Fantasy _______| 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖙 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕺𝖉𝖎𝖓 |

[The Witch Son]

Lady

;; Veora

“Stallions and geldings will cut and run if something spooks them. Even the well trained ones. Mares however… mares will take care of you as well as you take care of them. They’re smarter and meaner and many a stupid man does not prefer them. But mark my words, I've never seen a stallion bring an unconscious man home. I have seen a mare do it though.”

Lady Veora contemplated what her father, the most honorable man she’d ever known, had told her as she fed her mare, Lady Gray, the last bits of sugar in her open palm. Lady Gray was her favorite horse and the only one in these stables that didn’t really get ridden so much as she got spoiled and groomed and taken out to run free. For Veora was not a great rider. That didn’t mean she couldn’t adore the mare gifted to her though. That didn’t mean she wasn’t attached to her pretty dappled gray companion. Her white mane and tail was braided with ribbons lovingly, as if to say this mare was truly a lady and not a beast of burden.

She could choose another, Veora thought bitterly, any one in these stalls would do. Perhaps even her father’s. Yes, maybe the message would be more chilling if she chose her father’s big black destrier, she thought meanly. His was the thick head she needed to get through to.

But no.

The dagger behind her back glinted coldly in the moonlight.

The sacrifice had to be Veora’s. Or else it would not matter to Odin. Or more importantly, those who worshiped him and his pantheon. It’s not a sacrifice if it does not ache, is what he had told her.

How much more would Odin demand? Had the life behind her not been one of a hundred thousand sacrifices already? Hadn’t the babe in her womb been enough?

It had been only enough to get her here, she reminded herself. This was a new beginning, despite the weight she felt of her old life. The sacrifices made now had to be more pointed, under her control, and of her own volition. Unlike last time, when all that she’d lost had been taken from her and she was made to be a passive presence in it all. A hundred thousand sacrifices.

So how many more sacrifices would she be asked to give in this life? One hundred thousand more’, Odin would probably respond pitilessly. She would have to make one hundred thousand sacrifices more to achieve her goals this time around. There would be no next. He’d been clear on that. She had one more chance. More than most get.

It was a good thing she was not soft anymore, not like in her last life.

The dagger glinted again, and her mare gave a sharp wheeze, leaning forward, stunned. Veora had been worried that Lady Grey might scream as she died. A horse’s scream was sharp and loud. But another surprisingly quiet and airy wheeze was Lady Grey’s only dying noise as she kneeled and bled out. The dark and sticky blood pouring forth and pooling around Veora’s bare feet and skirt hem.

Veora allowed it, not moving out of the way of the mess, the messiness was the point. She plunged her hands into it, using some to draw a line across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. The rest for a gorey effect on her hands. She’d abandoned her shoes somewhere on the cold ground outside, and would be walking back to the feast, her birthday feast, barefoot. It was towards the end, when over half the people in attendance had gone to bed already, especially the young. But her re-entrance was sure to end it entirely.

One would think that when creating a scene like this that you’d benefit best by doing it at the height of the feast, when everyone was dancing and sober enough to remember every detail. But you’d be wrong. Eyesight might create belief, but word of mouth created myth and legend and rumor. Obscurity could make you bigger and scarier and more divine than you actually are.

She’d drawn inspiration from the amusement she used to feel at the stories about the young king of the north, raging through battle on the back of a giant black bear. The southern court had created a fearsome legend out of the brother she knew to be only a mortal man.

Those that would see tonight’s drama would feel privileged, those who had not would pester them for details and create their own. Around each other they’d spin until an image of her would arise. A messiah of Odin. A prophetess. She that the stars fell for, for ten whole nights.

That part she hadn’t been conscious for. Apparently it had scared her family, especially the little ones. She’d been unconscious and deathly cold for ten nights. And for ten nights the sky had rained stars in the dark night sky. It was Odin’s magic turning back time, she knew, but to everyone else it had been a frighteningly strange coincidence. Ten nights for ten years.

She could sacrifice a babe in her belly for that, and her favorite mare on her birthday feast.

Even if her father did not believe her ruse tonight, he could not ignore what his people believed. He would have to hesitate when the letter from the Emperor came.

Her feet were numb to the biting cold by the time she reached her birthday feast, she let the numbness spread into her veins as she strode in with the bearing of the Queen she once was. Clutching her bloody dagger and glowering straight ahead.

She squared her shoulders and shoved past the first few people in her way, soon, they took notice of her and scrambled away in shock.

Someone must have alerted the room, because the music stopped.

Veora didn’t know who, her ears were ringing with adrenalin and some strange spell that had come over her. As if her body believed too that she was a prophetess who came to warn the north of its impending doom.

She stopped in front of the high table, where her father now stood in shock next to his alarmed wife, her stepmother, Lady Davina.

Veora pointed her dagger at her father and bellowed in the deepest and clearest voice she could muster.

“The south carries a false song of the sea’s treachery, do not dance to the song’s tune and betray the boy you raised. This, Odin warns, would be your first mistake of many.”

Whispers, uncomfortable shifts, scoffs, little irritating noises that Veora heard around her that did not matter right now. What mattered most was that she heard and felt someone shifting behind her, a little too close.

“Veora-” Her father began, reaching out towards her with a frightened look in his eyes. But before he could say more she quickly turned the knife on herself, threatening to cut her own throat.

Everyone froze, including whomever was behind her.

“Do not ignore Odin’s warning, or you’ll spill more northern blood than was spilt tonight.” Her father’s hand twitched, and the person behind her lunged, expecting a struggle but finding none.

Veora had meant to pretend to faint, to ignore the sting of where she pressed her dagger and go limp. But instead her faint is very real. That strange sensation of a spell coming over her forcing her to close her eyes and lose focus.

Lady Davina screamed, and the last thing Veora thinks is that whoever is holding her feels warm, and reminds her of her late husband.

coded by reveriee.

 

[StarryKnights]

When Cosette received word that she had been invited to the northernmost territory for a birthday feast, she was utterly appalled. She could think of few things more frivolous and wasteful than a banquet celebrating a single woman’s day of birth.

“Oh come now Coco”, Sylvie admonished. “You’ll be alright!” Sat in front of an opulent mirror adorned with gold and silver filigree, Sylvie was the picture perfect of loveliness. Her hair hung freely down her back in thick, umber waves. Cosette was currently engaged in brushing it, letting the smooth strands slip through her fingers and the comb.
“It is utterly pointless. I’ve never met this Veora Grimald. There is no decent reason for her to send for me”

“Perhaps she thinks you are charming? As I do”, Sylvie teased. Cosette rolled her eyes, a gesture which Sylvie could not see.
“Come now, none of that”, the elder Rowan frowned. A small smile cracked the icy surface of Cosette’s demeanor. Sylvie always had a way of sensing her intent or mood. Blind or not, her sister was very adept at reading social cues and a room.

“You are my sister. Your opinion is biased”

“You are wonderful, a breath of fresh air for any court. I doubt House Grimald has ever seen a woman quite like you”

Cosette glanced toward the mirror, taking care that she gathered the locks gently as they were coaxed into the braid which Sylvie preferred. This kept the hair out of her face and maintained the neat, orderly appearance expected of a daughter of a Lord.
Cosette by contrast, had silvery hair, akin to the color of snow. It might’ve aged her, were it not for her rounded face and large eyes.

She might’ve been beautiful, were it not for the interlaced scaring which ran down the left side of her face. A single snare had gone off at the wrong time, blighting the young woman for life. Luckily her eyesight was unaffected. Luck seemed to flow through Cosette's veins.

“You say that like it is a good thing Sylvie” Cosette finished the braid with a few final twists, securing the locks with a simple violet ribbon.

“It is. Even if you don’t see it” Please. Father thinks the trip will serve you well too”

Of course he did. Anything to get Cosette out of his hair. “Father would convince sending me to a wolves den would be a positive experience for me”

“Little sister, you are far too dour for someone so young”

Cosette sighed. “And you are far too chipper. In general. But if going will set your mind at ease, then I shall”
She flashed a smile. “But be honest Sylvie. You just want to engage in the gossip circling in the north”

Sylvie feigned shock. “Me? Why I’d never!”

_+_+

Several days prior to the Birthday Banquet, Cosette arrived at the Mountainkeep.

The trip into Grimald territory was disappointingly easy. Heading through Glenwood point made for a quick and painless exit of the Orick range. Cosette knew these peaks and valleys like the back of her hand. It was bittersweet to be leaving them behind in favor of the northernmost territory of the Empire. Cosette had never traveled so far before, any excitement she might’ve felt was utterly tempered by the notion of having to suffer through a socialite’s birthday party.

Not to mention she was stuck with a rather insufferable traveling companion. No Lady was permitted to travel alone, her parents had arranged what felt like a small army to accompany Cosette as she traveled. A handful of knights and servants, all there to ensure her comfort and protection.

As if Cosette wasn’t capable of a week and a half’s worth of riding alone. She would’ve made it to the blasted banquet twice as fast were it not for these fools. Worst of all was Viktor Hammel, a knight of great standing from Rowan territory. He was the son of one of her father’s bannermen. Truly, he was an example to others in the field. Strong as an ox, loyal to a fault.

As dumb as a shovel of horse shit as far as Cosette was concerned. A week's worth of hearing him blather on and on about various court happenings was enough to make her wish to arrive at their destination. At least then the gossip would be fucking new to her.

Even so, when the party did finally arrive in Grimald territory, Cosette couldn’t escape the sinking feeling of dread which settled in her stomach.

Let’s just get this over with. A few days as “honored guests” One blasted banquet and we will be on our way home. Viktor will at least have some new gossip to peddle on the way home.

Sylvie would be so excited to hear all of the latest news. For her, Cosette would bear with this ridiculous affair.

“Stand up straight Lady Rowan”, behind her, a voice hissed. Lottie, her nursemaid since she was but a babe. One of the few staff members employed by House Rowan that Cosette could stand. She clicked her tongue. “Yes Mother”

The old woman merely chuckled as the gates of Mountainkeep swung open. The sound was deafening, already making Cosette long for the silence of her isolated cabin in the woods.

“Step forward now, and offer the nice Lord a smile dearie”, Lottie encouraged.

Right. Smile like an idiot. Walk as if you’re made of air. Laugh at whatever pathetic jokes he makes… Ugh.

Despite her misgivings, Cosette urged her mount forward, stepped forward, head held high, expression nigh unreadable. Her lips gave a slight twitch as she tried to smile. She feared the expression would come off more as a smirk then any sort of greeting.

It was hard not to laugh at the scene before her. Lord Grimald stood at the ready with his two children at his side. Lady Veora looked radiant, if not a bit dour dressed in black. And Rhory, the elder of the two…

Well, he looked decided as if he didn’t wish to be there. That made two of them.

Once past the gate, Cosette swung down off her horse, with the aid of one of her servants. Sure, she could easily handle a simple dismount alone, but such a thing would look decidedly unladylike.

Lottie had gone to great effort to make Cosette look like a proper lady. Her hair was elegantly tied up in a braided crown, adorned with golden ribbons which matched her family’s coat of arms.

Her dress was fairly simple, but perfectly tailored to her short stature. It was also violet in color, as it was one of the few colors Cosette felt didn’t clash with her platinum locks. Her amber eyes, usually rimmed with lines, were painted to cover such unsightly things. All the makeup in the world couldn’t hide the scars which ran down the left side of her face. They snaked out like forks of lightning, extending around her eye and down her cheek. Many got nervous upon seeing them, or looked away in disgust.

How the Grimald’s reacted would give her insight on whether or not she had any desire to associate with them. She bowed her head and offered the prerequisite curtsy as Viktor stepped forward to introduce her properly. One servant stepped forward and took the reigns of her mount, allowing Cosette to approach on foot without worry of her steed following after her.

“Introducing Lady Rowan of Castle Seventhson” She straightened, and put on her best smile.
It did little to hide her rather cynical energy.

“Yes. Thank you for the invitation”

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord

;; Rhory

Veora yawned for perhaps the third time since they'd been standing there in the courtyard, trying to hide it behind her hand.

It made Rhory roll his eyes, “You're still wearing black Vee?”

“Rhory.” Lord Giles warned.

“Well it's impolite isn't it? To be wearing black for weeks on end as if you're in mourning when you've got nothing to mourn. We’re all alive last I checked.” He declared louder this time.

“Rhory.” His father sighed.

But this did nothing to deter him, he'd much rather focus on picking on Vee than ever deal with his own nervousness. Besides, she deserved it after going behind his back and discussing with father his marriage prospects. That's what this was wasn't it? He wasn't stupid, Vee was pestering him about the damn riding doublet and what to say and do for Lady Rowen’s visit and that she'd string him up if he wasn't the perfect lordling and on and on it went. You’d think it was a feast for Lady Rowen they were holding and not Vee herself.

Besides, everything he said was true and it was downright annoying that Vee refused to so much as acknowledge it any time he said something about her strange behavior. Father was acting like she was made of glass and even the loudmouthed Dhara was being quiet and it was like everyone was anticipating… something to happen to her. And Vee wasn't helping damnit. She wasn't doing a damn thing to put anyone at ease, as if the extremely nosy girl didn't even notice how jumpy everyone was now.

“Are those flowers for our graves?” He said in what was probably his snottiest, most annoying, tone.

“Rhory!” His father was mad now.

Said flowers smacked him in the face, “They’re for Lady Rowen, it's what I'm giving her as a welcome. And I'll make you give them to her if you don't stop whining.” Veora threatened.

“Father! She's trying to kill me!” He’d actually die of embarrassment if she had him do that, it was embarrassing enough that she spent weeks making a riding doublet fit for some damn empress for him to gift as a declaration of intent the first damn day they've ever met but flowers?! He was going to actually die.

“Gods help Lady Rowen if she ever agrees to be your wife Rhory you are the- here they come straighten up everyone.” Lord Giles cut off whatever he was about to say as the thunderous gates of Mountainkeep opened.

coded by reveriee.

 

[The Witch Son]

Lady

;; veora

Oh gods, she was here and real and Rhory was going to die.

He'd hoped, for one ludicrous second when the gates had opened, that Vee would throw her arms up and father laugh and it would have all turned out to be one big jape aimed at him. That there was no Lady Rowen and she was a myth after all and they could all just make fun of the expression on his face, clap him on the back, and head inside. It isn't as though he wouldn't deserve it, a jape of this magnitude.

But no such luck, the biggest jape of all was standing before him and he felt so green. He hoped it didn't show on his face. He stared and stared.

“Well met!”

Lord Grimald responded to… who was that? A knight, yes of course a Knight was escorting her. Rhory’s thick head supplied. She was a Lady she wasn't going to arrive on her own.

He scanned the retinue and deliberately ignored who was obviously the Lady in question. Maybe she couldn't bite him if he pretended she wasn't there?

“House Grimald welcomes the Lady Rowan to enjoy the hospitality and warmth of the Mountainkeep. You have before you it's Lord.” Lord Grimald bowed, “My heir Ser Rhory, and my eldest daughter Lady Veora.”

Rhory did not fumble his bow. He did not. He was decorum itself. If decorum had a name, it was Rhory, future lord of House Grimald. Besides, he didn't matter a fig right now, Vee promised.

Standing just behind Rhory, trying desperately not to laugh at his friend’s obvious distress was Ser Sylas Day. Ward of house Grimald, brother to Rhory, and enjoyer of all this chaos. He managed to suppress a smile as Rhory finished his totally normal bow.

Smooth Rhory, smooth.

And as if on queue, Lady Veora stepped forward after giving her well practiced and ever so graceful curtsy in greeting. Something so ingrained in her now, she did it without thought.

“Lady Rowan! I’m elated that your father could spare you for the celebration, it isn't often that I’m allowed to invite special guests to the Mountainkeep.” Finally, Veora had in her grasp one of the most important people in all of Dorelith. Though few would guess it to ever be the case.

Cosette had to remind herself not to step backward as Lady Veora approached her. She seemed harmless enough, what with her perfectly manicured appearance. She was certainly a proper Lady. This only confused Cosette more. Why would such a prim and proper woman seek her company, of all people?

‘What a liar!’ Rhory thought as he watched his sister go to Lady Rowan’s side as if they were old bosom friends. His sister had never been denied a damn thing in her life. He silently commiserated as much to Sylas behind him before suffering a glare from father.

Sylas allowed a small smile to slip there, though he did agree with Rhory. Veora had never known the word no, in fact it was a small wonder she hadn’t demanded more for her birthday feast. Given Veora’s love of all things southern, he was surprised that Lady Rowan was the only noble from the region who’d been sent a special invitation.

“I picked these for you.” Veora gave her friendliest smile and handed Lady Rowen the flowers, taking in her face and committing it to memory as she did so.

Lady Rowen had the most pale blonde hair Veora had ever seen, it was almost white. Like winter snow tossled by the wind. And she had equally as lovely amber eyes. Her brow was a darker grey, to distinguish the stronger features on her pretty face. Which was tinged pink by the chilled air. She was the pale winter itself, perfect for a northern queen.

Even her one flaw, the scar on her eye, made her look fit for the harsh climate of the north. After all, delicate things couldn't survive the winter wind here. Her own mother didn't.

Veora decided she was perfect and was extremely self satisfied with her decision.

Cosette’s eyes widened as Veora presented the flowers. They were lovely, and a type she hadn’t seen before. She blinked, regarding the other woman with newfound suspicion.

Was this a simple assumption that most women liked such frilly things? Did Veora know that she was a lover of all things from the outdoors? Only time would tell.

“You spoil me Lady Veora”, she took the bouquet after just a moment's hesitation. “I feel it is a bit of a faux paux for the lady of honor to be giving gifts so close to her birthday. But the thought is…appreciated”

Veora had absolutely no idea what to make of that. But it certainly was bold of her. And boldness was what she needed. So she ignored the suspicion entirely and gestured on.

“But surely the Lady Rowen receives plenty of flowers, what with looks like yours after all.” She nodded to father, who nodded back. The boy’s part was done here and they need only attend to the retinue now.

“They’re winter lilies. They start blooming in the fall and last through the winter. The only flower to do so naturally this far north.” Veora explained as she led Cosette into the keep. The bannermen were staying in the building to the left of the main keep, but Veora thought it both more appropriate and more convenient to house Lady Rowen in the main keep, given her status and Veora’s own plans for her.

Cosette arched an eyebrow. She recognized baseless flattery when she heard it. Perhaps she’d been wrong, and this had been a mere guess. If Veora had done any sort of digging, she’d know no one was lining up to give her such compliments.

At least not genuine ones.

“Ah, winter lilies. How lovely”, she took a moment to smell the bouquet, choosing not to address Veora’s other comment in the presence of her father and brother.

She followed after Veora, giving Lottie a slight nod before departing. Her nursemaid looked so proud in that moment, seeing Cosette saunter off with a lady of high standing.

She’d be so disappointed to hear Cosette’s next comment.

“This flattery is…sweet, Lady Veora. But unnecessary. I fear I have little to offer in return.”

Veora gave a genuine laugh, “You're as blunt as I thought you would be Lady Cosette. You needn't worry about being anything other than what you are. Attitudes like yours suit the north. I think down in the south they might think us too stoic or harsh a people, but, perhaps there's honesty where flattery is lacking. And warmth…” She stopped in front of the door to the main hall, where Lady Davina could be seen directing the raising of the drapery.

“That is the Mountainkeep’s mistress, Lady Davina. She's from the midlands, House Mallory, one of your father’s bannermen I believe.” She pointed at Dhara, who was standing on one of the tables behind her mother's back and likely to be yelled at when discovered.

“And that naughty one is Dhara, my little sister. She wants to be a shieldmaiden one day, like in the stories.” She said non-judgmentally, suspecting that Dhara and Cosette might get along quite well if Dhara didn't annoy the snot out of her.

“I have another, Gyda, but she's very young and only just started speaking in coherent sentences.” Veora said fondly before moving them along.

Strange, Lady Veora seemed to be aware of Cosette’s reputation. Furthermore, she seemed to like it. This was new for Lady Rowan. The shock showed, though she was quick to hide it as Veora continued the introductions.

Lady Davina and Dhara respectively. Extended members of the Grimald family. Though even with her two sisters and brother, Veora’s family paled in comparison to Cosette’s. Between her four siblings, their husbands and their children, things tended to get very hectic when the entire family was gathered.

As the youngest of her siblings, it was strange to think that Veora had two siblings under her. And for one to be so…rambunctious, was amusing.

Such a strange child… Not unlike myself I suppose.

She followed Lady Veora further into Mountainkeep, occasionally her gaze would flicker around the scenery silently as she committed the layout to memory. It was always good to know where the nearest exit in any room was, and how to navigate one’s surroundings.
If she ever needed to make a hasty retreat through this Castle, Cosette didn’t want to be caught unaware.

“Normally Lady Davina would see to the guests and their needs, but as there are quite a few staying with us currently any needs you have are better directed to me.” Veora explained, pointing out different areas they passed as they went. Until finally, they reached their destination.

“This floor is where guests stay, the room just above yours is mine. I thought you might like to have a view of the training grounds.” Veora opened the door and invited Cosette in.

“I like to watch from my room occasionally.” She said offhandedly as she approached the window and checked the view. Cosette might like the view for the very same reasons Veora liked the view given time. Or did… once many years ago when she was not so ruined.

Though Cosette was more likely to want to be on the training grounds, she suspected. It wasn't likely that the famed Bandit of The Midlands herself was new to the violent arts when she ran off into the woods in another future she would never take.

Not now that Veora had caught her in her trap.

“The boys like to use it after breaking their fast.” And Rhory used it for far longer after.

Mountainkeep was every bit as grand one might expect the house of a Lord to be. Cosette found this slightly disappointing, but not surprising. It wouldn’t do for one of the most powerful families in the empire to live in squalor.

She was somewhat surprised to find she’d be staying in the main house, rather then in one of the many adjacent properties like her envoy was.

Her room was, as she feared, exceptionally dedicant. The view wasn’t half bad though.

“This is…lovely, the perfect picture of opulence”. She didn’t bother to hide her disdain at the notion. A warm cot by the fire with a semi decent roof over her head was all Cosette needed. How she longed for the simplicity of her uncle’s cabin.

Still, having a view of the training grounds was intriguing. The pair approached the window, and Cosette was far more interested in the training ground than anything else Veora had to say on the matter.

Surely this meant the woman was aware of her reputation? Why else give her a room with such a view? She glanced at Veora after a few moments of silence, face knit into a frown.

“You are confusing Lady Veora. You clearly seem to be aware of my reputation. Yet it doesn't bother you.”, her gaze narrowed. Arms crossed, she leaned against the wall in a stance that was not particularly lady-like.

“Now why is that I wonder?”

Veora blinked owlishly.

“Reputation? I’m afraid you overestimate whatever the north may have heard of Lady Rowen. We don't get much gossip from down south up here.” Veora lied neatly, leaning on the windowsill.

“What reputation do you imagine you might have?” She asked, intrigued on what Cosette had to say about herself.

Cosette found that hard to believe. Gossip spread like wildfire through the various courts. She’d traveled as far as the eastern corners of the empire and managed to catch glimpses of her escapades. All blown wildly out of proportion. Once she heard a tale of how, supposedly the Wild One of House Rowan had wrestled a wild wolf into submission. Just for fun.

…As if she’d ever do such a dangerous thing. Without good reason.

“You're either trying to be polite, or are truly sheltered to have missed such gossip”

Veora posed an interesting question however. How to word this delicately.

“My reputation is one of an unkempt, disrespectful, unmitigated disaster of a woman, who’d rather spend her days deep stranded in the highest peak of the mountains then sit through an insufferable court party.”

Veora gave a non-committal “Mmm.” and nodded, politely inscrutable.

Cosette managed a slight chuckle. “I also apparently wrestle wolves. I only wish there was some truth to that.”

She eyed Veora curiously once again. She knew enough to recognize when a lady was up to something. She’d seen her fair share of schemes play out at the various court functions she’d had to attend. Her own sisters were adept at this sort of manipulation.

Cosette didn’t have the patience for it.

“Why did you invite me here, of all people?”, her head tilted slightly to the side. “Surely there were countless other southern nobles you could’ve had here, even out of my own family.”

Sure, her eldest sisters were perhaps a bit too old for this sort of function, given they were all married.

But Sylvie would’ve been a natural fit for this sort of thing. And while she’d been so supportive of Cosette, deep down Coco knew her big sister would’ve loved to be here.

“Blind or not, I think you would’ve found my elder sister Sylvie a far more agreeable companion. And perhaps a better wife. For your brother. Or…the ward perhaps?”
Cosette found it unlikely that Veora would care who the misplaced heir to house Day wound up with. But her own brother?

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a sibling had inserted themselves into the matter of their kin’s wedding prospects.

Cosette had plenty of experience in that regard.

“Mmm, no, my brother definitely. I don't have any business meddling in the marriage prospects of House Day’s heir.” Veora stated matter of factly, breaking her patient silence.

“Since you're not any good at wrestling wild creatures I wonder if you might be any good at archery?” Veora changed the topic entirely, pulling off her gloves and showing her palms and fingers to Cosette.

“All this trouble and I can barely manage to get the arrow to reach the target. Mostly it just slides through the dirt by the time it gets that far.” Veora lamented her blistered hands.

A shift in topic wasn’t enough to dissuade Cosette’s suspicions. Still, she loathed these sorts of conversations. Honestly, a shovel full of manure, straight to the face sounded more enticing then remaining in this house.

Still, the jump to archery wasn’t quite what she’d expected. “I never said I couldn’t wrestle a wild animal. Just that I haven’t needed to. In recent years anyway.”
She leaned lower as Veora removed her gloves, expression shifting from clear district to mild shock.

“You, you’ve taken up archery?” she asked incredulously. Without waiting for a response, Cosette took hold of Veora’s wrist and brought her hands closer for inspection. Such a thing was decidedly not proper, Cosette didn’t rightly care.

“In secret Lady Rowen, mind you.” Veora cautioned. Giving Cosette something to hold over her head would go a long way towards building trust. Lady Rowen could really get her into trouble with this. Maybe not in a way Veora couldn't talk herself out of but trouble that a 19 year old Lady Veora would find terrifying at least.

After a moment's study Cosette determined that these were the sort of calluses and blisters archery might cause. Though there were plenty of other causes as well.

“I have been shooting a bow most of my life, Lady Veora”, she commented dryly. “Parties and court functions can burn in a pit. But archery, that I can handle.”

She smiled, a bit of pride showing through. “Is that why you asked me here? You’ve asked me come all this way to show you how to shoot properly?” She chuckled. “Quite the strange thing to request for one’s birthday”

“I'm very persistent about what I want Lady Rowen, and a very determined student I think you'll find. If you'll agree to keep this just between us girls. Father can not know! And more than that Rhory can not know.” Veora rolled her eyes and scoffed, “He's so annoying. I don't envy you, being called all this way to be courted by him.” Veora stifled laughter, genuinely enjoying japing at her brother’s expense.

Ah, so Cosette had been right. She was here just as much for Rhory as she was Veora. Wonderful.

“I fear your brother isn’t particularly interested in me, going off our first interactions”, she rolled her eyes. Such things didn’t matter, if an agreement had been reached between her father and Lord Grimald then neither her nor Rhory’s opinion mattered.

“Either that, or he is seriously lacking in decorum when it comes to the opposite sex.” Spoken as if she gave an ounce of a fuck about the lord to be.

“I’m much more interested in this little side hobby. I’m…tentatively happy to assist you on the matter. Covertly, of course”
Not all nobles were as nonchalant with their daughters as her own. Lord Grimald probably wouldn’t be pleased to find his daughter involved in such a grueling hobby.

“Be warned, my criticisms will be sharp, and utterly lacking of any decorum”, she smirked. “I assume that won’t trouble you in the slightest”

Veora smiled knowingly in return.

coded by reveriee.

 

[StarryKnights]

Veora’s birthday party was every bit as dull as Cosette had feared it would be. Mountainkeep was filled to the brim with the stuffy, clout chasing aristocrats that made her skin crawl. She did her best to keep up appearances, not wanting to cause any sort of scene. Veora might’ve been conveniently ignorant to Cosette’s history, but many of her guests were not.

The night was filled with side-long glances and ignoring barely hushed whispers. Cosette often found herself gripping her glass tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Of course the gossip was made all the worse thanks to her illustrious escort.

Ser Rhory Grimald himself, oh she longed to just curl up in a corner, wither away and turn to dust. Or slip a conveniently open window. Neither of which were an option when she was on the arm of a Lord’s son.

Internally, she cursed Veora for bringing her here. If she’d wanted archery lessons that bloody badly, she could’ve at least waited until after her blasted birthday.

Externally, she managed to maintain a tight lipped smile, laugh at mostly appropriate times, and not break the fine goblet of wine she held onto tightly.

Keep it together Cosette. No need to cause a scene.

As the night wore on, the crowds thankfully began to thin out. Many of the younger guests retired, the music quieted and things began to settle. Cosette allowed herself to relax just a hair.

Sipping her drink, she was content to stand by as Rhory broke off to chat with Sylas.
The two had been formally introduced earlier in the night, it was clear from their friendly interactions that Rhory and Ser Day were fairly close.

Cosette had no strong opinions on Sylas, other than finding it strange for him to be so at ease in a house that wasn’t his own.

She knew not what the pair were discussing, though from the way Sylas glanced toward her, she could assume.
She gave Ser Day a smile that was a fraction off from being a full on scowl. The sight made Sylas balk a bit. Veora was usually the only one glaring at him like that.

“I see tales of her ferocity weren’t exaggerated then”, he continued, looking back at Rhory. “I look forward to watching you fumble about in an attempt to court her”, he smirked.

“Don't be tactless.” Rhory wacked Sylas’s doublet with the back of his hand, a little too serious.

All catty gossip came to a screeching halt as Veora returned. In truth, Cosette hadn’t even noticed the lady of the hour had slipped away. But the moment she stepped into the hall, covered in dirt, grim and blood, Cosette was on alert. The good lady carried a dagger, and as she slowly crossed the hall, Cosette debated how much of a scene she’d cause if she attempted to disarm the woman before she could use the weapon.

Surely tackling the lady and pinning her to the ground would be…frowned upon. Quietly she set her glass down on the head table, gaze fixated on Veroa, wary of what she might do next.
The lines on her face and cryptic words were of little consequence, all Cosette focused on was that blade.

But for Sylas, her words and state sent a shiver down his spine. He’d never seen Veora like this before. No one had, clearly.

As she spoke, Sylas moved closer, not wanting to see anyone get hurt in that moment. His movements threw off Cosette’s own calculations, causing her much concentration. Both parties slowly crept closer, not wanting to startle Veora less she did something drastic.

All Rhory did was freeze.

It was Sylas who got closest, though he stopped dead in his tracks as Veora turned the blade against herself.

“Veora no!” Sylas lunged, looking to disarm her before any further harm came to her. She slumped into his arms without another word, the blade clattering to the floor.

“Tristan...” She mumbled before her eyes rolled back into her head and she was out cold.

Lady Davina screamed, Cosette lunged forward and immediately began assessing Veora.
For a moment, Sylas merely sat there, crading Veroa’s unconscious figure. Nevermind the blood which stained his hands and attire. His expression was a mix of shock, horror and concern.

He was roused from his shock by Cosette, who rather unceremoniously shoved him to the side as she took Veora from his arms.
“Ser Day, I think you’d best sit back. You're looking rather pale”, her tone brooked no room for an argument, her gaze hardened.

Sylas fumbled for a response, slowly inching away as Cosette worked. She examined Veora more closely, taking care to kick the blade far from the unconscious woman. Cosette first ensured that she was, in fact, still breathing.

“Send for the physician! At once!” Lord Grimald’s voice boomed with authority, making Rhory finally jump into action.

Fetch the physician, he could do that.

By the grace of the gods, she was still breathing. In fact, despite all the blood, the only injury Cosette could find was the tiny knick left in her neck by the tip of the blade.

“She is unharmed”, she looked up to Lord Grimald and Lady Davina. “This blood isn’t hers”
Her gaze shifted to the smeared trail of viscera Veroa had left in her wake. Which of course begged the question, where had all the blood come from?

“A sacrifice…” Lord Grimald breathed as he studied his daughter’s unconscious form in Lady Rowen’s arms.

“Who did she sacrifice?” Lady Davina, recognizing the blood for what it was, asked in a small terrified voice.

Lord Grimald didn't answer and only bent down to pick his daughter up.

“Everyone! Clear the path, let him through!” Lady Davina commanded, and people, who had begun to approach, scampered away like a parting sea, Lord Grimald cutting through them in all haste.

“The feast is very much over I believe, thank you for celebrating with us.” Lady Davina, breathless, took control of the situation as best she could. Bending down to help Lady Rowen and then Ser Day up. She held onto them both with a vice grip.

“Where is the dagger?” She asked aloud, suddenly remembering it and realizing that everyone was too close and no one was leaving the hall like they were supposed to.

“It’s mine?” Lord Corbray had picked it up.

Lady Davina didn't like that. Not one bit.

“I had thought I had misplaced it, it was missing from my rooms.” Lord Corbray said accusingly.

“Surrender it to me Lord Corbray.” Lady Davina let go of Lady Rowen and extended her hand, not liking where this was headed. Lord Corbray and his beady eyes were perhaps the worst possible hands that dagger could be in.

Lord Corbray did not comply, and instead wiped its blade on his sleeve.

“It should be returned to its owner, Lady Grimald.” Was all he supplied.

Everyone was dead silent.

Damn House Corbray and their distrustful men! Lady Davina didn't know where she mustered the courage, but right now she was far angrier than she was scared and she let it show as she let go of Ser Day and marched right up to Lord Corbray and got in his face.

She was taller than he was.

“You will surrender that dagger to me Lord Corbray or Lord Grimald will be taking it from you in a less polite manner later.” She threatened.

Lord Corbray smirked, “As my Ladyship commands.”

Lady Davina wrenched it from his grip and turned to everyone else, deadly calm.

“I believe I dismissed you all from my feasting hall. You've had too much to drink and you will repeat tonight's events to no one. Now out! All of you!”

The slow shuffle out finally began.

Lord Grimald quickly came and collected his daughter, freeing Cosette up to get to her feet. She was aided by Lady Davina, though that wasn’t necessary. Nor was the vice grip she maintained on her shoulder.

She cast the hand holding her a confused look, and took a breath to keep from snapping. Tensions were running high, now wasn’t the time to be petty. At the very least,Veora wasn’t injured. At least not physically. Given all that she’d said though Cosette couldn’t help but wonder if it was her mind that was ill.

After all there was no logical explanation for what had transpired here today. Cosette felt a twinge of respect for Lady Davina as she tried to take control of the situation, even if the various onlookers all seemed to be in shock. She suppressed a smile as the good Lady dealt with a rather obstructive guest. It always amused her to see women tower over men in power.

Sylas snapped out of his shock as lady Davina came over and got him on his feet. His hands and clothes were smeared with blood, but nowhere near as badly as Cosette. Her fine gown was entirely ruined.

Good riddance as far as she was concerned. The crowd was beginning to file out now, with the gawking onlookers finally taking Lady Davina’s words seriously. Sylas knew this time tomorrow, news of this chaos would be all over the court, and making its way across the empire.

