Fantasy Heir’s Augury [Closed]

[peritwinkle]

Aiyda was getting ready to knock on Ethon’s door when she heard his voice echo from the other end of the hallway. Her ears perked up, and she turned to face him, cheeks still red from the brisk air her snow-covered coat still emanated, or perhaps something else entirely. “I thought you would sleep for longer,” she murmured, only then realising that it must have gotten quite late into the morning. They slept until close to noon when they were together.

With a soft sigh, Aiyda pranced towards him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She set her head near the crook of his neck and closed her eyes, pulling him tight to her. She had missed the scent of him, and the way he fit in her arms like he was made for them. “I have missed you,” she whispered. “I know you likely wanted nothing to do with me. I thought I didn’t, either, but I’ve missed you.”

His skin was soft and heated, pressed against her forehead. He brought a certain comfort into her heart which not even Conrad’s hold could ever mirror. And yet, with the two of them both she felt the same, a feeling that was slipping out of her grasp whenever she made an effort to decipher it.

She found the strength to pull away after a moment, now worrying that he had been unpleasantly surprised by her sudden display of affection. “Ride with me,” she offered, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Krull’s ready, yours can take a warm-up before tomorrow. Ride with me. Talk to me...” That was, truly, what she was after. She wanted to hear his voice, and for him to hear hers. She was still debating whether or not to pour her emotions out before him, for the fear of losing him again seemed to much to bear.

There was nobody in the servants’ hall that morning, all likely busy with the arrival of King Corban’s troops. Conrad would be meeting with their commander, and Mathys had been summoned by the maester to discuss possible findings in their old books. Aiyda could only assume she had the morning to herself then, or perhaps the entire day if Ethon was not needed somewhere else.

“Please?” she thought to add, canting her head endearingly. “I need a ride to... clear my head. Tomorrow’s going to be rough on all of us, and the day to follow.”

*

Ace was a sturdy man, well built from the toes up, and yet the cold of the North had still taken him by surprise. Two days in, and he could barely feel his toes despite the thick layes of fur stuffed in his oversized boots and cramped beneath his coat. The only thing that still warmed him was the occasional woman who passed by, acceptable for the standard he expected in the North, albeit too dressed up for his liking.

“My men are well trained for this,” the General lied with a smug look on his face. He knew all too well that the King had sent but his weakest to deal with this fictional enemy. “We will need more than just a bed to sleep in, though. I, for sure, will need to taste some of your ale, boy, I’ve heard the North carries some proper alcohol, I-“ He stooped himself, cleared his throat and rubbed his beard. “My Lord,” he corrected himself quickly. “We would all like to taste your Northern drinks... And women, if you get me.”

His hair was turning grey here and there, but he was still handsome regardless - jaw sharp enough to cut and eyes deep set and brooding. He had had luck with women in his youth, and that luck had not been lost with the passing of years. Perhaps the Northern women were more wild, harder to get, but he loved the chase, and Victor’s son had the face of a man who shared his passion for flesh.

“We’ve been told quite a bit about this... Wild Hunt of yours,” he said as he paced through the yard, eyes mindlessly analysing the narrow alleyways tracing through the city and the low-rise homes built around them. “Tell me, my Lord. What evidence do you have of its existence? And perhaps, if you will, a chat over a cup of mulled wine, that would do after this long road. There’s much I want to know if I am to spend a few months’ time here.”

 

[pointmango]

Ethon returned her hug easily, able to pull her close and hold her steady for as long as he pleased it seemed. “I missed you as well.” He smiled gently glad she could forgive their arguments. As she pulled back his brow cocked at her question. “Alright,’ He decided, needing to clear his own mind as well.

Ethon kept quiet mostly on their walk to the stables. The noise about White Hall was much more than usual due to the arrival of the new troops. Opening the wooden door to the stable, he moved into his own horse and he watched her approach Krull. In the safety of the stable he looked up to her, “I do not like the King’s men.” He commented quietly. “I think Lyram and Conrad fear our new friends will grow too comfortable in Conrad’s absence.” He said. “I don’t think they could ever be comfortable here in the North. They won’t listen to Conrad, not fully anyway. And spreading them to villages to quarter them.” Ethon shook his head, “I wish they wouldn’t freeze in those tents, the good inn owners don’t deserve what they are about to get. Besides they certainly don’t think the hunt is real.” Ethon pulled the reign around his horse mounting him steadily.

He kicked his horses sides lightly, knowing Aiyda would be close behind, normally one would help a lady onto her horse, but Aiyda could manage herself. “It’s been a while since I’ve rode just to ride.” He commented. “Somehow every year I forgot how peaceful the winter woods are.” He smiled lightly.

*

Conrad’s jaw grew tight as the older man called him boy. This man acted as if there was no threat in mind, and his friend, quite a deal younger than him, held the same stupid look upon his mug. “You will not be disappointed with our ale general.” He replied back simply. “I should hope you see it your men take to their posts first and then the drinks and women.” Conrad countered.

Conrad unclenched his jaw, remembering this man was in a strange new place. Also that this entire army thought whatever they were coming for was nothing but a myth. “Wouldn’t have expected you to be so interested in Northern women, I hear the southern girls are more… open.” He said. He didn’t doubt there were at least a few whores traveling along the way with them.

