Ties Unbroken

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Kind Lady, #b84265, solid, 10"]Peter sighed, his lips tight as he exhaled through his nose. Edgar had yet to answer the real question. It was not the fact that he'd kept their identity a secret from the world, and not that he hadn't returned them to the North after the fallout. All of the decisions were incredibly rational on Edgar's part, but at the heart of things one truth remained.

"I didn't ask why you wouldn't return them, Edgar." Peter's voice quieted the room with the newest revelation of the council. "I asked why you didn't tell me that they were alive. I served the girls father for many years as his advisor, of all the men in the North, I would have been the first to contact with news of their lives. Yet, you waited ten long years and I heard it from a simple rumor."

Bryant placed his hand on his father's shoulder at the obvious signs of rage brewing inside Peter's chest. His nostrils flared in anger and he could barely keep his eyes off of the Southern King. He sat tall at the end of the table as if it were a throne, watching over the other three nations like they were dogs. Edgar wasn't above them all, Peter reminded himself.

"King Arrick, Queen Annalise, and the young Prince Finnegan." Peter mumbled angrily. "They are dead. The family I helped raised, and you didn't dare so much as to allow me the information-" Peter hushed himself and again the council fell quiet. "You were just in keeping them safe, but not in keeping them from knowing I was searching for them. How many nights I spent wondering if they had escaped somehow."

Ellara lowered her eyes. She hadn't heard those names in years, her own family. It was hard to remember them. The red head wrung her hands in her lap awkwardly as the past flooded her mind with sensitive childhood memories. The memories were painful, and very far away in her mind, because she was only a girl of eight in the most recent events. Of all the things, the most intense memory was the scent of lilac perfume. The flower was rare in the North, due to the heavy snowfall, but somehow her mother always managed to have a bottle of the fragrance nearby. Ellara couldn't hardly think of many times spent with her brother, Finny they called him. He was older than Ellara and Catherine, had he still been alive Finnegan would have turned twenty six years in the Spring. Then there was her father. So many warm thoughts were intertwined with the thought of the late Northern King.

But they were gone.

"...Ellara?"

A subtle call of her name brought Ellara back to attention. She couldn't tell if the council had said anything else, her mind was elsewhere. It was only when Catherine touched the pale back of her hand did Ellara come to. Her blue eyes strained to lift themselves from the floor, and back to the table, where all the focus had turned to the Northern end of the room. Catherine left her hand atop her sisters as the voice called again. It was Graham, his query left an unexplained and desirable answer in the air.

"What happened that night? How did you both manage to escape?" He asked carefully.

The sisters tensed up at the same time, a rare sight to see the blonde heiress so uncomfortable in the face of other nobles. Usually she was the epitome of royalty, but now she looked like a soaked kitten left out in the rain. Delicate, scared, and looking for a place to hide. Sadly there was nowhere to run. Ellara looked even more frightened than Catherine, the shadow of the same kitten. Together though, they remained, and it eased them slowly. They had survived, and every day they would be reminded of the fact so long as their lives were intact.

"I don't really remember much." Ellara explained honestly. "I remember there being fire, and the air was heavy with the smell of copper. Blood. I remember being carried away by Mae- my handmaiden, Miss Maeve. She stole some horses, but that's all I really know. I don't wish to speak of it personally."

"I'm sure you will all understand if I leave out some of the gory details. It was rather traumatic for my sister and me." Catherine raised her chin and resumed a noble appearance. The only thing which gave away her fear was the subtle glint in her eyes. That, and her hands were shaking fiercely even as they held tight to Ellara's. "Sometime in the night, I remember the alarm being sounded. Bandits, armed men, barbarians, hordes of men had somehow managed to swarm the castle grounds right under our noses. It was as if they knew exactly where to strike. Critical information, not something we give out exactly to our enemies. But, I digress.

"My mother and father came for me first, and we had gone to get my brother. That was when we found his body, still in his bed as if he were asleep. We had to leave him there. So we went to find Ellara, I feared the worst."

