peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
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Fantasy ~Embers~
- Thread starter peritwinkle
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zooka
Vampire Slayer
"Life is worth more than gold," he started, his voice deep and expectant. His hand, large and calloused, waited half-cupped to be filled by a much smaller, softer grip. Leon obliged, as he did every night before bed.
"But honor more than life." Leon finished the statement automatically. Though it was expected, it still caused the older man's eyes to squint with his kind smile. The candle reflected warmly in brown eyes, lighting them up like...
Gold. The only gold he would truly value. And still not enough before it was gone.
A breath of wind extinguished the candle and simultaneously woke Leon from a restless sleep. It was common, of course, to toss and turn the night before a battle, but this was not so simple. Nothing was anymore. Perhaps his uncle wished for it to be. Lowell was impulsive and angry and had been for years. It seemed like the simplest decision; the King's orders got his brother killed, so to seek revenge, he pledged himself to the enemy. Leon was young and sad, so he followed the only family he had left, but he never forgot his father's words.
Honor. An obligation. Adherence. But to what?
Family. That is what Lowell always said. So why did the crumpled letter pull at his heart?
The signature is what struck him the most. The Queen was appealing to his brother on her own accord and on behalf of the people. Certainly, the side with the most concern for the kingdom, it's structure and it's residents, that is the side that is the most deserving of honor? Yet his uncle had tossed it aside, too clouded by anger and pain, the loss of his brother that inflicted a wound that never healed. Had he even considered it?
Had Lowell ever considered what Lionel would have wanted?
Honor more than life.
Leon knew where his father's honor resided. It's spirit was still there in the halls of the castle, in the ink in that letter, and Leon knew that he had to do something.
Lord Nathar was attacking on all fronts, by land and by sea. He would collapse on the citadel and it would be destroyed. He would seek out and strike down every drop of Adain blood.
His father never would have allowed such a thing to happen and now, neither would Leon.
Leon sat up and stripped off his colors, ditching his armor and mail in favor of stealth. He would make it into the citadel ahead of the attack. He could warn King Adain, help them prepare. If he could only escape the camp before it was too late. He was not the only one awake. Many others stayed up, drinking and chatting, enjoying one another's company and enjoying what could be their last night. They weren't so difficult to avoid, but they had posted patrols and guards who were on the lookout for enemy scouts. Of course, they found it rather suspicious that someone was trying to sneak out of the camp. And so the chase began.
The following dawn, Lord Nathar's men pushed into the citadel. They also affronted by sea, the safe wall of water to the citadel's becoming a point of weakness. As predicted the bloodshed was not contained to the soldiers of stubborn men. The careless waves crashed into one another, splashing straight into the homes of the people and drowning them in a battle they never asked for. The king was forced to mercilessly defend the onslaught. Dragons, after all, were not exactly weapons of precision.
There was little to do for the Queen to do but wait and hope that the strength of their family, their soldiers, and their dragons would win out and that they would be left with enough to rebuild. Not just the city, but the trust of the people. They would need to rebuild their forces. Their very name.
For now, however, it was land and sea versus land and sky and Evolet was certain they had the upper hand. At the very least, that is the face she wore for the sake of her daughter. The Adain's had always felt more secure with the high ground, so that is where they resided now. Mother and daughter, watching the battle, watching the smoke rise. There was little chance of sleeping, given the endless shouts and cries of men. They were especially attuned to the shrieking of dragons. It was hard not to watch, despite the fact that the sun had sank below the horizon. Thick smoke obscured the stars, wafting up from homes turned torches, but always visible were the dragons.
And each time they released a roar or a cry, Evolet resisted the urge to run to the window. They were strong. Scales were an armor like no other and, as their natural hide protected them, they would naturally protect their riders. Her husband, her son, they would be untouchable in the sky.
At least, that is what they always believed.
"But honor more than life." Leon finished the statement automatically. Though it was expected, it still caused the older man's eyes to squint with his kind smile. The candle reflected warmly in brown eyes, lighting them up like...
Gold. The only gold he would truly value. And still not enough before it was gone.
A breath of wind extinguished the candle and simultaneously woke Leon from a restless sleep. It was common, of course, to toss and turn the night before a battle, but this was not so simple. Nothing was anymore. Perhaps his uncle wished for it to be. Lowell was impulsive and angry and had been for years. It seemed like the simplest decision; the King's orders got his brother killed, so to seek revenge, he pledged himself to the enemy. Leon was young and sad, so he followed the only family he had left, but he never forgot his father's words.
Honor. An obligation. Adherence. But to what?
Family. That is what Lowell always said. So why did the crumpled letter pull at his heart?
To, dearest still, Lowell Everard, from Queen Evolet of House Adain of Aramoor, once a home.
The weight of your brother's death has never felt lighter, even after all of these years, on this I am certain you can relate. Despite common ground, the tragedy has pushed us to different sides of the struggle for power that has plagued this land. While there is power to be had, the fight for it shall never cease.
Lord Nathar wishes to bring that battle away from the field, away from the so frequently requested table of the discussion, and into the homes of the people who know nothing of power. They have nothing to gain by this war and everything to lose from it. And if your Lord lays siege on the city, that is exactly what will be. They will lose everything. If he truly hopes to rule this land, should he not consider them? The people he wishes to be his people.
I urge you, for the love of your brother, on his love of his home and his kingdom and his King, please help Lord Nathar see reason. If he attacks the citadel, the loss will be too great. Not for his side or for mine, but for the people. Not soldiers, but farmers and merchants. Their wives. Their children.
Please, I am begging you. Whatever it takes. We must not fight this battle at their front doors.
With my witness and no other.
The signature is what struck him the most. The Queen was appealing to his brother on her own accord and on behalf of the people. Certainly, the side with the most concern for the kingdom, it's structure and it's residents, that is the side that is the most deserving of honor? Yet his uncle had tossed it aside, too clouded by anger and pain, the loss of his brother that inflicted a wound that never healed. Had he even considered it?
Had Lowell ever considered what Lionel would have wanted?
Honor more than life.
Leon knew where his father's honor resided. It's spirit was still there in the halls of the castle, in the ink in that letter, and Leon knew that he had to do something.
Lord Nathar was attacking on all fronts, by land and by sea. He would collapse on the citadel and it would be destroyed. He would seek out and strike down every drop of Adain blood.
His father never would have allowed such a thing to happen and now, neither would Leon.
Leon sat up and stripped off his colors, ditching his armor and mail in favor of stealth. He would make it into the citadel ahead of the attack. He could warn King Adain, help them prepare. If he could only escape the camp before it was too late. He was not the only one awake. Many others stayed up, drinking and chatting, enjoying one another's company and enjoying what could be their last night. They weren't so difficult to avoid, but they had posted patrols and guards who were on the lookout for enemy scouts. Of course, they found it rather suspicious that someone was trying to sneak out of the camp. And so the chase began.
The following dawn, Lord Nathar's men pushed into the citadel. They also affronted by sea, the safe wall of water to the citadel's becoming a point of weakness. As predicted the bloodshed was not contained to the soldiers of stubborn men. The careless waves crashed into one another, splashing straight into the homes of the people and drowning them in a battle they never asked for. The king was forced to mercilessly defend the onslaught. Dragons, after all, were not exactly weapons of precision.
There was little to do for the Queen to do but wait and hope that the strength of their family, their soldiers, and their dragons would win out and that they would be left with enough to rebuild. Not just the city, but the trust of the people. They would need to rebuild their forces. Their very name.
For now, however, it was land and sea versus land and sky and Evolet was certain they had the upper hand. At the very least, that is the face she wore for the sake of her daughter. The Adain's had always felt more secure with the high ground, so that is where they resided now. Mother and daughter, watching the battle, watching the smoke rise. There was little chance of sleeping, given the endless shouts and cries of men. They were especially attuned to the shrieking of dragons. It was hard not to watch, despite the fact that the sun had sank below the horizon. Thick smoke obscured the stars, wafting up from homes turned torches, but always visible were the dragons.
And each time they released a roar or a cry, Evolet resisted the urge to run to the window. They were strong. Scales were an armor like no other and, as their natural hide protected them, they would naturally protect their riders. Her husband, her son, they would be untouchable in the sky.
At least, that is what they always believed.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
Grim flames danced merrily in the silver scales of Eider’s armour, and in the darkness, the plate almost resembled molten steel. He could see them flickering, reflected in the window before him, but the Prince did not care for the warmth and safety the room promised; instead, his gaze was fixated on the battlements outside the keep, now brimming with soldiers and archers bustling into formation.
It had been less than a turn of the clock since enemy ships had been spotted on the horizon. The dark dusk made their shapes pop against the crimson and offered a good estimation of the distance between them and Aramoor’s walls. It was an eerie scene, and the silence, barely broken by the muffled shouts of the men gathering outside, only seemed to add to the tension biting at their very bones. He could feel it rumbling beneath his armour, trickling down his spine and rendering his feet numb. The sight was as beautiful as it was foully menacing.
“You don’t have to do this.”
The glass mirrored a dark silhouette in the archway, barely visible in the dismal shroud that hogged the room. Eider did not turn; instead, he only lifted his gaze back to the ships sailing towards them in the distance. A senseless statement, to which she knew the answer just as well as anyone else. “What kind of King would I be if I hid with the women and children instead of defending my own home?” he asked his sister.
“A smart one,” she returned sternly, but with a slight softness in her tone. Eider could not see her eyes, but the sound of her voice made him wonder if she was holding back tears. “Between the two of us, I should be the one fighting from atop Zerys,” she added, without a hint of hesitation in her tone. Eider knew she would have done it, had their father not jumped to oppose it the second it had spurted out of her mouth. She had not dared to say it in front of Queen Evolet, for which Eider was immensely thankful, and likely King Orynn as well.
Steel echoed loudly through the tall chamber as Eider turned, and with a large step drew closer to the woman who stood eerily behind him. A heavy hand gently palmed her cheek, whilst another came to rest atop her shoulder, covered by a fabric made of reflective silken scales. She looked beautiful that day, somewhat resembling their mother in her austerity. It was difficult for him to imagine her gown pierced by a stray arrow in the sky.
“I would not rest knowing mother was alone,” Eider explained. “She needs you, Veya. More than the people of Aramoor... She is our pillar. The skies are safer than the ground in a battle like this.”
Veya lowered her emerald eyes, which Eider could see glowing even in the dim light. They were clear; touched by sorrow, but not stinging, which offered him a slight solace. “If the odds turn against us, you need to promise me you will retreat,” she said, looking up. “Vyrion can set their ships on fire without you. It knows. It will take Drakon’s lead and turn our enemy to dust before it can touch what does not belong to him. You have to promise me.”
Eider pressed his lips together and gave her a hesitant nod. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and loosened his grip around her shoulder. The room seemed to have grown darker then, conveniently enough to shroud the look in his eye as he passed by Veya with a fabricated nonchalance; beneath the scaled armour, each of his limbs were shuddering, afire.
The anticipation was agonizing.
Sitting in a tall wooden chair opposing the windows, Veya’s fingers had become numb from gripping the armrest and digging her nails into the lacquered wood. She could hear her mother’s steps as she paced around the table in the middle of the room, making an effort to avoid the side by the windows. Far away from the battlements, she could hear Drakon’s harrowing shriek filling the skies, or the shout of a burning man gasping for its last breaths of smoked air.
Her carefully embroidered gown resembled Eider’s plate, but did not do anything to offer a feeling of protection. Armour was still heavy for the both of them; he had grown into a strong man, much like their father, but he was too young and far too precious to join the King in battle. She knew that Evolet had thought the same, but the woman had not dared to oppose it; what would the people have thought of him if he had chosen to hide?
The heavy door creaked opened and cut through the silence, making Veya jolt slightly in her chair. The pallor on her face only grew more prominent, for each time a guard entered the room, they bore news from outside the castle walls. This one, however, seemed more hurried than regretful; the man donning the sigil of House Adain embedded on his plate straightened his back and cleared his throat almost theatrically. “Your Graces,” the man called, “I have been told to escort you to the crypts in the Chapel.” His tone was grim, trembling. “If the walls of the Capital are to be breached – which no seems inevitable – Dragons' Hall will be the first target of the ground soldiers.”
Veya pursed her lips and looked to Evolet for confirmation, before shooting up from her chair. The blood in her veins pooled into her feet, and she felt her head grow heavier. “Under whose command?” she asked cautiously.
“The King’s, your Grace. And, indirectly, your brother’s.”
“Have you commanded Eider to fall back?”
For a moment, the guard turned silent. He shook his head and offered a weakened no, to which Veya could already feel her blood boiling. It did not surprise her. He would still try to fight those outside Aramoor’s walls, with their father by his side. Within the city, there was not much that their dragons could clean up without an unnecessary number of casualties.
Veya shot a fiery gaze to her mother and fought to stifle the fear building up within her, for her sake. “We should at least attempt to save what is within our power,” she said, then turned back to the guard. “Take the women and children without shelter and bring them to the crypts. Those hiding in wooden huts or tents, bring them to safety.” She took a step towards him and extended a hand behind her for her mother to take, before following the guard through the open archway and into the silent corridor.
It had been less than a turn of the clock since enemy ships had been spotted on the horizon. The dark dusk made their shapes pop against the crimson and offered a good estimation of the distance between them and Aramoor’s walls. It was an eerie scene, and the silence, barely broken by the muffled shouts of the men gathering outside, only seemed to add to the tension biting at their very bones. He could feel it rumbling beneath his armour, trickling down his spine and rendering his feet numb. The sight was as beautiful as it was foully menacing.
“You don’t have to do this.”
The glass mirrored a dark silhouette in the archway, barely visible in the dismal shroud that hogged the room. Eider did not turn; instead, he only lifted his gaze back to the ships sailing towards them in the distance. A senseless statement, to which she knew the answer just as well as anyone else. “What kind of King would I be if I hid with the women and children instead of defending my own home?” he asked his sister.
“A smart one,” she returned sternly, but with a slight softness in her tone. Eider could not see her eyes, but the sound of her voice made him wonder if she was holding back tears. “Between the two of us, I should be the one fighting from atop Zerys,” she added, without a hint of hesitation in her tone. Eider knew she would have done it, had their father not jumped to oppose it the second it had spurted out of her mouth. She had not dared to say it in front of Queen Evolet, for which Eider was immensely thankful, and likely King Orynn as well.
Steel echoed loudly through the tall chamber as Eider turned, and with a large step drew closer to the woman who stood eerily behind him. A heavy hand gently palmed her cheek, whilst another came to rest atop her shoulder, covered by a fabric made of reflective silken scales. She looked beautiful that day, somewhat resembling their mother in her austerity. It was difficult for him to imagine her gown pierced by a stray arrow in the sky.
“I would not rest knowing mother was alone,” Eider explained. “She needs you, Veya. More than the people of Aramoor... She is our pillar. The skies are safer than the ground in a battle like this.”
Veya lowered her emerald eyes, which Eider could see glowing even in the dim light. They were clear; touched by sorrow, but not stinging, which offered him a slight solace. “If the odds turn against us, you need to promise me you will retreat,” she said, looking up. “Vyrion can set their ships on fire without you. It knows. It will take Drakon’s lead and turn our enemy to dust before it can touch what does not belong to him. You have to promise me.”
Eider pressed his lips together and gave her a hesitant nod. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and loosened his grip around her shoulder. The room seemed to have grown darker then, conveniently enough to shroud the look in his eye as he passed by Veya with a fabricated nonchalance; beneath the scaled armour, each of his limbs were shuddering, afire.
*
The anticipation was agonizing.
Sitting in a tall wooden chair opposing the windows, Veya’s fingers had become numb from gripping the armrest and digging her nails into the lacquered wood. She could hear her mother’s steps as she paced around the table in the middle of the room, making an effort to avoid the side by the windows. Far away from the battlements, she could hear Drakon’s harrowing shriek filling the skies, or the shout of a burning man gasping for its last breaths of smoked air.
Her carefully embroidered gown resembled Eider’s plate, but did not do anything to offer a feeling of protection. Armour was still heavy for the both of them; he had grown into a strong man, much like their father, but he was too young and far too precious to join the King in battle. She knew that Evolet had thought the same, but the woman had not dared to oppose it; what would the people have thought of him if he had chosen to hide?
The heavy door creaked opened and cut through the silence, making Veya jolt slightly in her chair. The pallor on her face only grew more prominent, for each time a guard entered the room, they bore news from outside the castle walls. This one, however, seemed more hurried than regretful; the man donning the sigil of House Adain embedded on his plate straightened his back and cleared his throat almost theatrically. “Your Graces,” the man called, “I have been told to escort you to the crypts in the Chapel.” His tone was grim, trembling. “If the walls of the Capital are to be breached – which no seems inevitable – Dragons' Hall will be the first target of the ground soldiers.”
Veya pursed her lips and looked to Evolet for confirmation, before shooting up from her chair. The blood in her veins pooled into her feet, and she felt her head grow heavier. “Under whose command?” she asked cautiously.
“The King’s, your Grace. And, indirectly, your brother’s.”
“Have you commanded Eider to fall back?”
For a moment, the guard turned silent. He shook his head and offered a weakened no, to which Veya could already feel her blood boiling. It did not surprise her. He would still try to fight those outside Aramoor’s walls, with their father by his side. Within the city, there was not much that their dragons could clean up without an unnecessary number of casualties.
Veya shot a fiery gaze to her mother and fought to stifle the fear building up within her, for her sake. “We should at least attempt to save what is within our power,” she said, then turned back to the guard. “Take the women and children without shelter and bring them to the crypts. Those hiding in wooden huts or tents, bring them to safety.” She took a step towards him and extended a hand behind her for her mother to take, before following the guard through the open archway and into the silent corridor.
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zooka
Vampire Slayer
It was impossible to spend as much time as Evolet had with a personal guard and not know the guards quite personally. This man, Brom, for instance, she knew he had a family in one of the camps where they were attempting to keep the women and children safe. She knew he'd follow his duty, but the mention of the women and children had him a bit on edge. Evolet noted it, and she nodded. He drew in a breath of relief and started to escort them out the door.
Just outside, a second and third guard were waiting on either side. They would escort them straight to the crypts, and she knew that would be Orynn's wish, but she put a hand on Brom's shoulder. "Go," she told him. He nodded again and broke out into a jog down the hall. The other two guards flanked Evolet and her daughter and they began to move swiftly in the opposite direction.
Challenges to their reign were not uncommon, but none had ever come quite this close. Her green eyes traveled over the stone, as dark as it was in the night as if memorizing it. She silently wondered if this might be the last time she saw these halls. It was the first time she'd ever truly worried about such a thing and she would take it to her grave. Though they were leaving now, if her daughter asked, she would vehemently confirm that they would return to these halls.
