Ties Unbroken

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Protective Maid, #a46fd9, solid, 10"]Numbness spread through her limbs faster than the bite of a Northern winter. It froze her breath and stopped her beating heart in its place, leaving a flawless statue in place of the girl who'd thawed so beautifully in the Southern sun. Ellara's eyes remained wide open, her mind processed the events which had unfolded, but refused to believe they were real. It had nearly been a decade, one day remained between the ten years past and the present moment she found herself trapped in. Even with all the time in the world, she found herself entirely unprepared for the truth. She felt sick. More than that, she felt as if she'd received a swift kick in her gut. All at once she was breaking, yet not a single part of her dared to move out of place.

Maeve had tried her best to guide the young woman away from the masses, but she hadn't been able to do it soon enough. Timothy and Edmure approached, and the handmaiden couldn't voice her opposition in time to stop the latter from embracing Ellara. The red headed girl couldn't respond, her veins held an icy chill which froze her whole. It had been a long time since she was reminded of the snow in her blood, and it did not greet her kindly. She didn't remember his face, too young to recall the Prince and his origin. The colors did seem familiar, green with a rich red. It was of the West. This she knew, but the man she did not.

"U-um, are you okay Ellara?" Timothy's voice broke through the shell of her numbness, and Ellara was able to look up for the briefest of moments to meet his eyes.

No. She wanted to say. Words cannot describe the pain I feel, the chill in my veins which reminds me so much of the North I was born to. In my heart my home is Great Khaer, but I never imaged I would return.

Her mouth hung open in a small circle, her voice stuck in her throat. Catherine had forgotten to inform Ellara Wittacre that their entire past was about to be revealed. People would know about the assassin, about the night they found the bloodied bodies of their mother, father, and brother. The past which she had worked so hard to forget would come back to haunt her just as it did in her dreams. However, it was entirely too real, and too fresh to ignore this time. Every man, woman and child would want to hear firsthand the story of how Ellara escaped the castle that night, knowing Catherine would most likely embellish a few minor details.

"The Lady Ellara is feeling unwell." Maeve finally interjected with her voice, although she would have preferred Timothy leave his hands to himself. "The news has left her a little shocked, and she requested to return until she was able to respond to any inquiries."

Arlo continued to help support Ellara, but he hoped his actions would go unnoticed. The girl became increasingly heavy as each second passed, and he feared she was only a moment away from falling into his arms. He did not want her to faint in such a public place, especially not after the previous announcement. The panic it would cause would be unstoppable, even in the wake of the recent proposal.

"I'm alright." Ellara mumbled. Her eyes stared blankly to the floor. "She is correct however, I wish to return to...to-"

Ellara let out a shaky breath and forced herself to stop her senseless shaking. Her lip trembled with unspoken words, but again she could not find her voice. It had left her along with all of her courage. The wind had been knocked out of her, it was the only comparable feeling alongside the nausea in her entire body. A light wetness began to streak down her face. Ellara reached a pale hand up to meet the tear drops she found, and she couldn't contain her sorrow, her pain, and how afraid she was to remember the past again. The floodgates opened, more tears were shed, and the youngest Princess of the North felt utterly defenseless.

"No. Timothy, I was not ready." She sobbed. Maeve rested her hand on the girl's shoulder to comfort her. "I did not know, I was so blind."

Ellara wrestled from Arlo's hold and wrapped her arms around Timothy's neck, weeping against his red coat. Maeve insisted they move into the hall, lest anyone see her so hurt in public. All eyes focused on Catherine across the hall, the worry was for nothing, not an eye nor an ear paid any mind to the red haired girl. The two royal children held on to each other, Ellara the image of sorrow and fear in her moment of grief.

"Please, it would be best if we all left. We can avoid a scene this way, come." Maeve pulled Edmure along, she at least recalled the man's face from Ellara and Catherine's childhood days. He was the Prince to the West, a supportive nation in times of war, but a weak one at that. She did not dislike the man, because she had only met a child. To say he was the same would be incorrect. He had grown, and she hoped with it, so had his morals.

Arlo wrapped his hands in the air around the embraced couple, hoping Timothy would comply and move silently along into the hallway before anyone noticed his absence as well.[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Querulous Little Brother, #1530ab, solid, 10"]
The lack of words implicated something terrible, a sickly feeling ran through Timothy's veins. The vulnerable Ellara stood before him with a expression he did not understand. He searched for an expression constantly moving his head looking closer. The shock was still evident on her face, but, Timothy was too dense to see it. Her lips opened slightly raising Timothy's hopes up that she will utter a word, yet nothing was vocalized. He couldn't find himself glancing or peeling his eyes off of Ellara -- the pained expression on her face grappled his attention, shackling him to her blue captivating eyes. There was no escape from Ellara and Timothy was willing to stay compliant to her. His hardened facial features softened; he decided to go for a different approach, he decided to try be William. Timothy cleared his throat, releasing a hearty grunt. Before he could let his William impersonation be executed Maeve broke out in words.

"The Lady Ellara is feeling unwell." He looked at the handmaiden and shifted into a displeased mien. "The news has left her a little shocked, and she requested to return until she was able to respond to any inquiries." His displeased countenance altered into a confused one. He recollected his brothers words spoken to him, sure of each syllable vocalized. The assumption of Ellara being informed of the union between William and Catherine was made. The three siblings all assumed Ellara was well aware of the announcement, he was unable to shake the thought out.

His hands loosened its grip on Ellara's arm letting his hands drop back to his sides. The inability to help the girl he has adored was an infuriating experience. He mustered up all his focus on keeping a composed appearance. He stood tall beside Edmure who was muddled in the group of worrisome people. Timothy took a deep breath and leveled his head letting his dark eyes match height level with Ellara's blue one's.

"I'm alright." The words uttered out in a soft meek tone.

Her voice grabbed hold of Timothy swiftly. His entire attention was focused onto Ellara. His eyes shifted to her face looking for any signs of discomfort -- it was quite obvious she was uncomfortable. "She is correct however, I wish to return to...to-" The words stuttered out from her lips. "You don't have to tell me." He reassured her. There was no need for words to be spoken, all she could do was cry and Timothy will mount his stead and find his weeping maiden. He beckoned the call of his maiden like the tales his mother read to him when he was just a child. Timothy strived to be the prince Ellara was looking for, his chances were slim, but they were enough. Dark orbs caught the sight of her body shake, her physical appearance lacked the health it required. Timothy prepared himself if Ellara fell, his arms grew prudent to her movements.

"No. Timothy, I was not ready." Her breaking voice took a larger toll on him. He bit his lower lip glancing at the people surrounding him, yet none spoke. Only Maeve comforted the girl by placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His hands reluctantly were held up high in the position to grab her into a tight embrace. "I did not know, I was so blind." Her voice was shaken and timid, so soft that only a few could hear. Arms wrapped around Timothy's neck caught him off-guard. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. The foreign feeling of intimacy was warm, soft, and pleasant. He reacted terribly, but, he initiated a fitting response. His hands hesitantly wrapped around Ellara's small slender figure, hugging her tightly. The words he wished to say hovered over his lips -- however Timothy couldn't seem to bring himself to say it. Instead, he kept his lips shut and hugged Ellara tight enough to kill the young woman.

Only if he could hold her forever."Please, it would be best if we all left. We can avoid a scene this way, come." The young prince loosened the tight grip that wrapped around Ellara. He spared a glance at Maeve. The thick tribe accent distorted the words forming them into an ambiguous language. He looked down at Ellara only to see the top of her head. Her face was pressed against his chest hiding the pained expression. A knight behind them ushered them out of the ballroom leading them into the dim lit hallways. The dark night was visible through the tall slender windows, the moonlight kept the grounds visible to the human eye. A yearning to kiss the top of the girls red head was irresistible. Timothy pulled away from the ill manners keeping the urges to himself. He, instead, gave her one tight squeeze before releasing her. It was painful to extract himself away from Ellara -- he wished to have stayed by her side nevertheless he was needed back to the ballroom.

Before leaving petite Ellara, he turned her small body towards his and lifted her chin up. He smiled at her. "Go to bed, sleep it away, I must return but if you ever need me just say my name." The gallant words surprised Timothy himself. He would have never expected those words to come from his lips. "Edmure let us go. We have much to do." Timothy said turning his heel, gesticulating for the taller prince to accompany him.

In spite of Ellara's emotions, he found himself in a gleeful mood. The young prince couldn't help but feel giddy.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Strange Tidings, #5e0d0d, solid, 10"]He was only drifting through, a stranger on a jet black mare, a hood drawn over his face to remain in shadow. The reins he held secure as the man navigated the outer slums of the great city of the house Roivas. His beast was well trained, and never once grunted a complaint when the bit became uncomfortable in his jaw. The man was nameless, faceless, nothing but a passerby to anyone who saw him and part of a vague recollection of the day's events. It was the image he projected, and the identity he wanted to keep to those who did not know or understand his profession. He had no place to call home, his only objective to bring the final bit of proof from his most recent job.

Casually, he pulled his cloak further over the satchels hanging from the sides of his mare. The worn and dark garment covered a suspicious blood stain coming from inside one of the pockets.

When someone came to close to his horse, a ragged gloved hand would automatically grip for the hilt of the great sword at his hip. Although he knew they were no more than plebeians and guardsman on patrol, his mind had been trained to react to even the most inauspicious behavior. One wrong move was the fine line between life, and a knife in the back. He rather preferred living.

The city was too awake for the hour, the stars couldn't outshine the lights on the streets and fires roaring from hearth to center square, their omniscient twinkling had been silenced by human hands. Everyone was alive with dance and boisterous talk of 'the news'. Had they heard it, had they been there, did they see them? What are they talking about. Listen, Caél, listen carefully. His mind instructed his body to act. The mysterious stranger, Caél, drifted through the crowds hoping to catch wind of something more than those words, and finally he found the answer to his problems. A pub had its doors wide open, standing room only for those who were still interested in a late night drink. The establishments were well known for gossip, and it was easy to trade coin for a rumor when a man found himself without a heading.

The stranger tied his horse behind the bar and slipped in quietly through the side. He pulled the hood off his face to better blend in and his thick dark hair rolled down onto his shoulders, finally glad to be free of the fabric hold. The best place to hide was in a crowd, and even better when you looked just as dirty and drunk as the rest of them.

