Fantasy - Wildfire - [CLOSED]

[pointmango]

She had fallen asleep quickly, again her brows furrowed and she held his hand tight. Kyel himself fell asleep soon after her, wishing the worry in her brow would leave her for another night. In the morning Kyel shifted hearing the door creak open, he was still groggy, not realizing how long they had slept. He was grateful for the voice he heard, he shifted, his arms still around her when Elisif told him her brother was here.

Kaira’s voice entered next and she pulled from him and the bed and Kyel frowned at the lack of warmth and that she was already ready. Kyel sat up in bed slightly then, had his sleep been so deep he barely felt her move? He frowned seeing how tired she looked, likely she had a restless night. He should have been more cautious, he should have stayed awake longer. Kyel wished to reach for her hand again, normally in the morning he would part with a kiss. Now she was leaving him worried and stressed out.

When Kaira was gone Kyel huffed a bit and sat up hearing the door close. He pulled from the bed and was not particularly gracefulled as he leaned over reaching for his pants to cover his undergarments. “It is just you and I now Elisif,” he said clearly tired from his night. He did not have energy to let Elisif’s deep thoughts plague his mind this morning. Perhaps he could distract her by asking how she felt, her due date was fast approaching. He decided to wait until after hearing what she had to say. Kyel stood tall, looking down at Elisif as he reached for a piece of bread from the table and lifting the stick of honey onto the bread, his eyebrows lifting.

*

Downstairs the group was positioned cooly at the table. Islea was pouring cups of ale for the entire group, passing them along. But Jon sat closest to the volur, unintimidated by his deep stare. “So being Kaira’s brother, are you just as powerful as her?” He asked. “What a twist too, I mean, the shock when she blurted it out yesterday. By the gods that was something.”

“Lord Pelletier, the man wishes for an audience with his sister. Not a game with you.” Islea huffed.

“Well while we wait I wish to know more. Should he be our new ally I’d like to know what kind of skills he has,” He said, wiggling his fingers like he had seen Kaira do. “I mean even if he’s close to Kaira, the two of them together could wipe a whole army. You saw what she could do, if it wasn’t for the wildfire we would have lost.” Jon said like it was clear as day.

 

[peritwinkle]

Elisif watched Kaira disappear through the door, and once it closed behind her and she was left alone with Kyel, her expression darkened and she turned towards him with her arms crossed. “Do I have to remind you of your titles, Kyel?” she quietly chastised him. “And that you are sharing a corridor with the council of Greenwall and Jon Pelletier, as well? What would you have done had they barged in, or had you simply… walked out of Kaira’s room and bumped into Beor?”

Lady Vannbrek’s neck was tense as she looked him up and down, trying to gauge a reaction out of him. Truly, she pitied him for his recurring situation of desiring women he could not have, but she cared for him enough to pull on his sleeve whenever she considered what he did could bring him harm. She unfolded her hands and leaned slightly against the table again, drawing closer so she could look him straight in the eye. Her expression was a perfect combination of annoyance and worry that muddled her delicate features.

“I know how you feel, Kyel,” she said more calmly. “But you cannot risk being the subject of rumours… Especially not when, for the first time in so long, there is a Lady interested in you that truly is halfway decent.” She pursed her lips. “If this fails… If it clashes with your Lordship, if one day you cannot marry for love… Keep it into consideration. I will not always be there to watch your back.”

*​

The common room Nikolai had stepped into seemed too small. He sat at a table with the rest of the Greenwall council and a younger Lord who had presented himself as the brother of Eric Pelletier. He appeared around Kaira’s age, but his maturity floated lower, and Nikolai did not know whether to be amused at his curiosity or completely vexed.

He had readied himself to part his lips and tell him there was time for such chats later, when he saw a dark silhouette descent from the stairs, donning a black cape with fur around the collar and hood. Kaira’s eyes were sunken and her cheeks pale, likely just stirred from her sleep, and oddly enough, in that state he saw herself in her even more. Nikolai stood from his seat and pushed his cup away, straightening his back before her; his sister did not fail to do the same, standing tall and regal in front of him, with her gaze agile and her expression cold, unreadable.

“So you agreed to come with us,” she observed.

Nikolai nodded slightly. “I had made up my mind from last night, but I couldn’t leave my business and go. There were things I had to settle.”

“And I suppose you settled them for a longer amount of time. Wherever your friend is, he will be brought along with us to Ironstone for a friendly chat. We cannot leave our allies out of the loop until the deed is done. It depends on how persuasive you are.”

The man eyed her with a subtle admiration. She was smart, he could tell that by now, but being surrounded by her new allies, it gave her courage. He wondered briefly where her guard was, perhaps off duty. Nikolai assumed that when they were safe, he resumed his role of Lord of Ironstone.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel took another loose bite of his honey smeared bread, chewing slowly trying not to let Elisif’s words add to his frustration. There was little chance of that. “I know my titles, Elisif,” he near snapped. It was not fair to snap at the woman who was only trying to help, and who maddeningly was right. But when she spoke she knew how he felt his eyes narrowed. “You do not know how I feel,” This time he did snap at her.

His hand came to his own face and he let out a deep sigh of frustration. He didn’t wish to be so harsh with Elisif, she was trying to help him. “Look, you are right, I do not want rumors.” Truthfully Kyel didn’t care anymore, but for many others sake it would be wise to keep them quiet. “But was it not you telling me just the other night I should chase whom I love?” He asked her, his gaze was hard, but his eyes did falter to realization at what he was admitting.

Kyel’s jaw tightened again, “Elisif, you never had to hide. We hid, but you did not love me. Not the way-” he paused again. Not the way I love her. “If you were distressed, he could touch your hand,” Kyel’s tone was softer now, sadness tinged within for both Elisif and her late husband and himself with Kaira. “It never mattered who was around. And people knew, and you were proud of him. And Kaelan was always so proud of you, and I know he still is.” His eyes became fixated on the piece of toast within his hand.

He had so much more to say , and yet he kept his mouth closed tightly. Kaira was upset, and assaulted and Kyel may have overreacted, and his intentions were intense from his own rage, but when she needed him, he held her. He paid no mind to who was in the hall or what the morning would bring. Or that he could not tell her. It would be so selfish if he did, to entrap her like that. Or worse, she would be frightened by the prospect and jump into another's arms. His mind shifting to the Knight from Elvgard and Kyel’s mouth frowned harshly. But what of others? No doubt any man would relish in the opportunity of her beauty and power and they did not even know the better parts. Did she still see herself as a mistress?

He wondered if she feared he would stray in Ironstone, he would make sure to be just as close to her in his own home. His eyes finally lifted again to meet Elisif’s again, “I see it in your face everyday. You’re strong, but I know you. I do not believe my will is as strong as yours, to live without him, without her.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Elisif’s heart ached as she listened to him; his voice was deep, stern, but plagued by a sadness that justified its rigor. She took one of his hands in her own and gently caressed it, before clasping it tightly and drawing just a step closer to him. There was so much she wished to say to him, so many thoughts and pieces of advice that seemed to clash against one another, for partly she spoke from her mind, and partly from her heart, and it was almost impossible to stay objective when it came to him.

He was right in saying they were not the same; with Kaira, there was still a blind hope that, maybe one day, they could defy the rules of nobility and unite, but with herself, union had never been an option, not only because her betrothal to Kaelan had been in the way, but because she had loved him, and she still did. Looking at him then reminded her of him and her chest burnt with a longing she had managed to stifle for the past month. She still loved Kaelan, with all of her heart, and knowing what she herself had been through, she wished that on nobody, but especially not on Kyel.

“I still stand by what I said,” Elisif murmured. “Life is too short to live it for other people… But that does not mean you shouldn’t keep in mind that there still is a chance you will not be able to bring this to a fairytale ending, and you have to take that into consideration, Kyel. Your people still look up to you, they respect you, and the best way you can repay them is to continue your father’s legacy.”

One more step, and she was now looking up to him right from beneath his chin. Elisif was not by any means a short woman, but he had always towered over her. “Do as your heart desires, but do it quietly. Subtly. Don’t leave room for rumour. Had she been a normal Lady or even a peasant girl, nobody would have batted an eye. But she is a Volur, and once an enemy to you. If they should trust her, trust should be earned. Nobody else saw what you saw of her. They don’t know her.” He would have to tread wisely at Ironstone and introduce her to the world slowly, for if there was one thing Elisif knew about Northerners, was that they did not take kindly to surprises.

With that, she broke away from him and gestured towards the door. “We should go, everyone is waiting. They want us to leave for Ironstone before noon.”

 

[pointmango]

The group followed the road along a thick and elegant river where the blushing light of the sky shimmered while the wind whipped the surface of water. Every so often they would pass a smaller stream that fed into the greater, but mostly they traveled at the edge of the thick forest of trees that clung all the way to the bank. The Northern river shores were more wild, and high rocky bluffs rose across the river as the land changed altitude. In the distance there was a watchtower, to which the ever curious Lord Pelletier rode up to ask Kyel who manned that. Kyel told him no one, and as they rode further it was clear that the weathered stones with overgrowth all along it was abandoned. “In the spring the tower is one of the only locations high enough for the vines to naturally grow the moonflower in the moonlight.” He told Jon.

“What a boring fact,” Jon commented.

Kyel laughed a bit, “Perhaps you would prefer to hear the ancient stories of how traders took refugee there to escape a river serpent.”

Jon nodded, puffing his chest some, “Why yes, I would.” He said.

Any hint of a smile left Kyel’s lips, “Good, there are plenty to read about in Ironstone’s extensive library.” He told him with a quick cock of his brow.

The group continued, the wind shifted again as the light was beginning to sink beneath the horizon. They would still have another hour or two to Ironstone. Every so often Kyel would glance back, an odd fear plaguing his mind at their last few attempts at travel. He still worried for Beor’s health, and the others were not as sprightly as they used to be. Even with now two Volur, he worried. Felix trotted up a head and then stopped, lifting his nose into the air, Kyel’s jaw clenched, something was wrong. At the other side of the river a tiny grey finger crooked over the treeline. It was rising from the bank, a couple miles away it seemed. “Smoke.” he muttered, but Felix was not so thick as to stop them for smoke. It was a distraction.

“Stop!” He called, but it was too late. Two figures fell from the tree tops and three sprung from the white topped edges of the cliff next to the river. Kyel turned in a half circle, swinging his horse around, Felix barked and some of the other horses were trumpeting, the snow seemed to muffle the sound from all around as the white cloaked men drew forward.

Kyel dropped off his horse and to his feet, he needed the leverage to swing as he drew his sword. He could see the others making movements as well, one closing in towards Beor. The men did not make harsh attempts other than deflection, they all circled towards her. Keyl saw Felix run past him, barking and growling to the cloaked man closest to Kaira, the man swung the hilt of his sword on the dog who flung eight feet back simply from the impact. “No!” Kyel yelled and he charged.

An arrow came to his shoulder, he was wearing his leather and chains. An arrow should not have been able to penetrate, and while it still didn’t pierce him as if he wore nothing but a shirt, he felt the break in his skin, Kyel yanked the arrow from his shoulder and marched forward with his sword raised. One of the white cloaked men closest to him set his hilt back into Kyel’s gut and sent the man stumbling back as though five hilts had jabbed him with full force.

 

[peritwinkle]

Riding beside Nikolai was an eerie feeling, as though part of a dream had seeped into reality. Being so close to him, seeing him no longer a seven year old child, but a fully grown adult now, was almost incomprehensible to Kaira. Every now and then, she could feel his own eyes on her - a hint that he was likely thinking the same - but as soon as she turned to face him, his gaze wandered to the horizon. It was as if he refused to acknowledge her relation to him, as if he had lived so long in solitude that the prospect of finding his long lost sister was seen as an invasion of his personal space and disposition.

He had brought along his little pet leopard, but unlike with Felix, he kept it in a large basket attached to the saddle as it napped. The animal was languished, almost limp, and Kaira wondered if it was sick or hurt, but she did not ask. She knew nothing about cubs, perhaps they were not quite as springy by nature. Its ears would pop out at harsher sounds, and she would catch a glimpse of the large blue eyes that resembled his owner's in the same way Felix resembled Kyel.

“Have you ever dreamt you would see me again?” Kaira had asked after a few hours since leaving Skellig.

Nikolai had shrugged coldy. “One or two times. I dreamt of you as a little girl, when we were playing in the garden. Once it was about an argument I think we had about who had to help mother harvest the chamomile.”

His tone had been stern, nonchalant, and had caused Kaira’s brows to sink. “Do you truly not care at all?”

After her question, she had seen his neck tense and his jaw set aggressively. “How am I supposed to act?” he had answered. “You are not the little Kaira I remember. And I am not that little boy, either.”

They had walked the rest of the trip in silence, admiring the slidering river and the rocky hillocks covered in snow. As they got farther and farther away from shore, the scenery was changing with every mile and Kaira was almost regretful they had chosen to pick up the pace of travel this time around, though for a good reason. While camping overnight was not that big of a hassle down South, it would be nightmare to try to get some sleep in the infernal cold and frozen dampness that shrouded the area after dusk. Still, they had fallen a few hours behind and would likely have to ride until late to reach Ironstone, and Kaira was only worried about how Elisif could handle a trip so long without a break, but the woman did not seem to falter. She had snacked on smoked ham, cheese and some muffins they had packed from the inn all the way from Skellig to there, and her only discomfort appeared to be the fact that she had finished them all. Lady Vannbrek had parted her lips to ask for something, when Kyel’s booming voice cut her abruptly and their horses came to a halt.

Five figures in icy white cloaks appeared from seemingly thin air, all wielding large greatswords embellished with silver details, and although their disruptors resembled Alastair’s huntsmen, Kaira did not recognize their attire, nor the craftsmanship of their weapons. ‘It cannot be,’ she thought to herself. ‘He would have learnt from his mistakes by now.’

Kaira’s eyes immediately shot to Elisif, and the woman knew to stay atop her horse and back as far away from the scene as possible. The Volur jumped off and landed ankle-deep in snow, then pulled her own sword from the sheath attached to the saddle and charged at the closest one she could find. Their swords clashed and he twisted the blade, staggering her and sending her a few steps behind, almost losing her balance. In the moment of reprieve, she saw the others fight as well, and although their attackers were outnumbered, each one of their blows weighed thrice as much.

As the one in front of her drew closer, Kaira let out a loud shriek and charged, and her sword clashed against his again, but this time she was the one pushing him back. The move should have sent him tumbling down through the snow, but instead, he only stumbled slightly and caught himself by pinning his sword into the ground, before pulling it out and coming towards her again. The silver glimmered in the evening light, and as it came closer and closer to her face, the realization struck her: they had to be Volur. They had to be, for how could they wield cursed swords were they mere assassins?

