isolde godfrey

She didn’t mind Isolde’s touch, felt the muscles in her face relax some under her gentle fingers. “It will,” she promised, knowing without a single uncertainty that Isolde’s heart would fall in love again. She was too young, too beautiful, and too kind a young to not share herself with someone special. Someone who looked at her and recognized, appreciated exactly what they had. “I don’t worry for you, sister. You are strong, and independent. You don’t need my worry,” Arenna reasoned with a small smile, mirroring the position of Isolde’s hand and gently laying her own against her sister’s cheek. “But that doesn’t meant I don’t think of you. Every day, even when I’m busy.” Dark eyes shone brightly with the truth of her words, and with her growing affections for this woman who had found her at such an opportune time. “I always wanted a sister, you know.” This she whispered, almost as if it were a secret that Andaren might here if the slightest wind caught hold of it. “Someone to do exactly this with.” Arenna’s smile turned almost shy. “I hope you know that I’m grateful to have you now. Even if we don’t have many opportunities to enjoy sisterly things.”

It saddened Arenna to know that her sister was still hurting, and from heartache, no less. Ill advised as it was, she would never belittle what Isolde believed, or what she felt. Clearly, she’d experienced something true and deep with the girl called Rowan. Arenna didn’t know the redhead at all, couldn’t even begin to guess at what it was about the girl that had affected her sister so. But her absence now was still felt strongly, and Arenna frowned softly even as she squeezed Isolde’s hand softly with comfort and understanding. At the mention of her own love, the younger girl smiled sheepishly and shook her head. “I’ve been blessed with Keaton. I do know that,” Arenna admitted softly. “But it hasn’t been all easy, and the road to where we are now was not without its own heartbreaks.” She thought of the baby that had not even grown big enough to expand her belly, innocent in its pre-life and still made to suffer Kaeggo’s curse. Arenna frowned at the thought of it, something she did not often let her mind wander to anymore. She had many things to be grateful for, after all. Her loyal subjects, the armies and alliances that would fight alongside her. A new sister to learn and learn to love. And of course, her Keaton. “There is still so much time, so much life ahead of you. Don’t let this one girl ruin that for you.”

“Hush now, you support it just fine. By supporting me,” Arenna insisted, offering her sister’s hand another gentle and assuring squeeze. It was true that Isolde was inexperienced in their current state of affairs. War counsel meetings, politics, the constant need for the productions of weapons and armor. But her lack of contribution in those areas was understandable, and Arenna did not begrudge her that. “Personal counsel is just as important as political counsel,” she promised. Deep beneath the covers, Arenna shifted her legs, bare feet sliding closer to Isolde’s to leech some of the warmth from her. It was the sort of thing she’d longed for as a child. This sort of innocent and easy companionship. Steeling into a sibling’s bed at night when she was cold or frightened, whispering stories and secrets to one another into the wee hours of the morning. Andaren had certainly never been a viable candidate for such activities, and her mother had never granted her with a sister. But… her father had, unbeknownst to all of them. And she was here now, a sweet and beautiful reflection of the man who had raised her, and taught her the boundless reaches of love. “Tell me, how holds your heart?” This she spoke a little softer, expression sobering a little with dark brows tipped in sympathy and concern. She didn’t speak Rowan’s name, knowing that the wounds of her departure were still fresh enough to sting when prodded at. But the implication was there, and Arenna pulled Isolde’s hand in to hold it tenderly against her chest.

