your friendly neighborhood whirl stan

“Be prepared,” Elias’s mother ordered. She stood tall and proud, her hands clasped neatly behind her back and her posture immaculate even through the thick bulk of her coat. “It will be a difficult journey.”

 Her dark gaze didn’t waver. Elias nodded, wringing his hands behind his back. He felt almost nothing through his thick woolen gloves. 

It would take nearly three weeks to make it down to the flatlands and into the Capital. Longer, perhaps, if their single horse cart slowed them down. They were only a small party, Elias, his guardsmen Polnious, and two other footmen to aid their descent.

Behind his mother, her dark and white–frosted castle loomed, golden fires dancing in every window. Elias yearned, suddenly, to step inside just once more– to run his fingers over the richly covered tapestries insulating each walls, to race his way down winding, endless corridors, met only with the familiar, never-changing faces of his people. His family. 

It was the first time he’d ever left home. It was the first time he’d ever left his mother. 

“Oma,” he murmured, lifting his chin to meet her eye and taking care to keep his voice steady. “I’ll be strong. I’ll send word, when we arrive.” 

“You should focus on your studies, not letter writing,” she corrected. “Your brother has high expectations of you. Take care that you do not disappoint him.” 

Elias blinked away the rejection. “Yes, Oma,” he agreed. “I won’t let you down.” 

She pursed her lips, and then, with a smooth and intentional movement, bent down to adjust his hood. She pulled it tight around his face, looking him over with an expression that Elias couldn’t read. Her dark lashes were dusted with small particles of snow. 

“I’m sure you won’t,” she offered him quietly, and with that, pulled away. 

Elias let out a deep breath, watching it collect into mist in front of his face. Polnious placed a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It was time to go. 

The thick spikes under his boots cracked the thin coating of ice present on each step leading towards the ground. His mother and a few more figures remained by the doors as the parting group gathered, checking over their supplies and tying over the tarp from their cart. 

“Up you go, then,” Polnious said, and lifted Elias up onto the front seat of the cart. He headed around to the other side, and Elias chanced one more look towards the castle, where his mother lingered. Her long hair, normally twisted into a tight braid, flowed freely in the wind. Elias wished he had thought to pull tight her hood as well. It was too late. Polnious, with a snap of the reins, began to pull them into the dimmed embrace of the tall, lumbering pines. 

It was moments before the castle was out of sight. 

Elias blinked furiously, dropping his head and forcing down the growing lump in his throat. 

“Hey,” Polnious murmured from beside him. Elias didn’t dare lift his gaze, but from his peripheral, spotted the man rummaging in the interior pocket of his coat. “Here,” he said finally, holding out something in the midst of his green glove. 

Elias reached out cautiously, and pulled out a ornate black–glass knife. 

The handle was a carved wood, symbols of wolves and pines and fire on the sides. The dark grain extended up, the black, night–like material emerging from it like a tree from jagged rocks. Elias pulled off one of his gloves, ignoring the biting chill, and traced a finger on it’s edge– almost scalloped, in the way it dipped and rose, but razor sharp. His cheeks pinked. 

“From the Lady,” Polnious explained softly. “She asked me to give it to you.”