SUMMARY: Aesha meets Alexei; Alexei opens up to Gianne
(continued from this)
Nestled between Mount Rajnir and the hills of Vorlan, Eldyn was a charming little town, with stone houses at its epicentre. There were two inns, a market, and a baker– an apothecary and many merchant stores lining the main streets. Farmland stretched on the flat plains just after the hills, where much of the produce and wheat was grown. Viseri’ith dropped the Rider off just outside of town, where Alexei proceeded on foot. Birds chirped from the trees and the sounds of the village reached him as he came into town, hearing the chatter of Eldyn’s loyal residents.
There was only one place that could have the essence, and that was the apothecary. It was a large building, with two main rooms and an upstairs that housed the owner’s family. Aesha’s Herbs, the sign read. He entered the great stone house, the thick door falling shut behind him. A bell jingled on the doorknob, signalling his presence to the bustling storekeeper. She was Aestani, her long black hair carefully loc’d and held into place with an intricate silver pin. Half of it was down, cascading down her back. Her voice was welcoming.
“What do you seek?” She mused, standing behind the counter– her tattooed fingers rolling a smooth polished stone between them. Her skin was a deep, lovely brown, contrasting with her yellow dress. It resembled the petals of a sunflower, although not too thick for the summer weather.
“Silverbark essence, by order of Her Majesty the Queen.” He replied, plopping a bag of gold down on the counter. By the size of it, Aesha gleaned it contained Nixan mjöns– the finest currency in the land. So, Her Majesty was not afraid to pay. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow.
“Forgive me, my lord. I did not recognize you. Silverbark essence is prized, yes– I have six bottles. I’ll sell you only four,” In truth, Aesha wanted the rest for the villagers. They were prone to the illnesses that travelling merchants sometimes brought. It was crucial medicine. She put down the stone she’d been fiddling with, and got down to business.
“Four will do.” he answered absently, placing a palm on the counter. Aesha read his pensive expression, preparing the bottles and securely wrapping them in thick paper. She tied the bundle with twine, stamping a wax seal to keep it in place.
“A purse of mjöns is much more than this costs, my Lord,” Her gaze fell to the bag. It was almost ridiculous, how much he’d have left after the original cost of the bottles– she pushed it back. It seemed more like a bribe than anything. Aesha fixed him with a stare.
“Keep it,” He muttered, looking at the bag with disdain. “Her Majesty is generous.”
He gathered the wrapped bottles and stuck the package beneath his arm. He was certainly a surly man, but Aesha knew better than to judge. She’d heard tales of the brutal execution that took his wife from the world. Many years back, while she’d sat at the back of a tavern, locals murmured to one another. He’d seen it, they said. She sighed as the door fell shut behind him. Aesha was alone again in her shop, the bubbling potions no longer soothing her restless thoughts.
Why was he here, of all places?
It simply made no sense. That medicine could not have been the sole reason for his visit. It could be obtained anywhere in Vorlan– he’d have found more, if not better, prices in the cities.
What business could he be on that Eldyn has to offer? Was he visiting somebody local?
Her face set into a firm expression, and she stood there for some time with her hands on her hips. At once, her mind settled on one thing.. The Dovaaek. They would reward handsomely for news of Djolran, but the money wasn’t what she was really after. She reached for parchment and scrawled a quick letter, rolling it up and tying it to the leg of a messenger pigeon. She watched it fly toward the Stormhold Mountains, a strange feeling coming over her. She hoped this wasn’t the first sign of trouble… or that contacting Gaeor would be a mistake.
Alexei made his way out of the village, reaching into his satchel and producing a bone whistle out of a small pocket. He raised it to his lips once he’d passed the outskirts, the shrill sound loud enough to alert Viseri’ith that it was time to go. The dragon appeared from the distant treeline, circling down so that the rider could board.