“Very hard,” she agreed with a small chuckle, admiring the sweetness of Isolde’s appearance, the way she snuggled further into bed. Arenna tried not to feel guilty in being here, and waking her clearly sleepy sister. The truth was, she simply had no other time to visit with her privately, without the weight of some meeting or obligation cutting their time short. “It’s a lovely way of life, I agree. I think I may have already had a taste of it with Keaton. It makes our Agarian beliefs feel a little ancient, doesn’t it?” Of course, Arenna wouldn’t trade her childhood for anything, even with her distant mother and her apathetic brother. She’d had her father, his love and his guidance, and the love of her people. Her expression softened, sobered, when Isolde seemed to imply that she was only here to placate. She wasn’t, not at all, and Arenna shook her head, squeezing Isolde’s hand in turn. “I’m catering to nothing, only my own wish to spend a little time with my sister,” she assured Isolde softly. “I am important to all that is happening here, yes. But you’re important to me.” A truth she’d come to embrace that longer Isolde was in her life… and a truth exacerbated by all that had happened recently with Keaton and her reunited family. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Arenna smiled almost bashfully, glanced down at said nightdress and nodded with a small shrug of her top shoulder. “And my cloak, too,” she corrected simply, pleased when Isolde did, in fact, push the cover of furs over her body too. Arenna shivered dramatically and sigh, shuffling just a little closer now to enjoy the warmth provided by her sister’s warmth. “Less so now, admittedly. Thank you for that,” she teased with another small smile. “But yes, it is very different. I think I’ve grown a little too used to the warm days in Etreus,” she reasoned. Her voice was still quiet, as if respecting the morning itself, and all those who still slept through it. “I’m sure it feels much colder to us than it does the Reissauians.” Arenna paused, glanced down to the small, dark space between them. Found Isolde’s hand beneath the furs and held it gently. “How are you faring?” This she asked somewhat carefully. They hadn’t spoken of Rowan since they were in the village, many days ago now. Wholly Arenna’s fault, she knew, as she hadn’t made the time for her sister that she should have. Especially in the wake of heartache. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you as much as I should be. I don’t mean to neglect you.”

It seemed her sister was not an early riser, as Arenna herself tended to be. Her mind moved too quickly with too much information, and she was certain the only reason she managed to fall asleep soundly at all was because of Keaton. The comfort of having her lover wrapped around her, and often the exhaustion that followed their frequent lovemaking. For that, she was certainly grateful. She was grateful for Isolde, too, as demonstrated by the warm and amused smile that spread across her lips now. “Good morning, sister,” she murmured, still so softly. Isolde lazily offered a corner of her furs and while the gesture was rather adorable in its sleepiness, Arenna craved more. “Do you mind if I–?” She didn’t complete the thought, instead toed the open shoes from her feet and shuffled closer to the horizontal woman. “I’m sorry for waking you, I simply didn’t feel like resisting my urge to see you before my day begins,” she explained quietly, laying out alongside her sister, though she didn’t yet move to cover herself with Isolde’s furs. Instead hoped – and lightly assumed – that her kind sister would offer them of her own accord.

“You wouldn’t be the first, I’m sure,” Arenna teased right alongside her companion, and she was certain in the truth of it. She was a teenaged princess from Agaria who had single-handedly killed the great Jarl of Etreus. A teenaged princess who now ruled with a dragonrider at her side. Many across the Four Lands who had not met her in person likely thought her to be very mad, indeed. “Oh, not just one actual dragon,” Arenna corrected the woman with a sharp grin, matching her tone of astonishment. “But two. Taivra and Thaven. They are magnificent,” she said wondrously. It didn’t matter how many times she shared their company – they were always breathtaking to witness, especially up close, as Arenna was lucky enough to. “Perhaps I can convince Keaton to fly them over the village later on this evening for you.”

She felt Isolde’s sadness in the depths of her own heart, kind and empathetic as it was. She smiled softly, sadly, to match the tone of their conversation. “I’m glad that I have helped, and that even in my reluctance to fully wrap my head around around our connection, I have not disappointed you.” Her hand gave Isolde’s a light squeeze. It was good to know that in accepting this woman into her life, she also earned her support, and her loyalty. Isolde was Agarian, through and through, but her birthplace did not blind her to the cruelty practiced by her new king. She was a woman with keen instincts and a good heart, that much Arenna was certain of. At the mention of Keaton, though, Arenna laughed softly and shook her head. “One thing you’ll learn quickly about Keaton is that does not require introductions of any kind,” she explained with a knowing grin. “One look at her upon the back of her dragon and not a soul in Othain could question her position at my side.”

