THE HERO

With the dawn, she had risen from her bed, spooning out a bowl of stew from the ever simmering cauldron that resided in her hearth and set to work. The blight reached down deep in the soil but it couldn’t hurt her now, as she underwent the joining and it coursed through her blood. Digging out the poisoned roots, she planted new seedlings and added fresh soil. With her axe, she hacked at the thicker vines and slowly the forest that had always been her home began to emerge. The sun was beginning to set and although with her werewolf eyes, she could see for miles and there was not a thing that could surprise her within the woods, she retreated to the cabin to rest for another day's hard work in the morning. Adding to the hearth, the flame turned blue, a satisfying smile upon her lips and a knock came at the door. She knew who it was long before she reached the door, flinging the wooden door open. “Alder!” She dove it for a hug, grateful to see an old friend who she hadn’t seen in many moons. Pulling back so she could appraise him, he was different, they all were. None could survive such a state of the world changing as they had and remain the same. “Please come in.” She ushered him, having repaired the old armchairs that she and her father used to relax in after a long day of tending too and harvesting Ironwood, she was grateful that her cabin had remained although dust and decay had lay claim, the bones of the old cabin remained untouched.

Alder was surprised by the greeting, but did not push her away, instead, he embraced her in his arms and patted her back gently before she pulled back. A nod of his head was his response to the invitation. "Hope I'm not disturbing your evening by coming here this late..." He spoke, wishing he'd spent less time in the city and decided to go to his main destination earlier, but then again maybe he wouldn't even have found her there - or maybe she'd be too busy to welcome him in, afterall, she seemed to be working on a lot by the looks of it all. His eyes carefully examined the room, although momentarily, absorbing the environment and taking notes of how well taken care of everything was for a place that'd been abandoned for a long time not long ago; in his mind he could only think that she was working hard, and it was admirable. "I see you've fixed the place well." He pointed out, offering her a nice smile. "Looks as if not a single day has passed since...-" That was still a sensitive subject to most of the refugees that'd come back to iskaldrik, so he didn't know how she felt about it; her father had passed during the attack, thus he wouldn't blame her if she also didn't talk about what happened. "Well, since I was here for the first time." He ended up changing the course of his sentence to something way before everything that's happened, when he came around to Skjaldwoods to keep himself away from the people, fearing he'd do something bad - when they met and when she'd play around with Lor.

For a moment, her arms fell to her side. Juneau’s hands remained balled into fists, still and useless at her sides. She wanted to continue to rage at Alder. The idea of making him feel every bit as rotten and rejected as she had felt upon his departure surged from the back of her mind, tempting, but short lived. Before, she probably would have. The influence of the Dark and its motivation to corner her to make her more pliable to His will likely would have won out. It would have directed her to punish Alder, to rail against him in violent, malicious ways. But it wasn’t there anymore pulling at the strings at her raw edges–now she was merely a woman trying to outrun the wounds of her youth with only so much fight left within her.  “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.” This was said through gritted teeth, the side of her head against Alder’s front. “You promised, and then you just abandoned me. Leaving a note doesn’t change what you did.” Juneau pushed back from his embrace (though she had remained in it for the better part of a minute) to glower up at him. Her anger over it would temper with time in his proximity, but for now it was roiling and simmering beneath her skin. "You were gone for so long. And I needed you." This last verbalizations of his transgressions against her was spoken as if from the tone and perspective of a child. Her anger was quickly backsliding into something that felt like humiliation to fall apart like this in such a public space.

Only when she pushed him away that he felt the cold that she left behind once again, reminded of the worst few nights of his journey, the first three after his departure, when he'd wake up in the middle of the night wishing to check on her, to cover her with her blanket when she'd tossed it aside in her sleep, only to find himself alone with his darkness, and those that came after the message he received in his mind, one that he was yet to find out if it were real or an illusion caused by dehydration and starvation, one created by the beast to tempt and toy with him, a message which's contents regarded the days they spent together, his lessons not only as a Vuldak but as a man who'd seen her inner fights, her demons; one that meant death, and that made him despair, afraid that the quest he'd gone to in order to reclaim his own light would be the one that took the one he already had in Juneau away from him. He chose to think of it as the tricks of the creature, turning him against himself, making him lose hope, but, deep down, he could never trully believe his mind, always scared he'd arrive too late...