They were on the stairs on the way down, about to go out a door when it opened on its own. The guards both stepped in front of Evolet and Veya with their swords drawn.
The brunette who emerged saw this and his dark brown eyes bulged. "Shit!" He exclaimed and immediately dropped to a knee on the landing. Empty hands went up, splayed out and displaying harmlessness just above his bowed head. Evolet herself had put a shoulder in front of her daughter, arm across the rest of Veya protectively. It didn't matter if her daughter could ride dragons, if she was a fighter herself, she would always place herself in harm's way ahead of her daughter. Her sharp eyes studied him and her quick instinct stilled the guards.
"Wait," she said, her voice definitive. Leon's eyes turned up slowly and he looked at Veya. She looked... almost exactly how he remembered the queen all of those years ago. He turned his eyes instead to the older version - older, but still lovely and elegant - and she was scanning him right back. He wasn't dressed like a soldier. He bore no colors. He was dressed simply in dark brown cloth pants and a light, plain tunic. He wore a padded cloth jacket, tan, and over that was a simple leather vest of a similar dark brown. Leather cuffs and boots showed that he might, in fact, be a fighter, as did the sword he carried, but he wasn't in a fighting stance.
"Queen Evolet," he addressed her as humbly as he could in a rush. "I read your letter. I'm here to-" He didn't know what he was here for, not exactly. He knew only that he needed to be. "I want to help. I-I'll serve you. I swear on my father, your knight, Ser Lionel Everard." It was hasty and awkward and horribly informal but they didn't have time and even if they did, he didn't know the formal stuff.
Recognition clicked in for the Queen. She could still see Lionel clearly. This man looked to be a couple of years younger than when she'd last seen her husband's loyal knight. She remembered all of it clearly. Heartbreak, slammed down like a boulder in the middle of the King's hall, shattering the earth and leaving deep cracks that never knit back together, not fully.
"You'll face his judgment upon your death?" Evolet asked him, doing nothing to hide the accusation in her voice. If he was lying on his father's name, when the earth did claim him, he would have to answer to him.
Leon nodded, quickly and without hesitation. "Yes, Your Majesty."
That seemed to do it for her. She nodded, but asked. "How did you get in?"
"Dungeons, Your Majesty. But we can't go that way. They know about that one. And I believe some of Nathar's men have breeched the battlements." That would mean they were fighting there, trying to swarm the castle, find the rest of the Adains.
"We know another way," Evolet said. She gestured to the guards to keep leading the way. Seeing as Leon - she was fairly certain that is what Lionel's son had been named - had come through that door in a hurry, they would need to get to the gardens a different way. Leon stood aside, the guards moved past him as did Evolet and her daughter, and he took up the rear, and that is how they safely made it to an alternate entrance to the gardens.
Just outside, a second and third guard were waiting on either side. They would escort them straight to the crypts, and she knew that would be Orynn's wish, but she put a hand on Brom's shoulder. "Go," she told him. He nodded again and broke out into a jog down the hall. The other two guards flanked Evolet and her daughter and they began to move swiftly in the opposite direction.
Challenges to their reign were not uncommon, but none had ever come quite this close. Her green eyes traveled over the stone, as dark as it was in the night as if memorizing it. She silently wondered if this might be the last time she saw these halls. It was the first time she'd ever truly worried about such a thing and she would take it to her grave. Though they were leaving now, if her daughter asked, she would vehemently confirm that they would return to these halls.
They were on the stairs on the way down, about to go out a door when it opened on its own. The guards both stepped in front of Evolet and Veya with their swords drawn.
The brunette who emerged saw this and his dark brown eyes bulged. "Shit!" He exclaimed and immediately dropped to a knee on the landing. Empty hands went up, splayed out and displaying harmlessness just above his bowed head. Evolet herself had put a shoulder in front of her daughter, arm across the rest of Veya protectively. It didn't matter if her daughter could ride dragons, if she was a fighter herself, she would always place herself in harm's way ahead of her daughter. Her sharp eyes studied him and her quick instinct stilled the guards.
"Wait," she said, her voice definitive. Leon's eyes turned up slowly and he looked at Veya. She looked... almost exactly how he remembered the queen all of those years ago. He turned his eyes instead to the older version - older, but still lovely and elegant - and she was scanning him right back. He wasn't dressed like a soldier. He bore no colors. He was dressed simply in dark brown cloth pants and a light, plain tunic. He wore a padded cloth jacket, tan, and over that was a simple leather vest of a similar dark brown. Leather cuffs and boots showed that he might, in fact, be a fighter, as did the sword he carried, but he wasn't in a fighting stance.
"Queen Evolet," he addressed her as humbly as he could in a rush. "I read your letter. I'm here to-" He didn't know what he was here for, not exactly. He knew only that he needed to be. "I want to help. I-I'll serve you. I swear on my father, your knight, Ser Lionel Everard." It was hasty and awkward and horribly informal but they didn't have time and even if they did, he didn't know the formal stuff.
Recognition clicked in for the Queen. She could still see Lionel clearly. This man looked to be a couple of years younger than when she'd last seen her husband's loyal knight. She remembered all of it clearly. Heartbreak, slammed down like a boulder in the middle of the King's hall, shattering the earth and leaving deep cracks that never knit back together, not fully.
"You'll face his judgment upon your death?" Evolet asked him, doing nothing to hide the accusation in her voice. If he was lying on his father's name, when the earth did claim him, he would have to answer to him.
Leon nodded, quickly and without hesitation. "Yes, Your Majesty."
That seemed to do it for her. She nodded, but asked. "How did you get in?"
"Dungeons, Your Majesty. But we can't go that way. They know about that one. And I believe some of Nathar's men have breeched the battlements." That would mean they were fighting there, trying to swarm the castle, find the rest of the Adains.
"We know another way," Evolet said. She gestured to the guards to keep leading the way. Seeing as Leon - she was fairly certain that is what Lionel's son had been named - had come through that door in a hurry, they would need to get to the gardens a different way. Leon stood aside, the guards moved past him as did Evolet and her daughter, and he took up the rear, and that is how they safely made it to an alternate entrance to the gardens.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
In the silence of the empty corridors of Dragons’ Hall, Veya could hear her heartbeat cover the sound of their steps against the stone. Each time they passed a window, she could not help but peek from the corner of her eye, hoping to spot the dark wings of Drakon or Vyrion in the smoke. She could hear their cries when they came close, but soon faded as they dived deeper into the castle, following the two guards that the other had assigned to escort the Queen and her daughter to safety.
Far too long seemed to have passed until they reached one of the wider halls leading to the main entrance. Only half of the torches had been lit up; the room was cold, frigid even, and imbued with a potent scent of smoke burnt wood. The sight was somber, dreary, a painting of her home which Veya did not wish to remember. If they were to die within the crypts, clutching eachother close as they watched Eider and King Orynn fall prey to the enemy, it would be the last time that they paced between the walls of Dragons’ Hall.
A creak disturbed the quiet black, and in the darkness, between the shoulders of the guards drawing their swords, a slender shadow crept in and immediately kneeled on the ground. Veya shuddered, taking a step back, and saw her mother’s arm reach around her front to shield her. Dim light barely kissed the features of the man who had appeared from behind the door, highlighting pale temples beneath amber curls. His attire made for a good camouflage in the night, almost passable had it not been for the sound of his arrival. At his hip he carried a sword, although not menacing in his position, docile with his head lowered before Queen Evolet.
He did not make for a sight she recognized, but the name of his father rung familiar in her ears. She knew of Ser Everard to have have been commanding Lord Nathar’s arny for more than a decade, an odd contrast with his relative swearing his loyalty to their enemy. “You believe him, mother?” Veya murmured, louder this once, and she felt her heart skip a beat in fear. “How do we know he is not lying? How do we know he will not lead us into an ambush?”
Her protesting proved to be futile. Evolet was a woman of honour, but Veya knew that honour was just as pure as it was sharp. She stood for a moment, even as the guards began to move in front of her mother, following the man almost blindly. Then, taking a deep breath, she floated by her side without another word, her gaze never leaving the stranger. Her only solace was the thought that he had, at the very least, not been assigned to lead the way; she knew the twists and turns of Dragons’ Hall well enough to know their direction even in the pitch darkness.
The gardens were separated by a tall wooden door which, then barred, the two armoured soldiers unblocked easily with one pull of the wooden plank propped against it. As soon as it was cracked open, she could hear the roars of battle in the night sky, now tinted a deep shade of crimson. Shouts and shrieks traveled with the wind, covering the waves crashing against Aramoor’s walls. The horns of battle no longer accompanied them, which could only mean that the battlements had already been occupied by the enemy.
The Chapel rose high from behind the blooming trees and bushes filling the garden. The clouds above it darkened and rumbled, and soon a dark shape cut through the smoke and materialized in the sky. Veya recognized Vyrion by the spikes on its back and tail; it flew close enough to pop against the scarlet, floating just above the sea. A breath left her lips as she sought Eider atop of his dragon as it turned, and when a wave of smoke scattered, she saw the steel armour glisten in the flames, bent over the beast’s back and nape. Relief washed over her, and she gripped Evolet’s arm with a newly found vigor at the sight of her brother.
Then, another shape pierced the clouds, leaving a trail of smoke behind in its speed. Vyrion roared, gushing flames from the depths of its throat; the spear stabbed the beast in its chest and dug deep enough to disappear almost fully. It shook and curled its back, then turned in the sky and came crashing down like a wave, cutting through and dissipating the grey shroud and the embers floating in the air. A lone silver sparked against the darkness, before vanishing behind the tall castle walls; a roared filled the night, loud enough to make glass and stone alike tremble, one Veya recognized as Drakon’s, before the city drowned in an echoing silence.
Emerald eyes froze on the sky, as still as marble. Veya let out a harrowing shout, and Eider’s name reverberated through the garden and scattered in the wind. Another followed, weaker then as she lost her breath, and yanking her hand from Evolet’s grip, she bolted through the shield of guards in front of her. An arm of steel wrapped its claws around her arm, which she fought and shook maniacally, whilst her throat let out trembling, agonizing cries.
She did not hear the doors open once again behind them, nor the squad of armoured soldiers donning the banner of House Dareon on their plates. She felt her stomach burn and twist, a sickening sensation built up and rumbled up to the base of her throat. The guard holding her pushed her behind him, his hand still gripping her arm tightly over the almost ripped sleeve, as he drew his sword once again with a loud chink, followed by others ringing somewhere in the distance, too far behind Veya for her to care. Her heart boomed with the sounds emerging from the battlements, and her gaze remained fixated on the walls, waiting for Eider to rise from the sea atop Vyrion again.
Far too long seemed to have passed until they reached one of the wider halls leading to the main entrance. Only half of the torches had been lit up; the room was cold, frigid even, and imbued with a potent scent of smoke burnt wood. The sight was somber, dreary, a painting of her home which Veya did not wish to remember. If they were to die within the crypts, clutching eachother close as they watched Eider and King Orynn fall prey to the enemy, it would be the last time that they paced between the walls of Dragons’ Hall.
A creak disturbed the quiet black, and in the darkness, between the shoulders of the guards drawing their swords, a slender shadow crept in and immediately kneeled on the ground. Veya shuddered, taking a step back, and saw her mother’s arm reach around her front to shield her. Dim light barely kissed the features of the man who had appeared from behind the door, highlighting pale temples beneath amber curls. His attire made for a good camouflage in the night, almost passable had it not been for the sound of his arrival. At his hip he carried a sword, although not menacing in his position, docile with his head lowered before Queen Evolet.
He did not make for a sight she recognized, but the name of his father rung familiar in her ears. She knew of Ser Everard to have have been commanding Lord Nathar’s arny for more than a decade, an odd contrast with his relative swearing his loyalty to their enemy. “You believe him, mother?” Veya murmured, louder this once, and she felt her heart skip a beat in fear. “How do we know he is not lying? How do we know he will not lead us into an ambush?”
Her protesting proved to be futile. Evolet was a woman of honour, but Veya knew that honour was just as pure as it was sharp. She stood for a moment, even as the guards began to move in front of her mother, following the man almost blindly. Then, taking a deep breath, she floated by her side without another word, her gaze never leaving the stranger. Her only solace was the thought that he had, at the very least, not been assigned to lead the way; she knew the twists and turns of Dragons’ Hall well enough to know their direction even in the pitch darkness.
The gardens were separated by a tall wooden door which, then barred, the two armoured soldiers unblocked easily with one pull of the wooden plank propped against it. As soon as it was cracked open, she could hear the roars of battle in the night sky, now tinted a deep shade of crimson. Shouts and shrieks traveled with the wind, covering the waves crashing against Aramoor’s walls. The horns of battle no longer accompanied them, which could only mean that the battlements had already been occupied by the enemy.
The Chapel rose high from behind the blooming trees and bushes filling the garden. The clouds above it darkened and rumbled, and soon a dark shape cut through the smoke and materialized in the sky. Veya recognized Vyrion by the spikes on its back and tail; it flew close enough to pop against the scarlet, floating just above the sea. A breath left her lips as she sought Eider atop of his dragon as it turned, and when a wave of smoke scattered, she saw the steel armour glisten in the flames, bent over the beast’s back and nape. Relief washed over her, and she gripped Evolet’s arm with a newly found vigor at the sight of her brother.
Then, another shape pierced the clouds, leaving a trail of smoke behind in its speed. Vyrion roared, gushing flames from the depths of its throat; the spear stabbed the beast in its chest and dug deep enough to disappear almost fully. It shook and curled its back, then turned in the sky and came crashing down like a wave, cutting through and dissipating the grey shroud and the embers floating in the air. A lone silver sparked against the darkness, before vanishing behind the tall castle walls; a roared filled the night, loud enough to make glass and stone alike tremble, one Veya recognized as Drakon’s, before the city drowned in an echoing silence.
Emerald eyes froze on the sky, as still as marble. Veya let out a harrowing shout, and Eider’s name reverberated through the garden and scattered in the wind. Another followed, weaker then as she lost her breath, and yanking her hand from Evolet’s grip, she bolted through the shield of guards in front of her. An arm of steel wrapped its claws around her arm, which she fought and shook maniacally, whilst her throat let out trembling, agonizing cries.
She did not hear the doors open once again behind them, nor the squad of armoured soldiers donning the banner of House Dareon on their plates. She felt her stomach burn and twist, a sickening sensation built up and rumbled up to the base of her throat. The guard holding her pushed her behind him, his hand still gripping her arm tightly over the almost ripped sleeve, as he drew his sword once again with a loud chink, followed by others ringing somewhere in the distance, too far behind Veya for her to care. Her heart boomed with the sounds emerging from the battlements, and her gaze remained fixated on the walls, waiting for Eider to rise from the sea atop Vyrion again.
zooka
Vampire Slayer
Evolet had always loved the gardens. No matter how stifling the walls of the castle could become, the pressure that pressed down on all of the members of the royal family from within, emerging into the garden was always a breath of fresh air.
Never again.
Evolet saw her son fall and, though she hardly made a sound, her hand slipped away from her daughter and covered her own mouth. The tears blurred her eyes until the bright orange glow from the battle beyond the wall bled into what she could see of the garden as well, setting it ablaze in her vision. She prayed it was her imagination but her daughter's shrieks said that she'd seen it too.
"Eider..." A hoarse whisper that echoed as loudly as any cry of any dragon or daughter or king. Maybe he would survive the fall... Maybe-
The door crashed open behind them and the guards turned their own harrowed faces away from the sky to face the onslaught.
Leon sprang into action as well, his fingers moving away from dark locks tot he sword at his hip instead. The sound of metal sliding against metal rang in his ears and he took in the scene.
The two guards were swarmed; skilled, but overtaken. Another one of Nathar's men had slammed into Queen Evolet, pushing her against the nearest wall. His forearm pressed into her throat and his other hand pressed the edge of his blad into her stomach, not intending to let her move even an inch until they'd killed her men and taken her daughter as well.
As swords moved against him, he deflected, and he tried to think.
"Run!" Evolet screamed at her daughter. That helped him think. That sounded like an order, or at the very least, he was taking it as one.
His sword sung and pushed the other man's out of the way. He followed immediately with an elbow to the man's face and, while he was stumbling back, he drove his heel into the man's gut with a powerful front kick. His sword finished it's swing around and he pinned the man into the ground with it. He didn't bother taking it back out. They wouldn't need it where they were going.
"C'mon, Princess," he said once his long strides had carried him over to her and his arm hooked around her waist and yanked her along. He knew she was reeling right now. He couldn't stop to think about the pain she was feeling, the pain he'd watched eat his uncle alive for years because he needed to make sure she stayed alive for years. Once they made it to the balcony of the garden, he half-stepped, half-jumped up onto the thick stone banister and he put his hand out for Veya.
"We'll come back for her," he promised. And he pulled.
Perhaps he should have thought a bit harder about this as a viable option. There was not as much time in the air as one might think to consider the terrain below. He could only hope it was favorable. Sharp rocks, sharps swords... a choice had to be made.
The water slapped him painfully upon entering, but there was no impact of bone against stone and as soon as his body slowed after the plunge, he nearly sighed in relief.
Nearly. He was still quite under water. He turned his body around swiftly, looking up. He had to assume he sank faster and further than the princess, and he looked, using the orange that still lit up the sky to find her silhouette and then he forced his arms and legs to propel him toward her, catching her again around the waist as he had just moments before the ill-advised jump.
They broke the surface of the water and he breathed, though the moment where he felt relief had passed. He treaded water, bobbing and trying to push wet tendrils of dark hair from his gaze and orient himself. He turned in the water, saw above them and to each side.
"This way," he urged, starting to swim toward the direction with the thickest cover of trees within a reasonable distance.
Never again.
Evolet saw her son fall and, though she hardly made a sound, her hand slipped away from her daughter and covered her own mouth. The tears blurred her eyes until the bright orange glow from the battle beyond the wall bled into what she could see of the garden as well, setting it ablaze in her vision. She prayed it was her imagination but her daughter's shrieks said that she'd seen it too.
"Eider..." A hoarse whisper that echoed as loudly as any cry of any dragon or daughter or king. Maybe he would survive the fall... Maybe-
The door crashed open behind them and the guards turned their own harrowed faces away from the sky to face the onslaught.
Leon sprang into action as well, his fingers moving away from dark locks tot he sword at his hip instead. The sound of metal sliding against metal rang in his ears and he took in the scene.
