Fantasy - Wildfire - [CLOSED]

[pointmango]

Her words had slapped him harshly against the face as he now stood by his troops and watched the approaching army. All he received was a false promise after the battle. His jaw clenched seeing her step forward among the flanks, she knelt. Then she rose, yelling for cover and the men moved. She moved back just as the plan had stated, and he could only believe she had made it to her safe point.

Kyel drew his sword and yelled forward leading the charge with the men. Men at arms swept into one another in a scream of steel tide, the first line had been transformed into a confusion of separate struggles. The chaos ahead was clear as men were already hacking at each other with swords. He did not know if Kaira’s plan had worked from the front lines, for he was flanked on the edge and it seemed whatever power she had released missed these men. Men fell around him, and Kyel stood over one dead body of a knight he once knew. Someone caught at him with an axe, but he dodged the blow moving to the side slightly. His own greatsword lifted, taking the man’s life with one simple jab.

He heard short sharp woofs further in the distance. He could not tell which side was throwing the large flaming rocks. He could not see catapults in the distance, but the fogged weather made it impossible for Kyel to make up much ground. His jaw tightened and he knew Alastair was not in the crowd. He was a coward. Do you hear them shrieking, Alastair? Do you see men being cut down and berated like pigs for slaughter? This is your work as much as mine.

*

Jon was motionless as a gargoyle as he stood at his perch, his archers were working, shooting. High and out, some lifting fire onto their arrows, others letting them fly. He stood watching the array of men, the armies were mixing, and the air was full of fog, smoke, arrows and screams.

In the distance, Jon heard a great crash, they couldn’t be at the walls of the pass? No. But they had some sort of force pressing them forward. He moved from his perch, pulling his own bow, looking among the distance for men with more expensive armor, and perhaps sigils or signs of officers. He spotted one close enough, lifting his bow and an arrow in his hand. With his release he watched his arrow soar and strike right through the eye of the man he intended to shoot.

*

The torches shimmered brightly against the hammered metal of the wall scones, filling the council room with silvery light. Yet there was still a darkness in the hall. Faidh could see it in the eyes of Kyel’s uncle who stayed behind while the rest had left for battle. Every so often words would come by raven. They received the first, which is why they had gathered. She sat with Elisif, Adrielle and Lenda, the first stating they had arrived at the pass. And the next, and most recent was that the battle had begun, which judging by the change in time as the raven flew, the battle had been going for hours.

“What are you reading?” Faidh finally asked the woman he had come to learn as Lady Adrielle Sadelyn. Rumors were floating that she and Kyel were in some sort of odd state of courting. She was beautiful, but Faidh did not see her appeal, especially compared to Kyel’s former interest in Elisif, or any of the other Lords wives and daughters he fooled around with.

“When they return, we will move from here eventually. Further, to build ships. I would like to be prepared.” Adrielle informed the red haired woman.

Faidh scoffed, “And if they don’t?” She asked.

“An awful way to speak.” Lenda seemed to be correcting the younger woman.

“Well, it would be a waste-” Faidh began.

“What do you suggest I do instead?” Adrielle asked.

This time no one really spoke. Finally Faidh groaned, “I wish we did not have to sit here. Perhaps Islea had the best idea of all of us.” the redhead leaned back in the chair. Then she sighed again, “Elisif, have you picked out names?” She wondered then.

 

[peritwinkle]

A thick, dark smoke rose from the earth as their troops advanced towards Hunter’s Pass, followed by a sizzling noise, then by the sound of swords and armor clinking against the ground. Their first line had fallen, and were quickly engulfed by the clashing armies as the battle commenced. Leon’s eyes scoured the horizon - no sign of a Volur, just a trail of death left behind a very carefully planned defense tactic.

“What was that?” a voice boomed from behind him. “Why did they fall, Volur?!”

“Poison,” Leon shrugged simply at the bruiser assigned with watching him.

“Did you not anticipate that?”

“Do I look like a Seer to you?”

The man narrowed his eyes and turned to the archers behind him. He lifted his arm, one finger high signalling the draw, and their arrows lit up seemingly out of thin air. He lifted a second finger, and the arrows fired, his arm following their line towards the fortress. They pierced through the air with loud whistles and fell into the enemy beneath in sharp, charged blows that pierced right through their armour. Leon watched them fall, then their own troops advancing a few steps into the enemy’s army. By this time, they were already mingled enough to not allow for any fire, which meant his next moves would require precision.

It was only then that he saw her, rising from the crowd beneath in a black cape, a dark statue towering over the North’s army. Leon’s chest clenched and his jaw tightened. He had left her at Greenwall but a girl and found her as a true Volur, fearless, full of vengeance. He wondered if she despised him for fighting against her, or if she knew disloyalty was no longer an option for him. ‘Don’t be a fool, girl,’ he thought to himself. So long as she stayed away from the heart of the fight, he could shelter her, make sure their soldiers could not reach her. Alastair had given him orders against the enemy’s men, not her, but if she got in the way…

“Archers!” Leon called, and his arm rose into the air again. Their arrows lit up, and at his signal, the second round launched into the smoky air.

*​

The sky rained arrows lit ablaze that pierced through their men’s breastplates and out their backs like crossbow bolts. Kaira’s eyes combed through the mass for the source and immediately fell on the line of archers behind Leon. He had used magic on them. Her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched as she saw him lift his arm again to command, and as the arrows rose into the sky, Kaira’s arms followed suit, her fingers touching into a symbol and then spreading, and with her gesture the dark shroud in the air broke apart; sparks scattered into the air and the flames died down before the arrows fell limp on the ground below.

“Is that him?” Nikolai appeared from behind her, one of his hands floating about the hilt of his sword. “Your old master?”

“Mm,” Kaira nodded.

“Quite rude of him, then.”

Before she could respond, he had already disappeared from her line of sight. Kaira watched as their men clashed against the King’s, her mind worked relentlessly to figure out a way to sieve through them without too much collateral damage. She let out a soft breath through her nose, closing her eyes; she could hear every sword, every step, every racing heartbeat of the men around her. If she left her spot, she might not be able to defend against Leon’s attacks, but she could not stay idle, or risk dealing more damage to her allies than the enemy through a more aggressive spell. With a sharp movement, she undid the clasp of her cape and let it fall to her feet, before throwing herself into the sea of steel.

Every movement that followed was a blur. Kaira slithered through and fixated each of her targets without faltering. She drew her sword, and the first one she cut from behind fell quickly. As she turned, another’s axe was accelerating towards her head. She dodged it quickly and turned, grabbing the man by his neck and immobilizing him to his knees just enough for an ally’s blade to carve into his gut. A group of soldiers dressed in black and red were surrounding two squires; one of the boys fell before she could reach them, but at the sight of her, the other fell back, and Kaira cut through their ranks and fell to her knees right in the middle of them as a gust of wind pushed them back; one of them fell into a dead man’s sword, another fell right on his neck. The other two stumbled for just enough time to be cut down by a familiar sword.

“What are you doing here?” Tokesten growled breathlessly at her. “You were supposed to defend! If they get their hands on you-”

“I am defending,” Kaira shouted back. “But I can’t stay idle in the meantime.”

“Nikolai was assigned to fight, you were supposed to-”

Gavriel plowed into the ground and a boot pinned him down harshly. Before the man’s weapon could reach him, Kaira moved her hands and swung it right out of his arms. The man stumbled back and Gavriel turned and kicked him in the groin, then quickly jumped back to his feet and dug a sword into his neck.

“Mind your own fucking fighting,” Kaira hissed at him, then vanished back into the heart of the battle.

*​

Elisif had been standing idle, analysing a large tapestry hung on the wall of the council room. The other women’s voices has flown by her ears as empty words; her mind was too muddled to care for whatever trivial matter they were discussing. All she could think of was the battle, how she should have been up there on the fortress walls with the archers, by Lord Pelletier’s side. Instead, she was stuck inside Ironstone like a trembling hen, waiting for ravens and praying to the Gods they would all return safely from Hunter’s Pass.

At the sound of her name on Faidh’s lips, she jolted slightly and turned to look at her. Elisif’s hand came to rest on her belly and she sighed. “Kaelan, if it’s a boy,” she said. “Not sure about a girl, but I have time.” Out of all of them, she liked Faidh the most: she was beautiful, smart, and not as proud and stuck up as Adrielle. “I hate to be here,” she groaned then, standing up and pacing around the table. “I should be there, in their line of defense. Damned this… Gods, I despise being a woman in times like these.”