Lord Grimald would have to come up with some sort of an explanation, and bury this entire event. So before he could do so…

“Ser Day?”
Cosette’s voice snapped Sylas from his thoughts. The two were some of the last to leave the hall now. “I suggest you retire, and clean yourself up”, she casually wiped some of the blood off her cheek. “You look amess”

He blinked. “As do you, Lady Rowan.”

Cosette merely shrugged. “It is no real loss, I detest this sort of attire.”

Her flippant attitude was rather aggravating, though Sylas chose not to address it. Now wasn’t the time for such things. The proper thing to do would be to escort the lady to her quarters so she could clean up. Sylas wasn’t interested in doing so, and thankfully he was spared from having to offer as Lottie came darting in.

“Cosette! Dearie are you unharmed?”, the old woman fretted over her charge, even as Cosette waved her off. “Please Lottie, I am fine”

The nursemaid continued to fret, and reprimand Cosette as she was quickly ushered out of the building. Sylas caught a sliver of the maid’s concerns, something about ruining another gown and making a scene. In truth, Cosette’s utter calm had helped mitigate the chaos.

The young lord to be took a deep breath before finally making his way out of the hall. Outside, the cool night air carried with it the stench of iron and blood.
Blood that hadn’t been Veora’s thankfully. But then where did it come from? And what had Veora been ranting about. To invoke the name of Odin and brandish a knife at her own father. To paint herself with the blood of an unknown creature.

None of it made a lick of sense. As Sylas walked, he quickly discovered a bloody path left in Veora’s wake. It was simple enough to follow, the blood shined rather consciously in the light of the moon. In time, the trail led him to a rather grisly sight.

“No, not Lady Gray” He could scarcely believe what he was seeing, Veora’s beloved equine companion, bled out like a stuck pig. All matter of viscera stained the ground around the corpse, and Sylas felt his stomach lurch.

What could’ve driven Veora to do such a thing? He felt, on that cool spring night, the answer to come would bring with it a heap of chaos.

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord

;; Rhory

Veora walked through the thicket until she came to a clearing, where sat a cloaked man, tending to his lone fire. A crow cawed at her as she approached.

“Odin Alfather.” She greeted.

“Messiah.” He greeted back, still tending to his fire.

“I thought prophets and messiahs were a thing those southern folk use to worship… What is his name?”

“Aule, the bringer of light. And if you wanted me to use some other method you should have specified. But instead you gave your task to a woman who was raised under the tutelage of Aule. After her mother. So if you want your task done, then the northern pantheon shall have to make due with a messiah.” Veora explained dryly.

“Ah, woman of Aule, but that is why I chose you. You understand what we are up against.To know the mind of your enemy, to use their tactics against them; a true General of war must have respect for their opponent if they ever wish to understand them. I knew when I chose you that you had these qualities.”

“Is flattery why you summoned me here?” Veora looked around, the crows had multiplied.

“No. You summoned me. I am answering the call of my messiah. You paid in blood. You have my ear.”

Veora stared, worried about what that meant.

“It was just for show, I only performed a sacrifice for them to see. So they would believe you speak prophecy through me.” She pointed out.

He stared at her with his one eye.

“No ritual you do is for show, messiah.”

And she woke up.

Sitting bolt upright, Veora woke up in her bed, adrenaline shooting through her with no outlet.

She looked around, wondering if it had all been some ludicrous dream and she was a woman of 29 again.

A check in the mirror settled those thoughts and set her mind back on track. She had learned something new. Performing rituals, at least by her own hand, had an impact.

She would have to consult the books on rituals of the northern pantheon once more. Another thing to add onto her growing list of endless tasks she must complete to save her family.

The heroes in the epic tales she was fond of never had so much busywork. Bastards had it easy.

Someone had cleaned her up and changed her into her nightgown last night, this made getting ready for, what time was it? It couldn't be more than mid-morning. She could go down to breakfast, whereupon she would continue her ruse by…

-+_-+

“Well who the hell else could treachery by sea mean Sylas? I'm being serious, we need to think of someone else to pin this on. I can't stop father if…” Rhory huffed, looking around to make sure no one was near them as his voice got a little too loud.

Sylas scowled and spoke reproachfully. “Rhory, keep your voice down. The entire house can hear you”

“Father can’t stop himself either. Lord Corbray is a coastal Lord too and nobody likes the greedy bastard. Not to mention it was his dagger Vee had in her hands that has to mean something.” Rhory insisted.

“No! It doesn’t! Because nothing that happened last night makes a lick of sense!” Sylas didn’t appreciate being blindsided by Rhory first thing in the bloody morning.

He had cornered his sworn brother on the way to break their fast and they had proceeded to argue on how best to handle this all on the far end of the family dining hall. Away from Lady Rowen and Dhara, who were eating instead conspiring.

Not that either of them were being remotely subtle. Cosette couldn’t make out what was being said, but Rhory’s frantic expression and the hapless look on Sylas’ face told her all she needed to know. Last night's events had been deeply troubling, she imagined it was especially so for the ward of House Day.

Who else could Veora had been referring to? Cosette was happy to be eating alone, without Rhory or even the Lord or Lady of the house. Well, mostly alone, as young Dhara was with her.

It was a bit rude, but Lord and Lady of the castle had yet to show up, likely very busy with the other lords in their keep. Father in particular had wanted Veora's dress burned and her mare, Lady Grey, buried deep outside of the mountain. As if doing so would spare Vee of what had happened when she woke up.

“Is Vee going to wake up?”

Dhara’s voice behind him made Rhory jump and curse. He didn't know. Hadn't even considered it a possibility that she wouldn't. She had last time! So she had to, right?

But this was weirder than last time.

He looked to Sylas for an answer, overwhelmed with this new possibility.

Sylas shot Rhory a scathing glare as Dhara came over. She was, understandably, quite upset. Veora’s ten day slumber had come as a shock to the entire family, there were several days where they’d all wondered if she’d ever wake again.

All of House Grimald had breathed a sigh of relief when she did wake. The past month had felt like a dream, with a whirlwind of activity preparing for Veora’s birthday. There was something different about the girl, but Sylas had assumed it was a longer effect from her slumber.

And now, this had happened.

Damnit all, her words could only have been meant for him.

Sylas had no better answer for the child than Rhory, but he couldn’t stand to see Dhara so upset. She was his slightly less aggravating little sister after all.

He smiled. “Of course she will Dhara. We just have to be patient”

Just like last time. Who knew how long Veora would sleep this time? Two weeks, a month? Anything past that made Sylas feel sick. Almost as sick as her words last night.

Rhory’s panic was well placed, because there were few others she could’ve been referring to. Lord Corbray might’ve been a coastal lord, but it wasn’t his son being housed at Mountainkeep. The greedy rat hadn’t been a second father to anyone.

No, Sylas had called Mountainkeep his second home for ten years now. His father hadn’t made it to the banquet, but when word of this incident reached him no doubt he’d be weak with worry.

“We all need to remain calm, for Veora’s sake. We can’t jump to any conclusions.”

“Good morning Lady Rowen!” Came the devil’s radiant, tinkling voice.

Rhory would have flown into a rage had he not been stunned, mouth agape like a fish flopping in the wind. He was going to kill-

“What in the world is everyone doing over there? Neglecting my guest rudely?” Veora kept her voice light, speaking to Cosette but clearly loud enough to reach the little clique that had formed on the far end of the room.

She had used rouge to brighten up her face, but yet another plain black dress did not do her tired pallor any favors.

“Doing?!” Rhory bellowed, throwing up his arms and scoffing.

Dhara began to silently cry.

Cosette had been mid bite when she heard footsteps approaching. She assumed it was Lady Davina or Lord Grimald.

She was not prepared for Veora’s sunny greeting. She nearly choked on her food as she fixed the woman with an incredulous look. Really, up already and acting so casual! Either she had no clue as to what happened last night, or this Lady was entirely made of iron.

Sylas was as stunned as Rhory, his shock quickly turning to anger as Veora oh so flippantly dismissed them.

“We’ve been worried sick over you!”, he retorted angrily. Poor Dhara was crying quietly, Sylas placed a comforting hand on her head. When he’d promised Veora would wake, this was not how he’d expected her to act.

The air quickly grew tense, as Cosette managed to choke down the food trying to kill her.

“I…wouldn’t call this a good morning, Lady Veora”

Was she acting? Was she ignorant of what had happened? Cosette couldn’t say. But at the very least, this ordeal had made this trip infinitely more interesting.

Veora frowned, her shoulders sagging, “It can't have been ten days again, everyone is still here… I don't think I slept more than usual… Oh Dhara come here, I’m sorry for worrying you-!”

Before she could say anything else Dhara darted off at a surprisingly quick pace. Wanting nothing to do with her sister.

Sylas let her go. She didn’t need to be around to hear this. He made a mental note to check in with her later after she had a chance to calm down. Speaking of calming down…

He took a breath. “Rhory, don’t”, he warned. His words were falling onto deaf ears, and Sylas knew it.

Dhara’s rejection stung, especially since Veora knew full well she was doing this all on purpose to her loved ones. But, well, what other choice was there?

She wrung her hands nervously, looking between the three for an explanation.

“You…really do-”, Cosette began calmly, only to have Rhory cut her off. She cast him an annoyed glare as his voice became louder.

“You don't remember? You don't remember condemning Sylas yesterday? What exactly are going to do if father has to cut his head off Vee?!” Rhory, unable to hold it in any longer, began to blame his sister unfairly. Knowing it was unfair as he said it but having no one else in the room he could reasonably yell at. Why was she doing this?

“That’s enough Rhory!” Sylas snapped at his brother, but to no avail. Rhory was seeing red, understandably upset at the notion of losing someone so important.

“Why is this happening Veora, what game are you playing at? This is my sworn brother's life you are playing at you selfish little girl.” Rhory pointed accusingly at his sister.

Whose frown became more pronounced. She allows the sting of betrayal to dig deeper and make her eyes glassy. Recalling that it was her who had tried to arrange for Sylas’ escape the last time around, that upon failure it was she who dragged Rhory’s sorry self out to the courtyard so Sylas didn’t have to die alone. It was her saving the very head on his shoulders right now and it was more than Rhory had ever done for her when she was held prisoner. Her sense of self chiseled away for years on end until she was a shadow. How dare he!

Fresh tears flowed in rivulets down her cheeks before it was her turn to run out of the room. Her role was done for now, but perhaps the crying was not.

Rhory regretted what he said almost instantly, he swallowed painfully and cleared his throat, bracing himself on the wall.

Several tense moments followed, with Sylas torn as to what to do next. “Seriously Rhory”, he sighed. “That was entirely unnecessary! Dhara’s upset, Veora’s upset, how does yelling accomplish anything?!”

“Why don’t you ask yourself that Ser Day?” Cosette interjected cooly as she continued eating. She cast the two of them with a decidedly unimpressed look.

“This is a family matter, Lady Rowan. I’m sorry you’ve had to witness it. Things are, tense is all.”

“Yes well why wouldn’t they be? When your head is apparently on the line.” she sighed and rose from her chair.

“She was going to cry anyway when she found out that stupid poncy horse of hers is dead. Better she get it out now.” Rhory said weakly, shoving off the wall and sighing heavily. It was ludicrous to even mention the horse at this point. It was the least of their problems. But somehow everyone in this castle had been trained to think Veora’s biggest concerns were of the most paramount importance and he was no exception. She even slept out in the stables with her once when Lady Grey got sick.


Cosette approached the two of them, arms crossed. “I can appreciate that this is a sensitive matter between brothers. Between family. I am merely a visitor. But this sort of behavior will only make the situation worse. For Veora, for the both of you, and the rest of your family.”

She thought of poor Dhara, running off crying. The Lord and Lady of the house had to be in a tizzy as well.
Sylas scowled. “We’re well aware of that Lady Rowan.”

“Oh, are you?”, she arched an eyebrow. “Well in that case, there’s little excuse not to do better.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, off to find Veora. Even though she didn’t care one iota about how improper it was for her to be alone with both of the young lords, she had no desire to be stuck in such an awkward situation.

Better to be stuck with Veora and her theatrics.

Sylas watched her go, debating whether he was impressed by her gall, or annoyed that she was right. “Well, isn’t she just a delight.”, he spoke after a moment with a hollow chuckle. “And she’s right, which makes it all the worse.”

“Being right is easy enough when it's not you dealing with all this horse shit. Bet she wouldn't be half so calm if it were her family.” Rhory stubbornly refused to give her any credit. Upset that she was even here in the first place, along with all the other bannermen. This was all one huge mess that they had little hope in containing once they started to leave and spread wild stories they'd spun on top of the already wild truth.

“Father stopped the crows. At least nobody is going to be writing any letters about this for a few days. But we can't stop them from sending their letters from their own keeps once they leave. Loudmouths that they are.”

Not a lot of northern court gossip made its way out of the north due to its uneventful nature. The north could feel a little isolated in that regard. But that also meant that anything remotely exciting or scandalous was spread to every acquaintance no matter how obscure the relation.

This could even reach the capitol.

Once it did…there was no way of knowing how the Emperor might react.

More pressing was how Lord Grimald intended on reacting.

“Rhory, I very much doubt your father will be taking my head over your sister’s ramblings. Especially given how odd she’s been behaving.”

Ever since she’d awoken from her slumber, there had been something off. Sylas could put his finger on it, nor was it his place to comment. “I also very much doubt she’d want him to do that.”

Rhory scoffed. He had no clue what she was thinking these days. Honestly the best outcome here however was indeed that she was playing a prank on them. Not that she wasn't. He prayed that it was.

Sure the two of them weren’t close, and Sylas had helped Rhory on more than a few of his more aggravating pranks (all worth it), but there was no reason for such intense animosity.

“We do need to be prepared to address whatever fallout comes our way. And we can start…with an apology to Veora, you were a bit too harsh there. Perhaps we both were.” Sylas sighed. In truth, he was just happy she was awake.

“... Maybe when I’ve cooled off. I'm going to the training grounds. See you there later..” Rhory hadn't eaten yet, but he didn't really feel like eating either.

coded by reveriee.

 

[StarryKnights]

Leaving the dining area might’ve been the best thing to escape the awkwardness, but it did leave Cosette with one small problem.

She hadn’t the foggiest idea where Veora had run off to, and Mountainkeep was absolutely massive. Even with Veora’s extensive tour, she knew there were plenty of places the Lady could be hiding.

Not that Cosette particularly minded being on her own, hell she relished in it. When she was in the comfort of her own home, not the keep of near perfect strangers.
Here, wandering unattended would probably be seen as rather strange, given she was Veora’s guest.

Cosette didn’t intend to comb the entire castle looking for her though, and the notion of sitting in her room all day wasn’t exactly appealing. She was far too antsy and things were entirely too tense.

As she walked around the largely empty halls, Cosette remembered the training yard Veora had showed her.

With court in session she imagined it was tantalizingly empty. It might be a bit uncouth for a visiting lady to engage in combat drills while borrowing the equipment of their host, but Cosette didn’t rightly care.

Thankfully, it wasn’t particularly difficult to find the courtyard in question, and soon enough Cosette was rather content with looking over the various tools House Grimald had on offer.

She focused mainly on the bows, as she needed to know what was available to use for Veora’s lessons.

“Is she fine?” Rhory stopped a few feet behind Lady Rowen. He'd already worked up a sweat and stepped away for only a moment, to find their neglected guest here surprised him a little. He thought she'd spend all day with Veora.

Cosette paused and replaced the bow she’d been examining in its proper spot on the rack. Turning, she answered. “I wasn’t able to find her. I tried her room, the library and even circled back to the dining hall.” Blinking, she turned back to the weapons at hand, fingers sliding across the various handles and quivers at hand.

“If you are that concerned, perhaps you’ll have better luck finding her? She is your sister after all, you must know where she likes to hide.” Though Rhory might not be who she wanted to see at the moment.

He winced.

Cosette selected another bow, a fairly simple make. Suitable for a beginner, she made a mental note to have Veora try it when lessons began.

She set it aside and selected another bow, larger in size, and smiled. “These are all expertly maintained. Not that I expected anything less.”

She assumed a shooting position, easily pulling the bow string back to its full length. She frowned, noting how easy the maneuver was. Careful to avoid dry firing, she relaxed her stance and replaced the bow where she’d found it.

“I don’t suppose you could point out something in the 75 to 80 pound range? If I’m going to practice I’d like a bit of a challenge.”

His brow raised, but not doubting what he'd already heard from Veora’s impression of Cosette, Rhory went to another rack and pulled one off.

“I thought it was considered uncouth for southern ladies to know this sort of thing? Aren't they all gentle and delicate? At least that's what Vee says.” He asked while getting a better look at her bearing.

Rhory had never seen eyes that color on a person let alone on a lady, were ladies supposed to have eyes like wolves? She really might bite him if he said the wrong thing.

Cosette took the bow in question, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment before testing it out. Her stance was impeccable as she once again tested her mettle against the bow’s draw weight.

She cast Rhory a sidelong glance, amber eyes slightly narrowed before she settled on a target in the distance. “Most are yes. But I do not aspire to fit such a mold.”

She lowered the bow and continued rather sarcastically “I’m sorry if that doesn’t sit well with you. I can always recommend one of my elder sisters if you’d prefer a more proper wife.”

In Rhory's opinion it seemed more like he didn't sit well with her.

He wasn’t really under the impression that it mattered much what either of them really wanted though. Maybe to a certain degree, since it wasn't exactly expedient he marry, but if for whatever reason that changed he didn't think for a second that he'd be allowed to refuse.

She flashed a teasing smirk before reaching for a nearby quiver full of practice arrows. She nocked it with ease and assumed a shooting stance once again.

This time she followed through, releasing the arrow with a satisfying twang. It flew straight and true, and sank deep into the far target. It was just shy of a bullseye. Cosette frowned.

“Hmm, let's try that again.”

Rhory whistled in admiration, continuing to watch her. Noticing her form was well practiced.

“You're not in the south Lady Rowan. Perhaps you might fit in here better than you think?” He pointed out, walking back towards the racks to pick a bow and quiver of his own.

“Northern women have to be of a hardier ilk, winters are harsh up here.” Rhory continued once back. Deciding to show off by shooting an arrow into her target.

“Oh, a show off are we?” Cosette arched an eyebrow as Rhory casually shot an arrow through her mark. His words did give her some pause. Whether she liked it or not, if their marriage was arranged Cosette would have little choice but to accept. To refuse would utterly shame her house and family.

The north had proven to be far more engaging then she’d anticipated. Between Veora’s strange request, and her outburst, this visit was something she’d remember for years to come. Plus, the mountains did remind her of home.

She hadn’t given much thought to a serious future here, but maybe…just maybe she could consider it.

“Hmm. Perhaps”, she spoke, nocking another arrow. “I’m no stranger to harsh winters”. She took aim and fired, this time hitting the target dead center. “I suspect this land would be hard pressed to surprise me…its people on the other hand.”

She looked at Rhory, head cocked to the side. He was a lot less standoffish today, she supposed the notion of an impending proposal was far less troubling then the forecasted doom Veora had shared.

Still, Cosette was always up for a challenge, so long as the reward interested her. “It’s your shot”

Rhory caught himself staring and picked an arrow, quickly nocking it back and shooting it at his target. Hitting the edge.

“Hm. You haven't had the smoothest visit that's for sure. Although it hasn't been all bad, surely, you're not half a bad dancer.” The feast had been nice before it's abrupt end, at least for him.

He'd been a little awkward, unsure of what Lady Rowan wanted but he'd at least been attentive. And she danced with more than just him.

The dance hadn’t been nearly as exciting for Cosette as it had been for Rhory. She disliked being in crowds of people, and dancing. Though he was right, she wasn’t half bad at it. None of her partners had been terrible either.

In fact, all she’d spoken and danced with had been fairly polite and courteous, more so than those she interacted with back home. Only a handful were standoffish, Rhory notwithstanding. Cosette wasn’t used to such…welcoming behavior. It had been a bit unnerving. But nowhere near as unpleasant as she’d thought it would be.

“I’ve traveled to many southern and coastal courts. This has been by far, the least insufferable outing I’ve had. And that does include Veora’s strange behavior.” Cosette had no real frame of reference for what she assumed was a nervous breakdown.

Another arrow flew, splitting Rhory’s last shot cleanly down the middle.

“It seems we are a fair match…as far as archery is concerned.”

Perhaps they could be a match in other ways? Only time would tell.
-++-

With Rhory cooling off, Sylas set out to work some damage control. He first tracked down the upset Dhara, he had a soft for the rambunctious girl and hated seeing get so upset. She and Veora often butted heads, as Dhara was rather proud to be Veora’s polar opposite.

But she was still a child, and while she had slept through the worst of the night’s events, there was no shortage of gossip to catch her up.

Dhara, who was whacking a column in the stables, didn't hear Sylas approaching, and just kept whacking with her wooden sword. A thing that she often did when she was upset. She was no longer crying, but scowling, and embarrassed that she had cried at all.

“Stupid Veora!” She huffed after a particularly mean whack.

Finding Dhara wasn’t particularly difficult. One only needed to follow the steady sound of wood crashing together.

For a moment, Sylas merely observed, casually leaned against one of the support beams.

“Form’s off a bit there love”, he smiled. Feisty as ever, even when upset. That was Dhara.

“Sylas!” Dhara whirled around, not really angry at him but angry in general.

“What is Vee getting at?! They say you'll lose your head because of what she said. That Odin’s going to take her away to marry. He can have her but they can't take your head just because she's fainting all over the place.” Dhara pointed at the sky with her sword, as if accusing Odin himself.

“I don’t think she meant any harm, Dhara” Sylas sighed. So the gossip was already making its rounds. “No one is coming for my head, and no one is taking Veora away”

He glanced up to the sky, chuckling.

“How could any being, God or not, think to do such a thing when we have you here?”, he teased. “The All Father himself would quake at the sight of your might”

“I said I don't care if he takes her away, she's been acting weird anyway. She just smiles at us whenever we poke at her now, and she's always in black.” Dhara was extremely put off by the fact that her sister wouldn't engage in their usual relationship anymore. She didn't know what to make of it.

“I put a snake in her drawer a week ago and she hasn't said a word about it.” She placed her hands on her hips, pouting.

“It’s like she doesn't care anymore!” Dhara was feeling pushed to the side, even more like a child in comparison to her older sister than she was. It was frustrating.

Dhara was right, Veora had been rather distant as of late. Ever since she’d woken from her ten day slumber, it was like her mind was always preoccupied. All that compounded with her episode last night had Sylas worried.

“I know love. She has been…more frustrating than usual.”

And that was certainly saying something. He placed a hand on her head, smiling. “Veora’s mood swings have no bearing on my fate, or yours. As for your little prank…” He shrugged. “Clearly we just need to find a bigger snake.”

He tousled Dhara’s hair. “Don’t worry yourself over the gossip, we’re all going to be just fine.”

“If you say so Sy…” Dhara said skeptically, determined this time to find a bigger snake.

 

[The Witch Son]

Lady

;; veora

By the time Veora had reached her destination, her tears had dried up and she reached a much more familiar emotion to her. A cold wash of calm numbness.

Her old companion.

It was difficult, nigh impossible really, to keep up the appearance of the version of herself she was when she was 19. Usually happy and friendly, open, and lighthearted. She shared her mind far more freely and smiled far more easily.

But Veora just wasn't her anymore. She'd become hard and inscrutable, like ice. She wasn't even her old self before she'd become that. Before that came the meek and silent, a shadow, a humble mouse.

So pretending to be her 19 year old self was an uphill battle that she realized she'd have to cheat at. Rely on familiarity and chalk up her changes to the dramatic visions she would pretend she was plagued with.

It would have to do, at first, later she could stop once everyone adjusted to the idea of taking her more seriously. As more than just the voice of a little girl. After all she had a dying religion to revive as well as a home to safeguard.

The archives of the Mountainkeep were held deep in the Mountain’s cavernous and winding halls down below. It required candlelight to see and was rarely cleaned of its dust, simply because it was hardly used.

The library located in the third tower was much more cozy a place. But hardly remote and secretive.

Veora had cleaned off a bench located near the fireplace in the archives and dusted off texts as she used them. Down here is where she kept all of her notes and by the fire she studied and wrote and schemed.

Nobody had disturbed her quiet as of yet and she was well practiced at lighting the fireplace on her own. It had been one of her many duties as Emperor Tristan’s tent maid. Who knew it would be so useful now?

Veora located the hidden journal she wrote her timeline in and retrieved the religious text she had perused before. On the bench was already parchment and ink.

She had already written several letters that needed to be sent at opportune times and placed them in the folds of her journal. But not all of them should be sent by her. Another parchment was a proposal towards granting Lord Bracken’s bastard son, Erik, legitimacy as a Lord in his own right and a keep that needed rebuilding.

There were a few keeps in disrepair from the rebellion of House Day that had been neglected and abandoned and the north needed to be whole for the trying times to come. Who better to help make it whole than her rescuer that she never fully repaid?

She didn't know if it would be enough, a Lordship and his own keep and the favor and aid of House Grimald, but she would be damned if she were to not at least try to repay him for all he did. For all he would never do this time.

Her poor Erik. She would make sure his new life would be prosperous. And that he'd hopefully be alive long enough to enjoy it.

-+-+-

After sending Dhara on her way, Sylas resolved to find the more troublesome of the Grimald sisters. Vee’s strange behavior predated her episode last night. Ever since she’d woke from that strange slumber, she had been acting different. It was as Dhara said. She was colder, more distant.

Usually such behavior was reserved for the silent treatment following a particularly bad prank or argument.

He thought back to that unnatural slumber which had overtaken Veora. The stars streaked across the sky for the entire time, adding to the uneasiness of the ordeal. And now, she was having prolific visions spurred by the gods of old.

As a lover of history, and a descendent of a prolific scholar, Sylas found these incidents far more intriguing then he did threatening. As unnerving Veora’s episode had been, there was no credible reason to take her words seriously.

More so if she had no memory of the event. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself as he searched Mountainkeep for Veora.

Surely Lord Giles would never place such stock in such ramblings. Not when hasty action could cause an all out war.

He shuddered to think what his father might do if Sylas were to lose his head unjustly.

Pushing those unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind, Sylas wandered through Mountainkeep looking for Veora. She wasn’t in the usual places, which only added to the strangeness.

She often retreated to her room, the library or rarely the stables. But she was in none of these places, which sent Sylas into far older corners of the keep.

Built into a literal mountain, there were miles of tunnels beneath the keep, many of which led to older, rarely visited wings. One such wing housed the archives of Mountainkeep, a long-winded written record of the history of the land and Empire as a whole.

Sylas hadn’t expected to find Veora there, given one had to go out of their way to grab a candle to navigate. Yet, as he approached, he could hear the crackling of a fire, and see its glow out in the stone hallway.

“Vee?”, he called somewhat uncertainly before walking into the room. There she was, sitting beside the fireplace. It looked like she was writing something.
At the very least, she seemed far less upset. So that was something.

Instead of answering, Veora slowly closed the journal she had opened and calmed her heart. She'd thought she might have been discovered by someone this all was much more difficult to explain to. Someone she had less sway over and was likely to take all she had written and read it.

Like her father.

But it was just Sylas, and Sylas had always been respectful when not accompanied by her brother. He seemed to be bound by the same social rules she was, and observed them in a way that kept the both of them safe from untoward speculation.

She'd always been a little jealous of that, that he never had to do such a thing with Dhara. Young as she was. But then again, when you factor in a girlish crush she had a lifetime ago perhaps being relegated to the role of little sister might've been too painful.

“Sylas… what are you doing here?” She asked neutrally, neither accusatory or unwelcome.

Sylas stepped further into the room, taking care to maintain a respectful distance. He caught a glimpse of her journal as she closed it, but was unable to make out any lettering on the various pieces of paper.

“Just checking on you. Rhory was a proper ass earlier. And…you really did frighten us last night.” He was cautious about mentioning too much about the feast, as it was still unclear whether or not she remembered anything.

As it was, following after her wasn’t the most proper choice of action. But Sylas had spent half his life with the Grimald family, and all of them held a degree of sway over his heart.

So, he couldn’t quite bring himself to ignore how upset she’d been.

“Oh…” Veora looked down, seeming perfectly contrite.

“I thought it had been a dream. The others were.” She fiddled with her quill.

“Just some awful stupid dream I had that I didn't need to fuss over that's all. But everyone is so angry now. I ruined the feast and scared everyone. Sorry.” I had a dream was so much easier to explain than the convoluted series of events that led her here. And seemed the work of some prophet more than a woman who made a pact with an old god.

Sylas arched an eyebrow. “A dream?”, he scoffed. “If those are the sort of dreams you're having, I’d hate to see your nightmares”. Given last night's events were not a dream, she was being awfully calm. “You realize what you did last night then?”

She nodded, not elaborating that her previous life had indeed been a nightmare.

Her strange behavior continued to perplex him. “We’re less concerned about your feast and more concerned about you. Even if Rhory only shows it with shouting.”

“He's worried about you too, aren't you worried about you Sylas?” She asked, stepping carefully. If she wanted to turn this conversation around she'd have to play to his fear. Everyone was concerned about their own heads weren’t they?

Sylas sighed. “If your father is paranoid enough to have me killed over your supposed dreamt up ramblings, then he is a fool.” It was a bit crass to say as much out loud, but Lord Giles was fairly even headed. Sylas had little doubt that if his father were to turn against the Empire again, he’d be killed without a moment's hesitation.

Hopefully quickly, but that was beside the point. He crossed his arms, regarding her rather skeptically. “Do you think your father is that much of a fool? I’m sure he’s more worried about quelling the rumors than my head.”

Is that what they were thinking? Veora internally scoffed, cold washing over her head and heart.

That Sylas would lose his life because of her words? How ironic, but she could see the reason why from their perspective, not knowing what she knew. That a letter signed with the Emperor's signature and bearing his seal would arrive in a little under a few weeks.

Veora’s twiddling with her quill slowed as she contemplated what to say, studying Sylas like he were an arithmetic problem.

Sylas tilted his head to the side, a frown coming to his face. “You're certain you are alright? I know that Lady Gray meant a great deal to you. She was your pride and joy. You’d always dote on her. Braiding her hair, making sure she got to graze on the freshest of pastures.”

He met her gaze. “Feeding her sugar cubes. You’d always go to the kitchen to grab them.”

Veora dropped the quill posthumously, getting up slowly and holding his gaze coldly before retrieving her journal and flipping it open to the letter he needed to send his parents.

“Father isn't going to take your head because of my ramblings Sylas, he's going to save it because of my ramblings. When that letter arrives damning you to die you'll be thanking me.” She shut the journal when she found it and walked over to him.

“But I don't need your thanks Ser Day. I need you to send this letter to your parents.” She handed it to him, it wasn't sealed, he was free to read it. It described a suggestion to sail southwestward further than they ever had before. That they would find a people there whose language they didn't know, but so long as they came in peace and offered trade they would find the trip well worth it. It included descriptions of crops they should bring over that were easy to grow, more valuable than any gold, and that in exchange for this information they were to share those crops with House Grimald.

“Father will uplift the ban on sending letters from our rookery soon enough, after the envoys from Upsala arrive. Send it then.” She all but ordered.

Ah, it seemed he’d struck a nerve. It was actually refreshing to see some of Veora’s usual spunk. Though he didn’t appreciate being spoken to in such a manner.

“You're being awfully defensive Veora. And…demanding.”

Nothing she said made a lick of sense, the same could be said for the letter she demanded he mail. Not that he could at the moment, what with the ban on all outgoing post.

Of course, Veora presented a solution to that as well, claiming very matter of factly said ban would be over in a few days.

“How on earth could you know that Vee? None of this makes a lick of sense, and you know it.”

He folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. He had little intent to have it mailed off. “You want me to send my parents off to some god forsaken island? You-”

Veora folded her hands and waited patiently for him to get it all out. Because he would be sending that letter after she was proved right.

He paused and took a breath. He was getting upset, and yelling wasn’t going to help anything. “...You don’t know what you're asking. I won’t be doing that. And I won’t be entertaining any more of your delusions.”

“I'm asking House Day to help save itself. If they don't want to starve when the dark comes and blots out the sky then you'll send that letter. Take your time and wait and see if I did indeed save your head if you must. But you'll send that letter because you want to save your family.” She said matter of factly.

It was true she had no idea what she was asking with regards to voyages that may never make it. That slow starvation at sea was a fear every voyage with no chartable course had. But she also knew that they were successful at some point in the future. And it would be better for countless if they were successful much earlier.

“You'll know I’m right in a little under a couple of weeks. And maybe then my nightmarish delusions will be harder to ignore for you.”

She turned from him, going back to her work.

“You can leave now, I have preparations to complete.”

Sylas grit her teeth, opened his mouth and then closed it again. He then took another deep breath.

“...I do not know what has gotten into you as of late Veora, but whatever it is. It is unbecoming of you. Last night’s episode…all these dire predictions. This isn’t you… Veora.”

He stalked out of the room, not wanting to argue any further. His attempts at doing what he felt was right had only served to anger him more.

Rhory had the right idea, heading to the training ground.

coded by reveriee.

 

[StarryKnights]

Nothing could’ve prepared Sylas for the arrival of the post a couple of weeks later.

Envoys from Upsala did indeed arrive, sent for by Lord Grimald as a means to quell his bannermen. He expected them to intimidate his daughter into confessing that she was acting out. Prove in some way that she falsely invoked Odin and that nothing involving gods was taking place here. But instead after one meeting with Veora they told the nobles that they were to wait for two weeks.

Lord Grimald could not hold all of the bannermen of the north in Mountainkeep for two weeks against their will.

The ban on communication or travel out of the castle was lifted and rather than stay about half of them left immediately. The other half were too curious to leave. They wanted to know what the weir witches from Upsala would rule on the situation at the end of the given two weeks.

Still fuming over his encounter with Veora, Sylas had made it a point to avoid her as much as possible. That wasn’t particularly difficult, given the two of them weren’t supposed to spend extended time together.

Plus, with Lady Rowan on sight, Veora had plenty to keep herself occupied. Cosette spent most of her time with Veora, as that was the expected outcome. She didn’t have much to do in Mountainkeep without being accompanied by one of her hosts.

And since spending extended time with Rhory would’ve been wildly inappropriate, this meant Cosette spent much of her time with Lady Veora.

Mercifully, Veora wasn’t nearly as shallow or dull as many of the nobles Cosette had been stuck with. She got a major kick out of instructing her in the art of archery as well, it wasn’t often she got to share her less than conventional pastimes with others.

It also served as a lovely distraction from her conversation with Rhory. The lord to be’s words had certainly struck a chord with Cosette. She’d never thought she could belong in any court, let alone one as prestigious as House Grimald. But as Rhory said…ladies up north were a different breed.
It certainly gave her something else to consider, outside of her tentative plans to simply waste away in House Rowan until Sylvie passed on. Weakened from her bout with the plague, Cosette knew it was only a matter of time before her sister passed. She’d likely never marry, or bear children. Two things Sylvie had always wanted. Two things Cosette had never imagined for herself.

Yet her time at Mountainkeep was fairly…enjoyable, all things considered.

At least, it was up until the post finally arrived.

It was a tense day for Sylas, who made it a point not to mail the letter Veora had drafted. He couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it away either. Instead, he’d scan it over and over on his own time, contemplating all that Veora had said.

