My Last Amen

[Meraki]

Fira hated to hear it. Even if it has to come at the expense of a horse. She could understand, really she could, because she (being the Princess and rightful heir to the crown of Rhielith) was their last hope. Without her, there was no real legitimate heir and the Kingdom would continue to fall under Peter's rule. It had already and Fira could see it even moving through Calliope's town on their way out. People were suffering and the truth was Peter did not care. He solely cared about strengthening his power and acquiring other kingdoms. Expansion was necessary, of course, but it could not come at the cost of the people already living there. How could a King presume to pay for the wellbeing of another hundred thousand people if he could not first care for his own?

But Peter was lucky, the army of Rhielith was fiercely loyal to whomever paid them. The people, however, had been plenty vocal about their dislike for her father and they were not quiet about Peter either — though they did what they had to do to remain unheard by the patrols. She was the Princess and she had to be protected. At the end of all of this, no one would step up to that throne except for her.

At the same time, Fira knew that the Princess of Rhielith and Fira were two separate entities that occupied the same space. She had to understand that getting the Princess to the throne was the heart of the mission. It always had been. Fira never once dared question that, but sometimes it felt a bit unsettling because she was still very much in the process of trusting her own heart.

The only reason she had come so far was because of Amadeus. When he had found her in that brush, nearly dead, she had all but given up and he reminded her of who she truly was. Not just a princess, but strong and fiercely intelligent, loving almost to a fault. When her father passed, he was the only one there, and through trusting him she began to trust herself.

He was the one good judgment call she had ever made.

"I know it may not be possible, but you know I would prefer for the horses to make the journey as well," Fira admitted, though it wasn't necessary. Amadeus knew her heart better than most. Their horses moved on, each one of the steps landing on Fira's anxiety as she worried about the horses' wellbeing and their wellbeing. The last thing she wanted was for them to be horseless in a land where Peter's men ran rampant.

"It clears up ahead for a short stretch, perhaps three to four miles," the messenger called back, "This is the worst of it, this and just before the Duke's estate."

Fira nodded and glanced back up at Amadeus before running a comforting hand against the neck of her horse. For such a short distance, it would certainly be a long journey for all of them. Even without Peter's men — assuming they were not dispersed a bit into the path.

 

[Nav]

Amadeus was Amadeus was Amadeus.

He had always been Amadeus—a single, slightly solitary man who cared more for horses than he did for most people. No matter what he was doing, whether it was tending to a stable or helping Fira along her journey, he was the same person. Reliable as a bird's annual migration and as steady and unfazed by events around him as a rock at the bed of a raging river. To most people, he might as well paint himself brown and join the trees in the woodland for all the attention he commanded. People just seemed to have a tendency to overlook Amadeus—perhaps because he wasn't really remarkable in any way that was grand or flashy. He could quiet a distressed horse, or even train the most untamed one, but he was unremarkable in almost every other way.

He wasn't a royal fighting for his life against a deranged relative, or a messenger risking his life to deliver the royal to a Duke. Instead, he was just kind of tagging along—a silly boy with a sharp sword and a good horse. At the thought, he yawned rather lazily, discovering he was suddenly growing rather tired with the ride.

The countryside stretched before them like a great quit of golden, brown, and green squares held together by the thick green stitching of hedgerows. It rose and fell in the dramatic rocky landscape and was dotted with small animals. Occasionally there was a wood that separated the fields, or a farmhouse, or a barn. Amadeus could see his whole day mapped out before him, rambling through pastures and over stiles. As they walked, Bo would reach out and snip a few leaves off trees as they passed under them, munching noisily as they walked.

"We should rest the horses for five minutes in that clearing. Five minutes is a short time to spare to keep them well for the rest of the hike." Sweat was growing in patches across Bo's neck and shoulders as he worked to get up and go down the hills and ravines. The rocks were slick below his feet, and the feet of the other horses, leaving them to work hard for every step they took. Five minutes would make a difference when it came to the matter of whether or not they'd be captured by Peter's men. If they were only five, or ten, minutes away—they'd be caught, either resting the horses or at the duke's estate.

The messenger hadn't seemed very keen on reserving the horses, but thinking on it, he decided he'd rather have slightly rested horses when they reached the Duke's estate than not. After all, the duke could very well escort them out at any time—without interest in Fira's plea, and if that happened, they'd be pushing exhausted horses. Exhausted horses often led to injured or lame horses.

 

[Meraki]

Despite the situation, Fira quite liked looking out over the rolling fields of the Kingdom.

It was hard to fully comprehend how sheltered she had been her entire life and so there was always a sense of wonder in her eyes. The world could have been burning, a hellish nightmare, and she would still find something worth fawning over. The image was cold, the grass not a vibrant green but the kind of lighter green that reminded her of the coming frost. The trees were losing their leaves, the pine's stretching more prominent against the horizon, and she tried to remember the few times her father had taken her out in the snow. It was his favorite time of year.

He used to say that the snow gave the world a new beginning. It covered up the dying fall and prepared for the bright and vibrant spring that would bloom. There was one memory in particular of her father playing with snowballs, tossing them at his children, and Peter had looked so displeased but it was one of the few moments Fira could remember his warmth — even in the desolate cold of the winter.

We should rest the horses for five minutes.

Amadeus' voice pulled her out of her thoughts and immediately she nodded. No one knew horses like Amadeus did and she was not about to question his council. "You're right, let's," Fira agreed, just audibly enough that the messenger glanced back at them and seemed to mentally weigh the options before realizing he was questioning a queen. "O-Of course," he nodded, "But five minutes."