Ellara couldn't listen as her sister continued to speak. Her most painful memory, literally and emotionally. She closed her eyes and tried to remember something happier. The fields of flowers she'd visited with William came to mind, and she grasped for that moment in time, wishing it to be real again. Amidst the warm summer breeze the pair had relaxed in the afternoon heat. The scent of wildflowers was all around them.

"She owes her life to Maeve. When we found Ellara, Maeve was clawing at a man with her bare hands like some kind of bear. He'd attempted to kill my baby sister, and in the process had slit her throat. Had Maeve not been there to stop this would be assassin, there would only be one Wittacre child sitting here today."

"Ellara...my poor child." Peter's expression was pained as he listened. It took all his will not to embrace her, but Catherine wasn't done speaking.

"Our mother told us to run, so we did." Catherine was expressionless, cold almost, but she had to be in order to recount the night. "It becomes a blur. Sir Duncan found us as we tried to escape, so he followed. We couldn't reach the courtyard stables, and so we continued to run. The only way we were able to get outside the city was by using a lesser known tunnel system on the outside of the wall. The whole city was on fire, barbarians at every turn. We managed to acquire some horses outside the gates. Ellara was dying, Duncan was growing weak, we had no weapons, nothing, not even a few copper. In a few days time, we were at the Southern border. From there, it's not much of a story really."

"It's likely someone else knew of these tunnels you speak of. Don't you think?" Bryant suggested.

"I've often thought of that, but they're extensive, and not exactly mapped out onto parchment. There are dozens of endless routes, looping back onto one another. Navigating them would take time, and dedication." Catherine shrugged. "But it's possible. I just never wanted to imagine that someone would take the time to mobilize an army to get into Great Kaehr. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss."

"And what about this assassin? One man sent to strike in the midst of a surprise attack?" Bryant gripped the handle of his sword. His brows crossed in confusion. All of the new information had become overwhelming, piecing it together was going to be a problem. He stated his simple conclusion. "I don't get the idea this was random. Not any more."[/fieldbox]

 

[Cain]

[fieldbox="The Skeptical Knight, #808080, solid, 10"]The discussion grew heated and the atmosphere became tense.

Reginald stood still, a statue that was improperly placed behind the King. His hand was on the handle of his sword, his thumb circling around the round pommel. He watched the table with eyes of a hawk. He couldn't help but ponder about the intruder. The castle was at the pinnacle of top protection - most men were pulled from their homes to protect the godforsaken castle with their life. Not a single notable member of the Nations will be injured, not even the Layne family. Each person within the room was to be protected, regardless of bad blood.

The discussions swell into an intense interrogation, directed towards Edgar. Everybody had no qualms with pestering the King with inquiries about the girls survival. Of course, the King dodged his questions and simply refused to answer them. The girls survival was a phenomenon in the castle. He could clearly remember the day when the girls have appeared in their front steps. A knight of the Northern nation worn a frightened expression. With them was a small young girl, dying, possibly on the verge of dying. He thought nothing of it, her death meant nothing to him. He held no oath to her. Reginald was hesitant to deny the group of survivors.

However, they were greeted in by worried maidservants. If it weren't for the compassionate maidservants, he would've left them. Now, they were alive and soon to marry themselves into the Southern monarch. It didn't sit well with Reginald - he became skeptical about the two. Pretty faces longevity lasts only for a few years, best use it carefully.

The longer the council meeting went on, the more Reginald felt jittery. In his luck, the same guard returned by his side. With a tap of his shoulder, he could hear a metallic thump, soft and inaudible to the council. He turned to see the guard with the face of despair. The color in his face vanished from before. The once rosy cheeks faded into a pallor color, almost sickly. Reginald grabbed the boy by his shoulder and led him outside. He walked a bit far from the council door, but he was close enough to keep watch.

"Well, what is it, boy?" He was impatient.

"We lost track of the man...his footsteps stopped at the East Wing," The soldier shook his head. "The worst news has yet to be told." Those words made Reginald severely sick to his stomach. "Two dead guards nearby two windows on the East Wing. One of the maidservants discovered the bodies - they died, possibly by choking." The guard sighed softly. Reginald clenched his fist. There was someone within the castle conjuring a ruckus.