 

[pointmango]

Jon surveyed the scene before in, amidst the masses he could not make out any familiar figures or faces. It was madness and his archers were taking liberty of firsing themselves now. Keeping a steady pace and going for a close kill when the opportunity arose. The only figure Jon could make out was Lord Skovgaard in the distance with his tall and wide stature. That and he was an absolute animal on the battlefield, he took on three or four men at once every few moments it seemed. Jon could imagine the sharp grunts and yells emerging from his mouth as he cut down man after man, justifying his rage against Alastair.

He watched as Skovgaard’s blade descended, like ice in the night, chilling it’s victims to the bones. Jon lifted his bow to cover the man, but he needed no help. He watched as Kyel pulled his sword to one man’s neck, as if he were trying to reason with Kyel. Jon was shocked the brute did not just swing the sword into the man’s neck, instead he held it beside and listened to the man’s pleas it seemed. Jon realized what was happening, a distraction. The man was pleading with Kyel, and another who he thought had been chopped down was raising his sword. “Skovgaard!” Jon yelled, there was no chance he could hear his yells in the midst of battle. Instead Jon took a deep and quick breath, lifted his bow and shot the arrow right into the shoulder of Kyel’s armor. Kyel cut the man before him and turned with rage only to see the man behind him. He lifted his hand trying to defend himself and caught the blade in the center of his hand. He saw Kyel’s mouth open in a yell, and he gripped the enemy’s sword and swung his own greatsword down hard over the man’s shoulder, and then another stab into his gut as he fell.

Jon thought about shooting another arrow when instead of retreating in with his hand red and likely unable to even move, he just turned and continued to cut men down as if nothing had happened. Jon’s jaw went tight, he was going to get himself hurt, there weren’t enough skills fighters on his side. Jon called upon his second archer, told him to run the fort as Jon climbed down the wall and moved forward, he saw Bastian first, “Lord Skovgaard needs help on west.” He said. Jon set his bow on his back and pulled his own sword then he was going too.

“Jon stay with the archers,” It was Islea speaking then, her and Bastian were clearly running operations, but their hands were on their weapons as if they were ready to pull at any moment.

“The archers are barely any use anymore. You need another sword, not another bow.”

*

Faidh smiled as Elisif revealed the first name. “Perhaps if it’s a girl, a name of meaning for him too,” Faidh suggested gently. Then Elisif stood and Faidh’s brows lifted. If she were in Elisif’s position she knew she would be in bed all day soaking up attention and rest from the handmaids. She could tell by the way the poor woman was standing her back hurt. Still seeing her pace brought the slightest smirk to the redhead’s lips.

“They won’t even let miss book strategist over here near the battle,” Faidh commented, mostly speaking to Elisif, but nodding towards Adrielle who just huffed at her. Faidh agreed with Elisif, it was unacceptable truly. Even since she was a girl, she was given dancing lessons and taught how to sit nicely, and sew while her brother and Lord Skovgaard got to fault around with swords and play in the dirt. She relished in horseback riding which was the most dirty activity she was allowed, she loved the horses as well. Dancing had been another favorite of hers, when she was younger she used to beg her father to let her dance with the crowds at festivals and the feasts, now sometimes she was asking the men she thought handsome to dance with her. She wondered briefly if the mysterious Volur man fancied a dance.

She understood Elisif’s dilemma, as the leading name of Wendlyn for the time being, she would have technically been allowed if she wished had it not been for her state. She could be carrying the heir to the southern lands, no one would dare place her closer to the battle than she already was. “We are probably better strategists than them given the chance.” She said, Lenda nodded in agreement and Faidh smiled at her.

 

[peritwinkle]

As Kaira analysed the battle unfolding before her, one thing was clear to her - they were outnumbered. Leon’s arrows had struck down a good chunk of their men from the start, perhaps even more lives than her own poisoned grass had taken, but in that state, she knew he would not go for any more crowd control. Alastair wouldn’t let him slaughter hundreds of his own people… Would he? Knowing his Volur had no say in it dug a deep pit in her stomach. Why had he not done more? Why was nobody attacking her? It seemed that she was struggling to find trouble, that Alastair’s men had been instructed to stay away instead of killing her, or trying to extract her alive again.

She fought with magic and sword for a while, until her wrists were sore from shifting the weight from one hand to the other and her trousers were torn at the knees. The battle was chaotic, dark colours all mingling together in a way that took focus in order to pinpoint the enemy over the ally. Kaira had shifted around the battlefield enough to lose any appreciation of where she was; she saw no familiar faces, no sign of Kyel or Tokesten. Jon was no longer up on the ledges, which meant he had come down to fight with the sword as well. If she could go up there, help focus an arrow or two…

No. A waste of time. The time it took to draw one arrow she could kill three of Alastair’s men. As quickly as she moved from the rush of adrenaline, it felt like the sea of enemies was never ending; she did not seem to be able to clear one spot before it was filled again. Her focus had been on keeping their own men alive, but now she swung at whoever donned the colors of House Dareon without a second thought.

It was only then that a man swung at her for the first time, and his axe whistled uncomfortably close to the top of her head. Kaira jumped back and waited for his next strike to par. Something shifted behind her, and before she turned, her fingers stretched out in front of the first man; his expression turned into an agonized grimace and veins surfaced on his neck and temple, all whilst her sword swung back behind her, but seemed to get caught into a curved blade. Kaira dropped the first man, who fell to his knees gasping for air, and her own sword fell to the ground, the strength of the disarming blow forcing her to turn. The man lifted the hilt of his scythe and pinned it harshly into her chest. Kaira fell back as he towered over her, until she saw a flash of silver, followed by the sound of cracking bone. The man looked down at her, his head now a human sheath for one of Nikolai’s daggers, before he fell limp right next to her. Before the other could stand up, Kaira kicked him in the throat and, after reaching back for her weapon, dug the blade into his chest.

“I think they’ve started to pick up on the fact that you’re no longer up there,” Nikolai said between his teeth.

Kaira shook her head as she caught her breath. “So he wants me either dead or alive,” she judged. “Good thing he finally realised I’m not coming willingly.”

“Perhaps you should,” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “Destroy him from the inside.”

“Thow me to the wolves? He will force me to swear my allegiance, or kill me. In which case, I wouldn’t consider that a win for the rebels.”

Her eyes fell on a dark boulder moving in the close distance, backed up by the smaller frame of Jon. They seemed to be cutting through those closer to them like grass, but Kaira wasted no time bolting towards them as if drawn by an invisible force. She let out a loud battle cry as she jumped for a man swinging for Kyel’s back and her blade fell right into his shoulder. Then, she dodged Kyel’s arm and surfaced in front of him, the tip of her blade sneaking up right into his current opponent’s gut. As he fell and cleared her view, she saw another swing at Jon, but as she swung her blade, a force hit her behind her knees. The next thing she knew, a coarse hand was wrapped around her neck and she felt herself lifted off of her feet. Kaira’s free hand wrapped around his wrist and the man groaned out, dropping her in an instant, immobilized enough to allow for Jon to finish him.

The more she waited, the more soldiers of House Dareon seemed to gather, as if finding her and Lord Skovgaard by their smell. Enough to allow for disaster with few casualties. Kaira turned and grabbed Kyel’s shoulder. “Take Jon and get farther away from here,” she commanded him. “Trust me. NOW!” Her eyes flickered to Nikolai without a word. ‘Cover me.’ He nodded.

Once she knew he had heard her, Kaira took a few long strides into the middle of the crowd. Her eyes closed as she descended slowly; she could hear men cry for mercy all around her, the sound of breaking bones and splattering blood. Her lips moved in a quiet chant and her fingers grazed the grass below. The ground trembled and black dust and stones lifted into the air. A strong gust of wind exploded in a circle around her, sending sharp stones into throats, eyes and exposed skin. Kaira swiftly got up, moving her hands up towards the nearest living opponent she could find; the man stumbled back, choking violently on the dark shroud, and as she snapped her wrist, the man bent his neck in an anatomically foul movement and fell limp on his face into the mud.