Alder couldn't say anything in response because she was right, a letter meant nothing, he'd been a coward to resort to such tricks back then, all of that because he lacked the heart to leave her even though it was warranted. He didn't have an excuse, nothing would justifty doing to her what he'd promised her he'd never do, because he knew her mind better than any other, it was her greatest fear, her most painful insecurity, and he'd neglected it because he was scared he'd lose his will to go if he were to speak to her face-to-face before doing so. The older of the two deserved the unkind words of the person he'd hurt due to his actions and he did not try to avoid them in any way. "I'm sorry." He repeated himself, sincerely once more. His eyes were filled with sadness, but he wouldn't let it show in other features, he didn't deserve to feel sorrow but he did deserve the misery his thoughtless actions could lead him to. "It was never my intention to abandon you... I didn't think it would take me so long to come back... I'm not trying to justify anything, but I do owe you an explanation." If his voice cracked at some point while he spoke, he didn't notice, but it wouldn't be surprising if it did.

It pained his heart to see her that way, to watch her rage from the pointy-end of that metaphorical dagger, but he couldn't help but feel relieved that at least she was alive and breathing, that had not come too late for her, that he could still be there if she needed in a future... Not a distant one, since his days were numbered, but one nonetheless. "I heard you in my mind... I don't know if it was a dream, an illusion or...-" He sighed, not finding a word to say that, and he didn't even know why he was saying that to begin with. "I'm just glad you are fine, kiddo..." To sum it all up in a sentence, that was that. "I just hope you'll forgive me one day, as you've done once before." He stopped himself from adding anything to it, but he did want to continue... "Because you're all I have left... And I don't know how much longer I can resist this darkness.", those were words he'd keep to himself for a while, afterall, that was not the time to say them.

Most of Juneau’s scant earthly possessions were situated in drawers, shelves, under floorboards, and in the shadowy corners of Julian’s cabin in Haven. What little else she owned remained on the nearly bare shelves of her small bedroom in Jamie’s home. Even so, she felt compelled to return to the Stumble Inn upon the return from Iskaldrik. The Innkeeper would not let Juneau hear the end of it if the wily blonde never showed up to prove she was still alive, and who knew what state the garden was in after the stretch of neglect. But it wasn’t home to Juneau any longer. 

She had cleared out the few items that she and Alder had carried on their backs into Lysara from their shared room at the Stumble Inn months ago and what they had accumulated as a pair since, but she had stopped living there months ago upon returning from the Kossith ship. Alder’s scent lingered in the room, memories settled into the floorboards, but so did his absence. Juneau clung to the items that reminded her of Alder, scolding those who were too curious about them or who threatened to tarnish the memories or scents that still clung to them. 

It was not altogether uncommon during her stay at the Stumble Inn that the dim candle light would cast shadows at just the right slant that a stranger’s back appeared to her as Alder. But when she drew closer or they stepped into better lighting it never yielded anything but disappointment. She suspected her haunting of this old stomping ground this evening would be no different, thus she ignored the familiar frame in the corner of her peripheral vision for as long as she could. The surly little thief denied herself hope, reminding herself that the phantom scene of Alder had duped her many times before–she would not allow the rug to be pulled from under her now. 

But as the figure turned and she was afforded an uninterrupted view it became clear that the sense of familiarity was not the betrayal of memory or a trick of the light–Alder stood in the inn’s tavern material and real. Juneau’s expression darkened, then softened, then broke as she maintained eye contact. Without thinking, spurred on my pure reflex, her feet carried her in his direction with such conviction that her footfalls were audible to their sensitive hearing over the din of the crowd. One small fist lifted as she came within an arm’s reach, lifting and then arcing downward with a dull thud as she slammed it against his chest. And then the other hand, again and again and again as the color in her cheeks rose and her glassy eyes reflected the flicker of the candles overhead. Her assault might have broken the rib of someone lesser, but as creatures of equal constitution her fists were little more than mere annoyances–and she didn’t mean to hurt Alder regardless, but rather to display the tempest of her fury over what she perceived as being abandoned.