He climbed into his seat and sighed softly, tightening the strap of the satchel. He needed to keep the bottles as safe as possible, for more trips into town was not something he could afford– the look in the shopkeeper’s eye gave him a vague sense of unease. She knew who he was, based on the mention of the Queen. How much she knew… that was yet to be determined. Still, he willed his mind to rest.
Will she betray you? The dragon rumbled, listening in on his thoughts.
“Can’t tell.”
Somebody else will be behind it. I see her in your mind’s eye. She is a messenger.
He fell silent as they sailed above the clouds, fixating his gaze on the dragon’s neck spines. As far as he’d known, the only ones searching for him had already found him. The mad king was as dead as his wife, and a better ruler sat in his place. He was certain whoever she may have contact with must yearn for information… and the only ones he could consider were his former Dovaaek comrades.
As they progressed back towards Mount Rajnir, dark heavy clouds began piling onto the horizon. The dragon made his descent through them, their dampness clinging to his scales in tiny droplets. Alexei’s blond hair clung to his forehead limply, his heavy shirt keeping his skin shielded from the slight chill the cloud had brought. They landed in the clearing, the smell of woodsmoke lingering in the air as it drifted lazily out of the cottage’s chimney, and the rider slid down off his back. The soft, fine grass came up to his mid-shins, despite his height.
“The rain will come. I will be here all evening,” He patted Viseri’ith’s tough hide.
“Best to seek shelter in a mountain cave. You can’t fit into that house.”
Viseri’ith snorted, hoisting himself back into the sky and disappearing. Alexei always felt alone without his companion, but he needed to speak to Gianne without the dragon scrutinising his thoughts. He had a hard enough time as it was with personal matters. This would not be any different– any less awkward.
He opened the heavy wooden door with slight reluctance, stepping inside and setting down his satchel. He closed it behind himself, stiffly unlacing his boots. Gianne was tending to the woodstove, piling more gnarled branches in for it to slowly burn away at. The rain pattered the roof as it suddenly began, cool air drifting into the open window.
“I thought you’d lost your nerve,” she began, eyeing him. She placed mushrooms into a pan, the butter inside sizzling as each one made contact with the cast iron. She tossed in a pinch of rosemary, the smell filling the room. Another stew bubbled over the fire in the hearth. Alexei’s stomach growled.
“Orders.” He grunted, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. He regretted not searching for a hot spring, but it was too late now.
“You’ve thirty minutes before it’s time to eat. Go wash,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. He stared at her wordlessly, indicating his confusion. She turned away from the stove to lead him down the hallway. There were more rooms than it looked like from the outside, in her little cottage. Alexei wondered if this was the result of magic. At least five more rooms than what he’d guessed– no, it had to be. She opened a gilded wooden door, practically shoving him inside. Just as he’d opened his mouth she held a finger up to her lips, satisfied with herself. She closed the door firmly, and left him to take in his surroundings.
It was an indoor hot spring, fashioned to look like a neat and tidy bathroom. The flat stones making up the floor were warm beneath his feet. Towels were rolled up on shelves lining the same wall that housed the door, fluffy and inviting. He stepped toward the waiting pool, stripping off his garments and leaving them on the floor.
As he sank into the hot water, he groaned in appreciation. Alexei grabbed an untouched bar of soap, getting to work– wondering how on earth this cottage held so many secrets from the outside. It must have been built over the hot spring, this he knew. What did the other rooms hold? Gianne was more interesting than he’d remembered, but then again, his last visit was spent mostly comatose. He knew nothing about her, but she welcomed him back into her home without a fuss. It was bizarre. Maybe Gianne was confident in her ability to carry herself.
Who was she?
He sighed, leaning back. He set down the soap, sinking into the water deeper. It was level with his lips now, the steam rising and bringing a slight flush to his tan complexion. Alexei hated being close to people, and this was one of the many, many reasons why– his incessant mind and its worries. He heard her distantly, thunking pots and pans about. It brought him out of his thoughts and back to the present, leaving the hot spring to dry off. He’d brought a change of clothes. Without them, there was no point washing up.