“As for the hunt, our evidence is lacking. But I have seen with my own eyes two ruins the hunt has left. We have trusted sources, and well, some of the North’s strongest and most honorable have perished in the wake of this monster. I trust you will take care of my home while I am gone.” Conrad added more seriously.

“As for wine, come. I shall introduce you to my brother. He should have some words for you, and he’ll have a different perspective on our home than I do.” He commented pushing out a smile as he led the General and his subordinate inside.

On the walk to Lyram’s working chambers, Conrad stopped a steward and requested he bring two pitchers of wine to their destination. Arriving at the chambers Conrad knocked on his brothers door. “Lyram, I’ve brought General Ace and Captain Ryger.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Aiyda followed Ethon outside with a silent reluctance. He was calm, too calm for her liking, and a part of her wondered if the rage he had pent up within himself was still there somewhere, simmering, waiting to burst if she dared speak a wrong word. Her heart ached and her feet felt light, as though she might flail at any moment, but the surprise of his happiness kept them pinned to the ground.

The walk to the stables felt long and peaceful, but Aiyda’s chest drummed each time he peeked back at her, wondering what his next words would be. Once they reached their horses, she was quick to mount Krull and settle herself in the saddle almost too carefully, taking her time to fit into the stirrups and twisting the reins around her wrist for a stability she knew was unnecessary for a mere walk.

Yet, it was not their past days that he brought up then. The King’s men. Aiyda scoffed slightly, brows furrowing and eyes lowering in thought. She had not paid much mind to them, but frankly, the thought that Southern strangers would be haunting the already scarce settlements of the North did not make her feel particularly safe. “The North is strong and steadfast,” Aiyda assured him as she lightly tapped Krull’s ribs to urge it to set off. “Our people won’t fall to their knees for them if provoked, they know how to defend their families.” At the very least, that was what she wanted to believe.

She knew that neither the soldiers nor the King cared for the myth of the Hunt. It had been clear from their councils, from the way the King had looked down upon them as if they were a mere charity case. They would fight, if required, but how could they fight something which they did not expect? Something that, in reality, they stood no chance against, as the old books of history warned?

Aiyda let out a soft sigh and pursed her lips for a moment before looking back at him. “Ethon...” He looked innocent, worried, scared. The last thing she wanted to do to him was to give him something else to brood about, yet...“I know we are still not on good terms, not entirely,” she began. “I see the way you look at me. I know what you’re thinking of me, what everything seems to be, but you’re only scratching the surface.”

Her heart twisted tighter and she could feel a lump ache in her throat. She closed her eyes against the brisk wind and blinked quickly to wash away any stinging. “You saved me from more than just the woods a month ago. You saved me from myself, from falling into this abyss of mourning and regret and... I felt useless. Why had I deserved to live? But you believing in me... It gave me a purpose. To fight the Hunt and avenge my family.”

Krulls’s stride was slow, a quiet ruffling against the dried leaves and icy snow. “I began to live, then,” she continued. “To feel something else than hatred, and a part of me - of old me - returned. I could feel her warmth in my heart, whenever I smiled, talked, laughed... Before my parents died I was so happy, so clueless. And I fell in love so easily, and did not care if my heart was broken just as easily. You... You are the first face I saw after everything. You are my symbol of strength. Conrad... is my symbol of courage, and hope.”

She looked at him once again, but the tears in her eyes were no longer contained this time. She shook her head and breathed in the polar air with a pained smile. “I wish you could look away from your own troubles for one moment and understand how torn I am. Why I act the way I act, why I can’t return what either of you give me. I don’t want to choose between you and Conrad, Ethon,” she frowned. “Because it would mean choosing between my present and my past... And I know I still hold on to both.”

*

That morning had not been kind to Lyram. Ethon’s words were still on his mind, and the wine he had ordered had not seemed to make them vanish, or at the very least soothe the worries that came with it. He wished he could imagine him in a golden coat, bearing the crown of Armath and standing before with his chin high, yet the image refused to form in his head. Taking upon the role of the King meant tangling up with the Kilgours and drinking their venom, all while forsaking his true purpose in the North. And if the Augury was real... How could a boy of Ethon’s size and age salvage the Kingdom from impending doom?

Conrad’s loud knock on his study door was enough to stir him from his brooding trance. Lyram stood up - albeit slowly, knees numb from lack of movement - and he greeted his visitors with the usual poise he painted over his stern features.

He did not need a formal introduction to know who the men by his brother’s side were. They greeted him first, and the young Lord of White Hall was quick to return it with a nod. He was grateful Elyana was not there to witness their faces, or rather, for them to catch sight of her. “It is good to see you’ve had a swift journey up North,” he called. “Though I would have initially suggested you made yourself comfortable and rested for the day... Please. I was just enjoying a goblet while working on some-“

“Yes, of course,” Ace smirked and lowered his head. “We came here to discuss, our duty is a priority after all,” he added before shooting a glance of acknowledgement to Conrad. He did not wait to be invited in a second time, and Lyram moved to the side, allowing the men to step inside and pull themselves a seat each by his desk brimming with parchment and journals.

“You’ve been informed on the issue of accommodation,” Lyram cocked a brow slightly as he paced towards them. “That unfortunately White Hall is not large enough to home all of your men. Of course, you are more than welcome to choose a room here yourselves, as the heads of your troops. It would be our honor to house you among our family.”