"...and thaass, thas when I heard 'em!" A man yelled from a table near the opposite side of the room. Two massive barrels were guarded by a few of the barkeeps, and the drunkard stood before them with a glass in hand. Caél rolled his eyes at the drunkard near the taps. His face was red, splotched with years of age and the unrelenting sun beating down on his brow. A typical farmer in for a night away from his, most likely, plump and sour wife. He screamed and riled up the crowd, and at first the stranger paid him no mind, but he reminded himself to listen. It was the only way to learn. "They'rall dancin' and cryin' 'bout this a tha'-"

He made his way to the front just as a stool opened up to the weary traveler, and Caél claimed the crooked wooden seat. The drunkard was never out of earshot, his mouth like a spigot itself, the words poured out without a cork to stem the tide. As the stranger set his hands upon the worn wood, a man slid him a pint of ale. Caél hadn't even reached for his purse, but the man still held his hand out greedily for a solid piece of coin. Begrudgingly, the stranger handed a few coppers over.

"You've got a pretty pouch o' gold on ya." The man noted, presumed to be a bartender. "Haven't seen your face before, neither. I'd hate for there to be trouble."

"I'll show you a few more coins, and you forget about the gold and my face." Caél offered with a neutral expression. The bartender agreed, and a few more coins were tossed up onto the counter. Such was the way, when one's profession was keeping to the shadows.

"Here to celebrate?" The man asked.

"I suppose so." Caél lied. He hadn't the slightest idea of what was going on, since he'd only been in town for all of an hour now. "Remind me again, what are we celebrating? There's an awful lot of holidays, what with those royals."

He flashed a bit of gold, as well as a sideways grin, and the bartender leaned in close to whisper. The latter was more eager to get his hands on the coin, the former just wanted his bit of information. It hardly mattered who paid what or how loudly it was declared. The ruckus around them was enough to give them their own private space had they been yelling at each other halfway across the room. Packed like sardines as they were, they both felt it was still appropriate to speak low and near.

"It's common knowledge by now, you must'a only just arrived." The bartender started. "Earlier this evenin', the King had his fancy balls, as they do up in the castle there. But, today, he-"

"The Wittacre sisters he says, right then there we see a busty babe." The drunkard shouted loudly into the crowd. Caél froze. Did he say Wittacre? That's not possible. I took care of that problem ten years ago. "Well thas Catherine, right ten in the market, aint she boys? Little Ellara's not so little neither now, is she?"

Caél pulled the coin back into his hand. "Impossible. That family's long been dead, haven't they?"

The bartender shook his head. "No sir, it's true! Turns out, the daughters are alive. Blessin' isn't it?" He eyed up the coin in Caél's hand, but the man shrugged it back into his own pocket, and the bartender stalked away, disgruntled after having been beat to the punchline by a drunk halfway across the bar. This...is not what I expected. The stranger took a long swig of his ale and slammed it back on the counter, unfinished and unwanted but for the drink he'd consumed. He shoved past the crowd now, eager to be outside into the world. He had old friends to meet, bargains to strike, and a few blades to sharpen if the coin was good.[/fieldbox]

[fieldbox="The Missing Girl, #405fbd, solid, 10"]"Sir Kelly! Sir Kelly, stop, wait!" Arlo sprinted across the courtyard just in time to catch a glimpse of the burly red haired knight passing by. The glint of his armor tipped the young man off to his location, polished in light of his coming out as a proper house guard of the Wittacre family. He was able to proudly display the banner he'd hidden for a decade. The older man stopped and turned to greet the young squire, a smile dawned his features beneath the light of the sun.

"Arlo? What's got you in a hurry?" Duncan paused and rested his hands on the hilt of his sword in a casual stance. He was amused watching the squire attempt to catch his breath after exercising himself in the heavy suit, it wasn't easy, and took many years of practice to find the proper composure when standing guard.

"Maeve...and I..." He panted. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't as accustomed to the full suit, and the heavy material weighed him down more than the usual chain mail he liked so much. However, he, too, would soon be able to wear the Wittacre crest on his armor and it brought him a substantial amount of pride. He stood straight, the armor clacked into place and the two soldiers stood face to face. "...can't find her."

"You can't find Maeve? Surely one missing handmaiden isn't cause for alarm. I can send a man to look for her, and ask if anyone has seen her." Duncan responded in a cool manner with a scoff to top it off. He removed his hands from his hilt and began to turn on his heel to leave, but Arlo stopped him with a hand pulling him back.

"Not her, Ellara, the Lady Ellara." Arlo huffed. "Maeve and I have been looking for her. When Maeve entered this morning, the Lady Ellara was gone. We've been looking all morning, and no one has seen her."

Duncan paused. This was news to him. He'd been making rounds since the break of dawn and had only just heard of the escaped, or possibly kidnapped, Princess. The knight pulled Arlo by the arm back into the castle and led him down the hall to the nearest posted guard, courtesy of the Roivas family.

"Sir Kelly, sir." The man saluted both of the Wittacre men.

"The Lady Ellara has gone missing." Duncan said quietly. The guard looked to him, shocked, but remained steadfast in his place. "I do not want this to get out of hand. Find me a handful of men, and have them report to the courtyard as soon as they are able, before that. We must find her immediately."

"Aye sir, shall I tell the King?"

"No, I don't want this to be a cause for concern. Don't trouble him with the matter. Once you've gathered a squadron for myself, search the castle. We have to find her before anyone realizes she's even gone. Now go."

The guard nodded seriously and scurried down the hall, hopefully towards an officer of higher standing. Duncan returned to the courtyard with Arlo. They discussed where the latter had been, what time she'd gone missing. The last anyone had seen her was just before bed, when Maeve helped her out of her dress, and later that night as she screamed with the recurring nightmare Maeve dreaded. Since then, the sociable head of bright red hair hadn't been spotted by a single servant in that wing of the castle. It was highly suspicious, they noted, for her to be taken just after her sister's betrothal and the announcement of her true identity.

Neither Northerner was certain what to make of the situation.[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Temperate Prince, #999999, solid, 10"]
Shards from the night before gradually fitted themselves back into one perfect memory. The abrupt announcement that surprised everybody without a doubt, the forced proposal, Catherine's words that scorched his mind. Power, she yearned for power just as much as his father. A desire he never understood; it was a foreign concept to him. In spite of all the worries that occurred during the significant night, he could only think of Ellara. The continuous thought of her well-being stuck to his mind keeping him bothered. William sighed in frustration, allowing last night's events worry him. He leaned back in his chair rubbing his hands against his face as he let out a loud groan. His hands trailed upwards. His long slender fingers ran through his dirty blond hair, getting captured by the tangles.

Thin papers were sprawled out on the table and books stacked on the table and on the grounds. Slender, wide windows allowed the sunlight to enter and lit everything it touches. Specks of dust were visible from the sunlight, attaching itself to the books and tables. William was seated staring at the paper written in the old tongue of the South. He attempted to read through the paper, but he couldn't find himself being deterred from the paper and to the events last night. For the first time, he stood up from his princely duties and walked out. The hallways were littered with maidservants and servants running back and forth still cleaning the ballroom. He watched as dirtied cloth's were being pushed in different directions, plates emitting off a clattering noise each step a maid or servant maid, and decorations sparkling the hallways. William walked nearby the wall from all the madness of last night.

He walked in the hallways with his hands by his side. Two guards walked towards him speaking of something. "The Wittacre girl is gone." One guard said. "Which one?" The other one inquired. "Lady Ellara. Why must it always be the younger one's that gives us the trouble?" The guard groaned with irritation.

The two guards walked past him leaving William frozen. He turned his head back looking at the two guards. "Gone?" He began to panic. His heart began to speed up along with his feet. William bursted into a running fit -- he ran through the hallways, passing the maids, bumping into servants, breaking plates along the way, the hallways were left a mess, but that was beyond Williams worry. His feet led him outside to the stables. The strong scent of horse manure was pungent, William was forced to take a moment and gagged at the smell. He looked around for a stableboy, but he found none. He clicked his tongue and turned to where the reigns were placed. He grabbed hold of the black leather reigns and threw it on top of the horse, beginning to mount the stallion.

The black stallion passed the group of guards and Sir. Arlo and Sir. Kelly. "Prince William!" A guard yelled. "Open the gates!" William shouted. The guards frantically ran to the chains pulling on them, slowly opening the iron gates. The black stallion ran out and into the city. The city was loud and boisterous, there was never a day where it was silent. Merchants yelled at the top of their lungs offerings goods from other Kingdoms, women and their children walked the streets basking in the Souths bright sun, and men worked their strength off. The appearance of Prince William grabbed the attention of many commoners. His name was yelled in glee, a few hollered out a question concerning the Wittacre's and a few ghastly comments about the royal family. William disregarded them all -- he just hoped to find Ellara and bring her back to the castle. His hair was blown back by the wind and his eyes looked past small family business and people.

His mindset was focused on Ellara. His eyes meticulously looked at his surroundings hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair. "Damn it! Where are you?"

He pressed his leg against the horse ordering it to turn left. William focused on searching in the ghetto's of the city praying that he would fail to find Ellara there. The scum of the city rested in the alleyways. He pulled his reigns ordering the horse to halt. He stopped at an alleyway where the poorest or the poor and the perfidious of people laid. "Stay." He spoke softly stroking the stallions face. He turned and walked into the alleyways searching for Ellara, instead he finds himself stopped by a withering old man. The elders man's fingers wrapped around Williams ankle bringing him to stop walking. William turned towards the man and squatted meeting eye to eye with the man.

"Yes?" He inquired. No words were spoken, he assumed it was the appropriate time to ask about Ellara. "Have you seen a woman with red hair?" There were no words, but the old man managed to shake his head. A wave of relief crashed against William reassuring him that Ellara was safe. "Thank you." He reached into his pocket in search of a gold coin, but nothing. He stood up watching the old man lean against the wall shrouding himself with his beige cloak. Sadly, it was his last positive encounter in the alleyways. A hand gripped onto Williams's shoulder turning him around aggressively. He was turned over to a man with a disfigured face. The disfigured man had crooked teeth when he flashed a menacing smile at William. "What cha do'n 'ere?"

"I'm looking for a woman, she has red hair." William was well-aware of the situation. He needed to run away before he would attract more urchins. "Haven't seen an'thin'. Ya, gotta nice 'orse dere." The disfigured man chuckled followed by a few other chuckles. William chuckled nervously stepping back slowly. "Well, I'm sure you'll-" In one swift motion he turned his feet around and ran out. The urchins began to run after him. William ran towards his horse reaching his arm towards the reigns. Once his fingers came in contact with the leather reigns he quickly mounted his stead and kicked the horses side bringing the stallion to turn around. The urchins yelled out curses and nasty statements. The adrenaline was pumping his heartbeat and his breathing staggered as he was riding his horse. He decided to spend the next hour interrogating people.