How her words would spare his life, and the ruin she’d promised would come if he didn’t obey.

She was somehow more vexing now then she had been prior to her slumber, and Sylas couldn’t understand why. Nor could he understand why she’d willingly kill her favorite horse and then lie about it. There was no logical explanation which brought Sylas any sense of peace. He even felt nervous, receiving an additional letter from his father mere days before everything came crashing down.

He’d barely picked up the courage to read it before being summoned.

Lord Grimald called court again, and announced before everyone that a missive from the Emperor had arrived, his signature and seal authentic as far as they could tell.

“The Emperor informs me that House Day has rebelled, and as keeper of their peace, I am to execute my ward, Ser Sylas Day.” Murmurs erupted in the court hall, he slammed his hand on the table and rose up. Silence followed.

Up at the high table, Sylas maintained a level of calm he hadn’t thought he was capable of. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep his composure. He didn’t care if that letter was sent by Odin himself, it was filled with naught but lies. His father was in no position to declare war upon the Empire. Nor would he be so callous as to forsake his only child.

By the grace of the Gods, it appeared Lord Grimald held his own doubts. All eyes remained on the Lord as he continued.

“In light of the events two weeks ago. I have sent an envoy to House Day and to the capitol to report to me if such a thing is the truth. No action will be taken until this is confirmed.” He stated.

Sylas allowed himself a sigh of relief, though the moment was short lived. He suppressed an eye roll and groan as the debate began. A debate over his very life.

“House Day has been looking for ways to make themselves independent since the day they rebelled and losing the war quelled them not!” Shouted Lord Corbray.

He sees an opportunity to hold the only port on the west for miles, and he wants revenge for how hard the rebellion hit his House. Veora thought to herself from her seat at the very end of the table, next to Rhory. Expressionless.

Doddering fool simply wants vengeance, Sylas thought, knowing full well that Corbray’s land had been ravaged during House Day’s initial rebellion. An unfortunate cost of his father’s vision.

“SPURIOUS!” Shouted Rhory, bolting up and nearly knocking down his chair.

“ENOUGH.” Bellowed Lord Grimald. Ending the argument before it got too far.

Rhory remained standing. Sylas wanted nothing more than to shout his agreement. But doing so would only make matters worse for him. For both of them honestly.

“If I may, my lord.” Lord Albion stood up politely, asking in the correct way to speak before his liege lord and the court.

“Let's hear it.” Lord Grimald had absolutely no intention of hearing anyone out on his decision, but better he shoot down a level headed and well liked man like Lord Albion than allow chaos to erupt.

“The Emperor may see the delay of his justice being carried out as rebellion in and of itself. We might spare young Ser Day some time but damn ourselves in the process. Only to elongate what is surely a painful and anxious time for him. Best to be quick about it then torture a noble man by dangling his death before him.” Lord Albion spoke from a place of reason and as well as sympathy.

It took all his effort to suppress an eyeroll. Oh, I’d prefer the anxiety to being dead, you bastard. Keep your half hearted sympathy. Sylas could barely contain his contempt.

Veora knew this to be false concern. As Lord Albion was firmly in the Lord Chancellor's pocket. A shock to her when she found out, all those years ago, as Lord Albion was a well respected bannerman in the north.

He was promised the stewardship of it, but then the Lord Chancellor died and he lost his bid to the war hero Erik.

Veora enjoyed his execution.

Lady Dustin shot up, staring at her liege lord.

“Lady Dustin?” Lord Grimald gave his permission for her to speak.

“Your Lordships are aware, surely, how utterly foolish it would be to ignore a warning from the Alfather Odin!” She said, offended already of what would be the next reply.

Sylas winced. Enacting the name of the Old Gods in his defense fed right into Veora’s prophetic vision.

“Forgive me, Lady Dustin, but I do not believe that any southerner would respect or recognize our old ways. They will hardly-” Lord Albion began, cut off by Lady Dustin.

“As though we should give a damn what some southerner thinks of our ways, old and true as they are!” She shouted over him. Earning a ‘here here!’ and grunts of approval from the room.

“That is your Emperor, my ladyship, like it or not.” Lord Albion shot back.

“Our rituals go neglected, we are called heathens, an-!”

“We should deal with the world the way it is, not the way we wish it to be Lady Dustin.” Piped up Lord Corbray.

“And even if this news is not true, and House Day has not rebelled, what do we do about an Emperor that clearly wants us to execute Ser Day!” Lord Albion pointed out.

Internally, Sylas balked. The notion that the emperor himself had chosen him to die was absurd. Without a proper rebellion from House Day, there was no reason for the emperor to despise him.

On and on it went, back and forth. For Sylas it felt like an eternity. Contingents formed, points were made, sometimes poorly. Veora was smeared several times as only a little girl despite being of marriageable age. Only one scuffle broke out, one challenge to a duel was given, and at the end of it Lord Grimald had had enough.

He'd allowed the discussion to tire itself out before calling everyone to attention once more.

“My decision is final, we will make sure of what is reported before acting. And if House Day has not rebelled as this missive says then my ward lives.” Lord Grimald commanded.

Veora breathed a sigh of relief. As did Sylas. No one was coming for his head today. Despite the best efforts of some of the lords.

The entire process left his head spinning. A false accusation of rebellion, sent via a letter from the south. It all matched Veora’s outburst so perfectly, he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d been so certain. Sylas couldn’t stomach the notion that Veora had been a part of this insidious conspiracy.

But what other options were there? That she truly had received a vision from Odin himself?

Somehow, that concept struck Sylas as more favorable.

_+_+

Cosette was not expected nor permitted to be present during the court proceedings. A fact she was thankful for, as there were few things more dull than spending hours upon end seated in a committee, debating matters that meant little to her.

Though she wondered what the issue was at hand today, as it seemed everyone had been called to attend the morning’s session. With Lady Veora preoccupied, Cosette once again found she’d been left to her own devices.

Not wanting to be sucked into the sewing circle Lady Davina was hosting, Cosette made a strategic and swift retreat outside. It might’ve been a bit rude, dodging spending time with the Lady of the house, but Cosette would’ve rather stabbed her fingers with sewing needles then engage in the idle gossip that was no doubt swirling through those conversations.

Or maybe they were sitting in utter silence? She doubted Davina would want to listen to the rumors already swirling about Veora. Either way, a walk outside was infinitely preferable.

So, outside she went…accompanied by the ever annoying Viktor. It seemed Lottie was busy that morning, leaving Cosette under her knight’s watchful, and oh so stupid eye.

“I hear that her head spun around!”

“Oh Viktor”, Cosette rubbed her eyes. “Please. I’m trying to enjoy my walk. I do not care to listen to whatever nonsense has traveled about regarding the banquet.”

“Oh come now Lady Cosette. You were there, you saw everything. So…did her head spin around?”

By all that was sacred, she’d make it through this walk without a headache. “No.”

“Ah dammit all!.”

She rolled her eyes, wondering who he’d bet with to be so upset over such news. As the pair walked, the sounds of what might’ve been a struggle could be heard in the distance. Either that, or a worker was repairing something. There was a steady twack as something was getting hit.

Intrigued, Cosette ventured closer, with her muscle head of a knight following close behind. It seemed to be coming from the stables.

Rounding a corner, the pair found that it wasn’t a fight, or some wayward worker.

It was a rather feisty looking Dhara, who was beating a wooden post like it owed her something. The sight brought a small smile to Cosette’s face. Such ferocity would make her a fine fighter yet.

“Ah, the younger sister, Dhara, correct?” Cosette spoke up, head tilted curiously to the side. “Practicing for your bout as a shield maiden?”

Cosette was vaguely aware of the old traditions still upheld in many parts of the north, such practices were all but forgotten further south. The Old Gods and the faith and practices which surrounded them had been abandoned. Which made Veora’s behavior all the more intriguing for the southern noble..

Dhara ceased her whacking to pause, searching for her intruder before seeing it to be Lady Rowan. She scowled at her.

“Don't be stupid Lady Rowan, there hasn't been any shield maidens in fifty years.” She didn't care if she was being rude, she just also didn't care to entertain some southern Lady either.

And besides, her stupid dreams of reinciting a troupe of shield maids were stupid and it wasn't going to happen.

WHACK. She resumed her whacking.

Cosette wasn’t super familiar with the legends, but shield maidens were one legend she distinctly remembered. Her Uncle Claude used to joke that had she been born up north, Cosette’s ferocity would’ve made her a fine choice for one.

“Would you like to practice with something other than a post?”

“My Lady!”, Viktor interjected. Cosette waved him off. “Please. It’s all in good fun.”

The whacking paused.

“Don't you have to do whatever your fathead knight says?” Dhara tested the waters. Veora loved tales of knights. So naturally Dhara had decided to hate them. Certain ones like her brothers were exceptions.

Cosette arched an eyebrow. “This fool?”, she gestured to Viktor. “He couldn’t order me about if he tried. Which…for the most part, he doesn’t.”

“Lady Rowan!” Viktor objected once again, this time more hurt than anything.

“See, he’s a sensitive soul. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, certainly doesn’t have the gall to give me orders. In fact.”
She looked at Viktor. “I think you should head back to your bunk. I’m certain that Dhara here will be of no threat to me, so long as I avoid one of those powerful swings.”

She chuckled as Viktor grasped at a response. Finally after several moments the knight sighed in defeat. “Don’t do anything reckless Lady Rowan. It wouldn’t do if you injured someone while we are visiting.”

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Honestly that happened one time. And the stuffy noble brat had asked for his beating.
The fool deserved it for trying to best her mock combat. Poor sod hadn’t held a sword a day in his life.

“At any rate, if you can find me a practice sword, then I can give you a proper opponent. That sound fair to you?”

“... Sure, there's plenty in the training yard. Hopefully it's not crowded again.” Dhara grumbled. She'd all been kicked out of it since all the other noble families arrived. There was always a bunch of teenage boys there now and Dhara wasn't formally trained like they were. All she could do was watch and be made fun of and get frustrated and try to mimic them later. A vicious and annoying cycle.

 

[The Witch Son]

A circled crowd had formed in the training yard, jeering as the duel, or rather soar because they were not allowed to duel, raged on.

Rhory ducked and side stepped and Lord Corbray aggressively attacked.

The most annoying thing about the coastal lord undoubtedly was that he was irritatingly good at swordplay. He had to be, what with the amount of people he'd pissed off in his life.

But a Great House had the benefit of the best money could buy, the best tutorship in every subject. An annoying advantage to a man who relied on experience. As Rhory was holding his own, and perhaps even stood a chance of beating the man.

The clang of steel attracted the approaching Dhara and she ran to see what the fuss was about, abandoning Cosette and shoving with her elbows into the crowd to get to the front.

Rhory's leg got swept out from under him and he landed hard in the dirt, an amputating blow if their swords were sharpened.

Still, this wasn't a real battle and the rules were different. Rhory blocked from the ground and shot up with all the advantage of youth. Attacking aggressively to regain momentum.

Until the next standstill ended in a draw.

They were the both of them ready to continue, but the master of arms called them both off, reminding them that they were pushing it by sparring at all when their liege lord forbade them to duel.

Sweaty and bruised, both men conceded and shook hands. A little more begrudgingly impressed with each other than they meant to be.

Cosette was initially disappointed to find the training yard was in use. However the ongoing event was far more intriguing than any playful sparring Cosette might’ve engaged in with Dhara.

It seemed the court session had finally let out, as Rhory was facing off against a Lord who Cosette couldn’t place.

Despite her father’s best efforts, her lack of interest in all things political meant she barely bothered to learn the names of the ten noble families, let alone the various bannermen who served said houses.

Rhory’s skill was undeniable, even in the face of an older and more experienced opponent. Cosette found all too often that most noble men who studied the sword didn’t take it particularly seriously. This was not the case here, even as Rhory was swept off his feet he maintained composure, rising once again and attacking with increased vigor.

Dammit all, Cosette couldn’t help but be a bit impressed and it showed with the smile on her face. The match came to an end with a rather begrudging handshake. The crowd began to disperse as both fighters backed down.

Cosette lingered still, never mind the fact that staying to chat with Rhory…alone, was rather forward. Or at least, she would’ve been alone, had it not been for Viktor.

“That was impressive”, the knight commented with an affirming nod.

“Thanks Ser Viktor!” Rhory smiled lopsidedly, honestly he'd wanted to spar this man too, in a much less pointedly aggressive way, to test southern steel.

“A stunning observation Viktor. Didn’t I tell you to shove off?” Cosette glared at the man. “I do not need a chaperone, given the present company.”

“But Lady Ro-” Viktor thought better of his next comment, as Cosette’s amber eyes narrowed dangerously.

“...I shall return shortly to escort you back to your quarters.” Viktor gave a slight bow before joining the dispersing crowd.

Soon, the majority of onlookers had dispersed, and Cosette suddenly realized that she, in fact, didn’t know what the hell she ought to say at that moment.

“That was an impressive set Ser Rhory”, she stepped toward the man, arms crossed. Right, flattery. Always a good go to option.

“Though it seemed rather…intense for a mere sparring match.”

“Cause it wasn't.” Huffed Rhory. Wiping his hands on a kerchief.

“I challenged Lord Corbray to a duel, father forbade it, but he never forbade us from sparring.” He smirked.

Ah, quite the work around then. Cosette blinked. “And why would you want to duel this Lord Corbray in the first place?” Seemed like a strange thing to risk if his father had specifically forbade it.


Not that Cosette had any room to talk there, she regularly refused her father’s wishes. It wasn’t as if he’d do anything about it.

“He’s an ass.” Rhory shrugged, unsure how much he should tell her, but really it's not as if the whole castle wasn't going to be discussing it. So she might as well hear the truth of it.

“The missive from the Emperor that arrived, father ruled that envoys should be sent to House Day and to the capitol to make sure of the news. Honestly I thought Veora was going mad but there'd be no reason to doubt the word of the Emperor had she not had her… vision I guess.” He seemed uncomfortable with the concept because he very much was. He was raised under the same religion as the south, for his mother was a great believer in the word of Aule. Not that he was particularly religious anyway but still.

Cosette’s eyes widened. “I…didn’t think those sorts of things happened in this day and age…”

The implication was clear. Were Sylas unjustly killed it would mean all out war. Thankfully, Lord Grimald had opted to confirm the truth of the matter before acting rashly.

“So father wants to make sure, but some of the Lords think otherwise. Lord Corbray’s port was hit hard by House Day during the rebellion as he's closest to them and it's obvious he's still sore about that. But being sore about a war that was ten years ago isn't an excuse to hurt someone innocent of all that. Sylas was just a boy when his parents rebelled.” He explained.

“Well, that's a good enough reason for a thrashing.” She chuckled. News that Veora’s prophetic vision had come true, that treacherous news from the south had come to condemn Sylas was far more troubling.

Though Veora’s vision being behind that was rather curious. “You don’t think your father would’ve verified things without Veora’s…episode?” She frowned. “That seems rather cutthroat. Letters can always be forged, even letters from the Emperor.”

“A fake retinue to send a fake missive from the Emperor with his seal on it? I'm sorry but how in the world would anyone even accomplish that? Nobody but the Emperor has access to his seal. And father is familiar with his signature anyways it's not like he wouldn't recognize a fake.” Rhory said condescendingly. Offended that she was suggesting his father was rash.

Cosette froze as Rhory turned his ire on her, immediately regretting initiating this entire conversation. Instantly realizing her mistake, having overstepped yet another boundary she was too daft to recognize. Now flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger, her gaze shifted to the ground. Rhory’s tirade continued.

“Do you know how many people would lose their heads upon discovery? At least all of his chamberlains, some of his guard, maybe even the Lord Chancellor himself! For how else could a retinue make it out of the capitol without his orders? That'd be suicidal. And to what end? House Day wouldn’t win any rebellion they took up again.” He shook his head and waved her off.

“It's not like your father goes around ignoring missives from the Emperor, risking his own people in the process. The man is as selfish a Lord kiss-ass as they come. Father is taking a rather big risk, even though he and the Emperor are close, to exercise all possibilities in the name of justice.” He plowed on, heated. Did she not understand the trouble they could all be in?

Silently she cursed herself, she’d gone and grown complacent in a matter of weeks. One oddly pleasant conversation over some blasted archery practice had gone and gotten her somewhat comfortable. Well, that was her mistake. She wouldn’t make it twice. Her expression hardened, amber eyes narrowing as she managed to meet Rhory’s gaze.

Rhory was clearly upset over everything, which was only natural given the circumstance. Logically, he was merely lashing out due to a mix of frustration and exasperation. Cosette had crossed a line. Logically it made sense for him to be angry over it. Logic rarely dictated one’s emotional response.

“Right. My apologies Ser Rhory. It seems for a moment, I forgot that, as the daughter of a self important and impressively disinterested lord, that I’m not meant to actually voice my incredibly foolish thoughts.”

“Oh don't be like that.” Rhory scoffed, “You're not soft.” He crossed his arms.

Cosette felt her cheeks burn as she looked away, a mix of anger and seething resentment washing over her. She knew it was foolish to feel this way, in the wake of the seriousness of the issue at hand. Knowing this did little to ease her irritation.

“It wasn’t my intent to belittle your father’s actions. I simply don’t understand why we’re meant to prioritize our loyalty to the crown than to our own family, blood or otherwise. But as you so graciously pointed out, it's not as if my family has had to make such drastic decisions. Or any drastic decisions for that matter.”

She scoffed. “Five years of a horrid plague, losing three children while still being stuck with the least consequential and most troublesome daughter? ”, she gestured to herself. “Countless citizens dead and suffering while the crown doesn’t lift a finger. Oh, my poor foolish father. He’s never had a day of worry in his life!”

It wasn’t a truly fair comparison, and her father could be a vain pain in the ass. But Cosette resented the implication that her people had never known hardship. It was a petty and immature sentiment.

She huffed and turned away. “Well, I wouldn’t want to continue to impede your thoughts on such a serious matter. So, I’ll take my leave.” She stalked off, not bothering to hear a response. Not that she expected one.

Blast it all, why did she always do this!?

“Don't you dare judge the steward of the north when you don't understand what a ward is or even what a damn missive from the gods damn Emperor himself is!” Rhory shouted at deaf ears meanly. Kicking at dirt uselessly at her lack of response.

He grumbled and whirled around, realizing everyone was staring. Everyone in the training yard had seen that disaster and a few were laughing.

Dhara came up to him and whacked his shin unexpectedly.

“Since you chased off my sparring partner, you have to spar me.”

“Fine, fine. Just don't tell Vee I pissed off Lady Rowan.” Rhory rubbed his shin, the little twerp hit far too hard with that thing. He was regretting having it made for her birthday.

“You sure Odin won't tell her anyway?”

He barked out a sarcastic laugh. Unsure of how true that statement may or may not be.

+-+-+-+

Veora and her father exited their meeting with the weir witches of Upsala. She could tell that while he was coming around to the possibility that his daughter had prophetic dreams and that ignoring them would only escalate Odin’s hold over her he was not in the least put at ease by the news.

The weir witches insisted that she must go with them to Upsala and begin learning their old ways but she held firm that she had important work to do here with her family and that they should instead come stay at the Mountainkeep.

She would be happy to accommodate her time to their teachings while still carrying out the will of Odin.

Ten nights of sleep for ten years she had told them, and she thought it only a terrible series of dreams. There was much to do and the fate weaved by the norns was not yet set. She told her father that she took this duty set to her very seriously, had dedicated much time in their archives to it already and would continue to be diligent in upholding her duty to her family.

Lord Giles didn't have much to say, and Giles the father only wanted to throw everyone out of his castle and keep them away from his family. He warned Veora that the attention she was drawing to herself would be a double edged sword that she wasn't prepared for.

She insisted that he had taught her enough to make do, come what may. And what he hadn't she would have to figure out, there simply wasn't any other choice when life gave you a path like this.

He had his arm around her shoulders as they walked for a while, parting ways in the stables only because he had work to see to still, but bidding her to enjoy the colt that had just been born, and to think of a name as he needed one. He was pitch black and loved to whinny.

Veora smiled down at his sleeping form as she leaned on the door. She suspected that her father meant to gift him to her once he was weaned. A sweet sentiment.

Uncertain as to what to do, Sylas found himself wandering the exterior of the keep, hoping to avoid the majority of its occupants. Rhory of course, hot headed as ever, had gone and demanded a duel with Lord Corbray. He doubted Lord Giles’ forbidding the event would keep them from crossing swords.

As much as he would’ve liked to see the smug coastal lord knocked down a few pegs, Sylas spurned the notion of being stuck in a crowd. No doubt word had circled the keep by now. Everyone had to be wondering what would come next for him. None more so than Sylas himself.

He knew his father had started no rebellion, not when his wife was unwell and Sylas was still housed by House Grimald. He carried the letter his father had sent, informing him of his mother’s rapid decline.

He also carried the letter Veora had instructed him to send. It weighed on his heart like an iron. The more he contemplated it, the more his uncertainty turned to anger.

Sometime after court had adjourned, Veora and her father had met with the envoys from Upsala. He wondered what lies she had to spin to convince them of her true, divine potential.

He couldn’t get over the sugar cube which had acted as Lady Grey’s last meal. Was it meant as a sign of remorse? A last kindness for the creature before she met a tragic end? Either way, neither of those made much sense when you considered she had alleged to have killed the creature while in a fugue state.
That coupled with her outburst in the archives had Sylas convinced Veora was scheming something. What he couldn’t understand was why, or how any of it was possible.

If invoking Odin’s name was meant to be a ruse, then how had she known the letter was coming? Why speak up at all if it was all a twisted scheme to plunge the North into war once again? None of it made any logical sense.

As he wandered, Sylas soon came to realize he wasn’t alone. He was at the stables, the gentle whinnys of the newly birthed colt filled the air.

And, naturally because his luck couldn’t get any worse, Veora was there.

She looked oddly peaceful, gazing at the newest arrival in the stables. That only made him more angry.

“Intending on sacrificing this one to the Alfather as well?”, he commented snidely. Such an attitude wasn’t common with Sylas, it was certainly more along the lines of how Rhory might act. But at that moment, he didn't care. Letters had been sent south, both to House day and the Emperor. Both had to confirm that the initial report of treason was a lie for Sylas to be spared.
He had faith his father’s letter would say as such, along with several paragraphs worth of indignation and outrage.

But the letter from the Emperor? Who knew what it would say? Perhaps only Veora did.

“You're right Sylas. You're so wise and knowledgeable. And I only some stupid little girl. I’ve made a grave mistake.” Veora said in her sweetest voice.

Sylas and his poisonous ungrateful words sought to make her as upset as he was. People did that, boys even more so. She had sympathy for him, and an old Veora would've seen it for what it was and comforted him. But this one saw it for what it was and didn't care to ever risk her feelings for his. A lady’s duty to be the peace no longer interested her. That thankless task brought you no reward nor did it grant you protection.

She slid off the stable door and got closer to him, perhaps too close.

“I shouldn't have sacrificed Lady Grey for your sake. She was a beautiful and gentle mare. Those are difficult to come by. Whereas you, there's thousands of you, boys who are nothing but baying asses.” She said as calmly and as sweetly as one might offer a compliment, sans any smile.

Sylas rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t I know it? You always doted on that beast. Treated her better than us most days. A pity she had to die for your little game?” He stared her down coldly, his expression unmoving despite her words.

“You’ve always loved to play cruel games, but this one is especially so. Do tell me, gifted prophet, what cruel fate do you intend to lead us to?”

Veora almost bared her teeth at him.

He took her letter from his pocket, and offered it back to her. “Would this lovely trip send my parents to their doom? Will your father decide my head ought to roll after all? How am I to be certain of anything when you hide the truth?”

He kept his voice level, conversational even. Sylas wasn’t sure which idea unsettled him more. The notion Veora truly was gifted with divine knowledge. Or that she had somehow masterminded this entire fucked situation. Neither one would make him sleep any easier tonight.

“Cruel games? How spurious. The only thing I’d need to do to have your head roll and your parents dead in their graves along with all the people under their care is nothing.” She almost hissed.

“If that letter came without my performing a blood sacrifice you would be dead this evening, Lord Day. And then your parents would've risen up in all their fury to avenge you. And do you think for one single moment that they would win? Hm?” She tilted her head in question, as if he were stupid.

He clenched his jaw, half tempted to say something rightly foul as she continued on.

“The north was the last territory to be conquered by the Empire for a reason, House Day failed in their ill timed rebellion back then and they'd fail even quicker now. The decimation of you and your house would require nothing from me. Not a thing Ser. So don't you dare smear me as cruel when I have never said anything half as mean as your thoughts of me.” She didn't back down, all ice and no warmth. It seemed in trying to disprove her view of the future he was also rewriting the past. She didn't know what he meant by her liking to play cruel games and frantically searched her memory for them, infuriated and offended.

Sylas blinked, and then he chuckled. “You certainly do sound convincing when you talk like that”
Naturally, his unjust death would cause his parents to rebel. Such a thing would end in ruin. It didn’t take any sort of divine intervention to know this. But to know that letter was coming.

“It is honestly impressive how easily you’ve managed to convince everyone. One staged sacrifice, and suddenly you're the new mouthpiece to the Alfather.”

He rolled his eyes, and dropped her letter to the dirt. “It makes me wonder, what else has been a part of this little plan? Sparing me, inviting Lady Rowan? You were oh so insistent on her being here Veora. Tell me, does the Alfather have grand plans for all of us? Or have you thought that far ahead?”

Veora looked down at the dirt resentfully, and picked up the letter.

“Yes. Ten years in fact. Ten years of misfortune I have to find some way for all of us to avoid and you can't even set aside your disgusting pride to send one letter. One letter that would bring new economic verve to your family's region and ensure we all thrive during a famine that will come no matter what wars are being fought.” She dusted it off and folded it back up, tucking it in her sleeves. She would send it. Her pride was long gone.

She sighed tiredly.

“Any other questions you have for me Ser Day? Any other abuses and accusations that you think can touch me? Let's hear it all. Unburden yourself. I’ve met monsters and your whining doesn’t even come close to how cruel a Prince can be.” Veora said dispassionately, crossing her arms.

Sylas watched incredulously as Veora grabbed the letter and stashed it away. The conniving girl still couldn’t see why he was so angry. Assuming he chose to believe her in regards to her future knowledge and plans, that still held one crucial issue.

“You haven’t given a single thought as to why I don’t want that letter sent, have you?” he pointed to her sleeve.

“Why all of this madness is nigh unbelievable?! You have the gall to send that letter to my parents following the damning news that they have been accused of treason! That should they not respond favorably, I’ll be killed? Do you have any idea what that will do to my mother’s already failing health!?”

He thought of the letter his father had sent. It was a miracle it had arrived before the Emperor’s missive. Perhaps that was ordained as well.

“You are delusional if you think my father will trust anything coming from this house after they receive your father’s letter. Mark me, all our vessels will be docked for months as this mess is sorted out.” This wasn’t just about his parents, though he burned with rage at the thought of them being tormented so needlessly.

Veora, though stony in expression, realized he was absolutely right. In the past his mother's health did fail her. She died soon after hearing of her son's execution. Veora hadn't considered that at all.

“You speak of my pride, yet you're so confident in your bloody schemes, you expect me to follow your commands like an obedient dog. You expect all of us to do so! You’ve done nothing to earn my trust but slaughter a bloody horse and paint yourself with its entrails!”

“Yes. One letter. You are run dogged Ser Day. My apologies.” Veora might have sounded sarcastic if she hadn't sounded so flat.

He rubbed his eyes rather tiredly, this argument was getting neither of them nowhere.

“This cold, calculating demeanor you’ve taken on…is a far cry from the girl I’ve known for ten years. She, I might’ve trusted. But you…as you are”, he scowled. “I barely recognize you, Lady Grimald. So no, I won’t be dancing to the tune of your apocalyptic future.”

“She was useless. Better she be dead and gone.” Veora retorted icily, true vitriol in her assertion.

He cast her one final glare, briefly he noted just how much…older she appeared in this moment.

Veora was never this cold or dispassionate. Even he could see something had changed within her. A pity it changed her for the worst.

“I’ll leave you to your schemes then. No doubt you have plenty of other irons in the fire.”

He stalked off, wondering if there’d be some sort of divine punishment for belittling the supposed prophet of the Alfather. At least if there was, he could finally have proof of Veora’s madness.

Veora glanced back at the pretty colt, who whinnied cutely at her, woken up by the conversation.

She turned away, hardened. Best she not get attached to the poor thing. It might live longer that way.

+-+-+-+

If one were to go about learning archery in secret, it would behoove them to not go about it right where anyone could stumble upon them.

So the two conspirators decided the only place they could practice archery would have to be outside of the Mountainkeep.

Cosette had wanted to sneak out, until Veora pointed out that they needn't sneak at all. Just declare that they were going for a ride. Cosette was known to enjoy riding and Veora was known to be amicable to guest’s wants. Thus, no one would suspect or bother them about it. This also benefited them in the sense that they could go whenever they wanted rather than being limited to when no one would be looking for them.

And as for a chaperone, something they'd need for the peace of mind of her father, Lord Viktor served perfectly. As they could make him take a vow of silence on the matter upon his honor as a knight. Something he was bullied into doing and complied with sheepishly.

Veora felt a little bad for him, but he didn't seem to be hating the experience of being their guard. Rather he seemed fond of the task. And anyway he always got fed baked sweets for it, so it wasn't entirely thankless.

He was munching on one presently, as Veora drew back the string of her bow with shaky arms. Archery was apparently all about form, and hers had been deplorable at first apparently.

Despite all the standing around involved it was also tiring, but Veora was determined not to complain even if her arms were sore.

“Straighten your back now”, Cosette critiqued.

“Remember, without good posture you’re doomed before you ever nock an arrow.”

These private lessons had been the most entertaining thing to come from her trip to Mountainkeep. Though the more she learned about the place, the less she understood why Veora was so insistent on learning from her. After all, it wasn’t as if northern women were barred from such activities.

She assumed that it was entirely to do with Veora not wanting her brother to find out. The very thought of the lord to be set Cosette’s blood to boiling.

Picking up her own bow, she snagged an arrow and effortlessly nocked it. Pulling back, she took her shot, which flew straight into a narrow gap on the side of a distant tree.

Huffing, Cosette lowered the bow. “Right, something like that then”, she looked at Veora, still clearly annoyed though not specifically at her.

Viktor, who knew enough to know when Cosette was growing annoyed, made a calculated and quiet move further from the girls. Close enough to respond should something go wrong. Far enough away to be out of earshot of whatever came next.

“You seem irritated today. Did something happen?” Veora asked as she let her arrow fly finally. She always took forever to aim. The whistle of the arrow flew past the tree she was aiming for however. At least it had range this time though.

Cosette nodded approvingly as Veora shot. “Better, that one actually flew a bit.”

She pointedly ignored Veora’s question for a moment, as her still being angry was utterly stupid. She offered Veora another arrow as she prepped another shot.

“Ah, well, I may have gotten into a bit of a spat with your incredibly irritating brother following the court session your father held” She fired once again, nailing yet another tree. “It was foolish. And I am foolish for still being annoyed and for expecting anything less of myself.” She shook her head, chuckling wryly.

“But my inability to carry a proper conversation is far less interesting as to why we once again had to venture out into the woods for our lessons. Mind you I do now hold a better understanding on how annoying your kin can be. So I guess that is one reason.”

“Hmmmmm.” Veora drew back again and aimed. Letting go as she exhaled. It thunked on the tree at an angle somehow and flopped onto the ground.

“Ugh, that's why.” She gestured at the tree and slumped in an unladylike manner.

She rolled her shoulders, hoping that if she opened up a little then Cosette would do the same.

“You all do it so seamlessly. I think I will be able to achieve some measure of competence but that will take time and if you can not rely on your competence then what is the next best thing?” Veora looked at her and smiled, “The element of surprise. I am known as a helpless creature, all ladylike courtesy and no bite.” Well, maybe not anymore, but no one suspected her of being able to do a grown man any damage that was for sure.

“Your turn, what did my incredibly foolish brother say that upset you so? It'll be good to rant about it to someone.” Veora drew back again.

Cosette set her bow aside and hopped onto a nearby rock. “Well, it isn’t as if you’ve had much practice. I’ve been using bows for about as long as I can remember. Hell, I had toy ones when I was an infant. It is second nature after a long while.”

She blinked. “Why go to the trouble of learning now? You’ve got an entire keep full of capable knights. I’m certain your father would flay anyone who dared to harm you.” She chuckled at the notion, plucking loose pebbles off the rock’s rough surface and tossed them idly into the brush.

“And your pig headed brother isn’t bad either”, she grumbled that last part, her gaze shifting skyward.

It was a beautiful day to be out and about. The sunlight filtered through the trees and warmed her face. It was reminiscent of home. Ah, she missed home.

Veora let her skirt the question and debated what all to tell her. Cosette already knew she had some sort of dreams that were prophetic. So without being specific…

“Nobody can really protect you. Especially not if they're dead or there's things in the way preventing them from protecting you…” She lowered her bow. And turned to look her in the eye.

“We've narrowly avoided war with House Day and there's no longer any reason for father to go to the capitol. No mishap to investigate because the mishap in question has been avoided. But the person that sent that missive… he wanted to weaken the north before instigating a war with it. We may have avoided that fate Cosette but he is powerful and may try something else. Something worse than what I saw and experienced before. Nobody protected me in that future and it was the most helpless and useless feeling in the entire world. I could do nothing. I was nothing. At least if I can defend myself I can feel like I can do something.” It was probably the most passionate, vulnerable, and honest Veora had been to anyone in a long time.

But she knew she could tell Cosette, because Cosette was the type of person who took loyalty very seriously, after you'd earned it from her. And besides, she was part of all this, she deserved to know.

Cosette didn’t know what to make of Veora’s supposed visions. In the south, the word and influence of Odin was all but non-existent. His worship was considered backwards and uncouth. She wasn’t well versed in the word of Aule either, as she wasn’t particularly interested in any sort of divine being manipulating her fate.

But Veora spoke with such conviction and confidence, this was the most open Cosette had seen her. She knew enough, from the various spats she’d unfortunately witnessed… that Veora hadn’t been herself since awaking from her extended slumber.

“I see”, she tilted her head to the other side. “I will not lie to you. I am dubious of your visions and this future you’ve seen. But I cannot deny that you, Lady Veora, do not strike me as the sort of person to go to such lengths for no reason. No, you walk with purpose.”

She hopped up from her seat and approached Veora, arms crossed. “You’ve carried yourself like a queen in the face of all the chaos surrounding your house. I respect that, and the fact you clearly do wish to effect positive change”

She smiled. “I am willing to trust that you do have the best intentions, visions or no visions. And if the Alfather truly speaks through you…he’s made a fine choice.” She spun on her heels, grabbing her bow and readying another shot.

Veora didn’t wince at the comparison to a queen, but it was a near thing. If she became queen of the north in this life, something went horribly wrong. Instead, she focused on the fact that though rightfully skeptical, she had Cosette's regard. And even her trust.

“I know I could not bear the weight of such expectations. I can’t even navigate a proper conversation with your brother.” The arrow flew straight and true, striking an even further mark in the distance. Cosette sighed.