He spit out the offer like bile, but the General did not seem affected by the tone. He offered Lyram another smile as he came to sit down by his side and canted his head. “By the look on your face you want us here as little as we do,” he confronted him. “Tell me, Lord Lyram... What goes through a young Lord’s mind when he pays the blessed King’s troops to fight a fantasy monster?”

Lyram gritted his teeth and leaned back. His back muscles tensed and his fingers clenched around the armrest of his chair, but he displayed no touch of vexation for the General’s peasure. “That fantasy monster, Ser, has wiped out two of our largest settlements in the North over the span of a month. One at each full moon. Not to mention the group of skilled Hunters of Northcross...”

“Out of whom survived a girl. A child. Whose words you believe to be true and written in stone. Who could have just as easily seen a wildling attack ending in a bloody massacre.”

“Except there were no bodies,” he counteracted. “No trail of limbs anywhere, no ashes. Just death, and emptiness, and a couple of other elements which do not concern you just yet.”

 

[pointmango]

He too would like to believe that the Northern people would know how to defend themselves, whether it be against the hunt, or against these men who Ethon felt were not welcome. But he’d read about the quartering of soldiers, he’d heard stories in both the South and the North. There would be fights in pubs, in White Hall, and in brothels. Most fights over women, some of differing beliefs, but most over a miniscule detail pented up in resentment.

Part of him wondered if she was ever scared of things like that. Losing her home, or even simply of men. He turned to look at her, hard to believe she could be frightened of anything looking the way she did then. They way she sat upon Krull, back straight, as if ready to pull her bow at any moment. And yet he had seen her more afraid than she had ever been in her lifetime after the Wild Hunt attacked her family of hunters.

Her sigh of his name interrupted his thoughts and spewed a whole other span of feelings. Was she trying to tell him he didn’t really know her? Or that there was so much more to her than he would ever know? He had given her a purpose, but what did that mean? He helped her to be strong, but Conrad…

His lightened mood had been crushed into the harsh reality of the feelings he had been trying to push away the past few days. Why could she not leave it for one day? How could one woman evoke such anger within him? He knew on some nights when he did not visit her, Conrad would. He could only imagine what had gone on in the room while Conrad was there. A man who always tried to leave his mark on a woman one way or another. Ethon was sure Conrad only saw Aiyda as a prize to be won. To Conrad, Ethon thought, Aiyda was merely a fun new challenge, and Ethon’s involvement in the matter only made things more exciting.

Ethon’s hands tightened around the reign of his horse, he did not wish to discuss this matter with Aiyda at this moment. He truly just wished he felt no way towards her, that he only thought of her as the Huntress from Northcross who wept at her parents death and that was that. “You will have to choose.” He spoke carefully. “Eventually. Don’t choose for your past or present. Choose for your future. You know the options.” His tone sounded harsher than he intended, but he was fed up with her wallowing in her sorrows of choosing between the two of them. He could support her grief, he could hold her as she wept about her parents, about her home. He could be proud of how far she has come, how she handles Mathys and her diplomacy. But he could no longer tolerate this indecision, at the very least her constant mention of it.

Pulling the left side of the reign with a slight kick to the ribs, Ethon turned his horse around. “We should head back to the stables. Shouldn’t tire ‘em out before a long journey.” He said blankly, his eyes not meeting her.

*

Conrad noted his brothers distaste for the men, and felt a new sense of fondness and coherence towards his brother. At least he too could sense what a jackass this General Ace was. He felt for his brother, as in his absence these men would fall directly under Lyram’s word instead of his own, and with a new wife, and being the new Lord of the North, this had to weigh down on his brother.

Anger flared in Conrad’s chest at Ace’s distrust. “We would not request an entire army north over some fantasy.” Conrad spoke sternly.

Ryger sat back, unimpressed, a few years younger than Ace, shorter too, but wider. His face held a deep scar running from his temple to the opposite base of his cheek. “Children are easily fooled by a pretty face and buckets of blood.” He told the group. “What is Lord Victor’s say on the matter?” The man asked.

“My father trusts Lyram’s judgement, as he is the Lord of White Hall now.” Conrad’s fists clenched. “Besides, my father did not believe until we had some more proof. When we returned with our own stories of the massacre, and soon after word on the settlements further north, he believed. And he found it imperative we seek help from our King.”

Ryger simply nodded at Conrad’s remark. Still looking unimpressed by the matter at hand. “We do as our King commands.” He nodded. If he could recall, King Corban said something to him and Ace about ‘entertaining the fools in the North’. “My apologies, My Lord, you must forgive me, as I am a man of sight. Seeing what I have seen, for me the gods do not decide, and so I have trouble with this assignment. But we are here for you.” Ryger’s disposition changed, he did not want their time here to be unpleasant. He would entertain the Lords, for now. “We have brought some of our finest wine, and I hear the ale here is like no other. Perhaps a simple evening, breaking bread with you and your father, and whomever else you will have joined for dinner?” Ryger asked. “No talk of strategy, this Wild Hunt or numbers. Tonight stories of the North and yourselves will suffice.” Ryger suggested.

Conrad did not like the idea of sharing a dining table with these men pretending to be friends. He knew Ace’s arrogance would upset his father, and the Generals eyes would wander to Aiyda or Elyana, or perhaps both. They would judge Ethon’s seat at the table. Conrad’s eyes glanced to his brother, as if willing him to say no.