By the time he rounded the corner, she was hanging up the pots on the ceiling. His eyes met hers, deep and green. He looked away, raising a hand to push back his hair. It was time to face the difficult conversation, once and for all. He would spare her the gruesome details of what happened that fateful night, but it was her right to know. Now that Pjöllaros was dead, she was safe with the knowledge.
“Welcome back, Ser Djolran,” She hummed, in the middle of setting the table.
“Please, take a seat. Dinner is ready.” Gianne brought over bowls of stew to join the bread and butter on the table. The fried mushrooms were the topper for the stew, sitting atop the meat and vegetables invitingly. They were golden and fresh, ones she’d picked this morning. His stomach began to growl, and he did as he was told. She sat the bowl before him. Its aromas were irresistible, after a long journey here, eating nothing but dry bread and meat. He made quick work of it, Gianne watching him from across the circular table. She looked amused, almost flattered– her smile played upon her lips.
“You need to know something,” he muttered, when he’d finished. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together absently. Staring into the flames of the hearth, he sighed and steeled himself.
“Oh?” The smile left her face after seeing his somber expression.
“I was once commander of the Rider’s Order. Leader of the Dovaaek. I served the Realm, and worked directly with the people in their best interests. I was sometimes an emissary of the former king. For a time, we were his loyal dogs.” He clenched his fist.
“As soon as he began cutting off trade and restricting travel, I became a double agent. It was all in the name of the common people, the ones who were affected the most. I worked with many underground associations to ensure that citizens were brought what they needed, even illegally so. It was their basic right. With the death of the late queen mother, this all became worse. I could not work with him any longer.”
“I had made my vows, yes– and what I was doing directly opposed that. Eventually, he found out. One of my men had been caught in a raid from a royal storehouse. He was stealing grain. They tortured it out of him. I had been caught, and every one of my accomplices were my underlings. Every single Rider was punished with high treason. Public execution. I gathered as many men and women as I could, and we fled as soon as I’d been informed… that I’d been sold out. By then, the king’s forces had descended upon us. I had just made it into the air with Viseri’ith, a few of them ahead of me, but it was too late. The ones still on the ground were slaughtered on the pavilion, their dragons were younger. Smaller, their hides less… impenetrable. The poison on the arrows and the spears worked quickly.”
“I had barely managed to escape, and my wife…” He trailed off, his expression hardening. His jaw flexed in effort to contain himself, and it was a moment before he found the words within him to continue.
“It appeared that the king prepared well for that moment, for he’d made iron arrows. Giant ones, made to pierce the scales of dragons. My wife was beside me, flying away, when one… chained arrow took both her and her dragon down. A few arrows from the archers hit me, and that’s why I ended up in that field of yours."
"I knew they’d all perished, I saw it before my very eyes. If I didn’t run, I’d have died with them. There would have been no hope for a future. I rode with Viseri’ith until I fell off his back. He broke my fall, enough to spare my life. If it was not for you, I would have died thinking of their faces. Thinking of the carnage. When I got better, I had to leave. If you’d been housing me and the king caught wind, he’d have hung you for treason for helping me.” He paused, exhaling softly.
“This is a formal thank you, for saving my life... Gianne.”
How nice it is to hear from you. So, that was your name. I do not recall you telling it to me– I recall your heaviness, however. I had not yet had the pleasure of dragging a large man into my cottage. All I heard from you as you slept for days were mutterings of war. Names that were foreign to me. I assumed you had been through a great deal.
I stitched your wounds, and the morning after you finally had awoken, you vanished without a trace. I was certain that gash would have reopened from your hasty departure. I still wonder sometimes if it did. There was a time I almost hoped it had, but… Hah.
It is fortunate the villagers are fond of me. I would not have received this letter. I have moved addresses within the last six years. I welcome you to visit. I live out on the mountain tableau, in the plains tucked away behind Vorlan’s tallest peak.