“Though, I believe I was the one who upset him, so it's my fault really”, she shook her head, chuckling. “I may have suggested that your father’s delay of Sylas’s execution being credited to your so-called vision was foolish. As any letter, missive or otherwise, could be faked. Why take such bold action with no tangible proof?”

Veora couldn't help herself, she snorted out a rather unladylike laugh. The irony was too much.

She glanced at Veora, cracking a smile at her reaction. “Heated words were exchanged. He insulted my father. I more or less insulted yours. And…myself maybe? Eh, it was all in the heat of the moment. I left before giving into the urge to take a practice sword upside his head.”

“It was. The letter is fake! Or rather… the Emperor never had it sent, the seal is real, the retinue that delivered it as well. It's true father would never have any reason to doubt it and ignoring a missive from the Emperor himself is dangerous but, you are right in a roundabout way. So you can take solace in that much at least.” There was a dark sort of humor about it all.

“Well, should you prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt, be sure to let me know so I can rub said proof in your brother’s face.”

“Rhory looks up to father. We all do. In the north, if you want to lead you have be worthy of it. And house Grimald tends to inspire loyalty but only because the heads of houses are held to that standard of inspiring it. Our territory is almost half the Empire and the Emperor certainly can't control its wilds himself so he leaves it to us. House Grimald leads, the north follows. You insulted what he aspires to be and he took offense and insulted you.” She shrugged. “A mild enough argument, my brother loves to argue. He’ll probably apologize later when he gets his head out of his prideful rear.”

Veora nocked another arrow, “Or should I bully him a little for you?”

Cosette smirked. “I’d thought about bullying him myself. I wonder how he’d feel to lose a sparring match to a woman half his size?”, she shrugged. She doubted he’d be willing to take the chance, not because he lacked skill, but because were she to be harmed in any way, it would certainly cause House Grimald more headaches. Least, it would’ve if Cosette’s father decided to care.

Reaching over, she angled Veora’s aim downward just a hair with the tip of her finger. “Relax your grip a hair, and remember to pull back fully. Elsewise, your shot won’t go far.”

“House Rowan sits on a well traveled piece of land. We protect the roads which connect parts of the north and western coasts. I can’t pretend to understand the logistics of it. I’m sure it's a stressful undertaking, I don’t envy my father for having such responsibilities.”

She couldn’t imagine the stress that came with commanding such a large domain. House Grimald was truly a wonder. Rhory had impossibly large shoes to fill when it came time for him to take over his father’s mantle.

Still, he didn’t need to be so rude about it.

“Your brother is a jerk, but his anger was understandable. But…do feel free to bully him, just a bit in my stead. He deserves it for being rude, not only to me, but to you” She frowned. “He has been rather short with you, least the handful of times I’ve seen you interact.”

She frowned. Things had been awfully tense, but Cosette couldn’t fathom treating her own kin so coldly. Even the ones who disliked her so.

“He's worried. He doesn't know what to do and he thinks as the eldest it's his duty to protect all of his siblings. But no one can protect me from something they can barely believe… I'm different. And they can tell. All of them. I keep trying to be the old Veora for them but I don't think she's ever going to come back. But just because I’m different doesn't mean I don't still love them. I guess. I'll just have to remind them somehow.” Veora let loose her arrow, it hit the tree square, lodged in nice and strong.

She smiled ruefully, “They blame me for making all this fuss and for being different. But there isn't much of a choice. We’ll get through it and everyone will adjust.”

Cosette nodded approvingly, watching as the arrow struck true. “Excellent, now just keep doing that until it's muscle memory.”
She’d never known Veora as she once was. But this Lady, as far as Cosette was concerned, was far more interesting.

“I’m sure they’ll come around. Might take some not so gentle nudges, but they’ll get there, eventually. With much kicking and screaming.”

 

[The Witch Son]

Archery practice with Cosette had lifted Veora’s mood considerably, something about being around the girl always brought out a fresh and weightless feeling in her. There wasn’t as much pressure being around Cosette as there was being around the people who knew her before. She’d ever actually crossed paths with her before. There was no past she was trying to connect to with her. No effort felt beyond building a rapport with someone new.

Despite telling Cosette that she’d bully her brother on her behalf, Veora did not feel that she currently had the goodwill to get away with such a thing. Nor did she in particular wish to strain what was already strained. Instead she wanted to reign her brother back into her sphere of influence and regain their companionship. A thing she felt was more possible now than earlier, there was a marked lessening in the glares sent her way and he wasn’t ignoring her anymore.

So when she found him with Sylas in the training yard and waited for him to be done to call him over she instead played the role of a concerned sister, and all the gentility she felt therein. She even brought some tarts from the kitchen to give to him while they spoke. Rhory’s favorite, raspberry, and refused Sylas’s favorite from the cook rather pointedly. Earning her a knowing look. Which she magnanimously ignored.

“I just got back from my ride with Lady Rowan.” She said in a tone that made clear they’d spoken of him. Watching her brother carefully out the side of her eye as they convened. She offered up her goods while he took a swig of water from his canteen.

“Did you… what did she say.” He asked in his best neutral tone as he stuffed a raspberry tart in his mouth.

“She instructed that I was to bully you a little, but she admitted quite freely that she overstepped and knew not what she spoke of. Neither of father’s character nor of the delicate political position we are all in right now. She feels embarrassed on those points I think.” Veora spoke lightly and without judgment, perhaps a little amused.

“Well… she should.” Rhory retorted without any heat, stuffing his mouth with yet another tart.

“And she is, you on the other hand, I don’t think is embarrassed enough at your own behavior. She did not grow up as you and I did. I don’t think you know yourself to be the fortunate young man you are to have someone like father use every resource he has to ensure his children were educated amongst the best and brought up with all of his values instilled in them. Cosette grew up quite differently, and her father is not nearly so kind nor does he give her nearly the same regard.” Veora reminded him gently.

Rhory looked particularly ridiculous looking deflated as he did, shoulders slumped, as he continued to stuff his mouth.

“Well…” He began, mouth full, “That’s true… as true as it is that you’re ignoring Sylas. You didn’t even bring him any treats and neither of you will so much as look at each other.”

“Don’t change the subject. Sylas has chosen to believe I am the root of all evil and I can’t control what he feels or does so it’s best to continue on as if you don’t notice it and support your sworn brother as usual.” Veora recited, bored, as though she’d thought of this very confrontation many times before.

“Fine. I suppose I’m a horse’s ass who was rude. I’ll apologize for my part. Anything else?” He took the last tart.

“Sure… do you dislike her? You know father wouldn’t push you to marry her, he’d be just as happy if you were to marry some northern bannerman’s daughter. He’d protest if you feel in love with the daughter of a petty house to be sure but a bannerman’s daughter is elevated enough to please him.” Their father did not have ambitions for expansion or trade that went beyond what existed comfortably now. He was much more concerned with managing the north’s inner health than he was in their relation to the rest of the Empire. A thing he could well afford given the relative isolation of the north as an entity entirely its own animal.

“Dislike her?” Rhory swallowed the tart in his mouth whole, which was grossly uncomfortable.

“I’ve barely met her! Though I’ll say she’s certainly beautiful, and capable. I like those things about her.” He shrugged, dusting the crumbs from his hands and not meeting his sister’s eyes, “It’s not like those qualities don’t exist in other ladies I’m sure. She’s just a lot different I suppose than what I expected when you insisted on inviting her. Which is a good thing, I don’t think I’d get along very well with someone else more…” He didn’t want to put his foot in his mouth and wisely didn’t elaborate.

Veora pat him on the arm, “I understand. She’ll be going home in a few weeks, you should spend more time with her if you can but I understand if it’s a bit awkward right now. Your marriage is something you should consider more but there isn’t any rush.” There actually was. But Veora wasn’t about to shoot down her own chances as success by attempting to shove him in one direction or another. Or her for that matter.

There acquaintance had been made, and perhaps that would now be enough to give pause to any plans about running off and becoming a bandit in the woods. Whether Veora was there to stop her in person or not.

 

[The Witch Son]

It had been a few weeks now since envoys had been sent out from the Mountainkeep and the ones sent to House Day had since returned.

Naturally, Lord Day was absolutely furious to have received word of his supposed treason. Though the letter was artfully and carefully written, the intent was clear. Were Sylas to lose his head over these false accusations, then there would be hell to pay.

Sylas read as much aloud as he reviewed the letter with Lord Giles. Thankful as he was to have been spared, the matter of the missive hung over his head like a carefully polished blade. There was still no word from the capital on the matter, which only complicated an already delicate matter.

Sylas did not wish to dwell on the possibility that the missive was fake, as Lady Rowan had oh so boldly suggested. Such a thing hadn’t even crossed his mind, a fact which vexed him. It was nearly unthinkable, given the potential backlash. The fact Lady Rowan had considered it so casually was honestly a bit impressive. Utterly mad, but…impressive.

Were the two to wed, Sylas knew Rhory would have his hands full. Normally such a notion would’ve been good for a laugh. If, somehow, the Emperor hadn’t sent the letter, then who had? Sylas felt he knew who could answer that, though his pride wouldn’t let him ask. He’d been avoiding Veora like the plague, barely making eye contact with her on the rare occasion the two did happen to meet.

The keep was vast and Sylas was content to spend his time in his room, reviewing his father’s letters and other texts in a desperate bid to distract himself from the ever growing sense of uneasiness which had taken hold in Mountainkeep.

Lords had trickled out of the castle since, curiosity satisfied and armed with the knowledge they sought.

Lord Albion had lingered for reasons Veora was aware of, but Lord Corbyn, as far as she knew, had no reason to stay until he started pushing his son to monopolize her time. Ser Hector was 28 and in need of a wife. And why he had kept his son from matrimony for so long became clear to her now for the second time in her experience. For some reason she had forgotten it utterly between remembering everything else that had happened in her previous tenure as a 19 year old.

Surely, a testament to how forgettable Ser Hector was as a man. She had thought that her new status as godstouched would perhaps lessen her appeal as a suitor but Lord Corbyn seemed to think otherwise. And Ser Hector certainly seemed to be ignoring the matter entirely.

The Mountainkeep was large, and yet avoiding them both proved to be difficult.

“I was thinking Veora, that colt you like could be yours when he grows a little and is weaned from his mother.” Lord Giles mentioned over supper with his family.

“Thank you for thinking of me father, but I think it's about time Dhara should own her own horse. He'd be perfect for her, her riding lessons are going well and she can be involved in his training as he grows.” Veora swallowed down the lump in her throat over the mention of the whinnying black colt. Sylas’s words and her own actions proving to be more haunting than her resolve.

“Hm…” Lord Giles considered while he chewed his food and nodded in affirmation. Thinking that perhaps it was too soon for Veora to want another horse.

Sylas swallowed a mouthful of food, pretending it didn’t taste like ash. Thinking back to that dreadful argument had all but obliterated his appetite. Normally, he was the one pushing Rhory to go and apologize when he overstepped a line. But even after several weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to try with Veora. Call it stubbornness or pride, Sylas couldn’t do it.

“For me?!” Dhara exclaimed excitedly.

Veora shot her a strained smile. “For you love. He looks just like father’s destrier.” In fact father’s destier had been the sire.

“Food first Dhara.” Lady Davina reminded the girl, who started to wiggle in her seat as if she were going to shoot off then and there to the stables.

“A fine idea.” Lord Giles agreed, “Though your mother is right, food first.”

Sylas was content to let talk of the horse die, though Dhara’s excitement was rather endearing. Were it not for her parent’s reprimand, she might’ve jumped off her chair and dashed straight to the stables.

“I must go to the capitol to present to the Emperor directly the false missive written in his name and seek justice for this matter.” Lord Giles mentioned with false apathy in his voice.

Sylas nearly dropped his fork as he fixed Giles with an incredulous look.

As if he hadn’t just tilted the world on its axis. Veora’s ears rang with it. She didn’t quite hear what Lady Davina said in response, something about who all would go, Rhory shaking his head. He probably didn’t want to go. And Lady Davina gesturing to her and Dhara…

It was happening, all over again it was happening.

“Vee? You alright? Father it’s happening again. Vee. Hey Vee!” Rhory snapped his fingers in Veora’s palid face.

Lord Giles was halfway out of his seat.

“You can’t go.” Veora said weakly, breath shallow. “You’ll lose your head, you can’t go.”

Lord Giles sat back down pointedly, “I thought there might be an objection from you. I must go Veora and I won’t hear any more of this objection. This is simply something that must be done. I will go alone and you will all stay here.”

“You CAN NOT go south you will DIE.” Veora slammed her hand on the table hysterically.

The outburst caught Sylas off guard, he jumped as Veora slammed the table.

“I CAN NOT ASK THAT HOUSE DAY DO IT VEORA YOU KNOW THIS.” Lord Grimald slammed his hand down harder.

Sylas winced at that, knowing full well Giles was right. His father would rather die than grovel at the feet of the Emperor and his court. Father, you stubborn fool, Sylas thought bitterly, watching as the argument played out. He supposed they were two of a kind.

Veora's mouth clicked shut audibly. He was right. Damn him he was right. Her breathing came quicker, her eyes as wide as saucers.

“Lord Day does not have a comradeship with the Emperor to begin with but he is a Lord that is out of favor entirely. He can not set foot in court Veora the responsibility to sort out this mess falls to me.” Lord Grimald said gentler this time, gentler but set firmly in stone.

Let Lord Day lose his life then. Veora thought guiltily. Let Lord Day risk everything for his son this time and leave her father to stay alive and whole with them. She'd worked so hard.

Father would never allow it. Not when he was in a much better position to enter court and ask things of the Emperor. Not when he harbored guilt over being much too close to executing his ward.

Tears filled her eyes like overflowing rivers. She sniffed and finally broke eye contact with her father to wipe them away.

“Then I will simply have to go with you.” She declared the obvious.

“No.” Giles shook his head insistently, not even entertaining the idea. He was fully aware of the dangers of him walking into a trap now. That didn’t mean that he didn’t need to still walk into it. Figure out a way to spring it without harm and find who set it. But aware he was. He wasn’t going to put his family in harm’s way as he did this.

“I was not asking permission, you don't get to run off to the capitol and die-”

“No.”

“- abandoning us all to whatever traitors sent that missive.”

“No.”

“If you want to be successful and live, you will bring me.” She stood up.

“NO.”

“I AM GOING AND THERE ISN’T A SINGLE MAN WHO CAN STOP ME. I WILL TELL THE WEIR WITCHES TO SPREAD MY WORD THAT LORD GILES THINKS HE IS ABOVE ODIN THE ALFATHER HIMSELF IF YOU TRY.” Veora screamed, threatening to smear him if he barred her.

Such ferocity was beyond anything Sylas had seen from Veora. To threaten her father in such a manner. Sylas found himself staring in shock. Such a thing would’ve been unheard of mere months ago. Such a threat carried enough weight that it managed to silence Lord Giles, leaving the table in an awkward standstill.

They were both bow red faced and huffing in silence. Until Lady Davina broke in.

“My dear. I think you have no choice but to take her.” She said, carefully and evenly, understanding now that this would be no leisurely trip.

Lord Giles gave the table one more slam before getting up and stalking out of the room in fury.

Veora swayed and collapsed gracelessly into her seat, covering her eyes in anguish.

“He's going to die. He's going to die.” She muttered tiredly.

She fully believed that too. Sylas bit the inside of his cheek, he had no words. Veora fully believed her father was walking into a trap. A trap he had no choice but to trigger, less Giles be forced to make good on his oath. What the hell was he supposed to do in response? What words could possibly bring comfort to the one person privy to the potential dangers lurking round each corner? The more Sylas saw, the less he could explain away all that Veora had claimed to have seen.

 

[StarryKnights]

Things had grown terribly tense at Mountainkeep, with Lord Grimald’s impending departure looming. It was agreed that Cosette and her entourage, and Ser Day would be accompanying Giles southward. Cosette would be stopping at her estate. The rest would venture onward, toward the capital. And certain doom, apparently.

Though Sylas knew the truth, Giles had pulled him aside to speak in private regarding the matter. He, Veora and the rest of their ensemble would make for the capital. Sylas was returning home, splitting off at Rowan territory.

Lord Giles felt his returning home would be the safest course of action, given all the uncertainty surrounding this ongoing mess. Even when faced with Veora’s dire declaration and the prospect of walking straight into a trap, the man remained concerned over Sylas’s well-being.

Were he to actually die while sorting this mess, Sylas knew he’d never truly forgive himself. Nor could he forgive his cold behavior toward Veora. It was growing increasingly clear that whatever she had seen during those ten days had more credence than any scholar would want to admit.

It was going to be a long trip south, given he and Veora had barely spoken in the days following the tumultuous dinner. Hell, they’d barely spoken outside of that, ever since the debate at the stables.

Dwelling on that conversation only served to make Sylas feel worse. In the wake of Veora’s deception and all around change, he’d found it easy to shift his misgivings and fear over the ongoing mess onto her.

It was much, much easier to believe that somehow, the girl he’d grown up with had simply lost her mind than lend any credibility to her status as a prophet.
But Veora would never condemn her father for such a trivial matter. Sylas had been wrong.
Seeing Vee break down at dinner had been harrowing, what made it worse was he had no idea how to even begin to apologize. Hell, he didn’t know how to even bring up apologizing.
Given their departure was in the coming days, Sylas was dreading the trip.

In the interim, he sought any distraction he could, which often took the form of training with Rhory, entertaining Dhara or retiring to the library. Reading usually was a sure fire way to distract the lord to be, he’d always had an insatiable appetite to consume most knowledge.

He was enroute to the library, book in hand, when he turned a corner and nearly collided into Lady Rowan, who was rather eagerly on her way to the training grounds.

Cosette had a split second to react as Sylas came round the corner, completely lost in his own thoughts. She sidestepped him rather easily, her previously excited expression shifting to one of annoyance.

“You’d be wise to watch your footing Ser Day”, she spoke somewhat coldly as Sylas apologized.

“Right you are Lady Rowan. I have no excuse, save my mind was elsewhere”, he proffered a bow. “I have no other excuse. Are you unharmed?”

Cosette waved her hand dismissively. “Completely unharmed, how lucky for you. My reflexes have spared us an even more embarrassing encounter.” She crossed her arms, gaze slowly moving up and down Sylas’s figure. “Pardon my saying so, but you seem to be rather troubled Ser Day. I’ve never seen you so… absentminded.”

“Yes, I suppose I have been”, he replied after a moment's thought. “There has been much on my mind as of late. Much on everyone’s mind for that matter.”

“Lady Veora’s prophecies have all been rather troubling, it's only natural to worry.” Cosette’s tone remained perfectly neutral, but the twitch in her eyes gave away her irritation.

Sylas blinked. “I fear I’ve done something to offend you, Lady Rowan.”

“Offend me?”, she feigned shock. “Of course not Ser Day! You’ve merely held me up, I’m actually due at the training grounds.”

She sidestepped the man, not wanting to linger in dreadful conversation any longer than necessary.

“Ah, I see. Well, my apologies once again for the delay.”

“I’m not the one you ought to apologize to”, Cosette paused to look back. “I’d say Veora deserved that more than I, wouldn’t you? After all, you have been a bit of an unreasonable ass, haven’t you?”

Cosette flashed a smirk as Sylas’s expression turned to one of shock. “Take care Ser Day. I’m oh so looking forward to traveling together.”

Ah yes, like a kick in the fucking teeth. Cosette hurried off before Sylas could get a word in edgewise. She was running late after all. Viktor had finally relented to having a proper spar before heading home. Archery practice was all well and good, but sometimes one needed to test their mettle against another.

Oh, wait until she told him what had happened.

_+_+

“Please tell me you did not actually call the heir to one of the ten Great Houses an unreasonable ass”, Viktor pleaded as Cosette grinned.

Having arrived at the training grounds, Cosette wasted no time in recanting her brief interaction with Sylas. Much to Viktor’s chagrin, she was entirely unapologetic regarding her comment.

“I could’ve called him something worse. Something like…” She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Like boar sired shit head. Damn, that would’ve been good.”

“That would’ve been markedly worse. So much worse. Honestly Cosette”, Viktor rubbed his eyes, Cosette smirked. She could always tell when he was riled, he’d drop formalities for just a moment.

“Your sister would faint to hear you speak of a Lord’s heir in such a manner”

“Which one? Certainly not Sylvie.”

Viktor’s flat expression made it clear to whom he’d referred. For a moment, Cosette’s exuberance dimmed. “Brigitte would’ve laughed. After scolding me for several hours.”

“More like several days”, Viktor chuckled humorlessly.

Given it had taken ages to convince Viktor to give her a proper workout, Cosette dropped that conversation there. It had been seven years since Brigitte’s passing, but her memory and name still brought on a well of grief that Cosette didn’t want to approach. Neither did Viktor, the loss of his betrothed was by far the lowest point of his life.

She busied herself by examining the weapons on offer, the practice blades were all well kept and organized, much like the rest of the yard. It wasn’t often Cosette got to experience such luxury, back home she was relegated to the makeshift grounds set up throughout the mountains she called home.

Her mother hated to see her fight, and had forbidden anyone from sparring with her within Castle Seventhson. Viktor was one of the few knights willing to practice so long as it was outside of castle grounds. He was also the only one unafraid of leaving a mark on her.

Bumps, bruises and the occasional sprained limb were a small price to pay to remain in peak fighting form. Plus, the knight knew if he did not satisfy Cosette’s desire to practice, she might go off and fight a bear or something.

Cosette selected a blade, a typical short blade with a guarded pommel. She gave a few practice swings while trying out some maneuvers, getting a feel for the blade and her environment. She’d dressed down, shedding the many layers of noble finery for a far simpler ensemble which would hinder her movements less. She’d wanted to change into a pair of breeches, but Lottie had thrown a world class fit. Right, because her attire was what people would choose to focus on.

As it was, few paid the duo any mind, outside of an occasional curious glance. It seemed women did not partake in swordsmanship as much as they did archery in the north.

But hey, at least no one was gawking, Cosette preferred that to the alternative. She’d lost count of how many scenes she’d caused at southern courts by picking up a blade and making an ass out of a knight or nobleman.

“At the ready then Viktor”, Cosette faced her rather opponent with a cocky smile. Viktor took a careful look around, relaxing upon realizing they truly weren’t being gawked at.
Viktor preferred sparring when there was no potential audience. Not because he lacked skill…but because Cosette tended to get a bit carried away.

After all, anything worth doing, was worth doing a hundred percent.

“Try not to get out of hand Lady Rowan”, he readied his own blade.

Cosette rolled her eyes. “No promises.”

Viktor sighed. Forever incorrigible she was. The two flew at one another, a flurry of flashing steel and parried blows. Ducking and weaving, Cosette seemed to dance across the training yard as she evaded Viktor’s aggressive attacks. Her smaller stature gave her a clear disadvantage, yet she countered with such precision and speed that the taller knight was forced to react defensively.

Cosette’s father might not have taken much interest in her education, but her uncle Claude had ensured his niece would be a force to be reckoned with upon any battlefield. Never mind the fact there was no good reason to send a woman to any battlefield.

The pair clashed for several moments, blades a whirl of steel. They disengaged after Cosette landed a particularly divisive blow on Viktor’s leg, causing him to stagger back.

Clapping came from above them in the ramparts, along with a cheering whistle. Rhory, along with a few of his father's men, were impressed by the display.

Glancing upwards, Cosette was surprised to find they had an audience. She flashed a smirk before offering up a rather sarcastic bow.

Rhory turned to them and bade them disperse so he could descend and speak to Lady Rowan alone.

“Ser Viktor, well met.” Rhory nodded to the knight. Who had, in his time up North, made a positive impression upon everyone. Rhory was certainly glad to know him.

“Ser Rhory”, Viktor nodded in return.

“Lady Rowan, if I could have a word? Preferably unaccosted.” Rhory got a little brave and made a half hearted joke at his own expense. Cocky grin giving a false confidence.

Cosette arched an eyebrow. “Unaccosted? How bold Ser Rhory.” She smiled.

He carried with him a square parcel that Veora had wrapped up nicely for him. She was very confident it would suit Lady Rowan perfectly.

Shouldering her sword, she nodded to Viktor, giving him permission to depart.

“Do behave Lady Rowan”, the knight teased before taking his leave. Cosette scoffed. “As if I do anything else.”

Well, that left her and Rhory mostly alone. Something she hadn’t anticipated happening at all. She wondered if Sylas had complained to him regarding her less than courteous labeling.

Or perhaps Veora had made good on her threat to talk with him?

“How can I help you, Ser Rhory? Looking to get a taste of proper southern steel?” Ah, if only it could be that. She imagined it had more to do with the parcel he carried.

Rhory laughed nervously, absolutely not, there was no way he'd know what to do against Lady Rowan. He couldn't strike at her and he'd just end up getting entranced trying to figure out how she made swordplay look like dancing.

“I'm afraid I don't have the nerve Lady Rowan, it would just end up a one-sided fight. Though maybe it would be deserved given how I acted before. I’ve been informed I was a genuine horse’s ass and wrong anyway to boot. I got defensive. I apologize.” Let it never be said that Rhory couldn't own up to his mistakes. It was one of the first things he was taught to do. So why was he so nervous? Lady Rowan was all sweaty and her hair was tied up, the flush on her cheeks from the exercise was attractive on her.

Why was his heart beating so fast? He wasn't some green boy.

“Ah. Understandable. And a pity”, she tucked a stray hair behind her ear before replacing the practice blade in its proper place.

“I can only assume Veora said something then? How sweet of her.” Cosette would’ve been perfectly fine to have gone home without reconciling, but this seemed far more diplomatic.

“I appreciate the apology. I also admit that I spoke out of turn. Your reaction was understandable given the circumstance.” Her own reaction was less acceptable, Cosette credited herself for not following through on the impulse to deck Rhory.

“I hope you can accept my apology as well…and tell me what that is for”, she pointed to the parcel.

“Oh this?” Rhory looked at the neatly wrapped parcel, considered what he was instructed to say and forced to repeat in preparation and threw it all out to the dirt. Instead opting for honesty and frankness.

“For you, a gift that I was carefully instructed to claim I picked out. As if you were going to be fooled that I have half as good taste as Veora does. She made it for you herself, a riding doublet in the northern fashion. In your house colors and embroidered with your sigil, with matching fur fit for any high born Lady. I should be taking the credit. But well, I think you're probably more fond of honesty than flattery if you're the type of Lady I think you are.” Rhory shrugged, curious if this was the correct approach. Maybe he'd fumbled this up too and he would forever be labeled as an unromantic fool but he liked to think he wasn't hopeless. That he could parse a character too and trust his instincts.

“That does sound like something Veora would do.” Cosette chuckled, taking the package and carefully unwrapping it. Rhory’s honestly was more appreciated than whatever canned flattery his sister had planned. “Though I’m sure her prose was lovely.”

“She made me practice it and everything till I memorized it.” He rolled his eyes good naturedly. May it keep you warm in our harsh winters. As if she were staying, as if she had cause to come back.

A hand crafted riding doublet, it was a very practical and considerate gift. Most nobles presented useless baubles, like glittering jewels or elaborate gowns. Cosette had a closet full of such things back home.

“It is by far the most thoughtful gift I’ve been presented. You have my thanks, as does Veora.”

“You'll have to come back, to see how it holds up to a true winter.” Rhory found himself saying. “You don't know the real value of a roaring fire and warm fur till you've had a northern snow.”

An invite back to the keep? How bold of him to assume she’d want to come back. Or that they’d have such an opportunity, given his sister’s dire outlook. Cosette felt a bit apprehensive at the thought.

“Well, it would be a shame not to experience a northern snowfall. I’ve heard they can be quite beautiful. Harsh of course, but that is merely nature's way of keeping us on our toes.” She chuckled, gently running her fingers over the soft fur. It was truly a work of art, Cosette never had the patience for such a meticulous craft.
It was far easier to bang one’s head against a tree while hunting, or crossing blades with someone twice your size. Only the most practical hobbies for a young lady to partake in.

“Should the opportunity arise, I’d like to experience such a thing. Despite all that has happened, my time here has been rather pleasant. It’s a shame it has to come to an end so soon.”

“Might you permit me to write to you? I’m not a great letter writer but it'll give me an excuse to get better at my prose. And besides, I’ve barely gotten to know my Lady Rowan, I should like the opportunity to know her better.” Rhory could count on one hand the number of times he's had to write an actual letter addressed to anyone. No one had cause to write a letter to the heir and any who did just came to see him in time.

His extended family expected a family letter that he never wrote. He'd probably be awful at putting anything worth reading together but sure he could beg his sister or goodmother for help?

Letter writing? That hadn’t even crossed Cosette’s mind. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sent her a letter. Anyone outside of her own family, though anything her eldest siblings wrote was promptly discarded. Lucinda, Lorelai and Lillian rarely wrote to begin with, and when they did it was little more than senseless nagging or reprimands for the latest gossip to reach their ears.

“I’m afraid you’ll find that, with few exceptions, the only things I’m remotely decent at involve the pointed end of a weapon. But I’d be happy to pen a proper letter… But only because you’ve asked so nicely.” She flashed a genuine smile at the thought.

“Then we shall be well matched in that regard too Lady Rowan.” Rhory chuckled. Recalling when she last said the same to him.

 

[The Witch Son]

The rip of parchment and crackling of fire eating away the message Veora carefully crafted was the only sound in the room as she waited patiently for her guest to arrive. Likely to be guests if Lord Corbyn was still determined to see her married to his son. Hopefully steep financial advantage would go a long way to assuaging his ambitions.

She couldn't blame him for thinking of his son’s best interests, or really, his own when he betrayed House Grimald. He saw the tide turning and sided with who he assumed would be ruling the north after her house’s ruin. Sharp ambition over loyalty was not a damning quality to have, in fact it might save your fortunes in dire times.

And she had already viciously punished him and his house. Her vengeance for his disloyalty had been sated over the ruins of his name, his life, and the lives of his family. She’d executed him last, so he would know her pain.

And he did. So there was no need to hold onto old grudges in this life, no reason for enmity between them. They could renegotiate his choices this time with a clean slate.

If she knew what kind of man he was she could give him plenty of reason to remain loyal to House Grimald.

She studied the drawings and descriptions of the foods she sought to send for from the west, what was left of the letter and mission that was initially meant to grace house Day. What she was doing was not betrayal. Nor was it underhanded. She had offered her terms to house Day’s heir and been refused. Very simply she was seeking to do business elsewhere.

So why did this feel so…

“My Lady, Lord Corbyn and Ser William have arrived.” Her maid entered the library, bringing with her the men in question. And a guard.

She and the guard were to stay with her and make sure nothing untoward or inappropriate happened. Not that Veora assumed Lord Corbyn would do such a thing, he valued his honor as he valued his head. But accusations could come from anywhere and were pesky to deal with.

If anything, it'd be more inappropriate to meet them alone.

“My Lord, I’m glad you could make time to see me.” Veora rose and presented her hand, father and son both greeted her amicably and were pleased indeed to have been given the summons.

“I have to say Lady Veora I was a little surprised at your summons. I would've thought your father would wish to speak with us first.” Ser William said, taking a seat as Lady Veora gestured toward the table.

“I think… William, that what Lady Veora has to speak with us about may not be the topic we are so eager to discuss.” The ever sharp Lord Corbyn corrected his son as he studied the maps and torn parchment laid out on the table. He picked up the torn letter and found the drawings most curious.

“Right you are my Lord. My father will not marry me to your son, even if I wished it so.” A lie, her father would consent to whomever she wished so long as the man was also willing. The whole of the north knew she was greatly spoiled in this regard and had no mother to object to her desires for any match, suitable or no. Her father was not particularly ambitious either, lacking neither in title nor land. There was no reason she should not have her pick.

But at least Lord Corbyn and his son could be let down gently.

“But that does not mean my lord, that you can not still gain something for your House with my help and blessing.” Veora studied his expression, looking for any sign of intrigue.

She had it.

“What are these exactly?” Lord Corbyn handed her the parchment, leaning in.

“Crops, ones that grow easily in the forest with little maintenance necessary and others that are easy to grow in difficult to till land. Perhaps even year round, so long as there is protection from the snow overhead. Perhaps… some sort of stable-like structure but for crop in place of steed. We need never worry about the winter draining our stock again, never worry about famine or buying from down south with crops like these.” Veora could see the skepticism on Ser William’s face, his father less readable.

“And where exactly would we acquire these crops, Lady Veora?” Lord Corbyn asked carefully.

“Not in the known world, but the unknown one.” She pointed to the coastline where Lord Corbyn’s port was.

“West, it's a long journey, it takes six weeks.”

Lord Corbyn hissed through his teeth.

“I take it there's no port stops from our coastline to this land you claim exists.” Ser William’s eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

“No. You will have to take supply enough for the journey and to trade with the people you will find there.”

“A fool’s errand. What about the trip back? My lady do you have any idea what it takes to make such a journey-”

“Of course I don't Ser William, that is why I am speaking to people who do. I can be shown riches greater than gold but I can't retrieve them myself. I must leave that task to those who are up to it.” Lady Veora explained calmly.

“And we are up to this task? For the benefit of mere exotic crop? Surely you jest my lady, nay you ask too much.” Ser William laughed.

“Fool boy. Exotic crop that is easy to grow and will be useful to the north, because we will need it. Won’t we? There's something coming, isn't there?” Lord Corbyn watched Veora intently, eyes narrowing.

“Indeed. And we must be ready. In exchange Lord Corbyn, your name gets to be immortalized as the man who added to the known world’s map. Fame eternal, along with the generous gratitude of House Grimald for introducing vital crop to the north.” Veora clarified.

“Perhaps if you told me the nature of what is coming-”

“No. Not yet.” It wouldn't be useful, and he would turn around and sell it behind her back. He could cause panic. He could use it against her. There was too many reasons to keep quiet and not enough to trust his discretion.

“But at some point.”

“At some point.”

“And if we don't take on this task?” Lord Corbyn sat back.

“Then I will give it to House Day.” Veora replied simply.

Lord Corbyn threw back his head and barked out a laugh.

Ser William rolled his eyes.

Veora smiled her little knowing smile.

“You drive a hard bargain Lady Veora. I suppose for the glory of the north…” He picked up the drawings, “And House Corbyn, I will have to ensure that I am up to this task. I can not promise results in less than six months at least, but I take it you are aware that this will take some time.”

“You have plenty of time Lord Corbyn, be wary, for this land you sail to is vast and it is easy to become lost. The people you will meet are peaceful up to a point, do not arrive bearing arms, only gifts. They will trade with you so long as you show them the respect they are due.” She glanced at Ser William.

“Perhaps it would be best to send someone on this journey who can ensure that. Take your time and gather the right scholars to your side, send the right people with a humble mindset and appreciation for learning. Curb any unnecessary pride, as the first impression you make will be important. Scholars, not lordlings.” Veora warned.

“Is that your impression of me?” Ser William looked aghast.

“Quiet Will.” Lord Corbyn corrected, patting his son on arm.

“It is the prerogative of noble knights with much to inherit to be prideful and high minded Ser. I would not shame you for it, simply put, the right man for the right job…” Veora trailed off.

“That was a clever and pointed response. A shame I shall not have you as my gooddaughter Lady Veora, are you sure you can not be convinced? House Corbyn would value and respect a mind like yours, and would never keep you from your duties to the Alfather. Rather, we would respect you all the more for it.” Lord Corbyn offered tentatively, knowing she would refuse, but making sure she wasn't under the impression that they weren't serious about the offer.