She did not get the chance to taste the steel. A wave of snow rose from below, shielding her and scattering into him, followed by a splash of red, and when the snow hit the ground again, Nikolai had appeared behind the man, with his sword dug right through his back. He pulled it out swiftly and kicked the man to the ground before running to help Beor and Islea. In the darkness, she could not distinguish people anymore, just black from white, man from stone, and Kyel’s wolf limping about, trying to avoid the clashing and heavy blows.

Three more were fighting the rest, and a fourth appeared behind her. He came charging, ready to cut her open with a swing from below. Kaira’s eyes darkened and she dropped her sword into the snow, then raised her hands and pulled with a venomous force towards herself. With her swing, icicles hanging from the rocks framing the river broke away and came dashing through the air, striking right through the white-cloaked shape in front of her. The man choked on his own blood and fell to his knees face first into the snow. Kaira bent breathlessly, with one hand on her stomach and the other reaching for her sword in the snow.

They were not human. She knew then, there was no way that the others stood a chance against them. She could not let them hurt the others. She could not let them hurt Kyel, or Elisif, or Jon. They wanted her and Nikolai, so that was what they were about to taste.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel couldn’t believe the force as he was shoved to the ground. He stood quickly, glancing back to see Felix, his chest clenching at the beast's injury. His hand gripped his greatsword and he trudged forward through the snow, the wind still unbalanced against him. His eyes widened seeing a blanket wall of snow lift to protect Kaira as she was almost struck, his head jerked towards Nikolai who had struck the man and was already moving to help the others.

Jon’s had fallen to the ground helping the others using a smaller blade to deflect any marches from the white cloaked men. Kyel wanted to yell at him, to get some fucking arrows in the air, fucking pluck them on fire too. Kyel was quick though, moving back towards Kaira as he watched her completely drop her weapon, using both hands to pull icicles to stab the man before her. He fell to the ground in a coughing fit, quickly stifled by gurgles.

Nikolai was fending them off well with the help of the others, but there were still three of these indestructible men. But the other two had died near flawlessly, their only deflection of their weapons…. Were the stories true? The great rumors of the North ringing to sound? No. “Disarm them!” Kyel shouted.

Jon was quick, ducking as one of the larger ones made a strike at him. He caught the man’s arm remembering what Kyel had taught him and struck the pommel of his own sword harshly down as he twisted, using his momentum. Jon hit him right over the wrist, to which the man let out a harsh yell and his sword fell to the ground. Jon’s small sword was quick like him, and he made a harsh slice over the man's gut and as he stumbled he watched Bastain grip the man’s head slitting his throat for good measure.

 

[peritwinkle]

Their swords were not nearly enough against them. As Kaira analysed the river bank, it was clear that even those two that were left were winning against their own people. They had gotten two by means of magic, while Bastian, Islea and Jon had barely managed one, who was now falling to his knees in a pool of his own frozen blood. Behind Bastian, who was towering over him with his sword stained red, rushed another white-cloaked man with his own weapon raised, but before it could slice its target, Beor managed to par it at the last minute. Albeit a good swordsman, Beor lacked in strength, and it only took half a swing for the man to slide the knight’s sword downwards and then slice across his middle.

Everything happen within a second. Kaira let out a muffled shout as Beor fell too his knees, holding onto the leaking wound, while the man’s sword rose above him, but never reached his flesh. The man bent from the back and dropped his weapon, then lifted on his toes as a dark veil surrounded him and pulsating veins protruded from beneath the skin of his neck. Kaira stepped towards him slowly, with her hands raised and fingers clenched, and with every step he rose an inch higher, crooking in from his joints in wailing pain. Eventually, he seemed to give in and his body fell limp before she dropped him back on the ground and averted her eyes to the other one.

“Kaira!” Nikolai yelled, but she did not seem to hear. Her eyes were dark, and a thin stream of blood trickled from her nostrils. The last one rose as well and his muscles contracted, his eyes bulging out as he struggled to breathe through the dark veil choking him. “Kaira!” Nikolai called again, and this time something appeared to have clicked within her, as she dropped him to the ground. He seemed to have frozen in fear for a brief moment, but long enough for Nikolai to grab him by the head and put his dagger to his throat. Kaira’s gaze remained absent on the scene but her mind was elsewhere; she swayed on her feet slightly before she fell into the snow.

“Don’t kill him,” Bastian breathed out. He had kneeled before Beor, who was struggling to pull himself back up on his feet. Blood stained his trousers and the snow beneath him and Nikolai could not help but feel pity. He hoped he would make it to Ironstone.

“I won’t,” he said, then bent down closer to his ear. “But I will if he doesn’t talk. He’s just wasting perfectly good air.” Nikolai tugged at the man’s collar and lead him towards Kaira's horse with the dagger pressed to his back. “Not so tough without your weapon, are you?” he spoke between his teeth.

“You will get nothing from me,” he said as he was urged atop the horse.

“Don’t get bold,” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “The only reason I’m not dragging you through the snow is because you’ll slow us down.” He glanced back towards Kaira and his gaze softened slightly. “I’ll ride with her. She’ll be fine by the time we reach Ironstone.” His tone was stern, but he was not quite certain about his words. What he had witnessed her do, he had never seen in himself or another Volur before. His gut wrenched at the thought, but he admired her. Those calling her the Black Death had not aggrandized her, it seemed.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel ran forward as another cloak struck the old man. No. But Kaira had moved in then, and she let out a dark veil of smoke that surrounded the man. It was nothing like he’d ever seen her do before. The man’s veins pulsed, and her arms were raised, the man floated higher in fear in his eyes as his body fell limp to the ground. She turned quickly, moving on the other one. Nikolai was shouting at her, but Kyel could not part his eyes from her. She stopped, and when she fell Kyel lunged forward without thought.

Kyel leaned over, looking at her limp body in the snow before he knelt to lift her up. “I will ride with her.” Kyel spoke sternly, his tone and gaze were clear, this was absolute. “You will take our captive.” He said to Nikolai. Kyel shifted her in his arms to better support her head and neck against his chest instead of hanging back over his arm. “Osmund, Sulfield,” He said in just as stern a voice, “Help Ser Beor.” Finally his gaze looked to Elisif, “Ride close to them please.” Lastly he landed on Jonathan, “Take Felix, please.” His voice faltered. Jon nodded back to him and Kyel knew he could trust him with his dog.

Kyel carried Kaira back towards his horse, his eyes finally landing over her face and his thumb filtered under her nose to push the blood from her skin. In this sleep her brows were not furrowed, which now worried him even more than when they were. He saw Islea taking the spare horses of hers, Beor was too large and would have to ride on his own. He lifted her gently onto his horse, and he climbed up behind her settling her comfortably enough should she wake during the ride. He leaned her head against his chest and his arms wrapped around her, gripping the reigns.

Kyel rode a head of the group, he needed to get her to Ironstone. He drove the horse faster, his own breath picking up from the movement and he gripped around her tighter, making sure she stayed secure against him. Riding through the castle walls his stature was recognized quickly and he was let through the gates. At the front he dismounted his horse, “Bring him to the stables. The greenwall council will arrive very soon. One is injured, see to it he is taken care of. Give them whatever they wish.” He said to the guard.

He carried her down the corridor to the room he knew he would give to her since they were in Whitevale. He stopped a handmaid in the hall, “Bring the nicest furs we have to the last room in the west hall, the third floor.” He said to her, she looked startled, clearly knowing who he was but startled at him addressing her. “Yes, my Lord… welcome back..” she nearly trembled glancing to the girl in Kyel’s arms. “Call the doctor too, please.” he said as the girl nodded.

Now he stepped up the stairs with her in his arms and brought her to the room at the end of the hall. He opened the door to the cozy room, the fireplace in the corner needed wood. The room needed warmth. It was night, so the excellent view was difficult to see in the night. Kyel’s concern was her as he laid her on the bed, pulling off her thicker layers and boots. His hands came to her cheeks, and he looked over her face carefully. “Wake up Kaira, please,” he whispered.

He pulled from the bed and pushed some wood into the fireplace, working with the stones to ignite the fire. When the doctor came he gave her a quick exam as Kyel explained the situation. The doctor’s touches were timid and gentle. Curse the North, what if she were injured? Would he never know because the man was afraid of her. He claimed fatigue and left quickly. Now the fire was roaring and Kyel was pacing the room, pulling off layers as needed until he was down to the white shirt he placed beneath his leathers. Every few paces he would turn to look at her, his hand over his mouth, he couldn’t fucking think, he needed her awake. And by the gods, what were those things? Those men. As soon as she was awake and well he swore to himself he would go and find that white cloaked man and beat him until he spoke.

 

[peritwinkle]

Nikolai tried to assess the situation with as little emotion as possible. Although he would have wanted to carry Kaira himself, he knew Lord Skovgaard would tend to that job just as well, and he did his best to push the sentiments regarding him away from his mind right then. Still, the man was too large for the both of them to ride on the poor horse’s back, so he quickly tied the man’s arm with a piece of climbing rope attached to his saddle, then tied the reins of another horse to his own, secure enough to ensure that they would not have to chase him through the night if he got too bold for his own good. He decided to take his sword as well, for good measure, and place it in one of his own sheaths, away from his reach. They would have to analyse it later.

The others were quick to mobilize Ser Cadmus Beor on his own horse. The man barely stood up right, now clenching a piece of fabric to his middle where he bled, and judging by the pallor of his skin, it was not anywhere near a light flow. It was Ser Bastian that took the lead, Lady Vannbrek and Ser Islea following right behind, on either side of the wounded man. They were not riding nearly as fast as Nikolai would have preferred, and in the darkness of the night and the absence of any sign of civilization, it was difficult to tell where they were. Thankfully, their prisoner remained silent for the entirety of the trip, grunting now and then whenever Nikolai pulled on the reins for some brisk turning.

They reached Ironstone within a few hours of the clock, but judging by the moon above them, the night was still young. Guards were waiting for them at the entrance and seemed to know exactly what to do, which Nikolai supposed was the doing of their Lord. He dismounted quickly and undid the knotted reins, then reached up for the white cloaked man and pulled him down by his sleeve. Off the horse, he fell to one knee on the ground and the snow beneath him stained red. He was wounded. Good. “Throw him in the deep,” he said to one of the guards. “Make sure he doesn’t kill himself before tomorrow.”

As they helped Beor down, he took a moment to admire the fort - it was grand, imposing and dark, like a mountain standing out in the snow, and unlike the other places he had seen, the afferent town was farther up on a hill, torches glimmering in the distance. In the night, it seemed much more sinister than he would have imagined, but so long as it promised warmth, a bath and some food for his pet, Nikolai did not care for anything more. He reached for the basket and gently scooped out the frightened animal, then set it down at his feet. It swayed briefly, but followed him with loyalty through the yard.

“We need to get him sutured,” Lady Vannbrek’s voice trembled as she trailed behind the group. “And tell Lord Skovgaard we have arrived.” They had put the man on a makeshift stretcher and the men visibly struggled with his weight; he was quite big for a man his age, built well from decades of training. It almost pained Nikolai to think how the man felt then, what an agonizing way to go it was. He would have preferred to die with a sword in his hand, or in his sleep. Something either glorious or completely unfelt.

Once inside the castle, they lead him to the closest room which had already been aired and heated up, with bedding prepared and a healer in the doorway, holding on to a tray filled with medicine in glass bottles, ointments, a few pieces of thread and a curved needle. On the bedside was a tall glass of wine, so strong that Nikolai could smell it from here. They set him on the bed, and they all drew closer to look, their eyes gouged out in worry and lips pursed tighter than a maid’s pocket. Nikolai decided to lean against the door frame instead, content with watching from a distance. For a moment, he was tempted to go look for Kaira, but he knew she would soon be well. He could check on her in the morning.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t coddle me like this,” Beor groaned as they struggled to remove his garments quickly. His voice was shaky and weak and a cold sweat trickled down his temple. “I’m not… I’m not dying just yet.”

“Of course not,” Bastian frowned, then reached for the cup of wine. “You’d better down this,” he said, and Beor reached for it, then finished it from a few large gulps.

“You’ll have to lie down,” the healer said as he finally reached the wound and began wiping away the excess blood.

“Has there been a healer sent for... Lord Skovgaard as well?” Lady Vannbrek murmured, but there was no answer as he set the towel down and carefully pierced the skin.

*​

Kaira woke up to the sound of crackling fire and a strong taste of blood in her mouth. When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell on a dark, high ceiling lit up by a fireplace and a couple of candles. She was laid in a bed with fur blankets and thick pillows, and she was comfortably warm. A grunt escaped her lips as she tried to move and felt her muscles tense painfully; how long had she been asleep? Memories washed over her and she recalled the attack, a wounded Beor and the surge of darkness that had followed. After that, she remembered nothing.

“Kyel?” she whispered as she tried to prop herself up. In the dim light, her eyes finally fell on him and she relaxed slightly.At least he was safe. “Beor…” He had to have made it. They had to be in Ironstone, for she doubted they could have found an inn with rooms quite as luxurious and cozy as that. Her heart skipped a beat at the prospect that she had been too slow to save his life. No. Ironstone had to have good healers, they had to have gotten there on time. He would be well by morning, she knew. He had to be. They needed him.

 

[pointmango]

Jonathan helped the limping dog from the horse back. The beast was heavy and wondered how Kyel managed, to contain him even as a pup. Soon a guard… no, his dress was far too elegant. Another Lord perhaps? A knight maybe. Nonetheless, a man with fiery red hair came to his aid, and Felix whined happily at the man. “Poor beast, what happened?” The man’s voice was deep, and he was almost as tall as Lord Skovgaard, but his structure was not as impending to Jon, likely because his build was much more slender.

Jon explained the scene, over explained really, the man’s brows furrowed hearing the tale of magic performed by both ends. “I will see to it Felix is taken care of. Thank you..?” He asked.

“Lord Pelletier, of Riftmere.” Jon said.

“Ah, thank you Lord Pelletier, Lord Skovgaard will be grateful you saw his pup home safely.” The man answered.

Jon didn’t have time to ask the man his own name, Beor was hurt. Jon was pointed to the room he was taken to where most of the others were as well. He walked inside and a healer was already in the room working upon Beor. Jon watched the scene, moving closer to the old man he had grown to love. It could not be that bad, could it? His voice shook and he could see the stern look upon Isleas and Bastain’s faces, but their eyes said it all.

Jon heard lady Vannbrek ask of Kyel and Kaira, no answer. He wondered if the healer did not know, or if he was too focused. Jon glanced back to Nikolai wondering if he felt discomfort. Probably was nothing new to him, he knew how much Northmen hated volur, Jon was certain he pretended not to be one most of the time. Word would not have traveled that they came along with two volurs but would only know of Kaira. But if Nikolai spoke his surname, he was sure others would suspect.

“I can go check on them,” Jon spoke up in a stern tone, his face hard for once.

Islea shook her head at Jon, glancing to Beor, “We should send a guard,” she said quietly. She wanted Jonathan here, it was good luck for the entire council to be there she believed as she counted prayers within her head.

“The girl is fine.” The healer spoke finally in a harsh voice. “Fatigued, likely from the magic.” He tongue twisted sour upon the last word, but he kept working on Beor.