"Keep watch of the council room. There are four guards on each corner of the council room, three outside the door. I'm going to go hunting, for this degenerate." Reginald left the boy before he could respond. The knight took long steps to the end of the hallway.

The atmosphere felt dangerous as he walked in the hallways. A killer on the loose, hungry for monarchy blood. It seemed to fit the situation. The elongated hallways held an ominous ambiance as the lit hallways were darkened. The lack of guards where he was at made his heart beat faster.

"Where the hell are you?"[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Again We Meet, #5e0d0d, solid, 10"]Caél kept his head low, ducked beneath his hood as he sat inside of a large stone hearth. In the land of eternal Summer, there was no need for the fireplace save the aesthetic it provided. In the meantime, it was his hiding place, a perfect spot for an assassin in black. He donned a black hooded cape, and carried nothing but his sword and a small pouch at his hip. The only color visible on his features was the tanned skin above his cheeks, for the rest of his face was covered in a heavy dark cloth to keep his breath concealed.

Outside the room he could hear the heavy metal as a group of guards ran past. Armor and steel collided in the brisk pace of their boots carrying them through the halls. They hollered as they moved on, alerting Caél to their whereabouts easily. He scoffed every time a guard passed by, unaware of how close they were to uncovering the position of the unknown assassin.

This is getting boring.

Caél rubbed the soot from his boots on the elegant carpet, smiling as he thought about the simple trouble he caused in the action. Edgar had given him enough problems in the last ten years, he'd do anything to repay the favor. Though there was more to his day than rubbing his feet on expensive carpets. For instance, maneuvering his way into the council meeting was high on his list of priorities. There was a family he wanted to have a reunion with, and it was long past due they met face to face once more.

The man pressed his ear to the door, and waited, finding the opportune moment to slip away and down the hall. It didn't take long to sneak his way to the same level as the council meeting, but the presence of the guards was much more saturated than any other level. He hadn't the means nor the time to steal any armor, and every man was on high alert due to his own foolish mistakes. He'd taken too many lives and yet not nearly enough, an inner quarrel he would debate with himself later in the evening.

He leaned against the outward corner of the hall and rubbed the cloth around his chin in contemplation. All he could do was scan the doorway to the council room, no real way in unless he scaled the outer walls. As he watched, a revelation dawned on him as a maidservant passed by with a covered silver platter. Every man overlooked the simple woman as she entered the room with a quiet knock.

"Well, well. Edgar, you old fool." Caél chuckled. "I found my way in then."

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​

Ellara leaned on her arm, irritated and tired of the pointed fingers being thrown. Peter and Bryant were upset with Edgar, Edgar was upset with them, the East wanted to move inward, and the West remained silent. Yet, the same conclusion was made no matter who spoke the loudest or most often. Edgar had something hidden up his sleeve, and now the other nations wanted Ellara as a sort of collateral for his misdeeds. She didn't want to be tossed around like a piece of meat, but it was the way they threw around the idea of her union with another family.

She only moved away when a humble servant placed a silver tray before her. The same tray was placed around the room, maids and men silently setting up a display of coffee and delicacies to compliment the bitter drink. It was only a courtesy that Edgar provided anything to eat at all, but with the way the council was dragging on it seemed necessary.

"Thank you." Ellara thanked the maid politely, and the woman left with a smile on her face. As the red head glanced up in thanks, she caught a glimpse of a face. His matted black hair caught her off guard, as he looked incredibly dirty, even for the fact he was a lowly servant. She shook it off as nothing. The help wasn't known for their appearances, just their help and nothing more for the most part. Around her, the Lords lifted their trays and the sweet aroma of cakes and fruit wafted into the air. The previous tense air in the room dissipated as food calmed the high risen tempers. Ellara lifted her own expecting something sweet to her tastes, and was struck with instant horror instead. She bolted upright out of her chair and dropped the tray, all eyes were attracted to the sudden outburst of noise from the Northern end of the room.