When I hear the great dragon’s roar, I will know you have come to repay me.
Yours,
Gianne Grenwych.
Alexei rolled the parchment back up, stuffing it in his breast pocket. He had begun to think Gianne hadn’t lived through the war, after all– her response came three months later than he’d expected. He almost felt foolish, for not checking she still lived in that quaint little village. The wind today on the terrace of the dovecote was a cold one, even for mid-summer. Vorlan would be the ideal place to go to escape it– as he descended the stair tower, the commander headed straight for the Queen.
Her duties had brought her to the study she shared with the King, but he was absent in council meetings. Queen Lanfen had been working away at proposed bills for Falhar and Nix trade when he interrupted her, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe.
“Your Majesty,” He began, giving a shallow bow.
“Ser Djolran. What brings you to me?” She raised her regal head, eyes twinkling with curiosity. It was not often her personal guard spoke up, as he preferred to carry her bidding in the shadows. He was just as scarcely-spoken as her husband, as much as they both clashed.
“I have sudden business in Vorlan. I will return hastily. It will not take long– scouting work has been completed. I am asking you to grant it, Your Majesty.”
She thought for a moment. He was true to his word, faithful in his job. No matter the task, Alexei had always delivered to the best of his ability. She wondered if it had to do with his wife– although Lanfen had learned some time ago of her death, she was receptive enough to understand he had quite a bit of loose strings to tie off. She inclined her head, her smile faint.
“Bring me back silverbark essence, and I will grant you temporary vacation,” she reasoned, watching as he nodded and placed his fist over his heart. The salute came without words, but she knew how much weight it carried– it was a vow amongst the dovaaek, signifying their ultimate dedication to a task.
“I need four bottles, and several saplings.”
“They will be in your hands upon my return, Your Majesty.”
She smiled, lifting her hand to wave him off.
“Go, now. I have work to do.”
As he turned his back, Alexei suppressed his soft smile of relief.
He went to his room to gather a pack of provisions and a satchel for the Queen’s request, before ascending the grand staircase to the pavilion. Viseri’ith was sunning his great black wings, turning an intelligent golden eye to him as he approached. The dragon stretched out before he bent down, allowing Alexei to climb his spines and settle into his place.
Unexpected mission we have, do we?
“To Vorlan. Mount Rajnir.”
A day’s time. That is nothing.
The dragon gloated as he took to the skies, and Alexei felt at peace. The wind whistled past his ears, prompting him to tug his hood up. By the time the two suns had sunk below the horizon, they were in the mountain range of Falhar. Alexei did not stop to rest and the dragon flew them both through the night, arriving in Vorlan by the evening. The temperature was better here, the balmy climate almost welcoming.
It was nearing nightfall when the rider saw it, standing so tall it appeared to touch the very clouds. The stars had begun to blink into existence in the darkening sky, and beyond the great mountain peak was nestled a home, the smell of woodsmoke lingering in the air. Its large wooden door opened and a lone figure stepped out, hands on her hips as she watched them land. A warm light illuminated the grass from within her home, making each of Viseri’ith’s scales glitter in its light.
When Alexei’s feet touched the ground, he felt a sense of tiredness descend upon him. Could it be that this place felt more like home than the Storm Mountains themselves, or was it his journey through the night? He shoved that thought aside as he approached her, a grim look set into his face.
“My lord,” She greeted, lifting the apron of her skirts slightly.
“Miss Gianne.” He returned, studying her. She was prettier than he remembered, her long dark hair cascading in curls down her back, tied up by a colourful scarf.
“Come inside, Rider. You look like you need something hot to eat.”
