Fantasy - Wildfire - [CLOSED]

[pointmango]

Her response fueled a fire within him he had not felt since spending that first night with her. His hand gripped around her back more fully, pulling her flush against him as his fingers gripped over the back slit of her dress. Her hands moved from his hair, to his jaw and neck, and his other hand kept her face lifted to meet his lips. Her movements told him she longed for him as well, but he could not place the desire. He should have pulled away and questioned it, for giving himself to her again was different this time. His chest lurched with pain at the thought of her retreating to her own bedroom, and even if she was only staying for pleasure, he would allow himself to indulge in more.

She pulled back, just an inch, but his hand on her back had a difficult time allowing them to part. When she guided his other hand to her shoulder to meet the fabric of her dress, his eyes shifted from his shoulder to hers. Her forehead came to meet his and Kyel breathed in a deep breath as his hand on the back of her waist lifted to the other shoulder. His hands stayed on those deep blue orbs as he pushed the fabric from her shoulders letting her garments pool at her ankles. His own hands moved hers to his coat and let her undo part of the intricate button work. His own hands pulled the coat off, and then lifted his undershirt exposing his bare muscular chest.

His eyes looked down upon her, meeting her eyes as he once again pulled her flush against himself. In one swift motion he turned her so her back was to him, and one of his hands pressed tightly at the side of her waist, gripping her lower half close to him. His hand shifted from her waist, to her thigh where he felt the tender skin of her wound. His other hand lifted to the base of her neck, he lifted his finger to turn her head back to him, as his lips kissed from her shoulder, to the back of her neck and then finding her lips for a moment, “Arch your back,” he commanded with a deep breath. His thumb at her waist pressed over the still bruised skin, it was gentle, but slowly he pushed harder, he wanted to see how much pressure she could handle.

Kyel pushed her back to the bed, as she laid his body came over hers, and his eyes looked down upon her face. He wanted to trace the small contours, feel her skin again, try to memorize the feeling. There would be time after for that, for now he wanted her and tonight she would be his. His hand lifted to find her hair, and he yanked back just slightly, causing her head to lean back and his lips pressed down in a slow kiss against the pulse of her neck. His fingers slid from her hair along her jaw to her chin, tilting her face to his as he kissed her lips again, “Look at me, Kaira,” he said against the side of her lips.

 

[peritwinkle]

The night flashed in a blur, and by the time they were breathless and torpid, all Kaira could remember was the sound of his voice ringing in her ear and the way his skin felt pressed against hers. She found herself lying on the mattress with her back exposed, one arm resting against his chest as her eyes struggled to stay open. There was a smile of pure content on her lips, something she had never seen in herself before, but the feeling was too bewitching to deny herself of it. She felt warm, protected, and strangely enough - loved. Exhaustion had never been so pleasurable.

Kaira looked up at him through her lashes as she wondered if he felt the same. His chest was heaving, but his expression was calm, at ease. She slowly slipped her hand into his at the top of his chest and pulled closer so that her forehead was pressed against his bare shoulder. She wished she could tell him not to leave so early the next morning. The others would likely sleep until early noon, tired and hungover from the feast that had not yet ceased, judging by the muffled musing in the distance. Still, Kaira knew she could not ask him to risk his name for a moment of happiness. In the morning, he would be cold again - he would shake her awake, check if he had left any marks, and then get dressed and leave without another word, or ask her to leave to her own room. The thought of it was torturous.

Sleep came over her like a dark veil, before she could even slip beneath the covers properly. In her dream she was sleeping by his side, her hand still in his and his other had come around her as he whispered something to her that she could not quite discern, but she was simply content with hearing his voice. In her dream, soft morning light filtered through the curtains, but the room was shaded and quiet, warm, imbued in his scent. It almost felt like a guilty pleasure to see herself bask in the feeling of safety and affection, when otherwise she painted herself so cold, powerful, independent. It was only for that moment she allowed herself to be vulnerable and leave her protection to him. Kaira knew it was a dream, although one she wished she could live in much longer.

 

[pointmango]

His breath was still catching as his chest lifted and fell while he laid back on the mattress. She was beside and she leaned in, her hand coming to his intertwining their fingers as her head pressed to his shoulder. He could tell she was tired, he was as well but he didn’t want sleep to plague his mind too soon. He needed more time with her. The morning would only bring cold air and the thought of leaving her. His chest pained again at the thought, and this time he decided he would not let her leave until the last possible moment.

She fell asleep first, he usually knew when because the furrow of her brow would deepen. But tonight her brow was not furrowed, she was relaxed even, content. His arm moved around her and his lips pressed down against her sleeping head, “Sleep well, Kaira,” was all he spoke and wished the thought into the air as one of his fingers traced the necklace he had given her at her neck. Soon sleep overcame his body as well, and he pulled her closer as he drifted into his own deep sleep. His night was restless, he didn’t move too much, afraid to wake her, but his eyes opened as if to check she had not traveled into another trance. After waking up for the fifth time, his hand came to her cheek, he let himself look at her face without shame, worry upon his face thinking about her fate. He would never let Alastair have her, even if the war was lost, Kyel would make sure of it. And the King would not have her again, especially not in a trance, although he had no idea how he would control either of those.

He tried sleeping again, but finally when morning light peeked through the curtain, Kyel knew they still had at least a few hours before the council meeting. His body shifted over hers and he let out a deep breath, knowing the pressure of his body would stir her slightly, his lips pressed along her jaw in slow and lazy kisses. “Do not leave me this morning,” he whispered carefully against her neck.

 

[peritwinkle]

Morning light filtered through Kaira’s lashes as she stirred awake at the weight that made her sink into the warm sheets. She could feel Kyel’s skin against her bare back and felt his lips trail across her jaw before resting by her neck as he whispered his version of ‘good morning’. Kaira smiled lazily as she slipped her hand beneath him and closed her eyes again, letting out a breath of contentment. “It is not I who leaves every morning,” she accused him simply. “I do not want to leave either,” she admitted then. “Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.”

What truly kept her pinned there was her desire for the fruit that was forbidden to her, which seemed to taste much better than anything else on her plate. If she even had a plate, at all.

Kaira lingered there for a moment, urging her mind to waken as well. Although he had not placed his entire body against hers, he was still quite heavy, enough to make breathing a little strenuous, but strangely enough she enjoyed the feeling. She felt small beneath him; were it any other man, she would have resented the feeling of frailty, but when it came to him, all it did was make her desire him more.

Eventually, she pushed herself up slightly, signaling for him to turn, before she turned as well and wrapped her arms around him, pinning him down and resting her head on his chest. They had promised it would only happen once, that it was only meant to quench a temporary thirst within them. That she was nothing more than an ally, a friend he wished to protect, but Kaira thought this strayed far from friendship. The both of them were leaning against a broken wall, ready to fall and crush them, yet neither of them was willing to give up the relief it brought.

“You will have to call for a maid to bring me a dress,” she murmured softly. She couldn’t be seen in the one from the previous night again; suspicions would arise, and as little as she trusted maids and guards, being seen by someone like the Dames of Farrest would be much more devastating. Kaira traced small circles with her fingertips over his skin. “As soon as I step out through that door, this never happened. For your sake… I know you are wanted by someone else.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel let out a low noise resembling a small chuckle when she accused him of being the one who leaves. She was not wrong, but it still humored him. Soon he felt her shift and he leaned back over slightly on his back now as she came over him. His hands came to her waist, and when she laid a top of him one draped lazily over the small of her back, the other reached up to toy in her hair.

His eyes closed and he wished to turn back the time to the night and be with her all over again. The night and this morning felt good, just being with her. But her outbursts and moods confused him more than the complexity that was figuring out how a Volur battled. He was afraid she would never let him be with her again. He nodded as she thought of the dress, a good call. Her fingers moved gently over his skin and oddly reminded him of her digging her nails into his back the previous night.

Her next words caused his jaw to tense harshly though, she was always thinking of excuses why they could never be seen or heard of by another soul. And while he agreed, he kept his agreement silent, she felt the need to voice it whenever she got the chance. “I know our circumstances Kaira,” he spoke in a tight tone. She was so damned frustrating, Kyel let out another long huff of breath and he turned them over in bed, this time he was pinning her, his legs were tight at her thighs and his hands gripped hers above her head. “I wanted a morning of peace,” he said gruffly. “And do not speak over who’s sake any of this secrecy is for.” He added, clearly upset. He leaned up then, and one of his hands moved from her hand to the base of her neck. He did not squeeze, but his hand remained firm over her collarbone as he looked down at her.

His chest let out another heavy huff and his body heavied slightly trying to relax himself. Kyel bent his waist and leaned over her, one hand still at the base of her neck, his other coming right beneath her jaw as his forehead pressed down against hers. “Just be with me right now Kaira. I will get you a dress, I will make sure you aren’t seen,” He was speaking nearly against her lips now, “Just be with me.” He said and his lips crashed down harshly against hers.