"Wha-" Ellara gasped. "What sick joke is- I-"

An ornate dagger sat upright out of her would be dessert, stabbed perfectly into the center of the delicacy. Sliding down the handle was a lick of fresh blood, sickly crimson and all too real. On the end of the hilt was a massive ruby, set to the standard of a King, surrounded by smaller topaz gems. The blade's presence shocked her into complete silence. A knife on her platter alone was enough to stun her, it took her off guard as well as some of the men sitting around her. There was silence. She thought she'd be sick. Ellara threw a hand up to her mouth and dashed to the door without another thought except to get out of that room. She wanted it to be a joke, but it was too cruel to be in jest, the mood too serious for swordplay.

"Ellara!" She heard her sister's voice calling after her, but the younger sister would not turn back. Before the door closed, Catherine's ranting could be heard in the hallway as her fury rose. "What is the meaning of this, who dares threaten my sister..." Her voice faded behind the thick door.

"Lady Ellara?" A guard asked with surprise. "Are you alright M'Lady?"

"N-no, I'm leaving. Send a guard to my room this instant." Ellara snapped, which was out of character for the young lady. She closed her eyes and paced briskly away from the council. The blindingly obvious threat put her heart into a panic.

"Yes M'Lady, ah, wait, where're ya going?" The guard called after Ellara, but she was too fearful to answer. She sprinted down the hall with her skirts in her hands to keep herself from tripping over her own dress. Tears welled in her eyes. She was being irrational, but her heart told her otherwise, pounding dramatically in her chest with every slam of her foot against the cold floor. Keep running, she told herself, and don't stop.

After ten long years, a fated reunion took place. As Ellara ran in fear, she had no idea of the man who waited around the corner until his hands were around her throat and their eyes met. Caél, with mad fury, pressed Ellara to the castle wall with his hand a vice around her throat. He had to pause though, he wanted verification she truly was the fox who'd slipped from his fingers. Slowly, he pulled the ribbon away from her throat, and there it was. Failure stared him back in his face in the way of a ragged pink scar.

His smile spoke madness and nothing more as he pressed both hands around her throat.

"This time, my lady..." He growled.​

[/fieldbox]

 

[Cain]

[fieldbox="The Temperate Prince, #999999, solid, 10"]A slender blade stabbed through the food. The blade had a coating of crimson blood, that shined in the light. The ornate gold blade was of Southern blacksmith. The style was fit for the royal family - encrusted with small topaz, the handle was made with gold, and the main attraction of the blade was a large ruby. There was no doubt in mind that it didn't belong to the royal family.

Ellara's sudden reaction triggered William to pull out the blade. He watched as the young woman fled from the room with disbelief. The nations representatives went into a sudden outburst. The first was the West, "What is the meaning of this King Edgar?" It was the first for Bellocose Ambrose to raise his voice. A sonorous decibel he spoke in, laced with anger. "So it was you!" Bartholomew Baxtar accused, his finger pointed at Edgar.

William looked back and forth as the table began to turn into chaos. He looked back at the closed door with a sickening feeling. He turned his heels around and ran out of the room. The unsettled sensation in his stomach had his clutch onto the blade tightly. The hallways echoed with worried footsteps, he passed my numerous of worried guards. They were all high-strung due to an outsider running amok within the castle walls.

He ran further and stopped his heels at the sight of an unknown predator. The young prince softens his footsteps, lurking closer. His eyes widened at the sight of Ellara. Her fragile life in the cusp of two large hands. Without thought, he charged towards the man with the blade. There was no thought in his actions, just carelessness.

He jammed the blade right into the Cael's shoulder blade.

Ellara fell from the man's grasp. She crumpled to the floor choking on her own struggled breaths, her vision was reeling from black and yellow dots and beginning to resume the colorful tones of the embellished hall. Two flashes of color blurred before her in combat, but she was a bystander, not an armed maiden.

Cael felt the short blade in his shoulder and responded instinctively by reaching back in an attempt to wrench it free from his flesh.wrenching it free of his flesh. It was too late, the dagger retracted and a spurt of blood followed the dramatic arc of William's lunging stab. She let out a shriek and fell on her back, confusion and fear prevalent in her eyes.

The dark red liquid splattered against the front of William's chest plate, the rest pooled around Ellara's feet and stained the hem of her skirts.