He obliged silently, Viseri’ith watching as they retreated into her house, the door closing behind them. It was time for the dragon to rest, settling his great black head and folding up his wings. Inside the cottage, Gianne spooned a hearty stew into bowls. She handed one off to him and settled in a well-loved chair at the rustic wooden table, where sat sliced bread and fresh butter. The different tuber-roots and vegetables were nourishing, along with the preserved red meat she had prepared from the cellar storage. It was salty, adding flavour to the broth when paired with the bread and stew.
“Tomorrow we shall talk. For now, you must rest.” She pointed to the daybed in the corner beneath a cosy square window, its curtains drawn tight. Fluffy pillows awaited his weary head, and a light summer quilt. It looked handmade. It was probably her work, he noted, as he stretched. Gianne cleaned up the table, washing the bowls in a porcelain basin, with water from a cistern. When she was done she dampened the lanterns and blew out the candles, pausing in the hallway before entering her room.
“A good-night, Ser Djolran.” She bid him, the heavy door closing behind her.
Alexei heard no more noise after that, his thoughts giving way to slumber when his eyelids became too heavy. The sheets smelled clean, like the clear mountain air on a sunny day. It lulled him into a dreamless sleep, and he lay unmoving til the morning.
It was the birds that awoke him, and the cabin windows had been opened to let in the pleasant morning air. Gianne was gone, her woven foraging basket missing from its place by the door; her cloak gone off the hook. Alexei had some time to himself before she returned, climbing onto dragonback and heading to a nearby village for the essence he had promised the Queen.
As she climbed the steps to the observatory once more, memories flashed through Rianna’s mind. It was here that she met her first friend from another world. Coincidentally, their meeting had interrupted her quest to catch a look at the one man that intrigued her the most.
From the days before the dark times, she remembered Ser Djolran and his fair-haired wife, visiting in Vorlan for the festivals of spring. Her cousin was still a prince, then. He would always flop down at her table, arms crossed over his chest– sulking and drinking until the festivities were over. King Pjölaris and Queen Elánne would dance until the sun had risen. Too many years had passed since that time, with too many of its figures now joined in the heavens.
She clutched her skirts in her hands tighter, as she lifted them to aid her ascent. There was no use lingering on it– she had to hold hope that one day she might find the happiness Aquila had. It seemed her thoughts had taken her away, for once she cleared her reverie, she had already crested the last stair before the landing. The sounds of dragon wings alerted her– she sprang forward, eyes widened. He was landing! She had come just in time!
Rianna ran out from beneath the dome, neck craned as she threw her gaze to the sky. A massive black dragon was circling as he made a steady descent, greeting her with a roar that shook the heavens. Up in the air, Alexei looked down. His eyes narrowed, before he settled back into his seat between the dragon's neck spines.
“What? You recognize her?” He muttered to the great beast. Beneath him, he grumbled.
My memory has always far exceeded yours.
He snorted before they lapsed back into silence, watching the girl stare up at them like she'd never seen a dragon before. Alexei steeled himself for rapid fire questions, wishing nothing more than to take flight once again and find a quieter place to land. Viseri'ith had other ideas, more likely looking forward to an ego stroke. The dragon had puffed out his chest as he landed on the ground, bellowing another roar.
The sound seemed to thrum in her very chest as she clutched her hands together before it, stepping forward tentatively. Once his great black wings had settled, her eyes wandered over every scale, every spike on his tough hide, as if to commit them to memory. He was magnificent. Bigger than she'd ever imagined, with eyes of molten gold. She took a few steps closer as Alexei slid down off his back, crouching as he hit the ground. It was over twenty feet from his perch to the stone beneath their feet, but he made it look easy.
The dragon lowered his head, turning it to scrutinize her with one eye. She was close enough to see its golden depths swirl and shimmer with fire and life, his black pupil adjusting to the light as he looked at her face. He remembered her now, gauging her aura up close. It was the same child that pressed her face against the glass of the old castle in Vorlan, watching him fly by with wonder in her eyes.