Arenna realized quite suddenly that perhaps now, amidst a heart to heart with a woman she’d promised she would get to know, was not the best time to slip into leader mode. Isolde came to her in confidence, expecting sisterly support. Not the harsh questioning of the Jarlfru. As it was, she could see that her suspicion was pushing Isolde to be less than truthful herself, and it wasn’t what she wanted for their budding relationship. Arenna sighed and, without hesitation, pulled Isolde into a warm, brief embrace. “It’s noble of you to lie for the woman who possesses your heart,” she said softly, squeezing once before leaning back again. Her hands settled on Isolde’s shoulders, their gazes met. “Noble, but also ill-advised. It was insensitive of me to go there, when we were having an honest conversation about our feelings. Regardless of the legality of Rowan’s actions, I understand your moral dilemma. Like you, I would not be able to– what did you say? Ah, live with it.” She couldn’t seem to help herself when it came to affectionate gestures with this woman. Isolde’s soft looks and equally soft nature brought out the nurturing side of Arenna, and she once again laid a hand on the side of her face. “I know your heart may be hurting, but I believe you did the right thing.”

Were the situation less calling for sympathy, Arenna might have laughed at the color that rose to the woman’s cheeks in response to her own declaration. She might have reminded Isolde of exactly what she’d walked in on, the compromising position Keaton had placed her in with her back against the stable door and daring hands on her body. There were certainly fewer secrets between them now than yesterday, and Isolde’s modesty was entirely unnecessary. But she left it unspoken for now, not wishing to add to the woman’s discomfort. Isolde continued, speaking now of a diversion in morality that had Arenna’s soft smile fading, eyes growing harder. As a Jarlfru, she didn’t much like the sound of that, and already a dozen questions flittered through her mind like leaves in the wind. “I am plotting to dethrone my own brother because I cannot in good conscience condone his actions. From the moment they placed the crown on his head, he has soiled my family’s good name, and wrought havoc upon a peaceful kingdom my father, and his father before him, worked tirelessly to create.” Arenna’s expression was completely hardened now, her fingers gripping a little tighter to Isolde’s where she still held her hand between their bodies. “Do you think I would turn a blind eye if I learned my lover’s actions questioned my morality?” Keaton never would, of course, but for the sake of the argument, she made the point anyway. “What is it Rowan did to offend you so?” A dark brow crested over her eye, her suspicions rising. “Is it criminal?” If so, this was a far more serious discussion than Isolde realized.

She listened with the patience and comforting of a woman far beyond her years, but Arenna had in fact experienced far more than most girls her age. The death of a parent, a marriage, a miscarriage. All these difficult phases of her life that had passed through her so quickly, left their scars on her heart and made her stronger for them all. Empathy shone in her dark eyes like the moon’s reflection on a river’s surface, and in some regard, she could relate. When the tears gathered in Isolde’s familiar green eyes, Arenna’s hand lifted to the side of her face, thumb brushing tenderly beneath one of them. “We cannot control our hearts anymore than we can control the wind. They are powered alike by something unseen, something far greater than we can ever hope to understand. Not unlike the gods we pray to,” Arenna replied with a softness that belied her power and position. “I would never want to belittle your experiences, or pretend what you feel isn’t real. But you knew Rowan for such a short time – she was new, and inclined to your fancies. Perhaps the first of that kind for you, and that would make you quite predisposed to her… charms, we’ll say.” Arenna lightly brushed her fingers through the raven hair that fell loose from the long braid that decorated Isolde’s shoulder. “A first love can hit you like a stampede – I know that well enough.” A small smile touched her lips as she thought of Keaton, thought of the steady and tender slide into the love they cherished now. “I’m afraid I can’t offer much insight for fixing what feels broken, only that time truly does heal all wounds. You’ve found a way to live on just fine without your mother, and I’m sure she possessed a far larger piece of your heart than Rowan could have stolen in a fortnight.” Arenna sighed softly, eyes flicking back and forth between Isolde’s. She struggled not to think of her father, and how some days the ache of his loss still plagued her. But it was better now than it was at first, and would continue to get easier with each day that passed. “Why did she leave? You say she felt the same for you..?”