A knock came to the door, and Kyel pulled from her lips in an angry huff again, this time his hand did tighten at the base of her neck. “Lord Skovgaard, council will be called at the end of the hour,” A shaky voice said. Kyel assumed it had to be one of the Pelletier squires who was tasked with serving him.

Kyel’s gaze was dark now as he looked back to Kaira, “I can see myself to the meeting. Let me rest.” He called back in a loud booming voice. His eyes remained on hers and he didn’t move until he heard the steps of the squire move down the hall. Kyel’s head pressed back down to hers kissing her again. Another knock came and Kyel ignored the first one, it came again and he pulled back from her losing his patience now. “What?!” He called loudly into the air.

The voice on the other side of the door was far too familiar. “Oof, good morning to you too,” It was Jon. “I was hoping-”

Kyel did not let the man finish, “I will see you at council Lord Pelletier, leave me be.” he called and heard Jon’s footsteps away as well. Kyel’s fingers traced along the edge of Kaira’s jaw now, “So much for peace.”.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kyel’s shift did not take Kaira by surprise; she knew he was sensitive to the subject and would rather avoid it for as long as possible, until it was truly time to face the truth. As he pinned her down, he sank into the pillow and melted underneath him, a soft smile curling her lips, and waited patiently until he willed to crush his lips against hers again.

The light in the room, the warm sheets and the brisk morning air that slipped from underneath the door, the way she could smell herself on his skin reminded her of her dream from that night. It felt perfect, so much so that it almost ached to think she would have to break it soon. Still, she urged herself to focus on the moment - on him - and forget about the role she ought to convince herself into as soon as she stepped out of his room. There was a feeling within her that she would be unable to resume it quite as easily after that night. It was one thing playing off a kiss, and another trying to convince herself to forget sleeping with him for the second time, and this once completely sober, or at the very least with not enough alcohol in her system to justify her choices.

A knock came on the door and Kaira let him break away for just enough to respond to the squire demanding his attendance at that morning’s council. She let out a soft sigh. “I thought it would be much later,” she murmured against his lips before kissing him again. Her hands trailed delicately over the back of his head, his nape, before resting her palms against his shoulder blades. Another knock, and this time Kyel seemed to lose his temper at the sound of Jon’s voice on the other side of the door. A quiet laugh escaped her lips once she heard his steps fade into the distance. A meaningless question which could have waited, no question, but Kyel’s anger with him was amusing.

“I suppose this entire castle is against you today,” she said, then shrugged, shaking her head. “Peace is not fun, anyway. Isn’t this what makes our affair exciting? All the trouble it comes with?” Her smile faded slightly at the realization that he ought to hide her. She wondered what Adrielle and Lady Penrose would think if they found out he was sleeping with a Volur. ‘Nothing,’ she reminded herself. ‘Men are allowed to sleep with whomever they like.’ Maybe it would make her want him, if her eyes were not already on him.

Kaira gave him another long but shallow kiss, before she pulled herself from beneath him and headed for the small mirror on his vanity, pulling the blanket along with her and wrapping it around her shoulders. The air was cold against her bare skin, but the cover was almost uncomfortably warm. She glanced down at the dress he had taken off of her the night before, now reduced to a pale blue lump on the floor. His necklace was still around her neck, but nothing about her right then matched the elegance of the jewel, from the messy, unbrushed hair to the makeshift gown draped over her. “I will need some water, too,” she sighed. “I should at least look presentable while I explain to everyone I let our enemy into my head because I let my guard down.

She turned to him then, her lips pursed. “Jon always asks me why I am so serious and grave all the time. This is the price I have to pay for enjoying myself a bit too much.” For forgetting they were still at war.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel’s mood should have shifted more at her laugh, just last night it had elicited such happiness within him. And now it only brought sadness that he may have to wait weeks to hear the noise again. His chest only tightened further when she referred to them as an affair. Perhaps it was, and that was all it could ever be. It still angered him much more than it should have. He had her didn’t he? No, not officially. And having her like this should have been enough, but it wasn’t. He wanted more.

Her lips came to his again, and he kissed her back before she pulled from him taking the blanket with her. He watched her move to the mirror, looking over herself, and he nodded at her words. Water and a dress, this morning’s council meeting would be interesting to say the least. When she turned to him she mentioned the younger Pelletier Lord, he almost laughed at her statement, the young Lord had asked him a time or two the same question. Kyel shook his head, “There should be no price to pay for our evening.” He said simply.

Kyel moved from the bed entirely now, he moved over to the dresser where he pulled out his clothes and dressed for the day. He wished they were traveling, his leathers were much more comfortable, but instead he donned a dark fabric, pulled on his boots and finished by pulling his cloak over his shoulders. He stepped forward towards her again, her still just wrapped in a blanket and he leaned down pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’ll be back,” he whispered to her. He steps to the door were short and when he opened the large wooden structure, he laughed a bit at who was waiting for him. He knelt to pet the beast of a dog who was the same size as him while he knelt, Felix licked his masters cheek. “Go keep her company,” he whispered to the canine and as Felix trotted inside Kyel shut the door behind himself.

He found a servant quickly and requested a full tray of food for breakfast, and a large pitcher of water as well. He did not trust another with the secrecy of a dress, and so he moved down the halls until he came to her room. He waited until no servants were in the hall and he entered inside. Her scent in the room was faint, having only spent a few nights in the room, but his urge to stay and take in the moment was tempting. Still, he had the real woman in his own bedroom down the hall. Kyel moved to her wardrobe taking an elegant dress and the proper garments and shoes. After he poked his head out the door and with another empty hall he quickly carried the dress back to his room. After laying the dress for her on the bed another knock came. Kyel opened the door a crack and retrieved the tray and pitcher from the servant girl instead of allowing her to enter with it. “Thank you,” He spoke in a deep tone. Kyel brought the tray back into the room and set it on a side table beside the vanity. He took one long sip of water for himself, before pouring the glass full again for her this time. The tray was full of a small assortment of breads, dried meats, fruits and jams.

The Lord of the North stepped forward, his hand coming to her waist, and the other touching upon her shoulder, lifting up tracing the slope of her neck until it came to her jaw. He leaned down pressing a deep kiss to her lips. “I will see you at council,” he spoke darkly against her lips. He turned to the door and whistled quickly for Felix to follow as he left the room.

*

The Greenwall council was gathered in Lord Pelletier’s council room. The group looked distressed as Islea relayed the positions of their allies. “Dame Penrose remains unwavered. But Dame Sadelyn and the rest of the Farrest council are worried should there be more outbursts. Eric Pelletier shows concerns, it is difficult for them not to be afraid, never having seen the craft in action before. And that was a minor occurrence, if anything.” Islea recalled the events of last night. Unrest grew within the hall, and even as Lord Pelletier called for the feast to continue, tensions seemed high throughout the night. Then she huffed putting her hand to her forehead at the thought of another Lord. “Lord Pyke is already fair weathered.” She commented.

“Perhaps we wait to worry and see where everyone’s head is after she explains herself?” It was Jon who entered the council room and took a seat to the right of his brother’s chair. His posture was casual, as if he had no worries about the meeting to come. He didn’t understand the outburst of the previous night either, but surely Kaira had a sound explanation that he was certain of. Next his brother joined the room, and then the Dames of Farrest. Dame Sadelyn appeared tense and cautious, while Dame Penrose looked almost excited. Finally the brute force of Lord Skovgoaard entered and his dog followed in suit. He sat beside Ser Beor, and left the seat to his right open.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira was thankful when Kyel went to fetch her a dress by himself. Had they asked a maid to do so, there would likely be whispers in the kitchen, bribery or not. He left Felix to watch over her in his absence, and Kaira analysed the dog through its reflection in the mirror: a perfectly composed beast, towering and dark, dangerous, but oddly friendly. She smiled as she realised the description matched the owner perfectly, although judging from the night before, perhaps Kyel was a sliver more beastly.

When he returned, she looked over her shoulder and watched him lay the dress on the bed - he pretty purple one Elisif had given her. Well, one of the many. Soon enough, they received a tray of food as well, and suddenly it struck her that she was indeed hungry. Her stomach growled audibly at the smell of freshly chopped ham and berry jam, but before she could pick up a few bites for herself, she felt Kyel’s arms wrap around her again, and Kaira closed her eyes, melting slightly against his chest. Her head swiftly followed his scent and she let him kiss her quickly, before he broke away and she found herself cold again, and now abruptly alone in his bedroom.