“It is not meant to be my Lord. But worry not, for your son is already in love with a sensible woman who will bear him sons aplenty. Your line will be assured Lord Corbyn.”

Awkward silence.

“How?...”

“I suppose to doubt the reach of what you see Lady Veora would be a fool's errand, House Albion will be pleased that my son and their daughter can finally be betrothed without issue.” Lord Corbyn cleared his throat, unsure how to proceed after being caught out so blatantly.

Lucky for him, Veora was neither offended nor interested in what he thought she was.

“Worry yourself not.” She leaned in, “I understand and appreciate that marriage is not always about what the young want, but about what is needed for their family. So I caution you with this Lord Corbyn, since we are to do business with one another. Take Lord Albion’s daughter into your home and honor her well, but cast Lord Albion’s influence to the wind. He has made certain choices that will damn him in due time. And I do not recommend that you damn your House along with him.” She relayed grimly, recalling the swing of the ax as his grandchildren, his son, his gooddaughter, his wife, his mistress, and even his favorite dog were all slaughtered by her order.

She’d do it again, with less hesitation this time. She was not a merciful queen. It was why she should not become one.

“But Sara…” Ser William croaked, eyes a little fearful.

“Give her the protection of your name Ser, and see to it she is made a Corbyn true, and you need not worry about whatever sins House Albion chooses to commit.” Veora leaned back, shrugging in an unladylike manner, trying to shake off the chilly expression on her face. She was aware it made people uncomfortable, which was only useful when you were a vengeful queen. Not a lady trying to convince a Lord to trust you.

“We will heed this advice Lady Veora, and accept this task you give us.” Lord Corbyn tilted his head.

“To the glory of the north.” Veora tilted hers in turn.

 

[The Witch Son]

“It's time that you put what you've learned to use my son.” Lord Giles instructed Rhory carefully. He was grown now, a man, but he'd never handled the Mountainkeep on his own let alone the whole of the north. He couldn't keep his children sheltered forever anymore than he could keep them from growing, lament as he did every year they grew taller than his waist and every year since.

“Listen to your goodmother, she gives good advice, help her with the keep and the little ones.” He pat his son's shoulders, mussing up his hair with a strained smile over the serious look Rhory gave him.

“You'll be alright.” He insisted as he moved on to his little Dhara and Gyda in his wife's arms.

“You both must behave for your mother.” He kissed their heads. “And you must try not to miss me too much. Let me do the missing.” Giles kissed his wife lovingly.

“Do not stay overlong husband and I won't have to.” Lady Davina smiled bravely, unused to parting with her husband for months on end. None of them were used to this. The capitol was so far away, the journey there alone was a month, back would be two, and how long would the Emperor keep him? She'd heard rumor that the Emperor was loath to part from her husband every time they met… best not dwell on it and trust he’d come back in one piece thanks to the favor the Emperor showed him.

“As my Lady commands me, I will hurry back.” Lord Giles stepped away and allowed Veora to give her kisses, mounting his destrier.

“Be sure you allow her to train as often as possible, just like we discussed.” Veora said lowly for Lady Davina, who nodded earnestly.

“Grow strong Dhara, you're destined to be a shield maiden after all.” Veora kissed her sister's head and mussed it up. Earning a smile from her.

“And you…” Veora produced a letter from her sleeve and handed it to Rhory. “You are not to open this letter unless the worst has happened. Understand?” She gripped his hands as they grasped the letter. She hated to do this to him, to burden him with either knowledge or temptation. But she was left with little choice. It was only the very barest of what he needed to know, in the event of her death.

Rhory, looking tired, nodded. Feeling the weight of burdens he couldn't help carry and fights he couldn't help win.

He pulled his sister into a hug, kissing her temple and letting her go finally when it came time to say goodbye to Lady Rowan.

“Send me that letter when you've arrived safe Lady Rowan.” He said gruffly, willing away the emotion of seeing the family he was worried about off.

The day of departure arrived far too quickly for Cosette’s liking. It seemed just as she’d found a decent reason to stay, it was time to head home. It wasn’t as if she wished to stay solely because of Rhory, but their brief time spent together had tipped the scales in favor of the North.

It was perhaps the most comfortable Cosette had been while visiting another court, even with all the occult chaos which stemmed from Veora’s birthday episode.

She stood silently, watching as the family exchanged their goodbyes. It was clear this sort of departure wasn’t typical, given how isolated the North was, Cosette imagined there wasn’t much in the way of long winded travel.

It pained her to watch, knowing she’d never received such a heartfelt goodbye from the majority of her kin.

Rhory to his credit, was maintaining composure well, as was Dhara. She flashed a smile for Rhory as he addressed her.

“But of course Ser Rhory. Can you believe I’m actually looking forward to drafting that letter?”

That wasn’t too forward, was it? Lottie seemed to think it was, judging from how red the woman became. Cosette could just make it out in her peripheral vision. Ah, she supposed that would make for a fun lecture once they were on the road.

Rhory swooped down and took his time kissing Lady Rowan’s knuckles, light as a feather, and far too flirtatious to be appropriate. He'd blame her nursemaid’s tuttering if pressed on the issue for how could one resist?

The gesture made Cosette’s cheeks flush, though it wasn’t unwelcome. “Take care Ser Rhory. Until we meet again.” With a final smile, Cosette stepped back and joined the rest of her entourage. They’d be traveling together until they reached Rowan territory. From there, Giles and Veora would continue southward, and Cosette would be stuck at home once again.

At least she had plenty of stories to share with Sylvie.

The departure was even worse for Sylas, who not only was dreading the uncertainty of what came after they left. No, he was dreading being stuck on the road with Veora, her father, and Cosette. Karmic justice at its finest he supposed.

Sylas said his goodbyes last, as he didn’t want to intrude upon the family. In truth, leaving Mountainkeep felt like leaving home all over again. So much of his life had been spent here, and the uncertainty surrounding this trip made it feel as though he’d never return. Even knowing he was to return home wasn’t enough to take the edge off his sorrow.

“Ser…” Lady Davina, who was supposed to give her hand to be kissed as Lords and Ladies do, instead broke etiquette and pulled him in for a firm hug. An embrace Sylas initially went stiff in response, as it was quite unusual. Still, he hugged her back, respectfully keeping his hands above board, releasing as Lady Davina parted.

After all, who among the Mountainkeep would chide her for it? She was its high lady and Ser Day was its guest for many years. What she decided was appropriate would be appropriate.

“Please take good care of yourself Ser, wherever you go, know you have allies and people who care for you in the north.” She parted from him but upon stepping back noticed Dhara was having trouble letting go of his waistband.

“Thank you Lady Davina, words cannot explain all you’ve done for me.”

“You'll come see us again won’t you? We won't become strangers? I hate the thought of us becoming strangers, Sylas.” Dhara tried not to cry, really she did. Face all scrunched up.

“Oh Dhara”, he placed a hand on her head, smiling. “You think for one second, I could ever forget the likes of you?! Of course not.”

Ah hell, she was two steps from crying, and Sylas did not want to cry. He had to remain composed. For her sake. “I promise, one day I’ll be back.”

Gently, he pried the girl off of him, trying his hardest to avoid her borderline teary gaze.
“Take care little one.”

Last was Rhory.

“Brother…” Rhory offered his arm to grasp, but it was a trap, for as soon as Sylas grasped it he was pulled into a mighty bear hug. It was a trap Sylas was happy to fall into, returning the gesture ten fold. “Nothing could ever change that, try as you may”, he flashed a grin.

“Come whatever may, we are brothers sworn.” Rhory shoved him off and gave him one last pat on the shoulder, “Go see your parents and give them our best!”

“I shall take care in the meantime. Be a shame to return and find the keep ruined.” Rhory would make a fine ruler in his father's stead, that much Sylas knew. He just hoped this would be a temporary situation, rather than a permanent take over.

Rhory found himself smiling, for he was genuinely happy for Sylas, feeling that some sort of invisible chain that was holding him in place was coming off. The invisible sword over his head being lowered. Hopefully permanently.

With a heavy heart, Sylas mounted his own steed, wondering when he’d return to the North, his second home.

Lord Giles adjusted on his deatrier, making sure his daughter was secured behind him before giving the gesture for everyone to follow his lead out of the gates.

To the south they go.

 

[The Witch Son]

Traveling southward was proving to be far more interesting then the venture north had been for Cosette. It was also proving to be more tense, as the weight of Veora’s catastrophic declaration weighed heavily on the minds of the Grimald party.
Cosette couldn’t help but wonder why the good Lord would risk going, knowing there was a potential for a trap. The politics of the issue were far too complicated for Cosette to actively try and understand.

Given Veora’s other claims had come true, it seemed strange that the house leader would risk their own head. After all, were Lord Grimald to perish, that would leave Rhory as his heir. The notion was a bit daunting to think about, given Cosette was also debating what she’d be writing to him once she was home.

Her life at the Rowan estate was hardly anything worthy of note. There were of course her siblings, no doubt Sylvie would be ecstatic to hear she was communicating with a prospective husband. Her other sisters wouldn’t even know, given they were all married and living away from home. Cosette rarely saw any of them now, and the occasional letters they did send barely qualified as light reading.

Talk of their children (or pregnancies), asking how Sylvie is (because they never bothered to write to her specifically) and of course, prospective husbands.
There was always some son of an acquaintance or young up and coming lord in need of a bride.

Cosette wanted a husband like a hole in the head, so far her father’s indifference meant she could get away with spurning suitors repeatedly.

But she wasn’t a fool, eventually he’d want her out of his hair and out of his house. And if she was going to have to leave home, she might as well go as far away as possible. None of her siblings were married to northern nobles after all.

The odds of any of them making such a long trip simply to visit her was unlikely. Cosette pondered the idea, tempering it against the notion that, were Veora’s dire future to come to light, she’d be the wife of a Lord.

Such thoughts were unproductive, and worrying. Cosette didn’t wish to spend what could be her last few days with a newfound friend worrying. Veora was probably doing enough of that for the both of them.

The week-long journey to Rowan territory was unimpeded for the first couple days, the group split their time between traveling and pausing for breaks throughout the day.

A larger crowd meant more mouths to feed, and longer periods of rest. The downtime had one upside, it prolonged the journey, and thus Costte didn’t have to think about the letter to send, or how to explain to her father she was actually considering a future with a northern noble.

Headaches for another time. And speaking of headaches…

Cosette took careful notice of how Ser Day made it a point to avoid being alone with her. It went well beyond the requisites of polite society, Cosette got the distinct impression he wasn’t particularly fond of her. He’d act so bloody nervous around her, as if he expected another colorful name calling.

Cosette had enough tact to avoid such things when in earshot of Lord Grimald.

She also sorely lacked the social awareness to know it wasn’t she who was making Sylas nervous. It was Veora. Certainly, Cosette’s blunt name calling had come as a shock, but Sylas wasn’t so sensitive to become hung up over something so trivial.

But his own harsh words to Veora, and how he’d generally harbored suspicions against her ever since her birthday… Yes, that was enough to make him nervous. As was the fact the man he considered to be a second father to him was marching toward his doom. All for his sake.

He could think of no way to articulate an apology over the matter, especially when he still harbored some doubts.

How best to approach such a sensitive subject, as they rode closer still to the capital?

With the crackling of the fire lulling various people into a drowsy stupor. The girls already asleep in their tent, and Lord Grimald contemplatively smoking his pipe, Sylas would find he'd run out of time to decide.

Lord Grimald heaved out a tired grumble only old men stretching their tired bones make. Before settling down with an annoyed gaze at him.

“It's not good to part ways with words unsaid Sylas. You're a man now, don't go piling regrets onto your trencher so early. ‘Tis a terrible habit.” Giles said through puffs of smoke.

“Regrets are for old wizened men.”

“Oh?” Sylas flashed a tired smile. “Would you happen to know any wizened old men I could ask about such matters?” His jest was a deflection, Lord Grimald was right and Sylas knew it. Still, that didn’t make the task at hand any less daunting.

By all rights, Veora had every reason to remain distant, though he knew she was pragmatic enough to at least listen to any half baked apology he could muster.
Their time together was quickly coming to an end, before long they would reach Rowan territory, and Sylas would be heading west toward home. Though it hardly felt like a triumphant homecoming.
He was thrilled to be seeing his parents, but the notion that Giles may lose his life in his stead was heartbreaking.

Lord Grimald grunted a half baked laugh.

“I have enough years of my own to know a thing or two mayhaps.”

The fire crackled between them, Sylas sighed. “I…don’t know how to articulate what needs to be said” And worst of all, he feared whether he said it or not was irrelevant. A ten year relationship down the drain over prophetic visions.

It sounded like something straight out of a storybook.

“Hmmm, well I’ve never begrudged a lack of artfulness in speech. So just between us, what do you want to say and how do you want it to be taken?” Giles scratched his beard thoughtfully.

In his opinion, Sylas had always been markedly more gifted with articulation than the men in his own family. He was thoughtful with his speech in a way northern men typically weren’t. He’d always wondered if that was learned or just a particular about the boy.

Sylas thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Well…more or less, I’ve been an ass. But you”, he gestured to Lord Grimald for effect, though clearly it was not the Lord whom he was cross with.
“Have also been a bit of an ass, least from where I stand”

Clearly Veora’s stunt hadn’t ended with his death. But faking the scene with the horse, her demanding demeanor regarding the letter…and the overall way she seemed to keep him at arm's length.

It was infuriating. “Of course I mean that in the most civil way possible.”

He rolled his eyes. Normally he was the one fielding arguments between the siblings. Normally he knew just what to say and how to come across perfectly civil.

But not in this matter. “I’d like to get across the fact that…even with all that… I hate to think this is what’s become of an otherwise perfectly civil relationship.”

He and Veora had never been as close as he and Rhory. Such a thing wouldn’t have been proper, and Sylas cared far too much for the girl to risk her honor with scandalous rumors.

The displaced heir of House Day and the daughter of the Lord keeping him under watch and key?
Such a thing would’ve spread like wildfire.

He paused, realizing that it was entirely obvious whom he was talking about. Lord Giles had probably already known from the start.

Clever old man.

Who was silent for a moment.

“Is this about Veora?” Lord Giles said a little judgmentally.

Sylas balked. Was…that not obvious? He flashed a sheepish, somewhat nervous smile.

It couldn't have been about Rhory, who wasn't there and was certainly more than civil with Ser Sylas, nor did he think he was so thick in the head as to miss any fancy that passed in between Lady Rowan and him.

Truthfully Giles thought the boy, or rather young man, had feelings to unburden himself about him.

“Alfather help me of course you'd be at odds. I didn't notice, you'd both been so withdrawn lately, understandably, that it was hard to tell what either of you have been feeling. I didn't know that the two of you specifically had discord between you.” Lord Giles heaved a loud sigh.

“I had always appreciated you know, that you both never had to be told or reprimanded with regards to the appropriate… appropriateness between you. And I trust that I still don't. She's too far too young to be… and her prospects could be hurt- well, you know.” He waved his hand to clear the smoke, “You both always did. I was grateful for that. But neither did I wish to sow enmity between you. She made you garments the same as she makes Rhory’s or mine, I had thought at least you two got along well. And then she…” He thought better for a moment of revealing his doubts to Sylas, but perhaps since it concerned him…

He leaned in, speaking lower. Sylas leaned forward to better hear him.

“Very deliberately, I think, publicly caused a scene at a feast she spent months planning and fawning over. A waning moon blood sacrifice of her own mare no less. It's been years since anyone outside of Uppsala has performed anything like that.

“If she had come to me in private and told me of what she'd dreamt I tell you I would have buried it and sworn her to silence. Disbelieving it.”

Sylas winced, though he could understand where Lord Giles was coming from. But in swearing Veora to silence, Giles would’ve been trading her safety for his life.

“I think she knows that. She's much changed since she woke up from her ten day fever. She has that look in her eye you can recognize in men who've seen war. She's more aware of the intricacies of the houses around her. She sends letters to I don't know who and meets with Lord Corbyn in secret and has the Weirwitches tied around her finger and my bannermen taking sides against and for her.” Lord Giles shook his head.

“I do not recognize her coldness nor her demands, I do not recognize how old and burdened she seems. I sometimes think to myself that she went to sleep and aged countless years and I will never see my child again.”

He heaved another sigh and leaned back, looking towards the fire as if they'd give him answers.

“I do not know the truth of her anymore and I do not blame you for being upset. Especially considering your life is currently on the line still, even now. But Even with all my doubts and confusion. I do not think for a moment that what she is doing is to harm you Ser Sylas.” He looked at the young man very seriously.

“I think she is trying very hard to save you, just as she was trying to save me by preventing me from going south. I think she sacrificed her mare and her feast in exchange for the public influence she needed to place severe doubt on the order to take your head. If I were to place the pieces together, however ruthless they are, that is the picture they paint. And however she's come by the knowledge she has, I intend to deal with it as it comes. Gods or no.”

Twas a ruthless picture indeed, but one where Sylas’s head remained firmly attached to his shoulders. He stared into the flames, as if the flickering sparks might grant him the peace he sought.

“I’ve come to see your family as an extension of my own flesh and blood Lord Grimald. I suppose that’s partly why this whole ordeal has me so out of sorts”
Well, that and the potential of being executed over a false claim. “Veora and I have always been careful to maintain appropriate boundaries, but in truth she is an important member of my…extended family. As are Dhara and even little Gyda”.

It wasn’t quite the same as his bond with Rhory, society dictated that such a bond between an unrelated man and woman be relegated to a life of wedded bliss. But Veora has been a formative influence on him as he grew accustomed to living in Mountainkeep.
And he’d grown somewhat fond of mediating the bickering siblings from time to time.

The sweet, caring and witty girl he’d know for nearly ten years was a near perfect stranger now, burdened with insight and knowledge beyond logical understanding.

And with that knowledge came the notion that others ought to follow her demands, in the hope of preventing a catastrophic future.

Given Lord Giles was heading south, it seemed that dark times were coming regardless.

“I’ve never placed much stock in the machinations of Gods, Lord Grimald”, he spoke after a moment. “Nor do I think entities who’d place such a heavy burden upon one person deserve such praise. The logical explanation for Veora’s insight is non existent, but relying upon her word alone when she’s clearly been planning these things for some time is…”

Well, he didn’t know how to trust her when she insisted on keeping him at arm's length. “I no longer doubt her intentions… but her methods leave much to be desired. Telling her as much without things devolving into an argument have thus far been unsuccessful.”

“That.” Lord Giles pointed at Ser Sylas.

“I think you should say exactly that. I don't doubt your intentions, I care not for your methods, and I do not want to continue to be at odds.” Giles shifted, mulling over the fact that he too cared not for his daughter's overstepping, and trying to reconcile that with the fact that likely according to her she saw little choice in the matter.

If it had been him, he might behave… no, he was Lord of one of the ten Great Houses, he did not want for power or influence. And if he was being honest with himself, he wouldn't have had the sheer audacity at her age.

The more he looked at it the less control he had over the situation. Which was alarming as it was frustrating. He hadn't figured out how he was going to deal with that yet and he had till they reached the Capitol to figure it out. Giles could not simply let his daughter loose upon the imperial court. The chaos she could cause with the rumors alone were dangerous. Never mind the plans she was no doubt making even now.

So unused to having to scold or reign his eldest daughter in was he that he was fumbling now to figure out a way to get her to listen to him. For she seemed perfectly content to do as she pleased despite her father's displeasure.

To think, Veora used to be his most well behaved child.

Giles made that sound so simple. Sylas just managed to stop himself from scoffing, as Lord Grimald was entirely serious. Given how their last few talks had gone, Sylas doubted such an approach would be well received.

But given nothing else had worked.

“I’ll endeavor to try a more direct approach. Though I must admit, I don’t see her being receptive.” Perhaps she’d surprise him, as if she’d done anything but that since she awoke.

“Shows what you know about women.” Lord Giles smiled to himself a little but said no more. Content to let the young man find out for himself.

The fire crackled onward, spitting embers and smoke up into the night sky. Sylas watched them flutter away, drifting on an aimless wind.

“Lord Giles…I do want to say this…”, he looked at the man, who had come to be a second father to him.
“If there was ever a time for Veora’s dire prophecies to fail…I hope it’ll come with your safe arrival at the capital.”

Veora’s frantic attempts to persuade her father against the trip still haunted Sylas. Lord Giles had done a great deal for him over the years, treating him amicable and with respect despite the missteps of his father.

To see the man dead, while he defended his still being alive, was heart wrenching.

“Don't go losing faith in this old man's abilities now.” Giles could not resist, no he simply could not. He smiled wide while he shoved his hand in Sylas's hair and ruffled it about.

The gesture brought a smile to Sylas’s face, as he half heartedly fussed over straightening out his hair.

Sylas might be blonde and grown, but to him he was still kin. That little squire trailing after him.

A guilty part of him understood, always did, that he might be called to take his head one day, but he'd always hoped there would be a way out of it. And there was, and he was endlessly grateful for it. Sylas's death would've scarred his heart for the rest of his days.

Duty was an ugly burden.

“Besides, the Emperor loves me like a brother.” Brother was not the correct word.

“We were like you and Rhory.” Except they weren't, not even a little.

“He gave me his own sister to wed.” Thank the gods for that, he’d been desperately in love with her.

“Influence like that is no small thing. Who could dare touch me when the Emperor himself would smite them where they stood?” It wasn't as simple as that. They both knew it, but that didn't stop him from trying to comfort Sylas.

“And besides, we are wise to the scheme of whomever did this. Someone wanted a war. What I can't understand is why and towards what end. Once I figure that out, I can put a stop to it.” He got up, stretched this way and that. It was well past the time for bed.

“I’ve had far worse odds and faced armies without advantages like this before Ser Sylas. We shall prevail, the only thing you need to do is enjoy your homecoming.” He patted the Knight on the shoulder as he left the fireside, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I shall endeavor to try”, Sylas replied. It was hard to accept such confidence in the wake of all that had happened. But between Lord Gile’s own cunning and his favor with the Emperor, surely no harm could come to him in the capital.

Perseverating over such matters would do him no good, and it was long since past the time for bed. Tomorrow they had a long day of riding, and it wouldn’t do to be half asleep.

So, with a last look at the fire’s dimming light, Sylas rose and made for his bed for the evening. The fire would be watched by stationed guards, so no need to worry over stray embers.

As the light flickered down, one guard nodded as Sylas passed, wordlessly wishing him goodnight. Sylas returned the gesture with a smile, noting it was one of Lady Rowan’s men.

Viktor, he was fairly certain his name was Viktor.

 

[The Witch Son]

“What about now?” Veora gave a pained smile.

“That honestly was worse than before sure-shot”, came Cosette’s rather blunt yet sarcastic reply.

“Ugh.” Her shoulders collapsed, she knew it was awful. Truly she felt like death warmed over.

“May I suggest a short break? Practice while exhausted will do you little good Lady Veora”, Viktor chimed in, pausing in his consumption of sweets. Cosette had snagged a few extras to continue to bribe him during these so called “lessons”. Though it was far less necessary now. Viktor rightly enjoyed this quiet time, even if he was meant to be a silent participant.

“A short break during the party’s already short break?! I am usually so much better than this. What is wrong with me?” She was going to use the fact that she was standing funny and in pain as an excuse, but deep down, she knew that physical pain was not the real problem. She couldn't allow the real problem to still be a problem by the time they were being presented before Emperor Erasmus.

She had a lot to answer for, potential rumors, doubts, fears, intrigue, she would have to stamp it all down with the full force of her absolute best impression of a silly young woman as she could.

Here in this clearing behind some trees, she, Cosette, and Ser Viktor were only half practicing archery for perhaps the last time before they reached Selmire, the closest of Lord Hakard’s keeps and parted ways. While everyone else had a leisurely breakfast, Veora had to come to terms with the fact that she was about to leave the only person she could be honest with behind, and having more trouble with it than she ever thought she would.

“The man has a point, rare as it might be,” Cosette flashed her knight a teasing smile before plopping down on a conveniently placed fallen tree. She patted the spot beside her. “Sit down. Pretend to relax for a moment. Your aim will thank you. As will the rest of you from the looks of it.”

More sighing, more painful walking funny, and a regretful plop down next to Cosette later and Veora was ready to cry for reasons that quite escaped her.

“You know everyone japped that I’d be regretting my decision to ride horseback the whole way but I had no idea that my legs would be permanently useless, not even halfway there.” Veora said instead of ‘I’m going to miss you’.

“You’ll write, won't you? Not just to Rhory I mean, I quite like you too you know. Your bandit ways charmed more than just my brother.” Veora looked over at Cosette guardedly.

“It takes practice and stamina to ride so far and long. Things you have little practice with I’m afraid.”
Viktor arched an eyebrow at the wording, but opted to enjoy the last of his treats. Cosette spotted the gesture and wiggled her eyebrows rather suggestively until Viktor had to excuse himself less he ruined the moment by laughing.

Once he was safely out of earshot, Cosette spoke again.

“I- I mean I certainly can. I won’t have much to share I’m afraid”. Two people in less than a month who wished to maintain contact long distance? Will wonders ever cease?

“Since you and your brother are so eager for my half baked prose and general whining, then I’m happy to oblige.” She flashed a smile. “Perhaps my sister will add something of substance to your letters. I think you two would get along.”

She’d never had a proper friendship like this, the fact they had to separate so soon was bittersweet. Life in Castle Seventhson would be a bore compared to all that had transpired during her visit. Cosette didn’t care it was an unfair comparison to make.

“Two of Lord Hakard’s daughters for the price of one? I am robbing the man blind, are you sure I’m not the bandit and you aren't the helpless maiden?” Veora cracked an actual smile this time, which looked odd with her increasingly glassy eyes.

She laughed, and then the tears started to flow.

“Oh damn it all my eyes are as useless as my legs now!” She joked as she furiously wiped them away with her sleeve. Feeling altogether quite low and yet more happy than she'd felt in two weeks put together.

“Ah hell Veora”, Cosette stiffened as she began to cry, uncertain as to what to do.

“Give her a hug”, came a helpful whisper from a certain knight positioned just out of sight.

“I’m certain father would let you have us both, it's not as if Sylvie and I are sought after prospects.”
She tentatively reached over to loop an arm around the sobbing woman’s shoulders. “You weep as if you expect never to see me again. I’ll have you know Rhory did ask for a return visit. Rather bold of him, truly. I’ll have to come back in winter to try on that lovely riding doublet you made for me.”

Cosette wasn’t the best with this sorta thing, and her stiff body language was a testament to that. But she was trying and desperately hoped to calm Veora before anyone else might come across her crying. How horribly awkward would that be?

“Your father-! Your fath- father he-” Veora found herself quite unable to get it out properly between her pathetic gasping sobs, “He has no idea!” She hugged Cosette back.

Lord Hakard had no idea that out of all his daughters, 'twas Cosette who would rise the highest. And Cosette had no idea that in another life she would never live again, she died screaming, burning, along with a doomed King and her little sister.

“None-” She hiccuped, “N-none of- None of them know!” She waved her pointer finger around, gesturing to people who were not before them now.

“None of us know what exactly?” She’d never seen Veora get so emotional. That usually calm, if not calculated look in her eyes was completely absent. It was uncanny really, how much this reminded Cosette of her own tears when her sisters would leave. Or when she had to the mountain haven she’d shared with her Uncle Claude for the summers.

“Veora please calm down. Take a breath and all will be well. You’ll see.”

Viktor was uncertain if he ought to fetch someone to aid Cosette, or if it would be better that no one saw this rather touching moment. But as he pondered this, the choice was taken from him as rustling in the grass signaled the arrival of another.

Viktor tensed, hand moving to the hilt of his sword, only to relax as Sylas came into view.
“I thought I heard…crying? Is everything alright?”

“Apologies Ser Day”, Viktor relaxed, slightly. Given their current…tumultuous situation the knight very much doubted Sylas’s presence was desired. “The ladies are…conversing.”

Sylas arched an eyebrow and peeked beyond the knight, who shifted slightly to block his gaze. “I can hear that. Doesn’t seem to be going well now does it?”

“I think it best to let them have a moment of privacy. Don’t you?”

Sylas had been sent to fetch the odd party, as the group was preparing to leave. Silently, he cursed Lord Grimald for sending him after Veora, no doubt in a scheme to get the two to talk to one another.

Now, he’s stumbled across a moment he very much wasn’t supposed to witness.

“I’m afraid I must insist Viktor. We are preparing to leave. Just give me a moment.”
The knight arched an eyebrow but stepped aside a moment later for Sylas to pass.
“Good luck.”

Sylas just managed to keep from scowling. He was going to need it.

Cosette, worried as she was for her friend, hadn’t heard Sylas approach, it wasn’t until he cleared his throat did she notice him entering the scene.

“Is…everyone alright here?”
He flashed an uneasy smile as Cosette stared daggers at him. “Just peachy, thanks Ser Day.”

This was just perfect now Sylas had come to see her blubbering.

“And! And he!” Veora pointed accusingly at Sylas, “And he thinks I’m the root of all evil!” Veora laughed ludicrously and buried her face in her sleeve, trying to get her blessed eyes to dry out already. She could not possibly be an endless well of water; they had to stop pouring endlessly out of her at some point.

“Come now, that hardly feels like a fair accusation!” Sylas snapped back, defensive almost immediately in the face of Veora’s claim. He, he didn’t think she was evil. Not…really. Shame washed over him in an instant as he thought back on their confrontations.

The vitriol in both their voices hadn’t been exactly kind.

“Ser Day, if you don’t intend on helping this situation. Kindly zip your howling screamer and fuck off.” Viktor winced at Cosette’s verbiage, even if he agreed with the sentiment.

“As much as I’d like to crawl into a hole Lady Rowan, I’m afraid Ser Grimald wouldn’t forgive me for turning away.”
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Forgive? More like he’d never let Sylas live it down. Frightened off by a woman’s hysterics? Rhory and his father both would ream him.

“Please, can we have a moment to talk, alone?”, he raised his voice pointedly, glancing back to where Viktor was just out of sight.

Cosette tightened her grip on Veora’s shoulder. “Now hardly seems like a good time. Not to mention the impropriety of your suggestion.”
Cosette might not care about her reputation, but rumors spread like wildfire and the last thing she wanted was for Veora to be caught in more of them.

“Now is the only time we're meant to part ways once we reach your father’s keep. And…point taken. I’ll settle for feigned solitude.”

“It's alright Cosette, it isn't as though things can get any worse.” Pathetic sight that she was, her father's men would already be forced to look away politely when they saw her puffy red face and miserable expression.

At least she wasn't sobbing anymore.

Cosette sighed, squeezed Veora’s shoulders once before standing.
“You have five minutes. And if she winds up crying more, I will ensure that the resulting bruising from the ass kicking I give you will be in not so discreet places.”

She wasn’t worried about Sylas reporting her very real threat. “Come on Viktor. He did specify alone.”

The knight poked his head through the foliage, nodding. “Right then Lady Rowan.”
The pair did step out of sight, allowing the pair a sliver of privacy. Cosette kept watch to ensure no one else would stumble across the improper scene.

Sylas remained silent for a moment, uncertain as to what to say. He hadn’t seen Veora like this since the banquet where Giles announced his departure. There she’d been enraged. And here…

Pure underrated despair.
“For the record, I do not think you’re evil, Veora. I…I truthfully don’t know what to think of these past weeks.”

“Well you could've fooled me.” Veora huffed, rolling her eyes.

“That's not fair. None of this is fair. If the world was fair none of this would have happened. Or maybe some of it could have and I would still have my ba-...” She stopped dead, staring over Sylas’s shoulder.

She blinked, a lone last tear falling and quickly wiped away.

“None of this is fair. But I am trying Sylas, with every ounce of everything I am and everything I have to give I am trying to keep as many people as I can from dying. I am trying to keep our homes whole and hail. I have given up everything for the chance to make things right, to make them different and I hope that you can just…” She was saying too much, and not enough, but she couldn't say anything more.

“I hope that you can believe me when I say that I do what I do out of love. I always have. And I always will.” Veora promised, love, not revenge, not hate, not spite. She left all of that behind. Had quenched any and all bloodlust she'd ever had in her heart long ago. She did what she did not for love.

That…was fair. Sylas had done little to hide his suspicions…and vitriol. He couldn’t help it, this woman who’d awoken from that dreadful ten day slumber. She was a far cry from the girl who’d taken ill.

“I can’t begin to wrap my head around how you’ve done any of this Veora. Something has changed…and I don’t feel ashamed to say that change has thoroughly caught me off guard. That’s no reason to treat as coldly as I have. I am…truly sorry. Sorry that things have devolved to…this”
He flashed a smile, but it didn’t truly reach his eyes. “I can’t imagine whatever plan you’ve concocted was meant to wind up like this. I…can’t say I fully have faith in any of the old Gods. But if they’ve given you the gift of prophecy…or something worse. I hope your dire predictions don’t come to pass.”

There was no logical explanation for how Veora knew all that she had. Sylas had believed her supposed connection to Odin and all that came from it was a cover for a more insidious political scheme. That made more sense then Veora contracting magical powers.

It…it had to be the truth. Otherwise… What the hell had Veora done to go and earn the power of the Alfather? He didn’t want to think about that.

“You don't have to believe… anything, but that. That I am doing what I do out of love. I just wish you would believe that much. None of the rest of it matters next to that.” Sylas didn't believe any of this could be real, skeptical and scholarly as he was. Fundamentally a person who believed only what he could confirm.

Normally Veora thought very highly of that sort of person. She still did. But that sort of person was very inconvenient to her plans right now. He was too smart to believe all that she claimed to everyone else, but it was too risky to tell him the truth, split as his allegiances were. And frankly, wild as the truth was, he most likely wouldn't have believed the truth either.

So this unsatisfactory middle ground was going to be as good as it could get.

“I believe. No, I know for certain that you…wouldn’t do anything to place anyone you care for in peril. And if I can be so presumptuous…I’ll assume I’m on that list. Perhaps by a hair.”

He managed a smile.

She managed one back.

“I hope in time we can bridge this…gap between us. You and Rhory were the only things which made living in Mountainkeep bearable at times. It is not lost on me that were it not for all this, I wouldn’t still be here. So…thank you.”

He dipped his head, partly in thanks and partly out of shame. “Regardless of where things take us going forward, you'll have my support. It's the least I can offer.”

Veora gulped. “If everything goes well, you won't have to make good on that promise Ser.” She got up, aching in more than body.

Veora paused when she made to pass him, “Just… keep in mind, if we fail and... Well, if I fail. What I said about famine. It’s coming, that, I can't stop with any schemes. It'll be too late if you put off preparing without proof of it.”

Sylas didn’t want to believe her, there was no tangible proof to suggest that such a catrasphe would befall the realm in the coming years.
“I shall see what I can do, I intend to have a long, long talk with my father once I am home.”

It had been some time since he’d seen his parents, the thought of the long awaited reunion filled Sylas with a mix of emotions. Joy, relief, and a hint of apprehension. He couldn’t help but feel he was abandoning Veora and Lord Giles to the wolves at the capital.

He shuddered to think what could happen were Giles held accountable for ignoring the supposed missive of the emperor.

“We shall do what we can to prepare our people and the surrounding lands.”
He offered her a hand, in case she needed the extra support.. The ride had been harder on Veora then most everyone, even with her trying to act tough it was plain to see.