She could feel a damp warmth on her upper lip and her head throbbed, but she did not stop. The space around her cleared as she moved, but not fast enough for those she set her focus on to run away. She knew Nikolai was close behind, she could sense him, but she moved much faster, killed much faster and more than one single soul at once. ‘You won’t last long.’ Her mind was muddled and her thoughts almost as loud as her own heartbeat. There was no going back from there. Leon would never come down, Alastair wouldn't risk it, but he would try to stop her, and so he would witness. She wanted him to tell his King what he had seen at Hunter’s Pass.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel turned hearing her yell, his hand covered in red as it held his greatsword along with his other hand. Her blade was then forward as was she into the man before him. She swept again at the opponent by Jon and then a man had his hand on her neck. Kyel’s rage surged but she handled it herself and Jon took the final blow with one deep stab. More men swarmed them, their own men scared behind them. Kaira turned to him, and his jaw clenched harshly at her command.

She moved towards the middle of the crowd and Kyel watched her, his hand also reaching out to grip Jon, “Get back to the wall.” He commanded.

Jon stared at him, “She said you too.” Jon watched as Kyel’s eyes stayed forward on her. Jon’s own jaw clenched, this proud man was going to get himself killed, and for what? Because he had some protective claim over this Volur who could kill men by the tens and hundreds if she wanted. Jon let out a harsh huff and then his hand came forward jamming his forefinger into Kyel’s wounded hand.

Kyel roared in pain and his head whipped around looking at Jon with pure rage then. He began to move back, but he kept himself forward still watching her, Jon tugging him along as if he were doing any work to move Lord Skovgaard along. She was a beast on the battlefield, much like himself. Only her strength was magic, not brute force. He watched as she wiped out an entire line of men, and then snapped one's neck with the flick of her wrists. He forgot how powerful she truly was, it was dark and beautiful and terrifying.

She continued to move forward and from a distance he took another step forward, as if to move back into battle now. Jon smacked him again, “We need to get to the wall!” Jon yelled at the larger man.

“She’s doing too much,” Kyel said to him, “She’s going to get hurt.”

“Swallow your pride-”

“It’s not pride!” He boomed.

Jon looked at him, he thought he understood, “Kyel… she was meant to do this. She has Nikolai too, she is the best protection for herself, and he is the next best.” He knew this would only bother the man more, for it was clear he wanted to be beside her. “Get to the wall Kyel, do your duty and let her do hers.”

 

[peritwinkle]

A trail of black dust followed Kaira as she cut mercilessly through the lines of men. Blood stained the field surrounding Hunter’s Pass, not only of their enemy, but of their own as well, and as much as she fought to contain the chaos, for every ten of Alastair’s men she ended fell one of their own. She heard war cries and muffled steps of braver soldiers attempting to stop her, but none managed to get close enough to strike her. Some smarter ones from their own side had already taken the hint and began running towards the wall, as far away from the open field as they could, while others, distracted by battle, were taken aback by the black storm she brought with her. It would not be long until Leon would act, Kaira knew, but she intended to get the most out of her power before he did.

Her head was throbbing and there was a sharp, agonizing noise in her ear that only increased with every flick of her wrist. Her chest was stained with blood, but Kaira could not tell whether it was her own. She felt powerful, invincible. The pain only made her stronger and faster. In the far distance, she could hear a familiar voice call her name.

A wave of smoke crashed into her and Kaira tumbled forward into a black abyss. As she opened her eyes, the battlefield was raging, but all she could hear were the remote echoes of the soldiers all around. In front of her now stood a woman about her own height, donning a dark blue coat rimmed with fur, her hair perfectly pinned up, unfit for the barbaric scenery around her. The woman’s hand was stretched out to her and her large brown eyes were widened in worry, her pale forehead grazed by fine lines. She parted her lips, but the sound that left them did not belong to her.

‘Kaira!’

A bright flash stirred her back to the harsher reality. Kaira had fallen to her knees and Nikolai was standing before her, shielding her from a rainfall of blades. She quickly shot back up, closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head and charged. She felt a cold touch on her lip again and she watched as bright red droplets fell on her chest and to the ground below. Kaira tensed her fingers and clenched them again; her heart was pounding, and with every pound she felt a hammer striking against the top of her head. As she raised her arms, she heard the ground rumble beneath her feet, this time a much deeper sound, but which did not reside in her own being. The earth cracked like ice; the gap slithered from one side of the battlefield to the other, separating her from the surviving army and their Volur. She saw Leon, standing in the middle of his men, his nails digging into the mud as the chasm widened.

They had won. Kaira dropped her sword as she watched him; he had taken the safest route, salvaging whatever was left on his side of the abyss. Saving her, as well. She felt the ring burn around her fingers and she clenched her fists, then wiped the blood from her nose with her sleeve. Smoke and dust rose from the ground and the sky turned dark for her once again.

 

[pointmango]

The ground shook at the table where Islea, Bastian and Kyel stood. Jon jogged back down from being perched back on the wall, “A fissure in the land from their Volur. They’re retreating.” He explained. Their own men were retreating back to them, and Kyel looked forward to see the dark figure of Nikolai Grimward carrying his sister forward in his arms. No. Kyel thought immediately and he cleared the table with one swift sweep. As Kaira was laid before them, Kyel leaned forward wiping the blood still pouring from her nose with his thumb, his other fingers holding at her cheek. “I can ride her back.” He spoke quickly. He saw the look from Nikolai, “My horse is faster than yours.” He nearly growled.

“I will ride her back.” Jon stepped forward. He saw the anger flare within Lord Skovgaard’s eyes, “Ride beside me I don’t care,” Jon was speaking to the both of them now. “I ride the fastest, either one of you two with her weight will only slow the horse. I’m taking her.”

Islea nodded in agreement, “Leave now. Bastian and I will gather the troops with Ser Tokesten, lead them back.”

*

When they arrived in Ironstone, Kyel was the first off his horse, approaching Jon’s and taking her without question. Her body looked cold, her lips almost blue and her skin the same. She was almost as pale as the snow on the ground. “Get the healer,” Kyel snapped sharply to Jon. “To her room.” He clarified and as he was carrying Kiara quickly up to her room, his eyes forward with determination, worry clear within the set of his jaw, he almost ran into Fiadh Rand.

The redhead stared at the girl in Kyel’s arms. “Is she…?” She asked.

“Get Elisif.” Kyel said, ignoring her question. Fiadh stood in shock, “Now Fiadh!” And Kyel continued carrying her, no doubt Nikolai’s steps close behind him as he opened the door to her chambers. He laid her on the bed, immediately covering her in furs and bundling her. His hand moved to her cheek, her skin was pale, and cold to the touch. His jaw tightened again and he moved over to the fireplace, placing wood in and igniting it as fast as possible.

When he rose, Jon came back with the healer, and Nikolai was also in the room. “Can’t you do something?” It was Kyel’s voice and his eyes were tight as he glared at Nikolai.

“Lord Skovgaard-” Jon tried to begin.

“She healed me once, heal her.” Kyel practically boomed as he began walking towards Nikolai.

The doctor stood, “She needn’t be… healed,” he said, glancing at Nikolai. “Her vitals are intact, she is asleep. Her body temperature is low, but warming. She needs rest is all, a lot of rest. I will send a servant up with a mixture I’d like her to drink as well.”

“I want you to bring the ingredients here and make the mixture here.” Kyel said, again speaking too loudly as Jon had to step forward placing a hand on Kyel’s shoulder. But Kyel didn’t need someone who hated Volur getting any ideas while she was weak.

“Yes my Lord,” The healer spoke before exiting the room.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira felt light as a feather in Nikolai’s arms as he carried her away from the blood stained battlefield towards the wall of the stronghold. She was as pale as a corpse, her lips violet and her lip and chin painted bright crimson. He could hear his heart pounding with each step, a strange twist in his gut as he looked down at her; Nikolai knew she was not dead, but seeing her so limp and lifeless was an unpleasant contrast to the war machine he had witnessed only minutes before. Whatever her magic was, it was nothing but dark and violent, and Nikolai believed he had no way of helping her out of it unless she took a step towards helping herself and not playing a martyr anymore.

Upon seeing her, Lord Skovgaard appeared the most distraught; his voice boomed over the silence, his jaw tight and his chest puffing up in an excess of anger and protectiveness. Nikolai laid her on the table gently, holding her head as he lowered it and another droplet of blood trickled down her cheek. His lips curled into a grimace. The fervent argument between him and Jonathan Pelletier sent his own blood boiling. “Whichever one of you it is, we need to take her out of here,” Nikolai growled at them. The younger Lord was right, riding with Skovgaard would take much longer, and they had no time to spare. Gods knew if the King’s army got any ideas now that they knew their Volur was out for good.