She could see easily enough that not all was well with Isolde, her expression troubles and features stiff. Clearly Rowan had meant a great deal to her, more so than met the eyes upon their first meeting. More than friends, perhaps? Not something anyone – even a girl with Arenna’s proclivities – would just assume without due cause. “It is personal, but I don’t mind,” Arenna answered, still brushing the sweat and dust from Danske’s hair. “I love her very much. She is my best friend, and my right hand. She is my trusted counsel, and also my lover.” This Arenna said quite frankly, as it was obvious enough what information Isolde sought and the Jarlfru was keen to give it without discretion. Hers and Keaton’s relationship was no secret, after all. “And Rowan? It seems her departure has saddened you a great deal.” Arenna finally set aside the brush, turned her attention away from Danske and instead onto the woman claiming to be her kin. Brown eyes were warm, and understanding, as she approached Isolde and gently took her hands. “She was more than just your travel companion?”

“Oh, Danske is very fond of me. I treat him like a king, unlike the widows,” Arenna said with a small laugh, pressing in against his neck with affection. The next question caught her by surprise, though, and Arenna paused a moment to consider the woman who claimed to be her sister. Isolde mentioned her companion – Rowan, yes, that was her name – in a way that made a dark brow wing up over her left eye. “What women enjoy is quite simple in theory, but rarely considered. Which I’m sure you’ve come to learn.” Isolde was, after all, a grown and beautiful woman. Yes unmarried, and here in Etreus, alone, seeking the favor a girl who may or may not have been kin. “Women enjoy being understood, and regarded with the respect they are due. While I consider Keaton to be nothing less than my destiny, I’m not disillusioned as to why we came together the way we did,” Arenna explained as she picked up a brush and began to stroke it long and lovingly over Danske’s back. “She listened to me, in a time and place where I believed I would never be heard again. I enjoyed it very much.” She paused another beat, focusing for a handful of seconds on her task at hand. Any one of the widows could have cared for Danske now, given him his post-ride treatment, but Arenna was happy to do it. He deserved the spoiling she spoke of. “Has Rowan left the village?”

The widows. Right. Arenna had briefly mentioned them, how the unmarried and childless women tended the horses and polished the weapons as needed. They’d raised Keaton, Arenna had mentioned, and Isolde wondered what had happened that led her to being raised by people other than her parents. But right now that wasn’t where her focus was. She listened intently to Arenna, who seemed to know so much more than Isolde despite their age difference. But then, she’d been married once already, and was very obviously having an affair with a beautiful woman now. She nodded in agreement-- what women enjoyed was rarely considered by men, married to them or not. She thought of Rowan, how she’d listened well enough, how she’d believed Isolde when she’d thought no one else would. Her heart gave another painful throb and she pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. It took her a moment to answer Arenna, worried that she’d start crying again. That sort of vulnerability was for sisters who were closer than they were as of yet, and she’d already embarrassed herself today. “She did, yes. Last evening,” Isolde murmured. “I don’t... I don’t think she’ll be back.” The misery of that, and of the fact she’d done this to herself, was something she’d have to live with. It hadn’t been a mistake. Their senses of morality hadn’t lined up and Isolde knew she couldn’t have lived with the idea of Rowan taking things that didn’t belong to her. But she missed her, she really missed her. “Do you love Keaton? I apologize, if it’s too personal a question.”

“They do love me,” Arenna confirmed the statement with little hesitation, but with the grace and humiliation of a truly good person. “I liberated them from a man whose ideals were impossibly old-fashioned. I gave them a choice, and they chose to follow me.” It was a bond between leader and people that was unlike most across their Four Lands, and one that Arenna had worked hard to facilitate. A bond she was immensely proud of, and would never take for granted. “And I love them in turn. I’m very pleased to hear you’re getting along well.” And she was, truly, no matter the suspicion behind this woman’s arrival or the lack of evidence she had to support her claim. Isolde had done nothing to earn her distrust thus far. She watched with a bemused little grin as Isolde allowed Danske to sniff at her fingers, his lips joining in curiously across her knuckles. “There will be a basket of apples around the corner just there, if you’d like to give him one,” Arenna suggested with a nod of her head as she removed the bit from Danske’s mouth. He chuffed favorably and shook his withers, causing Arenna to smile up at him before stroking adoringly up his long face. “It’s how I won him over, long ago now. Like any man, he enjoys being spoiled.”