As they came upon the clearing, Fira took the liberty of dismounting and stretching her own limbs. She had grown accustomed to the harsh conditions on their way to Calliope's, but she had been rather pampered the last week and it took a bit to get back into the long rides. Her muscles were tense and she was sure they would be painful in the morning, but it would pass. Nothing she endured out in the cold elements would ever come close to the pain she felt having that wound on her abdomen cauterized.

"Have you ever been out this way before?" Fira asked Amadeus, knowing that he would sometimes take trips with his father when he was young.

 

[Nav]

Winter had always been hard for him, for as long as he could remember. Snow was not enjoyable to impoverished children. All snow represented to Amadeus, and people like him, was struggle. It meant long, cold nights trying to sleep with not enough warmth, it meant disease and illness, it meant little food. In the warmer months, even under a tough rule, the people of Inverness had survived well enough. The Earth had always been incredibly giving by gracing them with vegetables, fruits, and fresh water, but all of that went away in winter… even water became a commodity as the rivers often froze hard and deep and those that didn't posed a hypothermic risk anytime someone tried to fetch water from them.

Amadeus hated winter for it, for all it had ever taken away from him, and he could honestly say he held no joy when it came to the cold. It made him somber and sullen, even now when the last warmth of summer still clung on to the air. He was riding a stride behind Fira with a certain darkness brewing behind his eyes. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant so much as it was a bit aloof.

When Fira agreed they should rest the horses, and the messenger hesitantly bowed to her whims, Amadeus pulled Bo to a halt and slid from his back. Streams were flowing from the tops of the mountains down the sides like veins, spotting the landscapes with small lines of silver—as the water gleefully reflected the greying light overhead. Gathering up the reins of all three horses, Amadeus slipped away from Fira and the messenger and led the horses to one of the streams, but true to the homage you can lead a horse to water… only Bo and Fira's mare dunked their noses under the surface.

"Hm?" Amadeus glanced back at her question, "Never out this way, no. I was supposed to a few times, but things came up as the often do, so this is the first time I've been out this way. Last time I travelled out this direction, I was farther North—up towards Saurleith but mmm… that was all quite a long time ago. My father and I used to purposely avoid this particular trail because it cuts so dramatically through the ranges. There are longer routes we used to take, mostly. They were longer, but they were less taxing on the horses. This kind of riding adds up on horses, you know?" he gave a shrug and patted Bo's shoulder, "Ride them hard like this often and they break down quicker, die younger."

"I guess I'd rather keep my horse a little longer and spend an extra day on a trail then push them too hard, you know? But sometimes, like now, it's unavoidable." He turned away from the stream, handing Fira back her horse's reins.

"I think our five minutes is almost up."

 

[Meraki]

"I can see why you avoided it," Fira agreed, patting her horse affectionately as if to apologize for the difficulty of the trail. The last thing she wanted to do was lose anyone else — human or horse — and it certainly tugged down on her morality a bit. She wanted everyone to be okay, that was just it — plain and simple. tHe only time she had ever felt that anger was when she thought of Peter and all he had done. But it was not even because he had tried to kill her, but instead because he had harmed the people closest to her.

And would continue to do so until she did something about it.

Fira nodded when he beckoned her back to begin again. As they rode for the rest of the day, Fira just thought of how different things felt now. That morning they had been tangled up lovingly underneath a duvet, appreciating one another with loving looks and stolen pecks. She never thought the happiness would fade so fast and now all she felt was cold all around her. In the air, between them, and she wondered if this was what the future held. She already missed Amadeus, her Amadeus, and she missed being herself.

She missed being free and teasing one another. Shem missed her red hair and the warmth of the world they had been in the last few days. It was funny how much changed — as she had missed mostly material things when she fled the castle like baths and food — but now she could not help but miss the people in her life. Even with Amadeus beside her, she just wanted to reach out and feel him there.

But it was inappropriate in front of the messenger and since this morning he had seemed to shut back down into the strength, the steady protector by her side. She missed his smile.

She missed it quite terribly.

"Hm?" Fira's head snapped around as her ears picked up on the slightest little crack of brush below them as they had evened out to a bit of an overgrown path. Immediately, her hand went for her bow and before she could pull it, she felt an uncomfortable breeze whip past her face and thunk into the tree just beyond her. It missed by maybe an inch.

An arrow.

She drew the bow and glanced back at her traveling companions with a questioning look. The hooves she heard now were two, maybe three, horses and she knew they could take them on — depending on who it was. Two bandits were different than three of Peter's men.

And she felt a bit of fear grip her throat.

 

[Nav]

What he hated most about that particular trail, and why he and his father had avoided it most religiously, was not because the terrain was rough on the horses. Sure, if they could find a way that was safer and better for them, it was usually the option they would select, but there was more to it than that. The rough, stone terrain made it difficult to hear over the sound of their own troupe, with the footfalls of their three horses all but blotting out any other sound around them. He could strain his ears all day if he wanted and still wouldn't be able to hear much aside from Bo's hooves scraping against the rock and the occasional crackle of stone against stone as he stumbled and scrambled for his footing.