 

[peritwinkle]

There was nothing but pain and regret left in Aiyda’s heart following Ethon’s apparent indifference. She felt her jaw tense and her fingers wrap so tightly around the reins that her knuckles paled to a sickly white. “No,” she called back to him, the lump in her throat only growing harder to bear and swallow through. “No, I won’t let you walk away like that this time. You can’t always walk away from what inconveniences you.”

Her words were harsh but she kept herself steadfast and poised. It was becoming more and more difficult to hold her tears in a smother her feelings, but she knew herself strong enough to speak without childish flailing and faltering. She lightly kicked Krull’s sides and the horse trotted over before Ethon’s stallion, propping itself so that its width blocked the narrow pathway they had treaded from the castle.

“Ethon, I am not the pure, innocent damsel in distress of your fairytale,” she said promptly. “I was happy before I came here. I can’t remember the last time I cried before... everything happened. And now, all I think about, all that dictates my actions is the thought that whatever I do, I am hurting one of you. I am asking you, do not make me the villain of this story. You are the one making my feelings seem so superficial.”

She gulped and felt her heart sink and her hips lose strength in holding her up straight atop the saddle. Aiyda closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head in the hopes of clearing her mind, before opening them again and fixating him with a dark gaze. “You are not just options to me. I never came to ask for your help hoping you would give me any sort of affection. You gave me love when I never asked for it. And now I feel responsible for it. Which is why I am not going to make a choice.”

The woods were growing colder, or perhaps her own feelings were draining the blood from her veins to her feet. The huntress knew he could see it, but the expression etched on his face, his abrupt, frozen movements made her doubt whether he truly cared.

“Leave, then,” she sighed eventually and stretched her arm out to gesture towards the castle, albeit her voice broke slightly despite her determination. She swallowed again. “If all you care about is the resolution, then don’t waste your time with me now. I’m sure there’s plenty of other options for the heir of Armath.” Bitter, but true, Aiyda tried her best to remain calm as she spoke to him. He no longer resembled the stableboy she had met that wretched day, and although a part of her heart still beat for him, the memory of his selfless affection felt too distant to cling to in that moment.

*

Lyram was well aware that there was no twisting the half-empty minds of the two soldiers, and yet the frustration within him only grew at the realisation of it. The doom was near, and all they had defending them were lanky squires who underestimated their enemy too much to care for proper training and preparations before the fight. Aside from their own Northern army he had called upon in the letters he and his father had signed, the South could just as easily be absent from the equation.

At Ryger’s suggestion, it took the young Lord of White Hall all the strength he could muster to keep his face stern and prevent an aggravated scoff. He could already see him throw glances towards his Elyana, and even the though of his filthy gaze on his wife made his blood boil, let alone the attempt at a potential conversation between the two. A part of him knew Conrad shared his sentiment - his younger brother was irrationally attached to the Saeberian huntress and without question the General and Commander would try to make conversation out of her tragic experience.

“My brother, Conrad, will be leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow on a mission to Eldstead,” he stated in a breath. “It would be best if he rested properly before his trip. With all my regret, I have to refuse your offer this time, but you and your most trusted men are more than welcome to enjoy dinner in the Great Hall tonight with our people of our own. We will have to... grace you with our presence another day.”

Eventually, he rose from his chair, in the hopes that his gesture would let the two Southerners know they were no longer welcome within his study quarter. He threw a suggestive glance towards the stack of letters and parchment on his desk and then looked back at them, offering them a half smile. “Until you are assigned to your posts I suggest you make yourselves comfortable within White Hall. Get to know the locals. Most have plenty of stories to tell, which I’m sure will change your perspective on our stance here.”

 

[pointmango]

Ethon’s head jerked at her refusal. She wasn’t making this trip any easier for him. And if they were to end this conversation with her stubbornness, their journey tomorrow would feel like an eternity instead of a few days. His nostrils flared at her words, how could she view all of this the way she did? She said she was not tragic, but right now he felt she was.

He sucked his breath in for a moment, feeling the lump within his throat tighten and then release, he had so much to say, so much he wanted to just yell at her. Nothing came, not a word. Her words filled his head, and he just wished it would split open so he could fall to the cool ground in the snow, and perhaps have a moment of peace. A moment without thinking about her or her safety, about how she thought of him. About how he wanted it to hold her again like he did those first weeks, but he had no idea what to say to her to make any of this right again.

He looked past her towards the castle, did he leave? Should he? Should he just screw it all, they were going to die anyway. He finally released the breath he was holding within his chest and his eyes moved back to look at her, his expression grim. “I do not know what you want from me anymore.” He spoke out to her finally. “You do hurt me. When I see you with him, the way you look at him.” His brows kept furrowed, he had to think of a better way to explain this to her. He didn’t think he had a way to articulate to her his feelings, truthfully he wasn’t entirely sure of his feelings.

“I want to hold you, and to love you. Talk to you the way we used to.” The frustration at himself came out through his tone, he took another breath in, his gut sinking, attempting to compose himself for her. “I don’t know what I want after… all of this.” He gestured around him. “I don’t know what will happen, in fact I dread having to choose one day. The only thing I am sure of is you.” He explained, “The one person I am sure of could not be more at a loss towards me.” His hands lifted his reigns, moving his horse beside hers, so he could look at her more easily, “It hurts.”