"Okay, thank you." William thanked the woman. He sighed softly strolling around the city wondering where Ellara was. He strolled around for another hour till a thought was presented to him. He remembered the night of the abrupt events. He then recollected his father words frowning till he recalled of the anniversary of the Wittacre's fall, with that he knew where to go.

He pressed his leg against his horses side and began to stride towards Ellara. William prayed the God would smile upon him. The stallion stride through the city, turning each time William ordered it to. Eventually the horse stopped in front of a small church. The church owned a small shrine to the Northern Gods, one of the few that was in the South. He dismounted his stead and lead the horse on the side of the building, tying the reigns onto a slender pillar. William reluctantly entered the church opening the wide double door. The stained glass windows reflected bright colorful light onto the pews and ground. His eyes fixated on a familiar figure in the center of the church. He sighed out of relief. William walked towards her slowly hoping she would not be alarmed by his presence. He slowly positioned himself beside her looking up at the shrine of the famous Northern God and Goddess.

There was no words spoken between them. He allowed her to finish her prayers before initiating a conversation.

"Thank the Gods you're safe."
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Kind Lady, #b84265, solid, 10"]Her head was bowed low in prayer as her lips recited words taught to her by the old Northern priest. He was quiet, the old man, and never bothered to ask who the red haired woman was. Sometimes, Ellara was sure he knew exactly what her name was, or who her family was, and even when her birthday was. She would've been correct to assume so. There was simply an understanding between them, a trust that she would come to silently pray, and he would teach her the stories and legends.

After having come each day precisely when the Wittacre family had been slaughtered, of course the priest knew. The understanding remained. He would do his duties to the shrine, and she would pray.

Ellara was cloaked head to toe in mourning apparel. Her long black gown had no embellishments, before the statues of her Gods, she wore no high collared vestments either. In appearance, she was plain, a girl in deep sorrow because before the deities she was nothing but a mortal woman. She looked quite the dark presence compared to the lively and rather rich Roivas colors after the news of the marriage. Her clothes had earned her a few suspicious looks as she walked the streets, nevertheless, she continued as she did each year. To keep her red hair out of sight, she'd kept a thick velvet cloak on her head at all times. Even so, she still could not keep from the stone eyes watching her. For they knew all. From secrets to lies, friend and foe, sinner and saint, their great statues looked down with a heavy weight to the young girl who only wished to pray and mourn for the family who departed from the world the deities had created.

She'd been there for the entire morning, and would remain until the sun set. Maeve is going to be upset with me. They're probably looking everywhere for me now that everyone knows I'm Ellara Wittacre, not the Lady Elise as they believed.

Her hands remained clasped in prayer and she alternated between standing and kneeling before the small shrine. No one entered to bother her besides the lonely priest, dusting and sweeping as he liked. That is, until she heard footsteps behind her. Ellara had begun another prayer, one she'd long forgot because of the complexity of the tongue in which it was spoken. It was a wish for peace in calamitous times, as such the kingdom was in now that the North was fair game with the two eligible women who remained from the surviving family.

"Thank the Gods you're safe."

Ellara's hands instinctively reached for her throat, to hide what she'd long been keeping hidden, only to remember that there was nothing there. No ribbons or collars to shade her flesh. She'd managed to keep her scar hidden by pulling her cloak around her during her walk to the shrine, and after that it was as easy as holding it up. The only other person who saw her was the priest, and he almost never spoke, Ellara could trust that he would keep to himself.

"How did you find me?" Ellara asked. She curled her hand into a small fist and pretended to play with a piece of jewelry around her throat, one which wasn't there, in order to keep from showing her shame. "Never mind that, you're already here, no use in asking how any more."

She turned her head and her soft red hair followed, a shield to conceal her face. It, too, was red. Her day at the shrine did not come free of pain. She'd cried, reminisced, and on and on until her emotions didn't know jealousy from joy. Ellara only wanted to be alone for one more day in the world which would never let her forget again where she came from. Ellara wanted to weep in the open for one agonizing day before going back to a life behind closed doors.

"I come here every year." Ellara explained, not knowing if he cared to listen or if he was about to scold her for running off without notice. She expected the latter. Just because William was a gentleman at heart didn't mean he would never scold his childhood friend. "Catherine never comes with me, she says it's been long enough to have to come all the way out here just to pray. Who would believe that ten years ago, we stumbled into this great castle all bloodied and scared, not even a few copper pieces between us."

The girl laughed, but there was obvious pain in the action. She stopped playing with her make believe necklace, and fingered the scar along her throat.

"Everyone will want to know how we made it out. It's not a story I care to remember, is that so hard to believe?" Ellara lowered her head. "I still remember every little thing about that night. I remember being cold, and Maeve stole horses from a local village. She wasn't wearing any shoes, it made her quiet. Catherine was angry because she'd forgotten a hairbrush, and that her shoes didn't match on her feet. And Duncan, he-" The girl stopped. "I'm sorry. This must be all terribly uninteresting. Just a memory from another time."

William was kind indeed to have searched for her in the city. If he'd come this far, that meant there would be others looking. The only reason he'd found her was presumably because of his status as a single man party. He was faster, and more wise on his own during a search. Ellara praised him for being able to locate her before the sun set, others might have assumed she'd been kidnapped, or worse.

"I suppose you're here to take me back then, aren't you?" The girl asked sadly.[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Temperate Prince, #999999, solid, 10"]
The serenity of the church fled to another world -- tall shrines of the Northern God and Goddess looking down upon its people. It was an odd experience, never have he met these Gods or Goddesses. It differed drastically to the Southern Goddess. The immaculate Goddess of the South, Baryeos, a large statue stood tall in the heart of the Kingdom. The religion revolved around the sun, a symbol of the Goddess. Inside the church veiled a disparate world. There laid a God, a Goddess, and a child. He furrowed his brows producing a confused mien on his sturdy face. The Northern culture flourished in the church, wolf skin hung on the walls of the stained glass, and painting that held a story. His gray eyes constantly wandered off admiring the new culture. Never have William inquired Ellara of the Northern life-style nor did he pester her with queries of the North; this could possibly be the day.

"How did you find me?" Her voice wrenched his attention towards her. His undivided attention was towards Ellara. His mouth opened slightly to answer, but she casted the question aside. "Never mind that, you're already here, no use in asking how anymore." He was taken aback by her sudden retort. For a moment, he believed that he became a bother to her. He hid the negativity with a stoic expression. It was quiet for the moment. He could hear the distinct noise from the outside. The noise of the South drowns out the North, leaving the church isolated from the rest. There were no patrons that plead for help from the Northern Gods. It was only Ellara who stayed and prayed. The black cloak Ellara worn drowned out the happy girl he was used to seeing in the castle -- the Gods certainly brought out a different woman. His eyes looked up at her face and trailed down at her hand, which covered her neck.

"I come here every year." The silence was broken with a sharp knife. "Catherine never comes with me, she says it's been long enough to have to come all the way out here just to pray. Who would believe that ten years ago, we stumbled into this great castle all bloodied and scared, not even a few copper pieces between us." There were no words need to be said from Williams's lips. It was her moment to speak her story, an untold story of the Wittacre's fall. "Everyone will want to know how we made it out. It's not a story I care to remember, is that so hard to believe?"

In spite of his oblivious moments, the pained words were evident to him. William couldn't find the evidence to blame the girl; if it was him, he would be just as vulnerable. "I still remember every little thing about that night. I remember being cold, and Maeve stole horses from a local village..." The recollection of his past pulled him closer, he scooted closer towards her listening closely. "She wasn't wearing any shoes, it made her quiet. Catherine was angry because she'd forgotten a hairbrush, and that her shoes didn't match on her feet. And Duncan, he-" Her words cut off into an apology. "I'm sorry. This must be all terribly uninteresting. Just a memory from another time."

"There is no need to apologize. Tis your story to tell not mine. Till then I shall comfort you as best as I can Ellara." He smiled at the girl. He hoped she would do the same. The crestfallen maiden saddened William. He was well-aware that the death of the North cannot be mended, but he was sure he could bring out a smile in her. "I suppose you're here to take me back then, aren't you?"

At the end of Ellara's prolonged absence, the entire militia will be on the prowl for Ellara, later William. Albeit the young prince has yet to take Ellara around the South's prosperous city and possibly another location. On the arrival of Ellara and Catherine, they were never to leave the castle -- the two girls were under complete protection. A guard was by them all times despite the two knights that survived the massacre of them. It was noon and the sun was still bursting with light, there was no rush to flea for home, for now. He sighed softly looking down at his lap. He waited for a second before looking up at Ellara. William pulled off a charming Roivas smile and chuckled softly at the Northern girl.

"Come." He stood up from the pew with hands extended towards her. "I won't take you back." He reassured her. As soon as Ellara's hands rested on his, he wrapped his fingers around her small hand and lead her outside the church. The church doors were open widely letting the Southern sun bask upon them. He released her small hand and turned to her with a big smile on his face. "It's best if you keep yourself hidden..." He pulled the black hoodie over her head keeping her face slightly hidden, a bit of her red hair peeked out. "I'm sure father has already sent out more men to find you." He placed his hand on her back leading her towards the stallion. William untied the reigns preparing the horse for another long walk around the city. He turned towards Ellara, gesticulating in a fancy but playful pose. "My lady." He said in a superficial charming tone.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Kind Lady, #b84265, solid, 10"]Ellara was dazzled by his playful tone, whether or not he meant for it to be sincere. The former was more likely. The young lady smiled at his attempts to help her play escapee for the day, because most likely he'd get in more trouble than she ever would. For the crown prince and first heir of his name to wander so freely and without any kind of protection was a deadly violation of his safety. For the Lady, it was only a problem because of her newly recognized status as a lost Northern heir. No one would mind her absence now that Catherine was engaged to William.

Right...they're to be married. She thought sadly. For Catherine it would only be a game. It was a shame that William would be subjected to her desires.

Ellara pushed such negative thoughts from her mind. Thoughts of the future, the wedding, and Catherine's conquest of the North. They had years to devote to going home and only the present time could be enjoyed for the red haired girl. Soon, men would want to claim her own hand in the hopes to take a piece of the North which was lost. It wasn't the time to think about the castle which had confined her for so many years, or the harsh new reality she'd have to live in. Right now, it was Ellara and the Prince on a secret outing.