It had not been long since his return to Lysara, but enough for him to have traveled the Queendom in search of that one person, the family which's bond was, to him, stronger than blood. There was no place he hadn't been to, no rock left unturned, and yet he didn't find her, a scent, maybe, but always too thin for him to follow, or too mixed up with that of others for the old Vuldak to sense a clear path. Maybe that was his punishment for leaving, perhaps his last less than two decades of life as a man would be spent alone as he slowly faded from Alder Iguns to blighted monster. It was almost funny that the results of his search for light would be the decision he'd regret the most in his final moments, if not for the fact that loneliness wasn't the only feeling inside the mended heart... He was afraid.

Afraid that something had happened to Juneau, that fate had taken her from him the same way it took Lor, that his absence had left her lost, thinking that maybe he could've waited one more year, or even one more day, before his sudden departure. Deep down, he knew that this fear was irrational, born from the uneasiness and care of an old man that had for a long time forsaken himself, a symbol of his concern regarding the path which she'd choose to follow because, even deeper, he was afraid that because he was the one who taught her that she'd follow his previous steps to the edge of darkness, where light did not dare shine.

There was a part of him that entertained the thought tha maybe she just didn't want to be found, that she'd moved on, away from the memories of her old mentor, after all, he knew what she'd been through in her life, that it could've seemed like he'd done to her the same thing pained her the most, that he'd abandoned her like everyone else beforehand. Perhaps she didn't find his letter... Maybe it fell under the table or got washed away by rain that somehow got past the closed windows of the shared room... Now that he thought about it, he didn't even know if the girl knew how to read to begin with.

Alder was back to The Stumble Inn, the place in which her smell had always been stronger, led by his guilty steps that did not dare go past the main hall to that door ever since he found the room empty when he came back. His eyes stared at the stairs leading up to it, his mind lost in thoughts and sadness, not even realizing that the scent grew stronger with time until his eyes shifted towards the moving person, his body turning as the dim light showed the figure of the person he'd been looking for. He watched as she walked towards him, "is this a dream?", he wondered, maybe he'd fallen asleep at a table... No, the pain of the hits to his chest were enough proof of it. She must've felt betrayed when he left, abandoned... His arms did not stop the punches, reaching around, embracing her in a hug that held the strongest of feelings. "It's okay... I'm back." He spoke softly. "I'm sorry for leaving you..."

“You should hate me,” she cried, pawing at the tears on her face. “It’s not okay!” Her voice was small, but assured of her opinion. The tone of her voice wavered, and she made her body smaller. She wanted to get up and crawl into his lap, to be near him to soak in some type of physical comfort, but if she had tried such a thing with Ivar he would have pushed her to the ground, so she didn’t. Instead, she simply continued to argue with him with the logic and posture of a small child, as if she were regressing from the half-grown, half-wild woman he’d come to know her to be. 

Juneau was silent as he tried to apologize, and she struggled to accept it. She didn’t feel like Alder was in the wrong, she was so certain she was. But that washed away after a few moments as she turned her tearful eyes back to him and looked confused. “What do I want to do about what?”

In that moment, looking at the crying girl in front of him, he was reminded of himself, but back then he had no one to cry to, he only had himself in an empty house until his father returned and things got messy again, and again, and again... It was unfortunate that bad things happened to good people. "I would never hate you." He replied simply but firmly. It was but an honest obvious truth to him, and that was all he could say. Alder pulled his chair closer to the girl, not really knowing all too well how to defuse that situation, but doing his best to be there for her. "It really is okay, Juneau..." He tried to calm her down, but that was a new thing to him, to be fair.

His eyes were fixed on hers for a moment, but he did not reply to her question, he knew she was aware of what he meant by that. A choice he'd given and one that he wondered what she'd turn into. "We are ones who deal with bad people with our own methods... Aren't we?" That was all he would say.