The council. Kaira willed herself to shift her mind from helplessly pensive to her usual focus, but the trail of pine and musk he left behind did not help her cause. Eventually, she dropped the blanket covering her shoulders and reached for the dress, slipping into it easily and tying it tightly at the back. It was slightly too cold in Riftmere for a dress fashioned in Elvgard, but she thought a cape would fill in the gaps of material well enough. Her gaze lingered on Kyel’s closet for a moment, contemplating. Once decided, she pulled one of the doors open and reached for the first cape she could find, a beautiful dark grey, thankfully lacking any embroidery hinting at its owner’s family sigil. She pulled it over her shoulder, tied it at the front and pushed it back, leaving a good portion of her arms still exposed.

The necklace Kyel had given her weighed heavily on her chest now. She brushed her fingers over it, then her hands fell back down as she attempted to adjust the ring from Leon more tightly on her finger. She saw nothing glisten in the mirror as she moved her hand, and looking down, she realised she no longer had it. Her stomach dropped. Had she lost it that night, in bed? Their activity had not been particularly calm. Kaira shot towards the bed and she began ruffling the sheets in search for it, as her mind attempted to replay every moment she could remember from when she had stepped into the feast hall.

Then it dawned on her. She recalled the way Kyel had gripped her hands, pulling her back into reality. She remembered how she had said it had been Leon to help Alastair creep into her head, although she had not been able to explain exactly how. As the pieces of the puzzle finally came together, Kaira shot out of the room and stormed towards the council hall, her right hand still fiddling with the finger where the ring had once been.

*​

The air in the council room was unusually heavy. Bastian watched Islea explain in a contemplative silence as he tried to piece everything together. He had witnessed Kaira’s outburst, but he understood nothing, and he refused to believe either of them could form an opinion on its nature without hearing what had caused it in the first place, or what had gone through the girl’s mind before Kyel shook her back to sanity. The only person who seemed to agree with his thinking was Jon, and for the first time he thought the boy was truly thinking clearly. He flashed him a nod of gratitude before leaning back in his chair while he waited for everyone else to gather.

Name by name, the room filled, and the last one to come through the doors was the very subject of their discussion. The Volur entered in full force, her chest puffed up and her eyes dark, solemn; she claimed her seat as though she had kept it in mind from before, to the right of Lord Skovgaard. Judging by the choice of seats, Bastian already knew that the man had been swayed. He was no longer the ignorant Northern brute that had requested her execution back at Greenwall. Looking to his right, he saw Beor analyse him carefully as well, but more intrigued by his demeanor rather than judgmental.

Cadmus Beor cleared his throat and lifted his palm up, gesturing towards Kaira. “I assume you know we have gathered here to shed light upon what happened last night,” he said. “You deserve the right to speak first.”

Silence fell as Kaira stood up, preparing herself. Strangely, she felt her heart drum in her chest in a way it never had before in front of their council, but she took comfort in knowing Kyel would at least take her side. “What you witnessed last night was not a vision,” Kaira began to explain. “King Alastair took advantage of the knowledge I would likely be attending the feast of the Last Harvest here at Riftmere, and with his Volur’s help he managed to slip into my head.” She lowered her gaze for a moment, gathering her words, before looking back up at them again. She decided to skip the details for the time being. “I have heard of such spells, but not without connectors before, or from such a distance, and I could make no sense of it until this morning.”

Kaira lifted her left hand to them. “I had a ring gifted to me by my master that was meant to protect me, though I never really understood its purpose. What I believe happened, is that he used it as a way to get into my head, see through me. I also believe this is how he knew I survived the wildfire.” She looked at Elisif now, who was eyeing her with visible distress. “I… assume that when Kyel pinned me down, the ring slipped from my finger, which is what broke the trance. The way it manifested, however, I believe it was Leon’s hand as well. Making it torturous meant it would be flashy, it would attract attention and make it stop before Alastair had enough time to see what he wanted to see.”

There had always been a way Leon had gone around Alastair’s demands whenever they were too dangerous or cruel, particularly when it regarded her. Kaira had a feeling he had made it so dramatic on purpose; or, perhaps it was the part of her that clung to the idea Leon would do everything within his power not to betray her. The letter he had left her in Kaelan’s office had been reason enough.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel felt the mood of the room change when Kaira entered, and he found himself sitting up straighter as she sat. He glanced downward as his hound shifted to rest between the seats of Kyel and Kaira rather than simply at Kyel’s foot. Everyone’s attention turned to Kaira as she spoke, and Kyel’s attention stayed on her. His eyes shifted over the cloak on her back and an odd sense of admiration and pride surged within his chest as he realized it was his. Her explanation clarified the moment for him as well, it was not his voice grounding her, it was the fact that when he tackled her to the ground a piece of jewelry slipped from her finger.

Jon shrugged before the council as Kaira finished speaking, “Well then case solved. No more rings, no more visions.”

“It may not be that simple Jonathan,” Islea corrected him. She looked to Kaira with concern over her brow, the wrinkles in her forehead were deep. “Could Leon form a similar connection in other ways?” She asked, “Or under different circumstances?” She asked Kaira.

“That should not matter!” Dame Sadelyn spoke quickly. “She is a liability, an outburst is possible again. Lord Skovgaard, she used magic on you and could not control herself.”

Kyel’s gaze darkened when Adrielle brought him in the mix in an attempt to dispute Kaira’s stance. “She is not a liability. In fact she is our greatest asset.” He informed Adrielle calmly. He was trying to gauge everyone’s reaction. The older Pelletier had yet to speak which worried Kyel. But now Kyel had his own questions as his gaze turned to her. He wanted to know more about the ring. If Leon gifted it to her for protection Kyel didn’t want her without it, visions or not.

Eric Pelletier finally cleared his throat. “I do not doubt Miss Grimwards intentions with us are pure. She’s shown nothing but loyalty since she has been here, and my brother has informed me since she came to Greenwall as well.” Eric spoke. “But I cannot turn my cheek to the events of last night. You speak of distance Miss Grimward, how do we know your master and the King will not try such a spell during the closeness of battle. You are our greatest asset, but your power in the wrong hands shifts to danger.” He said. “How can we trust your power if we cannot control it?”

Kyel’s jaw clenched harshly as his voice boomed over the room “Control it? She is a human being, not a sword-”

“She’s a Volur!” Dame Sadelyn exclaimed in disbelief at the Northern Lords comments.

“So?!” Kyel asked loudly slamming his fist onto the council table. Many heads turned at this exclamation from a Northmen. He caught himself quickly and cleared his own throat, “Our only chance to win this war is if we all work together. The North, Wendlyn and Kaira. We need all three. Without one we will fail.”

 

[peritwinkle]

The heated exchange between Adrielle Sadelyn and Kyel proved to Kaira what her true colours were. The woman had never truly been on her side, or keen on the possibility of using a Volur to their advantage; it was as clear as day, in the way that she was so quick to decide Kaira was a liability while everyone else - even Eric Pelletier - were on the fence about the situation. Kaira listened in silence, the shadow of a proud smirk playing at the corners of her lips for a brief moment at Kyel’s brust of frustration with Adrielle; a little over a month before, he had been in her stance, resentful and convinced. She was sat down now, and from underneath the table she guided Kyel’s hand over her left thigh.

“I do not believe this council is meant to discuss whether we keep Miss Grimward as our ally or not,” Beor intervened carefully. “There is no question in that without her, we lose the only advantage that keeps us afloat. However, as Lord Eric said, we cannot take the risk of this happening again mid-battle.” He was looking at her now, silently demanding an answer.

“They will not do it in battle,” Kaira delivered confidently. “This kind of magic takes time and focus. Alastair would rather have Leon in the rearguard than waste valuable time on figuring out our battle strategy from slithering into my thoughts. It is not completely impossible, but Alastair’s greatest flaw is lack of patience. The reason you won the battle of Greenwall is because he refused to wait for reinforcements when he sent us along.” That, and he had been confident they could take it without much hassle. Oh, how wrong he had been.

“The ring,” Ser Bastian nodded towards her hand from which it was missing. “Is it the only method of reaching you?”

Kaira shook her head. “Unless he were very close, no,” she replied. “It cannot be any item, either. I am yet to understand how this kind of magic works, but Leon gave me this ring when I was very young, and I know him well enough to say that this was not the purpose it originally served.” Her neck tensed for a moment as memories fell back into place. “I have received a sort of guidance, from afar, from him. Before we were attacked, I had a recurring dream of being stabbed in the back. Something now tells me it is tied to him, that he knew someone would sell our plans to Yllevad, and he tried to warn me.”

The possibility of it being a simple vision were much greater, but in her mind, everything seemed more or less intertwined. She touched her ring finger again, feeling the emptiness. “I need to find it,” she decided.

“Though you will not wear it, until we are sure it can pose no harm again,” Beor chimed in.