It shouldn't be negative anyways. Catherine is lucky to have a man so devoted as William...right.

Convincing herself of the lie would take a long time.

They exited the shrine after Ellara made one more attempt at a prayer. She waved goodbye to the priest, who nodded his head in dismissal. Their silent understanding remained, even with William Roivas there. The priest turned as Ellara did, and continued to sweep the pristine floors in silence.

"Where are we going?" Ellara asked now that they were out on the streets. She turned to gaze up at the Prince, a sparkle in her rich blue eyes. "I would hate for you to get into any sort of trouble because of me, I only wanted to pray..."

She looked back to the temple and wondered vaguely if it was wise for her to follow along. Although his intentions were good, him finding her and not taking her directly back home would cause him problems. The red haired girl mouthed a silent protest, pulling the black hood further over her face. No one knew who she was, but as they walked she heard the silent gasps of disbelief. She felt the eyes on them, as the common citizens pointed and stared towards William walking so plainly on the streets.

No. Let's see where he's taking me.

"The whole city is going to notice you, you know that right?" Ellara asked, her brow raised in question. "My Prince." She repeated his earlier title for her.[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Temperate Prince, #999999, solid, 10"]His sturdy hands gripped tightly onto the brown leather reigns. In one swift motion, he flicked his wrist letting the reigns hit the stallions body. The stallion began to walk leading them into the city. The sounds of people whispering and pointing filled the town quickly, the word of princes sudden appearance. The Southern streets flourished with small trinkets, jewels that shone the ruby gem, and the delicious pungent smell of exotic meats and foods. The whispers were drowned out by Ellara's distinctive voice.

"Where are we going?"

"My lady, you must not ruin the surprise. Do you not trust me?" He joked around jesting, letting the formalities slide off his tongue. "I would hate for you to get into any sort of trouble because of me, I only wanted to pray..." Her worrisome was truly sincere and he adored that side of her. William was well-aware of the troubles he has strung along. The inevitable scolding and tongue lashing from his father were always horrifying, his father's cold steel eyes, his hands constantly gaining a tighter tenacity, and the circular ring with a peculiar ruby, which bears the same characteristics of a dragon's eye. William bit his inner cheeks putting up his best poker face -- he attempted to push away the negative possibilities. He turned his head towards Ellara for a moment to catch a glimpse of a glimmer of sparkle in her blue eyes. He turned away quickly and kept his eyes ahead of the road.

"No, I won't get into trouble Ellara." He smiled to himself lying to her. He kept the negative possibilities a secret, he didn't wish to worry Ellara.

"The whole city is going to notice you, you know that right?"

"They already are." He chuckled softly. "But if I was a simple person I would pester myself with who is with the prince. A mysterious hooded figure behind the prince sounds like a scene begging for gossip." He jested.

"My Prince." A smirk was formed by his lips. Shortly after they were deep within the city a loud voice shouted his name. "Prince William!" The loud deep voice grabbed Williams attention, bringing him to turn around giving the knight eye to eye contact. "Damn it." He cursed under his breath. "Hold onto me my Lady!" He ordered Ellara. With one flick of the wrist, the stallion began to race diligently deeper into the city. The horse-hoofs raced towards William. Average citizens jumped out of the way by Williams speedy stallion -- people were constantly yelling on the other side, a few from the taller building had people poking their heads out pointing at William. The stallion created a gust of dirt causing a great bothersome for the citizens of the South. The sounds of sword clanking brought the color in his face turn pale. He quickly takes a sharp turn possibly surprising Ellara. The sharp turn leads them into a narrow alleyway.

The stench was unbearable, but that didn't stop the knights behind. There were loud shouts coming behind him and threats that were appalling to his ears. He pulled the reigns up and down letting the reigns slap against the horses body. The horse let out a screeching neigh and stride out of the alleyway, with a kick on the side the horse turned leading into the crowds of people. The crowds of people split into two halves making room for the racing stallion. The crowd then conjoined together returning to its original large crowd. The knights behind stride towards him, the crowd opens up once again. He took this time to race out of the city as soon as possible.

"Don't let go!" He kicked the side of the stallion and raised the leather reigns. The horse let out one more screeching reigns before letting out a burst of speed. The horse began to run out quickly, there was no warning to the crowds except for Williams's voice. "Get out of the way!" He yelled loudly letting people jump out of the way. His heart began racing as he heard a knights voice getting closer and closer. Beside William's black stallion was a brow stallion being reigned by a knight. The Roivas sigil was worn proudly by the man who began to speak malarkey to the eldest prince. "Get back here Prince William!" The knight scowled. William let out a tch, sound out irritation. The urge to kick the knight beside him was arguable, instead he kicked the side of his horse and took a quick turn leaving the knight confused. The horse ran without stop.

The knights behind attempted to follow but lost William. The horses speed yielded gingerly when they were nearby the end of the city. William looked back at Ellara. "Are you okay?" He inquired softly. The horse walked around the peripheral of the town. People within these zones of the Kingdom were usually farmers and timid citizens who worked in manual labor. William stopped the horse for a moment to get back on foot. "Stay up sitting, we're close to our destination..." He said. He leads the horse out of the city and into a plain road, which allowed merchants from other Kingdoms into the South. He leads the horse out of the road and into the verdant grasses. The more he walked the road began to disappear leaving an open field. The sun shining brightly on the green grass bringing out its beautiful green color. Tree's stood nearby, but they were extant in this area. It was quiet and peaceful.

William looked back at Ellara walking towards her with his arms extended out towards her. "Here, grab onto me and I'll help you down." He smiled.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Kind Lady, #b84265, solid, 10"]"I'm fine." Ellara gasped. She'd gripped hard to William for their impromptu chase through the outer edges of the city, and she was unprepared for the harsh ride. Her hood had fallen from her head, and her bright red hair was a tangled mess from the wind caused by the sheer speed of the horse. It had been a long time since she'd ridden so fast. He heart beat loudly in her chest in response to the excitement.

"Stay up sitting, we're close to our destination..." Ellara nodded her head against his back, releasing her tight hold. Before she knew it, William had dismounted and his hands were outstretched towards her. "Here, grab onto me and I'll help you down."

She took his hands without a second thought and was swept elegantly down from the black mare. Her feet hit the ground with a soft thud, long grasses brushed against her skirt and waved in a gentle breeze. Although just a field, Ellara hadn't been allowed this far out of the city for years. The soft verdant looked like velvet against the blue sky. Had she not been a grown woman, Ellara might have thrown herself into the cloud of grasses and rolled in its embrace.

The sun beat down on her skin, against the black mourning robe she wore. She looked out of place in her dark apparel, standing in a glowing field of nature's creation in such terrible looking colors. Ellara should have been dressed in bright colors, as was her typical demeanor, to be bright and cheery like the sun itself. It was so unlike the white of Winter where she was born.

"It's been so long since I've left the castle." Ellara sighed contently and breathed in the air. It smelled faintly of wildflowers, and more heavily of the grass.She turned back to William and frowned then. Nice as it was to finally get her leave, she had a few words for her savior. She stepped forward and lightly slapped her hand against his cheek with the intent to scold him for his actions, behaving so rashly all for her. "That's for getting in trouble." Then, she took his hand and kissed the back gently before bowing her head low. "That's for saving me from being found."

"Now, William, ah, Prince William. You're going to be in a huge amount of trouble, don't try to lie to me, I know better." She shook her finger towards William with a smirk on her face. "You should probably go back, I know my way. I'd hate to keep you out longer than necessary. As Prince, you have actual duties to uphold...whereas I on the other hand..."

Ellara nodded her head from side to side briefly, then she shrugged her shoulders in a blase manner.

"There are a lot of people who want to talk to me now, but nothing more, and nothing less." Ellara's eyes shifted to the ground. "I'd rather avoid that today, so, thank you. It's nice, to be out here. I'd almost forgotten what wildflowers looked like."[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Temperate Prince, #999999, solid, 10"]A soft breeze blew the fields of long grass. The sheen grass shined beautifully in the shower of the sun's rays. He admired the scenery. With both hands occupied by his hips and a big smile on his face, he turned to Ellara. The dark cloak was an anomaly out of the bright lovely colors the field brought out, she certainly stood out from the rest. "It's been so long since I've left the castle." He couldn't help but smile at her statement. William, himself, couldn't abhor the same feeling that brooded within Ellara -- but -- he certainly understood the feeling content and happiness. The fields secreted an affirmative atmosphere, that everything will be okay. The notion was stated denied by many, but William continued to believe so.

A sudden light slap against his cheek caught him off-guard. He stood there open mouthed staring blankly at Ellara. His hand pressed against the slapped cheek giving off the pretense of pain. The action wasn't much like Ellara, it was certainly a surprise. "That's for getting in trouble." He chuckled softly rubbing the back of his neck. Before getting comfortable his hand was taken from him for a moment. Soft lips pressed against his sturdy hands. He watched as Ellara kissed the back of his hand. A sudden spark let his heart go aflame. His heart beat gradually beat faster each second he watched her, till she rose from her position. "That's for saving me from being found." William smiled nodding.

"Now, William, ah, Prince William. You're going to be in a huge amount of trouble, don't try to lie to me, I know better." She wagged her finger with a pretty little smirk on her lips. He couldn't hep but chuckle. "Now why would I lie, Princess Ellara?" He asked in an exuberant manner, placing his hands on his hips leaning in closer for a moment, then pulling away from her creating safe distance.

"You should probably go back, I know my way. I'd hate to keep you out longer than necessary. As Prince, you have actual duties to uphold...whereas I on the other hand..."

"Now, now, don't worry about me. I can handle trouble for now I'll keep a watch on you. I don't believe returning back to the palace with a bunch of nosey people will do you good. Let Catherine handle them." He waved his hand dismissively. "But, you," He pointed his finger at Ellara. "I'll be watching you and keeping you safe till we return." He smiled, showing his teeth. A proud mien on his face shone as proud as the sun. He looked at her, his eyes glancing around her surrounding area, till he spots something on her neck. It appeared to be a scar, a lighter skin tone and certainly stuck out. Before executing an inquiry, he looked once more but failed to get a better look. Instead of pestering her he refrained from bothering the poor girl. "There are a lot of people who want to talk to me now, but nothing more, and nothing less." A brief pause.