"Stay out of this! This is a contract between the girl and me, but I will not hesitate to put my sword in your gut if I need to." His thick accent was reminisce of the Northern tribal tongue. His slick black hair and wild eyes only further persuaded the idea he was of Northern heritage. Not that hardly any of that mattered. All Cael wanted was his change at revenge, and there was no way he would allow another man to take that from him.

Cael lunged forward with his fist clenched to get William to attack, and came in hard with his broadsword on the second swing, hoping to feel the blade slice easily through the other man's body. He didn't anticipate a long fight, but still. He needed to act fast before there were reinforcements.

The gold armor was thin, useless in battle. However, with the light armor, William was able to dodge the attackers attacks with ease. He rolled to the right - in a vulnerable position on the ground, he was only able to dodge. The dagger was no longer on the strangers shoulder blades, which made William concerned.

The sword dug into the ground, it left a deep dent. He was relieved that his demise has yet to catch up to him. He pushed his body off the ground and shifted into a defensive position. William's movements were minuscule. He made no time to make careless mistakes - he needed to protect Ellara. His eyes met with the strangers. He was wary of any significant movements, he took occasional looks around the floor in search for the blade.

Till his eyes met the golden blade, he maneuvered his body towards it. He did not want the strangers gaze to depart from his. This was the young princes first duel with a fighter outside the castle walls. His heartbeat was too fast for him to catch up, his chest moved up and down from heavy breaths, and his hands were clammy. With another step, he quickly lowered his upper body and snatched the blade.

"Go Ellara! Get the guards! I'll take it from here!" He spoke ever so bravely. "You, sir, will not be going anywhere." Those words of courage concealed the scared little boy inside.

Cael's eyes averted from the inspired Prince and down to the red headed girl. She was frozen with fear, and the man's demand had little effect on her will to run. The assassin smirked. There was something between the man and woman before him, a bond Cael knew exactly how to exploit.

Ellara tried to move but faltered, her feet tangled up in her skirts and she didn't know whether to cry or curse. She glanced up to the chaos and her instincts told her to flee. Hard as she tried, she continued to slip over the mess of fabric and blood on the floor.

"You're mistaken, boy, I got in and I will get out, and no one will ever know what happened here today," Cael smirked. He took a misleading step towards William, who had drawn him into a new battle. The boy looked ready to fight, despite the sweat beading on his brow. He rose his sword in the air with both hands and brought it down hard.

Only, his sword moved to the innocent red head on the ground.

I will finish this, right here, right now. He thought.

The slight movement brought William on the offense. The sudden change in movements mustered out a panic attack. The young prince turned his attention toward Ellara; the sword swung down at the docile redhead. His eyes widened and his body reacted. It was a split-second moment, as his body ran to the girl, slid down on the floor. His right hand reached out to the girl.

He had forgotten about his safety. The sword had failed to reach Ellara when Williams body overlapped her's. The sword had fallen on top of his back, clashed against the thin armor - the blade shattered the thin armor and cut through his clothes. The blade sliced his back open. Luckily, it failed to hit any important organs. However, the pain was excruciating.

William released a loud groan of pain. He gritted his teeth down as the sword slid out of his body. "G-get the hell out of here Ellara!" The words seeped out of his teeth.

The young prince took no time when he rose from the ground, weakly. With his small blade, clutched tightly in his fist, and his body in front of Ellara's he was ready for more attacks. His breaths were ragged and sweat rolled down his forehead. William had yet to unleash an attack at his opponent. He simply prayed that Ellara would rise from her feet and gather help.

The wound on his back bled, the blood stained his clothing and the armor. The pain handicapped William's movements. The celerity he once exhibited vanished as the pain gradually grew.

In spite of the pain, William took it upon himself to incite the stranger. The young prince made an advance toward his opponent - the slender blade was headed towards the strangers abdomen.

Cael was too slow to defend. The brutal swing down on his opponent had left him reeling in pain from the only wound on his body. He grimaced painfully and his defense was lowered only momentarily as he panted. William's jab, had it been a second later, would have missed entirely.

Again Cael was sent reeling back as the very blade he used to threaten Ellara was slicing a new opening into his flesh. A flash of pain hit him like a tidal wave, and again Cael had to stop every motion to absorb the hit. He fell to his knees, the blade a burning pain in his side.