“We cannot be sure of that,” she replied. “But I will not be without it. If Leon had meant to betray me, he would have told the King I have joined you before he sent those men who seemed taken aback by my lack of cooperation. He knew I was not a prisoner.” Her eyes shifted to Elisif once again, and the woman nodded at her. Her beautiful face was plagued by worry now; Kaira thought she would make a great mother, for she reminded her of her own. “As long as I have that ring on, Leon is kept in the loop, which means he will do everything within his power to guide the King into planning his moves to his slight disadvantage.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel felt her hand touch his beneath the table, his fist opened and her fingertips guided his to her left thigh. Kyel’s large hand squeezed gently over the fabric covered flesh as his thumb pressed small circles against the outside of her thigh. He felt a small surge of satisfaction, and he wondered if Kaelan felt this with Elisif by his side. Beor’s words were wise, but Kyel was still frustrated at their concern even though it was justified.

His head shifted to look at her when she spoke of other visions - her dreams, which she now also suspected as warning from Leon. Kyel’s hand shifted on her thigh as she spoke about the ring and that having it would pose as a disadvantage to the King. It seemed everyone was in consensus with Beor to proceed with caution.

“Our Lords and Sers bring up excellent points.” Lenda Penrose rose from her seat. “I think now, in our unrest, is the most just time to bring up a suggestion.” She appeared to be treading lightly, but with a purpose. Kyel was confused by the sudden change of pace, and he saw everyone’s faces plagued with confusion, except Islea’s. The older woman with light hair beginning to grey looked at Lenda in pure shock and almost admonishment. Kyel’s attention quickly snapped back to Lenda.

“Lord Skovgaard spoke truly, our components are strong. The North, Wendlyn and Miss Grimmward. And when we are liberated from the crown,” her tone was confident, “We will be an independent nation. You see, Wendlyn lacks something that both Windhold and the North do not. A sole leader. Kaelan Vannbrek, may he rest in peace, was our equivalent. I think it is time we nominate a new name to hold over Wendlyn. I thought to wait until the war was won, but we need reason and strength now more than ever. A King would bring unity.” She said.

“A King?” Jon asked, nearly scoffing at the idea, but some other faces did not look so disinterested, particularly the man to Jon’s left.

“Yes. We work as a council, but we need order. Situations will only grow more dire, and a majority vote each time will lead to more internal disputes and we face the largest on the outside. Alastair will want us to fight among ourselves, with Lord Skovgaard’s word, and anothers, we can be more precise.”

“Lenda this is not the time,” Islea breathed out.

“No, I wish to hear more,” Eric’s head lifted. “If Lord Skovgaard is to be King of the North, who will take Wendlyn?”

Lenda smiled, “Well, that is for us to decide.”

Kyel’s hand squeezed Kaira’s thigh again, perhaps too hard in his worry. King of the North? A King in Wendlyn? This would bring more disputes not unity.

“We needn’t decide now. And each great house and council of Wendlyn should all receive a say. But I wish to pledge my own honor now. Someone most fit for the job. Someone who has seen such tactics first hand, and who is more just than anyone within this room. Lady Elisif Vannbrek.”

“She’s a woman,” Erik frowned.

“A Queen,” Lenda offered.

“She’s with child.” Islea spat now as she stood up. “How dare you propose such preposterous acts. We are in the middle of a war. We cannot be fighting one another for a chair at the head of the table! You think this unifies us? It separates us! It is what Alastair wants, for us to fight one another instead of him!”

 

[peritwinkle]

Bastian had been watching each of the others’ faces attentively as Lenda spoke, hoping to read their thoughts to the strange change of subject. Immediately, he could see that Beor was not at all jolly about the proposition, or at the very least, he shared his opinion that the timing was misplaced. Then, Lenda’s next suggestion came, and everyone’s gazes flickered to Elisif, whose brows were arched in both confusion and visible disagreement as her arms wrapped protectively around her belly under the table. The only one intrigued by the offer was Eric Pelletier, who was still young and gullible, quick to judge before taking some time to let his thoughts boil. In that regard, Bastian thought he resembled Jonathan too well.

“Forgive me, Dame Penrose,” Beor finally chimed in, canting his head calmly. “But I have to agree with everyone that this is not the time for big changes. The very thing that got us in this position was a broken Valera, and the way to remedy that is very certainly not to define its partitions even more.” He gestured towards Elisif briefly. “Kaelan ruled Wendlyn not as an elected King, but his power, kindness and wisdom made the people regard him as such.”

“I think it is safe to say that such shift would deepen the rivalries, not patch our differences,” Bastian agreed with the older man. “Dame Penrose, we appreciate your suggestion. Perhaps sometime, after the war, if things change favourably we might bring this into discussion as well. But the reason we gathered here was to discuss the safety of Miss Grimward, and our safety by extension.”

Kaira settled herself more comfortably in her seat. Her hands fell in her lap, and one rested over Kyel’s nervously. Analysing the faces around her, she could tell they had already made a decision, and the only one unwilling to accept it was Adrielle. Kaira’s lips pursed. Adrielle had said nothing yet, but she could see it on her face that she was not at all content with the way Ser Bastian and Ser Beor approached the situation. Her vision was black and white: one could only be either good or inherently evil, and wearing revealing dresses automatically placed you in the second category. She wondered what she would think if she could see Kyel’s hand under the table.

“I don’t think there is anything to discuss, my Lords,” Elisif finally said. “Kaira knows what is best for her. She has proven more than once she is on our side; had she wished to betray us, she could have easily taken the opportunity before we reached Riftmere. If the ring does what she claims, then it is to our advantage that we let decide whether she should wear it or not, when we find it again.” She looked towards Dame Sadelyn with a smile then. "I am sure you would be more than willing to help us find clarification, and to open your mind ever so slightly, Dame Sadelyn. The library here is very extensive, we should be able to find something to go off of."

 

[pointmango]

Lenda frowned at the entire group's refusal, but there was hope, as he said perhaps as the war drew closer to an end. Jon was glad for Beor’s speech, Jon didn’t want anymore Kings. He liked the thought of a council, but truthfully other than Lord Pyke, he respected most every house in all of Wendlyn. He did not know the Northern Lords very well, but he trusted Kyel, and to him that was all that should matter.

Kyel felt Kaira’s hand move over his and his hand squeezed her thigh a bit more, trying to reassure her as he felt her nerves through the gesture. Elisif spoke next. It was too fitting, Lenda placing her as the voice of reason, and her coming in the end and being just that, while gracefully refusing the proposal of being a Queen. His expression darkened looking to Dame Sadelyn, Kyel couldn’t understand her dislike of Kaira. Being a woman of knowledge raised in Wendlyn, and Farrest she should have been fascinated by a magic being, the same way Jon and Eric were. Not disgusted. It made him wonder her intentions.

“Yes, of course,” Adrielle agreed to Elisif’s request with a tight nod. “I will write to the scholars who taught me at the Guild as well. Someone should know.” She said.

“No,” Kyel spoke quickly. “You will not write of this. We are not to put Kaira in danger again. Someone has already betrayed her location to Alastair. I do not want him thinking up more schemes because we have figured out the ring.”

“I will send a rider with the message Lord Skovgaard, the Guild will have more answers than we can sift through here in Riftmere.” Her eyes darting between the two and her eyes narrowing as Kyel’s arm was canted to Kaira, “The location is between here and Farrest, it should be a safe and quick ride.” She pointed out to him.

Kyel's jaw remained tense, but unless another had something to say, he could not say more. He let his grip loosen on Kaira’s thigh, realizing during his dispute with Dame Sadelyn he had been squeezing rather harshly. And he sucked his breath in when Jon asked when they would be riding for Skellig. In two days. They would have one more morning in Riftmere before Travel again, this time everyone in the party joining aside from the older Lord Pelletier, who would travel North when the boats were finished.

Days of small travel were over, they would go North with the army, and there would be more prying eyes at every turn. The group stood and Kyel shifted away from his seat beside Kaira, “Felix,” his voice spoke loudly and the beast shifted from the ground to follow the Northern Lord out of the room. “I am going to eat,” Kyel said, hoping that perhaps Kaira would join him, he already missed the contact she had let him have during the meeting, and he found himself needing more. The game they played was dangerous, and he wondered if her longing for him was just as greedy as his own.

“Perfect, I am starving,” It was Jon, and Kyel let out a huff as the young Lord followed along to the dining chambers. Kyel requested a large slab of raw venison for Felix, who gnawed happily in the corner at the meat flesh. “I’d like to spar again, Lord Skovgaard, before we hit the road for Skellig.” He said.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira was reticent about allowing Adrielle to spread the word of their plans so quickly. Although she was right in saying two minds worked better than one, she did not trust the council of Farrest enough to confide in them with such matter. Whitevale had sworn their alliance as well, and yet there they were, scarred and with two lives lost to Alastair’s men after someone had given away their destination. Still, she did not protest it, only kept her gaze sharp and scourging on her, a silent warning and reminder that her place alongside them was not set in stone by merely signing a piece of parchment uniting their forces.

