desti
Senior Member
It made Antra incredibly happy to sit next to Brynden and Willelm then. The lack of Rhea and their parents was painful, but Antra didn’t want to live her whole life filled with grief. Sometimes she still dreamt of how strange the corpses of Rhea and mother had looked, but Antra wanted to live and not hang onto it too much. It hurt so much, but it was all over now. She wouldn’t lose anyone else to the war anymore.
When Willelm asked if she missed Nilfgaard, Antra knew she wouldn’t be able to explain to him how much she missed it. She didn’t know how long she would stay in Nilfgaard once they’d get back home, since perhaps Brynden already had plans to marry her off. Questions like that could wait, though. Antra didn’t want to worry about such things right now, anyways. She just wanted to go back home. Finally.
“So much,” Antra sighed, “I miss everything about it.”
"Me too. I wish we could go back already."
“Soon. I can’t wait,” Antra smiled, but then it faded from her face, “is it going to feel the same, though? Without them.”
"I fear it won't, but I don't know."
Undoubtedly, it would feel strange to return to Nilfgaard. Antra still hoped that it would feel as much as home as when they’d left, but she was worried that the absence of their parents and Rhea would leave a mark. She feared that she wouldn’t love Nilfgaard because of it, but at the same time Antra knew that she’d treasure it even more because of all the memories. With that thought, Antra regained her happiness again, stubbornly not letting herself get sad at a moment like this.
In an effort to distract her mind even more, Antra looked around the Great Hall again. All their smiles and laughter were infectious in a way, now that Antra let herself get used to them. For a second, Antra smiled at Aryana before looking away again as she saw her father approach. She tried to see Elias amidst those gathered, but she couldn’t find him. Perhaps that was for the better, then she’d just end up distracted by him. When Antra looked back towards Aryana, her seat was empty so she turned back to Willelm once more.
“Even if it won’t be the same, it’s still our home.”
"I know, but for how long? We can't all live there forever."
“That won’t change if we all end up living in different places,” Antra shrugged, “it will always be our home, no matter what.”
"You're right. I suppose I'm just worried it won't feel like home anymore."
“It’ll be alright, Willelm,” Antra smiled, moving her hand to touch his arm.
"Thank you, Antra."
Then, Willelm smiled at her and Antra pulled her hand away from him. She was just about to say something else to him, when Antra heard Brynden’s chair squeak against the ground as he got up. Antra had always admired Brynden and looked up at him. After all, Brynden was her big brother. Gods, he looked so much like a King now, even with how bruised he looked. All he was missing was a crown.
Though, Brynden didn’t really look that great overall, that she couldn’t deny. His face was covered in cuts and bruised all over, swollen slightly on one side while his nose was bent a little more to the other. At least all the blood that undoubtedly had covered him before was washed up, and Antra noticed how his hands were wrapped in bandages. Brynden had had better days, there were no doubts about that.
“You all and your men fought bravely today,” Brynden spoke, and Antra could tell that his voice just seemed off. Maybe he was tired? That could’ve been it. She saw his hands gripping so tightly onto the table that his veins were pressing up against his skin. Suddenly, Antra found herself worried as she sat there, looking up at her brother. Did Willelm notice? Did anyone else?
“I want to thank each and every one of you for what you’ve done, how you’ve helped me and my family over the last months. In due time, you will be repaid not only in words, but in gold and land.”
That made a roar erupt in the crowd as they raised their cups to salute Brynden, and he continued to speak once the noise died down, “every single one of you was important so that we could succeed. Thank you, truly.”
“We’ve all lost something in the War. Many lives had to be lost so that we could find peace, so that our children, their children could live in quieter times than us. Mourn those we lost, but celebrate the living. These are the beginnings of new times and Aedighar will flourish after it’ll heal from the wounds of war, after we all heal.”
Hearing Brynden’s words, made Antra want to get up and hug her brother. Instead of doing that, she grabbed Willelm’s hand, gripping onto it tightly for some comfort. She felt him squeeze it, stroking it comfortingly with his fingers for which Antra felt grateful for.
“House Wynver is no more, their tyranny has come to an end,” Brynden spoke and Antra felt a shiver run down her spine from those words and how strange it sounded.
“The King is dead, long live the King,” someone shouted from the Hall and again the crowd cheered for Brynden, drinking and making a show of their cups. Though Brydnen didn’t seem very amused or honoured by any of it.
“The King is dead,” Brynden repeated, wincing as he spoke, “and I will not take his place.”
It seemed like everyone grew confused then, as did Antra. Her brows furrowed as she looked first at the whispering crowd then back at Brynden. At least she didn’t feel like she was the only one surprised by that, as Antra had been under the impression that Brynden would be King and Aryana would be Queen. It had sounded nice in her mind when she thought of it.
“I killed your King and I’m giving you a Queen to take his place,” Brynden said and turned his head to look at Antra, pausing as their eyes met before he continued, “long live the Queen.”