*​

The ride back to Ironstone was long and cold. Both Nikolai and Kyel followed closely behind Jonathan’s trail, his own hand prepared, hovering above his daggers every time they entered a tighter pass. He could tell the Northern Lord was alert as well; they could not afford to get ambushed by some overzealous Whitecloak again. With a godly hand, they managed to reach the castle before midnight, the healers and servants would have no excuse to scurry off at the sight of her. Although Nikolai had learned to use the Northerners’ hatred towards their kind to his advantage, the thought of some healer half-assing their job for that reason made his blood boil. Still, he knew there was no other way out of resting, but she had been out for too long now. Far too long.

Lord Skovgaard lead them to Kaira’s room in a haste and set her down on the bed. Nikolai drew to one corner of the room near the window and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. He could not bear to touch her again; she was cold, pale and clammy, as if freshly fished out of the sea. He watched as Jon returned to the room followed closely by a man past his youth, his hand trembling as he analysed her from afar. Yet instead of the older man, Skovgaard flared his nostrils towards him, and Nikolai pushed himself away from the wall, his eyes narrowed.

“You think I wouldn’t if I could?” Nikolai thundered. “It doesn’t work that way. I cannot heal an ailment caused by magic.”

The healer was right. All that could ever help her was rest, and with a stroke of luck, she would awaken for long enough to take a sip of that miracle concoction. At the mention of it, he watched Kyel attentively; he seemed to turn into a beast whenever it came to her, like a dragon protecting a pot of gold, and he could not blame him. If anything, he was glad at least he was worried enough about her state. Nikolai chewed on the inside of his cheek, ready to press on Lord Skovgaard’s request if the other man protested, but instead, he nodded at them and left the room in a hurry.

As he resumed his position by the window, the door opened again, this time to reveal the worried face of Lady Elisif, with a young servant on her trail that disappeared into the dark corridor once the woman entered the room. She held her hands on her belly, her pale green eyes darkened by the furrow of her brow. “Fiadh told me,” the woman’s voice trembled. “But I could not understand a word. Kaira…” Her eyes fell on the dark figure laid down on the bed and she quickly ran over to her side, sat down and placed a warm palm on her forehead. “Gods protect her… What happened at the Pass?!”

“She destroyed them,” Nikolai frowned. “Cut through them like butter, didn’t know when to stop. I suppose her master saved her again, while salvaging whatever was left of his army of trembling chickens dressed in black.”

Elisif bit her lip and turned her eyes back to the girl. “I will have my handmaids get her out of those dirty clothes and cleaned up. And I will have all of you three out of this room while that happens,” she cocked her brow at Kyel then.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel’s eyes shifted when Elisif entered the room. His mind was reeling, the healer spoke she would be fine, but would she? Would she wake up? Would she be all there? Just groggy? What had Leon done to her? Surely he wouldn't hurt her, right? Most of all he was frustrated with the damned rules of their magic. How was it she could heal him, and Nikolai could not even offer an ounce of help to soothe anything? Elisif was quick to move to Kaira’s side, to comfort her, his chest burned again, for he wanted to sit by her bedside and hold her hand and watch her face when she woke. Nikolai explained the battle at the Pass.

Elisif was quick to make arrangements, and again Kyel’s eyes darted to her when she said she wanted all three of them out of the room. His jaw clenched and he had some choice words for his old friend then, Elisif knew as well as him there wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen already. “I will wait outside then, in case she needs to be moved.” Kyel spoke in a deep tone.

Jon was worried about Kaira as well, but he also was frustrated with the rash state of Kyel’s exposure. Jon was well aware everyone in the room currently had their suspicions, and Kaira’s well being was the top priority, still Jon thought Kyel was not helping himself from the slip of an admission he might not need to make. “Lord Skovgaard, you must inform your Uncle and the Ladies of Farrest of our victory. Wash up as well, and get that hand looked at.” Jon said looking at the dirty cloth around his balled fist. “I will stay with Lady Vannbrek, outside of course,” He added nodding to Elisif. “I can retrieve you when she has woken and would like to see visitors.” Jon told him. “I can do the same for you as well,” Jon said, turning his body to face Nikolai, “You’ve exerted yourself as well, rest will do you good.” He explained. Kaira deserved a moment of peace when she woke up, these two idiots would fuss about her, even in their own brooding ways, he was almost certain of it.

Kyel was still glaring at Jon, his words to inform the council he still had here was the correct move. He stepped forward, his hand lifted and his finger came to point at Jon until it was pressed into his chest, “Thank you Lord Pelletier,” Kyel growled. Kyel moved to Elisif, his hand touching the woman’s arm much more gently, his shoulders which were so tensed up relaxed a moment, “When the healer comes back, you must watch every ingredient he puts into that drink, okay?” Kyel spoke in a very serious deep tone.

Lord Skovgaard looked at each face within the room once more before storming out with a stomp in his stride to inform the rest of the council. Jon elegantly shifted from his spot near the bed to the door, and held it open for Nikolai as Elisif’s first handmaiden came back with a few more.

 

[peritwinkle]

Elisif could not say she was entirely unhappy with Kyel’s demeanor; on the one hand, as dangerous as she was, Kaira did need someone to watch her backand shake her to reality when needed. On the other hand, his flaring nostrils would hardly make for a good view upon waking up. As Kyel came to warn her, Elisif simply nodded - she knew her herbs and medicinal plants better than either him or the other two brooding owls ever could. Growing up in a garden as large as a farmer’s field, there was no chance the healer could slip anything into the drink that she would not be able to sniff out.

Nikolai dropped his arms by his side and clenched his fists nervously. There was a look of concern on his face that made Elisif take into consideration that Kaira’s brother had a heart, after all. “Call for me when she wakes up,” she said, and pointed sharply to Elisif. The woman lowered her head in a silent agreement; she would call for him, but likely for Lord Skovgaard first, otherwise her dear old friend would have her head.

The three of them disappeared through the door and soon, the emptiness was filled by two servant girls who hurried inside by Jon’s gesture. Elisif lifted her hand and pointed towards the door at the back of the room. “Go fetch some damp cloths,” she instructed them. She had been in Ironstone twice before, so the whereabouts of things came rather easily to her. Elisif got up herself and opened the wardrobe by the bed, ran her fingers over the small array of gowns and settled on a violet robe for the Volur, which she gently set on the edge of the bed as her handmaids came back into the room with cloths for washing, a bar of jasmine soap and a wooden comb.

A knock on the door announced the return of the healer. Elisif gestured for the girls to let him inside and the man approached the bed with his head lowered and his arms encumbered by satchels, a mortar and pestle and a cup and teaspoon for mixing. Lady Vannbrek straightened her back and offered the man a kind smile as he settled his ingredients down. “Sage and rosemary,” she observed tactfully. “Perfect for the tired.”

“Mmh,” the man gave her a glance before starting to mix.

“And yarrow… Whatever for?”

“The nosebleed, my Lady,” he said quickly. “She should inhale the fumes.”

“Mm…”

Once the mixture was done, he poured it into a cup and handed it to Elisif, followed by the bowl of yarrow infusion, which she both set gently on the bedside. The mans stopped to look at the pale Volur for a moment, his lips pressing into a fine line, before standing up and offering Elisif a nod. “My Lady,” he murmured, before making his leave.

As soon as he was gone, Elisif invited her handmaids to the edge of the bed and began slowly removing the tight leather strapped to Kaira’s body. They moved rather quickly, making sure there was no trace of dried blood or dirt, and after wrapping her up in the silk robe, Elisif began gently brushing her hair.

“She looks awfully pale,” one of the girls commented.

“And cold,” the other added.

“Lord Skovgaard will have some thicker clothes made for her,” Elisif mused. As much as he likely enjoyed seeing her in thin silks and with her chest bare, Ironstone was far too cold for such dainty attires.

She set her locks back on the pillow and placed a hand on her shoulder. Kaira shifted slightly and let out a soft grunt, barely audible over the crackling fire. The room was thankfully warming up, the heat would wash away the chill soon enough. “You may go,” she said to the girls, “and let Lord Skovgaard know she is waking up.”