"Will...W-Willi..." Ellara couldn't scream. Her voice was gone with fear. As William turned his back to fight the assailant, a new pool of blood fell from his back. Bright crimson beads mixed with sweat and fell silently at her feet. Finally, though, she listened, and she ran.

"Guards!"

She was gone. Cael grunted in frustration. His target had escaped just like that, and now he was left with more damage to himself than he would've liked. So he turned his focus back to the man before him and glared. In an instant, his hand wrapped around the man's and they grappled for the blade in his gut.

"You've no idea what you've done," Cael warned. Hie eyes were akin to the two narrow slits of a viper. His poisonous words left the air cold in their wake. "You've no idea how long I've waited for this, I will not let a boy get in the way of my revenge. I don't care who you are, today, you die."

William and the strangers eyes met, both eyes protruded fury. "Y-you won't get your revenge till...till I'm dead," He promised. There was not a single weapon in the boys hands. His fists were bare, his back flared up into a burst of warmth, his breaths turned to heavy pants, but his mental endurance was good enough for a war.

William told himself, "Wait for the guards...wait for the guards..." The thought echoed in his mind.

"Why don't...you come at me...with your fists?" He was unable to catch up to his breath. The heaviness of his pants broke apart his sentences. The intimidating factor about him vanished as he spoke to his opponent.

Weakly, he shifted his body into an attack position. William knew, he knew he was in no shape or form to fight against the stranger. The lack of armor or weapon made him appear as a defenseless critter. The odds were against him, they always were.

"My fists?" Cael scoffed. He jerked his chin up and chuckled, mocking the suggestion. "I'm not here for a fair fight."

He raised his sword high in the air in an attempt at a second swing. His shoulder throbbed in pain, and his abdomen wasn't helping him lift the weight of the weapon. Cael appeared steadfast in his attack, but on the inside he knew it was a matter of seconds before the battle was decided.

"William!"

There came the sound of a group clattering down the hall in their heavy armor, led by a flustered red head stained with the blood of the stranger and the Prince. Cael was momentarily stunned, he wasn't able to defend himself against a handful of guards in his wounded state. He turned to flee down the hall when two frail hands yanked him back. Ellara, in a state of pure adrenaline, ripped Cael to his knees by the back of his hood until a nearby guard pulled her out of the way and restrained her from any other risky behavior. She thrashed irrationally in his arms, desperate to get to William and tend to his wounds, but the guard had the upper hand in keeping her detained.

"In the name of the King, surrender your weapon!" A guard shouted. Easily, they kicked away Cael's blade. He closed his eyes and let out a lengthy sigh.

I'll have to try again it seems.

The blessed sound of clattered armor brought William to his knee's. The exhausted prince was only able to muster a smile of relief. The clear vision of the devastated stranger grew fuzzy. His vision slowly gave out. William fell to the ground. The voices vanished and he could no longer think.

The rest of the council ran toward the scene - many perturbed expressions was drawn on their face. His siblings came toward him, the King glared at Cael. The council began to whisper as the maidservants came to William's aid.

The guards took Cael away from the scene. Everybody had their eyes on William - the blood gushed from his sliced back. William's body was carefully moved away from the scene to his bedchambers, where he will be in immediate care.

The young princes body was placed on his stomach. Healers walked in and out of the room constantly. The blood did not cease the first night nor did it the second. There were Southern herbs placed on top of the boys back, chants were spoken, and prayers were left for the Goddess of the South to answer.

Edgar prayed for his son for a quick recovery. The wedding will not be delayed, Edgar was sure that everything will fall into place.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Kind Lady, #b84265, solid, 10"]Three days passed, in a whirlwind of medical staff and whispered prayers for William's safe recovery. Ellara never left his side out of guilt, for had it not been for her sudden exit from the council room she wouldn't have needed defending. William wouldn't have been injured. It could have been prevented had Ellara simply remained calm, but instead she had to overreact and cause problems. She felt awful. In those three days she refused to leave, not even finding comfort in food or drink. She didn't even sleep.