Veora nodded at his small concession. At least this much he could do. Throw caution to the wind. It was a relief.

“Also…consider riding in one of the wagons, lest your legs truly give out beneath you” there was mirth in his voice, more akin to the teasing she might’ve received in their youth.

“Last thing we need is you falling off your mount.”

“I second this motion!”
Sylas jumped as Cosette’s head poked through the leaves, her mischievous smile making it clear she’d overheard nearly everything. Feigned privacy indeed.

“Heavens above woman, make some noise when you walk.”

“Pfft. Ser Day, if I wanted you to hear me coming, you would’ve.” Snickering, she slipped silently out of sight, the leaves obscuring her from sight once again.

“...You have chosen some…colorful company Veora.” He sighed. That was perhaps the most polite way he could describe Cosette, without fear of her emerging from the foliage once again.

“We need a little color. And I need to ride in the wagon lest my legs fall off.” She smiled ruefully and looped her arm around his, thankful for the body to lean on. Cosette or Ser Viktor had been her savants so far.

 

[The Witch Son]

It was time.

Oddly enough, Sylas was dreading it. How could he think in such a manner? He was finally allowed to return home, after so many years and yet.
He stood resolute beside Giles, eyes fixed straight ahead on the horizon. He squinted, as if Starsight keep would magically come into view.

They were nowhere near close enough for that yet.

Lord Grimald Surveyed the horizon too, wishing he could go himself to see the boy he'd come to think of as almost his to Starsight keep. As guilty as that felt, considering who he was holding him back from all these years, his real father, his real mother, his real home.

He figured turnabout was fair, that he wasn't afforded that closure, when Sylas’s real father was not afforded the pleasure of raising his own son.

Giles gestured to the men he'd send with Sylas, the men he was gifting to him as a Lord to an Heir of a Great House. They broke formation and gathered to Sylas’s side.

“Ser Sylas Day,” He cleared his throat, bucking up and summoning his bravery, “I go south to the Emperor to right wrongs and seek his justice, and ask formally for your release from my wardship. You are a man grown and it is past time you take your seat, as you were born to do.” He gestured to the men behind Sylas now, “These trained men of the north I send with you, to live or die by your command and in your service as your men. They will serve you as they would have served me, make good use of them, and have a care for their upkeep.”

Giles placed a hand on Sylas’s shoulder, looking him in the eye, “It has been my privilege to have you at my hearth and home all these years, and it pleases me now that you go home. Finally. And keep in your heart your second home, for you are a man who has two.”

Sylas stiffened under Giles’s grasp, desperate to not sour the moment with tears. He was a son of the North, and of the stars, he couldn’t break down now. Even in the face of parting ways with those he held so dear.

“I-” he paused, clearing his throat as his voice threatened to break. “I thank you, Lord Grimald, for all you’ve done for me thus far. You and your kin could have treated me with disdain from the moment I was sent to Mountainkeep. Instead.” Another breath. “You welcomed me, raised me, showed me what it means to be a Lord and to serve one’s people. I shall never forget all you have done for me.”

Ah, to hell with formalities. He tugged Giles forward into a hug he wished could’ve lasted much longer. “I am proud to have had you in my life. Both as a mentor…and father figure.”

Lord Grimald didn't want to let go, he didn't know how he was going to just… let the boy go where he belonged. This was always his greatest weakness, letting his younglings go where he could not hover behind and scare away all that'd threaten them.

He could leave them behind in their den, where they belonged, safeguarded there in that fortress of a keep. But here, now.

He let go. He had to. And if his eyes were misty no one would dare comment on it. He was their lord after all.

Releasing Giles, Sylas stepped back from the embrace. “I shall endeavor to remember all you have taught me, and ensure these fine men are treated well while in my service. I- cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me.”

And all he was willing to risk to protect him. If any gods were out there and listening, Sylas hoped one would protect this man and all he held dear.

“‘Twasn’t even a duty my boy, only a pleasure.” Giles clapped Sylas on the shoulder one more time before directing his destrier back for who waited behind him.

Veora had watched anxiously. She would never be allowed to hug Sylas, could count on one hand the number of times she ever did, but she hoped he would find the handkerchief she'd embroidered for him in his rucksack later, where she'd bade Cosette to hide it for her.

Dark blue cloth, on it were a family of bears, with one particularly blonde one who’s head shone like the sun in rays of yellow. Purple stars littered the corners ranging from big to small towards the middle. A useless thing to use as a handkerchief at all, heavily embroidered as it was, but maybe to look at. She hoped he'd look at it fondly.

“The north has a love for all its children, and a special fondness for the one of the stars, Ser Sylas. So take good care of yourself. Lest you give us cause to worry.” Veora, escorted by one of her father’s men, a Knight, said. Much more formally than she would have liked, but as was appropriate.

How eloquent of her, even when Sylas knew she had to be just an emotional. As if she hadn’t given them all ample reasons to worry.

Etiquette and grace was not a thing truly tested and proven meritorious until a moment like now. Wherein a lady had to show the proper restraint and give all the proper smiles, while making it look easy.

She raised her hand for him to kiss, blinking quickly but standing tall and poised.

Sylas took her hand carefully and raised it to his lips. “Such beautiful prose Lady Veora. I thank you for it.” He wouldn’t drag this goodbye out, for both of their sakes.

‘Goodbye’ she mouthed, for only him to see. He looked so tall on his steed, tall and shining and golden. Her girlhood had been well spent pining after him. But her girlhood was behind her. Womanhood demanded duty. Her care for Ser Sylas had been well spent, his head safely attached to his shoulders as it was.

‘Be safe’. He mouthed back, worry creasing his brows. Veora marched onward into uncertainty alongside her father. Were anything to happen to either of them, Sylas would never forgive himself.

Veora smiled and stepped back, allowing herself to be directed back to the supply wagon she'd been relegated to.

Cosette looked on, trying to pretend she wasn’t getting misty eyed. She couldn’t fathom Sylas’s situation, honestly any time she managed away from Castle Seventhson felt like a blessing. But even she wasn’t so cold as to wish to go away for years, to go without seeing her family.

Discreetly, she wiped at her eyes, and hoped no one noticed.

 

[StarryKnights]

If there was anything Cosette truly hated, it was suffering through tedious, stuffy and downright suffocating meals with nobility. Her own family was no exception to this rule.

If anything, they were the reason for it. Blast it all, of course her father had traveled to Selmire to welcome Lord Giles.

Of course such a meeting would be marked by an opulent meal, complete with getting all gussied up for the occasion. Cosette rarely took her meals with her parents back home, her father had little to say to her on most days and her mother Edith was typically entrenched in the sort of court politics that made Cosette want to crawl into a cave and never come out.

She and her mother were seated at the hand crafted, painstakingly detailed dining table which had been a wedding gift from one of her sister’s suitors.

It had been placed in the private dining area of the castle, surrounded by more opulent gifts from various weddings, political trades and even hunting trophies. Cosette counted one that she’d taken down herself. Hakard would never admit as such.

Dressed in an elegant gown of purple and golds, Cosette looked more regal now then she’d ever bothered to while visiting the north. Sure Lottie and the rest of her attendants had ensured she remained suitable, but they knew better than to push Cosette to embrace all the finer details.

The painting of her eyes and lips. Hiding the obvious scarring across her face and neck. Her hair, expertly combed, pinned and positioned to both frame her delicate features and conveniently obscure the milky hue to her left eye.

She felt like a painted doll, set up on a stage to be gawked at. It was as if Hakard was trying to say: Look at my daughter, she cleans up well despite her sordid attitude.

The last in the row, Cosette was seated beside her mother, Edith. A fair skinned woman, with caramel colored hair which seemed to shine in the light of the sun, which trickled through the ornate glass window high above them. She carried herself with a degree of dignity befitting any southern noble, the exact sort of woman Cosette dreaded to be cornered by.

Oh she imagined she’d get an earful later for the sour expression plastered across her face. How could she not be angry? Both at being forced to participate in this dreadful dinner and for the fact that her only saving grace, aside from Veora’s company, was excluded.

After all, Sylvie’s lack of sight was impossible to hide and though her sister had adapted rather remarkably to her disability, she still sometimes needed help with these dinners.

Cosette usually took to this role without issue, but such a task was unbefitting of a potential match to a lord’s son. As much as she wanted to entertain the idea of marrying Rhory, right now the prospect hung over her head like an ax.

“Straighten up, our guests are arriving”, Edith hissed as she rose from her seat, outside Cosette could hear her father’s booming voice. Naturally he had to take Veora and her father on a tour of the castle before the meal, leaving Cosette and her mother to prepare and perseverate in silence until they arrived.

As the doors opened, Cosette finally rose, only out of respect for Lord Grimald and Veora.

“And here we are at last. I imagine after the journey you both must be ready for a proper meal.”

Lord Hakard Rowan struck a fine figure, with his ashen hair tied back into a neatly maintained ponytail. His attire was expertly tailored to his physique, which hinted at a past spent in the field of physical battle rather than political.

The scaring down the side of his face was a mark of the plague which had ravaged the land. A mark which was well…remarkably similar to the scarring Cosette had suffered as well.

Leading them around the table, he made a point to pull out Veora’s seat for her before moving to the head of the table. Edith was on his left, and Giles was to his right.

“It is my greatest honor to welcome you both, Lord Grimald, Lady Veora, to Castle Selmire.”

“A fine keep, good bones.” Lord Grimald assured gruffly, as good as saying nothing as he took his seat next to his daughter, who was across from a very sour and done up Lady Cosette.

Who ever saw such a doll with an expression like that? He'd tease her a little for it good naturedly if they were still up north.

But here it wasn't appropriate, not without his wife present to act as buffer and agree with him. Nor in another Lord’s keep. So he stamped down his amused smile into a grin towards her and retrained his face on her father. Who was certainly… certainly.

“You honor us Lady Edith, welcoming us so. Your Lord husband here was just telling us that on the eve of your wedding his hunting party snagged a white stag? Such a rarity not seen in?” Giles huffed, letting her continue and carry away the conversion.

“Oh? He’s bragged about that already?” Edith brightened, easily navigating and directing the conversation moving forward.

Cosette just managed to suppress an eyeroll. Her father told everyone that bloody story. He neglected to mention that it was his brother, Claude who’d spotted and shot the bloody thing.

Pompous ass couldn’t shoot the broadside of a keep, Cosette thought bitterly, still sipping her drink.

Seated primly and dolled up in just the sort of way Cosette was, though altogether much happier and comfortable with the results, Veora surveyed the seats and noted that someone she had hoped to meet was missing.

Cosette had told her all about Sylvie, and how though she couldn't see, she matched Veora in interests. Veora thought she'd get to tell her all about how Cosette charmed them all and describe to her the dresses she brought south and what she had embroidered onto where. Ready with the prettiest prose to dazzle her in thanks for lending her Cosette for so long.

And then it hit her why, of course, this dinner was to talk business as much as it was a simple farce for a visit. And dearest Sylvie was… no, Veora couldn't assume…

Well, the man did order the death of his own daughter in another life.

Veora gave Cosette a knowing look and waited patiently for a lull in the conversation while the wine was poured and the food started to come in.

Cosette arched an eyebrow, sitting forward a bit she wondered what Veora was scheming now. Perhaps a fainting spell? Did she maybe have another conveniently dead horse to call attention to? Cosette could only hope.

“My Lord Rowan. If I may?” Lady Veora spoke up demurely, knowing how she appeared in her best color. A pale blue gown trimmed with fur. The picture of maidenly innocence and femininity.

Hakard paused, glancing at Veora he smiled. “Yes Lady Veora?”

“I could not help but notice the absence of someone I had very much hoped to meet.” Veora fluttered her eyes down in disappointment.

Even after only knowing Veora for a month tops, Cosette recognized a ploy when she saw one. She hid behind her glass and sipped her wine.

And then Veora looked back up to drive the knife in, “I hope to inquire after Sylvie my Lord, is she well? Cosette was so charming and she spoke so fondly of her I had hoped to make her acquaintance, and report back to my siblings of what she was like. My family has been scolding me for not thinking to invite her northward as well ever since we became smitten with your youngest.”

“Ah yes, we had thought she'd be at Selmire.” Giles cracked a true smile at this. Not knowing where his daughter was going with this or why, but she had such a look of innocence about her that he knew she was up to something. Just as well it wasn't directed at him this time.

Hearing his youngest daughter described as charming was almost enough to catch Hakard off guard. He’d assumed she’d act like her usual, hellion self and burn yet another bridge on her way to becoming a spintress.
The odds of any lord approving Cosette as a match for their son was unheard of, even the secluded lord of the north surely didn’t wish for his son to be married to a she wolf. Then again, rumors suggested that was the sort of trait the north might value.

“Sylvie is…well,” He glanced at Cosette, who offered nothing but an unsubtle glare. Silently goading him to speak ill of his daughter, his blind daughter.

“Sylvie is delicate I’m afraid.” Lady Edith cut in, casting Cosette a pensive frown. “I’m sure Cosette has told you of her condition. Too much activity can be overwhelming for her. We wouldn’t want to cause her any distress.”

“Actually, I spoke with Sylvie while preparing for this very meal”, Cosette chimed in, setting her glass aside. “She said she’s feeling much better today. The best she’s felt since my departure even! I’m sure she’d love to join us. I must confess I may have told her about our honored guests, surely you wouldn’t want her to miss this chance to…mingle?”

Veora gasped in delight, “Oh that's such good news Cosette! Lord Rowen, if we might be so imposing, if she really is quite recovered?”

The slight clench of Cosette’s father’s jaw certainly made the dinner less dull.

Edith placed her hand over his, squeezing it gently as a sign of support. A common thing she did to placate him when Cosette got on his nerves.

“Surely it wouldn’t hurt to inquire if she’d like to join us?”

Cosette wondered if Edith had asked for her stepdaughter to be present, only to have been shot down by Hakard.

“If you truly wish to meet her Lady Veora, I’m happy to send for her. Please just keep in mind Sylvie is…delicate.” He beckoned a maid over, and bade her to check on Sylvie.

“Oh Lord Rowen, I am not in the habit of biting anyone.” Veora assured him, amused and smiling, “We’ll have a care for her every comfort.”

She’s blind, not impaired, bastard. Cosette took another drink of her wine and signaled for a nearby servant to refill the glass.

She flashed a smile at Veora, silently mouthing ‘Nice one’, when her father wasn’t looking.

Veora didn't dare wink back when facing Lady Rowen’s face but in good spirit she smugly grinned.

“The girls have become quite fond of each other.” Lord Grimald noted to Lord and Lady Rowen. “In fact, I think they were conspiring earlier to take your Cosette from you yet again when we return north from the capitol. My children made her promise to write.”

Lord Grimald thought absolutely nothing of the comment, a throw away in their conversation to steer things towards more pointed matters. But he felt his daughter stiffen next to him. Before giving her a glance and meeting her fake smile of ‘everything is fine’.

Lord Rowen was not supposed to know that they were headed south. No one was supposed to know. Veora didn't know who he would tell or who he could warn or a thousand other little details she had no control over. Control of information was essential, but she had no control over her father and his brain and his thrice damned mouth.

Veora had failed to discuss strategy with him. That was her fault.

“I’m glad to hear it. I must admit, I was surprised when we received the invitation for Cosette to travel to your lands. She’s never been so far from home.”

“We’re truly thankful for the hospitality you’ve shown her, and to think she made such an impression”, her mother flashed a truly warm smile, though it was tinged with a bit of surprise.

What, as if she couldn’t behave when she wanted to? The urge to make up an excuse to split was tempting, but Cosette wanted to be there when Sylvie arrived. Just to see her father squirm.

Plus, Veora and her father would be gone sooner than later. Even if it meant suffering through this ordeal, she wanted to spend time with her friend.

“We weren’t aware you were planning on heading further south. Though that would explain the level of supplies you’ve brought with you.” Hakard continued, glancing at the door now and again waiting for Sylvie to arrive.

“It is a long journey, we hope it goes smoothly for you.” Edith chimed in.
Mother was being polite, no doubt rumors of Veora’s episode and apparent connection to the old Gods had snaked its way southward. Distorted no doubt by the rumor mill, Cosette wondered if her parents feared she’d bring the wrath of the old ones upon them.

She smirked. If only she could.

“It should, I don't anticipate my old brother in arms will disappoint. Even if it's been more than a few years since I’ve seen Emperor Erasmus.” Lord Grimald casually reminded those present of his closeness to the crown. Of the identity of his first wife.

He'd be remiss if he didn't do it at least once.

A knock at the door made Cosette sit up in her seat, a look of actual excitement crossing her face. Seconds later, it was opened by the servant Hakard had sent to fetch Sylvie.

Lady Veora and Lord Grimald rose up to greet her.

Sylvie clung somewhat to the servant’s arm, taking measure steps to avoid tripping in the skirts she wore. Her uber hair hung in loose waves over her shoulder, looking perhaps a tad messier than what might be considered standard for a woman of nobility.

Syvlie disliked relying on others, especially when Cosette wasn’t around. Still, she was a picture of loveliness, smiling brightly for their guests, head held high.

“Lord Grimald, and Lady Veora. I’m oh so pleased to meet you both”, she curtsied, the movement utterly graceful.

Even though she couldn't see, Lady Veora curtsied back, “Lady Sylvie, It's an honor to meet the sister of my newfound good friend. She tells me the world of you.”

Lord Grimald grunted in response, pleased, “Lady Sylvie, glad to make the acquaintance, I hope we didn't disturb you. My daughter is quite accustomed to asking and getting whatever she pleases. So you'll have to tell her if she is in danger of talking your ears right off your head.” He said as he moved to the other side of the table, pulling out her seat for her to sit.

“Oh, no harm done Lord Grimald, though I appreciate your concern.” Sylvie’s smile grew brighter as she took her seat, she shooed away the severant helping her in favor of walking independently. She’d been through this dining room enough to know where her seat was. Beside Cosette, with her sister between herself and Lady Edith.

It might seem strange, but it was easier for Cosette to assist Sylvie with her meals when she wasn’t boxed in on both sides. Plus, she preferred acting as a buffer between her frail sister and their parents.

“I trust your journey southwards has been uneventful? Well, at least an uneventful as traveling with Cosette can be.” Syvie’s tone turned slightly teasing.

“I assure you dear sister, I’ve been on my best behavior.”

“As well you should, dear daughter. To be the guest of another great house is a high honor. I hope you’re being truthful.”

Cosette fixed her father with a flat stare, silently debating how out of line it would’ve been to counter with: Or what Father?

Nah. Best to behave, so Sylvie could enjoy her evening. It was so rare she got to entertain guests.

“You know my younger daughter-” Lord Grimald began to Lord Rowen.

How awkward, Veora thought, to have to sit there while your own father makes snide remarks about you to guests? Now, she supposed, was as good a time as any to change the subject and say the most important thing she'd be saying tonight.

She directed her commentary to Sylvie, though no doubt Lord Rowen would find what she had to say the most keen. Or keener than what her father was currently telling him about his other daughter Dhara. But really the person she was counting the most on was Lady Edith. Gossipy little bird that she was.

“On the contrary Lady Sylvie,” Veora leaned in and said loud enough, but tone lowered, “I think all the fuss up north caused us to impose upon our dear Cosette rather.”

Sylvie’s head tilted quizzically to the side. “Oh, do go on.” Cosette rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

She leaned back and took a sip of her goblet before beginning again, “What with the absurdity of the fake missive from the Emperor and all. It really caused quite the stir and poor Cosette had to be sidelined more than once. Even though she and my brother were getting along so well he had to be pulled away for days on end. It ruined our plans multiple times and was quite the imposition. The heir of House Day nearly lost his head, it would've meant war.” Veora finished, quite shocked and scandalized by the whole thing, so much so her hand had to steady her bosom.

Edith froze, wine glass in hand as Veora oh so casually announced that a direct letter from the emperor had been decried as fake. Such a thing was utterly unheard of. Lord Rowan hid his shock better. Cosette noticed the way his eyes widened however briefly. He was intrigued. He was listening now.

Surely Veora knew that? Was that her goal? She watched her friend rather closely as the conversation continued, silently sipping her wine as Sylvie raised a hand to her chest. She’d heard bits and pieces of the gossip which had traveled southwards following all the chaos. But to hear Veora speak so candidly about the matter caught the elder Rowan off guard, though she was quick to regain composure.

“Goodness,” she began. “I can scarcely imagine having to undergo such an ordeal. I am happy to hear that nothing drastic happened.”

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Honestly, I barely noticed the whole thing was happening”, Cosette flashed a smile, happy to break the tension.

“Cosette. Be mindful, daughter, of what you speak of.”
She was no stranger to her father’s redirections, nor to that sharp look in his eyes. “Do go on Lady Veora. I pray Cosette didn’t add to your troubles during this difficult time.”

Using her as an excuse to push the issue? Cosette wasn’t surprised, yet she was still annoyed.

“My picnic was ruined. No Ser’s to attend us save Ser Viktor and a dour mood. A whole week they held council and even our castelan didn't hold service on our holy day since the weirwitches showed up and poked their noses around. He was quite offended at their presence.” Veora pressed on, looking flattered at having the attention of the room but far more concerned about her own affairs than that of what was going on politically.

“It completely overshadowed my birthday feast. The whole thing was ruined.” Veora added sullenly.

Idle prattle regarding her ruined birthday was the last thing Lord Rowan wanted to hear. Still, he feigned interest masterfully. Veora did at least confirm some of the rumors he’d heard. Snippets regarding the arrival of the werwitches, vestiges of the north’s strange religious customs come to bare.

“Tales of your gala have grown quite colorful Lady Veora”, Edith cut in, happy to take over the talk of gossip from her husband. “I’m afraid to say all manner of ghastly things have circled, mainly regarding an apparent. Well, there’s no real way to delicately describe this. A-”

“What, a blood sacrifice? Come now mother, don’t tell me you believe the outlandish nonsense that’s peddled about?” Cosette scoffed, though she knew those rumors to be true.

Veora’s eyes widened in disbelief. As did Lord Grimald’s.

“Cosette,” Hakard interjected, his tone stern. “Mind your tongue, less you talk yourself off a cliff.”
She withered slightly under his gaze, and hated the fact that even after all these years, the sting of his disappointment still bothered her.

“Cosette, I don’t think mother was going to suggest something so ghastly. As if anyone could ever suspect Lady Veora of such a thing.” Sylvie was quick to try and recover, while Hakard drank a large measure from his glass.

“Sylvie do not make excuses for her. Apologize Cosette.”

Cosette had half a mind to walk right off that figurative cliff, given how close she was to the edge already. “...My apologies. It seems my imagination has livened up my memories of that night. Perhaps it's the wine.” She chuckled humorlessly.

Ah well, she supposed it was inevitable that Veora and her family see how truly debased she was.

“Oh Cosette, how macabre. Come now Lord Rowan, surely she was only seeking to protect me from something nasty she heard repeated. How did spilled red wine on my white cream dress and a few choice words become a blood sacrifice? In Aule’s good name I’ve never heard such an accusation.” Veora looked to her father, aghast.

“Don't look to me dear, I didn't start any rumors.” Giles shrugged, eyebrows furrowed. Neatly following the ruse.

“I don't mean to be accusing but between all of us at this table I tell you it must have been those nasty Corbyn’s or maybe Lord Albion’s daughter… I don't know, someone who loathes that I've remained unmarried to be free to- well.” Veora waved her hand. Pretending to think and consider.

She looked to her father for permission, who nodded that she continue.

“I suppose I can trust those present, given I've already told Cosette everything, and if we hope to be tied together one day happily. But I hope to be seen favorably by a certain unwed prince presently. And if I had the support of House Rowan in my endeavors. I would be most grateful.”

“House Grimald, would be most grateful.” Lord Grimald added to Lord Rowan.

Ah yes, red wine spilled on a dress. Never mind the knife, the panic and the sheer chaos of that evening. Cosette slid further down into her chair, not bothering to hide her disdain for the ongoing evening. The sooner her father dismissed her from this dinner, the better. Less she put her other foot solidly in her mouth.

Beneath the table, Sylvie reached over to grab her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as Lord Rowan spoke.

“Such auspicious news chases away any trace of discourse.”

To court the crown prince was to essentially throw oneself to the wolves. The amount of red tape wrapped into the affair, from the approval of the church and king and all the ladies vying for Tristan’s attention, it sounded like a bloody nightmare.

At least the contest would be more interesting if the women actually did shed blood. It had never interested Cosette, as if Tristsan would ever give her a moment's thought. If he did, she’d knock it out of his head.

Cosette clearly remembered Veora stating she had zero intent on courting the royal prat. Yet here she was, smiling like a fool for Lord Rowan. Cosette was honestly impressed, given both of their fathers were buying this charade.

Agreeing to back Veora’s attempts to court the prince could potentially earn House Rowan a great deal of clout from House Grimald. As far as Hakard was concerned, perhaps that would be enough to finally see Cosette married off, if not to Rhory, then perhaps to one of Grimald’s bannermen.

“Such momentous news! We wish you all the best in this trying endeavor. I do not envy your competition.” Sylvie, bless her heart, was entirely entranced with the whole situation. She squeezed Cosette’s hand again under the table, sensing her sister’s growing unease.

“House Rowan is more than amenable to this pursuit.” Lord Rowan spoke. “I’ll draft a letter to be presented at court. Proof of our agreement, forever binding our two homes.”

The finality in his tone made Cosette’s skin crawl. She knew her marriage was being discussed just as much as Veora’s. She didn’t know what Veora was playing at, but if there was anything that Cosette hated more than stuffy dinners, it was having her future traded for the sake of political clout.

“A toast to the happy couples then!” Cosette rose abruptly, glass in hand. She raised it mockingly toward Veora, ignoring the fury in her father’s gaze she drained her drink. It was nearly full thanks to the servants topping it off.

The glass clinked loudly against the table as Cosette all but slammed it, staring Veora down like a predator about to pounce. “You’ll make a fitting Princess Lady Veora, no doubt about that.”
Already scheming with other’s lives for her own end.

“Cosette wai-” Sylvie called after her sister as she stormed from the room, she received only the slam of the dining room door, her stepmother’s profuse apologies and Lord Rowan’s outraged cry in response.

“I thought she liked Rhory?” Veora looked to her father, innocently bemused on the outside, and as outraged as Lord Rowan on the inside. Albeit for entirely different reasons.

 

[The Witch Son]

Veora didn't speak much with her father after dinner, which concluded with Lady Rowan doing her utmost to salvage the evening while Veora busied Lady Sylvie by telling her of the north and anything else her heart desired. Cosette was a subject carefully avoided and danced around. An easy thing to do when three Ladies wanted nothing more than to pretend it didn't happen.

But now, in the morning, she'd have to answer for what she let slip. Veora couldn't leave here risking Cosette’s loose tongue. Was the girl too foolish to trust after all? Veora hoped to the god’s not.

As she was to become a royal, not Veora.

A maid led her to Cosette’s door and knocked on it for her.

There was no response at first, the maid flashed a nervous smile for Veora before knocking again. Louder. Harder.

After a heartbeat of silence, a low moan sounded on the other side of the door. Followed by an irate “Fuck off with all that knocking!”

The maid merely sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Apologies Lady Veora. Lady Rowan is always especially testy following evenings with her father.” One would think the she beast would be grateful for the agreement between houses Rowan and Grimald. It was a match far more auspicious than Cosette deserved.

The maid tried again, this time on the third knock the door unlocked and swung inward, revealing the disheveled, half asleep Cosette. All pretense and finery had been thrown out the window, it was clear she’d just crawled out of bed and pulled on a well loved, if not run down gown.

She squinted at the figures before her, vision blurred sleep and a throbbing headache.

“Oh hells bells”, she groaned, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She stepped into the hall, leaving the door cracked behind her. “Is there something I can help you with Lady Veora?” she asked, fixing the woman with a flat stare.

“Decorum would state that you pull a robe on and invite me in for tea, I believe, Lady Cosette.” Veora stated, pleasant and thrice blessedly patient.

Speaking to the maid more than Cosette. “And scones, if you have them.” A clear dismissal.
Cosette rolled her eyes. “Decorum doesn’t let me describe where you can stick that sentiment, but I’m sure you can guess.”

Veora watched the maid retreat and shoved past Cosette, inside her room where they could actually talk.

She staggered back fairly easily, mind muddled from a lack of sleep and the lingering effects of the drink. Lord knows she’d overindulged at dinner and in the aftermath of her discussion with Lord Rowan. The last thing Cosette needed was Veora taking a (mostly deserved) turn at lashing her verbally.

“Look, can we skip past the yelling phase? My head is killing me.” She made her way over to the bed, waving dismissively to an open chair. She plopped onto the side of the bed, holding her head in her hands.

Cosette’s room was rather disorganized and lacking in any real personalization. It contained all the hallmarks of high society, without any trace of the person it was meant for. Clothing was strewn about the floor, the dressing area a catastrophe of different makeups spilled over the vanity and smeared on the mirrors.

It was clear that her room wasn’t often seen by the maids, as Cosette never took guests to her own quarters. She felt no shame in the display, as she’d never invited Veora to come to her talk.

Honestly, Cosette hoped for a brief spout of strongly worded finery before Veora decided she never wanted to speak to her again.

Which was fine as far as Cosette was concerned.

“Sure, so long as you can tell me what that storming off was for last night.” Veora continued to keep her tone neutrally clipped as she chose the vanity to sit at, primly folding her hands on her lap.

“Oh gee Veora, I wonder?” Cosette said incredulously. “Take your pick really. The wine wasn’t great. I hate dining with my father. Ah what else…?” She tapped her chin, pretending to ponder.

Veora rolled her eyes at the sarcasm.

“Oh,” she snapped. “I’m also not a fan of having my marriage arranged without my knowledge and having said marriage be a trade for a bloody fucking letter endorsing your bogus fucking bid to wed our prat of a prince!”

She glared daggers at Veora. “I’m not sure how you failed to notice during our time together, but I despise politics. In all its forms. So whatever long standing game you're aiming to play, I’ll kindly ask you to leave me out of it.”

“I wouldn't have had to come up with that little ruse if it weren't for you shoving your foot in your mouth.” She snapped coldly.

“I made clear to you already what my plans were and you think my cleaning up your fumblingly loose tongue is going to in any way change that? I should think not Cosette. I won't be marrying Prince Tristan and you don't have to marry anyone so long as you can manage to not trip over your own feet long enough to make up your own mind about where you're going and when.” She continued on, words coming quicker and testier.

“Now I have to pretend to your father's proxy that I intend to do something I have no intention of doing on top of every other thing I must juggle on top of my head.” She finished. Sighing as she looked around.

“Do your maids neglect your care?!” She said exasperatedly looking at the vanity mirror.

“Don’t you dare try and pin this on me! Or change the bloody fucking subject. As if you care about my lack of cleaning services”, she jabbed an accusational finger at Veora. “You walked into that dreadful dining room with a little half-cocked scheme and decided to keep it to your bloody self! How the hell was I meant to play along to a game I wasn’t even aware of? And now I’ve got this cursed marriage contract tying me to the north!”

Veora’s lips thinned, knowing that at least that part had been on her. She had assumed Cosette would say nothing. Which wasn't fair. Cosette was young, so much younger than herself, and she could remember how clueless she had been at one point too. Well, maybe not that clueless, but she hadn't been the viper in the grass she is now either.

It was her own fault really. Cosette had gone and gotten comfortable too quickly once again. She hadn’t hated the idea of being courted by Rhory, perhaps this time she’d actually find the process to be enjoyable. Cosette couldn’t think of the last time anyone had taken a legitimate interest in her. Not the rumors surrounding her, nor her father’s wealth. Her. But now none of that mattered.

“Fucking hell Veora, do you know what my father will do if I try to worm my way out of this fucking agreement he’s struck with your father!? He’s so fucking eager to have me carted off to whatever poor bastard your father chooses, he doesn’t even care if it’s Rhory! H-he…” Her voice broke, both from rage and a sudden bout of hurt as the previous night’s memories came flooding back.

“Cosette…” Veora could see how utterly lost she looked, and had not Cosette comforted her not too long ago?

She got up and sat close to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Information is something you can wield like a blade Cosette. And I am certain you weren't taught to wield a blade carelessly. Nor too should you wield information loosely.” Veora urged gently.

Cosette rolled her eyes, her gaze shifting from the other noble.

“If you're smart about this, if you calm down, you could see that this is a boon I’ve handed you. Not a curse. So long as you're promised away to the north, no one else can promise you away elsewhere. And you can't think that I would allow anyone to force you to take any suit forced upon you.” She was lying through her teeth, soothing someone she had every intent to back into a corner and marry off.

The god’s had no mercy.

She soothed anyway, “You could see this as the chance to get everyone off your back. The thing is done as far as they are concerned. They needn't know anything else. You’d have time to figure out your own path. Make your own choice.” So long as that choice was exactly what Veora needed.

“In a strange way, I suppose your storming out overshadowed that tidbit about the blood sacrifice. So… well done.” Veora gave a half smile to beckon forth Cosette’s.

Cosette glanced to the hand on her shoulder, muddled brain trying to parse out the fine prose Veora was giving her. She scoffed, and managed to not act upon her urge to smack that prim smile off Veora’s face.
She settled for removing the hand from her shoulder, before standing and taking to pacing around the room.

“Don’t you fucking condescend to me,” she snapped. “Don’t you fucking talk to me in that sweet, honeyed tone. The way a nursemaid might redirect her rowdy charge. The way all the prissy noble ladies do when they're trying to charm themselves into the good graces of some shit sired noblemen. Don’t.”

“Do you mean the way friends try to comfort one another? Why is that so bad?” Veora’s half smile twisted down, struggling to force its way up.

Cosette knew she’d fucked up. She’d assumed that tales of Veora’s birthday had circulated and been distorted as all news did down south. It tended to happen so quickly in the southern court, she honestly hadn’t considered the fact news had to travel much slower when coming from the north.

How the hell was she meant to ‘wield information like a blade’ when she didn’t fucking know who she was meant to be fighting!?

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “My father has made two things clear to me, Veora. One, he doesn’t care who Lord Grimald chooses to be my suiter. Now you might assume that Rhory would be the best option, but let's not kid ourselves. Your father is an astute man, who clearly loves all of you dearly. He’d never complicate Rhory’s road to being Lord of the North by saddling him with a wild animal like me.”

She gestured to herself, knowing her disheveled attire only furthered her point.

“I think you find it easier to think of yourself as one.” Veora noted sadly.

“And two. If I were to, oh I don’t know, break this agreement by running off or sabotaging the match… He’ll send Sylvie away. And completely disown me.”

The latter didn’t actually sound so bad, at least then she wouldn’t have to worry about her father’s overbearing influence. She’d be free to act on her own half baked plans for the future. A future where she wasn’t doomed to exist on the fringes of fine society.

Meanwhile alarm shot through Veora wordlessly, was she pushing Cosette toward her previous future more quickly? And Lady Sylvie…

Cosette wiped at her eyes, anger mingling with sorrow at the notion of Sylvie spending the last of her days rotting in some convent.

“You don’t get to sit there and pat yourself on the back for worming your way out of the situation you fucking made! It isn’t my choice. Not when it dooms Sylvie to a convent! Not when I’ll be stuck with whatever low born, back water suiter your father chooses because we both know I’m not good enough for your brother!”