That didn't stop him from trying though. His ears did what they could and his eyes never stopped wandering their surroundings—a serious man with a serious frown who had all but rolled off a soldier-making assembly line. Rather suddenly, he was not the warm, generous man who had had breakfast in the garden—but the kind of soldier who had been all but born with a weapon in his hand, like he had never truly be a baby or a child. His face was about as pliable as his mother's unleavened bread with the same toasted pallor. The sound of a bow being drawn had been lost on him in the scramble of his horse's feet, but the whistling of an arrow through the air was unmistakable.

By the time the arrowhead had sunk into the wood with a thump, Amadeus had drawn his bow and pulled the string tight, levelling his own arrow with the source of the sound. His eyes narrowed and focused, but the foliage was too dense for him to make out any kind of picture. The messenger had continued moving until he had noticed both Fira and Amadeus had halted their horses—he looked as though he was just about to ask what the holdup was when he finally made sense of what was going on. His hand darted for his sword, but he looked about as coordinated with it as a toddler would have been.

But Amadeus' attention wasn't on the messenger.

"Should we run?" the messenger hissed out, "I'm pretty sure we should run."

Amadeus' gaze didn't flicker, but the corners of his lips flinched. They could try and run, he thought, but the horses wouldn't be able to run fast nor far on the kind of rocky terrain they were covering. Plus, if one of them took a wrong step it would spell a broken leg. "Shh," Amadeus barely murmured back in response. He couldn't honestly afford to be anymore distracted by anyone, let alone the messenger.

 

[Meraki]

Fira put her finger up to her lips to show the messenger to be silent. Amadeus was in his zone, his features hardened, and Fira needed the quiet. She needed to focus on where the sound was coming from. As much as others wanted to protect her, she also made a point to protect herself, and she would not be caught off guard — not if she could help it. Luckily, Fira knew that no matter who it was, it would be a fight man to man (or woman), considering the terrain. Any horse would struggle, even if it was a group of Peter's men. The foliage was dense, but Fira saw just the tiniest bit of movement and drew her bowstring taut — but she did not fire.

She would not give up their location.

She could feel the unfamiliar muscles in her back tense. She had almost forgotten how hard she had trained after Amadeus had gone and she certainly was doing a bit more manual labor as of late. The bowstring was easier to pull, less taxing on her now slightly callused fingers. "We should run, Your Majes—"

Fira could have killed him where he sat, as the moment the words came from his lips, so did a few arrows shooting off and clipping the trees. One clipped the back of his horse's neck and the horse immediately reacted, giving away their position. "Shit," Fira muttered to herself, aiming at the figures that rode closer in the thickness of the bushes. Fira let a single arrow fly, the sound echoing as it sickeningly sunk into flesh and Fira first heard and then saw a man stumble from atop his horse and his hand fall through the density of the foliage.

A royal seal on his arm.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

There were three of them, maybe four, now that she could better make out the sound of the movement. They were approaching fast, the sound of metal drawn and arrows continuing to fly from one or two bows. "Move!" Fira near snapped at the messenger as he whipped his head around to just look at her. "Now!"

Lo and behold, the moment he lost his attention and looked to Fira, an arrow sunk itself into the front shoulder of his horse. Bucking back, he was thrown down to the rocks and uneven terrain, hitting it with an unsettling sound before rolling off and trying to help himself up. He was lucky he was not dead, but there was certainly blood on his clothing. He had his sword in one hand and Fira's eyes flickered to Amadeus' for a moment.

Just before the men broke through the foliage.

 

[Nav]

It all happened quick; it always did.

A beat behind Fira's arrow, Amadeus' slipped free from between his fingers and caused his bow's string to sing like a harp as it snapped and vibrated. The arrow found itself sunken into the neck of one of the horses, causing Amadeus to cuss quietly to himself and murmur a small amen for forgiveness. He hated killing animals—regardless of whether or not their saddles bore a royal seal or a friendly one, because they had no sense of war. They did what their masters told them and fought not for a side, not for a king, not for anything except for the mere fact that their masters asked them to do so… so Amadeus couldn't help but feel a twitch in his chest hearing the horse wail out in a pained whinny followed by a thud as the animal's body fell and thrashed against the forest floor.

It did not get back up.

Meanwhile, Bo stood like a statue below him. His ears were pinned back and his head risen so high that occasionally he brought his front feet several inches off the ground, but his back feet remained anchored in the rock where he stood… not moving until given the order to do so. Amadeus hastily drew another arrow and aimed, but lost his focus at the sound of Fira's voice, glancing over just in time to watch another horse get hit. His frown deepened. The messenger tumbled end over end, landing at the bottom of a shallow rocky ravine with his horse wrestling in the rocks—having flipped himself over after the arrow had hit him. Just like the arrow Amadeus had shot, the horse did not get up again, but thrashed and bleated painfully. It was a terrible noise.

Without even questioning it, Amadeus had unsat himself from Bo's saddle and directed the big grey towards the messenger. "Take him and go! You do not belong here. You will merely get in the way." His words were probably harsher than they needed to be, said with a certain venom in his tone that was almost foreign on Amadeus' tongue, but the messenger would just serve as a distraction to get all three of them killed. "Wait three miles or so up the path."

There was no time for questioning or debate, and Amadeus' harsh tone left little room for argument as he pulled his bowstring tight once more and turned so he was facing the foliage that had been broken apart by the men wearing royal seals emblazoned across their chests… the same seal Amadeus would have worn proudly as a soldier had he taken a different route in life, but now was nothing more than a bright colored target for him to aim his arrow.

