OfHoloceneMuses

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!”

“It’s nae an easy thing to explain...” He said lowly, his jaw tightening. “Where I come from we dinnae leave folk to die once we’ve taken their side. Call it what ye like. Stubbornness, honour, oath. Whatever pleases ye.”

“I will speak to the King shortly.” She replied, her voice soft, but commanding. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, allowing Yannis to start preparing her for the day ahead. Lysane drew in a slow breath. “And no, I’m in no need of a tonic. It is not rest that troubles me.”

“Stubborn as hell you are.” He muttered. He didn’t miss the way she mirrorred him, the way her hands found the same marks he’d shown her, despite everything.

Another man rushed towards them, his blade raised high in anger. Fergus stepped in once more, but his angle was wrong. He couldn’t reach in time.

She took the flask with a small smile, her gaze flickering back towards Fergus. "Thank you. And thank you...for saving me. I'm not sure how I can ever repay you." Nor did she know what she would do next - how long would hr tolerate her company?

“Ye can start by not talkin’ like ye owe me a debt.” He said at last. His voice was far quieter now. “I did what any decent man would’ve done. As for what comes next, that’s for you to decide. I’ve a road to follow come mornin’, but I’m no’ in the habit of leavin’ folk to fend for themselves if they’ve nowhere else to go. That's for sure."

"Majesty, you must wake up."

"Is something amiss, Yannis?" She said, lifting herself upright in her bed.

She still hardly believed she was free. How would she ever repay Fergus?

“Aye…” He murmured at last. “The nights have a way of stretchin’ after things like that.” He turned the flask once in his hands, then offered it to her without any ceremony. “Just water. I find it helps, even when sleep willnae come.”