Her red hair was oily and thin, in dire need of a washing. So she'd wrapped it up into a sloppy braid and curled it into a bun. Catherine had insisted she leave, but Ellara couldn't bring her self to be anywhere but by William's side. So she continued to stay in the hope that William would wake up, and then, she didn't know. It was a waiting game with god and death, a match to decide Wiliam's fate.

Ellara sighed and looked longingly out of William's tall bedroom window. Through the thin lining of the curtains she could see there was light outside, morning. She sat in a small wooden chair at his bedside, her hands fiddled with the tome she had favored since childhood. Tales from the South, something William's own mother had read to her in her own time of need. The tables had turned, and now Ellara began to read simple stories even though William was deep in slumber. She didn't know whether or not his slumber allowed him to dream, but she hoped that through her murmured words of valor and bravery William would be able to join the heroes of the South in their glory, even if only in simulation.

After an hour of reading she sighed again and set the book down on the sheets at William's feet. Perhaps he couldn't hear her, she thought, otherwise there would have been a slight reaction. A shift beneath his eyelids or a flinch in his hand. But, there still wasn't a sign William was aware of anything in his coma. Ellara yawned loudly and allowed herself to rest her eyes, falling gently into her arms as she knelt against the top sheet.

When she awoke, it was dark, and she lay curled up in her own bed.

-----------------------------​

William had opened his eyes again in a few days time. The South rejoiced with the recovery of their noble heir. Catherine was glowing, now that she was assured the wedding was back on, and with a new fervor. The entire Kingdom buzzed with news of the royal wedding being rushed ahead, and news of reclaiming the North followed in suit as a curious rumor. Edgar had seen to it that the union of his son and the Wittacre heir be as soon as possible, with the hope that he might use Peter's armies while he still had them in his grasp. With so much news there was boundless activity flourishing through the streets, and the South shined in the way it was meant to under the radiant sun. Red and gold banners hung in the streets, accompanied by pale blue banners in Catherine's name. For once in the last decade, the Southern and Northern forces were together in one city without any conflict on the horizon. Through liquor and merriment they could be tolerant of one another.

Catherine had the dress sewn together by the royal tailor and the vows were fresh on her lips, ready to pass a sweet 'I do' to her husband to be. While Catherine was joyous and cheery, Ellara found that all of the activity made her anxious. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach she couldn't ignore. A heavy weight laden in her chest, something she didn't have the heart to speak out loud now that it was too late for her make anything more of her feelings. She kept to herself, and preparations blossomed around her, leaving the young heiress alone to her own private thoughts.

Her eyes darted to the floor. She stood front and center to the royal wedding, and was able to hear the happy sobs from the crowd behind her. Yet, the red head wanted to let out tears of grief. On the wedding day, she knew she would lose something she'd only just realized she so desperately wanted, so direly needed. Something, this something, Catherine had stolen from her before Ellara really knew it. A Southern priest officiated the ceremony at the front of the room just behind William and Catherine. The former looked wounded, but was able to stand. His pale complexion was a result of his injuries and blood loss, but even through all of this, he looked handsome standing before the masses.

The crowd erupted into cheers for William and Catherine as they completed their vows. He, dressed in elegant velvet of his own colors, and she in white furs and rich white silk. Ellara closed her eyes and gripped her hands hard together in front of her until her knuckles were white with pain. As the noise grew louder and louder, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Tears fell down her face.

She didn't really know when it had started, but Ellara knew it was already too late. She had fallen so hopelessly in love with William.​

[/fieldbox]

 

[Cain]

CHAPTER II ; The March to the North

" In the Summer Esuna dances and sings,
In the Fall Taion is filled with jealousy,
In the Winter Taion slains Esuna,"

- A tale from the Song of Sole.​

The marriage between the two nations had brought unity and a false sense of peace. With Catherine Wittacre consummated with William Roivas, bestowed the South the ability to conquer the North. In favor of Catherine Wittacre, the Northern family, the Layne's are reluctant but willing to aid the Southern army. The Eastern Kingdom, ruled by Lydus Farshire, graced the Southern Kingdom with his presence and a fleet of one thousand men. The Western Kingdom had brought three ships filled with food - they cower behind their Kingdom eager for the rise of the North.