She stopped mid step, a small gasp escaping her as she fought the urge to cry.

“Is that what your father says?” Veora got up and met her where she was, blocking her from further pacing.

Cosette could’ve pushed past her, but the fight was rapidly fizzling out in the wake of emotions she’d rather not dwell in. Emotions she was so used to hiding behind a snide smile and a blade.
“Of course it is, who else would be so kind?” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, trying to stop the tears rapidly forming at the corners of her vision.

“My father…” She placed a hand on her shoulder once again, this time gripping it, “Is honorable, and good, and thoughtful, and kind. And he agreed to no other matches than Rhory. Nor could he, the men of the north are not backwater barbarians no matter what southerners might think. They can not be commanded the way southern lords can. Your father doesn't know this. Your father hardly knows anything, least of all when it comes to you. Don't try to stubbornly prove him right by playing to his hand Cosette.” No, instead Lord Rowan would be playing to Veora’s hand.

“Play your own hand. You do have to get married at some point, you don’t have to pick a man that's like your father, and you don't even have to pick Rhory. Not if you don't want to…” She shook her a little, “And the only people telling you that you aren't good enough for anything is yourself and your father.” Veora had to hammer into Cosette’s mind the idea of having to get married, she couldn't let her contemplate any other possibilities.

“When are you going to stop trying to convince everyone that you're awful Cosette?”

Cosette blinked, a few stray tears managed to streak down her cheeks. “You sound like my sister,” she chuckled after a tense moment, a shaky sigh escaping her lips.

“Real specific, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “You sound like Brigitte. You probably would’ve liked her… Hell, she would’ve loved you.”

No she wouldn't have. Thought Veora, a less naive and older woman might see Veora’s desperation for what it is and keep Cosette far away from her.

A concerned sister might fight against Veora and her march towards turmoil having anything to do with Cosette, and keep her away from the line of fire.

But Brigette was dead, and she could not pull her sister away from being a part of other people's battles.

Cosette shook her head. “...When I was up north, it was easy to pretend that nothing down here really mattered. No one in your father’s court knew who the hell I was. And those who did well, they kept their mouths shut. It felt like I could fucking breathe for the first time in seven years.”

And now she was back here, stuck in the auxiliary home of her dreadful father. “...You make these things sound so simple, Veora. Like ladies every truly have a choice when it comes to such things. No…I’ve never intended to spend my days as a dutiful wife to a lord who didn’t love me. I won’t wind up like my mother or siblings. I’ve always planned to leave this dreadful place just as soon as-”

Veora gulped, but listened intently, nodding.

Sylvie died. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “...What sort of man weaponizes his own children against one another?”

Lord Rowan was never the supportive father Veora was lucky enough to have. But in her youth, he’d never been so cold. Cosette learned as she’d grown older that her father’s words of praise were merely a deflection to keep her at arms length.

He’d let her run wild. He’d let her train with his brother. He’d let her be…well, herself, more or less. Under the pretense that her birth had to have meant something. Anything to cling to that old tale of good fortune passed through generations of House Rowan.

The plague had changed things. Taken things… taken people. Taken what little bits of affection Cosette had gotten from him.

“An awful man and selfish Lord, Cosette.” Veora concluded. “The opinions of such a man mean nothing. So arrogant he can not tell when he is being led around by the nose by some girl years his junior that he just met.” And he wouldn't be able to tell until it's too late, Veora concluded, promised.

“Plenty of girls don't have a choice Cosette, your father is lying when he says that you don't either. He-” Veora tucked Cosette’s hair behind her ear, “He isn't expecting you to give yourself a chance. He isn't expecting anything at all from you. Take that chance. Use this agreement to your advantage instead of stomping your feet and giving your father what he wants.”

“What he wants is further proof that he can make you act like a fool led around by a cruel man’s whip. There are girls who have no choice Cosette, truly no choice, and they are of much lower birth and they act more like you than you'd like to ever believe. And I don't say that hatefully Cosette. I don't say that to make you feel poorly of yourself.” Veora rocked Cosette back and forth a little, her other hand having found it's way onto Cosette’s other should at some point.

It was strange, having such a comfort come from a friend Cosette had barely know. It all felt so similar to something Sylvie or Brigitte would do. She bit her lip at the thought, guilt hitting her like a wave in light of ruining Sylvie’s first proper social gathering in months.

“I say that because you stand in your own way just as much as your father does. You could have the power to help Sylvie if you wanted it. But stomping out during dinners and losing your head over every little thing your father says won't gain you that. You aren't fighting any battles here Cosette you just lose them and then run away outside to swing your sword and pretend you have some measure of control.” Veora was breathing hard now, becoming misty-eyed.

“I've seen what happens to you Cosette, if you run away.” Her voice broke, she gulped and gripped Cosette harder, “You die screaming and burning. You don't win by running away Cosette, you just die.”

Veora wasn't there, and yet the images of Rhory and Dhara in that forest aflame plagued her all the same.

“So stay and fight for your future. Live.” Veora urged.

A moment of silence passed, and then another. Cosette’s head swam, trying to come up with an artful response. “You say strange, and alarming things when you're upset, you know that?” Cosette finally managed a chuckle, as if Veora’s warning hadn’t sent a shiver down her spine. Cosette held no faith in any gods, but the fear and sorrow in Veora’s eyes spoke to some horrid event that only she was privy to.

“Such fancy prose is wasted on me, Lady Veora. But…I know you mean well. I-I know you must’ve meant well, even when having to cover for my blunder. Things weren’t supposed to happen like this. I- I’d wanted Sylvie to enjoy the evening. Hell, I wanted to enjoy the evening, as much as one can anyways.”

She tried to downplay how much Veora’s words bothered her. “I’m afraid I’m not cut out for the sort of politics meant to truly make any amount of difference in Sylvie’s life. I’ve nothing to offer my father, even more cooperation at this point is mostly moot.”

Perhaps it needn’t be that way? Perhaps, with time and some proper effort, she could turn this situation into something beneficial for her? Cosette couldn’t fathom how.

But maybe Veora almost certainly could. “If you have any suggestions other than stick around or face certain peril… I am all ears.” She managed another smile. Which quickly shifted into a blank look, as Cosette remembered she’d forgotten something rather important.

“Fucking hell Veora!” she began, excitement taking over her sorrows. “We’re going to be traveling south together!” She looped an arm around Veora’s shoulders, pulling her in for a side hug. “If there’s anyone who can teach me how to screw over a pompous old man with an authority complex like a proper lady, then it's you. And if anyone is going to get you to actually hit the broadside of a stable. Its me. And we’ll have all the fucking time we need! It couldn’t be more perfect!”

Cosette certainly had a way of absolutely flabbergasting people. She hugged Cosette back, utterly stunned. What, in the name of the gods, north and south, did she mean she was traveling south with them?! Right into a den of vipers and schemes she could very well lose her head in…

 

[StarryKnights]

Veora had come to terms with Cosette traveling south into the capitol by now and calmed down once she parsed what that meant.

The future queen of the north could keep her head, most likely. Almost definitely. So long as she was careful to ensure that Cosette could not get caught up in any potential failing on Veora’s part. If the Emperor was assassinated before Veora could make out who did it and why and her father was framed for the act again there was no reason Cosette had to be tangled into House Grimald's lot. As the daughter of House Rowan who was not officially betrothed and only loosely promised away she could find safety amongst her allies.

Officially, on paper, Cosette was traveling to see her sister at court; The Lady Lucinda Keath, and her two sons, Cosette’s nephews. She could sink back into those relations and avoid accusations of conspiracy.

Even Veora, Lord Grimald's daughter, had escaped that much. Though perhaps Tristan had more to do with that than general silence on her innocence. She never knew, having spent that crucial time crying and begging rather than listening and learning. Curse it all.

She recalled the brief hope she had of being sent home, before Rhory declared war on the throne and she became a prisoner…

So, it was no matter. What was done was done and Cosette now rode with them south, on horseback, while Veora alternated days this time. One in saddle and the other in wagon. A punishing routine but much more bearable than before. At least she could feel her legs getting stronger instead of weaker now.

And Cosette was right, there was great advantage in having the time to talk and teach each other where they could. Cosette had to learn the skill of politicking and Veora had to learn how to defend herself.

“You should have a care for etiquette Cosette. Not for etiquette’s sake but for your own utility. It's not just smiles and curtsies you know.” Veora said, about a week away from Blackgate. Cosette had been learning the motions and was able to parrot back much of what she'd been told. But she still struggled with the why of things. With true commitment to the act.

Parroting the niceties would only take her so far. But weaponizing her charms to get what she wanted had always left a foul taste in Cosette’s mouth. Deceit and minor manipulations didn’t come naturally to her, nor had it interested her in her youth. Her uncle had valued a straight forward (often blade forward) approach to things, which Cosette absorbed.

For all the skill Claude passed down to her, the finer points of socializing were not among them.

“Think of it as akin to… akin to the number of men you take into battle. As a lady you are afforded, starting out, twenty or so men, depending on your rank. And every move you make thereafter affords you more or less men. And those with more men tend to win battles. A lady’s reputation and decorum are thus, your defensive and offensive force in court.”

Cosette chuckled. “Always with the colorful prose Lady Veora.” The sentiment wasn’t lost on her, but try as Veora might it was hard for Cosette to truly care about such matters.

“I’m afraid you’ll find my reputation is already in tatters. I can’t imagine it will serve me well on this prissy battlefield.”

“That's part of your issue. You see it as prissy and beneath you. But is something that's been running your life and limiting you really beneath you? You don't have to like politicking, but if you don't mind it then it'll mind you. It’s been minding you…” Veora pointed out, racking her brain for a way to help Cosette rehabilitate her reputation.

“It's not minding me,” she scowled, clearly annoyed… Even if Veora did have a point.

“It's almost like you think that everyone who participates in court acts the same and has the same reputation. You don't see nobles as people, just this idea you have in your mind about what they are. Nobody at Blackgate has met you in a while. You can just do what I’m doing.” She shrugged.

“And what’s that exactly? Playing the long odds with some obtuse goal only you’re privy to? Tell me how that’s any different from any one of our contemporaries. Especially the ladies all vying for the prince’s attention.” Cosette rolled her eyes.

As if all the noble houses weren’t somewhat after the same thing. Securing and growing their own influence, preserving the family name and bolstering their good fortunes. The lords and ladies in court were all vying for the same thing. Power and influence. Two things Cosette never had any interest in.

“The goal of survival isn't obtuse Cosette. And there's different methods to go about that. Namely being in a good and powerful position.” Veora pointed out.

“Make them think accounts of you are conflicting. After all, I have given your mother, sister, and father every indication that I’m going to court to participate in the running for the position of Crown Princess. But I have no actual intention of doing so. So when your mother spreads that gossip around it will conflict with my otherwise aloof actions towards the Prince. Leaving people not to trust the rumors about me they hear. Or perhaps to think I am only pretending to be disinterested. Or any number of things. Even later when or if news of my birthday feast prophecy reaches them. They won't know what to think and only know that they've seen me attend church often. I seem like just some young Lady.” Veora concluded.

“You don't have to foster a reputation of the perfect lady with perfect etiquette and perfect mindfulness and pretty prose and elegant posture and any other number of compliments I could give myself.” Veora laughed at her own expense. She recalled being young, and fostering just that very image, obsessed with perfection and grace as she was. She had this idea that if she was perfect then her life would be perfect. And she had been so sure she'd been justified in this careful discipline when she was rewarded with a perfect golden prince who loved her.

“You can be known as straightforward and no nonsense. Lady Brooke is just that. She rules the Great House Brooke with her daughter as heir and is respected for her attitude and demeanor. Lady Dustin in the north is much the same. But those ladies are also mindful of their manners and know how to navigate their position in relation to others. They know what they can get away with and what they can't. You're young, you're allowed to make mistakes and you'll see plenty of ladies make them in court.”

“I mean I won't be making any mistakes.” Veora smirked, “But that's just me and my reputation.” She sighed prettily and tossed her hair for added effect.

Cosette gagged at the display, a mirthful smile on her lips. “Pull it back now, sure-shot, or you’ll make me ill.”

She did smile, but her apprehension was still evident.

“So what then? I’m expected to bite my tongue, bat my eyes and idly scheme alongside the rest of our ilk? Knowing full well, at any breath, they could turn on me with vitriol unrivaled in the animal kingdom? I’ve never known anyone to be as ruthless and uncaring as motivated nobility, Veora. I can’t stomach it. I honestly don’t see how you can.”

Veora rolled her eyes, “They care about plenty Cosette you just aren't any good at parsing what it is they care about. And you take everything incredibly personally. You think it's about you, and most of the time it isn't.”

Cosette scoffed. “Yeah, right. It's about power. It's about prestige. It’s about all the bullshit that couldn’t find or bother me were I to disappear into the wilderness.” Not as if that wasn’t an option now, but still.

“And to be specific, I don't think you should try your hand at scheming.” Veora railroaded over that particular, “In fact you should stay far away from that sort of thing in a roundabout sort of way. Scheme to stay out of schemes. Scheme to not be used for other people's schemes. And maybe scheme to stop sneering at people who have skills you sorely lack.” Veora cocked an eyebrow, “Although maybe your arrogance can work in favor, you are a highborn girl after all. Your dignity is supposed to be higher than that of most of the nobles who will be at court.”

It was mostly petty house nobles in number, with proxies representing the greater house lords who tended to spend most of their time in their territories.

Cosette sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t help that I haven't had the best experiences with the courts and what not. Even outside my own mishaps, I’ve seen my sisters competing against one another for a favorable match. I’ve witnessed despair, like when Sylvie learned her prospective match was no longer interested due to her illness. She cried for weeks. She’d truly convinced herself she loved that spineless bastard.”

Contempt crept into her voice, tinged with rage. “Veora, if we come across him and his new betrothed, I might just knock him down a peg or three.”

“As is your right! You don't have to pretend to like people who have done your kin ill. Backing out of a betrothal agreed upon is looked down on, done often enough but not expected to go without consequences. You are perfectly within your rights to look down your nose at him. Especially if you are his superior in rank, who is the man?” Veora seized the opportunity to help Cosette come up with the appropriate response to a slight in court.

“Veora, I meant knocking him down some stairs. If you manage to spin that in a way high society might approve, I’m all for it.” She shook her head. “His name is Willmund. Willmund Stoneway. God, what a shit sounding name. Makes my blood boil just to speak it. As you can guess, he’s the heir to House Stoneway.”

She could vaguely remember her father being very excited at the prospect of one of his daughters marrying the heir of one of the Great Houses. Plus, the boost in trade between the lands following the marriage.

“Well that's a fantastic way to get Sylvie sent to a convent isn't it?” Veora unkindly pointed out.

“I’ll make sure to visit her on our way back and let her know that her sister was too interested in satisfying her own anger to think of the consequences of her actions.” She shrugged, seemingly aloof to this whole possibility.

“Well obviously not now. Not when I’ve got this bloody betrothal hanging over my head like a bloody ax.” Any excitement she might’ve felt about being actually courted by someone was up and gone. Now she was gifted, a promise of cooperation between Houses Rowan and Grimald.

“But really Cosette, the heir to a Great House has the responsibility of producing heirs, and Sylvie’s health was brought into question. Some women die bringing their first child into the world let alone the whole troupe of spares they're expected to produce.” Some women died after their second child…

“He might not even have had a say in whether or not he was permitted to marry Sylvie. His parents probably had a good deal to do with it elderly as they are. He's their only progeny and it took Lady (name) many years of praying and hoping to finally have him. Their heir must secure the house line.”

“Yes, because lords need to breed and ladies need only birth sons,” Cosette rolled her eyes, the distaste apparent in her voice. “Oh how I am looking forward to that aspect of marriage, like a hole to the head.”

She supposed it could be worse, at least Rhory was decently handsome. Well, probably more than decently. Cosette wasn’t exactly an expert on all things attractive. Veora probably was probably not the person to discuss these concerns with, dense as she was Cosette knew that.

“You should ignore his presence and speak to him only in short, clipped sentences. You should absolutely not resort to violence. And I don't think anyone would begrudge you if you looked down upon Halsey Groves too. She is from a petty house and not given her new rank yet.” Veora finished, the beginnings of another new course of action coming into fruition.

The Princess Alegra’s troupe of ladies in waiting were quite different than the crowd Veora found herself in last time. In fact…

“I’ll speak to him long enough to tell him to jump in a lake, and then ignore him, got it”, Cosette flashed a thumbs up, only halfway joking.

Veora heaved a sigh, “I suppose you do need a way to work out your frustrations don't you? I can't rob you of that comfort. Though little comfort it'll be when they knock you on your arrogant ass.”

“You dare doubt my ability? I’ll knock any half wit lord onto his ass.”

It was decided in Veora’s mind, “You should join Princess Alegra’s group when they train in the south courtyard. Maybe that nasty pack of she-wolves will humble you. Or at least tire you out so you don't get yourself into any trouble.”

Oh, well that actually sounded interesting.
“You mean to tell me there is a sanctioned area where I could rough up the pretty faces of the biggest I'm uncultured in this bloody nation? Oh Veora, you should’ve led with that.”

Even she was vaguely familiar with Alegra’s notorious inner circle. They ran the show as it were, with the princess acting as the ringleader.

It wasn’t easy to guess why they acted the way they did. Who was going to tell the princess or her dear “friends” no?

Veora didn’t grace such language or haughtiness with an answer, she just gave a noncommittal sound of doubt. Cosette would find out when she found out.

“Who knows, maybe they’ll put up a proper fight. Nearly every time I fight a man they are either too timid or utterly dismiss me out of turn.” She smirked, thinking of how flustered Rhory had looked when she’d offered, jokingly, to spar.

It had honestly been rather endearing, though she wasn’t sure if she’d just caught him off guard, or he worried about harming her. “I offered to spar with Rhory up north. I wonder how that would’ve gone. Hmm, perhaps I’ll find out when I’m carted north for our impending shackling.”

Veora was pleased to hear the girlish nervousness in her voice, “I take it to mean he didn't dare? Good, it's been hammered into his brain since he was little that you're supposed to protect women not bloody them up. A lesson too few take to heart I’m afraid.”

“Honestly, it was a bit disappointing. Would’ve liked to have gotten a taste of northern steel before coming home.” She shrugged. “Ah well.”

A niggling part of Veora wondered, “Have you?... Fought, I mean really fought, a man before? One of any skill? A knight? Or have you only sparred men that were too afraid to hurt the Lord Rowan’s daughter? I don't mean that in a condescending way. I just mean…” She trailed off.

“The man who trained…and practically raised me for half the bloody year was one of the finest knights House Rowan has ever known,” a note of pride entered her voice. “My uncle, Ser Clade Rowan. The original heir to my house, and one of the greatest men I’ve ever met. He knocked her around plenty in my youth, but as I grew older-”

She chuckled. “He still knocked me around. But I did manage to leave a mark on him once.”

A nostalgic feeling washed over her at the thought. “Right on his bloody cheek too, under his left eye. I’d been aiming for the pupil outright but…” she shrugged. “He and his wife taught me everything I know in the ways of combat. And perhaps,” she scratched at her cheek. “Their pragmatic if not hands on methods for umm, problem solving.”

Thinking back, most other opponents had been in fact, too afraid of harming her. Or completely unconcerned with her harming them.

Bloody fools.

Veora nodded, satisfied, Rhory had been trained hard too and he turned out to be quite competent on the battlefield despite the lack of experience fighting anyone outside of Mountainkeep’s training yard.

A genius tactician too… but it wasn't as though Veora could very well brag about that to Cosette…

Well maybe, “Rhory does the north proud too, not just in combat himself either. He really is a genius when it comes to battle tactics. Not that I want things to come to that. But when it came to the battles, he only ever lost one.” Veora didn't let that statement become too macabre, and waggled her brows at Cosette good naturedly.

“Oh, and you’re going to leave me guessing? Lady Veora”, she raised a hand to her chest in mock shock.

“How cruel.” She laughed.

“Rhory struck me as a pleasantly surprising lord to be around. If I’m being honest I. was well,” she twirled a loose piece of hair around her finger somewhat nervously. She also made sure no one was about to be listening.

“Once you get past his pigheadedness.” Veora gave an agreeing chuckle.

“I’d been looking forward, to uh.. Well. I suppose the letter writing would’ve likely turned to courting at some point. Right? I’ve uh, never actually been properly courted before. I wasn’t exactly receptive to any advances. Tossed a few letters every now and again and after a while, I guess most of the houses took the hint.”

“Well I hope you don't do that to my brother. You must have made quite the impression on him. As he's not the sort of young man to give ladies false attentions and go about on dalliances. He's never asked for a correspondence before.” Veora noted.

“He doesn't make false promises or pretend. So don't go dangling him along and make him fall for you if you just intend to toss him aside.” Veora warned lightheartedly, “You're my friend and I quite like you but he is my brother. He’s more sensitive than you could ever think.”

“I never had any intention of doing that. I shall write to him. In fact, I may send him something once we reach Blackgate. It might be a bit forward. But I’ll likely be away from Rowan territory for some time. And I don’t want any of my mail being intercepted by my parents.”

Her mother absolutely would take them and read them. “Best if he intends to write in the next month or so, to send onward to Blackgate. I mean, Luci will probably still want to read them, but I prefer that to my parents doing so. Plus I can tell her no with much less backlash.”

A warning pinged in Veora's mind about Lucille Keath. She was the eldest of Lord Rowan’s progeny and no insipid idiot herself. She, on paper, would surely have no objection to the match. But if she did…

Cosette sighed. “I’d rather avoid making my time in her care any more miserable, but my correspondence with Rhory is my own. Even more so in light of this arrangement. It hardly matters, I doubt Rhory will refuse the arrangement, regardless of his personal feelings.” Still, she did rather like the fact that Rhory seemed uniquely interested in her.

Lucille Keath would probably just push Cosette even further into Rhory’s arms. Veora suddenly hoped the eldest Rowan daughter decided to meddle. Give Cosette someone to push against as she so often loved doing.

“Your sister is wed and experienced, she might have some insight if you need or want it. But I agree with you, best to be yourself in your letters. That's the most important thing. Any courting that goes on should be between you and him, not anyone else.” Veora nodded emphatically, greatly pleased with the way this particular plan was going.

“What difference does it make now? The decision is done. Whether I make a fool of myself or somehow manage to utterly charm the pants off your brother, it doesn’t matter.”

The betrothal wasn’t official as of yet, but it would be soon enough. Cosette wasn’t sure how the announcement would be made. Sylvie’s betrothal to Ser Stoneway had been celebrated with a large banquet. Brigitte’s betrothal to Viktor had been a somewhat smaller affair, but Cosette did remember how excited the two of them were to have father’s blessing.

“What I’m about to say is…foolish. I know this to be fact.” Cosette sighed. Her gaze drifted skyward, to the rolling clouds so high up above.

“My uncle was…a bit of a romantic. He abandoned his status as heir to the Rowan name to be with his love. A woman, hell, a bandit. Annalyn Mayers. One of the fiercest marauders to lead a campaign across our land. They fell for one another not over correspondence, or out of obligation. They simply…fell. Over time. And over battle. My uncle was smitten the moment he caught sight of her face, dirty as it was beneath the grime of her helmet.”

She chuckled, remembering fondly how Claude would tell this story. She could picture it now. The chirping of the crickets, the glow of a campfire. Sitting at Claude’s feet, staring wide eyed up to the glittering sky.

“Twas a dreadful day when the plague took them both from me,” she shook her head, not wanting to dwell on the memory. “Claude gave up everything to be with her, he didn’t care about the consequences. He would’ve disappeared into the wilderness, never to be seen again had my father not offered him the chance to serve as a border guard. Far from Castle Seventhson… Easier to avoid the controversy I suppose,” she shrugged.

She often wondered why Claude had bothered to stick around, to remained chained to the land he’d been so ready to give up.

Veora listened intently. It sounded just like the stories and songs she'd been enamored by as a young girl.

“I’m under no delusion that anyone would make such a sacrifice for myself. But I can’t help but long for something similar. Can you imagine?”, she looked at Veora with a sardonic grin. “Allowing to love and be loved simply for the sake of love itself? No obligations. No duty to the crown or the people. I’ve always thought perhaps, if I managed to escape, I could find something like that.”

No, thought Veora. But she used to.

It was a childish dream, born from Cosette's admiration of her aunt and uncle. And partly out of the misconception that Cosette would never be wanted by any sort of proper noble.

Her father had all but given up trying to find her an appropriate match, when Cosette’s loose lips and Veora’s cunning gave him the perfect way out.

“You can laugh if you want. It's foolish. Even I know that.”

“That story sounds similar to Tristan and Isolde… I don't think I can laugh at that dear Cosette. Being a bandit is a silly desire but it's romantic, I’ll give you that my bandit friend.” Veora smiled fondly. Thinking not so fondly of the harsh realities of such a life path. Blood, hunger, exposure, and blazing fire. No, best Cosette took another path. It had to be better than that fate.

 

[The Witch Son]

Giles puffed away at his pipe, an activity he only used to do sparingly, but now found comfort in doing nightly, stressed as he was.

He'd had a little over a fortnight to adjust his expectations and in his humble opinion he's done that rather well. If he was going to bend and allow Veora to go south with him then he might as well not try to stamp out her attempts to help.

She'd always been clever, but never had he seen just how well she could maneuver when she needed to. That worried him. But that worried him far less than the cold numbness he saw before Lady Cosette arrived at Mountainkeep.

It was like some semblance of his little girl was back. Animated as she was going back and forth with Cosette on curtsies, the philosophy of manners, how each house worked in tandem or against one another and all manner of things.

He’d sometimes intrude, to try his hand at a curtsy or two or act as a soundboard, but for the most part he was just happy to watch. Not wanting to intrude. As if he could somehow ruin the fragile peace and perseverance between his daughter and her new friend.

They even thought he didn't know Cosette was teaching Veora marksmanship. Oh he knew. He just felt no need to stop it, and Veora didn't want him to know, disturbing as her reasons were, that she decided to learn was a comfort to him.

“Ser Viktor, Lady Cosette, well met. Couldn't sleep?” Giles got up and made room on the log he had planted his posterior on in front of the small fire.

“Nerves have me too, it's been decades since I’ve been this far south.” Giles confessed, they were about a day’s ride from Blackgate now.

Sleeping on the open road wasn’t usually something Cosette had trouble with. Quite the opposite in fact, she relished getting to stretch her legs and to doze under the starry sky. But the closer they got to Blackgate, the more nervous she became. Not only did she have to stay with her dear elder sister, but she’d also be accompanying Veora during her time in court.
At least that seemed to be a part of Veora’s scheme.

She wasn’t entirely sure what her friend was after, only that somehow, she had a part to play. No amount of crash courses in the finer points of etiquette would prepare her for the horrid den of the royal court.

So, on this the eve before their arrival, she turned to Viktor to help take her mind off of things. Conveniently enough, he’d been on guard duty when she’d come to him, dressed not in her bed clothes, and carrying a sword.

Never mind the impropriety, Viktor knew Cosette wouldn’t be swayed. The two had sparred for some time, just outside of camp to avoid waking the others.

The clash of steel accompanied by the sweat on her brow, the ache in her limbs, it was all enough to take Cosette’s mind off of the series of strange and borderline disastrous events which had brought her to this moment.

And, as they walked back to camp, they stumbled across yet another disaster.

“L-Lord Grimald”, she stammered, suddenly very aware that she had never had any sort of proper conversation with the man. Not at Mountainkeep, and certainly not during their stay at Selmire.

Viktor stood resolute at her side, and bowed his head in respect. He nudged Cosette slightly to do the same, as if that could absolve her of any guilt she felt over the mess that was that dreadful family dinner.

Gods she’d outed Veora’s insanity, and stormed off after being “given” to Rhory. She couldn’t fathom why Lord Grimald would wish to be anything but cold to her. She stared blankly at the space he’d made for them, uncertain if she should take it.

“You could say that.” She spoke carefully, and set her blade beside the fire.

“Cosette has a rather indepth way to combat insomnia my Lord”, Viktor offered the man an easy smile, and took a seat beside Giles, motioning for Cosette to do the same.

She did so after a moment.

“Running the body to quiet the mind, not a bad remedy. But it stops working when you get older unfortunately.” Giles noted, envious of the time when he was young and simple. Age piled on the responsibility and worries.

He was quiet for a moment, before suddenly, “I wanted to thank you Lady Cosette, by the by. You've brought my daughter back to life these months. She was a shadow of herself after...” He looked up, as if he eerily expected the stars to move rapidly as they once did.

“Oh I don’t think I’ve done anything worth thanks Lord Grimald.” Cosette replied nervously. “I merely responded to an invitation.”

“Sometimes we do a great boon to others by simply being there. We had thought Ragnorak was upon us. Do you know what Ragnorak is?” He asked the pair.

Viktor followed his gaze, looking far more relaxed at the sight of the open sky. “I’ve heard a bit about it, something to do with the end of days? I’m afraid I’m not well versed in the old ways.”

Cosette was even less so. “My uncle was familiar with such customs, he took a liking to all manner of myths and legends.”

Only a second later did Cosette realize what she'd said. “Ah, my apologies. I meant no offense.”

“No no, Lady Cosette,” Giles assured with a hand, “I would agree with you. Or would've. Still do. Mostly. Our gods are not like Aule. My wife, the first one, Princess Carina, she would tell me about him, and she noted to me that in the north the gods are less… how did he she describe it? Ah- divine, and untouchable. Our gods have walked among us, our legends and myths much closer to home. That perhaps our stories tell metaphors to describe the truth that happened in our past.”

“I see. That is a far cry from the faith of Aule. I cannot say I’m on expert on that particular faith either.”
She’d never found much appeal in worshiping some unknowable entity which dwelled beyond true understanding. One’s life was shaped by their choices, their actions. To dedicate them to forces beyond one’s control.

It made Cosette soundly uncomfortable.

“Whether they were real or not was always less important to me than what we learn from the stories we tell, so I think she had a point maybe. And maybe we simply don't know what the truth is on that matter anymore, long ago as it was.” Giles mulled over the matter, as much to himself as to his company.

“A great philosopher she was, Princess Carina, she couldn't hide how intelligent she was, never saw reason to try. Her brother on the other hand…” Giles shifted, leveling them both with a look, “He hides his own mind well. He might act the jolly fool but the man’s as sharp as the claws of his house sigil. He knows more than he lets on and always keeps his cards close to his chest. No one ever knows everything he’s plotting and he's happy to leave them guessing.” Giles cautioned.

Lady Carina sounded like a breathtaking woman, Cosette understood she was Rhory and Veora’s mother. She supposed that explained much about the both of them. Beautiful and bright, in their own ways.

“Any cunning I know I learned from him, so be careful in front of the man. Little though you might be addressed by him. His children I am sure he raised to be no different.”

Cosette managed a smile. “I assure you Lord Grimald, I have little desire to be in the presence of the royal children. Clearly I’m not the sort to subject myself to such cunning.”

Viktor cast a look of warning, and Cosette was careful to choose her next words carefully. “And I mean that in the most proper way possible,” she chuckled. “Whatever that may be.”

“Just as well, Lady Cosette, less trouble for you that way. And trouble we do head into… on that note, I must ask you to be careful of what you say. Even if it is to someone you think is of no consequence. I’m sure Veora has given you your matching order, she's given me mine-” He rolled his eyes good naturedly, “But in all seriousness, best to act as though you don't know much of what happened up north. You weren't privy to it and you bore no witness to any of it. You just know there are those that like to spread nasty rumors to relieve their boredom. That is all.” He advised carefully.

Lady Cosette was no daughter of his to command, but even so. He needed to impress upon her that discretion was needed.

“Not that you appear to be a gossiper yourself.” He added.

A flush of warmth flooded her cheeks as Giles spoke, a wave of embarrassment regarding her foolish actions in Selmire. Her gaze shifted downward, a bemused smile on her lips. She knew an order when she heard it. Though this was far nicer then what her own father would say.

“Right. Of course Lord Grimald. I’d never want to inadvertently spread such nasty things. I’ve never been the type, usually can’t stand most forms of gossip.”

Cosette couldn’t be sure her blunder hadn’t led to one such rumor, as her mother was a prolific gossiper. Hell, so was Sylie, though she rarely meant any ill will. Certainly she wouldn’t seek to harm Veora, who’d been so kind to her sister.

One would think Lady Rowan wouldn’t wish to sully the relationship between the houses given the looming betrothal. But Cosette couldn’t be certain.

“I-I do want to uh…apologize for what I said at the dinner. It was out of turn, and mostly spoken out of annoyance. I’m sure you could tell from my countenance that I do not enjoy family meals. That’s no excuse however, and I hope it doesn’t cause problems once we reach Blackgate.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow, as Cosette rarely offered such a well worded apology. Servant gossip, coupled with speaking with Sylvie meant he knew what Cosette had said.

It didn’t necessarily surprise him, as Cosette tended to not consider the impact of her words or actions. And usually, there was little consequence for it. At least none that impacted anyone but herself.

“I’m not certain what my father might’ve told you, but I’m not always so thoughtless. Usually. Mostly. Heh, this isn’t very convincing, is it?”

Lord Grimald cracked a smile, “Oh you don't need to impress upon me what sort of man your father is Lady Cosette. His reputation precedes him. And I do not think age bettered his particular faults… I was sorry to hear his lands were plagued so, and for so long.” He thought for a moment.

“But you needn't worry of what he says, we're each responsible for our actions alone, not what others say of us or might do for us. Misguided though they may be, begging your pardon on that account Lady Cosette but I do not agree with how Lord Rowan handles these matters. Even so,-” He leveled her with a knowing look, “We can each of us only choose how we will conduct ourselves and be responsible for that. Those who seek the truth will see us for what he are. And those are the sort of people whose regard we can truly count on and value.”

“I see a young Lady who means well, even if she doesn't always do or say the right thing. And that matters a great deal in a person.” Lord Grimald concluded, heaving himself up and grunting with the exertion.

He stretched his back too and fro, sighing, “To bed with me, try to get some rest, the both of you. Our journey is nigh end, and our trials just begun.”

Cosette’s eyes widened, and as Giles passed she hastily attempted to wipe them before any stray droplets managed to fall.

“G-goodnight, sleep well.”
Her voice was a bit shaky, but there was a smile on her face.

Viktor nudged her gently. “Heavens, get ahold of yourself”, he teased.

“You shush now”, she sputtered after a moment, not bothering to hide the few stray tears.
For a moment there, Giles had resembled her uncle, he was often the more sensible one.
Caught off guard by kindness she didn’t feel she deserved, Cosette missed these sort of sage talks with him.

And she missed when her father wasn’t quite so jaded, hardened by years of loss and a difficult rule. He may not have ever been as doting as Giles, but he certainly hadn’t always been so cut throat.

“Let's retire. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” She sighed, finally managing to calm herself some. Rising to her feet, she dried her cheeks as best she could, lest anyone else catch a glimpse of her sorry state.

Their arrival was impending, and with it Cosette felt things would never truly be the same. She could only hope that would be for the better, rather then worse.