 

[pointmango]

Kyel just finished a conversation with his Uncle and the Ladies of Farrest. They would have council midday after the troops returned. He needed to give Ser Tokesten time to assess their losses. He left his Uncles chambers after a quick discussion and he headed to his own to bathe and change. There was a timid knock on his door, and Kyel opened it as he finished lacing his top to find two servant girls before him. Both took a low bow. “She is waking, m’Lord,” One spoke in a nervous tone.

Kyel’s chest surged, he kept his demeanor composed, “Thank you.” He said quickly to them. His feet carried him quickly down the hall to her chambers, he entered finding Elisif still sitting by her side and he let the door close behind himself. Kaira was in a violet robe, the color suited her, and even the room’s smell had changed, a mix of fire and jasmine with a hint of yarrow still in the air. Her skin was still pale and her lips were also pale, but the blueish tint from earlier had gone.

His brow creased in a deep line as he approached the bed, “I should send for more furs.” He said, an unnecessary gesture, the bed had more than enough blankets, and more were in the chest at the foot of the bed. Kyel’s eyes lifted to Elisif’s a moment, the woman had seen Kaira leaving his room in a state of undress before, and he had basically confessed his feelings for the Volur to her. He did not care if Elisif witnessed his gestures. He leaned over the bed then, one hand pressing beside her waist for leverage, the other coming to her cheek, his thumb brushed gently along her skin which was still too cold to the touch. He leaned down and pressed a long kiss to her forehead, “I am here, Kaira,” he whispered.

His eyes lifted to Elisif, who was readying herself to leave. He nodded to his old friend, “Thank you.” His eyes met her green ones and his serious tone was clear; he was grateful. When the door closed behind Elisif, Kyel did not hesitate, pushing his boots from his feet and climbing into bed beside Kaira. He pulled two fur blankets over them and wrapped his arms around her, trying to be gentle as he pulled her in close against his chest. His hands pulled her face in beneath his jaw, feeling her cold nose against the warm skin of his neck. He let out a deep exhale, “You did it, you know.” He whispered out finally into her hair, “You won.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Elisif turned towards the door slightly as Kyel entered the room; she was seated on the edge of the bed, one hand on Kaira’s shoulder, caressing the exposed skin with her thumb. She watched him approach and eventually stood up, allowing him to touch her and press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Elisif’s brows furrowed and curled up and she felt her heart skip a beat. She was all too familiar with what might have gone through the man’s chest at the sight of her fallen in battle, now washed away by the sweet relief of her wake.

She nodded at his words of gratitude and, offering him a smile, decided to give the two of them some peace. Upon leaving, she tapped her fingers on the edge of the bedside table as a reminder for him to give her the medicine when she could take it. Kyel was not a careless man, and not at all forgetful, but she knew how love could cloud one’s mind in such moments, and they needed Kaira strong, as soon as possible. “Take care,” she whispered to him, before making her way out the door and closing it gently behind herself.

“Kyel…” Kaira’s coarse voice broke the silence as she shifted under the sheets. She was cold and her skin felt oddly damp, and there was a sharp pain in the front of her head, weighing heavy on her eyelids. The air in the room was mellow and sweet, imbued with jasmine and burning hearth. “Nikolai… Where is…. my brother…”

A pair of warm hands pressed to her face and she felt herself being pulled gently towards a large lump that radiated heat and a pleasant smell of pine and freshly dried cotton. As her lids parted, she let a soft groan escape her lips; she was safe, no longer on the blood stained fields surrounding Hunter’s Pass, and she no longer smelled of death and iron. Memories slowly returned to her, one by one - the cascade of arrows, the killing, and the look on Leon’s face as he had broken the earth in two. Then, she remembered the vision, followed by the pitch darkness and a pair of arms lifting her off of the ground. Kyel. Or, perhaps Nikolai. She needed to know if her brother was safe.

“I saw my mother,” Kaira whispered against Kyel’s chest. She could still taste blood in her mouth and the corners of her lips curled downwards in aversion. “She kept me from… consuming myself… I think. She stopped me.” She sighed again, closing her eyes. “I was… afraid you wouldn’t run to the wall when I told you to.”

 

[pointmango]

His arms stayed tight around her, enclosing her in any bit of safety this comfort could provide. “Nikolai is safe.” he promised her quietly. He laid with her, reminding himself of the medicine he needed to give her. But her words distracted him again. His lips pressed down into her hair as she spoke of her mother, he didn’t understand, but he was grateful for whatever was going on. He took in another deep breath. She revealed she was afraid for him. “I didn’t want to.” he confessed. “I’d never seen you use so much power,” he whispered, “I was so afraid-” his voice cut off and he shifted them. “Jon had to convince me to leave,” he said, although he omitted the part where Jon had to practically stab him in his injured hand to get him to listen.

Now he was laying beside her more, he shifted her body upward so her face was right beside his on the pillow. His nose was almost touching hers, and her eyes were still tired, but they were full of something else, something he couldn’t quite place. He wished he could read her better, she was so difficult for him to figure out. “I thought I was going to lose you Kaira.” he whispered softly and his hand moved up to her cheek. His large thumb brushed under her cheekbone as he studied her face. This was not the worst battle they would come to face, this was only the beginning. “I cannot lose you,” his eyes locked onto hers, he was certain of this. “I love you Kaira Grimward, and I will not lose you.” His voice aggressively confessed.

 

[peritwinkle]

Kyel’s words took away some of the weight on Kaira’s heart; everyone was safe and the battle had been won, albeit she knew there had been enough casualties to leave a gap among their ranks. Still, had it not been for her, perhaps that hole would have been much deeper. She allowed him to move her slowly, pulling her up so their faces were closer. The shift sent her blood flooding to her head and she grunted quietly at the throbbing pain. His eyes were on her now, his heat radiating against her face, and his next words crushed against her like a wall of ice.

What was she to say then? The memory of their first night together came to her mind, the promise that it would only be one kiss, one touch, and it all would be forgotten the morning after. Now, he held her and made a promise that stabbed her heart mercilessly. Kaira lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek, now looking up to him as well. Her eyes were empty and narrowed from the pain, and the image of him before her was rippling, faded, as if she were peeking through a translucent shroud. “You cannot love me,” she whispered. “I was never made to be loved… And not by a Lord whose people make it a purpose of their existence… to rid the world of those like me.”

A sharp pain shot through her chest then, and her throat clenched tightly. Something inside of her wanted to hear him say it again. She wanted to hear him say that he wanted her, that he was willing to fight to have her. She wanted him to promise that no matter how many ladies he’d have to court or how many advisors he’d have to dispute with, he would find a way.

Her hand moved from his cheek and her fingers wrapped weakly around his own, guiding it towards her heart. Kaira closed her eyes and, with the last ounce of magic she had within, her lips parted to form a muffled whisper. She wanted him to feel what she felt, the hollow in her chest and the burning of her heart. She wanted him to know she felt the same, but she was either too scared or too proud to say it out loud. Her eyes eventually opened and her fingers parted from his, now deepening her head back into the pillow below.

 

[pointmango]

Kyel’s eyes watched her face intensely, her eyes were empty, but she had lifted her hand to touch him. You cannot love me his chest burned with hurt as he watched her. He could love whomever he wanted, he knew the implications of his feelings for her, but her rejection of them was now worse than the pain of that confession. He bit his tongue harshly as his jaw clenched, yelling the words at her would not change her mind. She was refusing him, one way or another, she was telling him no.

And yet, her hand came from his cheek to his hand on hers. She lowered his hand to the center of her chest, and his own chest exploded with a feeling he knew within his own chest. It felt twice as strong now and his body shook with feeling. Her hand left his, but his hand stayed on her chest as the feeling fled from his chest, only his own intensity of his heart remained. He wanted hers back, he needed the reassurance.

Kyel leaned over her slightly, his hand lifted to her jaw tilting her face to look at him. “I would never rid the world of you,” his thumb pressed into her chin, trying to be gentle and firm. She was weak, and drawn out, but he also needed to get his point across. “Look at me,” his hand tilted her head slightly, “I felt that,” he said glancing down to her chest, his eyes were dark and desperate. “You are loved by so many Kaira, and you are desired too,” Kyel informed her, although he was certain she was aware of the latter.

He was weak then. The vulnerability she caused him with just her being beside him was frightening. The frown etched into his features was deep, and his gaze searched hers for something more, for anything. “Let me love you, Kaira.” Kyel leaned his head down against hers, his forehead on hers as his nose touched the side of her cheek, “I told you I cannot lose you…. Don’t make me say it again.”