The silence that followed was incredibly uncomfortable, until it became worse when she heard the crowd slowly repeat Brynden’s chant of “Long live the Queen” as it slowly became more confident with each time it was said. It felt like Antra might break Willelm’s hand from how tightly she was gripping onto it, while her eyes stared back at Brynden. She was waiting to hear him say that it was all a joke, but instead she could only listen to the chanting and her racing heartbeat.
When Willelm asked if she missed Nilfgaard, Antra knew she wouldn’t be able to explain to him how much she missed it. She didn’t know how long she would stay in Nilfgaard once they’d get back home, since perhaps Brynden already had plans to marry her off. Questions like that could wait, though. Antra didn’t want to worry about such things right now, anyways. She just wanted to go back home. Finally.
“So much,” Antra sighed, “I miss everything about it.”
"Me too. I wish we could go back already."
“Soon. I can’t wait,” Antra smiled, but then it faded from her face, “is it going to feel the same, though? Without them.”
"I fear it won't, but I don't know."
Undoubtedly, it would feel strange to return to Nilfgaard. Antra still hoped that it would feel as much as home as when they’d left, but she was worried that the absence of their parents and Rhea would leave a mark. She feared that she wouldn’t love Nilfgaard because of it, but at the same time Antra knew that she’d treasure it even more because of all the memories. With that thought, Antra regained her happiness again, stubbornly not letting herself get sad at a moment like this.
In an effort to distract her mind even more, Antra looked around the Great Hall again. All their smiles and laughter were infectious in a way, now that Antra let herself get used to them. For a second, Antra smiled at Aryana before looking away again as she saw her father approach. She tried to see Elias amidst those gathered, but she couldn’t find him. Perhaps that was for the better, then she’d just end up distracted by him. When Antra looked back towards Aryana, her seat was empty so she turned back to Willelm once more.
“Even if it won’t be the same, it’s still our home.”
"I know, but for how long? We can't all live there forever."
“That won’t change if we all end up living in different places,” Antra shrugged, “it will always be our home, no matter what.”
"You're right. I suppose I'm just worried it won't feel like home anymore."
“It’ll be alright, Willelm,” Antra smiled, moving her hand to touch his arm.
"Thank you, Antra."
Then, Willelm smiled at her and Antra pulled her hand away from him. She was just about to say something else to him, when Antra heard Brynden’s chair squeak against the ground as he got up. Antra had always admired Brynden and looked up at him. After all, Brynden was her big brother. Gods, he looked so much like a King now, even with how bruised he looked. All he was missing was a crown.
Though, Brynden didn’t really look that great overall, that she couldn’t deny. His face was covered in cuts and bruised all over, swollen slightly on one side while his nose was bent a little more to the other. At least all the blood that undoubtedly had covered him before was washed up, and Antra noticed how his hands were wrapped in bandages. Brynden had had better days, there were no doubts about that.
“You all and your men fought bravely today,” Brynden spoke, and Antra could tell that his voice just seemed off. Maybe he was tired? That could’ve been it. She saw his hands gripping so tightly onto the table that his veins were pressing up against his skin. Suddenly, Antra found herself worried as she sat there, looking up at her brother. Did Willelm notice? Did anyone else?
“I want to thank each and every one of you for what you’ve done, how you’ve helped me and my family over the last months. In due time, you will be repaid not only in words, but in gold and land.”
That made a roar erupt in the crowd as they raised their cups to salute Brynden, and he continued to speak once the noise died down, “every single one of you was important so that we could succeed. Thank you, truly.”
“We’ve all lost something in the War. Many lives had to be lost so that we could find peace, so that our children, their children could live in quieter times than us. Mourn those we lost, but celebrate the living. These are the beginnings of new times and Aedighar will flourish after it’ll heal from the wounds of war, after we all heal.”
Hearing Brynden’s words, made Antra want to get up and hug her brother. Instead of doing that, she grabbed Willelm’s hand, gripping onto it tightly for some comfort. She felt him squeeze it, stroking it comfortingly with his fingers for which Antra felt grateful for.
“House Wynver is no more, their tyranny has come to an end,” Brynden spoke and Antra felt a shiver run down her spine from those words and how strange it sounded.
“The King is dead, long live the King,” someone shouted from the Hall and again the crowd cheered for Brynden, drinking and making a show of their cups. Though Brydnen didn’t seem very amused or honoured by any of it.
“The King is dead,” Brynden repeated, wincing as he spoke, “and I will not take his place.”
It seemed like everyone grew confused then, as did Antra. Her brows furrowed as she looked first at the whispering crowd then back at Brynden. At least she didn’t feel like she was the only one surprised by that, as Antra had been under the impression that Brynden would be King and Aryana would be Queen. It had sounded nice in her mind when she thought of it.
“I killed your King and I’m giving you a Queen to take his place,” Brynden said and turned his head to look at Antra, pausing as their eyes met before he continued, “long live the Queen.”
The silence that followed was incredibly uncomfortable, until it became worse when she heard the crowd slowly repeat Brynden’s chant of “Long live the Queen” as it slowly became more confident with each time it was said. It felt like Antra might break Willelm’s hand from how tightly she was gripping onto it, while her eyes stared back at Brynden. She was waiting to hear him say that it was all a joke, but instead she could only listen to the chanting and her racing heartbeat.