Arenna was a good leader. It didn’t surprise her to hear that, as the people in Agaria had always spoken favorably of her when she’d been young and still in the castle. They’d likened her to Arthur, said she took after him, and many had been saddened when her marriage to the Jarl in the east had been announced. Isolde flinched a little as the horse lipped at her knuckles, but dutifully circled around him to grab an apple from a half full basket. She offered it to him and when he took it greedily between his teeth, it even managed to win a small smile from her. “He seems fond of you as well,” she murmured, hesitating a moment before reaching up to stroke her fingers down the opposite side of his face. “And... women?” She glanced to the side, met her sister’s gaze. “Do they enjoy being spoiled?” Her eyes returned to the horse, stared hard at her as she managed to choke out the next words. “I wasn’t... with Rowan long enough to... to find out.” The name made her heart throb and the confession made it pound, an uncomfortable combination. 

Arenna could hardly imagine life getting better than it was now. If it weren’t for the war she wished to wage upon her brother, the Jarlfru might have been perfectly content to live out her days just like this. Ruling over her moderate lands here in the East, with villages and the horse armies at her command. Enjoying the love of her people, and the love of her life – Keaton. Discussing politics with her trusted advisors in the mornings and taking long, thrilling rides upon Dankse’s back in the afternoons. Spending each night tangled in ecstasy with her best friend, her very soul mate.

But alas, there was that war. There was injustice across the kingdoms that she could not simply ignore. A good and peaceful land to the north, whose royal family was missing their first daughter and heir. A tyrannous king and queen regent in the south that needed taming. All Arenna’s responsibilities, but easily forgotten on days like these. Sat loosely upon Danke’s back with his lead in her hands and her lover at her back. A power and a freedom she had not known even in her own kingdom, as a beloved princess.

The end of their ride had found them alone at the stables, her back pressed to the wood of the wall with Keaton at her front, hands and lips alike exploring wherever they wished. Arenna knew nothing of discretion, not now that the Jarl was dead and most of the villagers knew of her powerful and loving affair with her hand. Though the eastern lands had not yet caught up with the progressive beliefs of the North, no one questions what they saw, nor questioned their Jarlfru. Arenna was a fair and truthful leader, and they cared not who she spent her time kissing. Especially when that girl commanded two dragons. 

It was incredibly inopportune timing that a voice broke the soft chorus of their ragged breathing and stammering hearts. A familiar voice that had a heat unlike desire rushing to Arenna’s cheeks as Keaton all but peeled herself off her body. “Isolde,” the Jarlfru spoke a simple greeting, though her tone was tinged with surprise and a certain distaste for the disruption. She’d quite looked forward to having Keaton between her thighs, after all, and her supposed half-sister had effectively stopped that from happening. “I’ll see at home, my heart,” she murmured in response to her lover’s farewell, meeting her kiss before pushing herself from the stable door and straightening out her riding pants. 

“It’s quite alright, you needn’t continue apologizing. It’s not like you interrupted a war counsel meeting,” Arenna dismissed the girl’s apologies with a warm smile and a wave of her hand. No, she and Keaton could pick up later where they had left off, and while she was notably… affected by her lover’s touches, it could wait. Arenna lifted a hand to her face, pressed her fingers against her cheek as if she could simply push the blush from them. Not rosy from embarrassment or shame, but heat from her arousal. “I hope mine and Keaton’s transgression doesn’t offend you. I know such relationships between women are frowned upon where we come from, but we get away with it easily enough here. The Jarlfru and the Four Lands’ only dragon rider – we are well set to do whatever we please, aren’t we?” Arenna smiled again, reaching now for Dankse to begin removing his gear. “How are you fairing here so far, Isolde?”