The two guards were swarmed; skilled, but overtaken. Another one of Nathar's men had slammed into Queen Evolet, pushing her against the nearest wall. His forearm pressed into her throat and his other hand pressed the edge of his blad into her stomach, not intending to let her move even an inch until they'd killed her men and taken her daughter as well.
As swords moved against him, he deflected, and he tried to think.
"Run!" Evolet screamed at her daughter. That helped him think. That sounded like an order, or at the very least, he was taking it as one.
His sword sung and pushed the other man's out of the way. He followed immediately with an elbow to the man's face and, while he was stumbling back, he drove his heel into the man's gut with a powerful front kick. His sword finished it's swing around and he pinned the man into the ground with it. He didn't bother taking it back out. They wouldn't need it where they were going.
"C'mon, Princess," he said once his long strides had carried him over to her and his arm hooked around her waist and yanked her along. He knew she was reeling right now. He couldn't stop to think about the pain she was feeling, the pain he'd watched eat his uncle alive for years because he needed to make sure she stayed alive for years. Once they made it to the balcony of the garden, he half-stepped, half-jumped up onto the thick stone banister and he put his hand out for Veya.
"We'll come back for her," he promised. And he pulled.
Perhaps he should have thought a bit harder about this as a viable option. There was not as much time in the air as one might think to consider the terrain below. He could only hope it was favorable. Sharp rocks, sharps swords... a choice had to be made.
The water slapped him painfully upon entering, but there was no impact of bone against stone and as soon as his body slowed after the plunge, he nearly sighed in relief.
Nearly. He was still quite under water. He turned his body around swiftly, looking up. He had to assume he sank faster and further than the princess, and he looked, using the orange that still lit up the sky to find her silhouette and then he forced his arms and legs to propel him toward her, catching her again around the waist as he had just moments before the ill-advised jump.
They broke the surface of the water and he breathed, though the moment where he felt relief had passed. He treaded water, bobbing and trying to push wet tendrils of dark hair from his gaze and orient himself. He turned in the water, saw above them and to each side.
"This way," he urged, starting to swim toward the direction with the thickest cover of trees within a reasonable distance.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
The ringing of steel against steel became louder and louder against the night, screaming into Veya’s ears and reverberating into her bones. In the dim light, she could make out the glow of steel and the contours of the soliders’ silhouettes floating and twirling in a deadly dance. She and Evolet seemed to have been caught between them, despite their guards’ efforts to push them farther into the garden, away from danger’s reach.
Veya could hear her breaths, heavy and almost stifling; tears rolled down her cheeks and behind into her throat. She could taste them on her tongue, a feeling which only brought her closer to the surface of reality. The sky had bled for Eider, and no trace of his dragon was painted in the sky for as long as she looked. Instead, it was as scarlet as the blood of those fighting below them, within the city walls, only emerging closer, and closer, and closer...
Her mother’s helpless shriek stirred her back to the land of the living. When Veya looked over her shoulder, she saw her pinned to the castle wall, with a dagger pressed to her guts and threatening to dig in. “Mother!” Another agonizing cry, weak and hoarse, barely enough to clearly cut through the noise of steel and broken jaws.
The sight looked like a piece that was part of a nightmare; she no longer recognized the tranquility of the gardens, but the flurry of battle; there was no smell of roses, but that of blood which now imbued her nostrils. When an arm wrapped around her middle, she protested the pull, not for the wish of staying to absorb the sight, but for the sake of her mother, in one last futile attempt to protect what was left of her family.
She had not heard Drakon’s cry in far too long. The skies were silent once again, a silence that was more harrowing than a deathly cry. “Mother!” Veya cried again as she felt the arm around her pull with more force than she could withstand, and soon, she found herself running in the same direction as the stranger who had followed them there, the man of dark hair and amber eyes, the son of a late knight who had served Queen Evolet, and now fulfilled his duties through his offspring.
The balcony opened itself into nothingness, overlooking the sea from the tallest point of Aramoor. The waves crashed somewhere beneath the stone holding it up, and dug well beneath in haves and hollows in the ancient rock. There, somewhere, Veya knew that Vyrion had fallen, farther in the depths of the sea. She did not have time to scour the horizon for a sign of it living, or rumbling beneath the waves; her eyes turned to the man by her side, enlarged in shock and stung by tears.
In that moment, she wondered if sharp stone killed faster than blades.
Wind whistled by her ears as she let herself become pray to the void. Before she could fill her lungs with air, she felt its remainder yanked out of her chest, emptied with the blow of the water’s surface crashing against her ribs. Cold washed over her, froze her limbs and rendered them numb with both relief and terror. Her shoes soon deepened in sand, and she felt an arm wrap around her middle and begin to urge her up before the force of the sea could pull her even deeper.
When they found the surface, Veya gasped for air and desperately threw her arms around the shape she found floating by her side. Her eyes stung from the salt, but she was able to make out the direction of the shore; the dark rock stood out in the moonlight, as weak as it was in the reddened sky. In the distance, somewhere above them, Aramoor still stood proudly, sending bright scarlet flames and dark smoke into the skies.
Even as they reached the shore, Veya’s gaze sought the shape of Drakon in the clouds. Her breathing and the intense beat of her heart shook her vision, and she eventually closed her eyes, letting herself fall down on her back against a patch of grass. Somewhere on the horizon, a veil of bushes and trees promised safety, but seemed too far away for her to drag herself to after the fall.
She tilted her head with a longer breath, and her eyes fell on the man by her side, drenched and cold as she was, but alive against all odds. “What is your name?” she managed; her chest and ribs ached, and her pain reflected into her voice. The smoke had muddled her brain, and she could not remember whether she had asked that before, or if she had cared to listen. Regardless, she wanted to hear a voice over the sound of Vyrion’s shriek that still replayed so vividly in her head.
The lump in her throat only grew tighter. Somewhere in the distance, she could still hear the wind carry the shouts of men and their horses, the clink of steel and sound of death. It only made the path down to safety seem much father away.
Veya could hear her breaths, heavy and almost stifling; tears rolled down her cheeks and behind into her throat. She could taste them on her tongue, a feeling which only brought her closer to the surface of reality. The sky had bled for Eider, and no trace of his dragon was painted in the sky for as long as she looked. Instead, it was as scarlet as the blood of those fighting below them, within the city walls, only emerging closer, and closer, and closer...
Her mother’s helpless shriek stirred her back to the land of the living. When Veya looked over her shoulder, she saw her pinned to the castle wall, with a dagger pressed to her guts and threatening to dig in. “Mother!” Another agonizing cry, weak and hoarse, barely enough to clearly cut through the noise of steel and broken jaws.
The sight looked like a piece that was part of a nightmare; she no longer recognized the tranquility of the gardens, but the flurry of battle; there was no smell of roses, but that of blood which now imbued her nostrils. When an arm wrapped around her middle, she protested the pull, not for the wish of staying to absorb the sight, but for the sake of her mother, in one last futile attempt to protect what was left of her family.
She had not heard Drakon’s cry in far too long. The skies were silent once again, a silence that was more harrowing than a deathly cry. “Mother!” Veya cried again as she felt the arm around her pull with more force than she could withstand, and soon, she found herself running in the same direction as the stranger who had followed them there, the man of dark hair and amber eyes, the son of a late knight who had served Queen Evolet, and now fulfilled his duties through his offspring.
The balcony opened itself into nothingness, overlooking the sea from the tallest point of Aramoor. The waves crashed somewhere beneath the stone holding it up, and dug well beneath in haves and hollows in the ancient rock. There, somewhere, Veya knew that Vyrion had fallen, farther in the depths of the sea. She did not have time to scour the horizon for a sign of it living, or rumbling beneath the waves; her eyes turned to the man by her side, enlarged in shock and stung by tears.
In that moment, she wondered if sharp stone killed faster than blades.
Wind whistled by her ears as she let herself become pray to the void. Before she could fill her lungs with air, she felt its remainder yanked out of her chest, emptied with the blow of the water’s surface crashing against her ribs. Cold washed over her, froze her limbs and rendered them numb with both relief and terror. Her shoes soon deepened in sand, and she felt an arm wrap around her middle and begin to urge her up before the force of the sea could pull her even deeper.
When they found the surface, Veya gasped for air and desperately threw her arms around the shape she found floating by her side. Her eyes stung from the salt, but she was able to make out the direction of the shore; the dark rock stood out in the moonlight, as weak as it was in the reddened sky. In the distance, somewhere above them, Aramoor still stood proudly, sending bright scarlet flames and dark smoke into the skies.
Even as they reached the shore, Veya’s gaze sought the shape of Drakon in the clouds. Her breathing and the intense beat of her heart shook her vision, and she eventually closed her eyes, letting herself fall down on her back against a patch of grass. Somewhere on the horizon, a veil of bushes and trees promised safety, but seemed too far away for her to drag herself to after the fall.
She tilted her head with a longer breath, and her eyes fell on the man by her side, drenched and cold as she was, but alive against all odds. “What is your name?” she managed; her chest and ribs ached, and her pain reflected into her voice. The smoke had muddled her brain, and she could not remember whether she had asked that before, or if she had cared to listen. Regardless, she wanted to hear a voice over the sound of Vyrion’s shriek that still replayed so vividly in her head.
The lump in her throat only grew tighter. Somewhere in the distance, she could still hear the wind carry the shouts of men and their horses, the clink of steel and sound of death. It only made the path down to safety seem much father away.
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zooka
Vampire Slayer
Leon was raised with a sword in his hand, especially once his father had passed, and a little before that as well. Still, the swim was not easy. The water was not still. The waves sought to push them into the rocky cliffside. They weren't particularly violent, but that wasn't a place he wished to get caught up. He swam with Veya, sometimes swimming for her if he felt her stop. He had strong, lean arms and legs, but this was pushing even his limit. He couldn't imagine hers. Not that she appeared so weak, but she'd just watched her brother fall and her mother be captured.
He gritted his teeth and pushed (and pulled) through until they were finally crawling up the shore. Once he was certain she was there with him, he leg his arms and legs collapse beneath him and he released a breath in a huff. Slowly, very slowly, he pushed himself onto his back so his face wasn't so unceremoniously pressed into the ground and he took a few more breaths there, trying to fan the fire in his lungs.
"Idiot," he rasped. "Fucking idiot." His head rolled to the side as he realized he'd accidentally answered her question. Maybe he'd subconsciously heard it and answered it rather truthfully because he really and truly was an idiot for jumping off the garden ledge, princess in hand, but here they were, alive.
"Leon," he breathed instead. "Name's Leon." He pushed up onto his elbows with some difficulty, but it felt good to be slightly upright, not just laying about letting the water pool in his lungs. He coughed a couple of times and when his heartbeat stopped pounding in his ears, he heard rustling.
He took a steadying breath. "They'll be looking for us," he told her. With that, he rolled back over onto all fours. He got one foot underneath him and held out his hand again to the princess.
"We'll need to run," he informed her grimly. He knew it was likely the last thing she wanted to hear right now. "Away from the city." As soon as her grasp was in his, he'd hoist them up and move into the treeline.
He gritted his teeth and pushed (and pulled) through until they were finally crawling up the shore. Once he was certain she was there with him, he leg his arms and legs collapse beneath him and he released a breath in a huff. Slowly, very slowly, he pushed himself onto his back so his face wasn't so unceremoniously pressed into the ground and he took a few more breaths there, trying to fan the fire in his lungs.
"Idiot," he rasped. "Fucking idiot." His head rolled to the side as he realized he'd accidentally answered her question. Maybe he'd subconsciously heard it and answered it rather truthfully because he really and truly was an idiot for jumping off the garden ledge, princess in hand, but here they were, alive.
"Leon," he breathed instead. "Name's Leon." He pushed up onto his elbows with some difficulty, but it felt good to be slightly upright, not just laying about letting the water pool in his lungs. He coughed a couple of times and when his heartbeat stopped pounding in his ears, he heard rustling.
He took a steadying breath. "They'll be looking for us," he told her. With that, he rolled back over onto all fours. He got one foot underneath him and held out his hand again to the princess.
"We'll need to run," he informed her grimly. He knew it was likely the last thing she wanted to hear right now. "Away from the city." As soon as her grasp was in his, he'd hoist them up and move into the treeline.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
The more she heaved, the more the fire in Veya’s throat faded and withered, a much needed alleviation following the effort of swimming through the waves. She did not want to get up from the seemingly comfortable ground, but in the back of her mind, the need to get to safety was a voice of reason. Regardless of how much she wished to return to the castle and save her mother.
It was no less difficult for the man who had saved her to lift himself up on his feet. The answer to her question came after a short delay, enough for her to almost forget that she had asked. Sounds, sensations and pain muddled her head and gathered into a painful cluster that threatened to not leave for a long while. Even after the relief of diving into deep waters, she much preferred the sword to the scourging exhaustion burning her lungs.
Running was the last thing she wished to do. Pulling herself up from the ground, she could feel the wet, heavy folds of her dress weighing her down. The scales embroidered on her bodice stuck to the skin beneath and scrubbed it like sandpaper, and the locks braided at the top of her head now dripped on her temples and forehead like black snakes.
Her own hand felt softer against his own; she held it with the last drop of strength she found within herself and managed to get back on her feet, swaying and buckling beneath her weight. “They have horses,” Veya managed, her voice raspy and dry. “They will catch us before we can hope to reach the woods.” Despite being situated so far away from the castle, the light from the bleeding sky was enough for a pair of eyes to spot them from atop the battlements. Aramoor’s tall gates had already been breached.
The emerging danger was confirmed by the shriek that filled the sky, and when Veya looked up, a dark shape cut through the clouds and bolted over the tallest towers of Dragons’ Hall. “Zerys,” the girl murmured, and both relief and fear washed over her at once. Calling upon their last dragon was a move King Orynn had not expected to require; that was, before he had witnessed Eider and Vyrion fall prey to a lone spear and drop into the sea like birds.
With a deep breath that cut through her chest and ribs like a whip, Veya kindled her last flame and began following Leon along the shore and towards the opening leading to the lip of the woods. Her steps quickened and soon turned into small leaps; running felt like even less of a good idea on slippery stone, with water dripping from every inch of her. The relief of stepping on grass soon eased the tension in her muscles from fighting to remain standing; her hand kept gripping his own, slender fingers embedded into the material of his sleeve.
Before stepping into the opening, Veya glanced back to the city walls, expecting arrows or spears to rain over them any moment.
It was no less difficult for the man who had saved her to lift himself up on his feet. The answer to her question came after a short delay, enough for her to almost forget that she had asked. Sounds, sensations and pain muddled her head and gathered into a painful cluster that threatened to not leave for a long while. Even after the relief of diving into deep waters, she much preferred the sword to the scourging exhaustion burning her lungs.
Running was the last thing she wished to do. Pulling herself up from the ground, she could feel the wet, heavy folds of her dress weighing her down. The scales embroidered on her bodice stuck to the skin beneath and scrubbed it like sandpaper, and the locks braided at the top of her head now dripped on her temples and forehead like black snakes.
Her own hand felt softer against his own; she held it with the last drop of strength she found within herself and managed to get back on her feet, swaying and buckling beneath her weight. “They have horses,” Veya managed, her voice raspy and dry. “They will catch us before we can hope to reach the woods.” Despite being situated so far away from the castle, the light from the bleeding sky was enough for a pair of eyes to spot them from atop the battlements. Aramoor’s tall gates had already been breached.
The emerging danger was confirmed by the shriek that filled the sky, and when Veya looked up, a dark shape cut through the clouds and bolted over the tallest towers of Dragons’ Hall. “Zerys,” the girl murmured, and both relief and fear washed over her at once. Calling upon their last dragon was a move King Orynn had not expected to require; that was, before he had witnessed Eider and Vyrion fall prey to a lone spear and drop into the sea like birds.
With a deep breath that cut through her chest and ribs like a whip, Veya kindled her last flame and began following Leon along the shore and towards the opening leading to the lip of the woods. Her steps quickened and soon turned into small leaps; running felt like even less of a good idea on slippery stone, with water dripping from every inch of her. The relief of stepping on grass soon eased the tension in her muscles from fighting to remain standing; her hand kept gripping his own, slender fingers embedded into the material of his sleeve.
Before stepping into the opening, Veya glanced back to the city walls, expecting arrows or spears to rain over them any moment.
zooka
Vampire Slayer
"Then we had better run fast," Leon told her simply. It was incredibly likely that they were going to be pursued at any moment. Nathar's men had seen them jump, he'd be sending riders to the shore to collect them or finish them off. their options were to wait to die or sprint... and maybe still die.
Though, looking at it that way, Leon would much rather lie down and relax a bit before the inevitable swords.
No, he couldn't give up on his pledge so soon. At least this way, there was a chance.
As they broke through the line of trees, he actually released a joyous exclamation, the start of a laugh that they'd actually made it. They ran for a bit further before he prompted them to slow. They could preserve their energy slightly, just in case, and he could hear far better this way without his heavy breath in his lungs and heart pounding in his ears. "We should head east," he said panting a bit. That was as good a place as any. Away from the capital. Away from Nathar's original seat. It was a good idea to get as far away as they could to regroup and then-
There was little time for arguing. He heard shouts and hoofbeats and, once again, they were forced to run.
It soon became unclear what was his labored heartbeat and the steady, strong pounding of hooves on the ground, but they were both growing louder and louder. He didn't know how many men were pursuing them, but it became very clear that they weren't going to outrun them. At least not both of them. Leon's hand had wrapped itself around Veya's arm again, and he all but shoved her forward ahead of him.
"Go," he commanded. "Run. I'll buy you as much time as I can." Then, he stopped running alongside her, turned, and pulled out a dagger. It was all he had left, but he would be using it to defend Veya, to the death. It's what his father would have wanted, that much was clear to him in these final moments. He could see the men riding up toward them. Gods above and below, there were eight at least, two by two on their horses.
And suddenly, two of them all but exploded off of their saddles. The momentum driving them forward and the thick arrow that pierced through their armor pressing back against them separated the men from their horses in a dramatic fashion. Leon stood slightly more upright in surprise, and then he nearly jumped out of his boots when three horses came stampeding from behind him, meeting the remaining six enemy soldiers head-on.
Though there were only three horses, there were five riders. The extra riders were stowing their longbows while the people at the reins drew out swords. The first extra rider simply leapt off of the back of the horse and tackled one of the soldiers to the ground. The other loosed a quarterstaff and with ethereal grace, drove the end into the ground and vaulted herself, heels first, into another enemy. She followed him down, though she landed on her feet and continued her staff's arc, up and over to slam down on his helmet.