“I cannot imagine the Kingdom will be able to repay you and the other volunteers as you deserve,” Ormir said, “But know that you have my gratitude.” His voice was warm, uncharacteristically soft considering the roaring atmosphere it was bottled in. An unfiltered stream of words bubbled up and out of his throat before he could stop it. “And consider me owing you a favor.” The late addition left an unpleasant aftertaste. Why would he extend himself so needlessly? Scores of Iskarans, foreigners and Legionnaires had rallied under the High King’s banner. If the Lord Hand doled out favors to each of the smallfolk who took up arms against the darkspawn chasing their own glory, he’d soon be scrubbing bedpans. A small voice argued for Alder’s distinction. He’d time and time again the Blademaster had proven his stalwartness, his unshaking commitment to the realm. He deserved to be rewarded.

Ormir stifled the smile that had broadened on his face. Luckily for him, Alder had not pressed for further details into their fumble in the mines. “To surviving.” Ormir agreed, raising his flagon of ale to match Alder’s toast. He drank, mindful of every beat that his eyes were not level to the horizon. If any more of Haven’s inhabitants got any testy ideas, he wanted to know of it.

The drinking horn clacked on the tabletop; a single, stamping hoofbeat. Curiosity boiled over, and Ormir could not live on the empty calories of speculation any longer. “Where were you?” The question had been burning in his throat since Nornwatch. It came out more fiery than he’d intended. “In all those years between our last outing and the siege. You must have been occupying yourself with a worthy cause.” There was a woundedness to his tone.

Alder drank as the other matched his toast, feeling the flavorful beer reinvigorate him, a good cold ale at the end of a stressful series of misfortunes was something he'd always appreciate. In Lysara, the Hero was conflicted, however, mixed feelings flooding his head as he tried not to think too deeply - his true face had been revealed to the Tower wizards, but they did nothing... They didn't lock him up or try to hunt him down. It was weird, especially as an Iskaran, to receive such treatment, more so when they probably knew of his circumstances. His mind was again brought back to the present moment by the question... Where was he?

"I was traveling through the Midlands, going down to the Southlands." He spoke the truth. It wasn't a secret, and neither would he keep it hidden from a friend. "You know how I earned my title... The Errant Knight..." He smiled towards The Raven-Feeder. "I try to do it once a year, you know? Travel around... Help people... Well, this time my plan was cut short by war." It was unfortunate, but he did help people as he intended, though not the way he would have preferred. "How about you?"

The taller figure nodded at the man in front of him in response to the assumption that they both cared for her, he certainly did. "I'm not sure... Why would you ask that...?" He questioned, feeling like he'd missed something now that he said that. Had her past come back to haunt her or something worse than that? Had she joined a gang? What could that man be talking about?

"Oh, well, now you've got my attention. Not to say you didn't have it before, but a drinking partner is right up my alley." As long as said person was okay with him drinking a little more than was probably needed. Maybe they'd even have to carry him home if it was a bit too much. Again though, that would be a next time thing. Still, he patted the other's shoulder and looked off towards where Lysara was waiting for them. "Stay safe there, Tek. And don't do anything that would warrant me collecting a bounty."

"So, we are to agree then," plainly mused, the barbarian had never been known for in depth retrospection or revealing deeply rooted sentiments of himself or his outwardly opinions. To put it kindly, in Lothar's sense, he thought the festival was bullshit no matter how much one could spin it was a tradition; sometimes life did not favor the cyclical churn of tradition, not when war breathed on the outskirts of this place, waiting to set ablaze another section of land under it's unyielding boot. He was pleased to hear that the Bladesmaster could agree to some extent but Lothar was scornful and he would not attempt to lower himself to the idea of falling into this trap of celebration.

He was just one person, albeit a mighty barbarian and mercenary of the guild, but he would continue to train until even an Aetherian mage would be fearful of his human strengths. "Are you asking me to dinner, Blademaster?" There's humor edged in his tone, but it's laced with respect for TEK and his accomplishments; one who earned the mark was one that Lothar could not truly be irritable towards.

A smile appeared on his calm features as the other cracked a joke at his invitation, and soon a short laugh followed. "I am asking you to a friendly meal, sure." He replied, now in a better humor than before. Being annoyed was something he rarely was, so getting rid of that emotion was something he would gladly do.

The older man could not argue with that, the Lysarans sure were too stuck up to his likings, but that was not all of them, he was sure. He'd met a few others of the Queendom before and sure did not feel judged or belittled at all in their presence, maybe it was their status as refugees doing the trick? They'd been checked by magic when they arrived and that alone had left him uncomfortable. "Lysarans are... Something else..." He agreed. "Yes, I do have a story much like yours with this place... Maybe with time they'll grow on us?"