*

Too much was reeling through Kyel’s head when he heard her voice. The captive. The white cloaked men. The weapons. Kaira’s power. Kaira. He turned quickly, moving to the edge of her bed, leaning over it slightly. He saw her shift and his jaw tensed pushing her shoulder back, for once there was no resistance or even leaning into his touch. “Beor is being taken care of,” Kyel said. He had no idea, he could only assume, and hope.

Kyel now sat down on the edge of the bed, his waist turning to look at her and he leaned over just slightly, his hand closest to her moving onto the other side of her waist to rest against the soft plush of the bed. “You could have died.” He said looking down at her, he tone held shockingly no malice, in fact worry plagued his eyes. “They almost killed you. And that … spell or whatever it was, you are not to do that again. Or we will practice or you will-” he cut himself off as he was working himself up.

He leaned over her further, his other hand coming to rest against the soft skin of her cheek. After brushing his thumb over her cheekbone, his hand came more firmly down her face, gripping her chin and willing her to look at him. His pale eyes serious as he looked down into those deep blue ones, likely still groggy from sleep. He needed her to understand, “Never tell me again you don’t need protection, if it wasn’t for-” He stopped. If it wasn’t for Nikolai you would be dead. He wanted to say it, but to give her brother such credit where he could not, where he so badly wished he could. “I will not see you die Kaira. Do you understand me?” His head pressed down further.

 

[peritwinkle]

The healer worked for quite some time on Beor without a word of protest other than a muffled grunt against the piece of fabric the poor man was biting into each time the needle pierced his skin. He had lost so much blood that Elisif was surprised he was even awake, but she assumed it was the adrenaline keeping his mind alert. He was strong, he had always been so, and it pained her to see him like this. She wondered what went through the man’s had; he likely thought they saw him as weak or pathetic. Nonsense. He had saved Bastian’s life knowing he stood no chance against that white cloaked menace.

After tying the leftover thread in a tight knot, the healer gently patted the wound clean with a cold, damp cloth and dug into his satchel to pull out a small container with a pungent smell. With gentle touches, he applied the ointment along the line of the suture. “Don’t cover it tonight,” he said as he worked. “It would be best if it stayed on until tomorrow morning.”

Beor did not answer. He had closed his eyes and was breathing slowly, finally having found a moment’s peace after the excruciating pain. The healer gathered his instruments and concoctions and finally got up, turning towards those watching. “He should make it through the night. The cut was not too deep, but he lost a lot of blood. You should let him sleep, though. I will send a servant to let Lord Skovgaard know everything went well until now.”

Once the healer was gone, Elisif claimed his seat next to the bed and rested her hand on Beor’s shoulder. He was warm, thank the Gods, and he breathed at a healthy pace. Bastian came behind her, his hands in the pockets of his trousers and one of his legs shaking nervously. She wondered if the man blamed himself for the wound, even though he had no reason to. Had Beor not been so quick to block the blow, he would have been cut in half on the spot. The thought send a shiver through Elisif’s spine and she quickly cleared her head of it.

“Those were Whitecloaks,” Nikolai spoke from the back of the room. Everyone turned, and he looked at them with a languished gaze, his lips twisted slightly in a grimace. “No man that size would have Lord Skovgaard or Ser Bastian stumbling back from one blow. And had they been Volur, they would have used magic.”

“We have seen Alastair send men to rescue Kaira,” Elisif said.

“That did not look like a rescue mission to me,” Bastian shook his head. “Besides, they wore white. I did not get a good look at their swords, but from what I did catch they did not look on brand with House Daeron, either.” He looked to Nikolai then. “I think Nikolai might be right. It’s hard to believe, but not impossible. After what I saw his sister do today, I believe anything now.”

*​

Kaira’s eyes followed Kyel across the room as he came to sit next to her and drew so close, she could feel his warm breath against her skin. His clothing still radiated cold and he smelled like pine and winter. She figured they had not been there for long, but she had been out of it for quite some time if he had taken her, reached Ironstone and removed the top layers of her clothes. As she looked at him, she recalled Felix and her heart twisted. He had come all this way for her, leaving a bleeding Beor and his limping wolf behind, worried about nothing more than a fainting spell.

“I am fine,” she whispered to him and shook her head. “Nikolai had my back. I probably would have parred it as well, I know it… Kyel, I am fine. I have done that spell for Alastair, it was… His preferred alternative to a strangling execution. I just…” She sighed. “I suppose I tried to do too much at once. But it is not me who you should be worrying about now.”

She sat up on the bed and ran her fingers gently over his cheek. He fretted so much about her that the servants must have thought she was a poor damsel. It made her wonder what they would think once they were told what she truly was. “We need to see Beor and the rest. And Felix. Nikolai.” Her neck tensed. “I won’t be coddling myself in a bed of furs until I know everyone is well.”

Slowly, she turned to the side and once her feet found the wooly rug beneath, she used his shoulder to push herself up. Her sight turned dark for a moment and she lost her balance, but swiftly returned to her senses before she could fall down again. “Is this your chamber? It’s… as grand as I imagined.” she observed as she slipped back into her boots. Kaira’s head ached intensely, all she wished for was a warm bath and a strong mint tea to rid herself of the metal taste in her mouth.

 

[pointmango]

Jon watched the old man in pain, his eyes full of worry. A man of his age would not recover quickly from a wound like this. The healer gathered his things, picking up announcing to the room he would send someone to inform Lord Skovgaard of Beor’s well being… for the time being anyway. With the healer gone Elisif claimed her seat beside him, nurturing the old man. A good mother already, Jon thought.

Nikolai’s quiet exclamation silenced the already quiet room. Jon, now leaning against a wall closer to Ser Beor shook his head, “The whitecloaks are Northern myths and tales to scare children.” he said agreeing more with Elisif in the moment. But when Bastain spoke up, Jon feared the myth was not legend. Which only made him wonder what other tall tales of the North were truly lurking out in the depths of the snow.

*

((It is always you I will be worrying about.)) He could not escape that, and she sat up her face moving closer to his as her hand came to his cheek. His jaw tensed at the mention of Beor and Felix, and his gaze cast away from her, “You need to rest, Kaira, we can see them in the morning.” She asked if this was his chamber, his furrowed brow lifted slightly, and he shook his head, “No. My chambers are down the hall. These will be your chambers.” He informed her. As he finished his hand moving to her waist as she propped herself up further. “Be careful,” he spoke sternly.

A knock came to the door and Kyel moved her towards the end of the bed, and he placed her hands on the post so she could steady herself without them. Kyel cracked open the door and the same handmaid from earlier bowed her head to him. “Lord Skovgaard, I’ve been sent to tell you Ser Beor is well. His injuries are serious, but he is stitched and resting. The others are well too, they are likely being shown to adequate lodging as we speak.” She nodded again.

Kyel nodded to her, “Thank you. And Felix?” he asked quietly.

The girl shook her head slightly, and Kyel’s chest clenched, “Your dog has been given a sedative to rest, m’ Lord.” she spoke quickly realizing what her head shake indicated. “I believe they set his hind leg. And now he requires rest. Lord Rand is with him.” At that remark Kyel’s chest lightened, Felix would be well with Rand beside him.

“Thank you.” Kyel dismissed her and he shut the door quickly moving back to Kaira. “Everyone is fine. You can see Beor in the morning, as will I. And Felix.” He said to her, then he pointed towards the bed, “Now, you need to rest.” He spoke as he approached her. His steps were slow and calculated, and his eyes searched her face again for any hint of fatigue or other emotions too.

But Kyel did not wish to rest, Beor was well. Injured, but he would live. And so would Felix, and Lord Rand was the next best human to be by his side other than Kyel. He stepped forward again, this time his arms wrapping around her waist and pushing her back until the top of her thighs hit the edge of the bed. Instead of leaning her back, his pulled her against him, leaning down and pressing his lips against hers. At first the kiss was gentle, his mind thinking on how he felt about her. But as his mind lingered, he recalled the night they had and how she had almost died at the hands of the white cloaked men. He had his own suspicions that they would deal with in the morning, for now he kissed her harder. One of his hands moving from her waist to the base of her jaw, gripping her to lean up further into him.

When he pulled away from her, his forehead pressed against hers, still holding her jaw. His own breath was heavy, some from the kiss and some from the anger and fear growing within him. His nostrils flared as his eyes finally opened to look down at her, “Are you afraid, Kaira?” He asked her quietly.

 

[peritwinkle]

Her chambers. Kaira’s brows furrowed slightly, was she surprised? She knew Kyel would have not given her the tightest room in the castle, but something quite this spacious and elegantly decorated went a step beyond her expectations. She had parted her lips to ask if all rooms in Ironstone looked like this, when a knock on the door broke the silence and Kyel revealed it to be a young servant with large doe eyes, came to inform them about the state of Ser Beor and Kyel’s pup.

They were fine. Her fainting had not been in vain then, she had not been too late. Still, there was a nagging thought on her mind that Beor’s condition might worsen through the night. Knowing the others, Bastian and Islea would stay by his side until morning; she could only pray that Elisif would choose to sleep. A pregnant woman should not have to see and experience such strong emotions. Kaira made a mental note to check on her in the morning, before they questioned the white cloaked man. The woman had given her so much that Kaira felt indebted to her with at least a reassuring embrace.

“Fine,” Kaira sighed as Kyel closed the door and returned to her. “But should a servant come and announce his condition has worsened, I want you to wake me up. And at the crack of dawn, I will-”

She could no longer finish as his lips crushed against hers and his strong arms pulled her towards him. Kaira reciprocated the kiss, although more reluctantly, still shaken by that evening’s events. When he pulled away and his voice boomed in the silence, Kaira’s eyes opened to look at him with palpable confusion. “Me? I am never afraid for myself,” she whispered, and her fingers gently tapped in waves over his cheekbone. “Nosebleeds or not, I still have life at my fingertips.”

With that, she closed the gap between the two of them again with a slow, consuming kiss, pressing herself into him more. Everything hurt, every bone and muscle in her body from the fighting; her head was boiling with untamed thoughts and worries, and her heart drummed so quickly, he likely felt it against him through their clothes. She longed for a bath almost as much as she wanted him, and had he not kissed her then, perhaps she would have expressed her gratitude for carrying her away verbally, but for that moment, she hoped her touches would suffice.
*


The room was warm, smelling of sweat and their scents. Kyel's head rested onto the pillow, his arms wrapping around her to nuzzle her into him. He would have to leave again tonight. He couldn’t stay, but he wished to. If his chamber was left untouched the servants would be suspicious. “There is a feast we have in Ironstone, called the Feast of the Warriors. It is to celebrate the first men’s claim to Ironstone.” His hand took hers and he intertwined their fingers, his thumb toying over the back of her palm. “In a few days the city will celebrate the occasion, and Warriors from all over. Fallen or not.” He said quietly. “The day is filled with games, and markets. And the night holds one of the largest feasts of the year.” He pressed forward a small smile. “I will send our dress maker to you.” He told her then.

Relaxed as she was, Kaira barely felt Kyel’s next movements, and only opened her eyes again when he pulled her to his chest. She was still breathing heavily, still shaking, and she pressed herself against him to ground herself, resting her head in the crook of his neck. His voice sounded like a lullaby in her ear then, and it took everything within her power to actually process what he had said.

“Mm,” Kaira mumbled against his skin. “Never too many dresses, hmm…? Elisif will be jealous you took over her duty.” She smiled weakly before closing her eyes again. Her shivers had died down, but she felt completely limp and powerless and the throbbing ache in her head returned. That night had been unusually active, so much so that she was surprised she was even awake. “Please don’t leave me tonight, will you?” she mumbled again, but this time she fell asleep before she could hear an answer.

 

[peritwinkle]

WILL​

Kyel’s head canted downward, the hint of a smile toying at his lips, “Elisif will play a hand if you take her along, I’m sure.” He said. He might need to remind Elisif it was cold in the North, and exposing her as she had would be more risky. Besides, Kyel did not want any men looking at her more than they already did. There was something so prideful and yet so envious of having Kaira but not actually being able to have her. His face pressed into her hair as he thought about her, her beauty and her strength. His hand played over her waist, they both needed baths, they smelled like Skellig, and the woods and a hint of iron still lingered. He wondered if it were the walls around them though. When she asked him not to leave Kyel pulled her in tighter. He thought over an answer, he could stay. But to risk rumors? And his advisors would be waiting for him. Besides, there was Felix and Beor to see, and if he shifted in the morning, she would come to see them as well, and she needed uninterrupted rest. He leaned down, pressing a long kiss to her forehead and noticed she was already asleep. He stayed a while longer, making sure her breathing stayed steady. When the sky lightened just a hint outside, he pulled from the bed, pressing a soft kiss to her hair once more before dressing and leaving the room, tossing the pillow sheet into the fire as he left.

He called a steward for a bath to be drawn, after bathing he slept for a bit and the steward returned to wake him. From there he dressed in much more regal attire, dawning a deep blue coat and trousers to match with silver highlights and a black cloak as well. He would have preferred to wear leathers as he so often did around Ironstone, but no doubt people would be trying to see him today.

His list of souls seemed never ending, Felix first. Then Beor. He needed to speak with the Whitecloak, and then with the rest of the council. Updates were needed from Tokesten on the army and their training status and from Lady Sadelyn about the books gathered from the expansive libraries in Farrest. Kyel left his own chamber, heading for Lord Rand’s. He knocked on the man’s door, Rand opened it with his shirt undone, still getting ready for the day. “Lord Skovgaard,” the tall red haired man beamed. Kyel nodded to him and Rand opened the door further. Connaugh Rand had been around Kyel since he was a boy. A few years older than him, Rand was the son of a great war hero, and a Lord who made his vow to serve House Skovgaard when Kyel’s father was in rule. He was a friend too. “He’s doing well,” Rand spoke of Felix. “Whined a few times throughout the night, no doubt wants to move about without rest, much like his master.” Rand commented, a hint of a smirk coming to his lips. Kyel knelt beside Felix, the dog nestled against his leg and leaned into his touch while he pet him. His eyes remained closed and Kyel let out a soft sigh as his hand came to the beasts center, it would be alright. “I want you to stay with him today.” Kyel spoke sternly then.

“Kyel, no the council-” “You will stay with Felix.” Kyel shot up and the dog by his leg whimpered. Rand’s demeanor changed towards his good friend. Kyel noted how tense and upset he was by this fact. “Your Uncle and General Krey will not be as open minded about the Volurs.”