The news of their travel to Skellig took her by surprise. Their days at Riftmere had gone by too quickly and she wished she could have stayed for longer, rested some more. This was not the Volur Leon had nurtured, and deep in her heart she knew they had lingered for too long. They had been feasting and taking long walks through the market while Alastair was likely gaining foreign allegiances by the day and stocking up on war supplies to last him a lifetime. He could strike at anytime, and with Elvgard so open and vulnerable, it seemed like the perfect target, albeit farther away from Windhelm than Greenwall.

As soon as the council came to an end, Kyel broke away from her and almost stormed through the door, his dog following along, with a seemingly famished Jon in the back. Elisif quickly came to sit next to her and waited for the room to empty, before shifting in her chair to face her and grab her hands. “Tell me,” she murmured. “How are you feeling? What happened last night that got you so… hysterical? I watched Kyel take you away, I wished I could come along but I could only assume he was taking you to rest.”

Kaira shook her head. “I am alright, I’ve been through worse. You don’t need to worry about me.” She stood up, then, adjusting the cape around her form. She did not want Elisif to encumber her mind with others’ problems anymore; the woman needed peace - as much as their dire circumstances allowed for. And, frankly, she was not the best liar, especially around her. Telling her she had had a restful night felt like a lie. “We should go eat. We have quite a bit of planning to do, and I think we might have to head back to the market for some warmer clothes for the trip up North.”

 

[pointmango]

The sky was still a deep blue without the sun’s light yet that morning. The walls of Riftmere were far behind them and the rain fell soft and heavy drawing out the sounds of horses and troops traveling thickly behind them. They rode North, away from Riftmere, and Farrest, and Greenwall and all of Wendlyn. He was riding home, and Kyel took the lead, kicking his horses' sides to a brisk trot as the trees grew thicker around them. No one spoke much, their travels had been long and tiresome, and Felix trotted ahead of Kyel and his horse, the beast never losing pace. Every so often Kyel would glance over his shoulder to make sure everyone was decent. He worried constantly for Elisif during travel, he insisted she take a carriage, but the stubborn woman refused and took her horse instead. But he worried more for Kaira, afraid she would break at any moment. His desire to be so close to her was concerning.

They had found her ring only hours before they left Riftmere. A servant girl was wearing it, the fool, someone would notice such jewelry on a kitchen maid. He didn’t care to stay to find out what happened to the kitchen maid now labeled a thief. His mind shifted to their business in Skellig. A dirty port city, no Lord to its name directly, fell under the claim of Lord Olsen, who oversaw the southeast of the North from castle Dread’s Watch. Kyel had been to Skellig a few times, the storyes he heard as a child the most barbaric. Men covered in dotted flesh and leeches, slobbery men who cut off hands and feet of others who displeased them. The truth of Skellig was it was a rundown Northern Port with unfriendly people, and unclean living conditions. The port itself was decently profitable, and the portmaster made well for himself.

Kyel glanced back as one of the guards road closer to him. He looked as though he had something to say, but when Kyel looked to him raising an expectant brow, the man said nothing and fell back. It was one of the guards they traveled with from Whitevale to Riftmere. He seemed almost terrified of Kyel, he had witness Kyel kill men. It is better if they were scared of him, he decided, then they will do as he says.

The rain stopped and started again over and over again. He did not know about the troops, but their main council had good cloaks to keep the water off, and so Kyel pressed them forward still. They crossed another road crossing, still moving North, the soft and wet ground was broken and treacherous with half buried roots between the dark thick trees. When they set up camp, it was always quick and along the road. The days seemed without dawn beneath the tress. During the day the sky would lighten around them, turning a light shade of grey through the soldier pines. The entire party stopped for sleep, water and to eat, and then they would ride again. They were getting closer, there was not much on this Northern road until they reached the Reaching River, the small bridge held by the small house of Bystrom that marked official passage to the Northlands.

The troops passed the crossing quickly that day, Bystrom’s allegiance was to the North, and so they were an ally. Once over the crossings Kyel quickened the pace to a faster trot as they were growing closer to the crossroads where Bastain would break off for Skellig and the rest of them would rest until his return. Halfway through that final day they arrived at an open fielded area. By the trees there was a crossroads, the air was colder and pale white mists thread from the pines blowing across the field before them. Kyel moved his horse over to Bastain and Tokesten. “The troops will camp here. Then continue to Ironstone,” Kyel shook Tokesten’s hand from atop their horses as he would lead the army further North. The group trotted away on their horses towards the coast that was so close by, a quarter days walk, much faster on horseback.

They headed towards Skellig, the trees becoming much less thick with nearly every trot of the horse. Soon there were no trees at all, and dirt turned to a sandy bush and mixture as they approached a wide town, much more massive than a village, but the smallest port in all of Valera. They left their horses at the stable, and Kyel whistled for Felix to follow him as they headed into the inn. He approached the counter where a young woman stood, she turned to them with a rather nasty look on her face upon the crowd of them, but she caught the sigil on Kyel’s broach and her face fell. “m’Lord,” she curtseyed.

“Rise,” he said in a deep tone motioning her upward. “We need a room for each head here.” He said to her and the woman nodded counting over them carefully. They were shown their rooms, Kyel set his things within a chest in his, and he exited after locking the door. He knew Bastain, Islea and Kaira would head to see Bastain’s friend soon. He followed them downstairs to see them off, probably meeting the man at some pub or explicit location. “Good luck Ser,” Kyel said to Bastain, and he nodded to the two women. His eyes lingered another moment, watching her back as she walked away from him out the door of the inn. They hadn’t been apart since she had arrived, maybe not always the same room, but always the same roof or vicinity. It pained him to see her go, and most of all it set worry within his chest and a slight pang of anger in his heart too. If something were to happen he could not protect her. He knew she was safe with Islea and Bastain, they were both immensely skilled, and would protect her with their lives, they wouldn’t need to though, not with her magic. But he couldn’t shake his hate of the realization.

Kyel sat in an pub table in the corner after getting himself a cup of ale. It reminded him of the makeshift council table in their time away from any castles. That was an uneven wooden long table, Kyel found himself and the other council members eating dried and salted meats at it most days. His eyes lingering to Kaira every so often, or avoiding the daggers of Adrielle during those meetings. Most of the time everyone was truly trying to ignore the questions of the only Pelletier they had now. Today would bring peace, the women of Farrest were continuing North, to get to the Ironstone library sooner. And now he sat alone save for his canine who sat in front of him leaning his large head on Kyel’s lap. He pet behind the dog's ears, and wondered if Felix missed her too. She would be back soon enough, but sleeping without her had truly been the most painful he wanted to be by her side at night, even just to lay there. He would see her soon, before the day was over.

His headed lifted as he heard steps approaching, if it were Jon he might attempt to make a quick exit. He should have known by the heaviness they were Ser Beors. Kyel offered a smile to the Knight, “Your head looks better old man,” He said as a joke, pointing to his own head to reference Beor’s injury from the attack after Whitevale.

 

[peritwinkle]

By the time they reached Skellig, Kaira was too exhausted to even feel her legs anymore. The small port town was more lively than she would have imagined, but twice as dirty, with people from all around Valera and across the sea mingling about the market: some were struggling to deliver goods packaged in large wooden boxes to the merchants while eschewing running children and insistent beggars, others were haggling for their food or expensive trinkets in a heavy Northern accent that Kaira could barely understand. It was so loud, that even close to the sea, it was impossible to hear the waves over the noise and chatter, and every street seemed to smell of sea water, fish and leather.

The inn Kyel guided them inside was a tight, crooked little building with two floors above the ground, with a sign barely holding up that only spelled the last few letters of its name, from which she gathered it had something to do with the word “shanty”. They were greeted with warmth, and Kaira could not exactly pinpoint whether it was because of Kyel, or because they all looked like they had just returned from a murderous heist. The woman seemed enthusiastic about showing them to their rooms; Kaira thought that, considering how poor people seemed in Skellig, she did not have that many clients to fill her inn on a daily basis. Sailors often slept on their ships and frequented the inns and pubs at night, for a hearty meal and a pretty barkeeper to rinse their eyes with.

“We will rest after we do what we have to do,” Bastian said as soon as they were left alone. He looked at Kyel with a slight frown on his brow. “We shouldn’t stay here any longer than needed. The Rat might not even be here anymore. Although I trust my sources, that man’s whereabouts are completely unforeseeable most of the time.”

They had already established Islea and Kaira would be coming along - Islea as a second witness of the Greenwall council, and Kaira as a guard dog, just in case things got heated. With Kyel’s reputation around the North, they deemed it improper to have him seen going in and out of some dingy pub. ‘He is not the most agreeable man,’ she recalled Bastian talking about the Rat while they were riding earlier that day. It was why they had not even considered Jon in the first place.

