Lord Sia
Herder of Cats
Suddenly everyone was talking at once, their voices a jumbled mess of noise. Somehow, though, Siegfried could clearly make out what was being said, and who was saying it.
"Son, what are you doing?!" His mother, demanding, the alarm clear in her voice.
"Lay back down!" His father, half commanding, half pleading.
"Siggy!" His nurse, alarmed, fretting as he fended off her attempts to push him back into the bed.
"What's wrong?!" Kristina, the younger of his two older sisters asked, perceptive as always.
"Brother!" Heinrich and Viktoria, his younger brother and oldest sister speaking with one voice, almost as if they too wanted to join in on the fun of trying to make themselves heard over the sudden din.
"Let go!" Siegfried commanded his nurse, drawing upon every scrap of royal authority he could muster, channeling the agony of his wounds into determination. Apparently it was enough, or perhaps it was just the surprise, but his nurse ceased her attempts to bustle him back into the bed. His mother was not so affected, but he had stood up on the side opposite her and by the time she had made her way around the bed he was already standing - shaking, from pain and exhaustion, but standing.
"My dragon, she needs me!" Siegfried roared, stunning everyone into silence with his vehemence. Despite the struggle it was to just stand, let alone move without screaming, Siegfried began to walk out of the room, ignoring the frantic pleas for him to return to bed. He made it half-way to the door before he stumbled, a half-choked groan of agony emerging from his throat as his father caught him by the shoulders.
"Son, you have to-" The king began in a commanding tone, even though his voice was still taught with a father's worry. Siegfried barely noticed as he interrupted him.
"No!" He gasped, a raw, animal noise of pain and need. "I will not, not until I've seen her, she-" he paused, swallowing back another groan of pain, "-she needs me! Father, please!"
King Erich II Brasa, rider of Soldräparn, husband of Brigitte "Flame-Tongue" Vaner, father of two headstrong daughters and two equally willful boys, veteran of three bloody wars, looked into the eyes of his eldest son and saw steel, reminding him of himself. Of the time when he'd told his old man that he would marry the princess Brigitte, and sworn that he would kill the damn King Felix himself before he'd let the self-absorbed fop lay his hands on Erich's beloved. He'd done it too, in a war that had killed several of his closest friends, left thousands dead and given birth to at least another century of feuds.
He had never regretted it.
Decision made, Erich paused only for a moment, long enough to straighten up and regain his royal bearing before issuing his commands, his voice leaving no room for doubt or hesitation, not even from his own family.
"Very well. Brigitte, you lend him your shoulder, Gunhildr, get his cloak; Heinrich, run ahead and tell them we're coming, Kristina, make sure the way is clear. Viktoria, with me; we'll head for the throne room and keep the rest of the court distracted." Handing over Siegfried to his mother, the king held out one elbow for his oldest daughter, who quickly acquiesced and took it. Leading her out of the room with long but measured strides, he threw one last glance back at his son, currently being swept up in a royal red mantle. The prince met his father's eyes, understanding and gratitude passing silently between them.
"Take care, son. Both her and yourself." And with those words, he left the room. Siegfried allowed himself to sag with gratitude against his mother, only for a stab of pain to remind him of why he was leaning on his mother like a newborn foal. Gritting his teeth, he nodded as she asked him if she was alright, and mustered his determination as they began to walk. With each step, the path to the Dragon Halls seemed to grow longer, but he shrugged it off, focusing instead on why he was going there. Or rather, who.
Hold on! He sent with every painful step, commanding her, begging her. I'm coming!
"Son, what are you doing?!" His mother, demanding, the alarm clear in her voice.
"Lay back down!" His father, half commanding, half pleading.
"Siggy!" His nurse, alarmed, fretting as he fended off her attempts to push him back into the bed.
"What's wrong?!" Kristina, the younger of his two older sisters asked, perceptive as always.
"Brother!" Heinrich and Viktoria, his younger brother and oldest sister speaking with one voice, almost as if they too wanted to join in on the fun of trying to make themselves heard over the sudden din.
"Let go!" Siegfried commanded his nurse, drawing upon every scrap of royal authority he could muster, channeling the agony of his wounds into determination. Apparently it was enough, or perhaps it was just the surprise, but his nurse ceased her attempts to bustle him back into the bed. His mother was not so affected, but he had stood up on the side opposite her and by the time she had made her way around the bed he was already standing - shaking, from pain and exhaustion, but standing.
"My dragon, she needs me!" Siegfried roared, stunning everyone into silence with his vehemence. Despite the struggle it was to just stand, let alone move without screaming, Siegfried began to walk out of the room, ignoring the frantic pleas for him to return to bed. He made it half-way to the door before he stumbled, a half-choked groan of agony emerging from his throat as his father caught him by the shoulders.
"Son, you have to-" The king began in a commanding tone, even though his voice was still taught with a father's worry. Siegfried barely noticed as he interrupted him.
"No!" He gasped, a raw, animal noise of pain and need. "I will not, not until I've seen her, she-" he paused, swallowing back another groan of pain, "-she needs me! Father, please!"
King Erich II Brasa, rider of Soldräparn, husband of Brigitte "Flame-Tongue" Vaner, father of two headstrong daughters and two equally willful boys, veteran of three bloody wars, looked into the eyes of his eldest son and saw steel, reminding him of himself. Of the time when he'd told his old man that he would marry the princess Brigitte, and sworn that he would kill the damn King Felix himself before he'd let the self-absorbed fop lay his hands on Erich's beloved. He'd done it too, in a war that had killed several of his closest friends, left thousands dead and given birth to at least another century of feuds.
He had never regretted it.
Decision made, Erich paused only for a moment, long enough to straighten up and regain his royal bearing before issuing his commands, his voice leaving no room for doubt or hesitation, not even from his own family.
"Very well. Brigitte, you lend him your shoulder, Gunhildr, get his cloak; Heinrich, run ahead and tell them we're coming, Kristina, make sure the way is clear. Viktoria, with me; we'll head for the throne room and keep the rest of the court distracted." Handing over Siegfried to his mother, the king held out one elbow for his oldest daughter, who quickly acquiesced and took it. Leading her out of the room with long but measured strides, he threw one last glance back at his son, currently being swept up in a royal red mantle. The prince met his father's eyes, understanding and gratitude passing silently between them.
"Take care, son. Both her and yourself." And with those words, he left the room. Siegfried allowed himself to sag with gratitude against his mother, only for a stab of pain to remind him of why he was leaning on his mother like a newborn foal. Gritting his teeth, he nodded as she asked him if she was alright, and mustered his determination as they began to walk. With each step, the path to the Dragon Halls seemed to grow longer, but he shrugged it off, focusing instead on why he was going there. Or rather, who.
Hold on! He sent with every painful step, commanding her, begging her. I'm coming!