“They will have to be,” he said firmly. Kyel stood and nodded to Rand, “You will join the rest of our councils Rand, but today you will stay.” He bent over to pet Felix one more time, “I will see you tonight,” Kyel said to him and he rose again to leave Rand’s room. His next trip would be to the General’s chambers. He was one of his fathers most trusted advisors. They had fought in the great war together, defending the North from foreign invasion when they were young so long ago. He knocked at the door and entered seeing the old man and his Uncle waiting for him. Both of them bowed their heads, and Kyel nodded to them. General Krey was a short man, thick and stout. He had white hair pulled into a top knot, and deep creases at his eyes, his skin looked stern and weathered. A great sword always rested at his hip, Kyel recalled the man telling him once when he was a boy; “It is every man’s right to choose when to sheath a sword. Even mine, or yours Kyel. Do not shy from battle, one man against fifty at a narrow passage.” He was describing his greatest victory during the war. Kyel was certain now it was an exaggeration, but as a child wonder held in his eyes listening to the man his father held in such high regard. “Not a bad way to die. Songs have been made about less.”

Beside Krey stood his Uncle Jarvas, his features held similar to Kyel’s. His height matched his nephews for the most part, although his face and shoulders had sunk from years of wear. This man’s hair was salted with grey and white while cut short. He was slightly thinner than Kyel as well. “More and more like Sulvan each day.” His Uncle muttered the name of his fallen brother.

“Do not fret Kyel, I believe you take after your grandfather, Orwen.” Krey spoke with a glint of a smile. “Has much been configured about the attack last night? Your last raven from Riftmere was… sparse as well.” Kyel shook his head, “We will speak of the attack at council. Any updates as well. For now I ask you to continue your hospitality towards our guests.” He thought. He stepped forward towards the Generals desk. The man had a map laid left in right, planning a war he was hardly involved in.

“Your troops are not enough.” Krey commented, looking to Kyel for an explanation.

“They will be if we cut off the supply channels.” Kyel pointed to the port in Yllevad. Krey smiled and glanced at Jarvas as well who nodded. Kyel filled the pair in on some of the plans, but he could not waste too much time. He still had to see Ser Beor. He parted from the General and his Uncle.

Kyel walked more purposefully down the halls this time. He passed a healer on his way into the room Ser Beor was being kept. His brow furrowed further, looking down at a man he had grown to love over his lifetime. Kyel bowed his head, “I am sorry, I could not protect you,” he whispered touching the man’s shoulder. “You have done so much for me. It was the least for you, old man.” Kyel smiled weakly and he sat down beside him. Kyel bent his head and did something he hadn’t done since the death of his mother. He prayed. He prayed to any god that would listen, he was not a Pious man, but he prayed to Vaeldria and Meira. He even called upon Nephys. Someone to help the man in any way possible. He heard footsteps at the chamber door, and Kyel’s hand moved from Beor’s shoulder. He stood before he turned, and as he did he was met with the face of a different Grimward other than the one he left in dawn of the morning. “Thank you.” Kyel spoke to him in a stern tone, making sure his eyes met Nikolai’s from across the room. His resemblance to her was so familiar, so uncanny, and yet they were so different at the same time. Kyel did not explain, and he did not feel the need to, without Nikolai, Beor would be dead. Kaira may have suffered that fate as well, and in turn maybe the others without his help.

PERITWINKLE
​

Nikolai had leaned against the door frame, playing with a decorated pocket knife as he watched him. He had not slept that night, clear from the dark circles underneath his eyes. His mind had been plagued by what had happened, trying to piece every clue together, from the identity of the men that attacked them, to the others’ mention of some past attackers, to Kaira’s outburst which had completely baffled him.

Kyel rose and thanked him, to which Nikolai offered a subtle nod. There was no need for gratitude. He had just found his sister and he had no intention of losing her again. This time, he would blame himself. He was tempted to ask about her for a moment, but he reminded himself the man likely would not admit he had stayed with her. He would say he did not know, that he had sent a healer. His jaw tensed slightly.

“We should go get some answers,” he finally said to him before slipping the knife back into his pocket. “I don’t want him to get any ideas before we get a chance to tug on his tongue.”

With that, he turned around and headed for the dungeons. He knew the way, he had gone there before going to his own chamber the night before, to make sure the man had not been given any water or food. He had not said a word to him, nor had the man seemed interested in chatting, but Nikolai believed he could make him spill something - blood, at the very least. He had his own ways, but he was unsure about his reasoning. If his suspicions were true, then there was no real discussion to be had; Whitecloaks were thought to be savage beasts when it came to Volur, and they were loyal to no-one but eachother. Still, he could hope that this one would falter when his life hung by a very thin string.

At the doors leading into the dungeons, Nikolai allowed Kyel to take the lead. They passed a few guards standing by the entrance, and a few more posted every two enclosures. The place was quiet and empty, the only exception making the white boulder that sat on the floor of one of the stalls, leaning against the wall behind him with his gaze lost on the dusty floor. He had not been given much, other than a pot that was empty, and a chair in the other corner of the enclosure. One of the guards came with a key to unlock the door and Nikolai was the first to step inside, dragging the chair with a slow, sharp sound towards the middle of the room and gesturing for the man to sit with a wicked smile on his face that vanished just as abruptly as it appeared.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he said. “Sit. We have much to talk about.”

“I will not talk,” the man answered, his voice deep and husky.

Nikolai chuckled and looked at Kyel. “I offered him a comfortable seat and he won’t even accept it. What a humble man, but not a good way to start.” His expression soured. “You will have plenty more choices to make today, bully boy.”

*
​

Kaira had found her bed empty and cold in the morning. She should have expected it. He had left without telling her, and Kaira did not know whether she was upset or thankful he had not awaken her for a goodbye. Yet, Kyel’s servants would have prepared a room for him, and would likely come see him in the morning wth a tray of breakfast and proper clothes. If they found an empty bed, there would certainly be questions, and the servant who had prepared Kaira’s room would have the answers. She did not know how much Northerners enjoyed gossip, but women were women, and with a stag as their Lord, some whispers were unavoidable.

It was only then that Kaira had the chance to admire the room he had given her: it had a tall ceiling, with beautiful arches made of walnut wood and a low hanging chandelier in the middle; the fireplace covered a good portion of the wall in front of her decorated with a tapestry depicting a white fox between two pine trees. There was a large armchair with a matching tabouret set to the left of the fireplace, and a couple of floor pillows thrown around a low tea table. Her bed had a high canopy in a pale blue with delicate embroidery at the edges, which matched the darker blue bedding topped with more pillows and fur blankets than she would truly need. To the right of the bed, by the door, there was a tall wardrobe that was likely empty, her trunk of clothes settled at the foot of it, untouched. There was a door in the back of the room, different from the one leading into the hallway, which Kaira assumed would be a closet, or perhaps a private bathing room.

A light knock on the door announced the entrance of a servant, the same girl that had brought the good news of Beor’s health the night before. This once, she had a tray of food in her hands, with toasted sourdough bread, jam and soft cheese, and a mug of frothy milk that smelled heavenly, of vanilla and cinnamon. At the sight of it, Kaira’s stomach wailed and she immediately sat up and glided to the other end of the bed to reach for the milk. “Thank you, do you know-”

“You have clean towels in the bathing room,” the girl said hastily and gestured towards the door by the fireplace. “L-Lord Skovgaard said you had clothes for today, though I will bring you warmer shoes.”

With that, she scurried off and closed the door behind her with a muffled thump. Kaira’s gaze remained on the door for a bit, in confusion, before she remembered that Kyel might have told them who she was. With a sigh, she dug into her breakfast and cleared the tray quickly before heading to take a long bath and rid herself of the salty smell of Skellig and Kyel’s own scent on her skin. Once she was finished and dry, she slipped into one of her warmer dresses in a dark violet, with a deep cut neckline that made her wish for a scarf to cover the exposed skin. It was much colder in the North, and even the thicker dresses Elisif had given her were not quite enough, but she figured she would not have to endure the chill for too long.

Her steps lead her out of her room and down the corridor, searching for a servant to ask about Beor. She did not know his state, but nobody had come to inform her, which meant he was likely still asleep after that night’s fighting. As she trotted down the stairs, she spotted a familiar bush of golden hair at the bottom, and Kaira was quick to catch up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder to turn her around.

“Elisif,” she sighed as she looked up and down the woman. As beautiful as Lady Vannbrek was, she looked undeniably exhausted and pale. Still, the woman met her with spritely eyes and she wrapped her arms around her quickly, before pulling away to analyse her as well.

“We all worried about you,” she said.

“I am very much aware of what I got myself into,” Elisif shook Kaira by the shoulders slightly, before taking her hand. “Come, I was heading to see Beor. I asked some girl to bring him tea, in case he wakes up and feels thirsty. Lords, was it hard to find a servant in this… massive maze of a fortress. No wonder Lord Skovgaard is so grim and stern, one can only match his home.”

“I suppose you were born in a garden of butterflies, then?” Kaira poked. She was walking quite quickly for a pregnant woman and she struggled to keep the pace. Kaira shook her head. “No need. Elisif, I meant to come and check on you, I know a woman who is withchild should not have to see-”

“Precisely,” Elisif nodded. “My home is surrounded by a beautiful garden, and we often find quite unique butterflies there in the summer. Have you ever seen a kyanite fledgling? They are so large and beautiful, they almost resemble a real fledgling! And it’s the exact color of your pretty necklace.”

Kaira’s hand touched her pendant instinctively. She would have to ask Elisif of her home once, and why she had never seen family until then. Should they not have come to her husband’s burial?

Her questions vanished as Elisif opened the door in front of them and they stepped into a slightly smaller room than her own where Beor had been set on a large bed with freshly changed white linen. The man was asleep, his left hand on a thickly folded cloth on his lower abdomen which Kaira assumed it was some sort of compress. There was a tray by his bed with a cup of tea, a steaming teapot and a biscuit sprinkled with brown sugar.

“I asked them to put puppy milk in the tea,” Elisif whispered behind her as Kaira came to sit next to the man on the edge of the bed. Looking down at him, his cheeks were of a slightly pink hue, which meant he was on the right path with his recovery. She could not see the cut, but judging by the size of the cloth, she assumed it had not been something superficial.


Elisif drew closer to the bed as well and stood behind Kaira; the floor creaked under her step and the man’s lid flickered slightly. His eyes parted and he looked around the room with slow, languished movements.

“You are in Ironstone,” Elisif whispered to him.

“I know damn well where I am,” the man groaned. “Lords…”

“It’s the poppy milk. The healer wants you to rest.”

Immediately, Beor did not look too pleased about that. The man would have likely wished to attend that day’s council, and had he not been given a sedative, he would have insisted on walking. Kaira stood back up to give him space as Elisif walked up to the other side of the bed to pour him some tea, but Beor fell back asleep before she could fill the cup. Kaira made a gesture towards her to leave, allow him to sleep. She had a feeling he was not one who enjoyed being coddled. He was as proud as he was old, but his determination to still fight was admirable.

WILL​

Kyel and Nikolai moved into the dungeon, as a boy these chambers had always frightened him. He was ten when his father took him down there to see a real interrogation. The man was a traitor, passing plans along from the very depths of Ironstone to anyone who was willing to pay. They cut each finger first, then his manhood trying to get him to talk. He endured torture for days and when he would not speak they finally his tongue. Kyel recalled hearing he died from infection months later.

He pushed open the cell door after one of the guards unlocked it for them. Kyel entered with Nikolai, and Kyel stood back surveying the sunken man. He watched Nikolai drag a chair forward, speaking to their captive. The man’s voice was certain. Kyel frowned. If the stories were true the Whitecloaks vows were sacred. But stories were stories, and this Whitecloak before them was a man, and any man could be made to speak. As Nikolai teased looking back at him, Kyel shook his head, “Let’s make the right choices,” he agreed and stepped forward gripping the man by the back of his neck, willing him to stand and shoving him down to sit in the chair.

Kyel knew Nikolai had better means to make this man speak, but for now they would try simple attempts. Before Kyel could open his lips though, the man was glaring at him. “You disgust me,” the man growled. “Your father would never stand for their kind to knowingly step foot here.” The man spoke and he spat in Nikolai’s direction. Kyel’s immediate thought was justification, it was for the war, anyone would do what he was doing. His hand came around the whitecloaks neck enraged for even feeling the need to explain himself. Years and years of hate flooded back into him over one man’s comment. Kyel had come to learn the Volur were not what he was taught. He squeezed until the man’s face was red.

“Who are you?” Kyel growled.

“A protector of the North.” The man croaked back.

Kyel’s gaze shifted to Nikolai, “Can you make him speak?” He asked, already wanting to rip the man’s fingernails off. He could not gauge if this one would speak, or remain loyal to his oath.

PERITWINKLE​

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at the pathetic man. Too proud for his own good. He set his jaw and stepped forward, now clasping his own fingers around his neck; he grunted, and Nikolai looked him in the eye as his skin turned pale and his fists tightened, gripping the chair underneath him in pain. “Not so tough without your sword, hm?” Nikolai growled close to his face. “I know there is no way in hell any of you would have been able to fight us off like that. If you hate Volur so much, isn’t it a bit hypocritical that you would use an enchanted sword agains us?”

The man tensed under his grip, visibly struggling, but he kept quiet. Nikolai’s fingers dug deeper into his skin and he finally let out a stifled wail before gritting his teeth to keep his mouth shut. A pair of steps echoed in the corridor and Nikolai finally released, turning to see Kaira posted at the entrance to the enclosure with her arms crossed. Her gaze flickered between the two of them and their attacker, before settling on Nikolai.

“He won’t say a thing, will he?”

Nikolai pouted. “He’s a bit shy, this one. But I have my own ways.” He turned back towards him and bent slightly so he could look him straight in the eye, propping his hands against his knees. “How about we do it this way, hm? You give me something useful enough, and I spare your life. Obviously, without your sword. You can live your life as an invisible man from now on, and the rest will have treated you as dead.” He smirked. “You give us any bullshit and I will make sure you will die a long and very painful death.”

The white cloaked man said nothing. Nikolai’s lips curled up again and his brows lifted, waiting as he pulled out his pocket knife and started drawing circles on the man’s knee. “Decisions, decisions…”

“Hunter’s Pass,” the man croaked, his lips turned in a disgusted grimace. “That’s where we were headed. That’s where Alastair will hit next.”

Kaira frowned and took a step forward. “Why do you know that?”

The man said nothing. Nikolai let out a long, vexed breath. “They have Seers. Magical swords, white cloaks to get lost in the snow, ‘protectors of the North’, Seers… These guys have the whole package.” He turned to Kyel then, raising his brow. “Does that sound like a Whitecloak to you?”

 

[peritwinkle]

WILL​

Kyel watched as he struggled under Nikolai’s grip, he wondered what he was doing to him. He let out a wait, and then Nikolai released the man, Kyel’s eyes turned to see Kaira at the entrance. He turned back as Nikolai began again on the man, toying with his knife at the mens legs.

Kyel’s head jerked hearing Hunter’s Pass. His nostrils flared, the town was sacred, and far too small to defend against Alastair. Lord Byrin Salgair had always been honorable and loyal to the North. His face contorted realizing the Whitecloaks were going to defend Hunter’s Pass. “When will he hit them?” Kyel stepped forward, “Why is he hitting them? They are too small to prove much significance to the Crown.” He watched as the man shook his head. Kyel reached forward and gripped Nikolai’s wrist, shoving the knife into the man’s leg and he let out a loud wheeze. “If you have sworn to protect the North, tell me.” He knew his voice was far too desperate, he did not care. He twisted the knife in the man’s leg.