The fight that followed was short. The mystery riders had their swords out and dispatched the remaining soldiers, cutting them down as they rode by. Any that got up were quickly dispatched by the acrobatic brunette. When the action finally stilled and she stood tall, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face with a cheeky puff of air. Her auburn locks were otherwise pulled back, half up with a braid, proudly displaying ears with a slight point to them.
She looked over to Leon, who straightened up with new eyes on him. He didn't know if they were friend or foe, but they were the enemy of his enemy, so...
"They were chasing you two?" she asked, the end of her staff wavering between himself and Veya. Leon swallowed, but he nodded. The girl nodded. She bent down, picked up one of the enemy's swords, and tossed it toward Leon. He caught it, though he was still in a state of shock. "Try that next time," she told him, noting his dagger. Clearly, she was containing a smirk and he rolled his eyes. He'd ditched his for the swim, but he didn't have a moment to tell her that. His eyes landed on hers and he couldn't quite place why they stalled him. They were green, though they had a brilliant burst of amber in the middle. He blinked. She moved on.
"Horses?" she asked.
Another man, laden with furs, was walking back toward the group with two more horses. His face was heavy with storied lines, his skin as tan as fresh leather. His eyes were dark and his hair might have been, too, though he had plenty of silver to accompany it now in his brows, beard, and hair. Despite that, he looked strong and sturdy. "Two more."
"Take one," the girl said. "Follow us. We have a camp on the other side of the hill. You can dry off."
Leon hesitated. The man was holding reins out to him and he looked back to Veya. Did she trust these saviors? He was inclined to, for lack of better options.
Though, looking at it that way, Leon would much rather lie down and relax a bit before the inevitable swords.
No, he couldn't give up on his pledge so soon. At least this way, there was a chance.
As they broke through the line of trees, he actually released a joyous exclamation, the start of a laugh that they'd actually made it. They ran for a bit further before he prompted them to slow. They could preserve their energy slightly, just in case, and he could hear far better this way without his heavy breath in his lungs and heart pounding in his ears. "We should head east," he said panting a bit. That was as good a place as any. Away from the capital. Away from Nathar's original seat. It was a good idea to get as far away as they could to regroup and then-
There was little time for arguing. He heard shouts and hoofbeats and, once again, they were forced to run.
It soon became unclear what was his labored heartbeat and the steady, strong pounding of hooves on the ground, but they were both growing louder and louder. He didn't know how many men were pursuing them, but it became very clear that they weren't going to outrun them. At least not both of them. Leon's hand had wrapped itself around Veya's arm again, and he all but shoved her forward ahead of him.
"Go," he commanded. "Run. I'll buy you as much time as I can." Then, he stopped running alongside her, turned, and pulled out a dagger. It was all he had left, but he would be using it to defend Veya, to the death. It's what his father would have wanted, that much was clear to him in these final moments. He could see the men riding up toward them. Gods above and below, there were eight at least, two by two on their horses.
And suddenly, two of them all but exploded off of their saddles. The momentum driving them forward and the thick arrow that pierced through their armor pressing back against them separated the men from their horses in a dramatic fashion. Leon stood slightly more upright in surprise, and then he nearly jumped out of his boots when three horses came stampeding from behind him, meeting the remaining six enemy soldiers head-on.
Though there were only three horses, there were five riders. The extra riders were stowing their longbows while the people at the reins drew out swords. The first extra rider simply leapt off of the back of the horse and tackled one of the soldiers to the ground. The other loosed a quarterstaff and with ethereal grace, drove the end into the ground and vaulted herself, heels first, into another enemy. She followed him down, though she landed on her feet and continued her staff's arc, up and over to slam down on his helmet.
The fight that followed was short. The mystery riders had their swords out and dispatched the remaining soldiers, cutting them down as they rode by. Any that got up were quickly dispatched by the acrobatic brunette. When the action finally stilled and she stood tall, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face with a cheeky puff of air. Her auburn locks were otherwise pulled back, half up with a braid, proudly displaying ears with a slight point to them.
She looked over to Leon, who straightened up with new eyes on him. He didn't know if they were friend or foe, but they were the enemy of his enemy, so...
"They were chasing you two?" she asked, the end of her staff wavering between himself and Veya. Leon swallowed, but he nodded. The girl nodded. She bent down, picked up one of the enemy's swords, and tossed it toward Leon. He caught it, though he was still in a state of shock. "Try that next time," she told him, noting his dagger. Clearly, she was containing a smirk and he rolled his eyes. He'd ditched his for the swim, but he didn't have a moment to tell her that. His eyes landed on hers and he couldn't quite place why they stalled him. They were green, though they had a brilliant burst of amber in the middle. He blinked. She moved on.
"Horses?" she asked.
Another man, laden with furs, was walking back toward the group with two more horses. His face was heavy with storied lines, his skin as tan as fresh leather. His eyes were dark and his hair might have been, too, though he had plenty of silver to accompany it now in his brows, beard, and hair. Despite that, he looked strong and sturdy. "Two more."
"Take one," the girl said. "Follow us. We have a camp on the other side of the hill. You can dry off."
Leon hesitated. The man was holding reins out to him and he looked back to Veya. Did she trust these saviors? He was inclined to, for lack of better options.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
Veya could feel each of her heavy breaths scourge her throat on the way out; blood rung in her ears, pumped and pulsated at the base of her jaw, and her heart hurt more and more by the second. From the middle of the empty field, the forest seemed too far away, a dark shape painted in the darkness, a blind promise of shelter and safety in the face of imminent death.
The damp folds of her dress stuck to her calves, making it even more arduous to run. Veya forced herself not to look back, but instead only listen, hungrily taking in any sound or screech that might belong to Zerys or Drakon, to reassure herself that they, at the very least, were still alive. The sounds of battle ringing in her ears were muffled by that of her own breathing, and the more she fought to still it, the more it scorched through her lungs.
It seemed like turns of the clock until they finally reached the edge of the woods and dived into the deep darkness. Aramoor’s lights glistened somewhere high on the horizon, behind the thick shroud of leaves and branches shielding them from the opening. Veya stopped abruptly and leaned against an old trunk with a sigh of both relief and exhaustion, too heavy to carry herself on her feet any longer. She heard Leon close behind her, but could not discern any words from the loud heaving.
The tranquility of the moment did not last for long. Soon, hooves reverberated in the empty silence, hammers against the ground, and Leon’s voice turned into the guard’s shouts and their horses’ nickering as they rode closer and closer to the woods. Veya felt her feet bite into the ground once again, perhaps even faster and more frantically than before, and in her resumed sprint, she could hear each tree and branch whistle by her ears like arrows.
The hooves and voices seemed to be emerging from every corner of the forest; they surrounded them, menacing and unforgiving, closer and closer with every stumble that slowed she and Leon down in their tracks. He ran by her side, until he no longer did, and Veya was almost tempted to keep running until she heard his voice call out to her, until his own fingers clasped around her arm and urged her to go and leave him behind.
Looking over her shoulder, she could see the riders emerge like dark waves, bustling through the narrow openings with their silver blades drawn in the dimmed moonlight. Veya’s heartbeat merged with the sound of hooves against the dampened ground, and she could feel cold tendrils wrap around her ankles, burying her feet deep into the earth. “There is no reason any longer... I cannot outrun them,” she murmured, and relaxed slightly, waiting for the wave to crash against them.
Before hitting the shore, the wave froze and crashed like ice. Arrows whistled in the darkness, landing and piercing some of the soldiers in the split between their plate and collar, others right between their eyes. Tall silhouettes rose from the black behind them and, soon enough, the odds that once were against the escapees turned against the chasers. There was little she could make out in the night, aside from the mere notion of movement, and judging by Leon’s stillness by her side, he was struggling to make sense of the chaos as well.
The battle was short. In brief moments, the silver earlier emerging from the field bled on the ground, unmoving like marble statues, and in the very middle of the carnage stood a woman, tall and pale in the light of the moon, barely touched by fatigue, as though it all had been an effort equal to hopping on the back of a horse. Veya’s eyes scoured her without a word, careful and still. Her fists were clenched and her lips were parted to accomodate the heavy breathing that still burnt through her throat.
“We had no weapons,” she replied back to her, half bitterly, half too fatigued to manage any fire. “They have been chasing us since we crawled from the beach.”
It was almost impossible to hide the relief in her voice then, the tears threatening to spill over her heated cheeks. She had prepared herself for death, and cheated it by some odds she would not have hoped for in the moment. Looking over to Leon, she sought some sort of confirmation, and was met with the same worn out gaze. “We took a blind leap into the ocean in the lack of a better choice,” she muttered. “We cannot afford to remain here.”
With that, she pulled herself atop one of the steeds, leaving room for him in the back. It took all of her strength to remain standing straight and not lean against the horse’s nape to seek warmth and repose. Veya glanced over to the group surrounding them, then to the woman who had saved them, and offered a hesitant nod. “House Adain will be forever grateful...” She did not know her name, but did not urge her to disclose. If she was what Veya thought she was... Her nature was as beautiful as it was reticent.
The damp folds of her dress stuck to her calves, making it even more arduous to run. Veya forced herself not to look back, but instead only listen, hungrily taking in any sound or screech that might belong to Zerys or Drakon, to reassure herself that they, at the very least, were still alive. The sounds of battle ringing in her ears were muffled by that of her own breathing, and the more she fought to still it, the more it scorched through her lungs.
It seemed like turns of the clock until they finally reached the edge of the woods and dived into the deep darkness. Aramoor’s lights glistened somewhere high on the horizon, behind the thick shroud of leaves and branches shielding them from the opening. Veya stopped abruptly and leaned against an old trunk with a sigh of both relief and exhaustion, too heavy to carry herself on her feet any longer. She heard Leon close behind her, but could not discern any words from the loud heaving.
The tranquility of the moment did not last for long. Soon, hooves reverberated in the empty silence, hammers against the ground, and Leon’s voice turned into the guard’s shouts and their horses’ nickering as they rode closer and closer to the woods. Veya felt her feet bite into the ground once again, perhaps even faster and more frantically than before, and in her resumed sprint, she could hear each tree and branch whistle by her ears like arrows.
The hooves and voices seemed to be emerging from every corner of the forest; they surrounded them, menacing and unforgiving, closer and closer with every stumble that slowed she and Leon down in their tracks. He ran by her side, until he no longer did, and Veya was almost tempted to keep running until she heard his voice call out to her, until his own fingers clasped around her arm and urged her to go and leave him behind.
Looking over her shoulder, she could see the riders emerge like dark waves, bustling through the narrow openings with their silver blades drawn in the dimmed moonlight. Veya’s heartbeat merged with the sound of hooves against the dampened ground, and she could feel cold tendrils wrap around her ankles, burying her feet deep into the earth. “There is no reason any longer... I cannot outrun them,” she murmured, and relaxed slightly, waiting for the wave to crash against them.
Before hitting the shore, the wave froze and crashed like ice. Arrows whistled in the darkness, landing and piercing some of the soldiers in the split between their plate and collar, others right between their eyes. Tall silhouettes rose from the black behind them and, soon enough, the odds that once were against the escapees turned against the chasers. There was little she could make out in the night, aside from the mere notion of movement, and judging by Leon’s stillness by her side, he was struggling to make sense of the chaos as well.
The battle was short. In brief moments, the silver earlier emerging from the field bled on the ground, unmoving like marble statues, and in the very middle of the carnage stood a woman, tall and pale in the light of the moon, barely touched by fatigue, as though it all had been an effort equal to hopping on the back of a horse. Veya’s eyes scoured her without a word, careful and still. Her fists were clenched and her lips were parted to accomodate the heavy breathing that still burnt through her throat.
“We had no weapons,” she replied back to her, half bitterly, half too fatigued to manage any fire. “They have been chasing us since we crawled from the beach.”
It was almost impossible to hide the relief in her voice then, the tears threatening to spill over her heated cheeks. She had prepared herself for death, and cheated it by some odds she would not have hoped for in the moment. Looking over to Leon, she sought some sort of confirmation, and was met with the same worn out gaze. “We took a blind leap into the ocean in the lack of a better choice,” she muttered. “We cannot afford to remain here.”
With that, she pulled herself atop one of the steeds, leaving room for him in the back. It took all of her strength to remain standing straight and not lean against the horse’s nape to seek warmth and repose. Veya glanced over to the group surrounding them, then to the woman who had saved them, and offered a hesitant nod. “House Adain will be forever grateful...” She did not know her name, but did not urge her to disclose. If she was what Veya thought she was... Her nature was as beautiful as it was reticent.
zooka
Vampire Slayer
After Veya got on the horse, Leon pulled himself up after. Their clothes were cold and heavy and they were both exhausted. Though, on top of all of that, Veya had just watched her brother fall from the sky and had to be torn away from her mother, the fate of whom was unclear. Leon himself wondered about his uncle, how he'd fared in the battle. Though his life had been taken over by anguish and hate, he was still the only family Leon had. To say he felt bad for turning his back on him, with hardly a word, would be an understatement.
But he knew somewhere deep down that he'd made the right decision.
He reached around in front of Veya, one hand taking the reins, the other securing around her waist. He could guide the horse and she could relax her abused muscles. And perhaps it was a silent reminder that he had her. If they were being led into even more danger, he would defend her then, too. As the horses took off, Leon knew it wouldn't be an easy, relaxing ride, either. They were getting back to the camp and quickly before they could be tracked. It was bumpy and uncomfortable through the wood and it became necessary for him to hold on to her and the reins while she kept them secure on the saddle.
It was another test of endurance, but they made it over the hill and Leon relaxed his tired legs. He slid off of the horse and then put both arms up to help Veya down. A hand stayed on her back even after to ensure that she was steady.
The elven female was there, too, seemingly ready to help Veya. "Come, I've got dry clothes for you." Though, to tide her over, the wizened man laid his fur cloak over her shoulders. "I'm Sophia, by the way," the brunette woman told them. She was average height and she had a rather petite build, though she had some obvious lean muscle. She walked with them all the way to one of the tents that had been set up and, at the door, the other man put a hand on Leon's shoulder and led him away to a different tent, to give the women some privacy. Leon's gut coiled instinctively but, upon looking around, he relaxed.
These people here... it was like a patchwork quilt. They were no villains. There were hardly two alike between any of them.
"I am Tai," the man said, holding out his hand. Leon shook it. It was large and heavy. "We," he gestured to the small camp, "are Ninquelote. Or at least some of them. We've set up camps around the edge of Nathar's camps, spread ourselves out between them. We're a resistance group. Small, but we do what we can." He inclined his head toward Leon. "Like rescue those trying to get to safety."
"Thank you," Leon said, sincerity heavy in his voice. Tai spoke a few low words to one of the other men in the camp and then responded.
"It is our pleasure. All of us have been wronged in some way or another by Lord Nathar and his men and his reign," he informed Leon. Though Lord Nathar didn't have absolute control, he'd been inflicting what damage he could in the corner of the world he controlled.
The other man returned and passed some clothes on to Leon. He thanked him again and then was left alone in the tent to hurriedly change into the warmer gear.
In the other tent, Sophia had given Veya clothing and a watered down version of the same story. Though she had been the driving force behind uniting these wronged people, he didn't particularly like to boast about such a thing. She explained them as, basically, a "group of people who hate Lord Nathar as much as you" and left it at that with a cheeky smile. Despite the current situation, that seemed to be her main mode. It was hard to peg her as the leader of anything, though it was clear soon enough by her actions and words that she did have some level of authority here.
"There's food out by the fire," she informed Veya. "Or you can just soak up the warmth." She gave the woman some privacy and then met Tai once more. "Can Niv send word to the other camps to interfere with any search parties?" He responded with a nod and a signal whistle, directed toward the trees.
A rather large eagle came down from a nearby branch and perched atop his leather-protected forearm.
But he knew somewhere deep down that he'd made the right decision.
He reached around in front of Veya, one hand taking the reins, the other securing around her waist. He could guide the horse and she could relax her abused muscles. And perhaps it was a silent reminder that he had her. If they were being led into even more danger, he would defend her then, too. As the horses took off, Leon knew it wouldn't be an easy, relaxing ride, either. They were getting back to the camp and quickly before they could be tracked. It was bumpy and uncomfortable through the wood and it became necessary for him to hold on to her and the reins while she kept them secure on the saddle.
It was another test of endurance, but they made it over the hill and Leon relaxed his tired legs. He slid off of the horse and then put both arms up to help Veya down. A hand stayed on her back even after to ensure that she was steady.
The elven female was there, too, seemingly ready to help Veya. "Come, I've got dry clothes for you." Though, to tide her over, the wizened man laid his fur cloak over her shoulders. "I'm Sophia, by the way," the brunette woman told them. She was average height and she had a rather petite build, though she had some obvious lean muscle. She walked with them all the way to one of the tents that had been set up and, at the door, the other man put a hand on Leon's shoulder and led him away to a different tent, to give the women some privacy. Leon's gut coiled instinctively but, upon looking around, he relaxed.
These people here... it was like a patchwork quilt. They were no villains. There were hardly two alike between any of them.
"I am Tai," the man said, holding out his hand. Leon shook it. It was large and heavy. "We," he gestured to the small camp, "are Ninquelote. Or at least some of them. We've set up camps around the edge of Nathar's camps, spread ourselves out between them. We're a resistance group. Small, but we do what we can." He inclined his head toward Leon. "Like rescue those trying to get to safety."
"Thank you," Leon said, sincerity heavy in his voice. Tai spoke a few low words to one of the other men in the camp and then responded.
"It is our pleasure. All of us have been wronged in some way or another by Lord Nathar and his men and his reign," he informed Leon. Though Lord Nathar didn't have absolute control, he'd been inflicting what damage he could in the corner of the world he controlled.
The other man returned and passed some clothes on to Leon. He thanked him again and then was left alone in the tent to hurriedly change into the warmer gear.
In the other tent, Sophia had given Veya clothing and a watered down version of the same story. Though she had been the driving force behind uniting these wronged people, he didn't particularly like to boast about such a thing. She explained them as, basically, a "group of people who hate Lord Nathar as much as you" and left it at that with a cheeky smile. Despite the current situation, that seemed to be her main mode. It was hard to peg her as the leader of anything, though it was clear soon enough by her actions and words that she did have some level of authority here.
"There's food out by the fire," she informed Veya. "Or you can just soak up the warmth." She gave the woman some privacy and then met Tai once more. "Can Niv send word to the other camps to interfere with any search parties?" He responded with a nod and a signal whistle, directed toward the trees.