Exhaling a breath, the arrow snapped free from between his fingers—finding the seal of one soldier as return fire sent an arrow so close to his head it very well nearly gave him a haircut.

It reminded him, at a rather poor time as he reached for another arrow, that he should probably get a haircut when they reached the Duke's estate.

 

[Meraki]

"But, I—"

"Go!" It was the most commanding Fira had ever sounded in her life and she certainly understood his hesitation. All he knew was that he was riding with royalty, but he did not understand that Fira was more than capable of holding her own when necessary. Amadeus had taught her enough to ensure that, certainly. With Bo in hand, he mounted and took off away from the fight to where Amadeus had instructed. So much for worrying about losing a horse to terrain, now they were down to two, and with the messenger gone they only had one left.

Fira thought about dismounting for a moment but the higher the ground the better and she drew her arrow back in defense, letting a few shoot off but a few were faster than she anticipated. She watched and arrow sink into the chest of a man, one arrow almost take off Amadeus' head, and Fira felt her body kick into overdrive. The adrenaline coursed through her veins and she fought her way through, taking out who she could when she could.

Fira turned with just enough time to just be missed by an arrow coming from behind. It seemed that two more were riding up on them and Fira took her mare's reins and made sure that between Amadeus and Fira, neither of their backs were vulnerable. She shot off one, two, but her mare was not nearly as calm as Bo and she bucked up a few times at the flurry of arrows hitting the rough terrain by them. Fira held on, shifting her weight so she did not go flying, but it meant she had to take a moment to calm her before pulling another arrow.

She was fast, but they were quite outnumbered. Fira felt the all too familiar sting of an arrow as it sliced against her thigh, but she did not move to touch the shallow wound, instead she kept herself steady and shot off two arrows in succession, each on burying itself in the chest of the man who had shot at her. If any one of them got back to Peter — Fira shook her head at the thought and focused. She never wanted to kill, but it was a decision she had to make.

She needed to survive to help her people. These men could not make it back to Peter if she was to ensure the safety of everyone. The moment he caught wind of her — it would be a massacre until she was found. The moment the messenger revealed who she was, their fate was sealed.

There was a clean slice on her leg and it bled, but it was certainly nowhere near life threatening — just a pretty significant graze. The fabric could be stitched easily, but she moved her cloak over it to hide the bit of blood that had stained the fabric and pulled her bow again. They just needed to get to the Duke's estate and they certainly could not do that while being pursued by soldiers. They were well armed, but Amadeus and Fira were deadly accurate together and made for one hell of a team.

 

[Nav]

Distance weapons are a way of cheating emotions that come with taking the life of another.

He remember the exact moment his father had said those words. Amadeus had only been seven… maybe eight, and he had been up on the balance beam with a wooden sword in one hand while the two wooden logs swung back and forth trying to catch and swipe him off his feet. He had begged his father all afternoon to let him start training on a bow, but his father declined… and continued to do so until he had been nearly ten. All the while, he had trained with every handheld weapon under the sun—axe, knife, blade, sword, spear, club… the list went on until not a single one had felt uncomfortable or unfamiliar in his hand.

In life, you will end up taking the lives of others. Before you detach yourself from the act of killing a man, you must understand what it is like to truly kill a man, you must first understand what it is like to be close enough to a murdered man to watch his pupils explode to fill the entirety of his eye when he dies.

Bows were always easier. They were safer; they detached him from the kill, but even so, it had always been his least favorite part—the moment when his fingers opened from the bow string and the bow slung with whistled accuracy to its target. It was a necessary chore rather than any kind of pleasure.

The term 'murderer' had been reserved for psychopaths. If the killing was done for means of survival or war, no one thought less of you. Killing for self-defense was just a given, killing for resources a grey area, and killing for pleasure a sin… but Amadeus had never done that before, never wanted to, but who was he to judge? Two arrows, two more bodies. His reflexed moved with ease and grace, poorly aimed arrows whizzing past him and not a single one striking flesh. One more arrow, one more body, and like that, Amadeus' side had been cleared.

"How you doing back there, Fi?" he asked, tilting his head back over his shoulder towards Fira but still not turning around just in case another wave came from his direction. He glanced ahead one more time, noting one of the arrows that had missed its target because it sank into the soil between his feet. No wonder they were aiming so poorly, he thought to himself. The arrows had been constructed terrible—the bodies were not nearly as straight as they ought to have been and the arrowheads looked poorly balanced in relevance to the tail. Not even Amadeus could have hit a damn target five feet in front of him with an arrow like that.

It could only mean that Peter was pumping out soldiers, equipment, and weapons as fast as he could—regardless of the quality. Thankfully, it was probably the poorly constructed arrows that had saved both their lives.

 

[Meraki]

Fira let a series of arrows fly, saving her resources where she could, and like flies they dropped to the ground. In a few moments, she had her side cleared and though she did not let herself relax yet, she brought her hand down to touch the bit of blood on her trousers. Hardly life threatening, just annoying. At Amadeus' words, Fira let out a bit of an amused chuckle, "I don't know what you were talking about when you said I was getting rusty with a bow."

It was a warm, teasing comment but it helped to ease the discomfort she felt from looking at the dead bodies on the ground. Bodies that she had taken the life from. She knew that she could not get personal with it, but they were still men that she killed and she had to process that — and she would, in time. She hoped it never got easy. She hoped that she would have to face the death she caused because it was what was right. "What we need to work on is the dodging," she sucked in a bit of breath as her fingers traced over her thigh, "I am entirely too sick of being reminded how an arrow feels."