*

The men had nodded to Conrad and stood up. Conrad acquainted them with a steward outside of Lyram’s door, and he would help the men find suitable rooms. Conrad stood stiffly outside the door, watching the men venture down the hall. Once they rounded the corner Conrad stepped back into Lyram’s study and shut the door behind himself. “Fucking pricks.” He muttered.

His eyes lifted to his brother and Conrad strode into the chair across from his brother's desk. “Don’t give them an inch while I am away brother.” Conrad spoke to him. “They’ll walk all over. Hell, how they were speaking to you? They already- and that General Ace, called me a boy.” His fist clenched. “I swear on it brother, when I get back, I’ll whip those troops right into shape.”

He did not trust either. Ace’s distrust in them was a bit more obvious, but Ryger’s attempt seemed false as well. Conrad would have to watch out for the pair of them it seemed. “We give Corban our brother and in return he sends up those buffoons,” Conrad huffed, “I want Hector out of that place brother. Every one of them southerners, pompous, arrogant and rude.”

*

After their rooms had been shown to them, Ryger thanked the Steward and asked for a handmaid to be sent to re-make his bed. He was going to see if these Northern women were as wild as he had heard about. In the meantime he interrupted Ace in his own room to discuss their meeting with the little Lords. “I wonder what business Victor has putting his sons in the forefront so soon?” He commented.

Ryger sat in a chair in the corner of Ace’s room, his feet propped on a side table as he used a knife to clean the dirt from his fingernails. He picked a particularly dark spot in the nail of his thumb, “They are formal and polite,” he chuckled. They were young enough Ryger thought with some good natured trust they might be malleable. Perhaps their men would have a decent time in the North, especially if this myth was exactly what they all thought, a myth. For Ryger, they would drink ale, fuck women, and gather free rations for a year or two, tlugh out the cold, and then head back home.

“I think you can easily break the younger one.” Ryger commented to Ace. “Boy seems easily swayed. I reckon he’s somewhat like you were those years ago, Ace.” Ryger switched his knife to his forefinger now, running the blade over the inner tip of his nail, “The other has a stick right up his rear, he’ll take some work. But I have ideas. If it fails, should be fun to piss off at least.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Aiyda took in a deep breath, counting her rising heartbeats as he got closer. She could feel her blood boil – not in anger, but in fear and utter frustration, in a pain she did not yet understand. His eyes were of a pale gold against the pristine snow surrounding them; he looked wide, and strong, and so much more like a King than the first time he had told her. Even his voice hinted at nobility, while hers remained cowed and weak, no longer belonging to the fearless Saeberian huntress she would have like to be.

“Perhaps I am confusing pain for love,” she whispered softly. “Think what you will of me, Ethon, but I do love you.” That she still had feelings for Conrad all the same, she could not say, but her heart ached for the man who had been there for her to rescue her, for the pair of eyes that had watched her so restlessly, for the hands that held her even when she thought she could carry it all on her shoulders.

She missed her mother. She, at the very least, would have known what to tell her, and perhaps even her father would have felt for her sorrow. Even more, she wished Mathys would understand, when neither Ethon nor Conrad wished to.

Krull whined at the prolonged stop and Aiyda pulled at his reins, leading the pair of them out of the copse of trees before Ethon could throw another scourging glare at her. He hated her, didn’t he? The question rung in her ears so loudly she could almost hear him say it. Her heart beat as quickly as her stallion’s gallops, and with that sound the silence of the morning grew unbearably louder once she was alone once again.

*​

Despite the fire already burning in each hearth within the castle, the brisk air of dawn still managed to seep through beneath doors and cracks in the old stones. Mathys watched her from across the hallway, a thick blanket over his shoulders, fidgeting with his fingers beneath it in a strange tableau so much unlike his person. His eyes were glazed over, which could only mean that he had spent the night searching for answers in his dreams, in the fire, anything that would aid them on their journey.

“You haven’t spoken a word,” the boy called her out, pursing his lips in a slight disapproval. “Lehna asked about you. She said you kept the lock on your door shut the whole night.”

Aiyda did not try to justify her silence. She nodded as she struggled to tie the quiver to her belt, although her shivering did not help her attempt. “I had all I needed for the trip. I got Krull ready yesterday morning, and my bow-“

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Mathys frowned in disapproval. “You have a purpose, Aiyda. You are a Saeberian, not a trembling damsel. Father taught us better than this. This place has changed you.”

She breathed in and closed her eyes for a moment; Mathys was right, but she could not cement his observation then, not when she was trying to convince herself to return to her own poise. In truth, she barely recognized herself anymore, but her mental discussion with herself throughout the dead of night was still vivid at the front of her memory and she did not intend to let its fire wear off by the time she was forced to interact with either Conrad or Ethon.

Once she deemed herself ready to go, she followed her younger brother through the corridor and into the wide opening of the front yard, where Monty and Brask awaited them with each of their horses prepared and lined up for their taking. As the castle doors closed behind them, Aiyda turned to Mathys as if to avoid the other two and felt her jaw and neck muscles tense. Behind her, Lyram kept his coat tied tight around his shoulders and his gaze stern, almost uncomfortably fixated on the two siblings.