Bastian lead them down the main alley of the town, then turned around a corner and into what seemed like a smaller, poorer neighborhood, with an even more concerning pub propped inbetween two abandoned buildings. The pub was painted black, and although it held itself quite well, it was dark and more quiet than the rest, and had a large wooden sign above the door with the name “The Coyote” and an ace of spades painted sloppily right next to it. Walking inside, it was everything Kaira had expected to see: men seated around tables playing cards, some enjoying a mug of ale next to their decks, while others had completely given up their game and chatting about the winner in an increasingly heated exchange of observations. Upon entering, two pairs of eyes were on them, as sharp as daggers - one of the men had longer black hair and thick brows shadowing a pair of sea blue eyes; the other was slightly smaller in stature and younger, slender but tall even seated, with a bush of blond hair and a sparse beard. Kaira figured they did not look too out of place in that room, but something told her that the two glaring at them knew them to be new faces.

“Games start again after lunch,” the older man spoke as he stood up. He wore a black leather coat and had a concerning amount of sheathes in different sizes clasped around his belt.

“We aren’t looking for a game,” Bastian replied. “I am looking for a man that goes by the name of The Rat. He is an acquaintance of mine. I was told I would find him here.”

The room quieted down even more as the others turned to look as well, then resumed their game with their ears perked up. The man inquiring them took a few steps towards them. “The Rat ain’t here anymore,” he said. “Surely whoever told you about him has not seen him in a while. He died, two years ago. Whatever business you have with him, you may continue with me.”

“And he let you take over?” Bastian analysed him from head to toe. He looked younger than Kyel, save for the look on his face that matured him considerably.

He did not reply. His eyes narrowed and he finally closed the large gap between them, now his gaze flickering from one face to the other. He was the same height of Bastian, tall and well built, but he did not strike Kaira as a man of force. “Are you looking for trouble?”

“Is this not the place where you get paid to deal with those?”

The man nodded slightly, then took a step back and gestured towards a door in the back of the room. “We can discuss more privately, then. Follow me.”

 

[pointmango]

Islea followed Bastain into the rundown pub titled ‘The Coyote’, she’d been to many villages like Skellig, before her military title was gained, recruited only for her stature and swordsmanship at the time. The one she grew up in herself wasn’t the prettiest. An older man stood, one with long black hair and intriguing eyes and spoke to them. When Bastain stated their business the room grew quiet, the man said he was dead. Islea wondered if this were a trick.

Bastain’s words were cunning as they were simple, gaining some sense of respect from the dark haired man as they followed him into a back room. She could feel the eyes of the rest of the pub on their backs as they moved, should their identities be revealed, news would travel. It was good Kyel was not present at the meeting.

*

Kyel smiled at the old man as they spoke over seemingly nothing. Mindless conversation of old stories and the failures they had when learning to fight was good to clear the mind. But when Jon approached Kyel’s head leaned back slightly. He began asking Kyel questions of the tow, and how he wished to go exploring. “Explore all you want Pelletier,” he said. “But this village is not the place for your… excitement. If you piss a man off, he’ll cut you without a second thought,” he reminded him. He finished his ale and rose moving to the counter for some more food.

He moved back upstairs to his room removing his cloaks before he traveled across the hall to Elisif’s room. He knocked at the door, and when she opened it he let himself inside. “Tired?” He asked the woman, she had to be, he was exhausted and he wasn’t supplying energy for two. He set the tray he had brought with him on the bedside table and he flopped himself onto Elisif’s bed, the bed whining under his weight.

His thoughts still lingered to Kaira, if she was alright. It seemed even Bastain didn't fully trust whoever this 'Rat' was and with a name like that Kyel doubted anyone would ever trust someone like that. He tried to push her from his mind, trying to think of something else to consume him with Elisif. He recalled the council before they left Riftmere. Kyel smiled just slightly, “Sorry, I should be offering the seat to our future Queen first,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “Sometimes I forget how radical you southerners are,” he chuckled.

 

[peritwinkle]

The small group were lead through the back door, down a short corridor and into a room that seemed to be stand as an office. It was surprisingly spacious as opposed to the run-down building, with a large, wooden desk placed in the middle, an emerald green velvet armchair and a couple of bookshelves against the wall to the right. But what caught Kaira’s attention was not the suspiciously high-class decor, but the large white lump that laid on the floor by the foot of the desk: it looked like a baby lynx, or another breed of a worryingly large cat the man seemed to have domesticated. Bastian slowed down his walk at the sight of it, before regaining his poise quickly.

The stranger grabbed two deplorable chairs in his stride from the corner of the room and pushed them next to the one in front of his desk. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said as he turned around the desk and claimed his armchair. Bastian invited the two women forward and he claimed the seat in the middle. The other man waited as they settled down, now leaned back in his chair, with the tip of his boot caressing his pet’s belly. The animal made a small roaring sound that resembled a purr. “Speak, then,” he urged.

Bastian cleared his throat. “What we wish to pay you for is, first and foremost, loyalty,” the man began. “The heist would involve nothing more than a hit-and-run, and given the danger of it you will be paid handsomely.”

“So I gather you want me to agree before I even hear what it is about?” He raised his brow. “I don’t dirty my hands with political matters.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything you have not done before,” Bastian explained. “You will have nothing to do with it once the deed is done. You will merely be opening a door for us, and we can do the rest.”

“This kind of job comes with risk.”

“And with risk comes great payment.”

The man narrowed his eyes at Bastian. Kaira knew he was not one who enjoyed being outsmarted, but by the looks of him, money definitely tipped the balance of his morals. How could Bastian trust that the man would not betray their plan for even more money? A promise? That meant nothing. Even royal Volur found ways of going around their loyalties.

“The only reason I will accept is because I remember you,” he said then. “You had business with The Rat a few good years ago. Dirty business for a man with titles.” His eyes analysed him harshly. “Tell me what it is about.”

Bastian breathed out and leaned forward slightly. “We are looking for a way to break into the royal port and burn the King’s imports. Just the war supplies, I do not care for the silks and jewelry. If we stumble upon those, you may have them.” He knew the thought would elicit some interest.

“And how do I know this is not a trap?” His gaze darkened.

Kaira pulled three envelopes from the pocket of her cape and held them out to him. Each of them carried the signatures and sigils of House Skovgaard, House Vannbrek and the council of Greenwall. The man pondered for a moment, before reaching out to take them; as his fingers brushed against hers, their eyes met in an electric clash and she watched the corner of his lips curve up.

“You’re a Volur,” he commented.

“So are you,” Kaira observed.

He leaned back in his chair and began analysing the envelopes. “The North working with a Volur,” he sighed as he read. “Perhaps you are as desperate as I heard. Now hiring mercenaries to fill in the gaps in their ranks.” His eyes lifted and he looked at her. “A young one, too. Quite lamentable.”

“Forgive me for asking,” Kaira’s jaw tensed, “but I don’t think we quite caught your name. Would you be the new Rat, or do they call you The Mouse now?”

He let out a brisk huff. “I don’t hide behind nicknames. Whoever has business with me should know who I am.” He placed the letters back on the desk. “My name is Nikolai Grimward.”

*​

Elisif was not surprised to see Kyel. She knew the man was likely there to calm his own nerves, and she could not blame him for that; while she trusted Bastian, the man he had spoken to them about was not one to upset, and she knew Kaira to be rather quick to anger. She gestured for him to step inside along with the tray of food, then watched him claimed a side of the bed, making himself at home in her new room. Elisif let out a stifled laugh as she went to browse through the array of meats and cheeses.

“You could not imagine what a heavy burden it is,” she commented as she began spreading some of the cheese on a piece of toast and topped it off with smoked ham. She thought it smelled heavenly; only now was she realising how hungry she truly was, as her stomach growled at the beautiful sight. “Gods, you have no clue what went through my head as I heard it. Were she not a new ally, she would have gotten a word or two from me.” She bit into it and spoke as she chewed. “What a wrong moment to propose such preposterous thing.”

She finished her snack quickly and moved on to try another assortment. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment with a melancholic smile. “Are you that worried you cannot eat?” she gestured towards the food. “I am sure Kaira knows how to protect herself. If I am not wrong, actually, Bastian brought her there for their protection, isn’t it?” She giggled as she bit into her masterpiece composed of cheese, gammon and berries.

 

[pointmango]

Islea sat on the other side of Bastain as this new man gestured for them to sit. He was casual and interested in the agreement no matter the suspicion. Islea trusted Bastain and Beor more than anyone else, but she did not trust this man before him. Their pay would be handsome, and the rewards if successful even more so, but should anything flip, so could this man. Islea’s kept her head forward on the Rat’s companion, her hands fisted hearing about Bastain doing some sort of dirty business. She didn’t doubt him, there was always a reason, still she wondered.