She glanced p at her words, looking to scan and ensure that they were actually alone. They were, but she knew they would need to start moving sooner rather than later. She moved to dismount for a moment, little shockwaves rippling through her thigh as she landed and stepped towards one of the bodies. She crouched down, her hand extended, and ran her fingers over the seal. She had seen it a million times before and never thought twice about it, but now it carried a great deal of weight. This was the royal crest, the crest of her father and her grandfather — the same crest she was meant to live by. But now, it was tainted. These seals did not mean home, they signified a battle, and it caused Fira to have a bit of a reality check.

"We should go," she finally managed, pushing herself up slowly as not to irritate her wound and cause more bleeding. It would stop soon enough. "I would assume that where there are few, many follow. Lord knows the Duke's messenger should not be left alone to his own devices if his first instinct is to yell my title in front of adversaries." She smirked and walked over to her mare, giving her a loving pat before she turned to Amadeus.

"Think we can make three miles on horseback together? Or are we too heavy for such terrain?"

 

[Nav]

While Fira tried to joke a little, Amadeus remained as stone-like as ever. His gaze was cold and a bit distant, like a man that had been chiseled from marble—handsome, but aloof, lacking life, and rather stark. While he didn't laugh at her comment, he did seem to relax some, allowing the head of his bow to drop until the arrow was pointed at the dirt between his feet. There wasn't time to worry about her injury. His eyes had skirted over it once, though she had it mostly hidden behind her cloak. It probably hurt, he knew, but now was not the time to worry about such small matters when they had much larger problems looming over their heads.

"It has merely just begun," he commented idly as he watched her step over to the body, brushing her fingers across her family's royal seal that was bloodied and battered. The leather looked worn, probably from several weeks of hard riding. Below it, the men looked thin… as if they were wearing armor much too big for themselves, even though they had probably filled out their leathers when they departed the royal city. Amadeus rested a hand momentarily against his stomach, finding the familiar thinness in himself, too. He supposed the kind of travelling they were doing, and the soldiers had done, was hard on the body.

"I agree that it would be wise if we went," he agreed, pushing a hand through his hair and tossing the dark, near-black curls away from his forehead and squinting his eyes into the darkness of the forest surrounding them. "I'm sure soldiers are scouring every inch of these mountains. Come on, let's go," he said as he disengaged his bow and slid the arrow back into the quiver, but holding on to the bowpiece almost cautiously. Glancing over her mare, he gave a shrug, "You can ride, I don't mind." No point in spending a horse over a three mile hike. In terrain like this, he knew he'd have no trouble keeping pace, though he knew he was going to be exhausted by the time they reached the messenger. Unfortunately, of the three of them, Amadeus knew he was likely to be the most equipped to hiking and climbing, leaving the messenger with Bo and the princess with her mare, seeing as she needed to be rested in order to best meet with the Duke.

It was going to be a long hike, but at least most of the journey was behind them.

Pulling his cloak a little tighter around himself, he sighed, "I just hope he didn't run into trouble along the way," he mumbled idly, knowing Bo would stand like a stonewall until he died or was told to move, and something told him that the messenger wouldn't keep his wits about him well enough to urge the horse on in a frenzy. The last thing Amadeus could emotionally put up with was a dead horse and messenger, but he was hoping for the best.

 

[Meraki]

"Yeah," Fira agreed and moved to mount her mare. There was no point in arguing, as he seemed to be unmoved on the matter. His stark expression was warning enough to just continue on their way. She mounted the horse, he hand pressing against her thigh immediately to ease some of the discomfort to come from the movement. She tugged her cloak around herself and pulled the hood up over her head to conceal her braided, raven locks. "Me too," she added when he voiced his worry about Bo and the messenger. It did not seem like there was much luck on their side, but Fira had to believe that in a world full of chances they were allowed a few. After all, they had no business actually beating the Baron and Fira should not have survived Peter's attack back at the castle but she did.

The world was strange and Fira could not seem to make it make sense. When she was sheltered, everything was easy, but here they were riding off to a Duke to obtain an army. What a strange turn of events this was. The Fira that Amadeus had met as Shar would have laughed if ever told of their adventures, but now it just felt normal. This was their story. This was what they were always meant to endure.

They managed the three miles and sure enough they came upon the messenger with his sword still drawn and Bo standing steady like an oak tree. "Your—" he exclaimed, but Fira rose her hand.

"Let us drop the titles while we are in the woods, please," Fira said, her voice just exhausted from the trip, but they needed to keep moving. He nodded in understanding before he glanced back behind him. "We are closer than we appear, just up this ridge a few miles. The Duke will need us there sooner rather than later. Especially if there are soldiers this far out into the range. Are you well enough to continue?"

"Fine," Fira said with a nod of her head before turning back to Amadeus, "Are you alright? Would you like to rest or switch?"

 

[Nav]

The hike wasn't terrible, but he was tired and cold and if he opened his mouth, he knew a flood of complaints would have escaped him. In his own head, he was cussing up a storm at the way needles of pain zipped up from his heels and the balls of his feet as he clamored over the rocks next to Fira and her mount. He managed to keep his facial expression steady, knowing that no one needed to hear his whining, but it was hard not to groan internally. The cloak didn't feel like nearly enough to keep out the elements and the cold wind sliced right through him. Every pebble he stepped on felt like it was ripping apart the sole of his feet, even if it wasn't, and above all else—he was tired.