“I want you to promise that no matter what happens, no matter what we encounter-“

“That I will save myself first?” Mathys smiled softly. “You know I will always watch over you. You might be older but all you can wield is a bow.”

“Which at this point is more important than my life, frankly,” she chuckled and shook her head. “We will protect eachother. But you are a seer, Mathys. If any of us is disposable... That’s me, not you.”

 

[pointmango]

Conrad got to his feet. His legs felt stiff that morning and outside his window a small volume of snowflakes turned the torches lit on the towers outside to an orange glow. He stretched his shoulders back and leaned his neck forward, letting his nose breath in deeply as he closed his eyes. He pulled his boots on, and his coat, finally pulling a scarf over his neck and pulling up his hood.

The snow was falling less and less as he approached the group already awaiting him outside. Lyram was there to see them off, Brask and Monty had their horses and it seemed Aiyda and Mathys was ready to mount their horses. “Where’s Ethon?” Conrad asked approaching the group. As if on cue, the gates opened again, this time Ethon moving towards the group. He did not say much, tending directly to his horse as he mounted him.

Conrad turned to Lyram now, “We’ll make our journey as quick as we can brother. Anything urgent we’ll get word to you. Keep our home safe.” Conrad pushed forth a smile for his brother as he shook his hand and then patted his shoulder. Conrad was worried about their southern guard taking advantage of Lyram in such a chaotic climate. Lyram was busy, he was a new Lord learning the ropes, tending to a wife, and now he had to take up Conrad’s duties while he was away.

The morning had dawned clear and cold, the crisp air marked the complete end of the summer. They had set forth as soon as the group bid goodbye to Lyram. Conrad led the group, Brask close by his side while Monty held up the rear. By mid-afternoon Ethon kicked his horses sides slightly to catch up towards Aiyda. He had said he would ride beside her.

Any trace of White Hall was hidden now behind the trees and white hills, and the breath of men and horses mingled, causing steam within the air. A faint wind blew through as they continued on, Brask and Conrad seemed to be chatting up a head, and Ethon could only assume it was about where they would stay for the night.

“At the rate things have gone, I thought Conrad would be asking Mathys where to stay for the night,” Ethon said moving his horse beside her. He was trying to lighten their tension, but yesterday did little to ease any of that. She was stubborn, and he tried to explain his feelings to her, but it did little to change her decision. Or rather lack of decision.

Up a head Conrad stopped his horse at a riverbank and dismounted his horse. Beside him Brask still mounted as their horses drank. As the rest of the group caught up to where Conrad stood he regarded them all with a nod. “There is a village ahead, I’m sure three rooms will do for us. I assume any inn can suffice such. We should discuss however, what exactly we are searching for, and whom…” Conrad said looking to both Mathys and Aiyda now. “We will need a plan, one not to raise suspicion, but also so we can easily find what we are seeking.” He commented.

Ethon spoke up now, “What if we cannot-” he began, his mind reeling. Finding anyone who believed in the Hunt had been hard enough in the villages just outside white hall. Expecting weapons and more tales gave Ethon even less hope.

Conrad shook his head, “We will treat this journey as if all is sound.” Conrad knew Ethon was preparing for the worst, but Conrad could not prepare for the worst in this case. Here he had to hope for the best. “Now, we should arrive at this next village just after nightfall.”

 

[peritwinkle]

It took a while for Aiyda to get accustomed to the silence of the woods again. The plains of Northern Armath were wide, endless and unforgiving, but with a bit of luck, their horses would take them to where they had to be by the end of the week on the road. She knew there was little hope for rest, not when they had to take as much advantage of the darkness of night so as to avoid any assailants given their narrow number. Her father had blessed both his children with good ears, but frozen as she was, and with the constant murmur of Conrad and Brask in her ear, she doubted she would be of much use in the case of an unexpected ambush.

Morning turned into noon by the time Ethon decided to break the tension – in his own way. Aiyda gritted her teeth and made an effort to keep her face stern and still, but she felt her heart twist at the mere sound of his words and the previous day’s talk coming back to memory. She wished she could simply tell him to turn around and leave her, to do anything else and be with anyone else besides her. And yet, she could not.

“If you were to ask Mathys, he would have suggested not halting at all,” she said monotonously. “And I do have to agree with him. I don’t like the thought of leaving White Hall for so long, especially not with the King’s men around my homeland.” But it was a necessary evil which the two of them had suggested, after all. It was the only lead they could take, their only hope before the next attack.

As they stopped, Aiyda felt her muscles tense, looking around cautiously. Mathys shot her a glance, too cold for the likes of him, but she understood. Stepping into a settlement as they were... There were great chances that the villagers would recognize Conrad from their travels North and from his clean speech, if he kept his mouth open for too long.

“There is no point in scouring any other village but Eldstead,” Mathys replied to the young Sterling. “The man we’re looking for is was too old to have left the place. I doubt he even lives, frankly.” He let out a languished breath and shook his head. “We would only be attracting unwanted attention. If you wish to rest there, so be it, but we need to make our stay brief.”

“I agree with my brother,” Aiyda chimed in. “We rest, and then we ride before the crack of dawn. Perhaps one of you is skilled enough to spark an innocent conversation with any of the villagers at the inn we’ll be staying at... Get some insight if possible. But the deeper we delve into what truly interests us...”