 

[peritwinkle]

A veil of darkness washed over Kaira, holding her pressed down against the pillow, and the blanket weighed heavily on her weak body. She felt the gentle touch of Kyel’s fingers to her chin and his scent taking over her; he was speaking close to her own lips then, his voice vibrating into her, keeping her awake. He told her to look at him, and so Kaira opened her eyes slowly and rested them on the pools of blue that watched her so intently, in a mixture of pain and affection she had never seen in the Wolf of Ironstone before.

Kaira closed her eyes again as his forehead came to press against hers and she let out a soft sigh of relief. How could he love her? She was a weapon, a danger, an omen of death and disaster. She was not a Lady, not even a commoner without titles. Still, a selfish fragment of her yearned for his love; she wanted him to stay by her side, to take her under his wing and call her his lover. She wanted him to look only at her, no longer at Adrielle or any other woman more fitting for his affections. Gods knew what would happen by the end of the war, and whether both of them would live to see it, and she could not bear to lose him knowing she had not let him love her back.

“Stay,” was all she could whisper out to him, yet that mere word held as much emotion and weight as a promise - she would let him love her, and she would love him in return, if the burning within her chest was what love truly was. In that moment, she could not think clearly, and she knew her more sane self would regret any misstep, so she looked up at him, pressed her hand to his chest again, and told him to “Stay,” before crushing her lips against his with the last droplet of fervor she kept within.

 

[pointmango]

He watched down at her, she said nothing, until she did/ And it was all he could accept in the moment. He nodded slightly, knowing this was her answer. She would let him love her, but was that feeling within her chest love? It was awfully similar to his own. Still, he could not be certain until she spoke it. Was he cursed when it came to love? Then Kaira leaned up into him with one intense kiss. Kyel’s lips pressed back down into hers, one of his hands on her waist the other still holding her jaw. “I will stay.”

Kyel rolled over slightly and pulled her in closer against him so she could sleep against his chest. She’d have a few more hours of rest before the council meeting, and he would wake her this time when they would have to leave. He propped his head upward slightly against the pillow so she could watch her delicate face, also so intense and full of thought and worry, which was now calm and at peace. The words threatened to slide off his tongue again, but he swallowed them back into the place inside of him he kept the words before. Then the words had been shiny and new, never used since Elisif, and even then, she never reciprocated the words. Now they felt new again, and again, he was doomed with a woman who felt she couldn’t love him back.

There was not anything he would not do for Kaira. But there was one thing he feared he could not do - continue to be the Lord of Ironstone and keep his love for her. Not even his love, just keep her. Either way he went, it felt like he was abandoning her or the man he was grown to be. Neither decision was right, because with each decision came a loss. He felt no matter the choice there was an inevitable moment where he would peter out, and fall flat on his face or worse, flat upon his chest and puncture his heart which he had sworn he would never give to another again.

He shifted again, wondering how much time had passed. There was a knock on the door, “Council at the start of the next hour,” It was Jon’s voice, he knew they both were in there, and Kyel heard the footsteps leaving just as soon as they had come. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Kaira, wake up.” He whispered. Then he leaned over to the bedside table, “Drink this too please.”

 

[peritwinkle]

The night fell over her quickly after the kiss, as if the warmth of Kyel’s body drugged her right to a dreamless sleep. When Kyel’s voice woke her up, she felt as though she had merely closed her eyes for a few moments, and she could almost still taste him on her lips. She recalled the sound of knocking on the door, albeit like a distant dream, which meant whoever had come to stir them knew Kyel had spent the night with her. Kaira tensed slightly as she forced herself wide awake; was there a council? Would that be discussed in front of Dame Sadelyn, as well?

The smell of medicinal greenery hit Kaira harshly when Kyel brought the cup to her face. The concoction had curdled and sank to the bottom, a yellow, unappetizing mass that reeked of sage and rosemary. She set herself up slightly against one palm, still above Kyel’s chest and, holding her breath, swallowed the entire cup in a few painful gulps, then gave it back to him to return it to the bedside table. Her eyes fell on another bowl dyed yellow with a familiar scent. “Yarrow,” she winced. “I don’t have a nosebleed anymore,” Kaira decided as she eventually sat up on the edge of the bed, and the pounding headache from the night before returned with a roar, along with three words that stung her right through her heart.

Kyel looked at her with worry and warmth in his eyes. Those stormy blue pools could be as loving as they were menacing, but never towards her, not even when he swore he resented her kind. Kaira had earned his heart, but she was convinced she had actually stolen it, for it should not belong to her. “I will wear one of your capes today,” she decided quietly. ‘I want you to know I am yours. Even if I cannot be.’ Nobody else would know but the two of them. Perhaps the Greenwall council or Jon, if they were sharp enough to analyse the patterns, but their eyes did not bother Kaira. She knew she and Kyel had their respect regardless of their choices in the bedroom.

With slow steps, Kaira stood up and leaned against the wall for a moment, waiting for the black veil darkening her sight to vanish. “I should… I should brush my hair. And put on a proper dress.” Her eyes opened and rested on him for a moment. “I look dreadful, don’t I?”

 

[pointmango]

His brows lifted watching her down the entire concoction. The smallest hint of a smile appeared on his lips as she decided to dawn one of his capes. “Very well.” He decided. He stood as she did, quickly moving to her side in case she was still uneasy and needed the support, but she held herself well. “You look much better than you did last night.” He informed her with his smile pushing through more. He stepped forward and leaned down pressing a long kiss to her forehead. “I will send someone with a cape for you.” He told her quietly.

*

When the council chamber was full, the round table was more than packed. Their entire team, and a few Generals were packed into the room. He also noted a familiar redhead seated by her brother and she was technically not permitted to be there. Kyel ignored the girl, knowing dismissing her would cause a bigger scene than necessary. Kyel stood up and moved to stand behind his chair. “Thank you all for coming.” He spoke in the loud abrasive tone he normally addressed the council with. “Congratulations is in order for our victory at Hunter’s Pass.” He spoke, “But an even larger respect must be paid to our Volurs. Without Kaira Grimward and her brother, Nikolai,” he spoke, making it very clear Kaira was their main source of power, “This battle would have damned us.” he nodded down to her first and then he looked to Nikolai, repeating the motion. “Still we faced many casualties, our army took a great hit. And while Alastair's did as well, his number still preceded ours.” He said.

His voice paused, wondering if he should make any comments towards Leon. He did not know anything of him for certain. “In his stead he sent only his Royal Volur to battle. His presence was lost. We may not have the numbers or weaponry the King has. But we have the very people in this room, leading our forces with courage. We beat the King in morale every time. Should we face another battle before our own mark on the capital, we could be in trouble. Today’s council is more than just our victory, we need to prepare for the worst.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Kaira thought the timing of the council was an abrasive wake-up slap across the face, but she knew she could not have the other postpone the discussions following the battle at Hunter’s Pass, or even more dramatically - miss the council altogether. Had it not been for Kyel’s care in the morning, she doubted she would have made it there on time, or at all without collapsing the moment she got up from the bed. She was still processing the events of the night before, only now beginning to be aware of the fact that he had, indeed, spent the night watching over her instead of looking after his own interests of protecting his name against ill-bred rumours.

As she stepped into the tall council room, his words played in her head like a catchy lyric, and oddly enough she had no desire to clear her mind of it. He loved her. He could not lose her. She watched each of the Lords and Ladies seated around the table turn their heads as she walked in behind Kyel and a veil of silence fell over, broken only by the sounds of their steps as they each found their assigned chairs. Kaira sat down briskly and leaned back, resting her eyes for a moment. The sudden movement sent her head spinning and her ears ringing, and the pressure in her skull returned in full force with painful throbs. She felt a hand on her arm and, when her eyes opened again, they fell on Nikolai, sitting by her side with narrowed eyes; he watched her for a moment, as if making sure she was more than a walking corpse, before retreating his hand almost shamefully.

Kyel’s voice boomed over their heads, glorifying Kaira for their victory. She saw Elisif smirk and look at her with pride; she knew the woman must have gone through quite the fright inbetween letters. Then, he mentioned Leon and Alastair’s absence, which earned quite a few glares, particularly from the Greenwall council.