It didn't take them too long to traverse the three miles and it was with relief that his eyes met Bo. The horse's ears, slightly too small for the size of his head, pricked up as he nickered a greeting. Happily, Amadeus stepped forward and gave the horse's cheeks an affectionate rub; his boy always knew how to take care of someone, seeing as the messenger seemed in good health—though a little bit shaken from the experience and from his fall.

"Let's go then," he concluded when the messenger explained they were only a few short miles out, though there was nothing in him that believed any amount of walking would feel 'short.'

"I'm okay," he assured her, glancing up in her direction, "You two should actually ride ahead. You should get there as soon as possible and I'll be safe traveling alone. I can catch up with you two at the estate." The only objective in Amadeus' mind was to get Fira to the Duke's estate. While he didn't like the idea of her going alone, he knew that it was not his place to bend to his own nerves. Plus, Calliope would be there—and he trusted her, perhaps above most other people. She was unorthodox and maybe she harbored ill feelings towards Fira, but the woman had a good spirit and kind heart and Amadeus was confident she'd see to it that Fira was taken care of.

"And make sure you get that wound taken care of, hm?" he offered something close to a smile, like a little ghost of a thing.

 

[Meraki]

"I don't—"

Was it even worth the argument? Fira caught her own words before they left her mouth. It seemed that the travel and attack had exhausted her, but more than that she knew she could not argue with Amadeus. She wanted to stay behind with him, she wanted to ride side by side and she wanted to do this together, but she knew he was right. She had to see the Duke as soon as possible and that meant moving as quickly as possible. But if anything ever happened to him, she would not survive it. Even though she probably should have or fought to, she knew what she felt in her heart even if no one else in the world believed it.

Even if their journey had fallen into chill and not a single glimpse of the carefree people they were at Calliope's, she still loved him with every single fibre of her being.

"He is right, Your—" the messenger caught himself and shook his head, "he is right. The ride is but a mile longer up this ridge. The sooner we get you there, the better chance there is of speaking with the Duke before he retires for the night."

She did not even know what to say. Yes or no she did not feel comfortable with the decision and she exhaled, pushing her hair from her face with almost an exasperated expression. "Okay," she said as the messenger opened his mouth again to protest her remaining here, "We will ride ahead, but if you are not there within the hour, I am raising hell. Do you understand me?"

It was both a warm jest and a serious remark. Fira would not do this without Amadeus because she refused to live without him. No matter what life they led, no matter who they were. They could have forsaken this all, left for a neighboring kingdom and lived out their days as simple farm folk and she would have been alright with that. Being Queen meant that she could hardly ever be selfish, but she would be selfish with Amadeus. Every single time.

"I will see you soon," she said, lingering a moment before following after the messenger who needed no excuse to take off for the Duke's estate. I love you, she mouthed before starting off for the Duke's estate. When she was out of sight of Amadeus, she reached into her saddle bags and pulled out some cloth to tie around her wound. There was no time for that now. If she was riding ahead to meet with the Duke, then that's what she would do. Everything else, including her leg, could wait until later.

When they finally arrived at the estate, Calliope was the first to greet them. Her eyes searched for Amadeus before settling unhappily on Fira and she shook her head. "He insisted we ride ahead, he should be here within the hour," Fira said, offering no more of an explanation, but her words were not cold. She was just tired and in true royal fashion, the moment she arrived, she was being whisked off to meet with the Duke. "Calliope," Fira said before she entered the Duke's war room where he was waiting with wine and council, "I know you do not care much for me, but — please, keep an eye out for Amadeus. I—just, please."

Calliope nodded and shooed Fira into the war room, where Fira was met immediately with the sight of the Duke. He was a strong, powerful man who reminded her almost painfully of her father. He stood in her presence, bowing his head in respect to her and she did the same. "Your Highness," he greeted, "Well, I suppose it should be Your Majesty, now. The last time I saw you, you were very small."

"And you are just as tall as I remember," Fira mentioned and watched the smile stretch across his salt and pepper beard, "Shall we speak then?"

"Come," he gestured for her to come closer, "Let's."

 

[Nav]

Amadues' gaze was steady on Fira, giving her a reassuring nod as she fought internally with herself. He understood, of course, because he didn't doubt for a second his importance to her. He had had the same reservations sending her off with nothing but the messenger, but this was above both of them. This wasn't about Fira and Amadeus—it was about the Queen—and Amadeus would make any sacrifice he needed to make. Anything, anything at all. He knew in his heart of hearts that that was not what Fira wanted to hear, of course. The idea of someone giving a life for yours was an incredibly heavy thing to cope with, but Amadeus had no intentions of dying if he could avoid it, either.

"I'll see you soon," he agreed, digging his cloak deeper across his shoulders, "And I'll be there within an hour, I assure you." At her mouthed words, Amadeus just offered a small, warm smile in response—the first sign of any shred of warmth in him since leaving Calliope's house.

Travelling on foot, it was probably safer for him to be alone. He was quiet and swift, unlike the heavy footfalls of the horses. He was also smaller, slipping in and out of the shadows of the tree line. He traversed quickly, making good time as he walked. It took him longer than he had anticipated, his feet growing more sore with every step, but after forty-five minutes, the estate house came into view. He broke into a jog, closing the last of the distance. He hadn't even made it through the front gaits when the image of Calliope appeared through the darkness like a little light. She was practically glowing in the half-light with her pale skin and flaxen blonde hair that spilled down her bare shoulders and exposed back.