Her eyes focused on the man as he browsed the letters. His comment on the North was well warranted, but she frowned as he called them desperate. Kaira spoke again, asking his name and the man revealed his own in a huff. Islea did not move, her cheeks tensed to keep her mouth from opening. She glanced between the two ready to gauge the reaction, she was not aware Kaira had any living relatives.

*

Kyel’s head lifted slightly with a smirk as she commented about Lenda’s words, but when she asked about his worry he leaned back and sighed. She was right, Kaira could handle herself, she could take care of all of them ten times over. And still his only thought was for her well being. What unsettled him even more was how candid Elisif was. He knew she knew of his feelings, but she was speaking them now.

“I cannot help it,” he mumbled as he turned onto his side and looked to Elisif. He never felt this way about her, there was a part of him concerned for her safety, but there wasn’t this feeling in the pit of his stomach that ravished his entire being. It was frustrating, when it came to Kaira his mind either would not shut up, or it would not think at all. When they were alone it felt good and right, even in other times like at the festival when he could kiss her before others. Although, then they had been hiding behind masks, and she did not wish to be hidden, or so she said. It seemed just the other night when she called their arrangement an affair she was less upset they had to be a secret. The end of the war could bring many preposterous things, but Kyel only had thoughts of one selfishly for himself.

“She’s strong, and determined,” and beautiful, he thought. “She’s always on alert too, like she knows something will happen if she is not careful,” he commented. It seemed often like she was waiting for some ball to drop and destroy her world around her. It must’ve been why her brow furrowed when she slept, but she had been relaxed the other night with him, could he help her? Or had she only thought it was him when in reality it was the fact she had lost the ring? “I cannot focus when she is taking a walk to a pub across town,” Kyel spoke finally, “How the hell will I focus when we are in battle?” It was perhaps the most he has openly admitted to Elisif thus far.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira’s eyes were locked on the man in disbelief. At his words, her stomach had sunk and her chest fell; she could no longer feel her toes, and her heart beat so quickly, it threatened to break out through her throat. His name sounded like a sliver of a dream, something familiar but ethereal, as though part of another lifetime. She looked at him then and could see the faces of her parents that, until then, she could not recall even in her dreams: the deep blue eyes, the pale, slightly freckled skin and the dark hair. And she could see herself in the way he looked at her, like an image in the mirror: cunning, dangerous, rigid.

“This is impossible,” she breathed out. “I saw you in the fire… I heard them call your name…”

Nikolai stared at her in confusion. His fist clenched on the table above the letters and he straightened his back, now towering over his desk. “What are you saying?” he growled at her.

“My name is Kaira,” she muttered. She was thankful for being seated then, as she could feel herself begin to shake. “I knew you died in the fire... How are you alive?”

The air felt heavy and thick. Nikolai’s chest was heaving as he tried to make sense of her words, but judging by his gaze, he did not believe her entirely. He stood up, and Kaira felt cold tendrils wrap around her arms and thighs, pinning her down into the chair. He bent over the table, propping himself against his palms as he drew closer to her. “Whatever game you were sent to play, whatever you think you know about me,” he whispered menacingly, “I will have none of it. So drop it before it starts to hurt.”

“Is it not too great a coincidence?” Kaira continued. “Your mother’s name was Yrsa, your father was Aleksander. Tell me I am wrong. Tell me what I said is wrong and I will take it all back.”

His jaw tensed. Kaira felt the tendrils tighten around her wrists for a moment, before they released completely. She breathed out in relief, caressing her skin; they had left no marks, but her bones still ached. She watched him sit back down, his lips pressed into a line and his eyes even darker than before. He was analysing her too then, and Kaira wondered if she could see in her what she saw in him. Then, without another word to her, he turned to look at Bastian again as though nothing had been said.

“I cannot do what you ask alone,” he started then. “I know the port of Yllevad, but the side of it that belongs to the Crown is highly guarded, and the only man who knows the shifts and hidden entrances is no longer part of my crew.”

Bastian shook his head slightly, seemingly stirred by the exchange, but he decided the man was not one who was happy to waste time. “And what do you propose?” he asked. “That we bribe him back into it?”

Nikolai shrugged. “Essentially. He left because of an… unfortunate misstep during one of our heists. He lost something precious to him, and I refused to go back for it.” His lips turned in a grimace of visible inconvenience. “I believe the only way I can convince him to work for me again is if I go back to take it.” Nikolai’s eyes pinned Kaira for a moment again. “And I need a second Volur for that.”

The knight tapped his fingers against the wood of his armrest. “We also need a Volur for something far more important than retrieving a trinket,” Bastian said. “We cannot risk her being harmed.”

“From my knowledge, and correct me if I’m wrong, you also do not stand a chance against Alastair so long as he stays up there,” Nikolai gestured dramatically, “surrounded by his well fed, well paid army of thirty-thousand men. So I would say you have no other choice. And believe me when I say I value my own life enough not to put us in too great a danger. I refuse to leave without unfinished business.” He offered them a brief smile before his expression darkened again.

Bastian knew he was right, but he could not make the decision for all of them. He felt both Islea’s and Kaira’s eyes on him; the Volur girl would likely do anything, she had no sense of self-preservation. It was the rest of the council that might oppose the idea of sending her on a quest with a mercenary who would probably strive to protect himself first. Still, after the discussion between the two of them, Bastian wanted to think he would be more inclined to protect her, if all they said was true. If he was truly her brother, then there was a chance that he would remain their ally and not betray them for gold. For her sake, at least. However, he already knew their plan, and Bastian would have to honour his promise. They still could not risk him ratting out to others and potentially reaching the ears of the wrong person.

“You don’t need to decide now,” Nikolai offered as he leaned back in his armchair. He looked worryingly unbothered, but there was a tension in his chest as he spoke. “You have until tomorrow, and I will not speak of seeing you. But know, I am a man of my word.”

*​

The way Kyel spoke about Kaira made Elisif's chest warm up with empathy. She understood the feeling, the urge of wishing to protect someone so badly, that even the thought of being a wall apart from them made one uneasy. She finished her second helping as he finished talking and she finally took a seat on the edge of the bed, resting her hand on his shoulder. He looked just like a boy then, worried and in love, but she knew better than to voice her thoughts. His temper was that of a respectable Lord, as he was, and she had no intention to upset him.

"She might not be as good a swordsman as you are, but she is undeniably a menace," Elisif tried to soothe him. "With or without a sword, she can protect herself better than you ever could. And I say this with all my heart, Kyel - your life is priceless. I am not alone in thinking we would rather have you alive and well than risk your life for a few kills. Your duty is to lead your men, to rule, not to fight. And if something happens... Your duty is to move on and be a pillar for your people, because with your fall comes theirs, and by extension all of us fall with you."

Elisif wanted him to protect himself. She knew she could not fight, but would stay in a tent or behind a castle's walls, waiting for news of his safe return. They needed all of them alive, for they were too few and too valuable to risk any loss. Still, she could not blame him for putting Kaira's life above his own. With Kaelan, she would have done the same. Even with Kyel. Had she been given the choice, she would have died in Kaelan's stead, for she knew he would have brought a much greater advantage to their cause than her own presence. She was intelligent, but not seasoned when it came to politics and war. All she could do was offer all that the council required, help in whatever way she could, allow them to take the reins of their fate.

 

[pointmango]

The air was still tense as they left the pub. Islea was in agreement with Bastain, they must seek the council. Their cause was greater, and they needed Kaira safe. But if sending her out with his brother will ensure his obedience in what they need from him, it could turn the tides of the war. Her main concern was the reason Nikolai needed her in the first place, what situation was so dire it required two Volur? Risking Kaira to bribe a man whom even Nikolai seemed uncertain of? Without this risk, without Nikolai, their chances against Alastair were poor, but should this risk be taken and the girl falls, then they stand no chance at all. Should the risk pay off though, they could gain in more ways than one.

The man knew their plan now. For that reason, and the benefits of the risk, Islea knew her decision already and she could guess Bastian’s and Beor’s as well. No doubt the girl’s too. It would not be a pleasing conversation of success she hoped to have over dinner.

*

Kyel’s eyes met her emerald ones, she was trying to relax him, and he knew all her words were right. She was always right, he remembered as a child she used to infuriate him at times with this, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a stolen kiss. Now she was right and he agreed, for the most part. His duty was to his land and his people, but he felt a duty to Kaira as well. Kyel leaned over in the bed, now on his stomach as he looked at Elisif, the slightest hint of a smirk coming to his lips, “She is a marvel, isn’t she?” He commented. It was true, on the battlefield, training, when she spoke before the council and especially when they were alone.