“I never put it past him to leave his men do the dirty work,” Beor spoke through gritted teeth. His palm slammed against the table. “That’s how he will lose followers to our cause. For our leaders do what they ought to do, they lead! Lord Skovgaard of the North would never let his men fight alone.”

“And I would not let mine,” Elisif chimed in. “Were it not for my blessed burden, I would have been up there on the walls, with Jon and the other archers.”

Tokesten’s lips pursed into a faint smile for a moment, before he forced himself serious. “Ser Beor is right. Perhaps we could benefit from sending a couple of letters to the Houses that still cling to neutrality. Change their minds,” he canted his head. “Plus, after what I witnessed our Volur do, I doubt we are still in disadvantage. Kaira was simply extraordinary.”

“And very reckless,” Nikolai commented. His fist clenched, the rings on his fingers digging into his skin. “What Kaira did is very dark magic.”

“Nikolai-“ Kaira began, but he cut her off.

“You might see it as this extraordinary weapon, and it is, but a blade is no longer of use if you strike so hard it breaks. The only reason I am here is because I have found my sister after almost a decade of believing I was alone in the world. I thought I would take this job, get it done and get paid. But sidetracked or not, I will not let her fall prey to your greed.”

“Sacrifices are necessary,” Bastian nodded, “but Grimward is right. I saw what she did, and I saw even Alastair’s Volur attempt to stop it. There was fear in his actions and a sense of preservation.”

‘Or he wanted to protect me.’ Kaira chewed on her lower lip as she twisted the ring around her finger. “Either way,” she began, “it would be smart for him to hit Elvgard next, so we should get our initial plan with the port through before he recovers. He no longer cares if I am brought to him dead or alive, but what is certain is that Alastair hates the fact that you have me.”

“The attack,” Elisif murmured.

“No,” Kaira shook her head, then looked to Kyel. “We have reason to believe the attack was separate from Alastair.”

 

[pointmango]

Jon listened intently, when they spoke of Alastair, Jon wondered what sort of coward the King was. Every man he had ever know apart from perhaps Lord Bailan worked with and before their men, to prove their cause. Beor was right, he would lose followers, although Jon also knew the King likely didn’t care, he just needed to win so he could get Kaira back. As Elisif spoke of being on the wall with him, Jon nodded to her.

Jon wondered how Kyel truly felt on the issues of Kaira’s action in the battle. Jon had to strike the man in his injured hand to pull him away from the girl, and even then it took convincing. Nikolai’s reservations were clear and Bastian words on Leon were clear too. Everyone in this situation was trying to protect Kaira. However, Jon disagreed with Kaira, he thought the King wanted her alive, very alive. She was his only hope, and he knew her safety was the future of his Kingdom, and he’d burn the rest of it to the ground in order to get her.

Jon watched Kyel grow tense at Elisif’s whispers, his attention directed towards Kaira before he watched the large man take a deep breath when the entire table seemed to be leaning in.

“On our ride to Ironstone, we were attacked.” The group knew this, Ser Beor was injured and so was Felix. The details were kept under wraps from most of their extended council. “The group that attacked us were a small group of men clad in white cloaks. The man we captured revealed nothing. We believed the men to be Whitecloaks. Based on their appearance, their clear aim to harm only the Grimwards and the mans we captured virtue.”

General Krey scoffed, “Preposterous,” the man nearly laughed. “Whitecloaks have not been in the North for tens, maybe even a hundred years. Their breed,” he shot daggers at the Grimwards. “Is dying out, and thus so have Whitecloaks.”

“But it does not make it impossible.” Lord Rand spoke. “If I may, Lord Skovgaard?” he asked his old friend and Kyel nodded. “The Whitecloaks, while we believe to be a dormant culture… well they could very well be alive and well. Small, but the legends suggest it is more than just a group. It is like a religion. They believe they were given the same power as the Volurs to destroy those who use the power for destruction. The books say they believe they are the balance the world needs.” Lord Rand watched as the others looked to him then, a surge of pride lifted within him, but he kept his face straight. “There has not been a known Volur who practices like the Grimwards in the North for a long time. It makes sense, the uh… the people who believe to claim they balance them has disappeared as well.”

“And what if they were just raiders with stolen cloaks?” Kyel’s Uncle interjected.

“They were not.” Kyel’s voice cut across the room. “The hilt of the man's sword sent me back nearly a hundred feat. Sent Felix back further. When have you known anything human to tame my beast?” He asked his uncle then. “I cannot promise they are Whitecloaks. But whatever they are, they are powerful and their target is clear.“ Kyel felt his throat tighten at the thought of another attack, he would ensure she was by his side during any and all forms of travel. “And we must focus on our own target. In order to do so we need protection for the Grimwards. We also need to heed their expertise and not exert our strongest player in this war.” he pointed out to the group.

 

[peritwinkle]

Elisif’s eyes scurtinized General Krey as he expressed his disbelief so eagerly. Was it so hard to believe in myths when he had two Volur right in front of his eyes? There were men who did not believe in magic altogether, for they had never seen Volur for themselves, and Elisif did not put Krey past that category of ignorance. He had already come to the council with a luggage of preconceived opinions and did not seem too willing to give them up, despite having the proof of Kaira and her brother’s loyalty right before his eyes.

A sigh of relief left her lips when Kyel explained how he had been taken back at the pure brute force of the presumed Whitecloaks; she leaned into the backrest and closed her eyes for a moment, tapping her fingers against the edge of the table. Kaira was still looking up at him - the girl looked weak and dazed, as if freshly shaken out of a deep sleep, and Elisif knew she was not the only one seeing it. She was a readily available prey if Dame Sadelyn or Krey wished to attack with poisonous words and sharp opinions. It was up to her and Kyel to protect Kaira from their bias.

“This is why we need to play safe,” Bastian intervened. “After the feast we should carry out our plan.” He looked to Nikolai and nodded. “The other Grimward said he knows a man who will help us deal a consistent blow to the King’s resources before he regroups and gets any idea of striking again.”

Nikolai chewed on his cheek for a moment. Kaira could tell he was nervous - the others had no clue of the deed they would have to promise to do in order to gain the trust of Nikolai’s friend. She could only hope that they could carry on with the port plan first, if they were convincing enough when explaining its urgency. Otherwise, paying a visit to the Silent would give enough time for Alastair to strike Elvgard, rendering all their planning completely useless.


When the council dispersed, Kaira remained in her seat, one hand on Kyel’s arm to stop him as he got up as well, and watched the others leave the room one by one. Elisif was the only one looking back with worried eyes, as if she were intending on speaking to her, and Kaira made a mental note to pay her a visit that evening, or perhaps after lunch. Eventually, she stood up slowly and leaned in, pressing her forehead to his chest. She was still weak and dizzy from the movement, despite the gentle pace. The thought of having to dance in only two days made her gut twist and churn.

“I don’t want that Matias to meet his friend’s sister like this,” she murmured against his coat. “I am of no use in this state. And the feast… Gods, I can’t just skip it, can I?”

 

[pointmango]

The group dispersed and Rand followed the other Volur out of the room and down the hallway. “Grimward,” he said, gaining Nikolai’s attention. His sister was by his side, and rather than making a scene to get rid of her, he let Fiadh stay by his side, unfortunately she was of some use in these cases. “I would like us to arrange a meeting. After the feast of course. It’s important our expedition to your friend goes over smoothly. Lord Skovgaard’s expectation is that we take out the King’s resources before any more attacks like the one we just faced, or worse.”

Fiadh let her eyes rake generously over Nikolai, he was not a northern man, but his stance and defense were completely Northern, if not, then more. He was equally dangerous as he was mysterious, and from what she had heard, powerful as well. Her lips curled into a small smile, “Do not worry brother, I think Mister Grimward is more than capable of Lord Skovgaard and the Council’s requests.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Rand looked at his sister with a frown. Rand took another look at Nikolai and nodded quickly before parting ways with his hands behind his back.

Faidh however, had stayed. No one else was in the hallway, and she felt her heartbeat quicken, more than a handsome man would send her into. It was the magic running through his veins that excited her, she wanted to see it. She had yet to see any magic done by either of them. Elisif had told her stories, and after the battle she’d heard quite a bit too. The redheaded woman took a long step toward Nikolai, her eyes lifted to meet his and her coy smile curled, “We enjoy **capable** men here in the North. I do not doubt your **skills**,” Her hand slowly reached forward to his arm, letting her palm and fingertips run down his sleeve as her eyes watched him while intrigue ran over her own features. “Save me a dance at the feast, Mister Grimward.” she spoke softly.