The soft fabric of her dress, bright teal, fluttered against the cool autumn breeze and revealed her feet and ankles. "Amadeus," she cooed warmly, as if the sight of him alone was enough to bring her warmth from the cool night air. "I am so very glad to see you made it."

"I did, yes," he huffed, stepping up alongside of her. She didn't wait a moment to wrap both of her arms around his one, guiding him gently through the front doors of the estate house and into the overly lavish front hall. "Is Fira well?"

"Mm, yes, she made it," Calliope purred, slightly disappointed the conversation had taken that turn. "Quite fond of you, that one. I see now why you fancy her. She's quite cute—a little short and robust for my personal tastes but I suppose she's fine. Cares something fiercely about you, which I must say is the only positive thing I see in her myself."

"You're so harsh," Amadeus said with a half-smile, feeling the warmth inside the house immediately saturate through his bones as a comforted sigh escaped him. The pair moved to the foyer, where they were served herbal tea with honey that Amadeus sipped down eagerly to quench the ill feeling swirling within him. "And jealous. Blinded by jealousy, not a very becoming trait on you, Cal."

"Jealousy!" she chirped, laughing as she slid into the seat next to him, "Mmm, oh please, my dear. I could have you if I truly wanted you. I've just chosen not to… out of respect for Fira, really."

"Oh?" Amadeus snorted and shook his head, though his eyes kept glancing to the boardroom that had its doors tightly shut, "You know I adore you Calliope, but you know not like that."

 

[Meraki]

"Your goals are admirable," the Duke breathed out, tapping his fingers against his goblet before taking a deep sip, "Peter has been by your father's side for quite some time. Far long than you, it leave you at quite the disadvantage."

"I mean no ill-words towards his memory, but my father did not rule Rhielith with the intention of prospering, he was malleable after the loss of my mother and brothers. Peter holds the kingdom on shaky grounds and that will be his greatest weakness. The soldiers we encountered today were hardly fit to call themselves the royal army, as their arrows and armor were hastily made. I do not doubt that he, too, is struggling."

"I may not have an army of my own," Fira admitted, "but Peter will never have the support of the people. I realize this is not a fairytale where ill-intentions are always met with comeuppance, but rebellions have popped up all over the kingdom. His army is not a reflection of his power, it is a reflection of his fear."

The Duke hummed, glancing through the parchment he had out and sat back for a moment, simply eyeing Fira. "You are quite serious about this. I can appreciate passion, certainly. If you do not mind me asking — how is it you escaped the palace unscathed?"

"I was not unscathed," Fira answered, taking a sip of her own wine, "I took an arrow to the side and rode for nearly a day before I passed out along the outskirts of Inverness. If it was not for Amadeus finding me, I would not have survived."

"And instead of fleeing, you feel as though you must turn around and reclaim the throne your father left vacant?"

"Yes."

A beat passed. "What if I were to tell you that your father was not killed by bandits?"

"Excuse me?" she glanced up.

"Your father was traveling through these roads out of Santora and back towards the castle. His entourage was attacked by Peter's men, men wearing the royal seal who had already sworn their allegiance to a new King. The severed your father's head and brought it back to Peter. My men were the men who found him. What was left of him, of course. Calliope did not tell you?"

"No, she did not," Fira said, her mind trying desperately to wrap around the realization. Peter had ordered her father killed, after attempting to murder her, and now he sat on the throne of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the realms. It made her sick to her stomach. Fira cleared her throat and took another deep sip, letting it burn in her stomach. "Why are you telling me this?"

"To be sure you are aware of the kind of man you challenge. It is not an easy task for a man to take down another such as Peter."

"Well," Fira shrugged, "I suppose it is wonderful luck that I am, in fact, a woman."

The Duke let out a bright, bark of a laugh before he finished off his glass of wine and stood, immediately drawing Fira from her chair as well though a bit slower with the pain radiating in her thigh. Immediately, his hand reached out for hers, a handshake, and Fira took it firmly, shaking it once before he turned it over and placed a kiss to the back of her palm. "My men are at your service, Your Majesty, Queen Fira. I, too, am at your disposal if you require."

It was a conversation that took quite some time and after drawing up some minor details, the doors of the boardroom that were locked shut were opened for them and the two made their way out into the room where Calliope and Amadeus were sitting in conversation. Immediately, Fira's shoulders relaxed at the sight of Amadeus and the Duke nodded his head.

"We have ourselves an allegiance," he clapped her on the shoulder in a friendly manner, "Now, you both must be dying of hunger and exhausted. Calliope, my darling, do see that our friends are tended to?"

 

[Nav]

Calliope and Amadeus chatted in a way only old friends could and for the first time since they had left Calliope's estate, Amadeus seemed generally bright as he laughed softly and whatever absurd ideas were leaving Calliope's mouth at the moment. She was a bright girl, in her own way, but she lacked common sense—leaving some of the ideas that escaped her to be entirely absurd. In a way, Amadeus enjoyed listening to her speak though because she saw the world in such a different way than anyone he had ever met before. Some might have called her foolish for how she saw things—all balanced by a little bit of hog magic and voodoo—but it was nice to hear someone who could still be so openly hopeful and enchanted with the world around them.

Amadeus had grown bitter to the world in which he lived quite some time ago—after his father's death, his mother's illness, Rosalie's death, but it didn't take Calliope very long at all to get him laughing about how wonderful it would be to holster lightening and control it at one's whim… like fire, but different.