“A week Lord Skovgaard.” The man croaked out.

Kyel stepped back running his hands through his hair. Hunter’s Pass was already a few days a ride away. “Troops,” he muttered thinking it over. They could not send them, all… they could.. But what if the raid was a bust? How many men was Alastair bringing, who was her bringing? His eyes shifted to Kaira, knowing she would be thinking the same thought as him. “Tell us everything your seer has told you. Who will be there? How many men from Windhold?”

The man seemed to understand, losing a Fort like that would harm the North’s morale more than their chances, but it was still a desperate motive. It looked like he wanted to comply, but his eyes shifted to Nikolai and Kiara. Kyel felt rage surge within him again, and his first came into hard contact with the man’s nose and it began bleeding with a loud crack. “They are helping us win this war. Tell us what you know.”

PERITWINKLE​

Kaira watched in silence as Kyel tried to extract as much as he could out of the Whitecloak, this time no longer shying away from violence. He could be lying, giving them false information to throw them off track. But why would he be working for Alastair? It did not make sense, the King was known to work with Volur and his reign was based almost entirely on magical tyranny. If the Whitecloaks called themselves protectors of the North, why would they lie to the Lord of Ironstone?

“He is advancing,” Kaira said to Kyel in response to his unanswered question. “Hunter’s Pass is the first town at the border with Windhold.”

“Why would he not attack Wendlyn if he wanted to stretch out?” Nikolai frowned.

Kaira let out a soft sigh through her nose. “He probably got angry none of his attempts at getting to me worked. He knows I’m here.” So, he either wanted her back, or wanted her dead, though the latter did not seem very likely - Alastair knew Leon would not survive the fertility ritual, and it would take him months, perhaps years to find another Volur strong enough and willing to sacrifice oneself for the King. She chewed on her lower lip and her arms tightened at her chest. “He knows I will be there to defend Hunter’s Pass. But you’re right, something doesn’t sit right… He wants to unify Valera. That has been his main purpose since the beginning. It would be much easier to hit where Leon can do all the work.”

Still, they had not left Elvgard and Riftmere entirely unguarded, and Pyke had kept most of its soldiers. In case of an attack, it would be much more difficult for Alastair’s army to breach such old fortresses. Greenwall had been an easy target, small and peaceful, but it was also one of the very few castles that did not house their own Lord and noble family.

With every handful of soldiers they had gathered from each House that agreed to help them, they now had enough to protect themselves against Alastair’s army, and with a bit of luck, he would not send all of his forces at once. She would have ask Adrielle about the book from Farrest again, see if the ring would give them any advantage, or if she could use it to somehow communicate with Leon before the battle.

Nikolai stepped forward again and walked in front of Kyel, looking down at the Whitecloak. “This is your last chance,” he spoke as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “What did your Seer see?”

“Blood,” the man replied harshly. “Blood spilled… By a Volur.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed again. “How many of you are there?”

The man pressed his lips together. “The North shall never have your kind defending it, nor spilling blood on its g-”

Steel glistened in the dim light of the cell and the Whitecloak hurled his head back, blood spilling from a deep cut down the middle of his neck. He gurgled and choked as it pooled down to his lap and soon, all warmth vanished from his face and he fell on the ground, limp as a carcass. Nikolai wiped the edge of the blade on his trousers nonchalantly, a look of disappointment on his face.

“You said you would spare him,” Kaira pointed out.

“If he gave me enough. He gave you half a piece of information and nothing about their kind. With Skovgaard’s son here so willing to take us under his roof, do you think he would have given us anything more?”


Kaira shook her head and she looked to Kyel. Nikolai was right, but what they had learned that day was jarring. “So the Whitecloaks still exist, they have at least one Seer among them, and Alastair is planning an attack on Hunter’s Pass. We have less than two days to alert House Salgair and plan their defenses. Most importantly, she needed to know everything about that ring; if her suspicions were true, this battle could be won in a fair fight.

WILL​

Kyel’s rage was flaring as the Grimwards discussed loudly. Would Alastair stop at the Pass? Would he continue up until the forces he could spare were gone? And now the prospect of Leon, the purpose of hitting somewhere Kaira would be? Kyel almost wanted to suggest she stay here. But without her would be suicide if Leon was there. The man’s answer to Nikolai’s answer was only more frustrating, of course blood would be spilled by a Volur. But Nikolai slit the man’s throat before he could finish his rubbish of a vow. Kyel frowned deeply, they could have kept him, Rand or Krey could have tortured him and tried to gather more information on this battle.

Kyel moved, “We need to head to council. Now.” He spoke sternly. Then he turned to Nikolai, his hand balled in a fist and pressed against the man’s chest. “Never kill another soul under my roof without my permission.” He growled and turned on the man heading out of the chamber. “Clean up.” He spoke to the guard. He passed another guard at the top of the stairs, “Call on Lord Rand. Find Frencesa in the kitchens, leave her with my dog.” He said to him.

*

The Ironstone council room was regal. The table was a massive circle of dark marble and iron cast scornes decorated the walls as a servant scurried around lighting as many candles as they could while the room filled with souls. The walls were made of dark wood, and the high ceiling let in only the slightest bit of light from two large windows also brandished in iron designs.

Nearly everyone was there and already seated. The able bodies of the Greenwall council and Jon, the women of Farrrest, Elisif and Tokesten were seated beside his Uncle and General Krey. He and the Grimwards pressed inside, and Kyel stood at the end of the table while the others were seated. He wasted no time, “We have confirmed with our captive. Whitecloaks are not the mere myths of men.” He told the group. “They have a Seer, and their Seer has informed them Alastair is planning an attack on Hunter’s Pass in a week.” He saw his uncle already writing things down, “Send word to Lord Salgair. Prepare his home and his forces.” He said to his Uncle. Now he looked to Ser Tokesten, “Prepare three thousand men. We will march to Hunter’s Pass in two days and defeat Alastair’s forces.”

Jon leaned in, “Lord Skovgaard,” he began, “How do we know this man is not lying?” He said. “They tried to kill Kaira. I am not disputing his claim to be a whitecloak, but wouldn’t a whitecloak alert someone of power? If they fight for this side anyway.”

“I will not lose Houses to the King because I wish to call a bluff,” Kyel spoke darkly.

“It does not sound like a lie.” Adrielle spoke. “I’ve read many stories about Whitecloaks. The take their vow very seriously. He gave up this information knowing Hunter’s Pass needed help. I am sure of it.” The mousey haired woman spoke.


The council chamber doors opened and a red haired man popped in. He took a quick seat beside General Krey who leaned over, whispering to him and filled him in. But now Kyel spoke, “Kaira believes he will send Leon, the current Royal Volur,” he glanced pointedly to Lord Rand, knowing the others already knew. “with some forces.”

“Should I prepare more of my Wildfire?” Jon asked with a small grin.

“Our goal is not to destroy the Pass.” Islea reminded Jon. “But perhaps some for your arrows,” She nodded. Her attention moved back to Kyel, “How many men does Lord Salgair already have?”

Kyel shook his head, “Maybe one thousand. Probably less.”

PERITWINKLE
​

The council was called upon soon after the interrogation and Kaira wasted no time before joining Nikolai and a very worried Elisif into the room. The place was dark and sullen, but solemn, with a tall ceiling and a round table lit by a large chandelier right in the middle of the room. Her brother had not said a word to her after they had left the dungeons and the look on his face was enough to let Kaira know he did not agree with Kyel’s ways. Nikolai was a man of doing rather than reacting, and although she agreed with Kyel that it had been a hasty move, she understood him. He took no chances, which was probably what had gotten him to where he was then.

As everyone claimed their seats, Kaira decided to occupy the one between Nikolai and Jon. Elisif came last, taking the one on Jon’s other side, her bright green eyes flickering between Kyel and the Grimward brothers with concern. She knew the North did not want her there, let alone her brother as well; one Volur was already more than they could swallow, but to her surprise, nothing was said or whispered in her presence, or at the very least they did a good job of being subtle about it. Even as Kyel began to speak, all eyes were on him, and Kaira allowed herself to relax in her chair, trying to piece the large and convoluted puzzle of events and information in her head.

“The King is wasting no more time,” Bastian observed. “He tried to get to Kaira, and then into her head. This time around he might not be as cautious. I am sure he is not happy about her joining our forces.”

“He might not want to kill me,” Kaira said. Her gaze was low, contemplative. “I have something that he desperately needs. I am stronger than Leon, or any other Volur he could pluck off the street. If he kills me, he will lose his chances at producing an heir with his wife, at least for a good while. This battle might just be another attempt at taking me back.”

“And I doubt he will ask nicely,” Bastian added. “We will need to prepare ourselves. And the ring…” He looked up to Adrielle then. “It has been a week since our council at Riftmere. If you have not received a response to our request yet, then we should take those two days to also find a clue about the ring Alastair’s Volur gave to our Kaira.”

Our Kaira. She felt her chest warm up at Bastian’s words, but forced her expression to remain stern. “Either way, I will keep the ring,” she said. “I know Leon would do everything within his power to at least protect me. And I stand by what I said at Greenwall, I will have nobody harm him. If something happens that is out of place, I will deal with it myself. Our soldiers should just mind their own heads.” ‘And make sure we dig a deep whole in Alastair’s numbers while we’re at it.’

WILL​

Adrielle nodded, “Only three books have been found thus far. All sent here, I have them. Two are written in the old tongue, one focuses more on enchanted Volur artifacts.” She informed them. “I have requested they keep looking as well. I will also search the Ironstone library.”

“Then we will be ready for the King’s forces.” Kyel said nodding to Tokesten. “You make sure they are prepped with good iron,” He added, now glancing at Krey who looked sour but nodded.

“My Lord,” Krey began cautiously, “Would it not be wise to suggest a duel? Prod the King, Volur on Volur?” Kyel knew what Krey was thinking, less blood, and the world without one more Volur.

“No.” Kyel said before anyone else could speak up. “We need Karia. The King needs her too, and without her he clings to Leon.”

“Is the Volur not the most powerful the word has seen in decades? Longer even? It can kill it’s master. In that case we might not even be concerned with the other Volurs trickery of the King’s supply port.” Krey questioned.

“She will not be doing that.” Kyel sneered.

“General Krey was only thinking of less bloodshed, correct?” It was Rand who chimed in then, sensing his good friend’s rage, and glancing in the direction of Kaira before back to Kyel and the General.

“Yes, yes. For the lives of our men.” Krey mumbled sitting back unto his chair.

“Our men’s lives depend on the well being of Kaira Grimward,” his voice boomed.

“Our home can only remain ours with their help. So General, I suggest you find a way to motivate our troops, some of them will have worse discriminatory judgement than yourself.” He could feel the disgust radiating from Krey beside him, he knew his Uncle was no fan of the Volur either, but knew better than to speak against it. Especially when they were the key to winning this war.

“Now,” Kyel said. “Two days. We ride for Hunter’s Pass in the morning.”

PERITWINKLE​

Kaira could see the way Nikolai’s jaw tensed as Krey pressed forward his own proposition. He did not know Leon, nor was he aware of her closeness to him, but he likely was unenthusiastic about the prospect of a duel as Kyel. His fist clenched on the table as he chimed in. “Better mourn a thousand men than the whole of Valera,” he said. “Powerful or not, Kaira is young. There is room for mistake, and if she slips, you will be left without your best advantage.”

“If Alastair puts Leon against me, there is no way he can walk away from it,” Kaira cleared it. “He is sworn to him by magic, so he will fulfill his duty to him. If we don’t fight face to face, he has means of… avoiding certain situations. And regardless, I have no intention of harming him. He is not the face of evil, Alastair is.” She would do everything within her power to stray from Leon during the fight, focus on defense for as long as she could. Perhaps shoot her lucky shots in the very beginning, when their troops were still separated; in their position, it would be easier to set some traps to tip the scales in their own favour before the fight even truly began.

At Kyel’s final conclusion, Kaira decided it would be best to lay all her thoughts on the table while everyone was still listening. “I will have to address all of your men heading into battle.” She looked to Tokesten then. “I will tell them what to do, and how they can aid me, to make sure my own magic does not hurt them, and that I am protected as well. But first, I have to study some maps of Hunter’s Pass, make sure I take advantage of our field.”

“Of course, Miss Grimward,” Tokesten nodded with the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“And Dame Sadelyn,” she continued. “Please have the books sent to my room. I will start reading after this gathering. There is no time to waste.”

WILL​

“It is settled.” Kyel spoke. The council shifted and Adrielle stood quickly to go and retrieve the books. Kyel watched Kaira leave the room and the others as well. He stopped Krey. “Get me a map. Our best one that show’s the layout of the Pass.” Kyel told him. Krey nodded.

Next he moved over to Rand, who smiled at his good friend and shook his hand. “An invite to the meeting after all? I would ask why, but I think pulling me by your side in battle must be the cause?” He said.

Kyel did not grin back to his friend, “Thank you, for that.” Kyel spoke in a low tone.

“Nonsense, Krey is so old and thick headed he cannot look past what she is for the benefit of our lands. He will come around. Your Uncle is trying, he knows the stakes a bit better.” Rand patted Kyel’s arm.

Kyel nodded, meeting Krey in his for the map and parting without another word. He waited down the hallway until he saw a servant girl come with books to Kaira’s room, and then leave without them. It was then Kyel turned down the hallway and he entered her chambers. “I brought this.” He said holding up the folded map. “I thought I could help. I know very little, but still some of the old tongue.” He said to her as he removed his cloak. He moved over to the fireplace and set in logs and tinder lighting the structure quickly.

His gaze looked back to Kaira, his brows furrowed as he thought of how Krey had spoken about her, not even to her he thought so low of her kind. His jaw was tight and he leaned against a desk positioned in the corner of the room. “Was I that insufferable when I first arrived at Greenwall?” He wondered.

PERITWINKLE​

Adrielle had been swift with retrieving the books, which made her wonder if the woman did it in the hopes of glowing brighter under Kyel’s eyes. When the servant knocked on her door, Kaira had merely gotten to her room and was just slipping out of her boots and into a pair of comfortable wool socks. She received them with a nod of gratitude and closed the door behind her with her foot before settling them on the tea table in front of her bed. They were quite heavy and dust still nestled in the more narrow crevices, but otherwise in good enough shape that she did not have to worry about tearing a page. Most likely, they were copies of the original manuscripts - always good news, for the writing in copies was often easier on the eyes.

As she settled into the armchair by the fireplace and grabbed the first book at the top of the pile, the door opened again, and this time it was Kyel walking inside, holding what seemed to be a large map. She watched him shift about the room before setting the piece of parchment on the table by the window and leaning over it to analyse its contents. His voice was low and deep, nervous almost, as if he were concealing a frustration, and the inquiry that left his lips last confirmed Kaira’s assumption that the council had left a bitterness in him.