 

[The Witch Son]

“It IS[/i] important Cosette, the scout that father sent ahead to inform the Emperor that we would be arriving came back with an entire processional guard. They're all in their ceremonial gold armor and red cloaks and that means we will be presented to the Emperor in the throne room. Everyone will be watching us like hawks. What we put forward sets the tone. You need to look like a northwoman, so that everyone knows who you are soon to be betrothed to.” Veora’s fingers worked as quickly as they could, intertwining and braiding Cosette’s hair into an intricate northern style.

Cosette was no stranger to having her hair twisted and pulled, rarely did she come out looking remotely like herself. Having her hair styled daily was an effort Cosette rarely gave any thought to, simply brushing it so it remained somewhat orderly and pinning it back with a comb was usually the best she could do.

“Do all the northern women fuss so greatly over their hair?”, she rolled her eyes. Maybe she wouldn’t be so resistant if she could see what Veora was doing.
Or perhaps if she wasn’t so obviously dressed for the north. Her betrothal wasn’t even official, yet it already felt like it was taking over aspects of her life.

“Stop fussing as if I’m torturing you Cosette you aren't going to look like a doll, that isn't the point today. You're going to look quite different from me, I can assure you.” Veora pinned the last braid back and turned Cosette’s head this way and that.

“Look, look. I’m not lying! You look…” Veora's scowl of concentration broke into an excited smile. She grabbed her hand mirror and flipped it around to show Cosette her work.

Veora had done Cosette’s makeup minimally, with a more plum tinted rouge on the bridge of her nose and at the center of her lips. Like her color was flushed from the sun instead of from blushing. Her eyelashes were brushed with a grey ash lacquer rather than a black, to give a more corresponding look to her hair. The center focus on her face was quite different from the way Lady Edith had done it at Selmire. In this, she did match Veora, but where they differed was in the hair.

The overall effect was rather pleasing and a far cry from the full face of bullshit her mother pushed on her during such important times. She ran a finger along the edge of her eye, banishing a minor itch without smudging Veora’s hard work.

She wasn’t above wearing makeup, she just wasn’t great at applying it to herself. She had gotten rather good at aiding Sylvie when dressing. But taking the brush to her own face was akin to pulling teeth.

Most girls of noble birth had a flock of maids to attend them, back home Lottie was the only one who’d put up with Cosette to try.

Cosette’s hair was done back from her face, two braids made up of a combination of smaller braids and loose hair were gathered back at her temples and pinned at the crown of her head, to fall down and be braided into a fishtail braid down her back, and tied together with a brown leather tie. The effect was beautiful, but also fiercesom, more suited to Cosette’s nature than the loose curls young Ladies favored in the south.

“Huh, well I’ll be damned. Pain in the ass braids actually came out looking decent.” She tilted her head this way and that, admiring how positively fierce the ensemble looked.

The most Cosette knew to do was a basic french braid, something she’d done for Sylvie countless times. They were serviceable at best.

The dress was appropriately extravagant given their impending meeting with the highest Lord in all the land. Cosette had only glimpsed the man from afar, she imagined Emperor Erasmus didn’t even know who she was properly. Still, she was dressed impeccably, the deep dark blue contrasted nicely with the stark lightness of her hair. The long sleeves were a bit annoying, and the slight curve of the neckline accentuated her chest some. She usually donned her family colors, but the wintery hue served as a not so subtle nod to Cosette's future as a northern noble.

Was this what a wintery lady was meant to be? Refined, yet fierce? The thought brought a small smile to her face. She supposed she didn’t hate the concept. Or the look.

Veora wore her hair half up, twists of hair pinned at her crown but free of braids. The way she remembered the portrait of her mother in the royal hall had it. She meant to invoke her image today. Down to the color of her attire, a deep burgundy red silk overlaid with a dusky blue translucent fabric. Paired only with a simple gold cross on a simple chain. The Princess Carina come again to Blackgate’s court.

The last time around she'd just done her best to look pretty in her best color. A pale blue gown she could show off her embroidery with paired with her best jewels.

This time she dressed with a purpose. This time she would remind them all who she comes from. That she was above their games and she wasn't afraid.

Even if the truth was that she was terrified.

“I look primed to kill, and you look… well. Not like that.” She teased. “But you’re every bit as lovely. Though I suppose that's…the point, right. How can anyone hope to doubt your lovely self?”

Veora batted her lashes and framed her face for effect, devolving into giggling as she took Cosette’s hand and dragged her out of their tent. Some of the men would break down their tents and follow behind, what was important now was that they hastened to their respective positions. Veora abstained from riding for three whole days so that she could ride side saddle with her father out front in the procession (and walk about gracefully with none the wiser), followed by Cosette as a Lady and guest of theirs and then the higher ranking knights that served as her father’s men, along with Ser Viktor, ten paces behind them.

Cosette had only witnessed this procession a handful of times, as she didn’t often visit Blackgate. To go from bored spectator to participant was quite a shock. She didn’t understand why the Emperor had sent the royal parade out to greet them, surely given all the chaos and uncertainty regarding the faked missive, they ought to be more cautious, right?

As she swung up onto her horse and took her place in the procession, Cosette tried to remember all that she and Veora had discussed. A month’s worth of etiquette lessons was not sufficient for such an occasion, but she’d have to make due. Even Cosette knew better than to make an ass of herself in front of the Emperor.

That sort of debacle could have lasting consequences, not just on her, but on her siblings as well. Perhaps if she kept her head down, and her sarcastic facial expressions to herself, she and her family could make it through this blemish free.

Oh, she could only hope.

The royal guard procession was not something that just any noble got as a greeting when entering the fortressed city. It was an honor to be welcomed in thus, and her father had been very aware he would be given that honor. It was why he sent a scout ahead instead of simply arriving unannounced like most would.

Giles knew Emperor Erasmus would call the court in the throne room to greet him. It was all about setting tone. What Veora didn't know, was that for Giles, it was also about flirting.

The royal procession was the answer to his question, do you want to see me again. An emphatic yes.

Their party passed through the city gates, straight down the King’s path to the entrance of Blackgate. The city was abuzz with markets and makers and the common bustle of life. People formed crowds here and there as they rode on to see them, but the curiosity was not overmuch and people seemed less inclined to pause their schedules for something they'd seen before.

One Lord was the next. What difference did it make what this one’s particular name was?

They arrived at Blackgate, aptly named for its great and terrible metal black doors, propped open and guarded at all times. Except in cases of siege.

Cosette had only ventured to the royal keep a scant number of times, the last of which she’d been with her father and uncle. She couldn’t even remember the exact boring business her father needed to attend to.

She did remember riding through this entrance with her uncle, eyes wide with a mix of wonder and apprehension. Now, they brought on a bout of nostalgia.

Onward they pressed into a front courtyard, until it was time to dismount and make their way to the throne room on foot. Lord Giles led the way while Lady Veora and Lady Cosette walked arm in arm behind him.

The throne room itself was not far from the entrance of the castle, strategically placed due to the frequency with which the commons came to petition. What it was, was massive. Massive and grand.

Cosette had never been here before, and looked around in silent awe. This was the seat of power in all of Dorelith. An opulent place, foolishly so. She couldn’t imagine, sitting upon those great golden thrones and lording over droning masses all day. And lord above, were there plenty of curious fools there now. Cosette couldn’t help but shiver due to the numerous gazes aimed in her general direction.

During times of petition, the nobles who did not occupy a seat near the throne occupied the upper ramparts. Not typically filled to the brim like they were now. Those who did not fit up there or who simply wanted a closer look now filled the sidelines. Tall pillars acting as the invisible line they stayed behind.

The thrones themselves were gaudy golden things, laid in black velvet and red rubies, identical twins that sat next to one another to seat the two imperial highnesses. Similar matching stools were placed on the lower tiers of the marble steps one had to climb to get there.

Ostentatious and uncomfortable looking, why would anyone want to sit on solid gold all bloody day? Cosette could only wonder.

Veora did not look up in awe at the tall glittering ceiling and stained windows, like she had the first time they'd arrived here. She knew this damned castle already like the back of her hand, could walk its halls blind. No longer did they hold wonder for her.

Instead her eyes were downcast and demure, her posture perfect, and her long stride made with calm, confident steps. Above all, she refused to look at him.

Cosette was nowhere near as composed, but she managed not to trip on her dress and hide her nerves as they walked. She silently prayed this would be a quick greeting, and she could slink off to her sister’s place.

Lord, how sad it was that she longed for such a thing.

Lord Grimald however, knew just who to look at. Gods he’d gotten so gray.

“My warden of the north! Climbed down from your snows and your mountains and deigned grace us here, down south?” Emperor Erasmus’s booming voice carried well through the throne room, used to using it as he was.

Lord Grimald shrugged, “I figured you missed me by now.” He said smirking.

The Emperor threw his head back in laughter, slapping the arms of his throne and springing up. He strode down the steps, nearly giddy, and pulled Giles into a tight hug the moment he was within arm's reach.

The display caught Cosette off guard, but she just managed to suppress the shock on her face.
She certainly hadn’t expected the Emperor to be so excited to see Lord Grimald. Veora hadn’t mentioned the two were close.

The onlookers clapped, some heartened by the affectionate display and some yet not enthused pretending to be otherwise out of posterity. Veora paid them no mind at all and smiled warmly, noticing the Empress trailing behind and following serenely down the same path as her husband…

Arm in arm with her son. Whom Veora did not look at. And speaking quickly to the Princess Alegra on her other side.

“It's not fair, Giles, you kept your figure and I added to mine. Not to mention that hair.” Erasmus released Giles enough to hold his forearms and take a good look at him. He reached up and ran a hand through the still inky black tresses, mussing it up a little at the top and laughing.

Lord Grimald laughed with him, backing up and stepping aside so he could get a look at his daughter and her guest.

“And who is this!?” The Emperor exclaimed.

Veora let Cosette go and curtsied low, the act as natural to her as if she'd been born to it. Cosette silently cursed as she moved away, as if Veora offered any sort of protection from the attention centered on the group.

“I would think I was seeing a ghost if it weren't for your height child. Come come, let your uncle have a good look at you.” Emperor Erasmus extended his hand, which Veora took, letting herself be led a few steps out to the right.

Like a sweet little puppy. God the notion made Cosette ill. Perhaps this joyful, apparently family, reunion would mean the Emperor wasn’t interested in her being there.

“Incredible, I have seen the portrait many a time. And her daughter is her very spitting image. The late Princess Carina, come to us again.” The Empress reached them and inspected Veora along with the Emperor.

“You honor me Empress, it would please me greatly to not only look as my mother, but to one day possess the same grace.” Veora inclined her head, still keeping her gaze carefully trained on the imperial couple, and not their son. Which is something Veora would call a resounding success, thank you very much.

“Oh I think you do niece.” Emperor Erasmus assured her, “But..” He looked to his wife, “I think the best way to hone grace would be at the careful tutelage of our Empire's mistress. As one of her ladies in waiting, no?”

“A worthy proposition. Let it be so.” Empress Alexandra smiled as a resounding round of applause followed the announcement.

Veora could hardly believe the stark difference her appearance made in her reception. This had not happened the last time. To be one of the Empress's ladies…

Veora knelt and kissed the rings of her uncle and aunt respectively as the applause roared in her ears. Rising slowly and inclining her head, stepping back till she was next to Cosette.

She could not decide if this was a good thing or not.

“And who have you brought with you?” Emperor gestured to Cosette.

She stiffened slightly as the Emperor’s gaze fell upon her. She took a breath to steel herself. One brief interaction and she’d be done with this whole thing.

“Lord Rowan’s daughter, Lady Cosette. She comes to visit her kin in court and traveled with us south.” Lord Grimald explained.

“And how fares our Lord Rowan, Lady Cosette?” The Empress enquired, beckoning her forth.

She stepped forward, managing not to bungle her curtsy. “He fares well, Your grace, in both mind and body. My thanks for your concern. Father sends his regards as well.”

Was it a faux paux to imply such a thing when her father wouldn’t have had any idea they would be meeting like this? Cosette didn’t know. It seemed like a nice thing to say.

It was far nicer then; if your that curious how my pig headed father is doing, you ought to ask him yourself.

“Splendid! I shall take my Lord Grimald to discuss things and catch up, we shall reconvene at dinner.” Erasmus looked impatient to drag Giles away, arm slung over his shoulder the other hand gripping a piece of his cloak.

Such an abrupt exit might’ve left any other lady feeling snubbed, but Cosette was simply relieved she didn’t need to kiss his bloody rings.

“Come, your daughter will be settled in the royal wing along with your things. Empress Alexandra has already seen to your apartments.” Erasmus tugged Giles along. Who took a glance at his daughter as he followed obediently.

Veora nodded.

And just like that, with the Emperor taking his leave, the crowds moved. It was over, and the encounter had told them much of the newcomers. It was time to disperse and discuss what this all meant for the realm.

Leaving The Empress and her offspring to deal with Cosette and Veora. If the Empress was surprised at her husband’s lack of patience she never showed it. If anyone looked curious or bothered in fact, it was the Prince and Princess respectively.

Veora, who had stepped forward and taken Cosette’s arm once more, asked, “Your Grace?”

“Yes Lady Veora?” Empress Alexandra tilted her head.

“I am quite attached to my companion, and hopefully soon to be kin, Lady Cosette. Might we share sleeping arrangements? I am told that Lady Keath has two rambunctious boys that Lady Cosette might like to seek refuge from on occasion.” Veora joked lightly.

Cosette’s gaze swiveled to the woman, her confusion twinged with shock. She didn’t have time to get a word in before the Empress, which was just as well. Nothing Cosette was thinking at the moment would’ve been appropriate for court. Veora you little fucking minx, you could’ve bloody warned me!

“Ah, yes I believe they are at that age where they seem to be running poor Lady Keath and their nursemaid ragged. Understandable. Of course Lady Cosette may join you, your arrangements are certainly spacious enough. Why don't we all head up there now? And you two can rest up until it's time for dinner. T’isn't an easy trek you two have made…” The Empress’s dreamy, soft voice lilted out.

Prince Tristan cleared his throat.

Veora still did not pay him any mind. Cosette briefly glanced toward him, just managing to not scoff at . Many a lady across the empire would’ve done most anything to have the opportunity to be near Prince Tristan. Let alone speak to him. Cosette felt well, nothing. Sure the prince was handsome by most measures, Cosette found his features akin to a brick. A blonde, fair skinned brick, with a personality as abrasive as stone.

“You can be introduced at dinner Tristan.” The Empress corrected her son, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

“It takes but a moment, mother.” He protested lightly.

“You will survive waiting until dinner to make the acquaintance of yet more fair ladies. You might not survive being late for the training yard again though.” Princess Alegra magnanimously supplied.

“Quite. Thank you Alegra, why don't you escort your brother there?” The Empress dismissed them both posthumously, before turning away and leading them out of the throne room.

Dutifully, Veora followed along, arm in arm with Cosette.

Cosette wore a benign smile, internally she was freaking out. She wanted out of the bloody palace, not to be staying at it! No doubt another wrinkle in Veora’s master plan. She cast her friend a long, hard look, as if she could puzzle out what the hell she was thinking.

 

[StarryKnights]

Pleasantries about the long trip, unsuccessful enquiries into what is going on in the north, and a general description of certain tapestries or portraits donned on the walls they passed later and they were finally alone.

One specific portrait made Cosette pause, just for a moment. The woman depicted was a thing of beauty, with umber waves of dark hair and eyes as blue as the sky above. The nameplate on the portrait identified the woman as Princess Carina.

A name that rang most familiar, not only due to the fact the Emperor and Empress had mentioned her, but it stirred a long forgotten memory. A lesson she’d shared with a most insufferable tutor, who’d had the unfortunate task of ensuring Cosette’s education.

Lady Carina. The sister of the Emperor. Her gaze trailed to Veora, who looked perfectly at home within the palace walls. Every bit as serene as the woman who’s visage hung above them.

The Emperor had called her his niece for crying out loud. Cosette wanted to smack herself for missing such an obvious detail.

Daughter of the princess, and literally spitting image of her as well. It was like she was walking with a ghost.

The apartments given to Veora alone were extensive, there was more than enough room for Cosette. A solar, a terrace, a bedroom, and a dining room. Decorated in red, black, and gold.

“You're welcome, I take it you didn't fancy sleeping with your nephews. Cute as they may be. I think sleeping here with me will prove more restful.” And last time around, Tristan would sneak into her rooms at all hours of the night. Just to talk, sometimes just to sleep. But that would be impossible with Cosette here.

She would probably run him through herself if he tried.

Cosette flopped onto the nearest seat she could find, groaning. “I’m not certain having to mind myself around the palace is any less excruciating than wrangling toddlers. I’ll withhold my thanks until I decide.”

She sat up some, and fixed Veora with a questioning stare.

“Were you not planning on telling me about your relation to the Emperor? I honestly hadn’t a clue until we passed that portrait! Your mother’s portrait. Gods above Veora, you're like a ghost wandering these halls.”

Veora framed her face and batted her lashes once more, recalling to the motion when Cosette thought Veora was just trying to look pretty.
This earned her a half smile.

Cosette supposed that explained why she’d been so particular about her attire that day. She smirked. “I assume it was intentional then, sending some sort of message with your ensemble.”

She gestured to Veora’s outfit. “I’d say it worked given your impending position as a lady in waiting.”

“I actually wasn't expecting that part. To tell you the truth. The Empress's ladies are all women her age, I would be the youngest in the group. It will be a genial way to avoid the cliques of ladies our age that are busy clawing each other's eyes out right now. So I shall think of it as a good thing, and see what other advantages I can met out by making the acquaintance of ladies with some actual power.” Veora pretended to faint on a chaise lounge and sighed, closing her eyes.

Cosette shrugged. “I imagine if anyone is going to puzzle out an advantage from such a horrid position, it’ll be you.” So long as she didn’t have to do it.

“The Lord Chancellor wasn't there, everyone else was. But the Lord Chancellor was not. Why? And where was he instead?” Veora asked out loud.

Kicking her feet up, Cosette idly counted the glittering tiles high above in the ceiling. “Does it matter? One less pair of eyes on us seems like a blessing.”
Though it was strange that someone with such a high rank had missed an official calling of court.

“Does that bode well, or poorly for things to come?” She glanced at Veora questioningly, “What does that sharp intuition of yours think?”

“Oh it matters… I know it was him who sent the fake letter. He's probably scrambling to find a scapegoat. And he'll succeed. Of course he will. He's a very resourceful man. Someone else will take the fall for him. If I had to make an educated guess, I would suppose his secretary. Which means he has to sacrifice his bishop, and replace him with someone else.” Veora was more speaking to herself than Cosette at this point.

The other woman arched an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you know that for certain?” She supposed only a few could even access the necessary materials to fake such a document, the chancellor was chief among them. It did beg the question. Why would the chancellor, or anyone in the palace for that matter, try and goad the north into a pointless war?

Such matters made Cosette’s head hurt.

“Who else? I had thought of turning a maid into a spy to tail him, but we've forced him on the offensive by derailing his plans and coming here. So there's an opportunity to take his other bishop off the board and steal him for myself. A maid is a useful spy, but she doesn't know the intricacies of his dirty work. His next secretary will.” Veora concluded. Truth was, she wasn't ready to tell Cosette how she was entirely certain it was Cromwell and no one else who started the pointless war between the North and House Day. Because he told me he did and I know exactly what kind of schemer he is. Would need too much elaboration.

Ah, this scheme was truly layered. Cosette could only nod as Veora continued.

“So there we have it, my next big move Cosette. I will turn his next secretary against him, easy enough to do if I angle myself as the next Empress and point out how disposable Chancellor Cromwell’s last was to him. He’ll leap at the chance to safeguard himself. Hedge his bets.” Veora opened her eyes and looked at Cosette.

“You make a good soundboard.” She complimented.

Cosette shrugged. “Glad to help. Though your plan does seem rather convoluted.”

She supposed that was a mark of how good it was. A direct confrontation without any proof would do Veora no good, and the missive itself wasn’t enough. So, a bit of espionage would be necessary to sort out the truth of the matter.

“Makes me wonder why the chancellor, or anyone for that matter, would go to so much trouble. Especially given how close your father seems to be with his grace.” she chuckled. “On the long list of things I was not prepared for, those two being so casual together is near the top. Right along with being carted to the throne in the first place.”

Cosette rose to her feet to stretch, the brief stint in court left her feeling stiff as a board.

“So, what are we meant to do now? Until dinner I mean? Like, must we sit in this gilded cage all bloody day?”

“You know Cosette, you might have guessed they were close friends if you caught up on your history. My father is the main reason the Emperor has his crown. The Emperor loves my father so much that he made him his brother true by giving my mother's hand in marriage to him. There's a song about it I believe. Paw and Claw, dragon and bear, he wed a woman so fair?” Veora didn't move from her lounge.

“And in any case I am actually tired. Why don't you go greet your sister?”

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Bold of you to assume I remember so much from my early education. You should’ve seen how exasperated I made my poor tutor”, she tutted. “I think I drove the old biddy to retire when she was through with me.”

Ah, good times. “I’ll be sure to brush up on your family history before the next test.”

Visiting her kin was the whole reason Cosette had traveled southward, but the notion of doing so still filled her with a bit of dread. Lucille could be so bloody overbearing. She’d be over the moon when news of Cosette’s betrothal reached her.

“Must I? I think I’d rather have another go in court.” Voice thick with sarcasm, Cosette readied herself to leave. Moving to the door, she stopped a passing maid and requested she send Viktor her way, so the two may make for the Keath homestead. Luckily it was within the capital’s reach.

“Tell Lady Keath… Tell her that seashell earrings are going to be popular in court soon.” Veora smiled to herself, as of it were an inside joke.

Cosette rolled her eyes and waved as she headed out the door. Seashell earrings? Of all the silly things to wear in ones ears.

 

[StarryKnights]

From the window of the carriage, Cosette stared at the manner which loomed ever closer. Her sister, Lady Lucinda Keath, resided within the Keath estate within Blackgate for most of the year. Her husband, Malcolm, tended to travel between it and the proper Keath holdings located outside of the city.

With any luck, he’d be out and Cosette wouldn’t have to deal with the man. Bloody prick that he was.

“Try not to look so dour Lady Rowan,” Lottie tutted. At least she managed to look excited about the visit. Lottie had reared all the Rowan girls in some aspect, poor old biddy was well past the age of retirement. Yet, she persisted, partly out of stubbornness and in part from loyalty.

“You might as well ask me to smile while pulling my teeth Lottie.”

Lucinda was already married by the time Cosette was born, the two only interacted during visits in which Luci would come home, which were fairly common when Cosette was young. A house full of rambunctious daughters needed a little extra help.

Cosette vaguely remembered how Luci had objected when her father gave her permission to divide her year between Castle Seventhson and the border lookout where their uncle was stationed for most of the year. Something about allowing Cosette to run wild and turn into a beast of a woman. She was around. What was it? Seven, eight perhaps?

“Well, this time around you have wonderful news to be announcing! Lady Lucinda shall be thrilled you've been found an auspicious match.” The old maid gestured toward her wintery attire. “You look the part even.”

“Not by my design, Lottie,” Cosette chuckled.

The carriage turned as the road curled upwards, toward the manner looming on a hill. Lottie waved a hand dismissively. “Regardless, it is wonderful news to be sharing. But I will caution you to watch your tongue regarding well…”

Lottie wasn’t privy to all that had happened in Mountainkeep, but word of Veora’s birthday feast fiasco had, at the very least, permeated even the lower social circles. Personally, the notion of a supposed voice to the old Gods terrified the old woman. She was a devout follower of Aule after all.

But it was rare to see Cosette get along with someone her own age, Lottie didn’t wish to ruin that.

“Right”, Cosette rolled her eyes. Last thing she needed was to aid those rumors her mother had likely started.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the house, already Cosette could see staff coming to tend to them. Up front, Viktor hopped down from the drivers bench, followed by the driver himself. A mousy looking man, sent by Lucinda herself following word of Cosette’s arrival at the palace.

Oh lovely, she’d have to explain being welcomed directly in the throne room as well. Cosette could already feel a headache settling in.
It only grew worse as she caught sight of Lucinda herself, resplendent in a gown of green and gold, exiting the estate and standing at the top of the stairs.

“Chin up dear, let’s aim to make this a positive visit.” Lottie flashed an encouraging smile, which dragged one in turn from Cosette.

“I shall try my best Lottie. But, say a prayer for me, would you?”
The carriage came to a stop, Lady Lucinda could be seen at the top of the stairs, positively elated.
A wave of dread washed over Cosette as the precocious form of her young nephew, Eric, peeked out from behind his mother’s skirt.

“To Aule, The Old Gods, or whomever else you prefer. I feel I may need it.”

Lottie merely chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do Lady Rowan.”

Being bombarded by an excited five year old was a special sort of hell. As she disembarked from the carriage and made her way inside, little Eric was all over Cosette, eyes wide with a mix of wonder and fascination.

“Cos- Cos! AuntCos- Cos!”
He couldn’t quite pronounce her name correctly, the abbreviated variation he settled on was close enough to her nickname that Cosette wondered if Lucinda had told him to call her that.

She scooped him up and into her arms with a laugh. “You’ve grown! Where’s that little whelp who used to cling to my skirts?” She tickled him, enticing sweet pearls of laughter from the boy.

Eric had been barely two the last time Cosette had seen him, Lucinda had brought the babe home for a visit with her good Lord husband. Lord Keath could kick rocks as far as Cosette was concerned, but his son was an absolute delight, even as a precocious two year old.

“Auntie! Where’d you come from!? Who’s this old lady?” He pointed directly to Lottie, who chuckled. “And this guy Who’s he!?” he flailed, nearly tipping backwards and out of Cosette’s arms as Viktor walked up behind them. Grinning, he tousled Eric’s hair affectionately.

“Slow down Eric, one question at a time”, Cosette laughed, setting him back down on the ground.

“This peach of a woman is Lottie. A nursemaid and all around pain in the a-”
Lottie cut her off with a sharp cough. “Decorum, Lady Cosette. Pretend to have some.”

Viktor laughed at that before introducing himself. “I’m Viktor, a knight in service to your grandfather. And your aunt’s keeper at times.”

Cosette rolled her eyes and gestured
“This is Viktor, he’s a knight who serves Lord Rowan, your grandfather.”
Viktor felt a bolt of pride as Eric’s eyes grew even wider. “A knight!? A real honest knight!?”

“Of course! Even if he doesn’t look it”, Cosette elbowed Viktor playfully. Lucinda frowned at the display. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward.

“Now, now Eric. Do not be rude to our guests.” Lucinda ushered her son to stand at her side, which after a moment of prodding, he did. He continued to fidget excitedly as Lucinda greeted her sister.

The hug was a bit awkward in part due to the height difference and the bulge of Lucinda’s belly. “Welcome darling sister, to our home. I trust your journey southward was pleasant?”

Her smile might’ve been gentle, but her gaze was calculated. Cosette knew Luci was dissecting everything about her appearance and mannerisms, trying to gleam an answer to her unasked questions.

The most prolific of which had to have been; why are you dressed for the north?

“It was most pleasant sister, thanks in part to some excellent company.” It sure hadn’t been the visit to Selmire that made it worthwhile. “I’m sure you're aware I had traveled northward, to House Grimald’s territory at request of their eldest daughter, yes?”

Her father had arranged this visit sometime during her northern stay, Lucinda likely didn’t know about the impending proposal. But she did know there was plenty of northern gossip to be had.

“Of course! Father wrote to me not long after you left for the month-long journey. I’m relieved to see that you've come home unscathed.”

Little Eric looked bored to tears, clinging to his mother’s skirts while trying to keep still.
“Well, let us go inside. You can rest in the parlor, and our servants will ensure any baggage you have can be carried inside.”

“Actually,” Cosette smiled. “I shall be rooming in an apartment within the palace during my stay.”
The look of shock on Lucinda’s face was priceless, how Cosette wished she could capture it forever.

“R-really? That is quite the shock. I’d heard a royal procession had welcomed a noble into the city, were you among that party?”
The implication was clear, Lucinda wished to know if she’d had an unscheduled audience with the royal family.

Cosette’s smile grew wider. “I was in fact, though the procession wasn’t for me. It was for Lord Grimald. Please, let us go inside. I shall tell you everything.”

_+_+

The Keath estate was nothing short of magnificent. Cosette wondered why one woman and two children needed such a ridiculous amount of space. The tall ceils were laced with intricate silver detailing, the likes of which had to have been hand placed into the home.

Surely it was befitting for the noble family, and bustling with all manner of servants. Lottie was quick to disappear with them, while Viktor took the time to reunite and catch up with some old friends in service to the family.

This of course left Cosette to fend for herself, Lucinda already had a grand meal planned for the two of them to share. Even little Eric wouldn’t be joining them. His crestfallen expression upon being turned away made Cosette’s heart ache.

“Now now, none of that.” Lucinda chided. “You have your studies to attend to, and your aunt and I have much to catch up on.”

“But Mama!”

“No buts little one. There will be plenty of time to play another day.” Lucinda pointed to the stairs. “Up you go now. Your tutor is waiting.”

Defeated, he sighed. “Yes ma’am.”

“Chin up little one,” Cosette crouched and patted her nephew on the head playfully. “We’ll play together another time. I promise. I shall be in town for a while you know. Plenty of time for,” She leaned closer to whisper. “Mischief.”

Eric giggled, and pressed a finger to his lips. “Our secret.”

Cosette beamed. “Our secret. Off you go now.”

Cosette would’ve preferred having Eric around as a sort of buffer, but that wasn’t to be today. No, she’d face Lucinda’s scrutiny alone, this time.

Suddenly, Cosette was struck with how fortuitous it was that she could escape to the palace if the need arose. Veora had thought she’d need a break from her nephews. No, she’d need a break from her sister.

“So, is little Edwin asleep then?” Cosette asked, taking a seat on one end of the sofa.
Since it was just the two of them, Lucinda had forgone using the spacious dining room. Instead the sisters dined in the sun room.

Adorned with all matter of greenery and large windows, it was a cozy setting, outfitted with an opulent sofa and chairs to host guests. An impressive spread of food had been provided, placed upon a table Cosette suspected was typically used as a workbench. Lucinda cared less about propriety when it came to entertaining her family.

“Yes, the poor dear hasn’t been feeling all that well these past few days. With luck he’ll be feeling better and up for visiting soon.”

Cosette remembered how ill little Edwin had been when he was born and how ill Lucinda herself had become. Specifically she remembered because Lord Rowan worried that if the boy was infirm already he wouldn't be a suitable heir to the family. As the second born to his eldest daughter apparently that burdened little Edwin with the responsibility to rule.

It struck Cosette as profoundly foolish to burden a toddler with such responsibility.

“How awful! I hope he's feeling better soon. I was looking forward to getting to spend some time with him. The poor deer probably doesn't even know me.”

“Well, this is your first visit since he's been born.” Lucinda countered, grabbing herself a plate and filling it with decidedly small portions. There was fruit, smoked meats and cheeses on display. “ No doubt he'll be just as fond of you as Eric. You've only met him once and you made quite the impression.”

Cosette smirked. “Quite, he seems quite rambunctious. You and the nursemaids must have her hands full.”

A wry smile donned Lucinda’s face. “Quite. Now then, tell me how your trip north went? It's not often one gets to travel so far, both from the capital and Father’s territory. And I’ve heard so much about the northern lands.”

Superstitious garbage more than likely, Lucinda was looking for confirmation on such matters.
Cosette waved a hand dismissively. “I'm afraid it was nowhere near as rural as you might have imagined. Mountainkeep is just as resplendent as this, or any other Lord’s home. The people were welcoming and the festivities grand. I was invited by Lady Veora, who’s birth we were celebrating.”

“Yes I've heard of her. She is the niece of the emperor, if I remember correctly, daughter of Princess Carina.”

“The very same. She is the very picture of grace. You must imagine my surprise when I learned she is more of a southern lady than me.”

Cosette let that implication hang a moment as she prepared a plate for herself. “The ball was truly grand, and I rubbed elbows with all matter of lordlings and ladies. It wasn’t all that different from the insufferable partities thrown here.”

“And yet,” Lucinda sipped from a glass of wine. “You seem to have actually enjoyed yourself. Quite out of character for you dear sister. I’ve heard wild tales of your escapades at other such gatherings.”

The last time Cosette had attended such a gathering, she’d dumped a glass of wine on a would be lordling seeking her attention.

It wasn’t exactly a glowing moment, though Cosette regretted nothing. “I did have a good time. I had good company, Lady Veora and I spent many hours together.”

Archery training amongst other things, none of which Lucinda needed to know. There would not be a repeat of her blunder at dinner. It was only a matter of time before the mixed word on what happened reached the capital.

Hopefully talking Veora up now would mitigate her sister’s concerns when the time came. “Perhaps I’ll bring her for a visit sometime, I think you two would get along well.”

Lucinda chuckled. “Oh? I’d love to hear how she came to that conclusion. I adore seashells. I already own earrings from them. How odd. I would love to meet her. She’s made quite the impression on you, clearly.” Lucinda looked her up and down, noting the distinctly northern colors and hair style. “She picked this ensemble then? For what purpose?”

“Well, in part to make sure I was presentable for court, we were greeted directly by the Emperor himself after all.”

“A true honor that is Cosette. I hope you were well behaved.”

“Please,” Cosette scoffed. “Even I am not fool enough to be tactless in front of the royal family.”
It wasn’t as if she was nervous the entire bloody time, wishing for it to be over.

“She certainly gave you a northern flair. I do like the braids however, and the blue pairs nicely with your skin tone.”

“I’m glad you think so, I’ll be wearing plenty of it in the future I imagine.”

“Oh, and why is that?” The smile curling the corners of Lucinda’s mouth made it clear to Cosette she had an idea as to why that might be.

“On the journey home, Father and Lord Grimald came to an agreement. To betrothe me to his son, Rhory. Veora was even so bold as to address me as her future kin to the empress. Imagine that.”

“Truly!?” Lucinda set her plate aside and scooted closer. She grasped her sister’s hands, startling poor Cosette as she tried to drink her wine. “Tis wonderful news dear sister! A match for you at last. And a truly auspicious one at that!”

Mentally, Cosette kicked herself for even bringing it up. Now, she’d be forced to field a millon questions on the matter, and on Rhory.

What was there to tell? She’d barely spent any time with him before they had to leave. And half of that they’d been at odds with one another.
Their final conversation lingered on Cosette’s mind however, as well as his invite to return someday.

She’d imagined going back as a friend to Veora, not as a bride to be.

Dinner was short lived as the conversation became more lively, Cosette regaled Lucinda with tales from her northern trip and the venture home. Nothing unsightly was mentioned, Cosette figured she could worry about that when the time came.

For now, she merely wanted to impress upon her sister that she had a match, and it was a match Cosette actually approved of.

A fact that made Lucinda happy beyond words. Finally, her darling sister could become an honest woman.

Cosette opted not to share how much that sentiment made her skin crawl, though Lucinda’s words would go on to bother her for the rest of the evening, and during the ride back to the palace.

She said her goodbyes to Lucinda, and peeked in on little Eric and Edwin, both of which remained asleep.

“Sleep well little sister. We shall reconvene another day, I look forward to hearing more about your travels…and your betrothed.”
Lucinda was all smiles, Cosette knew she meant well. She was clearly elated, and relieved, to hear she had found the proper path at last.

Cosette wondered how that would all change once the northern gossip reached Blackgate.