"You are going to capture lightening are you?" he rolled his eyes playfully at her, "And how do you propose you do that? Are you going to stand outside in a rainstorm and open your hands?"

"What? Amadeus, that would be absurd!" she giggled, nearly choking on her tea, "No, of course not! I will send one of my maids to do it for me."

"Typical."

"What did you say?" she raised a brow at him, a playfully dangerous smirk on her lips, as if challenging him. "My dearest heart, you underestimate the prowess of my handmaids."

"Apparently I do."

"Just like you underestimate my prowess to—"

The door creaked as it swung open and both Amadeus and Calliope glanced ahead. Whatever lightness and silliness they had been carrying quickly washed away and rather suddenly, both of them were wearing incredibly somber expressions—though for different reasons.

"That's good to hear," Amadeus offered with a smile, though it remained as serious as ever. He quickly set his tea aside and rose to his feet, dusting off his hands on the front of his jacket as he did so. Meanwhile, Calliope also arched up to her feet, annunciating something along the lines of 'yes, of course' before turning, reaching back to tug Amadeus along by his elbow.

"Well, come both of you. If you're hungry, we'll see you to the dining hall. If you're tired, we'll see you to quarters."

 

[Meraki]

Fira noted very quickly how their faces had dropped when they walked in. While war was not good news, they had not anticipated an alliance such as this. The last twenty four hours were trying on her heart, between the cold demeanors and pain and more than anything the realization that her father had been killed by the very man she wanted to dethrone. It was so difficult not to make this about revenge, about making Peter pay for what happened to her father, but she knew it could not be. If she was to be Queen, this fight had to be for the people, it could not just be for her own petty problems.

Even if those petty problems set her world spinning out of control.

Calliope immediately took Amadeus by the arm and led them away from the Duke, but only a few steps into the walk and Fira knew her limits. Between her leg and her mind, she could not deal with Calliope's games tonight. She could not emotionally push herself any further and she had seen the smile on Amadeus' face. He deserved to spend time with someone who made him feel like there was no obligation and reminded I'm that there was a world outside of life and death situations. Fira never once questioned his love for her, she knew the depth of what he felt, but it was because of that love that she knew when she made things worse.

"On second thought, you should both go without me," Fira said finally, her words not holding a single ounce of malice. If anything, since meeting Calliope — Fira trusted the woman more than she cared to admit. At least Fira knew where she stood and Calliope would never let anything happen to Amadeus. "It seems the day has worn me out a bit more than I anticipated. Please, go be merry and enjoy a drink for me."

She just wanted Amadeus to smile.

With her words, one of the attending servants gestured to show Fira the way to her room and she walked slowly, deliberately. It hurt, mostly from not being tended to, and after they brought her a basin of water and a few cloths, Fira slipped into a night dress and hiked her skirt up just high enough to take a look at the bloodied mess that was her thigh. Sinking to the floor with her back to the matters, Fira pressed the cloth to her skin and let out a bit of a hiss. It would be fine.

But a few moments passed and it was enough to elicit just a bit of a broken sob from her. She never cried about her father, never grieved, only moved on and it was a hard moment to realize now that he was gone because of someone else. It mad her angry, it made her hands shake, but more than anything it made her so sad that he had died alone, knowing that the men killing him he had once called his own and the man who ordered it, he had once affectionately called a brother despite Peter being the Queen's brother.

Fira leaned her head back and wiped at her eyes with the palm of her free hand.

 

[Nav]

"Oh?" Amadeus glanced to Fira as she stumbled to a stop, looking about as exhausted as she said she was. He was tired too and knew he probably should have chosen to go straight to sleep, but he was hungry… and a drink didn't sound all that bad at all, either. A bit of alcohol to curb his brain for the evening wasn't unwelcomed and seeing as Fira hadn't argued him earlier, he wasn't going to argue her now. "Of course, get some rest. Sleep well."

"Good night, your majesty," Calliope added in a tone that was neither warm nor cold—just bland.

With the young royal whisked away, Amadeus and Calliope enjoyed a light meal and some wine together, but the mood had shifted. Or, rather, Amadeus' mood had shifted. He felt dark and stormy in every sense, like a damp blanket had been pulled around him in the middle of winter—leaving him cold and gasping. Calliope seemed unamused by his change in personality and she kept asking him 'what was wrong,' but the most frustrating part was that he didn't have an answer for her. He didn't know what was wrong—they had made it out okay, everyone was fine… he was upset he had killed a horse that afternoon, but the depth of his darkness ran deeper than that.

"I think I'm just tired," He answered when she asked him what was wrong for the sixth or seventh time, "it's been a long few days. Thanks for the food, but I think I'm going to see myself to bed."

"Mm, not even one more glass of wine?"

"No, thank you though," he stood and leaned across the table to press a kiss to her cheek, "Good night, Cal."

A servant saw him to his quarters and he hastily peeled off his cloak. It had been nearly two hours since Fira had gone to bed, but he was struggling to shake her out of his mind. Briefly, he tried to lay down and sleep it off, but when he couldn't even keep his eyes closed for more than a few moments, he rolled out of bed and slipped into the dark hall. Her guest room was only three doors down and coming in front of her door, he gave it a small knock—so light it probably wouldn't have stirred her had she been asleep. He didn't even really know why he was there.

He didn't really have anything to say to her—but he supposed he could always wish her a good night, if she wasn't already sleeping.