*

Kyel’s mind was clouded after the council. Kaira was weak, and in danger, Whitecloaks had returned and were threatening their Volurs, particularly her. The feast seemed so miniscule in comparison to their feat at hand. And now he had to face the trust he was supposed to place in this man Nikolai knew, the key to cutting the King off that would shift this war in their favor. He stood as the council was now gone, and he rubbed one of his temples trying to clear his mind. What approach would he be taking if he didn’t need to protect her? Would he still wish to play it safe like Bastian suggested? He didn’t know, and a headache began to throb in his mind.

Her hand on his arm grounded him, and only made his thought process more confusing. He was certain he would do anything to keep Kaira safe and the repercussions of that thought alone scared him. Especially since she would put all the others before herself. Kyel’s arms wrapped around her as she stood and her head came to his chest. “No.” Kyel said quickly to her reply. He was having her dress made specifically for this event as they spoke, his own garments as well. “You will attend.” he whispered. “One dance is all I require,” he whispered, trying to lighten the mood.

One of his hands lifted to her hair, and he ran his fingers through some of the strands loose from the braid, “In two days you will feel much better.” he assured her, she would. Still probably like shit, but much better from now. “Until then, we will rest in bed.” He said and his hand came down to her cheek, moving her jaw up to look at him. His thumb brushed along her cheekbone, and his eyes looked over hers, he could tell even through her gaze she was exhausted. His brows intensified as he looked over her face, how could the North not see what he saw? How could anyone find someone like her dangerous. Sure her kind had evil beings, so did his kind. She was trying to save them all and they still hated her, he had once hated her. “Come, my head feels as though it might explode, I cannot imagine your pain.” he said, his hand tightly engulfing hers.

 

[peritwinkle]

“So you’re having a dress made for tonight’s feast and you did not think for a second to ask my opinion in this matter?”

Elisif leaned against the wall by the door into Kaira’s bathing room, picking at her nails. She was ready to go save the outfit - her hair had been braided and done half up with golden pins and decorated with silk flowers that looked almost real, detail which had taken her maids almost a turn of the clock to complete. There was an aura of perfume around her that reminded one of a blooming garden in the middle of spring, that whenever she leaned to peek over the door frame, sneaked its way into the bathing room.

Kaira sighed. “Kyel offered, and I decided I would let him pick something he thought would be… fitting.”

“Letting him pick!” Elisif exclaimed. “And since when is Lord Skovgaard a fashion expert?”

“Elisif,” Kaira groaned as she bent to dry her toes with a towel. The room was heated and veiled in steam, and smelled like every fragrant oil imaginable; the maids had taken her request for a scented bubble bath quite seriously, although Kaira did not mind. She wanted to look and smell her best that night, for she would be the center of attention following the battle at Hunter’s Pass. “I am sure it will be something… simple. In good taste. And if it goes wrong, I promise you I will let you pick every single one of my dresses from this day on.”

“Mm,” Elisif raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. She had a feeling it would not be something quite that simple. Knowing Kyel, he would give every coin he had to make sure he squeezed a good reaction out of her, and that she would look as important as she was to him. To them, in truth, even if the North did not see it.

Eventually, Kaira stepped out of the room, followed by a wave of steam behind her. Upon seeing Elisif, Kaira gasped and lifted the towel over her nudity. “Gods, I thought you would not be looking face first!”

“We are both women, my child,” Lady Vannbrek rolled her eyes, then went to sit on the edge of the bed as Kaira occupied the vanity seat and began brushing her wet locks. In that lighting and the setting of the room, she looked like nothing less than a Lady - from her voluptuous curves to the palor of her skin and her rosy lips. It was strange seeing her nude and vulnerable as she was, more a child than a warrior then, after the sight of her she had witnessed before she had gone into battle. Her return had not been quite as glamorous or menacing; she remembered the dried blood around her nostrils and nestled in the corner of her lips, and the way her limbs sunk lifelessly into the furs on her bed after Kyel had brought her into her room.

Was that how she was meant to live her life, the remainder of it if she did not make it past the war? And if she did, what would become of her? Sure, an awarded soldier, a renown Volur, perhaps with titles and land to her name. But would she know love and care, like she did? Would Kyel fight to keep her by his side then, too?

Adrielle was not fitting for him. Fiadh, perhaps, but she was too wild a soul, and the Northerner wanted to settle. For a moment, as she looked at Kaira’s reflection in the mirror, she imagined her dressed in the dark garments of Ironstone, with a polar fox’s fur around her neck and a crown of silver upon her head, and Elisif’s heart clenched both in joy and pain for her.

“I will go,” the woman sighed as she stood up and adjusted the folds of her silk robe over her belly. “I have not yet picked my dress and Gods know how much longer it will take me to decide. Nothing seemes to be fitting me anymore.”

“You could show up like this and still steal some glances,” Kaira smiled through the mirror, still untangling at her curls. “I will see you at the feast, Elisif.”

“Mm,” Elisif nodded and disappeared swiftly through the door.

 

[pointmango]

The feast was starting on the early winter day. The atmosphere was already well brewed to a visible haze. Two long tables were gathered at both the edges of the great room and at the front which gathered two serried crowds of human beings. Most had their attention on one another or one the tables at the food being brought forth. The exception was an excitable young man, Jon dawned a fancy dress of his own house colors. His head turned toward the doorway after Lady Vannbrek entered without her usual companion of Kaira Grimward. Still he stood on the platform, taking his place beside Fiadh and Elisif.

As usual Fiadh was in deep thoughts, it felt like over twenty persons were assembled at the rows and not one was the tall, dark and mysterious man she had spoken with just the other day. Even in the occasional deport of newcomers in the back, acting as mere spectators, no one took the dance floor despite the loud music already taking flight. “By the gods, if I knew what a bore this would be I would have taken to the pubs, perhaps shown Lord Pellitier here what the passion of gambling really is.” She smirked slightly to the man beside her.

“I know what it is,” Jon pointed out to Fiadh with a smile.

“No you do not,” she said, turning on him, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she turned, “I would bet you only know the Southern styles of play. Here in the north we have many tradesmen and travelers. They show very distant varieties of all Valerian types of play. I enjoy the striking admission of human equality when it comes to the game. I have the same odds as a barmaid, before the hand is dealt of course.” She informed him.

“Mhmmm,” Jon said with a roll of his eyes, “And I bet you are quite good at asking these tradesmen to teach you their skills after the games,” Jon winked as Fiadh hit his arm.

“Lord Pelletier, you really are no different than the other Southern Lords I have had the pleasure of meeting,” She said, knowing that would cause the pompous young man to squirm. Then she glanced towards Elisif, “Perhaps with the exception of Lord Vannbrek,” Fiadh nudged Elisif.

*

The feast had just started, but Kyel had been making sure his present to her was pristinely wrapped and ready for her to wear. His own outfit was quite regal, and she would come to find out it nearly resembled his in colors, styles and tones. The journey to her room was intentional, and he made sure no one but him would be there awaiting her. He paused by the upper courtyard window, the sky was darkening, any gleams of sunshine were gone, and a melancholy feel of the winter had taken over. Any leaves or pines left on the trees were shivering alongside any exposed grass. Portions of the ground and peaks were covered with snow and ice.

He carried the large box beneath his arm and continued on to her chambers, knocking only once before letting himself inside of her room. “I’m sorry, forgive me for my timing,” He said to her as he walked with a steady and strong walk, his eyes already attempting to imagine the dress on her… or beside her on the bed, him having stripped it from her being after the feast. He then pointed to a blackened oak stained wooden box, it was bound with a red leather, now looking at it upon her bed, he realized his wrappings may have not been the most feminine. He bent slightly, and he undid the straps on the box and swung the lid open, his eyes lifted to hers a moment as he pulled the dress from it’s large box holding it up for her.

The dress was an elegant dark color of black matching his own attire. The sleeves and blouse were vaguely of a gypsy cut, and there were accents of silver and even ruby red flecked within. The skirt was long and elegant, the edges had a burnt satin effect where the hem ended in the front just above the ankle, the back draping slightly. A spidery black lace bodice consummated the ensemble.

“I want to escort you to the feast. I still do not trust that another wouldn’t put you in harm's way given a good enough endowment or reason.” he informed her, trying not to reveal he felt she was all he truly had left beside his country.