"I'd rather avoid that today, so, thank you. It's nice, to be out here. I'd almost forgotten what wildflowers looked like."

"I'm glad you enjoy the view." He said. William forced his eyes to avert the ghastly scar on Ellara's neck, but, it continued to return back to it. He positioned himself to where the scar is visible to him. The scar appears to have taken a third of her neck, it was a jagged line, the person failed to kill her; thank the heavens. The curious juvenile side of him wished to interrogate her about the scar. There are many reasons that kept restraints on him to not. He stood there staring at the field slowly seating himself on the soft grass. His hands gripped onto the ground grabbing a handful of grass. Grey orbs looked up at the Northern girl. There was a silence between the two. William bothered himself with the scar on her neck.

The scar answered many questions one being, why does Ellara wear chokers all the time? He first assumed the girl just adored the accessory, but, now knowing a mark on her neck -- it explained everything. He just wished to have the strength to ask her. There was a peculiar fear that held him back. William looked ahead, staring at the empty fields.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Kind Lady, #b84265, solid, 10"]Ellara was lulled into a sense of security being so far from town with William. There wasn't another person for miles she assumed, the nearest passerby a merchant with his cart far back on the main road. It was her own small slice of heaven on earth, condensed into the luscious field of green. The only sound which gave any audible noise was the rush of grass as the wind passed through.

Seeing as that no one else was around, Ellara felt comfortable enough ridding herself of the thick black hood. She pulled gently at the tie around her throat and let the heavy velvet fall to the ground in a heap. She felt liberated, and much more cool now that the wind was closer to the fabric against her skin.

As William sat himself down on the ground, Ellara occupied herself with a small task. Going this way and that, pulling at various colored wildflowers, until she plucked a few long stems of grass, she looked exactly the image of a bee buzzing back and forth between the colorful field to pollinate the flowers in the early spring. The buzzing was one strain of a complex Northern tune she'd heard many times from her childhood in the form of her own soothing voice, humming lowly under her breath. It played in the unruliest of bars all the way up to the highest courts of her family. The song was a perfect representation of the bitter cold and thawing spring, the Land of Eternal Winter, that's what the song was called. She felt it fit perfectly to her icy home, where it was usually sung in front of the roaring hearth and tall, deep wooden halls she remembered.

She could only hum along to the simple flute as it wove around the deep choir melody, and bounced around the heavy bass sound of the drums in her mind. Half the song was lost, it required too many voices and too many instruments for her to sing alone. Her solo tune was far from that of a buzzing bee, but she still looked the part as she jumped from bluebells to fresh white daisies. The icy cocoon to which she'd been born had given way to a beautiful Southern butterfly, still graced with a deadly sting.

"I never got to congratulate you." Ellara said with a forced expression plain on her lips. She was supposed to be happy for her sister, and her childhood friend no less, but all she felt was unease in her heart. Though she didn't say exactly what for, the implication was clear as to what she was referring. The girl sat down next to William. "You're going to have the North under your command. People will write songs about you someday, I bet. The North is fond of that kind of thing. Songs of great Kings and heroes."

Ellara strung pieces of flowers together, weaving an elaborate garland from the flowers she'd so hastily plucked from the earth. Her blue eyes were focused on the craft in her hands, and less so on William's stressed nature after catching a glimpse at her scar. She'd all but forgotten there was nothing wrapped around her throat. The ambiance was too comforting for her to feel the need to hide, but had she realized her mistake, a frightened hand would have very quickly slapped itself around her throat.

"They'll tell the tale of William the Blessed." Ellara peeked a glance his way, wondering if he was curious as to why she chose that name. The finished garland wrapped around her fingers in a grassy weave of natural Southern beauty, and playfully, she set it on William's head. She leaned up on her knees so she could reach just above his head to set the craft down as gently as possible. Smiling, she looked down on him before settling back into the grass. "You've been given a beautiful Queen, a strong nation, and you're still so young. You'll slay the ghosts which are supposed to roam the halls, and bring a little light into the otherwise uninhabited place I used to call home. Great Kaehr, all of that will be yours."

She pulled her hands into her lap. Ellara paused, biting her pink lip briefly in thought. She didn't know how to feel about the prospect of possibly being able to go home again. It wasn't a far fantasy in which she bore secrets of her true origin any longer. Great Kaehr was a short trip away from being reclaimed. The fact it still stood was beyond incredible. It was more likely a few tribal groups inhabited the walls, the noble families in the area were too fearful and too weak to possibly hope to take the castle. She still couldn't decide if she ever wanted to return. There were only horrid memories of the time her life had nearly slipped through her fingers. The sheets of her bed, still stained with a child's blood, remained untouched for a decade.

"I heard rumors that tribes have taken over the castle. No nobleman ever dared to take the city, fearing the wrath of our family from far countries. They respected us too much to truly take control, though I hear the Layne family has taken much of our previous land. They were my father's right hand family, they've kept the North in check all these years. They're so loyal to us, even believing we were dead. All that's left really is the cursed castle. Even so, to claim that, it'd be a step in the right direction. The North would be yours." Ellara jolted upright, realizing she'd been speaking her mind for far too long in front of the Prince. Even though they were alone, she had almost no right to advise him on how to conquer the North. It simply wasn't her place. "O-of course, I'm sure you knew that, or something of the matter. Who am I, but a woman of the court, to advise you on how to rule?"[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Temperate Prince, #999999, solid, 10"]The soft mellifluous tune from Ellara coalesced with the tranquility surrounding them. The buzzing sound of bee's and various of other insects, the bold and bright colors that made the butterflies presence evident camouflaged with beautiful flora -- a feeling of peace was indulged till he could feel the stress melt away from his tangible physique. The folk music from the North was being vocalized by humming. The vibrations from her vocal chords emitted a lovely sound. The tune was foreign to William, at first he could not recall what it was. The Northern's song is very upbeat compared to the Southern's beating drum grew more intense along with other instrument arrangements. Men would dance with red markings of the sun; movements were aggressive and powerful, they were usually danced by men and rarely by women. The sun Goddess nurtured the Southerners with her rays allowing their nude flesh to drink her mana, giving them strength.

A soft breeze pushed back William's dirty blond bangs. He sat there staring at the tranquil scenery and savored the sweet sounds that surrounded his being. He could hear his horse shift around, but, it didn't grapple him away from the peace. Alongside his black stallion, he heard the grass rustling. Without glancing he quickly assumed it was Ellara and her delightful antics. He closed his eyes taking in deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Slowly.

"I never got to congratulate you." The silence has broken along with his breathing. The breaths came to a halt and he turned to her. He could only give her a smile of gratitude. It was only the right thing to do, along with the evident fact that he has never had the time to have a personal moment with Ellara."You're going to have the North under your command. People will write songs about you someday, I bet. The North is fond of that kind of thing. Songs of great Kings and heroes." A King, he scoffed at the title in a contemptuous disposition. The words spoken left another heavy burden on his shoulder. His body felt uneasy. His body tensed up flexing every muscle in his body as his fingers curled, grabbing a handful of grass. Grey eyes stared down at the grass in search of an answer -- a search for relief. "They'll tell the tale of William the Blessed." A strained chuckle left his lips. "Yeah..." He said softly.

"William the Blessed...yeah..." He muttered.

The sound of rustling leaves had him startled. His body jumped slightly when he felt something landing on the top of his head. He turned over to Ellara with a hand on his head. The soft petals between his fingertips brought out a genuine smile transitioning to a joyful laugh. The mix of summer colors -- orange, yellow, red, and pink contrasted with the green of the leaves and vines that held the beautiful crown together. "You've been given a beautiful Queen, a strong nation, and you're still so young. You'll slay the ghosts which are supposed to roam the halls, and bring a little light into the otherwise uninhabited place I used to call home. Great Kaehr, all of that will be yours." It was too late before there was anymore congratulatory's from the night before. He forced a smile from his lips, he acted out in pure joy. Yet it acting grew more strenuous. He couldn't manage to force himself to tolerate the marriage.

What made matters worse was the high expectations. They were too far for his reach. People have spoken great deals of William, many muses have sung ballads of his greatness -- "I'm uneasy again..." He thought to himself.

"I heard rumors that tribes have taken over the castle. No nobleman ever dared to take the city, fearing the wrath of our family from far countries. They respected us too much to truly take control though I hear the Layne family has taken much of our previous land. They were my father's right-hand family, they've kept the North in check all these years. They're so loyal to us, even believing we were dead. All that's left really is the cursed castle. Even so, to claim that, it'd be a step in the right direction. The North would be yours."

"The Layne family..." He repeated the surname. "It's been so long since I've heard of any Northern names -- they became taboo after the fall." The words were meant to be vocalized, but his lips trembled when he attempted to open them. "O-of course, I'm sure you knew that, or something of the matter. Who am I, but a woman of the court, to advise you on how to rule?"

He found himself amused by Ellara's stumbling on her words. "Don't be. I need someone with strong knowledge of the North to guide me. I'm still foreign to the Northern part of the continent." He admitted. "What do you think the North looks like? I've heard countless stories of the horror...but they are simply just stories, right?" He turned to her in search of a ray of positivity. A few stories had subtle implications of tribes becoming cannibals due to a few mountain tribes relocating to the towns. Many tribes have found refuge nearby the castle however none have dared to enter the castle. There are too many myths that wandered around, too many horrendous myths.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Kind Lady, #b84265, solid, 10"]"Don't be. I need someone with strong knowledge of the North to guide me. I'm still foreign to the Northern part of the continent." He admitted. "What do you think the North looks like? I've heard countless stories of the horror...but they are simply just stories, right?" His curiosity sounded borderline on the grounds of fear, but, Ellara wasn't about to admit to anyone that he was doubtful of what remained in the snowy wastelands of the North.

"I still remember what it looks like, from when I was a child. In the Summer, it's just as green as the Spring here, but it never gets very warm, not really." Ellara put great effort straining to recall some bits of memory about the North from her own mind, and not the textbook description from old tomes she studied. "It all looks similar, the grass and the trees, even though the plants are different. The colors are all the same. Then, when Autumn turns to Winter, and the snow begins to fall, everything is covered. A thick, white blanket envelopes everything until it thaws again and gives way to Spring, but that Winter is all I remember. White, fresh snow beneath my feet. All the furs I had to wear to keep warm..."

Ellara smiled sheepishly once at William, and then turned away to face the grass at her feet. Talking freely about her distant past made her chest feel warm with the fire she'd long lost, the kindling refueled by her recollection of the Winter's chill. Did the Prince understand how excited he'd made her with such a simple inquiry?