A rather large eagle came down from a nearby branch and perched atop his leather-protected forearm.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
The world from atop the horse looked like a pale dream; Veya could not make much sense of the shapes coiling and bustling between the tall trees, but could hear each one of their breaths, mingling in the air like flames. Leon’s arm around her brought an odd comfort and stability - even if she knew she could hold herself up, she no longer needed to worry about guiding their horse. Instead, she leaned against his mass with confidence and only made an effort to keep her head up straight and her legs well latched to the sides of the mount beneath them.
By the time they reached another opening, Veya could not recall the way there. It beaconed against the night and every torch lit up the sky like a moon in itself, casting clear shadows of the tents and bedrolls scattered over the freshly trodden grass. The trees scattered and rarefied somewhere behind the scene, but gathered once again to fill the forest grounds in a shroud thick enough to keep separate them from anything in Aramoor’s vicinity. There, they could not hear the waves, nor the shouts of battle and clinks of steel, but only the rustling of men moving about the camp and light chatter in the air.
They came to a slightly abrupt stop, which made Veya wonder if Leon had almost dozed off as well. She felt his arms wrap around her after the hopped off of their horse with a muffled thump, and she followed mindlessly soon after. The rims of her dress had dried off from the movement, but the bodice was still heavy with sweat and salt water, which only burdened her even more, alongside the sore muscles and aching bones.
She felt another weight pull her down by the shoulders, but this once pleasant, dry and warm. “Thank you,” she murmured absentmindedly to the man by her side – an old hunter by the looks of it, but as steady as Leon or any other. Her eyes flickered to the elf whom she now knew by the name of Sophia, and she gave her a weak nod. Veya did not think she was required to present herself, despite the lack of proper addressing, which in that moment she could not be bothered to do more than simply shrug off.
As she lead them down to one of the tents, Veya took a moment to scour through the sea of strangers; they all wore armour of different kinds: leather or silver, patched or new. Their features hinted at roots far from the South-Eastern lands of Edelmere, either painted from forehead to chin, or too far away for her to care to recognize. Their gazes followed them, some more attentively than others, but the general disinterest was welcomed that night.
She did not make note of Leon’s absence until she stepped into the tent with Sophia. Her stomach turned slightly at the thought of being left alone, but the woman’s nonchalance eased some of her worries. It was only when she took a seat that Veya realised how intensely she was trembling, and the warmth in the tent reminded her of the cold of the sea still cutting through her limbs. “You are not with the rebels,” the Princess observed as she watched Sophia pace from one side of the tent to the other. “I know that Nathar Dareon’s army did not strike alone. The nearby settlements were affected as well.”
The latter had not been the clean work of an organized army. She had only heard rumours, and moments before the Capital had been attacked. Regardless, she was relieved that their saviors were not with the enemy.
But Sophia seemed unaffected. She was cold, but polite enough for her offers to not translate as condescending, and Veya was thankful for the lack of too much agitation and chatter, even more so when the woman left the tent and she remained alone, in the dim light of a few lone candles perched up on an old log.
He had witnessed it all from above, from the battle atop Aramoor’s battlements to the attack that had taken Dareon’s men by surprise. When he had informed Sophia of the two escapees, he had been sure they would arrive late, even atop their horses; the forest ground did not make for a good riding track. Yet by the time he had left the raven’s mind, they had already brought yet another unexpected victory.
Emric’s gaze remained on Sophia and Tai expectantly. From a distance, he could not make out the words on their lips, but he knew that they were likely talking about their new acquisitions. It became more and more difficult for him to wait without clear answers, and so he shot up from his seat around the fire and stomped down the path to her tent, with his bow gripped tightly between his pale, slender fingers.
“King Orynn’s daughter is alive?” he asked with a slight disdain in his voice. He had no love for the man, and by extension, anything that sprung out of him and his mind alike. He had seen another man on the horse, armoured in places but otherwise in thin, plain leather, which made him doubt that he had been any more than a squire. “Her brother’s dead,” he added dryly, and his eyes moved over to Tai for a moment, then back to Sophia. “I suppose we do not need to wait until morning to consider Aramoor fallen.”
By the time they reached another opening, Veya could not recall the way there. It beaconed against the night and every torch lit up the sky like a moon in itself, casting clear shadows of the tents and bedrolls scattered over the freshly trodden grass. The trees scattered and rarefied somewhere behind the scene, but gathered once again to fill the forest grounds in a shroud thick enough to keep separate them from anything in Aramoor’s vicinity. There, they could not hear the waves, nor the shouts of battle and clinks of steel, but only the rustling of men moving about the camp and light chatter in the air.
They came to a slightly abrupt stop, which made Veya wonder if Leon had almost dozed off as well. She felt his arms wrap around her after the hopped off of their horse with a muffled thump, and she followed mindlessly soon after. The rims of her dress had dried off from the movement, but the bodice was still heavy with sweat and salt water, which only burdened her even more, alongside the sore muscles and aching bones.
She felt another weight pull her down by the shoulders, but this once pleasant, dry and warm. “Thank you,” she murmured absentmindedly to the man by her side – an old hunter by the looks of it, but as steady as Leon or any other. Her eyes flickered to the elf whom she now knew by the name of Sophia, and she gave her a weak nod. Veya did not think she was required to present herself, despite the lack of proper addressing, which in that moment she could not be bothered to do more than simply shrug off.
As she lead them down to one of the tents, Veya took a moment to scour through the sea of strangers; they all wore armour of different kinds: leather or silver, patched or new. Their features hinted at roots far from the South-Eastern lands of Edelmere, either painted from forehead to chin, or too far away for her to care to recognize. Their gazes followed them, some more attentively than others, but the general disinterest was welcomed that night.
She did not make note of Leon’s absence until she stepped into the tent with Sophia. Her stomach turned slightly at the thought of being left alone, but the woman’s nonchalance eased some of her worries. It was only when she took a seat that Veya realised how intensely she was trembling, and the warmth in the tent reminded her of the cold of the sea still cutting through her limbs. “You are not with the rebels,” the Princess observed as she watched Sophia pace from one side of the tent to the other. “I know that Nathar Dareon’s army did not strike alone. The nearby settlements were affected as well.”
The latter had not been the clean work of an organized army. She had only heard rumours, and moments before the Capital had been attacked. Regardless, she was relieved that their saviors were not with the enemy.
But Sophia seemed unaffected. She was cold, but polite enough for her offers to not translate as condescending, and Veya was thankful for the lack of too much agitation and chatter, even more so when the woman left the tent and she remained alone, in the dim light of a few lone candles perched up on an old log.
*
The murmur of the forest made Emric uneasy, despite the good knews he had heard spread around the camp like wildfire. Old or silent as they often were, the people that Sophia had managed to gather from all corners of the realm caught ablaze when it came to something new and exciting. Oddly enough, it was not the battles that incited them most, but their offsprings and eventual results, whether they were in their favour or not.
He had witnessed it all from above, from the battle atop Aramoor’s battlements to the attack that had taken Dareon’s men by surprise. When he had informed Sophia of the two escapees, he had been sure they would arrive late, even atop their horses; the forest ground did not make for a good riding track. Yet by the time he had left the raven’s mind, they had already brought yet another unexpected victory.
Emric’s gaze remained on Sophia and Tai expectantly. From a distance, he could not make out the words on their lips, but he knew that they were likely talking about their new acquisitions. It became more and more difficult for him to wait without clear answers, and so he shot up from his seat around the fire and stomped down the path to her tent, with his bow gripped tightly between his pale, slender fingers.
“King Orynn’s daughter is alive?” he asked with a slight disdain in his voice. He had no love for the man, and by extension, anything that sprung out of him and his mind alike. He had seen another man on the horse, armoured in places but otherwise in thin, plain leather, which made him doubt that he had been any more than a squire. “Her brother’s dead,” he added dryly, and his eyes moved over to Tai for a moment, then back to Sophia. “I suppose we do not need to wait until morning to consider Aramoor fallen.”
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zooka
Vampire Slayer
Sophia looked up at Emric. He was taller than she was, but that never seemed to intimidate her. Nothing really did. One corner of her lips turned up as he gave his contribution to the conversation, as harrowing as it was.
"Emric, remember that thing we talked about?" She had a teasing tone and she raised a dark, delicate brow. "Tact?" Her smile softened a bit and she motioned toward the tent with the tilt of her head. "They've been in full sprint since leaving the castle, I can't imagine it's going well over there. And now, we have the only heir to the throne, and therefore, the only one who can take it back from Nathar if he's claimed it."
She turned the next sentiment to Tai, because she didn't know if it would land quite as much with Emric. "We need to keep her safe."
Tai gave a nod, though it was always difficult to tell with the man whether he was agreeing or simply accepting an order. Sophia didn't really "order" people around. She didn't have some title among them as one might in a military unit. And she didn't use other people's titles often, given how loosely she referred to Nathar and her lack of proper addressing to Veya. Everyone was born on this earth for a reason and some people had bigger ripples, but no one was more or less important.
Except, right now, Veya was very valuable.
"We can't stay here for long, but they need a bit of time to rest before we move," she said next, turning her smile up to Emric once more. She might tease him sometimes, but she appreciated him. "Can you help keep watch? I can take a team out to patrol and you can call me back if you need me." Sophia never thought twice about taking on a dangerous position. If she wouldn't do it herself, she'd never send out a unit to do it period.
Leon emerged from his tent and followed the familiar voices at that point. "Where's Veya?" was his first order of business, though he didn't sound rushed or worried or accusatory.
"She's changing into warmer clothes. I told her she could get some food and warmth by the fire. You should do the same," she instructed him. "And get some rest. We won't stay here too long, but we can take a bit of time. We've got scouts and patrols all around, we'll know if we need to move quickly."
Leon nodded at that, but he still wanted to check on Veya before any other actions were taken. "What tent?" he asked. Sophia pointed it out for him and he thanked her before walking over.
"Princess?" he didn't enter yet, not knowing if she was decent.
"Emric, remember that thing we talked about?" She had a teasing tone and she raised a dark, delicate brow. "Tact?" Her smile softened a bit and she motioned toward the tent with the tilt of her head. "They've been in full sprint since leaving the castle, I can't imagine it's going well over there. And now, we have the only heir to the throne, and therefore, the only one who can take it back from Nathar if he's claimed it."
She turned the next sentiment to Tai, because she didn't know if it would land quite as much with Emric. "We need to keep her safe."
Tai gave a nod, though it was always difficult to tell with the man whether he was agreeing or simply accepting an order. Sophia didn't really "order" people around. She didn't have some title among them as one might in a military unit. And she didn't use other people's titles often, given how loosely she referred to Nathar and her lack of proper addressing to Veya. Everyone was born on this earth for a reason and some people had bigger ripples, but no one was more or less important.
Except, right now, Veya was very valuable.
"We can't stay here for long, but they need a bit of time to rest before we move," she said next, turning her smile up to Emric once more. She might tease him sometimes, but she appreciated him. "Can you help keep watch? I can take a team out to patrol and you can call me back if you need me." Sophia never thought twice about taking on a dangerous position. If she wouldn't do it herself, she'd never send out a unit to do it period.
Leon emerged from his tent and followed the familiar voices at that point. "Where's Veya?" was his first order of business, though he didn't sound rushed or worried or accusatory.
"She's changing into warmer clothes. I told her she could get some food and warmth by the fire. You should do the same," she instructed him. "And get some rest. We won't stay here too long, but we can take a bit of time. We've got scouts and patrols all around, we'll know if we need to move quickly."
Leon nodded at that, but he still wanted to check on Veya before any other actions were taken. "What tent?" he asked. Sophia pointed it out for him and he thanked her before walking over.
"Princess?" he didn't enter yet, not knowing if she was decent.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
Emric was left unmoved by Sophia’s attempt to earn a sign of interest out of him, yet he did sketch a slight curl in the corner of his lips and her relentless teasing. He cared as much about the future of Edelmere as any other, if only for the sake of those who were condemned to live under its future sovereign. “Sometimes we do have to pick the lesser evil,” he added, and his gaze flickered briefly to the tent behind Sophia. After all, it was not the Adains that had brought doom upon them, but their lack of taking action had contributed to the problem.
He did not disagree with her order given to Tai and himself, and frankly, he did not think he would be feeling the need to rest his eyes until dawn, either. The smoke rising from the walls of the Capital had reached the woods, and the absence of screams and movement to indicate a resolution would only preserve his unrest.
“I will watch over the settlement,” the man nodded, and brushed a stray dark lock away from his slightly damp temple. His head still pounded from slipping into the bird’s vision from moments before, but he knew he had it in him to do it again if need be. “Although I doubt they will be searching too avidly for her before dawn. They were seen leaving on foot.” That way, they could not have gotten too far.
His head turned to the unfamiliar voice that rung behind him, but he quickly recognized the man by the strange clothes etched with the sigil of Halsengard. The lack of worry in his voice made Emric wonder if the man was mad, or simply too exhausted from the run to mind the potential danger. He watched him trot over to the other tent, and eventually turned back to Sophia with a faint smirk playing on his lips again.
“The heir’s weapon of choice is a young squire?” Emric asked derisively. It was hard to believe that a man of his age had made it all the way from between the walls of Aramoor without a scratch. “An enemy squire, for that matter. He bears the banners of Halsengard.” No symbol hinting at a loyalty to Nathar Dareon, but the former was enough to attest it. “Does that not make you distrustful, Sophia?”
*
Stripping herself of her scales and heavy folds felt like an even deeper jab at that night’s wounds, but Veya took the blow without a word leaving her lips. She did not pay attention to the fabric wrinkling in between her fingers as she pulled it over her nudity; instead, before her eyes, she could not help but replay the scene of Eider’s fall.
Vyrion’s screech still echoed in her ears even then. She could feel the wind whistle by her temples and feel her stomach twist as it fell from the sky, as though she had been riding it herself. The shock of flesh hitting the cold water beneath felt too familiar then, and she did not wish to imagine the agony of the fall from such a height. The pain that Eider had felt a split second before the sea had claimed his last breath.
With the dry material now clinging to her every shape, Veya sat on the edge of the thin mattress placed on the ground and peeked through the tent flap at the dark silhouettes moving outside. It was a battle to force the thoughts of her mother’s fate out of her mind, and they were almost less painful than the tension in her muscles, only heightened by the cold which still echoed within her, only partly diminished after removing the wet garments.
The scales still glimmered on the ground like a long lost victory.
Leon’s voice startled her. Veya shot up from her seat, floated over to the tent flap and parted it open just enough to ensure that it was him. Then, she straightened herself and let out an almost relieved sigh. “I should not have trusted them,” she murmured, “but I had no better choice.” The statement left her lips like an apology, and she felt her throat clench as she attempted to speak again. She did not fight to hide the wretched expression painted on her features, but could almost see a fraction of it reflected in his eyes, and she knew that he shared her fear.
Veya swallowed and took a step closer to him, not quite exposing herself to the light outside the tent. “You are the only one I trust with my life. Blindly... But I trust you.” And she was to tired to place her fate in her own hands right then.
He did not disagree with her order given to Tai and himself, and frankly, he did not think he would be feeling the need to rest his eyes until dawn, either. The smoke rising from the walls of the Capital had reached the woods, and the absence of screams and movement to indicate a resolution would only preserve his unrest.
“I will watch over the settlement,” the man nodded, and brushed a stray dark lock away from his slightly damp temple. His head still pounded from slipping into the bird’s vision from moments before, but he knew he had it in him to do it again if need be. “Although I doubt they will be searching too avidly for her before dawn. They were seen leaving on foot.” That way, they could not have gotten too far.
His head turned to the unfamiliar voice that rung behind him, but he quickly recognized the man by the strange clothes etched with the sigil of Halsengard. The lack of worry in his voice made Emric wonder if the man was mad, or simply too exhausted from the run to mind the potential danger. He watched him trot over to the other tent, and eventually turned back to Sophia with a faint smirk playing on his lips again.
“The heir’s weapon of choice is a young squire?” Emric asked derisively. It was hard to believe that a man of his age had made it all the way from between the walls of Aramoor without a scratch. “An enemy squire, for that matter. He bears the banners of Halsengard.” No symbol hinting at a loyalty to Nathar Dareon, but the former was enough to attest it. “Does that not make you distrustful, Sophia?”
*
Stripping herself of her scales and heavy folds felt like an even deeper jab at that night’s wounds, but Veya took the blow without a word leaving her lips. She did not pay attention to the fabric wrinkling in between her fingers as she pulled it over her nudity; instead, before her eyes, she could not help but replay the scene of Eider’s fall.
Vyrion’s screech still echoed in her ears even then. She could feel the wind whistle by her temples and feel her stomach twist as it fell from the sky, as though she had been riding it herself. The shock of flesh hitting the cold water beneath felt too familiar then, and she did not wish to imagine the agony of the fall from such a height. The pain that Eider had felt a split second before the sea had claimed his last breath.
With the dry material now clinging to her every shape, Veya sat on the edge of the thin mattress placed on the ground and peeked through the tent flap at the dark silhouettes moving outside. It was a battle to force the thoughts of her mother’s fate out of her mind, and they were almost less painful than the tension in her muscles, only heightened by the cold which still echoed within her, only partly diminished after removing the wet garments.
The scales still glimmered on the ground like a long lost victory.
Leon’s voice startled her. Veya shot up from her seat, floated over to the tent flap and parted it open just enough to ensure that it was him. Then, she straightened herself and let out an almost relieved sigh. “I should not have trusted them,” she murmured, “but I had no better choice.” The statement left her lips like an apology, and she felt her throat clench as she attempted to speak again. She did not fight to hide the wretched expression painted on her features, but could almost see a fraction of it reflected in his eyes, and she knew that he shared her fear.
Veya swallowed and took a step closer to him, not quite exposing herself to the light outside the tent. “You are the only one I trust with my life. Blindly... But I trust you.” And she was to tired to place her fate in her own hands right then.
zooka
Vampire Slayer
Sophia glanced toward the tent containing their new acquisitions at the mention of a weapon of choice. If anything, he looked to be a mercenary. He certainly didn't look like a knight and yet there he was, defending the princess. She looked back at Emric and shrugged. "We join forces with the strangest people when desperate I suppose. Why do you think I keep you two around?"
Tai gave a deep chuckle.
"I saw the man take a stand against eight riders with only a dagger. I don't think he was bluffing," she told him. From what she could see, he'd intended to defend her with his life. He was on her side and, being on her side, was on their side. At least, Sophia was ready to side with the royal family, especially if the other option was Nathar. "I trust him." She turned another one of those smirks up to Emric, though quickly fixed it into a look of nonchalance and shrugged. "I could have done it, of course, but..."