“Mm,” she nodded quietly as she returned to her book and lifted her legs up on the plush surface of the chair as well. “You were dramatically stern and seemed to have the emotional range of a leather belt. All you knew was you hated me, didn’t wish to hear anything else.” She shrugged as she flipped a page. “Though you were considerably nicer to the eye.”

Kaira nestled the book between her knees and the armrest, letting her hand fall on the side of her thigh, her fingers tapping on the exposed ankle as she browsed through the chapter with her other hand. It was difficult to focus on reading with him there, especially after the night they’d had and the morning he’d left her to endure, like a common whore. Instead of plaguing her mind with that memory, she forced herself to focus on the book. This one described magical artifacts, and someone had placed bookmarks throughout its thickness which Kaira intended to analyse one by one. She found a mention of connections between family-tied Volur, but thus far, nothing resembled her theory.

WILL​

His gaze turned back to her when she nodded and murmured softly. His brow lifted as she described his emotional range, to which he could say the same for her. She was not wrong though, he knew nothing about her but what she was, and he tried to tell the Greenwall council to kill her. And now the thought of her death was worse than his own.

He watched her begin to read, her hand falling to her ankle, and his eyes lifting upon the gentle glow of her calves. His jaw clenched again, this time less angrily, and more… hungrily. They had work to do, he turned back to the map and placed a wax pourer on one side, and a candle holder on the other to keep it from unraveling. He plucked one of the books from the bed and opened it. The old tongue. His brows furrowed again as he scanned the pages, picking up words he recognized. Both his parents and his tutor thought it important to be decently versed in other languages, Valeria had one mother tongue, but ports and traders were littered with foreigners. And his father said it was smart to know the old tongue, which he came to realize quickly as knowing thy enemy.

Sometimes he would come across words he recognized, but could not place. It was then his eyes would gaze up, and glance over to her, picturing the words on her lips, speaking the old ways. With the fire light perched so elegantly beside her, casting a wicked shadow behind, but illuminating her he found himself staring more often. He found himself picturing her telling him to Come here. in the old tongue and his brow lifted slightly, his gaze falling to her plunging neckline. It was only then did he see the hint of a mark upon her neck. And while anyone could have seen today, and thus inferred the worst, he could not help but to let the corner of his lips lift in the slightest smirk.

PERITWINKLE​

A good amount of time passed in silence as Kaira scoured through the pages of the book in search for something relevant to her issue. Under each one of the bookmarks there was a paragraph or two that seemed to touch so briefly on the subject, but nothing ever concrete enough. After reading though the last of them, she closed the book and reached for the other one, placing the first back on the tea table. Immediately upon opening it to the first bookmark, the title of the chapter jumped to her attention - “Kun Sanctum”, which translated awkwardly to “Spirit Knot”. In the corners of the page were illustrated a few different pendants and trinkets in black and coloured ink.

As she read, Kaira felt Kyel’s eyes burning against her skin, and she looked up, only to see him with his nose buried into the map. Her gaze trailed down the line of his jaw, to the arch of his wide, muscular back, and she imagined the red scratches her nails had left on his skin. Finally, it fell on the tightness of his coat around his middle, where the rims met the edge of his belt, and she found herself chewing down on her lip for a moment before shaking herself back to reality.

“It says here that there is a spell that lovers used to know of eachother during battle,” she said. “Each of them would carry an item, that would keep them tied to one another in a spirit knot.” She looked up to him then. “Could this be it? If they knew of one another in battle, it meant their minds were… somehow always communicating. Maybe that’s how Leon knew I survived the Greenwall wildfire when he left that message for me on Kaelan’s letter.”

WILL​

Whenever he stared and she would look up, he would center himself back on the book or the map, making sure not to waver. When her voice finally broke the silence he listened intently. He nodded, moving over to her, one hand resting on the back of the chair, the other on the arm as he bent over looking at the book in her hands. He knelt down slightly then, and his gaze turned, looking up at her now. “It makes sense.” He said simply. He did not have a lot of natural insight on the subject. “I saw the fire… I knew of your power and still, I thought you were dead.” He recalled the first time he saw her in battle from a distance.

Then however she did not amaze him, she frightened him to his very core. She was magnificent, but quite easily horrifying, especially as she had played for Alastair’s team. “We could test it.” He suggested then. “Keep reading and searching of course, but if you wear it into battle, perhaps as you get closer to him you can reach him. And then we will know. You will be safe, me, Bastain, anyone could pull the ring from your finger should another episode like the one from Riftmere occur.”

“Or we could test it another way,” His hand came to her ankle just above her own hand. He pressed gently at her flesh, his eyes on hers, “Does it say the spell?” He asked her. “You have a necklace, and I have a ring.” Kyel suggested, he was no Volur and so he was not sure if the ring would work both ways, or even at all. But perhaps she would be able to at least project into his head. His brows furrowed again at the thought, his hand squeezing up her leg slightly, did he want her in his head?

PERIWTINKLE​

She felt him walk up behind her and Kaira settled herself in her chair so that he could see over her shoulder. Yet as his hand came to her ankle, she felt her skin crawl and tingle at the mere feeling of his own flesh against hers. She let out a soft breath, willing herself to focus on the book. “I still don’t know if mine works both ways, but it says here that the spirit knot is supposed to inform both participants. Perhaps I could know of Leon as well, but I am yet to learn how. Or, perhaps he found a way to make it so that only he can know of me.”

She could see how such spell would be harmful. At his suggestion, Kaira immediately shook her head and placed her palm on his own over her ankle. “No, that will not happen,” she decided. “If something happens to me, I don’t want you distracted. I will keep reading more, there is no need for such experiments.”

The mere prospect of him knowing if she got injured or killed made her gut twist painfully. Kaira knew he would be preoccupied with her wellbeing with or without a spell, but distractions were a death sentence in the middle of battle. She wanted him focused, alert and ready to defend himself first. She would speak to Tokesten, find a way to stray as far from him as possible, although she did not want to leave him unprotected either. With a long sigh, she bit on her lower lip again in thought. If only she could send a letter to Leon and ask him, it would he so much easier.

Kaira squeezed his hand against her skin and moved it up ever so slightly, reaching just underneath the edge of her dress. Gods, what was she thinking? Her chest puffed as she leaned back and her other finger traced her neckline nervously as she struggled to keep her mind focused on the book. His scent was once again taking over her senses and she felt the inside of her thighs burn, like heated tendrils slipping up with each moment he got closer or she felt his breath against her skin. She wanted him again, irrationally so, and a part of her wished he could see it, whilst the other, still upset with him leaving her, kept her poised and cold as ever. It was only the fidgeting that gave her away, and the slightly picked up pace of her breathing. Her hand over his moved higher, now revealing her knee, before she nonchalantly moved it to flip the page.

WILL​

His jaw clenched when she immediately refused him. His brow furrowed at her comment, if she was injured or in danger he wanted to know. And now he wanted the connection. He was already stressed about the battle to come, and he would have to work with both her, Krey and Tokesten to develop a plan of defense. They had no more secret weapons, maybe Nikolai, but with the power they could assume from Kaira it did not mean too much.

She squeezed his hand and willed him higher, his eyes focused there a moment, but from the corner of his eyes he saw her hand lift to trace her neckline. He wished those were his fingers touching along with her. Her hand moved even higher and he sucked in his breath more deeply this time, his hand taking over the motion as it moved up to grip over her thigh.

From his position Kyel moved up slightly, and his head leaned down now, his other hand came from the side, moving under her jaw and turning her face to him, he pressed a deep kiss against her lips. His lips pulled from her and he turned her gaze back to the book, holding tighter beneath her jaw as his lips pressed to her neck, and then above to the lobe of her ear. “Read the page for me,” he whispered against her ear and his lips began to suck over her lobe.

 

[peritwinkle]

Her hands came to cup his head and traced delicate swirls in his hair. She slowly slipped from underneath him and turned, throwing one of her legs over his side and using it as an anchor to pull herself flush against his chest. She could look him in the eye then - he was damp with sweat, his cheeks heated, and she likely looked the same. Kaira let out a muffled huff which turned into a giggle, and before she knew she was laughing, her brows lifted and her chest shaking.

“You were so good,” she managed between trills of laughter. “It felt so good.” She took one of his hands and placed it on her neck, this time asking for a much more gentle touch. “I think you left a mark,” she giggled again.

 

[pointmango]

His own fingers filtered over her waist, tracing circles over her hips and pulling her closer as her chest pushed against his. He smiled a bit, looking at her hair, slightly a mess from the activity. She let out a huff, and then a giggle and then a laugh. He smiled, his lips curled in a genuine grin as he watched her laugh. A soft echo of deep laughter fell from his chest too. He wished to make her laugh like this always. The noise was brilliant, and the look of pure joy upon those eyes and those lips were so beautiful he felt like he couldn’t bear it.

“Good,” He confirmed, “you felt good.” He murmured. He let his hand move with her direction, and the corner of his lips turned up into a smirk as she knew of the bruise at her neck. “I did,” he whispered to her giggle. “Right beside another smaller one from last night,” his finger lifted slightly on her neck. He leaned in and pressed a very gentle kiss to each mark then. “It is hard not to join in your ecstasy when you moan for me like that,” he smiled quietly, recalling the biting of her neck.

“We should practice patience,” he smirked again, as if it were a false promise they were both in on. “It is not even close to dinner,” he sighed. “But I want to lay here with you until then,” he added as his head moved down to hers, pressing another long kiss to her lips. He would lay there forever if he could. His gut twisted and his brow furrowed as he thought about the things that brought them together, the force keeping them together. It was the war, and some sick and selfish part of him wished for it to never end. For if the war ended it would complicate his relation to her, for now they could be nothing, so that he could imagine they were something, anything. No decisions needed to be made beyond the war.

*

Jon sat at a table in a large common room as his arrows laid out on the table. He was coating each tip with a paste and then dousing it in the concoction of wildfire power and paste he would later ignite in battle if needed. His eyes lifted seeing Bastain and Islea approach the table, both seemed to be in conversation and held papers within their hands. Jon assumed they were maps, or plans of strategy and intrigue to propose to both Kaira and Nikolai as well as the troops. Islea had been a mercenary in so many different small battles and wars, her strategic advantage was planning likely scenarios and what they should do in each case. They sat down across from him and Jon nodded, “Strategies?” He questioned.

Islea nodded, sliding him one of the papers she had. “Yes, we thought we could use your keen eye.” She replied to him. “You may not be a confirmed council member, but you are one of us Jon. Normally we work together, as a three. Beor would be happy to see your plans if he were here.” She said.

Jon couldn’t tell if she was sugar coating it. He knew all three Greenwall council members were unsure about Jon’s future. Eric wanted Jon to come home after the war, and Jon wanted to stay. He knew the advice they all would give him as well. Beor would tell him he should follow his duty, while Bastain would ask what he thought was right. Islea would tell him something honorable, but let him know the decision was truly up to him. He frowned just slightly, now wanting to leave his good mentors to distract himself. The living parts of Ironstone for merchants and commoners were fun he had heard. Perhaps a pint and a woman would ease his mind. Truly it would only postpone difficult thoughts. “Do either of you know where Nikolai Grimward is?” He asked them both.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira’s smile only widened as she felt his lips press so sweetly against her neck again, and when he lifted his head to look at her, she cupped his cheeks and ran her thumb over his lower lip. He kissed her again, but this time more slowly, taking in the dulcet moment before it was time to break away. She responded eagerly, her hand on his cheek tracing his jaw and coming to rest in the crook of his neck. She wished he could hold her there forever, to spend the rest of the war in the comfort of that beautiful room and look out the window to a garden covered in blankets of snow.

“Remember when you kissed me for the first time?” Kaira whispered against his lips. “When we slept together for the first time, and you rushed out the door the next morning.” Her fingers touched the marks on her neck for a moment as she recalled how he had checked for them. “I told myself I wouldn’t lay with you again. I was so angry you had left me even though I knew it was the rational way.”

She shot up briskly, propping herself in one hand pressed to the mattress right next to him. “I still haven’t forgiven you for leaving without a word last night.” With that, Kaira got off the bed and reached for her undergarments, then carefully began slipping them up her thighs with a faint smirk on her lips. He couldn’t see it, but her tone had given her away. There was no true anger, yet it still hurt knowing she would not get to wake another day with him by her side, or at least not in the near future.

“I have to tell Nikolai what I found,” she decided as she finally pulled her dress up and started tying the laces blindly at her back. “Maybe he can figure out if this is the enchantment that Leon used on my ring.”

*​

Looking down at Jon, Bastian felt pity for throwing him into the war. The boy was young, just as young as their Volur, but considerably more helpless from a close range. He was a glorious archer, but what could he do if Alastair’s army managed to get past the gates of Hunter’s Pass and breach the keep? He would have to fight with a sword, protect himself. He set his jaw as he listened to Islea talk; he would not discourage him, but he was tempted to suggest for him to back down if it came to that. He was more useful to them alive than dead.

His question about Kaira’s brother came suddenly, causing Bastian’s brows to furrow in confusion. Nikolai was not as patient as his sister. What serious business could Jon have with the man? “I believe he is tending to his leopard,” he said. “The animal’s recovering from a sickness, I heard. It was given the same medicine they gave to poor Felix after the attack.” He turned his head slightly. “I hope you are not looking for trouble again. He must already be tense that we are not doing what we promised.” Meeting Matias - wherever he was - would have to wait until the battle, and Bastian had no intention of stifling his curiosity of whether Nikolai would help them or not.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel remembered, he nodded slowly. He recalled how lustful it had been that first time. He kissed her with such hunger, it wasn’t too different from how he kissed her now. Although he knew there was more that lay beneath for himself anyway. Her fingers played over his cheeks, his jaw, even his lip before moving to her own neck. He was curious to learn she was so furious with him for leaving the first time. He had felt such a desire to stay even then.

She shot up and his brow furrowed, his hand pressing over hers in an attempt to grab her, but it was too late, she was up. He could not help but to smile at her words. “Perhaps I did tell you, but you had fallen asleep so quickly after our activity,” he replied back easily. She was right, he hadn’t said anything, and he had known the entire time. But it was nice to be able to tease her, he wondered if she knew all he wanted was to stay the night with her. Regardless, she knew his duty, and so she could never truly be that upset with him. Elisif’s words echoed within his head, rumors were spread easily and quickly, and he knew their council was already suspicious. In speaking with his own advisors, they were skeptical of Kyel’s change of heart. He could keep repeating it was for the North, but where was the line? His hate had left him, and if it were for the North, his hate would still reside within.