There was an affection here, and an intimacy Isolde was surprised to see. How had she been here the last few days and not seen the affection between them? The casual love? Even the way they parted was tender, and the comment on their shared home had Isolde blowing out a breath. She couldn’t quite figure out what feeling it was settling in her chest, but it was a mixture of good and bad and had a knot tightening around her heart. She smiled weakly when Arenna’s attention switched back to her, her hand pressing to her cheek to will away her own blush. She didn’t even realize she and Arenna shared that same gesture, too distracted by the other woman’s words to notice. “Well set,” she agreed at last, voice weak. Her fingers rubbed briefly at the back of her neck before her hands dropped together again, fingers twisting back together. “And I’m not... offended, High-- Arenna.” She walked slowly towards the gigantic horse Arenna now untacked, reluctant to help but unwilling to admit she wasn’t comfortable doing so. “I’m... faring well enough. It’s such a pretty village, and everyone seems to love you here.” She offered another weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes as she reached out to let the giant horse sniff her fingers.

She rose and dressed, her motions sluggish and habitual more than anything. There was a bit of fumbling with the unfamiliar clothing, but she managed alright. She braided her hair, tied it back with a leather strip that had been recommended to her by the merchant with the dresses. With or without Rowan, she had to move on and live her life. She still had Arenna to get to know, a village to familiarize herself with. Things to do besides pine for a woman she was fairly sure wouldn’t be coming back. Even as the thought made her heart ache, Isolde squared her shoulders and left her hut, walking with dragging feet to the longhouse where Arenna resided. It was Joorah she met on her way there, and the man pointed her back towards the stables where Arenna and Keaton had gone for an early morning ride. “If you wait around there, you might catch them as they return,” he told her, and with a quiet thank you, Isolde began the long walk in that direction.

She wasn’t fond of horses really, but more because their size and strength unsettled her. Especially these Ranaki war horses, who were massive beyond her comprehension. The old gelding she’d brought with her to this place looked minuscule in comparison, and housed as he was now in the stables, the comparison was easy to make. The smell and sound of horses did not, therefore, sooth her the way it seemed to comfort those more familiar with the beasts. Beyond the sound of horses, however, Isolde thought she heard voices, so she stepped through the open front doors to check and see if her sister had returned.

And indeed she had. The pair of them stood beside one half-groomed horse, as if they’d only ridden just the one mount. Together. A strange enough thing, that, but more telling was how she found them now-- Arenna pinned against the stall door of what she assumed was the tethered horse, Keaton pressed into her, hips to hips and breasts to breasts. And Keaton’s lips against Arenna’s neck, her hands settled at her waist. Isolde felt the heat spread instantly up her neck and into her face as her eyes went wide. Because finally she knew what Keaton was to her sister, and it was a lover. 

“I’m sorry,” she gasped out, turning away from them to afford them some privacy. “I was-- I just came to look for you, Arenna, I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought I heard voices and Joorah had said you’d gone for a ride so I figured you might have just arrived and I am so, so sorry to interrupt, please, I’ll head back and leave you to-- to--”

“Breathe,” Keaton offered from behind her. She rolled her eyes skyward and then looked back to Arenna as if to say, your sister, your problem. “I was just heading out myself, if you’d like to give Arenna a hand with Danske here.” Not altogether true, as Keaton had been planning to thoroughly ravish her pretty lover (again) before tending Danske herself, but she knew Arenna wanted to know her new sister and she didn’t want to take that bonding time away. To Arenna she said, “I’ll see you later,” her lips pressing lightly to hers again. She didn’t worry about Isolde’s judgments, as she knew very well the girl’s own proclivities. With one last look over her shoulder at the startled brunette, Keaton laughed and took off for the opposite door, disappearing through it.

“I’m sorry,” Isolde offered again, weakly now, as she heard Keaton’s steps recede. She turned sheepishly back towards Arenna, fingers twisting nervously together. “I didn’t mean for her to leave either.”