Mathys nodded and kicked the sides of his horse, beginning to lead it away back on the path heading South. He slipped one hand into the pocket of his luggage and pulled out a piece of dry ham to munch on, gesture which reminded Aiyda that her stomach had been growling in famine for quite some time now. “I want to eat, and I want to rest,” she said as she followed her brother, her tone cold enough for both Ethon and Conrad to understand its meaning. “I haven’t had much sleep last night, and I doubt my brother has, either, by the look of him.”

 

[pointmango]

Conrad glanced to the Seaberian children, then to Brask a moment. Brask shrugged slightly, "Not a poor idea my Lord," Brask said to him. "Rest tonight, carry on as much as we can through the next night. Perhaps it will buy us more time in Eldstead." The guard positioned. Conrad didn't think they needed more time, what they needed was a plan to defeat the hunt. This old man better be alive, and he better have some answers. He trust Mathys, but even a boy who was a Seer did not know all. He only saw what the gods chose to show him he assumed.

Conrad mounted his horse again, and followed in suit, frowning at Aiyda's tone and in the direction Mathys was now leading in. Brask watched Conrad's face, and he leaned into the Lord slightly, "You give them too much room, my Lord." He said to him with a raised brow and Brask kicked his horse forwards following the Saeberian siblings as well.

Conrad was left to ride beside Ethon, the pair of them had not spoken as they used to in quite some time. "You still at war with her?" Conrad asked Ethon.

Ethon rolled his eyes, "If it were a war, I'd say it between us. At a stalemate due to a middle ground obstacle." Ethon correct him.

Conrad relaxed his shoulders as they rode on, grateful for Ethon's ease in the matter. Tension had risen between the boys since Aiyda's arrival. An unspoken competition lay between them constantly. "I'm surprised you haven't given up." Conrad commented.

"Me?" Ethon asked with a laugh, "You are the one who grows bored easily, I would have thought you' given up by now."

"She is certainly not boring." Conrad's eyes gazed forward towards the girl. Frustrating, stubborn, beautiful, spontaneous, but certainly not boring.

"No. She is not." Ethon agreed.

By the time they had reached an inn it had been dark for at least an hour. Brask was the one who asked the owner for rooms, the group settling into a booth in the back of the inn and Brask bringing over pints with the owner who assured them food would be out in a moment.

A woman, whom they could only assume was the owners wife quickly came out with bread half stale and a mixture of meat, porridge and some type of grain that was difficult to distinguish. She left and Brask's eyes trailed her rear for a moment before he turned back to everyone, "Eat up." He said. And then Brask's hand came to pull Conrad's hood over his head more, "Keep that on," He spoke, this time careful not to use the words 'my Lord' this time.

"Monty will wake us all before dawn. We should start riding in the dark. We follow the road, our next rest won't be until the night after the next." Conrad said, his words hushed.

Ethon ate sparingly at his slop, needing more ale to wash the food down as he gulped again. There were people around the inn, seeming to second as a local pub in the small village. The northern accent was thick here, Ethon wondered if Conrad knew the name of the small place, for he did not. The people around them jovial and spiritedly, some singing along to songs as three men played music. Other dancing about, clinking their cups of ale together.

A faster pace song came to be, and more pairs of men and women were going to dance. Those without a partner refilled their pints and lifted their mugs to the air. "Come on," Brask said looking to Aiyda. "It is suspicious is we all sit here doing nothing." He said, "One dance, then off to bed." The older man said holding his hand out to the girl. Brask then looked at Monty, "Get us another round of ale before the songs over." He said and Monty stood to gather more drinks.

 

[peritwinkle]

Aiyda could tell when her consideration was being questioned, especially after the numerous times she had had to travel with Conrad’s men. The young Sterling lord rarely doubted her; whether that was due to this almost irrational attraction to her or true belief in her words, she did not know. His guard, however, often fought to sway his mind, and despite her silence, in those moments she wished to remind him that she and Mathys were, in fact, the only ones worth listening to.

She rode ahead with her brother until evening. It was growing colder, in spite of their direction, ever riding South, and her coat was barely tight enough to keep every corner and crevice shielded from the unforgiving wind. Even her stallion seemed to be slowed down by the cold, rusty and feeble in a place when he would have stayed strong, had the exhaustion of the long day not gotten to him first. By her side, she could tell Mathys was trembling as well and struggling to hide his chattering teeth beneath his hood. The boy was strong - he would never admit to feeling pain, not when he knew others shared the same fate - yet Aiyda could not help but feel sorry for dragging him back into battle after just having escaped hell himself.

He had always been the stronger one. That, she could not deny, even when she liked to hide it by playing father’s favourite and speaking of her place as the head of the hunt once their father was no longer. The pang of memory hit her, and it hit hard, twisting her heart and making her stomach sink. His legacy had passed on to her, yet when there was no hunt left to serve.

Bright, warm fire in the pitch darkness let them know that their suffering had come to an end for the night. Aiyda did not say a thing, but she was grateful for getting to spend the night somewhere warm and setting off in the morning with a fresh mind and less sore thighs.

The inn was tight but cozy, two fireplaces keeping the large common room warm; the latter connected to the kitchens through a wide archway that allowed the very few tavern workers to present themselves to any visitor who might be in need of more ale, or respond to any call for refreshments from the other room. Aiyda was quick to remove her coat, keeping it draped over her arm and she followed Brask and the rest to the empty booth conveniently waiting for the lot of them, shielded from the eyes of those enjoying their dinner on the other side of the inn.