Another deep chuckle floated out of the older man and Sophia's sparkling hazel eyes moved over to him, her smile returning. "Of course you could, aiwë." He referred to her by that some times, little bird, and she didn't seem to mind too much. He'd picked up a many bits and pieces of languages in all of his travels since his own tribe had dwindled down to just a few families. Then, they were cut down even further when Lord Nathar heard of the druid woman living in her city. Tai had returned from a hunt to find her and his daughter murdered. By burglars, the city guard said.
Still, Sophia couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing she enjoyed such a diminuitive nickname, so she told the two of them, "Go on then. I don't pay you to just sit around." She didn't pay them at all, really, but they got money off of some of the guard caravans and shipments they interrupted. She looked over to Emric. "Well, you, I do." When he was warging, he was technically just sitting around. Then, before she could get too much groaning from the elf, she went off to hand pick a couple of others to go out and patrol with her. It would be a long night.
Leon watched Veya through the incredibly careful crack in the tent. It wasn't the only crack showing. Her carefully built walls of strength - even just the short amount of time he'd spent with her, he knew of it - it was beginning to crumble as well. He did his best to give her a reserved, but reassuring smile.
"I trust them," he said, looking over to Sophia, not knowing her same words were floating towards him at that exact moment. "Call it a..." he drew in a breath, and then released it, turning back to her with that same attempt at reassurance as before. "A fool's intuition." He knew he wasn't the most competent, the most capable, the most calculating, the most... anything, but whatever he'd done, it'd gotten them this far.
"Do you want me to bring you some food, princess?" he asked. He was still as proper as he could manage. "I can keep watch while you get some sleep."
Tai gave a deep chuckle.
"I saw the man take a stand against eight riders with only a dagger. I don't think he was bluffing," she told him. From what she could see, he'd intended to defend her with his life. He was on her side and, being on her side, was on their side. At least, Sophia was ready to side with the royal family, especially if the other option was Nathar. "I trust him." She turned another one of those smirks up to Emric, though quickly fixed it into a look of nonchalance and shrugged. "I could have done it, of course, but..."
Another deep chuckle floated out of the older man and Sophia's sparkling hazel eyes moved over to him, her smile returning. "Of course you could, aiwë." He referred to her by that some times, little bird, and she didn't seem to mind too much. He'd picked up a many bits and pieces of languages in all of his travels since his own tribe had dwindled down to just a few families. Then, they were cut down even further when Lord Nathar heard of the druid woman living in her city. Tai had returned from a hunt to find her and his daughter murdered. By burglars, the city guard said.
Still, Sophia couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing she enjoyed such a diminuitive nickname, so she told the two of them, "Go on then. I don't pay you to just sit around." She didn't pay them at all, really, but they got money off of some of the guard caravans and shipments they interrupted. She looked over to Emric. "Well, you, I do." When he was warging, he was technically just sitting around. Then, before she could get too much groaning from the elf, she went off to hand pick a couple of others to go out and patrol with her. It would be a long night.
Leon watched Veya through the incredibly careful crack in the tent. It wasn't the only crack showing. Her carefully built walls of strength - even just the short amount of time he'd spent with her, he knew of it - it was beginning to crumble as well. He did his best to give her a reserved, but reassuring smile.
"I trust them," he said, looking over to Sophia, not knowing her same words were floating towards him at that exact moment. "Call it a..." he drew in a breath, and then released it, turning back to her with that same attempt at reassurance as before. "A fool's intuition." He knew he wasn't the most competent, the most capable, the most calculating, the most... anything, but whatever he'd done, it'd gotten them this far.
"Do you want me to bring you some food, princess?" he asked. He was still as proper as he could manage. "I can keep watch while you get some sleep."
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
While Emric’s amber gaze floated over Sophia, he could not help but wonder how she kept kindling that fire within her in moments like those. Her derisive comments scattered around their conversations did not bother him, and frankly, he was happy to see her earn something different from Tai rather his somber brooding.
For that reason, he did not bother to oppose her. As much as he despised the game of power that the nobles dived so avidly into each time they got the chance, he wanted to have hope, even if it meant seeding it into the son of their enemy. As neutral as they had fought to stand when it came to political divisions, it was inevitable that they would have to choose sides one day, if only to survive the storm that dawned upon the Kingdom of Edelmere.
“If only you paid us for all of this,” Emric sighed playfully and canted his head. “It might be worth all the pain, then.” More often than not, he could swear that she saw it all as target practice than anything else, but in that moment, behind the smirk already faltering on her face, he could see hesitation, perhaps a droplet of fear for what was to come.
He did not shoot to his duty right away. His gaze flickered to the tent where King Orynn’s daughter was once again, and saw the knight still perched at the entrance. It made him wonder, briefly, if the girl was sane after all of that; it seemed like she was, considering she was able to talk, but the lack of intimacy requirements coming from an Adain did surprise him.
*
Leon’s attempt to chip away at the tension that imbued the tent did not go unnoticed, but did little to ease the painful lump in Veya’s throat. She did not think anything would soon, or that she would manage to shut her lids after what she had witnessed. Fatigue still boiled within her, and she lacked the strength to appear formal before the knight.
“I like to think that it is your late father speaking through you,” the Princess offered gently. Her expression faltered a bit, wavering between a faded smile and tears, but speaking seemed to at least keep it constant. “You have my condolences if they have not been spoken enough at the time. I did not know your father... Or perhaps I did, but I was too young to remember.”
Regardless, it looked like he had borrowed at least a fraction of the mentality his father had likely been knighted for. She knew that King Orynn was not one to assign titles mindlessly, and even then, his uncle as well was a trusted ally of Lord Dareon, despite him being their enemy and, by extension, Leon’s. It was difficult to believe, but strangely enough she did not doubt him any longer. Not after the lengths he had gone to in order to get her to safety.
Veya shook her head lightly and took a step back, as though to think for a moment. “I am not hungry,” she explained, although she doubted that the knight would care. “But you do not need to follow my lead. You deserve eat and rest as much as I do.” She no longer cared for titles and proper manners, or at the very least not enough to correct him if she deemed his questions and offers too intimate.
For a moment, she was tempted to offer him a seat, but quickly brushed the thought away with a weakened sigh. The burden of carrying a conversation might as well crumble her shoulders, and the sound of empty condolences was the last thing she wished to hear that night. Instead, Veya wrapped her arms around her middle and raised her chin with one last droplet of pride left within her.
“I will speak to you come dawn,” she reassured him, and stood her ground almost gingerly, waiting for him to disappear behind the flaps.
For that reason, he did not bother to oppose her. As much as he despised the game of power that the nobles dived so avidly into each time they got the chance, he wanted to have hope, even if it meant seeding it into the son of their enemy. As neutral as they had fought to stand when it came to political divisions, it was inevitable that they would have to choose sides one day, if only to survive the storm that dawned upon the Kingdom of Edelmere.
“If only you paid us for all of this,” Emric sighed playfully and canted his head. “It might be worth all the pain, then.” More often than not, he could swear that she saw it all as target practice than anything else, but in that moment, behind the smirk already faltering on her face, he could see hesitation, perhaps a droplet of fear for what was to come.
He did not shoot to his duty right away. His gaze flickered to the tent where King Orynn’s daughter was once again, and saw the knight still perched at the entrance. It made him wonder, briefly, if the girl was sane after all of that; it seemed like she was, considering she was able to talk, but the lack of intimacy requirements coming from an Adain did surprise him.
*
Leon’s attempt to chip away at the tension that imbued the tent did not go unnoticed, but did little to ease the painful lump in Veya’s throat. She did not think anything would soon, or that she would manage to shut her lids after what she had witnessed. Fatigue still boiled within her, and she lacked the strength to appear formal before the knight.
“I like to think that it is your late father speaking through you,” the Princess offered gently. Her expression faltered a bit, wavering between a faded smile and tears, but speaking seemed to at least keep it constant. “You have my condolences if they have not been spoken enough at the time. I did not know your father... Or perhaps I did, but I was too young to remember.”
Regardless, it looked like he had borrowed at least a fraction of the mentality his father had likely been knighted for. She knew that King Orynn was not one to assign titles mindlessly, and even then, his uncle as well was a trusted ally of Lord Dareon, despite him being their enemy and, by extension, Leon’s. It was difficult to believe, but strangely enough she did not doubt him any longer. Not after the lengths he had gone to in order to get her to safety.
Veya shook her head lightly and took a step back, as though to think for a moment. “I am not hungry,” she explained, although she doubted that the knight would care. “But you do not need to follow my lead. You deserve eat and rest as much as I do.” She no longer cared for titles and proper manners, or at the very least not enough to correct him if she deemed his questions and offers too intimate.
For a moment, she was tempted to offer him a seat, but quickly brushed the thought away with a weakened sigh. The burden of carrying a conversation might as well crumble her shoulders, and the sound of empty condolences was the last thing she wished to hear that night. Instead, Veya wrapped her arms around her middle and raised her chin with one last droplet of pride left within her.
“I will speak to you come dawn,” she reassured him, and stood her ground almost gingerly, waiting for him to disappear behind the flaps.
zooka
Vampire Slayer
Leon bowed his head and stepped back so she could resume the bit of privacy she'd been granted. He was certain she needed it. He worried that she didn't want to eat, but he could understand why. She'd seen her family fall tonight, in some way or another. She'd been struck hard by tragedy and uncertainty. It was a lot to handle.
He stared at the quiet tent for just a couple of moments longer before he decided he should eat something himself. He knew he needed his strength for the journey ahead, whatever it may be.
He met and shook hands with the boy manning the fire and the food and took it back to a makeshift seat not too far away from Veya's tent. He had every intention of staying awake and keeping watch over her tent. After all, he didn't know these people. Could he trust them with her life?
However, Sophia, before she left on her patrol, approached him with a kind hand on his shoulder. "Tai will be staying behind. He'll watch her. I swear on my own life that he will not let any harm come to her."
Tai happened to be nearby and felt the need to interject. "Don't use that as assurance. I have never met one more reckless, human or elf," he said.
"Fine, I swear on your life then," Sophia shot back at him, her tone teasing. She turned back to Leon and gave him an almost nonchalant shrug. "See? I'll kill him." Leon couldn't quite absorb any of the lighthearted energy she was putting out there with her assurances, but he had to appreciate the effort. He gave one last look at the tent. Sophia, instead, looked him over with keen, hazel eyes. "You're a loyal... whatever you are." It was a compliment, she just didn't know if he was a knight, a squire, a soldier, a mercenary...
After that, he was shown to a tent where he could get some rest himself and Sophia was off to roam the forest for unsuspecting enemy search parties. As suspected, it was a long night, but the dark never bothered the half-elf, and she had plenty of eyes watching her back.
He stared at the quiet tent for just a couple of moments longer before he decided he should eat something himself. He knew he needed his strength for the journey ahead, whatever it may be.
He met and shook hands with the boy manning the fire and the food and took it back to a makeshift seat not too far away from Veya's tent. He had every intention of staying awake and keeping watch over her tent. After all, he didn't know these people. Could he trust them with her life?
However, Sophia, before she left on her patrol, approached him with a kind hand on his shoulder. "Tai will be staying behind. He'll watch her. I swear on my own life that he will not let any harm come to her."
Tai happened to be nearby and felt the need to interject. "Don't use that as assurance. I have never met one more reckless, human or elf," he said.
"Fine, I swear on your life then," Sophia shot back at him, her tone teasing. She turned back to Leon and gave him an almost nonchalant shrug. "See? I'll kill him." Leon couldn't quite absorb any of the lighthearted energy she was putting out there with her assurances, but he had to appreciate the effort. He gave one last look at the tent. Sophia, instead, looked him over with keen, hazel eyes. "You're a loyal... whatever you are." It was a compliment, she just didn't know if he was a knight, a squire, a soldier, a mercenary...
After that, he was shown to a tent where he could get some rest himself and Sophia was off to roam the forest for unsuspecting enemy search parties. As suspected, it was a long night, but the dark never bothered the half-elf, and she had plenty of eyes watching her back.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
The forest stretched over the horizon like rivers of green, only dissipating when the leaves kissed the base of the rocky hills overlooking the sea. Had it not been shrouded by smoke, perhaps the scenery surrounding Aramoor’s walls would have made for a good view that morning.
Somewhere behind thick dark clouds, the first rays of sun were just dawning. Emric had been unable to close his eyes that night, but the newly birthed light breathed some life back into him. It was always awfully serene when most of the camp was still asleep, with the occasional rustling of feet coming from the area in the forest where Sophia’s men still patrolled. He had not seen Tai’s eagle, but he supposed it was somewhere close, taking in the view before its owner called it back to rest for the day.
Even then, the smoke had not faded into the clouds. Fire was still very much alive on the battlements, and visible from so far away. The battle was over, but the victor could not be spotted from such a long distance. Despite that, Emric thought he had an idea of who it was; Halsengard’s banners had not retreated North, and no dragon screeched in the sky as it had the night before. A sight to witness, but harrowing and vile. It was as though he, himself, had rooted for the Adains, even for a short moment before their doom.
The gloomy silence did not last for long. No sound of waves or creatures in the woods could cover that of a dragon. Warged into a raven, Emric would sense each and every movement that cut through the opaque clouds, and soon enough, a dark shape showed itself in the distance, brilliantly red in the morning light. The raven waited, calculated, not yet taking off from the branch so high in the sky, but as its contour became clear, drawing closer and closer to the roof of the woods, Emric fought to snap out of the small black case, blinked, flapped its wings.
Waited.
The change took over his mind like dark waves, drowning him, pulling him into strange depths. He was no longer flying then, but floating somewhere close to the ground, and by the time he managed to force his lids to open, it was already too late. His amber gaze scoured his quiet surroundings, shielded from the sight of those bustling in the opening at the unusual sound. He had been crouching on the ground, and yanking his feet from the dampened soil took much more of a fight than before, but he did manage to free himself and began sprinting over the bumps of the forest floor as fast as he could, heading for the glimmer of light that indicated the meadow where they had set up their tents.
‘Veya...’
Nothing but darkness took over that night, from the moment the Princess closed her eyes to those turns of the clock that might have passed until the sky shifted hues. She had not felt hunger, nor thirst, and she was thankful for such, as the painful lump in her throat had only returned in full force after Leon had left. A part of her had regretted her own longing for solitude, whilst the other cherished the night of peace after the nightmare of that previous evening.
‘Veya.’
It was still dark when she opened her eyes. The voice she had heard echo in her ears had vanished like a dream, and Veya found herself alone in the tent where she had dozed off in the night. The morning remained silent for only a few moments, before she heard steps and shouts in the tent’s vicinity, and she immediately shot up on the edge of the bed to peek through the crack in the flaps, waiting.
A loud screech followed the voices, reverberating through the skies as loud as a thunder. Before she could slip into her boots, Veya’s legs straightened and lead her outside in the opening, where a few others had gathered, either carefully standing behind poles and tents, either looking at the clouds in awe and disbelief.
“Zerys...”
The dragon’s name rung just like her own in her dream – eerie, uncontrollably needy and longing. The dark creature flapped its wings and fell from the sky with a loud thump; its claws dug into the earth as it canted its head, fastened tight by thick iron chains holding its mandible up and shut against its fangs. Small bow arrows were scattered over its back and sides like spikes, but barely enough to pierce through the first layer of scales. When it glanced up through the ripped skin around its temples, Veya met its gaze with an amalgam of forgiveness and joy mingling in her eyes.
Somewhere behind thick dark clouds, the first rays of sun were just dawning. Emric had been unable to close his eyes that night, but the newly birthed light breathed some life back into him. It was always awfully serene when most of the camp was still asleep, with the occasional rustling of feet coming from the area in the forest where Sophia’s men still patrolled. He had not seen Tai’s eagle, but he supposed it was somewhere close, taking in the view before its owner called it back to rest for the day.
Even then, the smoke had not faded into the clouds. Fire was still very much alive on the battlements, and visible from so far away. The battle was over, but the victor could not be spotted from such a long distance. Despite that, Emric thought he had an idea of who it was; Halsengard’s banners had not retreated North, and no dragon screeched in the sky as it had the night before. A sight to witness, but harrowing and vile. It was as though he, himself, had rooted for the Adains, even for a short moment before their doom.
The gloomy silence did not last for long. No sound of waves or creatures in the woods could cover that of a dragon. Warged into a raven, Emric would sense each and every movement that cut through the opaque clouds, and soon enough, a dark shape showed itself in the distance, brilliantly red in the morning light. The raven waited, calculated, not yet taking off from the branch so high in the sky, but as its contour became clear, drawing closer and closer to the roof of the woods, Emric fought to snap out of the small black case, blinked, flapped its wings.
Waited.
The change took over his mind like dark waves, drowning him, pulling him into strange depths. He was no longer flying then, but floating somewhere close to the ground, and by the time he managed to force his lids to open, it was already too late. His amber gaze scoured his quiet surroundings, shielded from the sight of those bustling in the opening at the unusual sound. He had been crouching on the ground, and yanking his feet from the dampened soil took much more of a fight than before, but he did manage to free himself and began sprinting over the bumps of the forest floor as fast as he could, heading for the glimmer of light that indicated the meadow where they had set up their tents.
*
‘Veya...’
Nothing but darkness took over that night, from the moment the Princess closed her eyes to those turns of the clock that might have passed until the sky shifted hues. She had not felt hunger, nor thirst, and she was thankful for such, as the painful lump in her throat had only returned in full force after Leon had left. A part of her had regretted her own longing for solitude, whilst the other cherished the night of peace after the nightmare of that previous evening.
‘Veya.’
It was still dark when she opened her eyes. The voice she had heard echo in her ears had vanished like a dream, and Veya found herself alone in the tent where she had dozed off in the night. The morning remained silent for only a few moments, before she heard steps and shouts in the tent’s vicinity, and she immediately shot up on the edge of the bed to peek through the crack in the flaps, waiting.
A loud screech followed the voices, reverberating through the skies as loud as a thunder. Before she could slip into her boots, Veya’s legs straightened and lead her outside in the opening, where a few others had gathered, either carefully standing behind poles and tents, either looking at the clouds in awe and disbelief.
“Zerys...”
The dragon’s name rung just like her own in her dream – eerie, uncontrollably needy and longing. The dark creature flapped its wings and fell from the sky with a loud thump; its claws dug into the earth as it canted its head, fastened tight by thick iron chains holding its mandible up and shut against its fangs. Small bow arrows were scattered over its back and sides like spikes, but barely enough to pierce through the first layer of scales. When it glanced up through the ripped skin around its temples, Veya met its gaze with an amalgam of forgiveness and joy mingling in her eyes.
zooka
Vampire Slayer
It was as Emric had guessed - Nathar hadn't sent any men after them during the night. To search for a lone girl and her knight--or whatever he was--in the dark was no easy task and they were only two people on foot, as far as he was concerned. He probably planned to send for them in the morning, fan out a large search party on horses. They might need to move by then, Sophia thought, as she spent a bit of time among the trees, keeping watch, just in case.