Apologizing and thanking him until she had run out of breath, for choosing to risk himself for a group of virtual strangers for something other than duty to the Iskaran crown. Her time in Iskaldrik had taught her that people are not inherently as she had believed, but all the small acts of kindness she had seen through her time with the troupe was telling her that no matter what, they were still worth the effort. 

“I am indeed, I don’t partake on the day to day operations much, but I take care of the vineyards with my ability,” she explains, sharing his smile. “It would be my pleasure, and I will even make it on the house, for one of our rescuers,” she tells him firmly before laughing softly. “We mostly specialize in wine, and I will have to get back to you on the food, as eight years is long enough that my information might be a bit out of touch. I did enjoy the charcuterie boards, however.”

The Errant Knight did not hide his fascination towards the subject. "Ah, yes, magic and stuff, right?" He asked, taking part on the curiosity of what that was all about since he knew very little of magic in general. "I always wondered how one would know of their connection to such power...?" The old Vuldak knew for a fact that he wasn't in any way connected to magic, but it was something he wanted to know.

A short laugh left the man's mouth. "Oh, now that I know it's wine, I'll have to take you up on that offer!" Good alcohol was something he could appreciate as it was one of the only things that kept the beast inside at bay when it awaited its offerrings.

She nods, falling into step with him and relaxed at the notion of losing a few hours to company with a friend. "I decided to join in the Neptualia games on a whim, wasn't good at swimming or fighting Gladiator style. Found the temple underneath the sea first but ran into various force fields that nearly killed me and they wanted us to fight a Dracodile that was held against it's will with the nobles of Eterna holding it's eggs as a tribute gift."

"That must have been quite the adventure." It was, at least, more than what he'd done so far, as most of his time was spent doing nothings and working for the Guild. "Did you kick those nobles' asses?" He questioned. There was no doubt he would've loved to do so if they really just took the eggs from a poor creature to make it aggressive and 'entertaining'. Those were the worst kind of people really... Maybe he could get their names for another time.

“You were right,” she finally managed once he had gotten up, although she wasn’t specific about what he had been right about immediately. She turned to face him, a heaviness about her features as she placed her chin on her knee to look at him. But she only adopted this posture for a moment or two, because a few seconds later she was unlatching her arms from around her shins and lifting them to clumsily wipe the tears away from suddenly tearing eyes. “I’m sorry I said I wouldn’t forgive you,” she half-whimpered, “and that I said I never wanted to talk to you again.” He might be able to intuit what she was referring to based on what she apologized for. “I didn’t mean it,” she promised, her voice likely sounding much more reminiscent of how she might have been as a small child if there were anyone around for her to bond with enough that it would matter that she’d hurt them. If only anyone had ever loved you. 

The glass he poured her was left on the table, though she might drink it if he prompted her a few moments later. But the soup and whatever was in her glass felt unimportant–she didn’t feel like she could swallow anyway. It felt difficult just to breathe under the crushing weight of the truth he’d been right about and the anger she’d lodged against him when she insisted on clinging to the false hope she carried within her. Alder had done little but try to protect and mentor her, and she felt that maybe she ought to leave even if he had told her he didn’t want that. She was undeserving of his help and cruel when he tried to offer it, and she saw little redeemable within herself.

Now, more than ever, seeing her like that, he questioned himself on the matter. She brought them back to that day at the campsite, when she uttered those things in a moment of anger, and he never really blamed her for her words, he did overstep her boundaries, and they didn't know each other that well back then. The more she spoke, the more heartbreaking all of that seemed, but Alder didn't open his mouth until she'd let all she had to say out. "It's okay." He replied simply, his voice calm and filled with genuinity. "You've gone through too much, and it was hardly my place to tell you that..." He could recognize that now. "You didn't need more problems in your mind. I'm sorry." Honestly, that wasn't the type of conversations he was good at. Instead of wailing over all of that, however, he paused, watching her for a moment. "What do you want to do about it?" He then questioned regarding the situation between her and that other person, wondering what she had in mind.