Kyel stood up then, watching he begin tying the back of her dress. “Let me,” he muttered stepping forward as he began tying the laces at her back. He worked quickly, and carefully soon finished with the strings. “There,” his hand lifted to her neck, pressing lightly against the larger mark he had now left beside the smaller of last night. He moved her hair over her shoulder slightly, trying to help hide the mark. He wanted to see her again tonight, he wanted to tell her she would find him back here after dinner, but tomorrow they would prep to leave for Hunter’s Pass, and the day after they would leave. Both of them would be busy and his other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her back against him as he pressed his face down into her hair, every ounce of his being wanted to tell her, instead he turned her around to face him and kissed her lips deeply. Upon parting them his icy blue eyes looked into hers, “I’ll be in the library.” he said to her finally, and his hands pulled from her body to let her leave as he began to dress himself.

*

Jon listened carefully to Bastian. If Nikolai was tending to his Leopard, he would likely be in his room, a few doors down from the one Jon was given. He offered Bastian a little smirk in return of his small accusation Jon was looking for trouble, a fair enough guess, when was he not? “Thank you, Ser,” Jon smiled standing up to busy himself down the hall and up some stairs to the long hall where Nikolai’s room and his own were.

He paced slightly before the man’s door. Debating whether to knock and if he did knock, what the hell would he be saying? Asking if he enjoyed his travels and life of mercenary work could be discussed over dinner. If he recommended it were a different story. And how well traveled was he? Did he see the whole of their land? Or did he only play along because the Rat found him as a child and it was all he ever knew. He stopped, lifted his hand to knock on the older Volur’s door when he heard footsteps.

Jon’s head whipped around only to see the man’s sister approaching. The perplexed look on Jon’s features quickly changed to a wicked grin and he bowed slightly. “Miss Grimward,” he spoke in a teasing tone. His brows lifted, glancing to her neck for a brief moment, so brief he didn’t know if Kaira would notice, perhaps his smirk would give that away though, “I was just leaving, but you have fun in there with big brother,” he stepped forward then, Jon’s hand moving to her hair positioning it forward slightly, “Tell him below the neckline next time. Surely he has enough self control for that, mhmm?” Jon whispered close to her ear. He stepped backwards and nodded again, “Good evening Miss Grimward,” he set his hands behind his back before moving off.

*

When Kyel entered the library he found the only woman he could expect to be there. When Kyel’s stepped echoed through the room she turned to see who it was, and when she noticed it was him, her eyes widened and she stood quickly. “Lord Skovgaard,” she began.

Kyel waved his hand, “No need.” He commented, his discussion with Elisif rising to the forefront of his mind once again. Adrielle was an opportunity, should his heart not be allowed to follow its own path. “I should be the one bowing to you, right? Whenever I enter a room with books it is your domain, no?” He commented easily.

Adrielle smiled, blushing in the dark light of the library, illuminated only by the candles within the room. “I suppose so. Do help yourself to the wine.” She said pointing to a rather large pitcher nearly half empty. “I could say it was to help with the reading, but seeing you all off again so soon has led me to drink.”

“We needn’t speak of the Pass.” Kyel informed her lightly. He had no interest in speaking with her at all, but he pushed a smile forward on his lips. “You’ve likely read more than anyone I know.” He told her. “What are your favorite subjects?”

“Oh,” Adrielle said, “History and literature. Very fortunate, there is no end to books on those topics.”

“I’ve never had any great passion for history,” Kyel stated.

“Really?” Adrielle wondered. “Why not do you think?”

Kyel wondered if his distaste for History had to do had to do with his lack of enthusiasm surrounding tradition. No. That was only a recent occurrence, but Kyel had never been fond of the traditions his father shoved upon him anyway. Perhaps it stemmed from there. Perhaps it was the arrogance from when he read of it he thought had he been there he could have changed its course. “No reason really. Just didn’t like it I suppose.”

She thought about asking him of his favorite subjects, but a more pressing question plagued her mind. “Do you think of the future Lord Skovgaard? After the war I mean.” She asked.

“I must.” He replied simply.

“Do you think of your House’s future?” She clarified.

His brow lifted at her then, “I must,” he said again.

“It is no secret you are due to court Kyel,” Adrielle switched to using his first name.

“I know.” He said, trying not to snap at the woman. He knew her forwardness, and it was warranted, Kyel had spoken to her and danced with her. He’d made nods, and now Elisif had told him she was fine enough to marry and she was. She was young, beautiful and very intelligent.

“Do you wish for children?” she asked, noticing his stiffness and trying to take a lighter turn.

“ I will need at least one.” Kyel said with a small frown, he knew she wanted to speak in a giddy manner, he wondered if she imagined herself in that way with him already. To Adrielle’s knowledge she was the only woman Kyel even took a second glance at in that sense. It was a good ploy, considering his coldness, but even he knew the fact of the matter was unfair.

“I cannot imagine having only one child myself,” Adrielle commented.

“Sometimes,” Kyel spoke in a dry voice,” one had little choice in the matter.”

Adrielle’s cheeks turned an immediate red, “Oh, I’m so sorry,” She stammered. “I’d forgotten, your mother and sibling,” she spoke quietly.

“She’s been dead for over fifteen years,” he spoke distantly. “And I never knew the child.” he added, “I was so young, I had little to mourn.”

Adrielle watched his blue eyes, which were strangely hollow and shuttered. Adrielle knew somehow his words were false, and she also could tell at the same time be believed his own words fully. She wondered what could have happened? Why had he lied to himself for so many years? Adrielle’s head tilted up slightly, studying his face. The candlelight in the room brought color to his cheeks, and his dark hair was ruffled slightly. He looked rather uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Everyone here speaks very highly of you Kyel.” He decided to change the subject. “Of your father and grandfather as well,” She began. “Many men come to this room. I’ve never seen a library with such use other than ours. I enjoy it.” She smiled. “An older man spoke to me for a while actually, I cannot recall his name, another Lord I think.” She said, “he claimed to have been good friends with your father..” Kyel’s features went tight as Adriella continued “He went on about how good of a Lord your father was. I had no idea you Northern Lord’s look out for one another so much.” She said with a little laugh. “I suppose no one wants the North looking incompetent,” She smiled. Kyel said nothing. “Do you know, I’ve never heard you mention your father actually.” Adrielle said. “Not privately and not in council either.” She noted.

“That is because I do not choose to discuss him.” Kyel spoke darkly.

“Is something wrong?” Adrielle asked.

“Not at all.” He said in a clipped voice.

“Oh,” Adrielle chewed slightly on her lower lip, unable to read him. “I won’t mention it then.” She said.

“I said there is nothing wrong.” Kyel repeated.

“Of course.” Adrielle replied with an impassive expression. There was a long uncomfortable pause of silence, and finally Adrielle stepped forward, “Well I need some air. I am going to go fetch some, and admire the winter roses. I’ll leave you to your black mood.” She commented. She turned to leave and she felt a heavy hand on her arm. It traveled up her arm to her elbow.

Kyel’s eyes were cold as the ice inside of them, and the war within his head was raging. He did not want to follow Adrielle outside, or show her the roses or entertain her questions about children and his father. But he had to play along, and he had to pretend even if for a few brief moments he was trying to court Adrielle. Or at the very least had intentions to when this war was over. “Adrielle, please. Turn around.” He said.

Adrielle turned, his voice was low, and there was an intensity from him that she hadn’t heard before.

“Please accept my apologies,” Kyel said.

Adielle stepped forward, her fingers reaching around his forearm, “Come Lord Skovgaard. Let us get some air and admire the winter roses.” She said easily, Adrielle leading him towards the library terrace doors to the outside overlook of the garden.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira left Kyel’s room in a haste; she knew if she lingered for longer, she would be more tempted to stay in bed with him. Half of the day had already gone by and the more time passed, the more real that day’s news felt. She would soon be thrown into another battle, and this time around she would not have Leon on her side, watching her back. Instead, she was burdened with the lives of thousands of men, and scarily enough, what terrified her more than the prospect of losing the battle was losing a man who had once been her enemy.

Down the hallway, she found a young servant girl whom she asked about Nikolai’s room. The girl guided her with a couple of nervous gestures before scurrying off with an empty tray in her hands, and Kaira followed her instructions only a few doors down the corridor. She did not seem to be the only one wishing to see her brother, it seemed; Jon had propped himself before the door, with his fist lifted, ready to knock, but jolted and turned away at the sight of her.

For a moment, Kaira parted her lips to greet him, but the expression etched on his face left her mute. She watched him approach slowly, his lips curled into a smirk, and her eyes narrowed as he reached to touch her hair. The marks. Kaira closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Thank you for your concern, Jon,” she said sharply, before zooming past him, brushing her shoulder against his. He was right, yet she could not help but resent him for pointing it out. Did it bring him joy to tease her? Had he known of Kyel’s interest in her before, and were the marks a mere confirmation? She had no dresses that covered the neck, or anything that was not particularly revealing. Before she knocked on Nikolai’s door, she ran her fingers through her hair to hide as much of her neck as possible, and prayed he would not be quite as sharp-eyed as the younger Pelletier.

After knocking, Kaira let herself inside and her eyes immediately fell on Nikolai’s dark form, kneeling down before a lump of white fluff, holding out some cut meat for the animal to nibble at. “Nikolai,” she murmured, but he did not turn. Instead, he gestured for her to sit on the bed absentmindedly. Once the animal was done with the food, he wrapped the rest in a towel and set it on the table by the fireplace.

“What’s wrong with it?” Kaira asked.

Nikolai got up and wiped his hands on his trousers. “I got her from an exotic merchant who sold pelt,” he shrugged. “He came to us for help dealing with some debt collector. He was holding it in a cage and had an infected wound on its hind leg. My price for the job was the live leopard.” He crossed his arms as he looked down at her. “I suppose you found something, then?”

Kaira nodded quickly and she slipped the ring from her finger. “This is what we were talking about at the council,” she explained as Nikolai came to sit on the bed next to her. So close, she could smell the sea in his hair, and a hint of leather that reminded her of their father’s old boots. “Leon gave it to me when I was little. When I was captured at Greenwall, everyone likely assumed me dead, or so I had thought.” She dropped it into his palm and watched him turn it to analyse the finer details. “A few days later, I accompanied the Greenwall council to Elvgard to inspect Lord Kaelan’s strange death. He had been killed by poison, in the ink used to write a letter from the King.”

Nikolai looked up to her and frowned. “A curse.”

“Mm,” Kaira nodded. He set the ring back in her palm and she quickly slipped it back on her finger. “When I read the letter, I discovered a message Leon had left for me. A verse, riddle of sorts. He told me, in his own way, that he wanted me to stay on the other side of the war if I so wished.”

“Then he’s not quite as evil as I thought.”

“No,” Kaira shook her head. “He swore himself to Alastair because he believed he could sway him, change his ways. When he realized there was no going back, it was too late.”

“So you believe he knew how to find you thanks to that ring?” Nikolai cocked his brow.

“Yes. And he also used it to let Alastair into my head, though I assume for a different purpose.” As if anticipating his next question, Kaira continued. “A sworn Volur has to do as they are asked. The only way they can avoid it is to merely delay the inevitable, or purposefully make a mistake, like delaying until you miss your chance, or the enemy takes advantage of theirs.”

Nikolai chewed on his inner cheek as he listened. He was torn, Kaira could see it on his face, and frankly, she was as well. On the one hand, Leon had been like a father to her, and she was inclined to believe he saw her as his own daughter; on the other hand, she could not expect him to do the impossible for her, regardless of how much affection he might carry for her or not. “This is why I insisted on wearing it despite the incident at Riftmere,” Kaira continued then. “I looked through a tome that mentioned a spell called Kun Sanctum…”

“Spirit Knot,” Nikolai translated. “I know of it. The Rat asked me to use it for one of his heists, ensure communication with his partner. I explained it did not go quite that way, so he dropped the idea.”

“How do you know of it?” Kaira’s brows furrowed in confusion, and Nikolai shrugged.

“I have had a plentiful life, sister,” he smirked slightly. “But yes, that is the only spell I know of that would work in this situation. And, from my knowledge, it goes both ways.” He cocked his brow again.

“I never knew of it until recently.” She twisted the ring around her finger. “I thought it was just a heartfelt gift, nothing more. I know Leon wore a couple of rings, but I never knew he had the matching pair.”

“That means two things. One, he did not expect he would need to use it, and two, he did not want you to tap into this power. There is a downside to a spell like this.”

Kaira lowered her gaze. “I know,” she sighed. “It eats you from the inside. Killer on the battlefield, if you’re fighting with someone you love.” Her eyes lifted, but Nikolai’s gaze remained low, fixated on the now exposed skin as her hair moved. They stayed there for a long moment, until Kaira realized, and she quickly ran her hands through her dark hair, helplessly now. She clenched her jaw and shot up briskly. “I should tell the others what I found, as well.”

“Mm.” Nikolai’s eyes were dark as he looked at her. “I hope you won’t think of using it, too.”

“I won’t.” Kaira said quickly, but frankly, she was unsure. The only reason she was on the fence about it was that she did not want Kyel to know of her in the battlefield, as well.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel followed with her out to the small terrace nearby the garden. He had enough of talk, his mind longing for the sweet pleasure he found in Kaira’s presence rather than Adrielle’s. Once on the terrace, he looked up into the sky, a half-moon silvered the leaves of the winter flowers and berries that grew there. The moonlight shone on the surface of the patches of stone covered in ice rather than snow, it reminded him of Kaira’s cheeks looked within the moonlight at night, after being with her. It was peaceful here, even beside Adrielle, even while his chest longed for another. Was this a sign in of itself? That should he need to, he could find something with Adrielle?

“Are you afraid to lose the Pass?” Adrielle asked, breaking the silence.

Kyel was shocked, he was expecting her to compliment the berries that could withstand growing in the snow or comment on the moonlight. “It would be horrible to lose any part of the North. Especially to Alastair.” Kyel spoke darkly.

“Yes, I can only imagine. I was shocked really. Most Northern houses, especially those by the border of Wendlyn and Windhold and even the coast have enough defenses to hold off numerous armies for at least half a year, maybe more.” Adrielle commented.

She knew more than she let on, and Kyel simply nodded. “Hunter’s Pass has always been a bridge for travelers, especially hunters, given the name,” he said. He was well aware Adrielle already knew this, “They are small, but they are important. And one of our most known Houses as well.” He huffed a bit, “I shouldn’t be troubling you with such grim and bloody talk of the upcoming battle.” He decided then.

Now Adrielle rolled her eyes, “Oh please. I am not afraid.”

“You should be.” Kyel kept his gaze forward. “We are not safe.”

“I am not afraid.” Adrielle repeated.

“I am.” Kyel said, turning to look at her. “Against Alastair, we have little power.”

Adrielle watched the large man before her. His eyes were serious, and he was speaking truly. It was almost frightening in of itself to see a man like Lord Skovgaard admit his true fear. “Kyel,” she spoke, moving her hand from his up to his cheek. The man tensed under her touch, and she saw his gaze only grow more serious. He was too tall for her to lean up truly to kiss him, but she lifted slightly anyway, hoping he would return the gesture. “You have me.” She told him.