"Of course, there are some stories that are true. When my ancestors some hundreds of years ago built Great Kaehr, they attempted to make peace with the tribes who had settled further North. There, it never stopped snowing. Winter was year round, and the people there lived mainly off the hunt. It was in vain, though, and not all the tribes wanted to take the easy life in exchange for declaring fealty to one man. From what I remember, there are still hundreds of small tribes which wander aimlessly through, but most are harmless. They have no quarrel with my family any more." Surely there was another rumor he was interested in, but Ellara hadn't a clue about the status of Great Kaehr. The fortress had supposedly been haunted by ghosts since the Wittacre family had been slaughtered, but she had no proof to say what was true and what was false.

Ghosts didn't exist. Only foul memories were left to darken the halls and send a chill up your spine, with no reasonable explanation as to what caused it. While specters were far from the reality of the world, emotions and memories had enough power in the abandoned fortress to leave an almost haunted impression.

"I don't know what remains of Great Kaehr now. Whatever stories you hear are probably not true, but I can't disprove them. The North is a cold, barren place, but it still has a place for a new King. There's room for you...and even me. Someday."

The wind rolled through the tall grasses again, tickling Ellara's ankles where the bare skin showed beneath her black skirts. Just as soon as it came, it was gone, and the air settled with the fresh taste of budding flowers in her lungs. The South was certainly far from the image of the North left in her mind from the time she was a child. It was warmer, and filled with happy memories of a castle where three boys became her new brothers and scampering feet across the stone halls of their home.

It was so easy then.[/fieldbox]

[fieldbox="The Stranger, #5e0d0d, solid, 10"]Caél had waited all night, pondering some opportunity to allow himself deeper into the Roivas family castle. None of the guards would recognize his face, but that wasn't the issue. He'd spent years practicing how to turn himself into no one by acting naturally, a conundrum of an operation in itself to act as if the man wasn't acting at all. No, the issue there was how many guards there were. Even sending a handful away would allow him to slip past the gates unnoticed and find an improved hiding place.

The man shuffled from his left foot to his right, eyes set on the massive gates before him from a bush on the side of the road. His concealed blade shifted awkwardly along with him, the cloak doing its best to hide the shining metal that so obviously represented a deadly weapon. It wasn't the most dangerous bit on Caél's person though, he had other weapons in his arsenal which didn't involve much more than a prick of the skin. Tricks for another time, in closer quarters.

How am I supposed to get in, or out for that matter. I don't remember the way any longer, much as I hate to admit...

Caél's memory of the castle had evaded him. There were tunnels, sure, but getting in from the outside required an apt memory for the smallest detail. A signature on a rock, which building to raid, which trapdoor led to that tunnel, that sewer, and which vat would open up. The risk was too great for having only been inside the city for a day. He had too few informants in town to be certain the information he had was reliable. Surely, he asserted, if he were allowed to roam the halls for an evening then the hidden doors would reveal themselves.

He was determined, however, to find a way inside without the use of his fading mind. As if by God's grace, a way presented itself when a large group of men stormed from the gates clad in armor for battle. Their horses beat the dirt up into a cloud of dust as they thundered past in rapid formation. At their front was a man the assassin recognized. A Northern gentleman by the name of Duncan. At his side, a young lad with no name. Caél waited for the dust to settle when the doors began to creak shut.

That's certainly a way. Caél thought, now that the gate was nearing a close. Now or never.

Come nightfall, he had a few words he wanted to say to the King. If not the King, he certainly wanted to make an introduction to the girls who had supposedly died. Edgar had sworn their corpses had been laid at his feet, taking all the fame and glory promised to the assassin. Caél hadn't been so lucky to see them for himself, as he was rudely banished from Edgar's presence, as well as the entire Southern region. He'd destroyed him then, keeping the coin promised for the job which had been done.

Kill them all, all but one girl. I don't care which. Just leave one alive.

So he did. Caél had left the blonde haired one struggling to compose herself, and the redhead in a pool of her own blood. The boy was dead, their parents dead, but she was alive. According to Edgar, the blonde had died in the ensuing chaos. Caél had never managed to live down the failure, but now?

He would take all the glory back. Every coin, and every bit of blood he could.[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Ambitious King, #1f276e, solid, 10"]Pht, pht, pht...

The pages of a leather bounded tome turned. Words were written to black ink, they were smudged by carelessness, luckily they were feasible to decipher. His stoic expression didn't leave his face as he flipped through the pages as his eyes skimmed over the words effortlessly. Important information was crammed onto the book to the brim of the pages. The soft flesh of his fingers pressed softly against the aging paper, tracking his reading. A feeling of uncertainty left a corpulent laden weight on his shoulders and his stomach to feel uneasy. He closed his eyes tightly turning his face away from the book. That feeling made him feel insecure and vulnerable. Shortly after the fall of the North Edgar grew paranoid. The Exalted King felt insecure as a child in the streets of the South. He closed the book dismissively, getting up from his chair quickly, soon to find himself staring out his window.

A gorgeous view of the Southern Kingdom laid in front of him. His merciless blue eyes looked over the prosperous city, with its lavish colors and music that constantly flows through the Kingdom. A bit far from the Kingdom lays a vast land of Southern hills and scattered farmers. It was all his, just his. But his Kingdom will not do -- he desired for something bigger, something limitless, something that touches the edges of the world, something colder. Edgar turned away from his window at the soft sound of the doorknob turning, so discretely.

The door creaked slightly as it opened. Sir Reginald appeared before him with a worrisome expression. Edgar could feel his fist tighten into a fist. "Something is wrong." He thought to himself grimly. The venerable knight showed some reluctance as he approached Edgar. Reginald's armor clattered as he moved closer to Edgar.

"King Edgar..." Reginald spoke softly. "What happened?" Edgar inquired. He had put on a stoic disposition, kept his cool.

"William has fled and cannot be found..."

Edgar felt his heart skip a beat. His fingers twitch involuntarily, a reaction towards the news.

"...Lady Ellara is also gone..." The words spoken were strained by his voice. Edgar slammed his hand against his study table. Reginald flinched at the loud slam. It was clear to see that Edgar was upset, almost furious. His face darkened. "Go find them and bring them here..." He spoke in such a grim and dark voice. The usual soft-spoken King frightened the venerable knight. Reginald stammered, trying to push out his compliance, but instead bowed and walked out quickly yelling out orders in the halls.

Edgar felt anxious at the news. His eldest son, an heir to the throne, has fled the castle with no guards beside him. The Northern heiress fled off, also gone with no protection. Edgar felt his body coursed with anger and his knuckles turning white. His most valuable possessions were running amok, with no protection, the high chance of getting kidnapped was his worse nightmare. Everybody knew that the Wittacre family was alive and well.

The sounds of men yelling orders penetrated through his glass windows. The distinctive voice of Reginald yelling orders, stallions hoofs beating against the ground, and the hallways filled with the sound of knights running left and right. Everybody was running amok. Edgar breathed in and out heavily.

If they were not found tonight, he was willing to search and strip down the entire Kingdom. Leave no stone unturned.[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Stranger, #5e0d0d, solid, 10"]Panic and chaos were voiced through shuffled feet and confused cries as soldiers rallied together once the news had spread that William and Ellara were missing and without guard. Iron clanked mercilessly against swords and armor as the men moved in disorder towards the main gate. It groaned with the heavy weight of the wrought iron, but relented to the cogs which pulled it upright. This time, Sir Reginald was at their head, and he calmed the disorder until there was little more than the quiet clang of armor being adjusted. From Caél's view, high above the courtyard, he could spot the veterans and green boys apart by how much noise they made.

On high alert, but in the wrong direction.

Caél was just another face in the pandemonium. His hood was drawn back to reveal his slick black hair, unwashed for quite a long time and in dire need of a cut. Thick, black, and every bit a compliment to the sharp edges of his face. His skin was pale, snow white as the lands he hailed from far North of the hot Southern grounds. What made the man menacing were his dark sunken eyes, weary with sleep and constantly flitting this way and that to examine his surroundings. The man would be damned to be left vulnerable in the very heart of his enemy's home. He looked crazed, and he liked it that way.

His black eyes tore away from the courtyard.

It took a mere couple of minutes to climb his way to Edgar's study. The layout of the castle made a faint impression in Caél's mind as a decade's worth of forgotten information reclaimed a place in his head. Not every corridor presented itself with a memory, but at the very least Caél could make a quick escape if need be. Hidden passages were just as common as closets and stairs in the old castle.

He pressed on the wooden door and a loud, satisfying crack announced the assassin's presence. Caél stepped in, his heavy leather boots thudded against the stone floor. At his hip, his sword shifted and made a subtle clank against his belt. All of his skills were concealed by a simple black cloak which had cost him a few copper coins, that was all it took to hide the danger. Just some copper and clever placement.

"Edgar, it's certainly been a long time, hasn't it?" Caél chuckled darkly. The man turned around, feeling comfortable enough to leave his back exposed to the King while he shut the wooden doors behind him. They slammed noisily in place and left behind an eerie silence in prelude to the war of words that would soon come between the aged pair. "You weren't so gray, last I remembered. Then again, what do I really know? A few things have slipped my mind, been proven false in the last few days."

Caél turned and glowered ad Edgar. The King looked guarded against the assassin, as if the latter dared to attack so deep within enemy boundaries. He wouldn't dare, the risk was too high, and no bounty would ever be enough to cover the notoriety of killing the King of a war mongering country.

"I'm not here to harm you, though I could if I wanted. Killing Kings isn't something I'm fond of any more, the gold disappears all the same but the notoriety lives on much longer than a common thug." There was silence, and Caél moved forward until he was only a foot away from Edgar. Both the men had deep lines around their face, aged beyond reason through stress and difficulties which couldn't be compared to a simpler man. They were tired, faces paper thin and speckled from old age, but in their eyes they were strong and confident. Motivation to persevere fueled the flames of both of their beings.

Edgar wanted to conquer.

Caél wanted to kill.