The dragon came upon them suddenly and Sophia gasped. She immediately ran back toward the camp, knowing on some level that it was friendly, but protective nonetheless. When she emerged through the treeline, she saw it. Veya was there and Sophia released a the breath she held all at once, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped. Even in this dire situation, she had the slightest smile. She'd never seen a dragon before. She was relieved to see it now, given the circumstances. Though, they weren't all happy.
"Someone could have followed," she said. She had a decision to make. Stay and defend or flee? There would be far too many coming to defend, she realize. Or, at least, that was the most likely scenario. She quickly scanned the horizon, as if she could see what was beyond, but in her mind, she was imagining a map.
Where was the most defensible if the enemy did catch up?
"We should head south by southeast, try to make it toward the coast line and move away from them along there. At least that way, we've only got to watch one side," she said. Leon had, of course, emerged from his tent at the commotion. He thought for sure someone was attacking, but it was just a dragon.
What a strange thought.
He agreed with Sophia, but he had one other concern. "We need to get Veya somewhere safe," he said. They couldn't just keep running. He went over to Veya, instead, approaching carefully. He didn't know if the dragon would be all that keen on having anyone around it except Veya, given what it had so obviously gone through. He did pull a small, folded leather pouch from his belt. He opened it to reveal a lockpick set.
"I can free it," he said, nodding toward the chains around it's mouth. They'd secured it with a pretty intense lock. He was asking Veya, and perhaps even the creature, for permission.
"We need to get you somewhere safe," he said next. "Do you have any allies that we can flee to?"
The dragon came upon them suddenly and Sophia gasped. She immediately ran back toward the camp, knowing on some level that it was friendly, but protective nonetheless. When she emerged through the treeline, she saw it. Veya was there and Sophia released a the breath she held all at once, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped. Even in this dire situation, she had the slightest smile. She'd never seen a dragon before. She was relieved to see it now, given the circumstances. Though, they weren't all happy.
"Someone could have followed," she said. She had a decision to make. Stay and defend or flee? There would be far too many coming to defend, she realize. Or, at least, that was the most likely scenario. She quickly scanned the horizon, as if she could see what was beyond, but in her mind, she was imagining a map.
Where was the most defensible if the enemy did catch up?
"We should head south by southeast, try to make it toward the coast line and move away from them along there. At least that way, we've only got to watch one side," she said. Leon had, of course, emerged from his tent at the commotion. He thought for sure someone was attacking, but it was just a dragon.
What a strange thought.
He agreed with Sophia, but he had one other concern. "We need to get Veya somewhere safe," he said. They couldn't just keep running. He went over to Veya, instead, approaching carefully. He didn't know if the dragon would be all that keen on having anyone around it except Veya, given what it had so obviously gone through. He did pull a small, folded leather pouch from his belt. He opened it to reveal a lockpick set.
"I can free it," he said, nodding toward the chains around it's mouth. They'd secured it with a pretty intense lock. He was asking Veya, and perhaps even the creature, for permission.
"We need to get you somewhere safe," he said next. "Do you have any allies that we can flee to?"
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
Fire scourged Veya’s insides like an endless storm, and as long as she had fought to keep her eyes dry, tears now stung and abundantly rolled down her heated cheeks. “Zerys,” the woman whispered again, her pale hand now running down the dragon’s temple, careful not to touch the fresh wounds. It murmured back, almost purring at her touch, and dared to close its lids for a brief moment while it felt the heat of her hand brushing its scales.
She knew what Zerys had seen that night, and could assume what it had done to earn the arrows and chains rendering it almost immovable. “Nathar would not have let them live,” she muttered after swallowing her sobs. Her gaze turned to Leon, then to Sophia standing stiff in his vicinity. “He still has Drakon. He has my parents.” Although a part of her doubted he would let King Orynn live, her stomach no longer sunk at the thought. She had gotten used to it through the mostly sleepless night, and had prepared herself for the worst.
When Leon drew closer to the creature, Zerys let out a muffled roar and shook its spiked mane. Its scales glistened in hues of green, blue and gold in the dim dawn light, the mesmerizing colours only tainted by streams of thick blood. Veya placed her hand on its head again, and thankfully, it kept it lowered enough for the man to reach him, yet Veya’s gaze followed Leon reluctantly as he attempted to touch the beast.
None had come quite as close to the dragons of House Adain, in the hundreds of years that they had ruled over the Kingdom of Edelmere. It was a frightening sight, on the very edge of tragedy, but Veya did not dare to look away, and so she urged Zerys to remain still. In the close distance, at the edge where the forest kissed the open meadow, Emric watched with glowing eyes beneath sweat dampened locks as the scene before him unfolded.
“Be gentle,” the Princess ordered, softly enough as to not agitate the dragon. It did not move, but she could feel the tension beneath her palm.
“Dragons are noble creatures,” Emric breathed out as he made his way closer to the center. A small crowd had formed around them, scattered and cautious, but still following the scene with peaked interest, ready to strike if need be. “This one was not alone, I believe. If Nathar had the gut to kill the others, I see a bad omen clouding his path.”
Veya’s gaze flickered to him, dark and troubled, but a hint of pleasure was still present. “He will pay for what he has done,” she said. “The people will not kneel before a man who slays a chained dragon. There is no glory or honour in slaying a mythical wonder.” Zerys was still young, not fully grown, brother to Vyrion just as she was sister to Eider. But Drakon, he could not have taken down as easily, not with a spear through its gut as it had taken Vyrion’s life.
Then she turned to Sophia and Leon, and shook her head at their suggestions. They could not stay there, so close to Nathar’s reach, especially after Zerys had traced their exact path through the woods. “The South offers no safety, but marshes and hills.” She pressed her lips for a moment, thinking, before raising her voice to reach just slightly over their heads. “We will travel North, to Eastfort. House Stryke has been loyal to us for hundreds of years. They will kneel to me.”
The grey smoke that had tinted the skies through the night had now faded, broken apart by brisk winter winds. It would be, however, long until Aramoor rose from the ashes and regained its golden glory. The battle had been long and bloody, stretching from dusk until before the very crack of dawn, but its fruit had come to surface before the new day.
House Adain had fallen, and so had their legend of old.
Nathar watched over the horizon like analyzing a book; from the high tower, he could see the woods stretching into the depths of Edelmere, dark and gloomy, but somewhere he knew still likely breathed the daughter of King Orynn Adain. The memory of it still rankled, twisting his gut and taking the polish off his only self-congratulatory moment of victory.
“She has inherited your fire,” the man spoke as she turned away from the window to face the dark chamber. Armoured guards bearing the banners of Halsengard stood tall by the doors, blocking any attempt hastened attempt from Queen Evolet. ‘Dowager Queen,’ he reminded himself, and relished in the slight hint of newly found power. After the countless visits to the Capital, it was for the first time that he felt its halls were truly purified.
He sighed, twirled halfway on his heels and started pacing around the long table with a painted nonchalance. In his hand, he gripped a goblet of wine which he had not even dared to touch; right then, blood on his hands, he wanted to be sober enough to enjoy every second. “I would not expect any less from your offspring... No, she might not be like your late husband... The King. Perhaps nor was her twin brother. Once united as one, inseparable.”
Lord Nathar did not smile. Grief darkened the air still. Eider had been brave enough to fight by his father’s side on his dragon; he had deserved a much more honourable death.
With a dry press of his lips, he set the goblet on the edge of the table and pushed it towards the woman, inviting her to take a sip, for her own good. “I am sorry,” the man spoke then. “I know how your heart must be aching to join them. Mine did as well after my own son. But you are still indispensable to me... Until your daughter comes back for you.”
She knew what Zerys had seen that night, and could assume what it had done to earn the arrows and chains rendering it almost immovable. “Nathar would not have let them live,” she muttered after swallowing her sobs. Her gaze turned to Leon, then to Sophia standing stiff in his vicinity. “He still has Drakon. He has my parents.” Although a part of her doubted he would let King Orynn live, her stomach no longer sunk at the thought. She had gotten used to it through the mostly sleepless night, and had prepared herself for the worst.
When Leon drew closer to the creature, Zerys let out a muffled roar and shook its spiked mane. Its scales glistened in hues of green, blue and gold in the dim dawn light, the mesmerizing colours only tainted by streams of thick blood. Veya placed her hand on its head again, and thankfully, it kept it lowered enough for the man to reach him, yet Veya’s gaze followed Leon reluctantly as he attempted to touch the beast.
None had come quite as close to the dragons of House Adain, in the hundreds of years that they had ruled over the Kingdom of Edelmere. It was a frightening sight, on the very edge of tragedy, but Veya did not dare to look away, and so she urged Zerys to remain still. In the close distance, at the edge where the forest kissed the open meadow, Emric watched with glowing eyes beneath sweat dampened locks as the scene before him unfolded.
“Be gentle,” the Princess ordered, softly enough as to not agitate the dragon. It did not move, but she could feel the tension beneath her palm.
“Dragons are noble creatures,” Emric breathed out as he made his way closer to the center. A small crowd had formed around them, scattered and cautious, but still following the scene with peaked interest, ready to strike if need be. “This one was not alone, I believe. If Nathar had the gut to kill the others, I see a bad omen clouding his path.”
Veya’s gaze flickered to him, dark and troubled, but a hint of pleasure was still present. “He will pay for what he has done,” she said. “The people will not kneel before a man who slays a chained dragon. There is no glory or honour in slaying a mythical wonder.” Zerys was still young, not fully grown, brother to Vyrion just as she was sister to Eider. But Drakon, he could not have taken down as easily, not with a spear through its gut as it had taken Vyrion’s life.
Then she turned to Sophia and Leon, and shook her head at their suggestions. They could not stay there, so close to Nathar’s reach, especially after Zerys had traced their exact path through the woods. “The South offers no safety, but marshes and hills.” She pressed her lips for a moment, thinking, before raising her voice to reach just slightly over their heads. “We will travel North, to Eastfort. House Stryke has been loyal to us for hundreds of years. They will kneel to me.”
*
The grey smoke that had tinted the skies through the night had now faded, broken apart by brisk winter winds. It would be, however, long until Aramoor rose from the ashes and regained its golden glory. The battle had been long and bloody, stretching from dusk until before the very crack of dawn, but its fruit had come to surface before the new day.
House Adain had fallen, and so had their legend of old.
Nathar watched over the horizon like analyzing a book; from the high tower, he could see the woods stretching into the depths of Edelmere, dark and gloomy, but somewhere he knew still likely breathed the daughter of King Orynn Adain. The memory of it still rankled, twisting his gut and taking the polish off his only self-congratulatory moment of victory.
“She has inherited your fire,” the man spoke as she turned away from the window to face the dark chamber. Armoured guards bearing the banners of Halsengard stood tall by the doors, blocking any attempt hastened attempt from Queen Evolet. ‘Dowager Queen,’ he reminded himself, and relished in the slight hint of newly found power. After the countless visits to the Capital, it was for the first time that he felt its halls were truly purified.
He sighed, twirled halfway on his heels and started pacing around the long table with a painted nonchalance. In his hand, he gripped a goblet of wine which he had not even dared to touch; right then, blood on his hands, he wanted to be sober enough to enjoy every second. “I would not expect any less from your offspring... No, she might not be like your late husband... The King. Perhaps nor was her twin brother. Once united as one, inseparable.”
Lord Nathar did not smile. Grief darkened the air still. Eider had been brave enough to fight by his father’s side on his dragon; he had deserved a much more honourable death.
With a dry press of his lips, he set the goblet on the edge of the table and pushed it towards the woman, inviting her to take a sip, for her own good. “I am sorry,” the man spoke then. “I know how your heart must be aching to join them. Mine did as well after my own son. But you are still indispensable to me... Until your daughter comes back for you.”
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zooka
Vampire Slayer
"I will," Leon assured the princess in the same, soft, soothing manner as she'd addressed him. His fingers were deft and careful as he worked to pick the lock. He was especially careful near the dragon's injured scales and exposed, far more sensitive flesh beneath that. It didn't take long, but it was rather nerve-wracking to be so close and intimate with the majestic creature. He hardly dared to breathe and simply concentrated on the lock. As soon as it opened, he slid it free of the chains and then cautiously lifted the chains up and off of the creature rather than having it slide and shake them free on its own. He tossed them aside and stepped back so that Veya could continue to have her moment with Zerys.
He realized at that point how hard his heart was beating in his chest, but he was happy for Veya. Zerys surviving was something to rejoice about.
Sophia, however, brought up a good point. They needed to move quickly. They had likely followed the dragon.
"House Stryke?" she echoed, simply for confirmation while she thought things through. "We can't cut straight north. They'll cut us off. We need to give it a wide berth and not let it be obvious where we are headed." She didn't want to turn this into a suicide mission, but she was certain that, if they chose the right path, they would be able to outsmart and outrun their enemies. She was thinking quickly, imagining the lay of the land in her mind, forming a plan for them, but also for the path they would leave behind as well as the one the dragon had, undoubtedly, left behind.
"Send word to the other camps. They need to try to draw off some of the men in pursuit." If the nearby camps flanked the search party sent out, they might be able to distract or pick off some of Nathar's men. "Tell them to keep their distance and stay safe." Tai nodded, moving to his tent to write some notes to be sent off with his eagle companion.
"We'll need to pack for the journey, but quickly. There are friendly villages between here and there to resupply, but we can't count on it." Some of the others in the camp she told to pack up and head to join the other camps, but she had made up her mind on their travelling party. Leon and Veya, of course. Tai and Emric were vital. They would be able to keep them safe as they travelled and as they rested. Tai had been training some of the others in other camps to send messages, so they wouldn't be leaving them completely high and dry.
"We'll pack light, we'll move quick, and we'll get you to House Stryke. Your Highness." If Nathar wanted Veya, well, Sophia was determined to make it extremely difficult for him, if not impossible. To do so, to work alongside her and protect her, however, she'd need to make sure there was a level of mutual respect. For Sophia, that meant properly addressing the princess when she could as a show of trust and belief in her and her cause, which stood in direct opposition of Nathar and, therefore, in direct alliance with Sophia's.
Queen Evolet had never expected sleep to find her that night. She had expected to be waiting in the tower, worried sick, until finally her husband and her son returned to declare their victory.
This... This was unimaginable. A nightmare brought on by exhaustion. She'd been having it since she watched her own son fall out of the sky. Parents should never have to watch their children pass, but she had Orynn, they had. And they had not even been granted a moment together, not a single second to mourn, before she watched him die, too. She felt numb.
She allowed it to wash over her like cold, pulsing waves. The one that had consumed her son and, hopefully, rescued her daughter. She let the sound of it drown out his words as much as possible. He was a vile, condescending man. She wished he'd had the decency to take his own life when his son passed, as he claimed he wished to, but Evolet kept such sentiments to herself. She was an intelligent woman and not in the habit of angering haughty men.
So, while inside, she wished to throw the goblet back in his face, she politely slid it back to him.
"No, thank you."
He realized at that point how hard his heart was beating in his chest, but he was happy for Veya. Zerys surviving was something to rejoice about.
Sophia, however, brought up a good point. They needed to move quickly. They had likely followed the dragon.
"House Stryke?" she echoed, simply for confirmation while she thought things through. "We can't cut straight north. They'll cut us off. We need to give it a wide berth and not let it be obvious where we are headed." She didn't want to turn this into a suicide mission, but she was certain that, if they chose the right path, they would be able to outsmart and outrun their enemies. She was thinking quickly, imagining the lay of the land in her mind, forming a plan for them, but also for the path they would leave behind as well as the one the dragon had, undoubtedly, left behind.
"Send word to the other camps. They need to try to draw off some of the men in pursuit." If the nearby camps flanked the search party sent out, they might be able to distract or pick off some of Nathar's men. "Tell them to keep their distance and stay safe." Tai nodded, moving to his tent to write some notes to be sent off with his eagle companion.
"We'll need to pack for the journey, but quickly. There are friendly villages between here and there to resupply, but we can't count on it." Some of the others in the camp she told to pack up and head to join the other camps, but she had made up her mind on their travelling party. Leon and Veya, of course. Tai and Emric were vital. They would be able to keep them safe as they travelled and as they rested. Tai had been training some of the others in other camps to send messages, so they wouldn't be leaving them completely high and dry.
"We'll pack light, we'll move quick, and we'll get you to House Stryke. Your Highness." If Nathar wanted Veya, well, Sophia was determined to make it extremely difficult for him, if not impossible. To do so, to work alongside her and protect her, however, she'd need to make sure there was a level of mutual respect. For Sophia, that meant properly addressing the princess when she could as a show of trust and belief in her and her cause, which stood in direct opposition of Nathar and, therefore, in direct alliance with Sophia's.
Queen Evolet had never expected sleep to find her that night. She had expected to be waiting in the tower, worried sick, until finally her husband and her son returned to declare their victory.
This... This was unimaginable. A nightmare brought on by exhaustion. She'd been having it since she watched her own son fall out of the sky. Parents should never have to watch their children pass, but she had Orynn, they had. And they had not even been granted a moment together, not a single second to mourn, before she watched him die, too. She felt numb.
She allowed it to wash over her like cold, pulsing waves. The one that had consumed her son and, hopefully, rescued her daughter. She let the sound of it drown out his words as much as possible. He was a vile, condescending man. She wished he'd had the decency to take his own life when his son passed, as he claimed he wished to, but Evolet kept such sentiments to herself. She was an intelligent woman and not in the habit of angering haughty men.
So, while inside, she wished to throw the goblet back in his face, she politely slid it back to him.
"No, thank you."
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
Veya could feel Zerys’s light tremor beneath her touch and the gentle lift of its head as it breathed. Her gaze remained locked on the movement of Leon’s hands in his attempt to remove the chains without causing the dragon more harm. Zerys’s tranquility was almost sinister, and Veya briefly wondered if it had witnessed Drakon’s end itself. It was still tense, aware that the danger had not yet passed, despite the significant distance between them and the walls of Aramoor.
More than anything, she wanted to place more yards behind them. Going back for her mother would make more harm than good; it was something she had struggled to convince herself about through the night. Queen Evolet was Nathar’s shield, both against the people of Edelmere who found no guilt in a woman who was not of Adain blood, and against her only daughter.