Alexei had been a child then, too. He'd grown up in the mountain halls of the storm-fae, most known for their lightning magic and their bonds with ancient dragons. He had been the star of the Rider's Academy, rising the ranks before the time had come to make a pact. A pact that would bind him to a dragon for the rest of his life.
"Are you lost, my lady?" Alexei mused, blonde hair falling across his tan forehead. His dark eyes peered out at her through it, and for a moment, Rianna was struck by his rugged beauty. He was still handsome. She cleared her throat, her hands poised together elegantly in front of her. Right. She had to remember manners.
"Ser Djolran! I hope you'll pardon my intrusion. Since I arrived in the North, I have been eager to meet both you and your... partner, the great Viseri'ith."
Alexei fell silent, her voice striking a memory within him. Ah... She was the King's cousin. It had been over fifteen years since last they met. At the time, Illye was still by his side. She was the daughter of Duke and Duchess Velniy, the gracious hosts of the spring dances. He had to act accordingly, but then again, Ser Djolran never had much time for royal fancies.
"Somethin' tells me you only came for the dragon." He replied curtly, turning to begin loosening the straps of his armour. The cloth shirt beneath the tough leather was a simple grey, thick enough for the atmospheric changes and the winds above the clouds. He was tall, too, towering over Rianna even from the distance between them. He seemed eager to keep it there, turning his back to her as he set about taking off his pack. The dragon stretched out his wings and let the sun warm them, obsidian scales glittering.
"Of course not!" She insisted, seemingly immune to his snark. He eyed her for a moment, sighing deeply in resignation.
"I don't have time to dally. My work is almost done. I want to relax," He muttered, slinging the strap of the bag around his shoulder. He held two scrolls in his hand. His last stop was to hand them off to the Queen, and it seemed Rianna was in his way.
"I promise I won't take long." She stepped forward again to Viseri'ith, earning raised eyebrows from his Rider as the dragon outstretched his neck, great black nostrils bellowing air as he exhaled. He smelled like fire and wind and sun, like hot coals.
She does not remember, but look at her. This is the measure of my greatness, Rider. Of my kind.
"I know," he said irritably, glowering on as he watched.
His expression softened when she outstretched her hand.
"May I?" She asked the dragon, before placing it on the tip of the wyvern's nose. He was warm, the heat spreading from her palm to her wrist, and up her arm. Viseri'ith rumbled in his chest, the sound deep and throaty. His scales felt like volcanic glass, tough and impenetrable. She found it hard to believe creatures like him had almost become extinct. Melancholy set in as she removed her hand, bowing her head. Golden eyes stared at her as she smiled softly, giving the beast a curtsy.
"Thank you, vórdrækk. I hope to see you again someday. You protect these lands better than man or wizard ever could."
Alexei stared at her, and then shifted his gaze to Viser'ith. The dragon lifted his head once more and roared, the sound echoing off the mountains and startling birds from the trees. After a moment, Rianna whooped with joy, gathering her skirts and running back across the pavilion. Ser Djolran found himself watching her pass beneath the overhang of the observatory dome.
"And thank you, Ser Djolran! Thank you ever so much!" She shouted across to him, after turning around.
The commander smiled as she disappeared from view, standing still for a few moments after she was gone. Today had been more interesting than he thought it might, from the new information gathered on their morning mission.
She amuses you.
""She does not," He snapped, although malice was absent in his tone. This was how they'd always been, like brothers, teasing one another. It would be like that until Alexei breathed his last. It was their bond.
"I am leaving now. I have to see the Queen."
I must catch food. We will gather again at dawn?"
"At dawn."
The dragon launched himself into the air with a series of wingbeats, the trees swaying from the velocity of the winds. Off he went, into the skies and towards the plentiful forests north of Windmjör City.
Alexei had one last stop before he would seek the hot springs. He did not feel at ease again until he was well on his way to Her Majesty, mind focused on his work. It seemed the seas had their own war waging, unbeknownst to their nation. Pirates. They always brought their share of bad luck, but...