Both were forms of destruction which brought about chaos to the receiving party. Fire, ash, and death would consume their victims until the world was theirs, coffers filled to the brim with shining gold. In essence, they were almost the same man.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Caél said seriously. "About two particular girls who you told me had perished, which kept me from a fair amount of gold, and a fair amount of land. Promises I intend to claim now that I've come to discover that these two women are alive, well..." Caél quickly pulled a dagger from his belt and flashed the cold steel close to Edgar's throat. "...and in your protection. Now isn't that odd?"[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Ambitious King, #1f276e, solid, 10"]Beyond from his reach the sound of guards leaving with stallions began to fade slowly, leaving the castle silent. Edgar took in deep breaths in and out. The sudden outbursts of anger dissembled his perfectly groomed hair. A few strands fell from its position falling over his forehead. A tint of red colored his already tanned cheeks and the distinct movement of his chest implicated that he was out of breath. The ambitious King was aging slowly. The aging process weakened his knee's, turned his stoned muscles to soft mattresses, and once youthful beauty into aging wrinkles. He messaged the temples of his forehead, relieved himself of the stress that quickly built up. With all the chaos running freely, the sound of the creaking doorknob did not relieve Edgar.

A familiar figure walked in striking fear in Edgar. Caél appeared before Edgar — a person he did not expect to see again. The familiar assassin let out a few words but were not decipherable due to the effects of shock. Edgar adjusted the way he acted and returned back to his default disposition. He stood up tall with a glare in his eyes. The soft thudding noises emitting off each step heightened the tension. Edgar grazed his fingers on the top of his desk. A simple envelope knife hid under the pile of useless diplomat letters. The familiar assassin showed his reasons through his menacing expression. It has only taken him seconds to return himself back to the past by the sound of his dark and malicious voice. "Edgar, it's certainly been a long time, hasn't it?"

He was taken back to the past. A simple man Caél was, much younger and much less bulky. Yet the menacing ambiance has yet fled from his body. It darkened the room. He flinched at the loudly shut doors. "It has Caél, I almost thought you were dead." Edgar let out his own chuckle. "You weren't so gray, last I remembered. Then again, what do I really know? A few things have slipped my mind, been proven false in the last few days."

"He knows..." Edgar thought in dismay. "Maybe it's because you've aged too early." He brushed off the topic easily, but the winds brought back the dreaded truth. The assassin walked casually towards Edgar. The King didn't move, he dared not to. Both men were prideful in their work, but, Edgar was too damn prideful to step down to a lowly assassin. "I'm not here to harm you though I could if I wanted. Killing Kings isn't something I'm fond of anymore, the gold disappears all the same, but the notoriety lives on much longer than a common thug."

Edgar remembered the night before the North's fall all too well. Rebels from the outskirts of the South were brought to the border of the North in secret. Edgar was there with them reminding them of the duty, those dark words spoken in such a malicious tongue has never left his memory. There was no remanence of guilt nor regret. He remembered the young and hardened assassin who was eager to attain his wealth.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Edgar was well-aware of what words that lingered on the assassins lips. "About two particular girls who you told me had perished, which kept me from a fair amount of gold, and a fair amount of land. Promises I intend to claim now that I've come to discover that these two women are alive, well..." A blade appeared before Edgar. The sharp point pointed towards his neck. It was only a few centimeters away before it could draw any blood. Edgar kept his hardened expression. "...and in your protection. Now isn't that odd?"

Edgar scoffed.

"You failed your mission. There's two Northern heiress breathing when I specifically asked for one." He shook his head softly with disappointment. "I remember the night when my guards found two knights, a handmaiden, one wheezing blonde girl, and a bleeding red headed girl." Edgar pressed his fingers onto the desk moving each individual finger around in search of the envelope knife. "One of the knights pleaded at my guards to save the red headed girl, so we did. The grand healer healed her. I have had countless of sleepless nights whether to kill her..." His fingers pressed against something hard from piles of paper. "Instead I decided to keep her. She'll be great value to me later." He let out a soft chuckle.

"Now take that blade away from me you failure of an assassin." His fingers slid underneath the pile of paper. Then they slowly curled around the grip of the envelope knife. All he needed to do was strike.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Stranger, #5e0d0d, solid, 10"]"Failure?" Caél laughed haughtily at the King. Edgar's words were like a joke between two old friends. "Yes, I was a failure then, just a green boy in the midst of a secret war, but I'd like to think that in the ten years I've had time to hone my skills some. Besides, I don't think that what I did constitutes as a failure, wouldn't you agree?"

He released the blade from Edgar's throat and turned on his heel, pressing the cool steel back into it's sheathe and removing the danger from the room with the simple action. Caél laughed quietly again at Edgar's words, a failure he was not. The assassin had succeeded in killing off a family name, or so he'd thought, by taking the lives of husband and wife, along with their only male heir. He'd slit the throat of the red head, he clearly remembered it happening, and had left in the hopes that Edgar's men would play their part in rescuing the sole heir. It was the first time he'd had to kill anyone so young, and he recalled the pool of blood soaking into her sheets as he left her to die. The last girl, the blonde one, he had left to survive. Such was the deal that had been proposed, leave one alive so Edgar could claim the North with a union between one of his own children.

Caél didn't believe for a minute that Edgar had so kindly saved the red haired girl's life. Between the two, some details were unapparent.

"If you only wanted one, why did you let her live?" Caél pondered. "When the chaos died down, and Great Kaehr was left in ruin by the tribes which took the hold, I heard news. There were no survivors of the immediate Wittacre family. The King had no brothers, the Queen only a single niece who had perished. You told me I had not earned my pay, yet somehow those girls survived. That is why I'm here. I want to understand how such details were avoided when it came down to my payment and reputation."

The man turned back and stared coldly towards Edgar. His eyes were black narrow slits which seethed anger.

"You deceived me, Edgar. I was only useful when you need to dispose of your enemies quietly, you used me to take the North, and I'll see to it you fail. Mark my words, Edgar, I will not let this quietly slip under the rug. You may have both heiresses now, but believe me, when I'm through all you will have is blood and ash."

The oath he swore came from ten years of anger and betrayal. Countless times he'd wanted to claim the score for being the unnamed force which fell the North, but could not for fear of execution. Had Edgar actually paid his dues, none of that would have been a problem. His pockets would have been filled with gold and he would have held lands in the South. All of these promises were left unfulfilled, empty words and lost time made for a strong need for retribution.

"Perhaps I let the North slip away from your fingers. Perhaps the red blood of the Wittacre's will at last stain the fresh white snow, and be one with their beloved mother and father. What do you say to that?"[/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Ambitious King, #1f276e, solid, 10"]The words made from Caél's lips brought Edgar an exasperated feeling in his stomach. "Failure?" The casualties within his laughter were slipped off -- he hated casual tones, they felt informal.

"Yes, I was a failure then, just a green boy in the midst of a secret war, but I'd like to think that in the ten years I've had time to hone my skills some. Besides, I don't think that what I did constitutes a failure, wouldn't you agree?" Edgar let out a scoff. He brushed off his words in a dismissive way, he took none of his words too seriously after that. The tip of the blade once pressed against his neck vanished. The glimmer of the sharpened blade vanished, slipped into a leather seethe. The assassin walked away slowly keeping the distance from Edgar. He felt relief in the assassin's action. It allowed Edgar to be seated in his cushioned seat. He leaned back against the soft backing and clasped his hands together. His fingers entangled on top of each other resting on the smooth table top. Edgar softens his expression and relieved himself of a sigh. He watched as the aggravated assassin continued to pester around. He wondered to himself, how shall he rid himself of Caél. The assassin would destroy the foundations of his plans, surely. It was a simple to shut the man up, money and land; why was it so difficult to give him something so worthless? The thought was unfathomable.

Caél continued to banter. "If you only wanted one, why did you let her live?" There was a brief pause. "When the chaos died down, and Great Kaehr was left in ruin by the tribes which took the hold, I heard the news. There were no survivors of the immediate Wittacre family. The King had no brothers, the Queen only a single niece who had perished. You told me I had not earned my pay, yet somehow those girls survived. That is why I'm here. I want to understand how such details were avoided when it came down to my payment and reputation." A cold glare was shot at Edgar, who responded with a playful smirk. "You deceived me, Edgar. I was only useful when you need to dispose of your enemies quietly, you used me to take the North, and I'll see to it you fail. Mark my words, Edgar, I will not let this quietly slip under the rug. You may have both heiresses now, but, believe me, when I'm through all you will have is blood and ash."

The threats had Edgar on his toes. "Then it shall be your blood and ash that will stain this room Caél. To throw petty threats to me..." Edgar scoffed. "To believe that I will cower to your threats is remarkably ludicrous! The North is in the palm of my hands. These tribesmen are nothing but a placeholder till I stab my flag onto the soft snow." Edgar spoke with confidence, too much confidence. The North was a stronghold that protected millions. By now mountain men has also joined the pillaging and ravishments of the towns. The strong Northern families all fled to the West or East, possibly South, but not likely. The Northern men were always skeptical towards the South. There was a brooding hatred within Kingdoms -- the lack of trust left to perfidious acts. Before he was to have his eldest son marry Catherine he had already promised the Western Kingdoms his son to their daughter. Edgar had his eyes on something more precious.

"Perhaps I let the North slip away from your fingers. Perhaps the red blood of the Wittacre's will at last stain the fresh white snow, and be one with their beloved mother and father. What do you say to that?"

Edgar raised his bushy eye brow. His eyes looking at Caél with a confidence that most Kings blatantly exhibit.

"I say, you play a dangerous game Caél. Never play a Kings game, my boy. I'll have you killed or worse tortured for your years of Kings slaying." Before his lips could form the words of an order the sound of the horses returned. The beating hoofs against the ground grabbed Edgar;s attention. He turned to the window to see a glimpse of guards returning with a horse that was not festooned with the Souths emblem. On that horse was William and Ellara. He looked back at Caél. He quickly felt nervous and unsteady.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Stranger, #5e0d0d, solid, 10"]The thunderous sound of hooves beating against the cobblestone of the long courtyard could be heard from Caél's spot near the entrance to Edgar's room. The assassin smiled, and paced towards the window with the sheathed dagger in hand as he watched a range of guards pull a red haired maiden from the back of a bulky mare. Ellara. My, how she's grown. The blonde man sharing the saddle was none other than William Roivas, and seeing the two royal children brought a sly grin to Caél's lips.

It would have been easy to slay two birds with one stone. They were vulnerable, without armor and without cause for alarm. However, the countless amount of guards would prove the venture to be quite fruitless. Caél wouldn't be able to get close enough to make anything but a dent in the glossy armor worn by the Southern men. Not to mention, it would still leave Edgar with one final attempt at the North with Catherine still alive somewhere. The risk was too great, despite the reward that would have made any common assassin drool at the opportunity.