A sigh of relief left Veya’s lips when the clink of iron announced that the chains had been removed. Zerys parted its fangs to let out a weakened roar that barely blew a few dried leaves from before its nostrils. Veya nodded to Leon in a gesture of grattitude, although her expression remained stern, now resembling her mother even more than before through the sullen gaze. The Gods had blessed her with a moment of joy, but had never ceased constantly taking, and Veya knew she could not afford to let herself drown in a mindless hope.
If they had killed two other dragons, Zerys’s life was not a promise of safety.
Sophia‘s urgency dug more into Veya’s wounds, but she was determined to fight back whatever ache scourged and turned her insides to win a moment of sobriety from the pain. “Wandering for the sake of hiding our tracks would take too long,” she raised her gaze to look her in the eye. “We can sidestep, but the road to Eastfort is already ample and perilous.”
“Later is better than never,” Emric interrupted from Sophia’s side. A slight frown had formed above his eyes, either at the sight of the creature so close to him, or at Veya’s slight conceit. “We can ward Nathar’s men off, but we might not be able to fight them in an open field.” Not in a fair battle, at the very least. Sophia’s party had taken them by surprise the previous night, and even that had been a close call.
“We have a dragon,” Veya said, and a faint touch of elation vibrated in her voice. “They have swords and wooden bows.”
“A wounded dragon,” the other corrected. “One that can barely fly with the holes in its wings. Unless you plan on...”
“Your Highness,” Veya broke in. Her hand left Zerys’s temple and the beast shook its head in discontent. “You agreed to fight for me, which means you are on my side. If you wish to bless me with your resourceful judgement on mythical creatures, then you will address me as your Queen.” She made it clear there was no room for questions, and Emric took the blow with a composure he had not thought himself able to produce.
She turned her gaze to Leon, then to Sophia. “We will take a different route. One you deem safe, but not too long. We need to buy as much time as we can, and that will not happen if we spend our days exploring Southern villages. We leave today.”
*
Nathar was not surprised at Evolet’s lack of cooperation. A part of him genuinely ached for the woman, for his intent had been to rip the dragons from their roots, not those ill-fatedly implied in their wars. If the latter were the case, he would have had to condemn the entirety of Aramoor - now a city that had almost entirely kneeled to him. Soon, the rest would join the majority.
The Lord offered the woman a hospitable smile and reclaimed the goblet of wine for himself. “You should thank the Gods, my Lady... There is a chance that your daughter is not helpless. Unless my men bring her to me first, I reckon she will come back home like a wave.” Crashing down upon him with an army of insignificant numbers, if House Stryke deemed it worthy to oppose the force that he had accumulated to storm the Capital.
Aleksander Stryke was a man of honour. He had known his father, and his father before him. His sister’s unofficial betrothal to Eider, however, would mean nothing to him in the face of imminent death. But the boy was young, and young Lords were as unforseeable as they were thirsty for power.
“You will serve me a great purpose,” Nathar spoke softly, his gaze now on the horizon yet again. “You are not a dragon by blood. You are pure... Shattered, but a strong woman.” His eye flickered to hers, and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. “You will marry me, and bear me an heir. In exchange for your troubles, I will allow your daughter to live, after she renounces all claims to the Throne of Edelmere. You refuse... And your fate will be chosen as soon as the Princess comes stepping through the gates.”
More than anything, she wanted to place more yards behind them. Going back for her mother would make more harm than good; it was something she had struggled to convince herself about through the night. Queen Evolet was Nathar’s shield, both against the people of Edelmere who found no guilt in a woman who was not of Adain blood, and against her only daughter.
A sigh of relief left Veya’s lips when the clink of iron announced that the chains had been removed. Zerys parted its fangs to let out a weakened roar that barely blew a few dried leaves from before its nostrils. Veya nodded to Leon in a gesture of grattitude, although her expression remained stern, now resembling her mother even more than before through the sullen gaze. The Gods had blessed her with a moment of joy, but had never ceased constantly taking, and Veya knew she could not afford to let herself drown in a mindless hope.
If they had killed two other dragons, Zerys’s life was not a promise of safety.
Sophia‘s urgency dug more into Veya’s wounds, but she was determined to fight back whatever ache scourged and turned her insides to win a moment of sobriety from the pain. “Wandering for the sake of hiding our tracks would take too long,” she raised her gaze to look her in the eye. “We can sidestep, but the road to Eastfort is already ample and perilous.”
“Later is better than never,” Emric interrupted from Sophia’s side. A slight frown had formed above his eyes, either at the sight of the creature so close to him, or at Veya’s slight conceit. “We can ward Nathar’s men off, but we might not be able to fight them in an open field.” Not in a fair battle, at the very least. Sophia’s party had taken them by surprise the previous night, and even that had been a close call.
“We have a dragon,” Veya said, and a faint touch of elation vibrated in her voice. “They have swords and wooden bows.”
“A wounded dragon,” the other corrected. “One that can barely fly with the holes in its wings. Unless you plan on...”
“Your Highness,” Veya broke in. Her hand left Zerys’s temple and the beast shook its head in discontent. “You agreed to fight for me, which means you are on my side. If you wish to bless me with your resourceful judgement on mythical creatures, then you will address me as your Queen.” She made it clear there was no room for questions, and Emric took the blow with a composure he had not thought himself able to produce.
She turned her gaze to Leon, then to Sophia. “We will take a different route. One you deem safe, but not too long. We need to buy as much time as we can, and that will not happen if we spend our days exploring Southern villages. We leave today.”
*
Nathar was not surprised at Evolet’s lack of cooperation. A part of him genuinely ached for the woman, for his intent had been to rip the dragons from their roots, not those ill-fatedly implied in their wars. If the latter were the case, he would have had to condemn the entirety of Aramoor - now a city that had almost entirely kneeled to him. Soon, the rest would join the majority.
The Lord offered the woman a hospitable smile and reclaimed the goblet of wine for himself. “You should thank the Gods, my Lady... There is a chance that your daughter is not helpless. Unless my men bring her to me first, I reckon she will come back home like a wave.” Crashing down upon him with an army of insignificant numbers, if House Stryke deemed it worthy to oppose the force that he had accumulated to storm the Capital.
Aleksander Stryke was a man of honour. He had known his father, and his father before him. His sister’s unofficial betrothal to Eider, however, would mean nothing to him in the face of imminent death. But the boy was young, and young Lords were as unforseeable as they were thirsty for power.
“You will serve me a great purpose,” Nathar spoke softly, his gaze now on the horizon yet again. “You are not a dragon by blood. You are pure... Shattered, but a strong woman.” His eye flickered to hers, and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. “You will marry me, and bear me an heir. In exchange for your troubles, I will allow your daughter to live, after she renounces all claims to the Throne of Edelmere. You refuse... And your fate will be chosen as soon as the Princess comes stepping through the gates.”
zooka
Vampire Slayer
"Don't worry, Your Highness, we'll be going as quickly as you and your dragon can handle," Sophia informed her. She understood the woman's urgency and she also understood the woman's perspective. Having access to a dragon probably made her partial to the "as the crow flies" type of route, but that simply wasn't how it worked on the ground. They would be traveling as a small group in an attempt to stay hidden, so if they ran into any ambushes, they might have a difficult time, seeing as the dragon was wounded.
But it would require a rigorous pace and, quite honestly, the poor battered creature and distraught princess were far higher on the list of concerns when going that pace, at least above her valiant knight, Ty, Emric, and herself. As much as she liked to tease Emric, she knew he was a very capable traveller and warrior. His skills with a bow were quite unrivaled.
She gave the woman another bow of her head and then rushed off to pack her own bag as well as one for the woman. Ty was taking Leon to pack bags for them as well. Leon felt the sense of urgency as well, that familiar feeling of needing to grab the princess and run. It was almost as if he hadn't stopped running at all. He remembered the feeling the night before when he laid down, like something within his skull and his skill was still running even though he was laying perfectly still.
He was rather generously given a couple of changes of traveling clothes and some provisions, including a blanket and bedroll, from one of the other rebels in the camp. He thanked them and rejoined the others just as Sophia was emerging as well. She'd packed Veyas things into her own bag and had an extra bedroll. Leon offered to take it and Sophia accepted, mostly because she'd packed a few other things.
"I've packed some of salves I've made. I think we should try and move out soon, but perhaps the next time we stop to rest, you could soothe some of your dragon's wounds."
Evolet looked at Nathar, her delicate brows pinched together in genuine, but gentle confusion as she, apparently, worked through what he was saying to her.
"I'm sorry," she started, "but you think..." She seemed to run over his words again and, once she was certain of what he said, she went on. "You believe I would willingly curse my daughter to share blood with a sibling that... shared blood with you?" As if to further illustrate her point, she shook her head. "You are a murderer and a temporary upstart, at best." She did not say it in a particularly unkind manner. It was regal and factual as nearly everything that came from her lips.
"If I die, my daughter will forgive me for remaining loyal to our family." She was resigned to her death and she was at peace with it. "You may enjoy the moment, if you would like, before she rightfully takes the throne once more." It would be all he had in his pathetic life, soon to be cut much shorter. If he hadn't wanted more power, he could have had a powerful ally. The Adain's treated their allies well, after all. They were valuable to them in many ways and they were rewarded for their loyalty.
But Lord Nathar could never have enough. Now, he'd have it all for a fleeting moment before it was taken from him again, along with everything else.
But it would require a rigorous pace and, quite honestly, the poor battered creature and distraught princess were far higher on the list of concerns when going that pace, at least above her valiant knight, Ty, Emric, and herself. As much as she liked to tease Emric, she knew he was a very capable traveller and warrior. His skills with a bow were quite unrivaled.
She gave the woman another bow of her head and then rushed off to pack her own bag as well as one for the woman. Ty was taking Leon to pack bags for them as well. Leon felt the sense of urgency as well, that familiar feeling of needing to grab the princess and run. It was almost as if he hadn't stopped running at all. He remembered the feeling the night before when he laid down, like something within his skull and his skill was still running even though he was laying perfectly still.
He was rather generously given a couple of changes of traveling clothes and some provisions, including a blanket and bedroll, from one of the other rebels in the camp. He thanked them and rejoined the others just as Sophia was emerging as well. She'd packed Veyas things into her own bag and had an extra bedroll. Leon offered to take it and Sophia accepted, mostly because she'd packed a few other things.
"I've packed some of salves I've made. I think we should try and move out soon, but perhaps the next time we stop to rest, you could soothe some of your dragon's wounds."
Evolet looked at Nathar, her delicate brows pinched together in genuine, but gentle confusion as she, apparently, worked through what he was saying to her.
"I'm sorry," she started, "but you think..." She seemed to run over his words again and, once she was certain of what he said, she went on. "You believe I would willingly curse my daughter to share blood with a sibling that... shared blood with you?" As if to further illustrate her point, she shook her head. "You are a murderer and a temporary upstart, at best." She did not say it in a particularly unkind manner. It was regal and factual as nearly everything that came from her lips.
"If I die, my daughter will forgive me for remaining loyal to our family." She was resigned to her death and she was at peace with it. "You may enjoy the moment, if you would like, before she rightfully takes the throne once more." It would be all he had in his pathetic life, soon to be cut much shorter. If he hadn't wanted more power, he could have had a powerful ally. The Adain's treated their allies well, after all. They were valuable to them in many ways and they were rewarded for their loyalty.
But Lord Nathar could never have enough. Now, he'd have it all for a fleeting moment before it was taken from him again, along with everything else.
peritwinkle
♠️your local Raphael♠️
Riding atop Zerys was out of question, even for Veya. She had not done that before, unlike Eider and their father, but the dragon was wounded regardless, and she could not risk falling from the sky if its wings gave in or a stray spear came flying towards them. She was bound to follow Sophia and her crew of misfits through the Southern hills, at least for a while, and she would let Zerys find its own way through the clouds. That way, if Nathar’s men did find them, at least one dragon could have a chance of survival, and with a bit of luck, would make it to Eastfort on its own.
When Sophia rushed off to begin preparing for the abrupt departure, Veya felt a wave of relief wash over her muddled mind. She was, at the very least, content with the thought that the woman would fight for her own survival in case of an ambush, and by extension her own. The only man whom she knew was there for the sole purpose of protecting her was Leon, and even the boy had shown hints of reluctance. She had seen him wavering, and she could not blame him; not many found the courage to admit the evil of their own blood and fight for the better cause.
She had no reason to tarry about the camp before they set off. Something within her chest was still tight, tense, breathing a sense of urgency into her which she knew would not ease soon, perhaps not even after they placed several miles between them and any possible search party. She pressed her palm to the side of Zerys’s head and the creature let out an exhausted breath that shook Veya’s stray hairs, before she moved away to catch up to Sophia and Leon.
The camp was already buzzing with men and women floating from one side to the other in search for their belongings or to adjust the saddles on their horses for the longer ride. Sophia was quick to come out of her tent with a large bag, which she seemed to have filled to the brim with items for the two of them, a gesture which Veya received with a faint smile sketched in the corner of her lips. It was brief, before it returned to its stern state, and she looked over to Leon as though searching to decipher his own thoughts from a simple glance.
“Salves and ointments are of no use for a dragon,” Veya said to Sophia. “It will heal on its own... With time. The Gods have not sent Zerys to us only to take it away.” She doubted they could rest soon, not if they wished to lose their tracks before nightfall. Although she did not know how much damage they had done to Nathar’s army, she was certain he would sent plenty scattered in Aramoor’s vicinity to find her.
Her eyes turned slightly darker beneath her brows, and she fixated Sophia with a piercing gaze. “You have chosen to help me, and by extension condemned your men to your own fate if Nathar’s soldiers do catch up to us,” she spoke then, her tone more grave than before. “I want to trust you. Not because you saved my life, but because we have a common enemy. How could I know you will not throttle me in my sleep once we no longer share the same interest?”
Both she and Emric had been clear enough in their statement that they were fighting against the greater evil. But once Nathar fell, she had no reassurance of that loyalty remaining intact.
Evolet was as regal as ever in her time of silence. Even as she spoke, Nathar could not help but admire her drive and fire, which was, surprisingly, still burning within her after all that she had witnessed that morning. By the break of dawn, he would have thought her to be shattered, trembling and drowning in pain, but it seemed as though it was difficult to penetrate the scales of an Adain. Orynn had made sure to equip her with his own strength.
The Lord offered her a smile, although bitter and amused slightly at her queenly confusion. “I do not think you understand my threat.” He spoke plainly now, without any sort of circumspection. “You will marry, and I will let your daughter live. You refuse, and when she arrives, with or without an army, I will burn her to the ground just as I have the rest of your family.”
He knew he had the man to withstand an attack, and the numbers would only grow by the day. Soon, the other Southern Houses would join his cause, and with a droplet of luck, Veya Adain would remain secluded in the North, preparing for a war that will have already been lost, the day her brother and King Orynn gave Aramoor to him on a plate.
“I wonder if it is blind hope that makes you speak of your daughter as a victor,” he added. “I understand your pain. My heart still aches after all this time. Yours will, as well, and for quite long unless it is cut short by your own relentless imprudence.” His gaze flickered to one of the guards by the closed door, and he made a subtle gesture towards the woman. “You may rest. Decisions are made with a clear head and a full stomach.”
When Sophia rushed off to begin preparing for the abrupt departure, Veya felt a wave of relief wash over her muddled mind. She was, at the very least, content with the thought that the woman would fight for her own survival in case of an ambush, and by extension her own. The only man whom she knew was there for the sole purpose of protecting her was Leon, and even the boy had shown hints of reluctance. She had seen him wavering, and she could not blame him; not many found the courage to admit the evil of their own blood and fight for the better cause.
She had no reason to tarry about the camp before they set off. Something within her chest was still tight, tense, breathing a sense of urgency into her which she knew would not ease soon, perhaps not even after they placed several miles between them and any possible search party. She pressed her palm to the side of Zerys’s head and the creature let out an exhausted breath that shook Veya’s stray hairs, before she moved away to catch up to Sophia and Leon.
The camp was already buzzing with men and women floating from one side to the other in search for their belongings or to adjust the saddles on their horses for the longer ride. Sophia was quick to come out of her tent with a large bag, which she seemed to have filled to the brim with items for the two of them, a gesture which Veya received with a faint smile sketched in the corner of her lips. It was brief, before it returned to its stern state, and she looked over to Leon as though searching to decipher his own thoughts from a simple glance.
“Salves and ointments are of no use for a dragon,” Veya said to Sophia. “It will heal on its own... With time. The Gods have not sent Zerys to us only to take it away.” She doubted they could rest soon, not if they wished to lose their tracks before nightfall. Although she did not know how much damage they had done to Nathar’s army, she was certain he would sent plenty scattered in Aramoor’s vicinity to find her.
Her eyes turned slightly darker beneath her brows, and she fixated Sophia with a piercing gaze. “You have chosen to help me, and by extension condemned your men to your own fate if Nathar’s soldiers do catch up to us,” she spoke then, her tone more grave than before. “I want to trust you. Not because you saved my life, but because we have a common enemy. How could I know you will not throttle me in my sleep once we no longer share the same interest?”
Both she and Emric had been clear enough in their statement that they were fighting against the greater evil. But once Nathar fell, she had no reassurance of that loyalty remaining intact.
*
Evolet was as regal as ever in her time of silence. Even as she spoke, Nathar could not help but admire her drive and fire, which was, surprisingly, still burning within her after all that she had witnessed that morning. By the break of dawn, he would have thought her to be shattered, trembling and drowning in pain, but it seemed as though it was difficult to penetrate the scales of an Adain. Orynn had made sure to equip her with his own strength.
The Lord offered her a smile, although bitter and amused slightly at her queenly confusion. “I do not think you understand my threat.” He spoke plainly now, without any sort of circumspection. “You will marry, and I will let your daughter live. You refuse, and when she arrives, with or without an army, I will burn her to the ground just as I have the rest of your family.”
He knew he had the man to withstand an attack, and the numbers would only grow by the day. Soon, the other Southern Houses would join his cause, and with a droplet of luck, Veya Adain would remain secluded in the North, preparing for a war that will have already been lost, the day her brother and King Orynn gave Aramoor to him on a plate.
“I wonder if it is blind hope that makes you speak of your daughter as a victor,” he added. “I understand your pain. My heart still aches after all this time. Yours will, as well, and for quite long unless it is cut short by your own relentless imprudence.” His gaze flickered to one of the guards by the closed door, and he made a subtle gesture towards the woman. “You may rest. Decisions are made with a clear head and a full stomach.”