His jaw tensed harshly, and he moved her hand from his cheek. “I do not have you.” Kyel told her, letting his hand squeeze hers a moment. “I need to focus on this war, on the North and on the people I love,” he muttered as his gaze was already becoming distant. “It’s not the time Adrielle.” Kyel said to her. “I must bid you a good evening.” he added more quickly and escorted her back inside to where he found her. He bent over, taking her hand and kissing gently, “Goodnight Lady Sadelyn.” He said.

*

Kyel returned to Kaira’s room in a fit of tense and bottled rage. He had intended to see Felix before bed, but the wounded dog should not bear witness to his frustrations. Kaira still was not in the room, and Kyel knocked over one of the candle holders and a vase off the desk across her room in an attempt to release some of his pent up anger.

He disrobed down to his undergarments and began making a fire. Even though he was sweltering, he knew she would likely be cold. After finishing with the fire he plucked up one of the books and laid back on the bed. He opened the book to the page she had been looking at before, the Spirit Knot. He couldn’t pick out all the words. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. His practice with the old tongue had waned over time, he could only pick out the words she had already told him, lovers, bond, connection. He slammed the book shut in deep frustration.

*

“Come now brother, I am not allowed at council. Tell me.” A young red haired woman spoke to her brother, Lord Rand as she sat on his floor petting a cooing wolf of a dog. She smiled, “Good boy, Felix.” She whispered softly.

“What is there to know that is not already known, Fiadh ?” Lord Rand asked the woman with the same fiery hair color as his. Her hair held an exceptional length, and due to that her curls were more pronounced. She was tall like her brother, and her features quite slender for a woman of the North. She still held an elegant athleticism to her from years of dancing and practicing grace she often ignored.

“You are such a bore, Connaugh,” She commented with a small grin upon her lips. She leaned down against Felix, pressing her head right beside the canines, “Come onnnnn, Felix has heard none of it.” she protested with a false pout, “Should you be so shallow as to deny him the right of knowing his master’s council? He is usually in attendance after all,” she looked down and pressed a long kiss to Felix’s head.

“There is to be a battle at Hunter’s Pass.” Rand said rolling his eyes, but was unable to hide his grin.

“By the gods Connaugh, I know that, everyone does. Tell me about the Volur?” She asked, sitting up a bit more. “I heard the male one is handsome. I overheard some servant girls-” Fiadh began.

“You are not to speak to either Volur, do you understand?” Rand’s entire demeanor grew more intense.

Fiadh rolled her own eyes then, “I will speak to whomever I wish. Besides, knowing a Volur could be beneficial,” she spoke as if reminding her brother.

“Why is that?” Rand asked tightly, although his head turned, interested in his sister’s proposal.

“Knowledge is power, brother.” she pointed out to him, “Oh please, I am not spoken for. It is not so outlandish I should speak to a handsome man.”

“No, but you should be spoken for.” He was reminding her then.

“You and father always hoped I would catch Kyel’s eyes. What fools you were. The only way I could have caught his eye is if I had a betrothed:” Fiadh said easily. “Speaking of which,” the girl grinned then, “How is Elisif? How far along is she?”

“I don’t know.” Rand scratched the back of his head.

Fiadh sighed heavily, but her lips still help a light simper, “Ah, Felix, what am I to do? My brother is so worried about my honor, when he cannot even be so honorable to display even an ounce of tact.” She ruffled behind Felix’s ears.

 

[peritwinkle]

From the way Nikolai looked at her, Kaira could not tell whether he was disappointed or judgemental. His eyes seemed to always be dark and brooding, as if compiling some scheme in his head at all times, and his lips were ever pressed into a fine line. She took a few steps towards the door before stopping, turning around and facing him again with an expression of wonder. “Will you take part in the battle at Hunter’s Pass?” she found herself asking then. Part of her needed to know if he had accepted the heist for her sake, and if he would be helping them as her brother and not merely a hired mercenary.

“Do I have a choice?” Nikolai’s brow lifted. “I lost you once, Kaira. I don’t intend on losing you again. The business with Matias can wait.”

“You will not lose me,” she pointed out. “I have been trained all my life for battles like this. I am a weapon, Nikolai.”

“I have seen you fight.” He shrugged. “Dangerous, yes. But what you tapped into is dark sorcery, Kaira, and that sort of thing is deadly if you can’t control it.” He took a step forward, looking down at her. “No Volur should be able to kill like that. Fire, yes… Poison too. Gust of wind, a push down a cliff. But what you did, I have never seen anyone do before.”

Kaira froze for a moment, staring at him. She had been trained to kill since she was just seven years old, but she had never seen Leon do the same. He specialized on defense and crowd control - most efficient in a battle setting - while Alastair had turned her towards much more specific curses, fed her the information he desired and molded her the way he wished. Was this why everyone else feared her more than Leon?

“Then I want you to teach me how to do it without passing out,” she murmured.

Nikolai shook his head. “That is only something you can control.”

“You’ve been a Volur longer than me.”

“I’ve also not received the same training as you have.”

Kaira bit her lower lip. Nikolai was strong, she had seen him use magic to protect her, but when it had come to killing, he had still opted for his blade. There was so little she knew about him, that he felt more like a stranger than a brother in her eyes. Only three years of her life had she spent with him, out of which she only recalled fragments of her childhood, yet she knew at least he remembered her well, the little lump that walked around prancing and played with the flowers in their mother’s garden. She wondered if he was disappointed in what she had become.

*​

Kaira rose early the next morning, to an empty bed and a cold room that urged her out of the sheets. She had grown used to Kyel leaving, and albeit it hurt, perhaps it was for the best. The other night, she had smelled another woman’s scent on his clothes, but had chosen to stay silent. Adrielle Sadelyn was a perfect match, and when the war ended, be it with their doom or victory, she would have to let Kyel go. ‘I am just a distraction,’ she reminded herself each time he kissed her. ‘I do not love him, nor does he love me. I am a free woman, and will always be free.’

That day, she donned the thicker black cloak with fur around the collar and walked out to meet the brisk morning air of the castle yard. Tokesten was already outside, leaning over a map placed over a tall log, talking to one of his soldiers. When he saw her, he straightened his back and offered her a cordial smile. “My men have been waiting,” he said. “Will the Lords not attend?”

“I hope they do,” Kaira said. “I want to be heard loud and clear.”

Gavriel guided her towards the outskirts of the fort and outside into the plains surrounding Ironstone, where his men quickly gathered into formation. They were numerous, but Kaira did not know if the numbers were enough to defend against what Alastair brought. Tokesten stepped out in front of her and called for attention, which was given without so much as a whisper of protest; then, he gestured her forward and stepped aside, and Kaira took her position of command.

“As you know, we will be defending Hunter’s Pass,” she began, pacing slowly as her cape flowed behind her. The wind was harsh, stinging her eyes and burning her cheeks. “Which means we will have the advantage of laying down the rules of the field. From the moment we spot the King’s men, I will have a time margin to lay a trap, give us a head start which his Volur will not be able to do anything about. In order for that to go smoothly, and to avoid too many casualties, I will ask two things of you.”

Her voice boomed loudly over the field and echoed through the forest at the bottom of the hill. Albeit shorter, Kaira Grimward seemed to tower over them all, and the men listened like frightened squires before their Queen. “I will begin in the middle of the battlefield, where the parties with clash. The curse I plan on using is a kind of poisoned smoke, triggered by pressure. It kills, but lasts mere seconds in the air, which means the first to step on it is the one to undergo its full effect. At my call, you will emerge towards me, and I will run towards you, so I can reach the rearguard before the fighting commences. You fail to do that, and they might put an arrow through me before I reach you. And while that might sound ideal to you, I remind you that you will be faced against a Volur equally as dangerous, and as much as you despise me… You need me if you wish to see your families again.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tokesten look at her with unrest, his hands tied behind his back nervously. If they did not listen to her, then they would, at the very least, listen to him. She needed to reach safety in time and delay fighting as much as she could before she was forced to go in herself.

“Second,” she continued, “You will not go for the Volur under any circumstance. Your duty is to fight the King’s men and defend Hunter’s Pass, while my duty is to defend you from magic. Do not underestimate Leon. He is a better swordsman than many of you, and if you do survive him, I assure you that you will not survive me afterwards.” Her eyes darkened. “I hope I made myself very clear.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel moved outside with Bastian, Islea and Jon, he saw Lenda and Adrielle had gathered as well, it seemed as though the Rands had joined and invited Elisif along with them. His eyes did not leave her as he watched Tokesten guide her to the troops who had gathered to hear her speak. Her cloak was thick and dark, her hair done neatly unlike how he had left it that morning. She looked regal before those men, like it was her army.

She walked before them as if she had spoken to these men thousands of times before. She was loud and certain, no one grunted or snorted or treated her how they spoke of the Volur. Her words were convincing even if no one appeared to need it. Kyel closed his eyes a moment, just listening to the command in her tone, the intensity within that voice, she was meant for this. She was meant to lead them. Her requests were simple and clear, and Kyel thought them merely a warning, should they disobey they would die. It wasn’t a choice they needed to play, she was reminding them to be smart.

*

The ride to the pass was long, and they did not stop. Tokesten’s advice to arrive early and rest before was intelligent and everyone agreed. The air was rough and choppy, the wind speed was high and inconsistent, the archers would suffer. The color of the sky informed Jon that perhaps freezing rain may fall during this battle. Still the archers Jon had met from the army were strong, and determined, and he took pride in leading them as he walked across the top of the stone wall just outside the small castle paired with the Pass. In the distance, a fair echo, which was hard to determine the true distance because of the wind, warhorns boomed.

He watched down at the scene before him, soldiers and crewmen ran about attending to last minute tasks they were given. Many were already taking their stance in line and readying themselves. It was hard to tell the method, he knew Tokesten’s set up would work, but in the midst of the scramble to ready themselves, everyone looked as though they always seemed to be in the way of another no matter where they stood. Still, he could hear soldiers shouting encouragement and chants to each other across the field. The men, while likely afraid, were eager to get at their foe, and Jon was shocked at the sound of confidence from the men.

He watched Kyel and Tokesten finalize the troops. There were ten different sections of men it seemed, all surrounding the pass and ready to defend it.

From his high point Jon could see shadows waving in the foggy horizon, it could have been a trick of the light. But soon word came that Alastair’s army was approaching. The walls of the pass were hardly that, it was a city built for trade, an abundance of travelers. There was hardly any sense of a fortress about it other than the main castle. From his perch he saw Lord Skovgaard approaching Kaira at the front of their battle sequence, he wondered what the man was speaking to her, or better, what she would speak to him.

Kyel approached Kaira with a strong stride. He was no more than a Northern Lord discussing battle plans with their fearless leader. “You are ready.” Was all Kyel said, “Keep your elbow up if you need to use your sword,” he began, he was breathing heavily. “I will be on the left flank, Tokesten the right. The others will be based by the castle, keeping it secure.” His body turned to her slightly, his eyes finally meeting hers with an intense gaze, he was pleading with her then, “Be careful Kaira,” his deep voice wavered only for a moment.

 

[peritwinkle]

The Pass was regarded as the gateway to the North, and yet Kaira deemed it everything but welcoming. The walls of the stronghold stood tall and dark, absorbing every ray of light that might cheer up the gloomy field surrounding it. It was no wonder that Alastair would go for it first; out of the entire North, Hunter’s Pass held the symbol for its integrity, along with Ironstone, but the latter was much less achievable. In order to reach it, he would have to cut through the armies of every House under Lord Skovgaard, and then, weakened as he would be, survive an attack on the most secure stronghold in all of Valera.

Their army had spread out around the South-Eastern wall of the stronghold, under Tokesten’s command. She was the only one standing in the vanguard; Ser Bastian and Islea would fight farther back towards the castle, and Jon would be commanding the archers. Seeing the emptiness lie before her felt surreal. The air was brisk, filtering through the fur of her cape and scourging her cheeks. She was not wearing armour, but the ordinary Volur style of clothing - dark leather coat, thick trousers and a belt with a sheath by her hip, in case things got physical. She still had her own from the battle of Greenwall, untouched, unused, and ready to suck the life out of the first piece of flesh it penetrated. She was exposed, but the lightness of her garments offered a safety in itself - it kept her quick, agile and untouchable.

A dark shadow obscured her peripheral view as she looked into the horizon. Kyel’s voice was low and alert, and although he held himself composed, Kaira could hear a certain faltering in his tone. He was not merely stating his position - it was a promise. ‘I am close. If it all goes wrong, you’ll know where to find me.’ Kaira’s eyes narrowed and she offered him a cold nod. “I will see you after the battle, Lord Skovgaard,” she dismissed him, then took a step forward into the open, away from the aura of his protection.

Time seemed to pass too slowly. With every breath of the wind, Kaira took a breath herself and counted the seconds. The scouts of Hunter’s Pass had seen Alastair’s army coming, which meant they could not be too far away. Another breath, another moment. She prayed that Tokesten’s men would not back down from their plan. If they were not fast enough to surround her and lift their shields, the enemy would take no chances to pierce her with a rain of arrows. Their shields would only deflect so much, and with Leon’s boost, she would have to find her position quickly and protect them. Her nails dug nervously into her palm. Another gust of wind, another breath. Then, she began walking, looking back every now and then to make sure there was enough distance between her and the army, but little enough for her to run back halfway when the time came. Once she reached the middle of the field, Kaira crouched and placed her palms into the hoary grass.

“Sollum... Draer meg venum.” The earth beneath her vibrated, as if stirred alive; she could feel the rumbling of every living green, of the grass and moss, of the critters slithering beneath the soil and of the thicket at the edge of the field. “Sollum, draer meg venum.” Her voice was quiet, lost with the wind; the ground rustled, and as she lifted her hands away, a horn echoed into the sky, booming like a thunder, followed by the rumbling sound of hooves hitting against the mud.

“COVER ME!” Kaira shouted and turned, running towards safety behind her. The army moved towards her, their shields lifted, both cutting the distance rather quickly. Her cape weighed heavy on her shoulders; she was a dark boulder in the distance, an easy target to strike. Arrows now whistled by her ear, catching her up from behind, and before she knew it, she was engulfed by a black wave of flesh and steel.

She was safe. Kaira let out a breath as the fight commenced, before cutting through the crowd and heading towards the rear guard. Up on the walls of the fort, she could see Jon right by the ledge, firing his own arrows. There was no going back, no chance of reaching him or Kyel if they needed her help. She quickly found an area risen higher above, closer to the walls, that offered a good view of the battle below. It was black against silver and blue, Windhold against the North, but not Alastair against its Lord. At the front of his army, she could see General Kaldvar, with a piece of red silk wrapped around his wrist to symbolize the King’s presence in spirit. Behind them all, surrounded by a handful of brutes, stood the only man she had expected to see, and he seemed to have seen her as well. Kaira twisted the ring around her fingers as she watched him. He was too far away, but she hoped he would intuit the gesture. It was the moment of truth - would he protect her, or fight against her under Alastair’s orders?