"And when they torture me, question me as to why I killed the King? What will they learn from me I wonder." Caél cooed ominously. He leaned in the open window and mindlessly toyed with a coil of ivy wrapped around the stone wall outside. "What will they learn of brother, mother, and father, so treasured by the would be wives of your own sons, your own flesh and blood? Why did I do it? Who ordered it? Which man paid the handsome price to keep his name off such a dishonorable death?"

A Northern guard with a flashy emblem polished onto his chest plate guided Ellara by the arm into the castle. Her mourning apparel was no surprise, decked entirely in thick black robes. They were quickly followed by William and another guard who Caél did not recognize. He didn't recognize any of the household guard, due to the lacking amount of reconnaissance in the South after his unspoken banishment. His ties were too weak in the South to feel comfortable during the ten years of absence. He didn't want Edgar to know he was sticking his nose in places he didn't belong. That would have to change if he wanted to bring about Edgar's downfall any time soon.

"Doesn't that look a bit suspicious?" Caél asked. "When the information leaks, people will start to doubt you. You will lose your people, and the eerie feeling in the night won't just be my own presence in the shadows. Others will be after your head, and I won't even need to lift a finger. So have me killed, if you can. Have me tortured, if you dare."

Caél strutted away from Edgar's desk with a haughty air about him. He was confident Edgar wouldn't try anything soon, not until the assassin was dealt with in one way or another. In other words, Caél had plenty of time to make his next move without having to worry about the King's play on the board. Even without an army of mindless pawns to do his bidding, the assassin was a powerful player, with tricks up his sleeve more lethal than a blade. He wasn't bound by rules, as the King was.

"Until next time, Edgar."

Caél pulled the doors open and stepped into the hall. In an instant, he was gone. Hood pulled up around his face hidden in shadow, Caél lurked in the shadow of Edgar's home.

When all you love is gone, and I finish what I started. [/fieldbox]

[fieldbox="The Kind Lady, #b84265, solid, 10"]Nervously, the Northern heiress held tight to Sir Kelly's arm in the hopes it would calm him down. His brow was creased and red in anger with the child he'd been protecting for a decade. Where his hair stopped growing and his skin was bald, there was no clear definition. His fiery red hair matched his complexion all too well. Duncan's movements were rigid and quick in response to the upset he felt. The knight was right to be angry with Ellara for running off, but he couldn't help but be grateful nothing had happened to her.

"The King wishes to see you, both of you." Duncan added the last bit loud enough so that William could hear without having to turn around and face the Prince. "Leaving without guard, immediately after the announcement of the Lady's return and the Prince's engagement - foolish. Both of you are foolish."

"I- I went to pray. At the shrine." Ellara whimpered. She pulled the black hood up around her throat. Duncan looked down at her and sighed in defeat. His anger couldn't hold for long with the girl, for her innocence was too great, and his fondness of her too strong to allow himself to get any more riled up about her sneaking away. Even Duncan saved time to pray on the day of the Wittacre family, he'd sworn an oath to protect them and he'd failed. Praying was the only thing he could do now that their souls had gone to the heavens. He could, however, direct some of his fury towards William for not immediately returning Ellara posthaste.

"You, Prince William, should be ashamed for not bringing her back instantly. She is to be your sister in law, and is currently a very high risk target. You know this."

"Sir Kelly!" Ellara gasped. Quickly, she whipped up a lie she hoped would quell the knight and give William some sort of reprieve from any punishment he would have received from the Northern guard. "Let him be, I asked him to take me to the fields after he found me. It's not his fault."

"In any event, I have words for both of you but they'll not be spoken in public. When the King is done with you, return immediately to your room Ellara." Duncan ordered the red haired girl, and she grumbled a quiet confirm. It wasn't the first time she'd been confined to her quarters, and it wouldn't be the last.

The massive party of knights and royals moved through the halls until they were nearly upon Edgar's quarters. Servants slipped around the crowd without a word, quietly averting their eyes to remain unseen and unremembered. Somewhere along the lines they passed a man in black whose face was hidden by the shadow it cast. He looked distinctively out of place. His movements were too fluid, and his appearance so carefully composed Duncan paid him no mind, but Ellara felt uneasy being near him for the brief moment they passed. She felt a pair of eyes on her, as if she were being watched, but she brushed it off as unease for the coming punishment and paced onward to her doom. The feeling passed, and the man was nearly forgotten.

"Would you like me to wait outside for you?" Sir Kelly asked Ellara.

"You're welcome to." Ellara replied.

It put the knight's mind at ease to know he could wait just outside without losing sight of the girl again. That being said, he bowed his head respectfully before turning to stand sentry outside the large set of doors. His fist was held tight over his chest in a display of Northern salute. Ellara bowed her head in response and curtsied with one hand, the other around her throat. William was still behind her, also preparing for the same miserable fate of his father's words inside. Would he be furious? Pleased? Did the King want to praise his son for bringing Ellara back, or punish him for leaving in the first place? What would he say to the girl? She'd never spent much time alone with the sovereign man.

Ellara gulped hard and turned to William before they entered the King's room. The doors slammed shut behind them. [/fieldbox]

 

[Rambunctious]

[fieldbox="The Ambitious King, #1f276e, solid, 10"]A flash of dark blonde hair kept him on his toes. Wisps of red hair were blown gently by the Southern wind, the darkened clothing was a sign of mourning, "The Fall of the North". The bards sang their sorrowful songs of the Great Kaehr, Northerners weep till death, and the heiresses are left with only tarnished white snow. Edgar has only visited the North shortly after the fall -- monstrous flames swallowed up villages, screeches from afar pleaded for help, and the malicious chuckles from tribesmen filled the cold air. The North was a pity. There was no remanence of regret or guilt. Edgar only felt the power surging through his body. Yet he has yet to attain power over the four other great continents, the desire for more was eminent, surely. However, with his foolish son running amok he feared the consequences of losing his eldest son. Allistar was too indecisive to become a the King and his youngest, Timothy, was far too childish. William was his only hope.

Edgar looked at Caél turning away from the window. The assassin's malicious tongue slipped out from his lips. "And when they torture me, question me as to why I killed the King? What will they learn from me I wonder." The playful assassin toyed with Edgar, but he would not allow the assassin to fool him. "What will they learn of brother, mother, and father, so treasured by the would-be wives of your own sons, your own flesh and blood? Why did I do it? Who ordered it? Which man paid the handsome price to keep his name off such a dishonorable death?"

A scoff escaped Edgar's lips. "I'm no fool Caél, I'll have them speak no words to you." He crossed his arms with a smug countenance on his face. The assassin positioned himself to the window certainly watching with lecherous eyes. Edgar spoke no words to the assassin's actions. Instead, Edgar would glance for a short moment of time and look away from time to time. "Doesn't that look a bit suspicious?" Caél cooed curiously as he exhibited the actions of a child. Edgar stood still and refined in his actions. His heartbeat sped up once William and Ellara vanished from the courtyard. "When the information leaks, people will start to doubt you. You will lose your people, and the eerie feeling in the night won't just be my own presence in the shadows. Others will be after your head, and I won't even need to lift a finger. So have me killed, if you can. Have me tortured if you dare."

"I was not King by speaking truthfully. Gossips can only chip my status, do what you will Caél, but mark my words -- harm any of the Wittacre girls and I will have you beaten till your senses can no longer function." He expressed the words in a darkened tone, laced with poison. Edgar looked over at Caél sharing eye contact for a single moment, only to glare at him. The wrinkles in his face became prominent.

The moment went silent, only the incoming sound of guards who flooded into the room filled the silence. The footsteps gradually grew louder, which applied pressure on Edgar. In the end, Caél left with haunting words, "Until next time, Edgar."

Edgar himself was silent, watching the assassin slowly leave the room. His leather boots squeaked loudly but slowly. It mocked Edgar, which infuriated the King. The doors closed behind him leaving Edgar to himself. He sat down on his chair, leaned back against the cushioned backing and stared at the door. The sounds of guards approached at a faster rate. He could hear the distinctive sound of Ellara's and Sir. Kelly's voice. As soon as their voice became clear as the day he sat up and began to look through diplomatic papers, appearing as if he was busy. The doors opened widely, William and Ellara entered the room. The nervous aura that lingered around them was blatant. With a single hand motion, the doors slowly shut loudly leaving Edgar with Ellara and William.

Before he spoke he let out a sigh piling up the papers in an orderly way. He stood up slowly and began to circle around his desk. His fingers danced around the desktop and his eyes averted from looking into the nervous expressions on the two's faces. The room was silent for a moment until he began to speak.

"Ellara, I would have least expect you to leave the castle without any protection." He glanced up at Ellara then down on the desk and stopped at the left side with his fingers still attached to the glossy table. "You must be more careful nowadays. After the party, there are dangerous people lurking around the city, that would do anything to attain one of the last daughters of the Wittacre family..."

"Like that damned assassin..."

"Please be more careful. Next time bring one of the guards or knights with you or at least your own knights. If this happens once more I will have to assign a guard to follow you morn till nightfall, understood?" Once he received a nod or an agreement he sighed. "Please return back to your solace my Lady. I'm sure your knights would deal with you personally." He nodded her off, leaving William in the room. The doors shut softly, which left the room in complete silence. He glanced to notice his son standing still as a statue, averting any eye contact with Edgar.

"You disappoint me, William." He spoke in a malicious tone laced with dejection. "Why did you go out looking for Ellara? She is not your wedded one nor is she any of your importance." Edgar stated. "She's my friend..." William muttered under his breath. Edgar scoffed. "Friend? Worry about your Kingdom first before risking your life for a 'friend'." The tone brought out a disgusted mien on William's face. "From now on you will be protected by Sir. Reginald, twenty-four seven. You will also not be able to leave the castle unless I say so." William was quick to speak against his father's orders, much like his mother. "I will do as I please." William snarled. Edgar walked towards William quickly with his hand raised above his head. In a blink of an eye, his hand strike down on William's cheek almost knocking his body to the ground. The King turned away from the sight of his son and looked down at his desk. "Don't you dare speak to me like that." His voice growled. A prominent red bruise appeared on William's face, a part of it was covered by William's hand.

A small knock on the door diminished the palpable tension in the air. The door opened slightly, a maidservant walked inside the room. There was no expression on her face it was stoic as everybody else's. "Her Grace would wish to see her eldest son." A monotonous tone was vocalized.

"Did you hear her? Get out of here..."
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