“I haven’t eaten properly since this morning,” Mathys sighed as a woman came to bring them food. It was underwhelming, it was true, but he could not deny it considering the raging growls in his gut. “Porridge... Much better than dry jerky. Though I wonder if these people here know what true venison tastes like.”

“Mmm,” Aiyda said with a mouthful of oats, poking at the meat with her fork. “Nobody makes one better than mother.” Made. Her gut twisted again and she closed her eyes for a moment, before digging into her food again, with slightly less pathos this time around. Her eyes shot to Conrad then, who was forced to keep his hood high and his head down in his cup of ale. “We’re in a booth,” she said softly, “Don’t think anyone will come barging in here looking over to you.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Mathys commented.

A lively song came on, one which made Aiyda wonder if Brask had also given the bards a tip for keeping the place loud and safe, although she did not have the time to poke a joke at it before the old man’s hand opened in front of her and he invited her to dance. She gulped down the porridge and meat in her mouth and frowned slightly at the gesture. He was right, but why did she have to be the subject of his theatrics? She stood up from the table, brushed away the wet crumbles from her lap and took his hand, following him right outside the booth in the rhythm of the music.

Behind her, Mathys leaned back and watched with a concoction of amusement and concern etched on his features. “She’s a good dancer even in this state,” he sighed softly and shook his head. “Feels strange. To celebrate, or pretend to celebrate. It even feels strange to smile if you remember what it is that brought us here, hm? And that the two of you are both here because if you had stayed home, you-“

He stopped himself before he said too much, his neck muscles tensing. It was true that they were both there for her, or that was at least part of the reason. Mathys envied them, not for their battle but for clinging to the hope that one of them would win her heart after the war. That they would survive it, and all would be well. He did not think that much; he would fight, but he was young, weak and feeble. His last kiss would not be with a woman, but with the cold, freezing blade of the enemy.


As they danced, Aiyda felt like she was growing more tired by the second. It was not in her nature to mellow down, but the day had worn her off like a rag, and even if Brask’s movements were rather slow, she felt like she could barely catch up with him in her twirls and prancing.

“I know you’re not fond of us,” she said as she came closer to him, keeping both hands on his shoulders. Her gaze drifted away to the other pairs dancing away to the music. “But if one of us is to make a choice, it’s either myself or my brother,” she continued before slipping away from him into a twirl. She slid back into his arms, breathless, but regaining her pace rather quickly. “We were both first hand witnesses... Our purpose is common. And mine is not as blind-love-centered as you may think.”

 

[pointmango]

Ethon’s eyes followed Aiyda as she rose to dance with Brask. He wished he had thought of the idea prior, but his southern features probably would have attracted unwanted attention. Both Conrad and Ethon’s heads nodded as Mathys mentioned her dancing, they had both witnessed it before.

“We are here to protect our people, our land, our country even. Here because you told us to be Mathys.” Conrad corrected him. Even if their motives had been swayed by the girl, they were here for that reason.

“Lighten yourself.” Ethon said to him. “We should do our best to keeps our chests light in these times of rest. Remember when you used to joke throughout every journey we set on?” Ethon asked Conrad, even glancing to Monty as if to ask him for a nod for backup. Monty kept his gaze on Aiyda and Brask.

“Yes. I was childish then.” Conrad said.

“Then? Conrad, how recent was our last hunt together?” Ethon questioned, but the glare he received from Conrad was a message to stop talking. Ethon frowned, “We aren’t going to die on this journey Conrad. Maybe when we return to White Hall. Maybe during the next full moon. But not here. Permission to be excused, mi’ Lord?” Ethon asked ready to spit on the table.

“Ethon, don’t-”

“My Lord?” Ethon asked again.

“Goodnight Ethon.” Conrad said and Ethon lifted from the table heading towards the inn’s rooms. Conrad sipped his ale again, wondering what had changed in his friend. It wasn’t the girl, of course the girl had put a spring in his friends step, but ever since the King and Queen paid them a visit he had been so tightly wound. Conrad looked to Mathys now, “Has Ethon spoken anything odd to you in the past couple weeks?” He wondered curiously to both Mathys and Monty.

*

Brask was a skilled dancer, not as forceful as Conrad, nor as upbeat as him, but he was not as loose as Ethon either. He kept the time well, a bit on the slower side, but he regained each step out of place fairly quickly. He’d never conversed alone with the girl, nor did he desire to. But here they were. How observant she was. He commented to himself as she seemed to get the idea he was not fond of her.

He finished another twirl with her, “I will question every move Lord Conrad makes.” He assured her. “He is young, you are young. So is Ethon and your brother… a child.” He told her. “He must think more than twice in any direction suggested to him. He knows he has the final word, but he is impulsive. A trait of his I’m sure you know very well.” Brask told her as he side stepped to the left with her, then spun her slightly. When he pulled her back in he frowned, “He is blinded by love. So is the green-face. And you are trying to avoid any conflict between the pair of them.” Brask pulled her in a bit tighter. “We all have something, someone to fight for Aiyda. Our purpose is common, but our something’s and someone’s are not.” He said. “I am here for my duty to White Hall. I am banded with a group of children, so I will question every move made.” he informed her.