OfHoloceneMuses

"Lady Tanwen, Keeper Terril has already been summoned to deal with this issue. You have more pressing matters to attend to," Estienne drawled, a protest he suspected would go mostly ignored. "You are an apprentice, this is no place for you." Besides, if he had to risk his neck to protect her from a fucking dragon—again, damn the girl—then he was going to be more than a little bit annoyed.

It was always the same with him. Wherever she found trouble, he was never far behind. Forever muttering his disapproval. Though in truth, his complaints were simply another way of ensuring she lived long enough to ignore the next one.

In that moment Ella been the closest to alright she'd been in years. She'd finally found peace that she wasn't meant to be with Tristian and if he wanted to be dead to her, than she'd treat him as such. So she'd accepted the proposal from Sir Micah.

Yet the wall she'd carefully built shook, when she'd turned her head and found herself in the same room as the man who broke her heart. She'd turned around quickly to her her cousin, "Did you know he'd be here?" Ella did not need a response from the look on his face, "You're unbelievable," he knew how Tristian broke her heart. Having to watch as all her friends and family received letters from their loved ones and she'd gotten nothing after a few months. Yet she still wrote till it dawned on her he didn't care.

His jaw tightened. It certainly wasn't the reaction he expected from a woman who'd cast him aside for another. Without any ceremony, he passed his untouched whiskey to a nearby servant and made his way out after her.

“I must admit…” He began, his voice cutting cleanly through the silence as he stepped onto the balcony. “I'd imagined our first meeting after all these years rather differently.”

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” He muttered, though there was less bite behind it now. He held her gaze a moment longer before he stepped back from Rhine at last. "Do not make me regret this." Without another word, he turned and strode toward his own horse. He swung himseld into the saddle before lifting two fingers to his lips. A sharp whistle cut through the chaos, and almost immediately a handful of his men broke formation. Bloodied, breathing hard, weapons still drawn. They looked to him for instruction.

Her hold on the reins loosened, and one hand reached down to take Aden's. "I make this bargain on our behalf. I was promised to you to stave off a war. Don't launch us immediately into one. Especially without an heir of your own."

“You’ve a talent for turning everything into a negotiation.” His dark eyes lifted back to her. The infuriating thing was she wasn’t wrong. Should Beryl die before they were wed, all manner of chaos would ensue. “Your brother has spent the half the day proving he hasn’t the good sense to stop, and yet you still want me to ride out with you to reason with him?” He’d have much better luck reasoning with his horse, that he was sure of.

He passed her the flask once more before rising to his feet. The night was closing in, all was quiet save for the distant hoot of a tawny owl hidden amongst the trees. He reached for a blanket tucked away upon his horse, and brought it to her, draping it across her shoulders.

"My brother doesn't think," Deva responded dryly. "He acts. I like to believe that you're better than he is in that way. If all you do is act without thinking through the repercussions, then I've been handed from one fool to the next."

She didn't look away from him for a moment, not missing the shift in his expression. This was a fine line, and conversations like this were so often more dangerous than an actual blade. War wasn't her strong suit, politics were, but wielding politics against her future husband was a more complicated thing than she'd like.

His gaze drifted past her towards the ongoing skirmish. Beryl’s men were holding their own, for now. Aden’s jaw tightened. His own men were no strangers to bloodshed. One word from him and the tide would turn. It would be quick, brutal and final. But her words lingered. Blood for blood. No war. Gods, he hated that she had a point.

"Locked gates?" Deva chuckled at that, leaning forward to run a hand over Rhine's neck. "The same gates in which I learned to be everything that I am? Why do you say that with such distain?

"Do you really believe my brother has that kind of control over me, Aden? Or is it that you're afraid he's more capable of convincing me to behave than you are?"

“Some righteous campaign?” He repeated, voice laced with evident mockery. “Is that what we’re calling armed men riding across my border onto my lands and spilling the blood of my men? Perhaps that dear brother of yours should have considered the consequences before he decided to invade my territory.”

He could feel the heat of his anger creeping up his neck. The arrogance of her words, the audacity of her brother’s actions, it riled him something fierce. The agreement had already been made, and yet Beryl had decided none of that mattered. He’d decided that if he spilled enough blood he could simply take back what’d slipped through his fingers, as if Aden would simply stand aside and allow him to.

A humourless smile touched the corner of Aden’s mouth.

it happened almost in slow motion, the angry man running with intent to kill fergus. the way fergus' blade was too far. mind blank, fiona speedily stepped in front of fergus. she remembered his words from moments ago to wait until the attacker was close. it was absolutely terrifying to see the man running at them.

eyes wide, fiona struck the man in the ribs before he could get too close. it took more effort than she thought it would. while he groaned, fiona brought up her knife and slashed it across his throat.

she stepped back shakily, bumping into fergus. she'd just killed someone. she blinked, trying to calm herself down. this was not the time or place to rethink her actions.

“Fiona.” His voice came lower this time, firmer. His grip on her arm tightened ever so slightly. “Ye did what ye had to.” He said it without any hesitation. “He would’ve killed us both.”

A figure moved in the trees beyond them. Fergus shifted immediately, pulling Fiona closer to his side as he brought his blade back up. But the shape vanished again into the chaos. Defeated.

“We cannae stop here.” He muttered, though his eyes flicked once more toward the body at their feet, then back to her face.

She suspected someone had ratted her out.

Still, her blonde hair was braided tightly along her scalp, protecting her head from the press of the helmet that she wore. She'd taken precautions for her own safety. She'd taken a sword with her that she was perfectly capable of using. The chainmail she wore was only just too large for her, though at least it fit better than plate would have.

"And a guard would have only slowed me down. Something you seem to have figured out for yourself, judging by your lack of escort," she added with a smug smile of her own.

The fighting behind them still carried through the pass. Steel against steel. Men shouting somewhere beyond the trees. Rhine shifted again beneath her, eager to keep moving as instructed, but Aden tightened his grip on the reins once more, barely sparing the horse a glance.

“You think your brother’s going to let this go?” Aden near growled. “You think I will after all this bloodshed?”

Gods, she was infuriating. Aden’s gaze dragged over her armour, the sword at her side, the braid pulled tight against her scalp. None of it looked out of place. She was prepared for battle, prepared for bloodshed. Far from a sheltered Noblewoman, Deva knew exactly what she was doing, and that was the problem.

“That man would lock you in the highest room of his keep and throw away the key if he thought it’d keep you under his damn thumb.” Aden continued sharply. “And you’re sat here talking about letting him take you back?” He scoffed humorously. “You’re many things, Deva, but you’re no fool.”

“No.” She said suddenly, the word far sharper than she’d intended. “No, I will not change.”

She rose and stepped past Yannis, bare feet silent against the stone, her shift brushing softly at her ankles. Something had shifted in her.

“He asks…” Lysane murmured, almost to herself, her gaze fixed ahead. “Again and again… as though he expects something from me. And yet he tells me nothing, absolutely nothing!”