Post by Lucius Aldarion on Nov 27, 2013 2:45:00 GMT -5
The fifth night of winter had promised to bring the season’s first great snow to the capitol- with howling winds and great gray clouds. The sudden bitter cold drove royalty and servants alike to their chambers early, and a comfortable, rare silence had settled over the halls and grounds. It was just after nightfall, and the storm outside was just beginning to worsen as Lucius Aldarion trudged up a dark upper stairwell, shedding boots and wet outer garments as he went, stiff muscles and bones creaking with complaint.
Half a year had passed since Ser Aldarion had left the Ice Castle, leading a campaign of the King’s best men to the heart of the country, to put an end to rebellion in the city of Spirit, and to try and restore the King’s rule there.
The mission would certainly be touted as a victory for His Majesties armies, an assessment that Lucius himself found- debatable. But his opinion almost certainly wouldn’t be called for. His job was to win a war, and given enough time, he could certainly do that. Even if this particular battle had been, well, lost.
He’d taken his time returning, if truth be told. He was a soldier, and he felt more comfortable at war then at home. Politics did not suit him. At the Ice Castle, nothing awaited him but politics. Politics, and a young bride he barely knew. Four days his wife when the King ordered him away, and he’d been gone far longer than the month he’d known her.
So long he’d certainly forgotten what she looked like. Pretty, he knew, and clever. Everything else, he still had to learn- as if he was meeting her for the very first time.
At the top of the stairs, he was met by the dim glow of a lantern- and the impatient topping of a foot. “Who do you expect to pick those up for you?” All that was visible in the faint light were a pair of large green eyes- reflecting like mirrors back at him. Very disapproving mirrors.
“Hello, Revan.” His own voice sounded strained to him. Tired. When had that begun? Was it new? Or had it always been this way. Had he spent so much time in silence that his own voice was foreign to him?
“We expected you this morning.” She informed him when he reached the landing, handing him a thick, dry fur cloak.
“The storm delayed us.” Lucius shrugged as he pulled the fur around his shoulders, unable to contain the smallest shiver.
“… At least you’ve returned.” The woman replied, her voice softening a bit. “You were injured, in Spirit.” They’d received infrequent updates from the city, but three months ago, they had received word that the captain had been wounded in a skirmish- the campaign was supposed to be peaceful. A show of force. “Your father and lady wife feared for you.”
At least half of that statement was a lie, but Revan had always been careful to say the right thing. The wrong thing could get you killed. “It was a minor wound. My arm- it healed.” What was another scar? He tried to be reassuring. She, at least, would have worried. “A story for another time.”
“Mira?”
“Another time.” He repeated, a bit too harshly. “… How is Lady Aldarion?”
It sounded so very wrong. A name long retired in his memories- but one he couldn’t help but say with a bit of bitterness. The name did not seem befitting for a girl as innocent and well intentioned as Lady Devon.
“The castle suits her.” Revan said lightly, turning up the stairs to lead him the rest of the way to his chambers. “She does very well at court, the courtiers adore her. She’s done a great deal to improve your reputation… Even Her Majesty the Queen has taken a liking to her.”
Lucius stopped. “Has she?” He finally replied, grinding his teeth.
“Her Majesty calls on Lady Aldarion at least once a month.” The servant affirmed with a short nod.
The knight stared at her for a moment, and then grunted before resuming his ascent, feeling unimaginably tired.
“You’ve missed supper-“ Revan followed after him, the hem of her skirts rustling as they walked. “But there is bread and cheese in your quarters. Some wine too. I’ll have a warm bath drawn for you first thing in the morning, it’s far too late now-“
“That is fine, thank you.”
“One more thing- Ser.” Lucius’ servant cleared her throat, carefully choosing her next words. “Your father thought that you may wish to spend the night with your wife. And- so very thoughtfully suggested that she stay in your quarters, instead of her own, this evening.”
“… Remind me to thank him for being so- thoughtful.”
Half a year had passed since Ser Aldarion had left the Ice Castle, leading a campaign of the King’s best men to the heart of the country, to put an end to rebellion in the city of Spirit, and to try and restore the King’s rule there.
The mission would certainly be touted as a victory for His Majesties armies, an assessment that Lucius himself found- debatable. But his opinion almost certainly wouldn’t be called for. His job was to win a war, and given enough time, he could certainly do that. Even if this particular battle had been, well, lost.
He’d taken his time returning, if truth be told. He was a soldier, and he felt more comfortable at war then at home. Politics did not suit him. At the Ice Castle, nothing awaited him but politics. Politics, and a young bride he barely knew. Four days his wife when the King ordered him away, and he’d been gone far longer than the month he’d known her.
So long he’d certainly forgotten what she looked like. Pretty, he knew, and clever. Everything else, he still had to learn- as if he was meeting her for the very first time.
At the top of the stairs, he was met by the dim glow of a lantern- and the impatient topping of a foot. “Who do you expect to pick those up for you?” All that was visible in the faint light were a pair of large green eyes- reflecting like mirrors back at him. Very disapproving mirrors.
“Hello, Revan.” His own voice sounded strained to him. Tired. When had that begun? Was it new? Or had it always been this way. Had he spent so much time in silence that his own voice was foreign to him?
“We expected you this morning.” She informed him when he reached the landing, handing him a thick, dry fur cloak.
“The storm delayed us.” Lucius shrugged as he pulled the fur around his shoulders, unable to contain the smallest shiver.
“… At least you’ve returned.” The woman replied, her voice softening a bit. “You were injured, in Spirit.” They’d received infrequent updates from the city, but three months ago, they had received word that the captain had been wounded in a skirmish- the campaign was supposed to be peaceful. A show of force. “Your father and lady wife feared for you.”
At least half of that statement was a lie, but Revan had always been careful to say the right thing. The wrong thing could get you killed. “It was a minor wound. My arm- it healed.” What was another scar? He tried to be reassuring. She, at least, would have worried. “A story for another time.”
“Mira?”
“Another time.” He repeated, a bit too harshly. “… How is Lady Aldarion?”
It sounded so very wrong. A name long retired in his memories- but one he couldn’t help but say with a bit of bitterness. The name did not seem befitting for a girl as innocent and well intentioned as Lady Devon.
“The castle suits her.” Revan said lightly, turning up the stairs to lead him the rest of the way to his chambers. “She does very well at court, the courtiers adore her. She’s done a great deal to improve your reputation… Even Her Majesty the Queen has taken a liking to her.”
Lucius stopped. “Has she?” He finally replied, grinding his teeth.
“Her Majesty calls on Lady Aldarion at least once a month.” The servant affirmed with a short nod.
The knight stared at her for a moment, and then grunted before resuming his ascent, feeling unimaginably tired.
“You’ve missed supper-“ Revan followed after him, the hem of her skirts rustling as they walked. “But there is bread and cheese in your quarters. Some wine too. I’ll have a warm bath drawn for you first thing in the morning, it’s far too late now-“
“That is fine, thank you.”
“One more thing- Ser.” Lucius’ servant cleared her throat, carefully choosing her next words. “Your father thought that you may wish to spend the night with your wife. And- so very thoughtfully suggested that she stay in your quarters, instead of her own, this evening.”
“… Remind me to thank him for being so- thoughtful.”