He gripped the scrolls tighter in his hand, almost folding them in his grasp.
"Just a little further," Aquila instructed, lumbering after Lanfen as they crested the hill.
Skirts hitched in her hands, she scurried up the knoll and, temporarily, out of sight. A few steps later brought the king up over it behind her, where he paused to wipe his brow of sweat. The heat out here was borderline sweltering, with the only relief found under trees with thick foliage. The one they'd gone in search of was a tree Aquila remembered from the days of his youth. Many times he had run off here, when his father sent him as an envoy to the south as a prince.
He found the heat to be overwhelming, much preferring the coldness of the North. It kept his blood from reaching higher temperatures, and his frustrations were manageable so long as he remained in cooler climates. Presented with the fruits of their two hour hike, he ceased his grumblings and continued ahead.
With low hanging branches, it was just as perfect as he'd remembered. Densely packed branches, full of lush green pear-shaped leaves, with a distinctive serrated tip. This was the well-known and reputable silverbark tree. Its sap and wood were used in purification rituals all the way up in the North, and as far as the southernmost peninsula. tincture made from its leaves and sap produced a strong healing tonic, the same one that quelled the new fire that burned within him each time the beast-blood took hold.
She'd been lucky to find enough to bring him back to health when his fever had descended upon him, interrupting their second week of his season. It was something that hadn't happened before, the king taking ill so fiercely and so suddenly. He was grateful to his queen, who had done an exemplary job of keeping his illness behind closed doors, and searching for remedies with determination.
He followed her as she bounded up to the tree, arms extended to spin around with the sudden breeze. It took her skirts in its direction, loose petals from a nearby cherrywood swirling around her. He was transfixed, watching the petals dance around her head before being carried off on a crosswind.
"This must be the silverbark," She mused softly, turning away from him to face the regal tree. It must have been fifty feet tall, branches thickly distributed with many leaves on each one. An ivy had begun to crawl up the trunk, cinching around its lowermost branches and forming a half-curtain, giving the tree the feel of a secret hideout. They could easily remain unnoticed here, at the heart of the Vorlan-Aestas border.
"It is," He replied softly, gently brushing past her, his hand sliding down her forearm and grasping her hand in his larger one, leading her up to it. "I used to come here all of the time."
"Is this another of your secret hideouts?" She teased, earning a wry smile as they stepped into the tree's shelter, the shade cooling them from the severe direct heat of the two suns. He was shirtless, skin covered in a sheen of sweat; his dark hair clinging to the back of his neck and the sides of his face and forehead. Without bothering to climb the branches, he flopped himself down at the base of the tree, settled onto the comfortable grass.
The queen took off her satchel, passing him a flask of an enchanted hydration essence, made by her own magic in the alchemy lab. He drank it without second thought, exhaling a sigh as the coolness enveloped him. She began to set out various cheeses, dried meats and a dense loaf of bread. She'd even managed to bring butter. He stared for a moment at the spread, laying out the blanket he'd been carrying in his bedroll bag for her to prepare it all on. He began to feel peckish then, his stomach grumbling as if in instant reaction to the scent of food. Such was the nature of the Khélek men, their desires simple and practical. Food, wine, their wives, and an unrelenting lust for battle.
They spent most of the day there, beneath the shade of the silverbark tree. When they'd had their fill of rest, they chased one another in the sparkling depths of the river not far ahead. It was sunset when they headed back, the firebugs lighting the way as the darkness settled in. When she became tired, he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way back to the manor, past the gleaming eyes of the servants and knights.
He had never known such peace... And without her, would never know such peace again.
King Aquila and Queen Lanfen had spent the afternoon in playful challenge; performing a series of competitions with their bow and arrows. Each time, as if flawlessly, Aquila had won— Lanfen's arrows in close pursuit. Through the river, on horseback, even hanging upside-down from the deciduous trees. Vorlan was their haven, the grassy knolls and endless trees providing many targets for their practice.