A knock came to the door and Kyel squinted slightly at the voice, “They’ve returned!” It was Jon, and his footsteps were carrying off as fast as they had come.

Kyel sat up almost too quickly, and he paused a moment to straighten himself. He stood completely and moved over to the other side of the bed holding out his hand to help Elisif stand whether she needed it or not. His hand squeezed hers lightly, “Thank you for everything,” he said. Then Kyel let out the smallest grin, “You know, you would do well as a Queen,” he teased before leading her out of the room.

They moved to the other room, where the group was gathered in Bastain’s room. Chairs and a small table had been brought in, and Kyel pulled a chair for Elisif. His eyes scanned their three travelers. He could not gauge any reaction truly, but clearly the plan had not gone accordingly if it required such a discussion. Bastain and Islea looked hard, and finally his gaze fell to Kaira, she looked completely safe and well, aside from her own intense expression. “What happened,” Kyel demanded.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira had stormed through the pub doors like a raging storm after the negotiation, followed closely by Bastian and Islea. She could not shake off the feeling of anger, pain and confusion around the man she had just discovered to be her brother, yet who had treated the realisation like a mundane piece of news. Did he truly not care? Had he grown so used to loneliness that the thought of finding family once again disgusted him? There were so many questions left unanswered that she wished she could ask him, so much she wanted to know, and while she had no doubts he truly was her brother, it felt completely surreal.

When they reached the inn, they all gathered in Ser Bastian’s room, where the rest had brought a couple of chairs and a small table to fit a tray of drinks while they discussed the events of earlier that day. Kaira sat down in the corner of the room, as far away from the rest as possible, her fists clamped beneath her black cape and her teeth tightly clenched, watching each member of their crew gather one by one, lastly followed by a concerned Elisif who, upon seeing Kaira, offered her a warm, reassuring smile. Although she did not want to leave the woman hanging, Kaira could not bear to reciprocate. She wanted to go back, to pin Nikolai against a wall and squeeze all she wanted to know out of him.

Bastian cleared his throat once everyone was sitting. “Well, the Rat was not there anymore,” he began, “but he left another in his stead. Younger, but a smart lad. A Volur, too.” Kaira could tell he was doing everything within his power to avoid the essential detail for the time being. “The only way he agreed to do what we asked was to recruit an old member again, who unfortunately needs some convincing.” He looked at the Volur then, pondering for a moment. “And the only way to do so, is to retrieve something that belonged to him… with the help of another Volur.”

Elisif’s frown cut deep lines down her small forehead. “He wants us to risk Kaira for his own benefit?”

“By his judgment, this man is our only key to breaking into the royal port,” Bastian offered. “If we decline, we have no chance of even laying eyes on Alastair’s supplies. That port is not just protected by a rope fence and a couple of brutes. That man of his knows his way around shifts and lesser known routes.”

Lady Vannbreak leaned back in her chair with a soft sigh, and Kaira knew she agreed. They needed every advantage they could lay their hands on, and there was no winning without taking some risks. She saw Bastian look at her expectantly and she pursed her lips as she thought. She knew they all needed to know the entire story, but putting it into words felt like too great a burden. Still, she could not throw it upon the old man’s shoulders. Her ties to him might sway the others’ perception on the danger of his proposal.

“His name is Nikolai,” Kaira sighed from her chair, “Nikolai Grimward. Apparently, he is my brother.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel’s gaze flickered to her with nearly every other word. Another Volur? Another task? What could be so daunting it required two Volur? He thought carefully, and tried to gauge those guarded blue eyes, or the slight pout of her expression. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. She was dressed in a deep cloak, and her dark hair filtered over her face. Her face was more impressive in the sombre light of Bastain’s room. Her eyes appeared lager, and the gentle slope of her cheeks and jaw were now more vigorous with the shadows. He imagined a sorceress who would stretch her hands and announce scorn and a spell for the room.Still, Bastain and Islea seemed to be on eggshells. He didn’t want her to leave again, and this time for maybe an extended period of time with a man none of them knew? No. He wouldn’t allow it.

The pin fell, her brother. Kyel’s chest clenched, judging by her demeanor it was not a warm welcome, and he wished to be beside her then, wondering if even the touch of his hand could comfort her. Once again his eyes fixed on her, and he wondered with speculation, trying to examine her face from afar as if he had any chance of reading the difficult language she possessed there.

“Another Volur?” Jon asked, while the rest of the council held concern, he held glee over his features. “And your brother? Well, isn’t that something? If you need anymore help, I’d be more than willing to accompany you Kaira,” Jon said looking back at her. Islea huffed at Jon hitting his arm, reminding him this was not the time. “Well, you and Bastain are right, without this man there is no chance… so we kind of have to take the risk right? Besides Kaira is fully capable-”

“We do not know what this task entails,” Kyel’s booming voice cut Jon off quickly. “Retrieving an item… it means nothing. We know nothing of this man, Volur, Rat, brother or not.” Kyel listed, “It is clear the council’s majority already lays in the risk of this excursion,” Kyel spoke with a deep frown, even if he opposed it, it was quite clear no one else did. “Kaira will decide, after learning more.” He spoke as if he had not minded the danger of this trip with another mysterious magical being and looked back at her then, “I will accompany you this time.”

“Your face will draw too much attention,” Islea began.

“No one knows for sure without my sigil and expensive cloaks.” He snapped back. “My stature leaves a guess, but that is all.” He pointed out to her.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira could not help but admire Kyel for his loyalty towards her. While the others seemed willing to risk her for the sake of the plan, he was the only one vehemently opposing it, as if his ears were stuck closed when they explained the reasoning behind their judgment. She recalled the way he had snapped at Adrielle the morning after the feast, and a soft smirk played on her lips briefly before it faded again. She wished he had his hand clasping her thigh again then, or that at least he sat close to her. His presence brought a comfort that was almost intoxicating.

Everyone was looking at her now, waiting for her to make a decision. She could see a droplet of concern in their eyes as well, except Jon, who was likely hoping for a diversion, no matter how dangerous. “I came all the way here, I am not backing off now,” Kaira said. “If we cut off Alastair’s supplies, it would allow us to launch attacks as well, not only wait and defend.” She could see it in Elisif’s eyes that she was not happy with her decision, as the woman leaned back in her chair and wrapped her arms around her belly nervously, biting her lip. “I am not going on a suicide mission,” she thought to reassure them. “If it gets dangerous, I will find my way out whether we fulfilled our purpose or not.”

With that, she stood up and, offering all of them a nod of acknowledgement, she stormed out of the room, her cape flowing behind her. Bastian watched her go and his gaze lingered on the doorway for a few moments. He could only try to understand what was going through her head then, after the brisk discovery. He made an effort to recall Nikolai’s face from years before, when he had come to see the Rat for the first time; all he could remember was a young boy, with dirtied hair and patched clothes that stood in the doorway of the pub with a cup of ale by his foot, sharpening a pocket knife. He would not have given him a second thought - an orphan bum, likely waiting for the right moment to pick a pocket, nothing like the man he seemed to have become.

“This mercenary, Nikolai,” Beor began, “did he recognize our Kaira?”

Bastian shook his head. “I think he did. Though, he brushed it off oddly quickly. Whatever tie he has to her… Gone. Only the resemblance left. This man is as cold as this town.”

 

[pointmango]

His brow stayed furrowed as she spoke. She was strong willed, and determined, the words he spoke earlier to Elisif were true, and most of all she could handle herself. But it would never stop the clench deep within his chest at even the thought of her being away from him. Even if the idea of him providing safety for her was a mere illusion, it felt true. He knew she would choose to go, he had hoped she would learn more details before an official decision though.

Kaira stood up and stormed from the room, Kyel’s eyes followed her, but he waited as Beor questioned Bastain. He had brushed her off, was this why she seemed so upset? Perhaps it was more. Bastain had one thing right, the men of this town held little remorse. He stood up and nodded to the others. “Enjoy the night, we will speak to the mercenary tomorrow, as agreed?” Kyel said and with a nod from the others he left. His heavy feet carried him to her room where he did not bother to knock, he opened the door and shut it quickly behind him.

He eyed her carefully, looking over the back of her cloak, it hung heavy from her shoulders, it would have kept the snow off well if any were falling. Was she warm now that she was inside and in a huff? He could hear Felix pacing in the other room, likely sensing Kyel’s presence close by. Kyel stepped closer to her again, close enough his hand reached for her forearm to turn her around.

Neither the sun or the moon shone in her room, only small, stained-glass windows graced the inn walls. He’d been waiting for her to return and now she was here, and he could not part his gaze from her. He was trying to read her expression, frustration only plaguing his mind since he could not. He was growing lonely without her voice, even with her presence before him. He felt a flush over himself as she stood there with those deep blue eyes gleaming bright as the lit scone on the wall. “Are you well?” He asked her quietly.