Soldiers prepare to head to the North - Northern territory had not been breached by Southern troops for a decade. With Morrin as their first destination, where Southern and Eastern troops shall adapt to the unpredictable Northern weather. The month-long journey will determine their endurance and will to fight through the biting cold. Peter Layne will lead the Southern and Eastern troops to Morin and to train them.

Preparation for the wars begun in the North, where the army will march up to the North. Regain the ability to endure the cruel wind. The Southern princes grow eager to enter the North and the Wittacre daughters excited to reunite with their beloved Kingdom. The sons of the Southern Kingdom prepare for the war, practicing the usage of a sword and other weapons. The two youngest are eager to slice a man's body and take their life, as for the eldest, there is evident reluctance. William Roivas is prodded with thoughts and disappointment - unable to take down the threat of a loved one. He lacked in brute strength and failed to have aimed for the man's throat nor heart.

The thoughts worsen as he lays with a woman he could not love.

During the nightfall, there lay one more restless soul. The marriage of Catherine and William had brought exuberance to the Kingdom and everybody within it. However, there was one who was not able to smile genuinely - Ellara Wittacre. Late discovery of her love for William, brought her to sadden.

The Southern monarchy prepares for war, Caél sits within Sabzur. Sabzur, a jail was known in the Southern Kingdom. It is to believe that only the progeny of a demonic entity is chained up. It's horrendous state and constant guard, it is impossible to escape. The menacing man waits for his revenge. Foolishly stopped by a young man who holds no skills in the art of combat. Engulfed with hatred and captivated by revenge, Sabzur will not contain the man too long.​

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="The Conceited Beauty, #d6bd31, solid, 10"]Through glittering eyes she watched the masses march forward through the gates. Catherine waved an overly dramatic handkerchief in her hand in farewell to the nation she'd taken hold of with her love, beauty, and confidence. The South was fond of their new princess, even if she was not mutually fond of them. It was her country, her new nation to rule and conquer, to take from the riches so she could continue to live a lavish lifestyle. She'd spared no expense when it came to her riding furs, thick white pelts of rare snowy beasts, which made her sweat in the Southern heat.

"Look at them cry for us sister, they're glad we finally get to go home, to reclaim our stronghold." Catherine giggled devilishly, too sweet to be real. Her red painted lips smiled too widely, her eyes too akin to a snake's to be genuinely interested in the trip. Ellara scowled and gave no reply. Catherine didn't notice the silence and continued to coo at the crowds as they passed high on their horses.

The armies had marched out earlier in the morning, only leaving the royal party to trail behind in their wake. It was no use to send them to the front lines where they would be slaughtered before they even set foot on an inch of fresh snow. Yet, having them come was crucial to the spirit of the troops. That, and between Catherine's begging and Peter's necessity to have her support, there was no refusal to the golden princess. Peter swore up and down that he would only fight for the Wittacre's, and so they came, as moral for the Northern armies who wanted nothing to do with the Southern troops.

"This slow pace is dull, I wonder if I can't find my dear husband." Catherine sighed. She spurred her black mare and in an instant she was off, the whooping and cheering of the Southern crowds left in her wake.

Ellara glowered after her, her eyes shot daggers at her sister's back. They'd once been close, when they were younger. The red head recalled memories of her older sister braiding the younger's hair, how they'd stay up and gossip about the men they'd learned to call cousins. Sneaking around the halls, getting to know the royal ladies, times like those seemed distant and an believable when compared to the lady Catherine had become. Ellara doubted she'd ever see that friendly, genuine, smile ever again. Not from her sister.

"You can't be upset forever, my sweet." Maeve trotted silently beside Ellara, and she attempted to be subtle but her voice was too loud. "Soon, we will be home."

"It doesn't matter." Ellara snapped. Her anger was indeed unusual, but the fact that she'd spoken at all was a relief. Ever since the wedding, she'd turned into a recluse. Hiding in her room was standard, speaking to no one became the norm. "I have lived in the South for ten years, the castle my familiar dwelling. She's taken it from me. Soon, she'll take the North from me. She's taken everything that I hold dear... everything."

William.

"I still remain." Maeve reminded Ellara. "It will have to be enough for you."[/fieldbox]