"I have yet to beat you, Mirthlien," Lanfen mused, her mare nearly as fast as his warhorse.
"If I could not shoot an arrow, I assume my father would be shameful of me, Mjölvorá. And yet... You are the only whom can keep up." He was proud of this, his smile rivalling the sun. Only for a moment, and then it was gone; replaced by his serious, calculative gaze.
He aimed at their current target, a single 'x' marked high upon the oak tree that overlooked them. They'd rode back around, after he'd climbed up and marked it, riding up the path at a steady speed. In unison, Lanfen and Aquila aimed— their arrows hitting the mark with two dull thuds.
Certain he'd won, Aquila scurried back up the tall tree to check; only to find himself staring in wonder. Baffled, he revelled in his silence, pushing his hair back with his hand.
"Well?" Lanfen's voice floated up to him. "I can't read your mind, you know. As much as I would like to."
"You..." He trailed off, turning to stare at her. A smile spread over his face slowly, and he leapt down from the height, kneeling on impact.
Marching over to her, he picked her up off her horse, listening to her laughter as he slung her over his shoulder gently. Up he climbed, holding her firm with one arm— until he reached the mark, gently letting her down onto a sturdy branch. When she'd steadied herself, he sat on one right beside her, pointing.
Lanfen's slim, elegant arrow had split his right down the middle. Cleanly, leaving the raven feathers in disarray, and the tough wood splintered like it had been struck by lightning. She'd won by a long shot.
"Look, woman. You have bested me." He leaned to whisper in her ear. He loved the way she always grasped onto his clothes, a smile gracing his lips when he spoke.
"There is none other worthy of the Khélek name, my Queen."
It was some time before either of them made their way back down the tree, having found a branch where she could rest within his arms. His leg swung idly as the sun began to set, filtering through the branches and dousing them in golden light. None were present to witness the king thread his fingers through her glossy raven hair, kissing a lock as she laid back against his chest.
As the birds sang their twilight song, they finally mounted their horses once again and rode back towards the manor. Whatever tomorrow may bring, their hearts were aflame with light.
Muse of choice, the one and only King in the North. Aquilat'äq Khélek. One whom has suffered often. One whom has worn a heavy crown in the coldest nights of the year, on the part of the continent that never warms enough to completely melt the snow. Once a tyrant, now a wise ruler... now one who knows what it means to love and be loved. Let's go!
It is tomorrow that I wed you, tomorrow all shall celebrate your becoming queen of the realm. I think of you… even now, when I have last minute preparations to make. What are you doing as I write this, woman? Are you reading again? Practising your oath? Resting?
It is very late. The fire has died to embers, and my goblet runneth empty. It is very quiet in these hours, nothing but the howl of the winds round the castle peaks as they bring with them a change of season. It has been nearly a year since our paths have crossed, and yet I am certain they have crossed once, maybe twice before. Wanting for you has become natural, to me, despite my choice of a solitary path.
I am sure you understand… not long ago, you had walked one just as I. Though your journey has been long, it has not left you listless. Each day you fill my life with charm and promise. I ramble. I ramble writings happily.
I wish to claim you as my own, as you will I. Intertwined, eternally, before the gods— before the world itself. My visions are providing me with more clarity than before. I can see the pictures now… I can see you. Dancing, laughing, tumbling down a grassy knoll in the heart of Vorlan. Beckoning me to join you in a lake, a river, your hand outstretched towards mine. The gods sing their praise of you. I can hear it in my dreams.
I can feel it in my heart of hearts.
Whatever changes we may bring in one another’s lives, I know they will be glorious ones. I know that one day, our children will bring glory to the North, glory to the Realm, with the blessing of the gods. One day… when the time is right.
And you shall want for nothing, given our resources will be plentiful enough to achieve it; we shall build a kingdom stronger and greater than any before.
I must go, before I fall asleep and spill the ink.
baratheonpilled
janainaart
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
