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[color=808080][color=50404b][b]#50404b[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/YltxvyK][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color][color=9f7560][b]#9f7560[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/SIjp37Q][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color][color=447989][b]#447989[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/sur2LAF][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [b]harrowfield[/b][/color]
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[color=#808080]They burned the bull’s body, forged a pyre of dried wheat and pieces of wood, hacked away at trees scattered at the basin of the ridge, and set it ablaze. A vigil was kept, and prayers uttered, the heart, still clutched in Nikto’s palm, was proffered last, as a token perhaps, with uttered apologies whispered unto the chambers, a reverence for life undone, a patron of their house so humiliated and dismembered, and sworn to never be forgotten. The antlers were given to the flame, cleaned, and then purged by the grace of Ira, wreathed with a solemn promise of revenge– of honor. Seraphina took one, and Niktos the other, sharing a glance, a glimpse, it was brief, many things left unsaid and unspoken, her suspicions profound whilst his more subdued, privy to doubt, hopeful to coincidence. The looming prospect of the elaborated threat beheld a ruthlessness that dismayed his heart, his efforts so thwarted and in vain for all the connections and ravens sent, to all the negotiations of commerce, and now lamented peace. 

Though perchance it was all a part of a game, some orchestrated ploy, a defiance, a challenge to the House of Velmorra and all that it stood to gain and lose. There was truth to what Seraphina spoke of, but what she did not acknowledge, and refused to entertain, was her weighted presence as any unwed first daughter– first born, he reminded himself effectively. The wealth of the realm may have swung as a pendulum betwixt Cantlowe, Al’Seren, and Ganasen, all of which forged their strongholds in trade and established prosperous footholdings through various means of exportation; however, therein awaited a more delicate quality of affluence with bartered names and ties forged under matrimony. The authority of a name exchanged. [/color]

[color=#808080]There was plenty to be offered, and plenty to be taken. The weight of these dowries was conceptual at best. As whispered delicately by his mother, [/color][i][color=#808080]it’s a mere ornament; you could make it more than just a symbol, if your sisters are chosen, either one of them, you could solidify the North, consider a bride from the South…[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]Niktos sighed deeply, his shoulders fell with it, whilst his horse grazed at his side, never far, always close. The temperamental beast, loyal as any bound creature. Their retinue had permitted themselves and their mounts and charges to rest, the pyre smoldered now as charred wood and ashened bones, and some feet away, he had reclined to one of the lesser formations of rock that marked and scattered amongst the shadowed crest of the ridge. Cool beneath his leathers, it was a momentary reprieve, despite the circumstances. [/color]

[color=#808080]Spread throughout the wheat fields, he spotted Seraphina and her dappled mare, a knight stationed not too far off, each of them standing guard within a loosely established circumference. The carriages were positioned in the center, their crossbred draft horses brushed and tended to before they would resume their journey. Niktos knew the passage from memory, though the farthest south he had been permitted was into Everdell when visiting Raynauld, but Darron had ensured they knew the way, traveling the same routes he did when visiting the Valley. Lyric kept beside the carriages where the hounds had chosen to lie, reclining and curled beneath the axles and wheels to seek the shade. Every so often, he would see the sheer, ivory curtains pull aside, brushed delicately by pale hands, but never did Penellaphe emerge, as if restricting herself to the confines of her seat. He didn’t quite understand it, whatever vigil she kept; he only knew that Seraphina was somehow involved, their usual adoration and kinship for one another burdened and suddenly strained, a cavernous moat that circled them both, left adrift and at odds. He proposed the same inquiry to Lyric, who scoffed and shrugged, carelessly droning about the whims of women. And their sisters? Even more of an enigmatic pair thrust to varied ends of a spectrum of influence and mannerisms. [/color]

[color=#808080]The heat bore down on him, and the further they traveled, the more it would smother them, evident even now as he shed away pieces of leather, revealing the loose tunic to the subtle breeze that combed through the fields, creating waves of muted gold. Harrowfield was no Stonefallow, but the exchange from greyed, crystalline caps of snow-covered peaks was a marvel to the sloping lands, admirable for all the wealth maintained, their governance vast and foothold strict. Niktos had studied their affairs with his visiting rotations, though ruthless, Arthur was efficient, and that could not be denied. A singular bead of sweat slid down the cut of his angular jaw and fell into the hollow of his throat.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“My lord,”[/color][color=#808080] one of the knights, the few that guarded the carriage in particular, approached at such a casual distance, helm removed and positioned beneath his weighted and armored arm.[/color][color=#ffffff] “Your sister says we will move on soon.”[/color]

[color=#808080]Niktos hummed, of course she did, because that was what Seraphina did; she took charge. A part of him, he supposed, should’ve been shamed by the muddied lines of leadership, but another, shadowed corner of his heart, knew it best, for [/color][i][color=#808080]she[/color][/i][color=#808080] was the General’s daughter, and he? Just an heir by name, despondent in the shaded renown. And worse yet? His steelish gaze flitted over the grooves of armor worn by the man before him, even so heavily adorned; his eyes meandered in a slow perusal, scaling upward along a thick neck shaded by dark facial hair. Admiration, [/color][i][color=#808080]acknowledgment[/color][/i][color=#808080], all of these newly acquired wants and desires that shuddered through him with a tendril of need that slithered down to his core. [/color]

[color=#9f7560]“Return to my sister,”[/color][color=#808080] he dismissed him, forcefully, words churned out of his throat, bobbing with a swallowing front. The knight nodded slowly, carefully, tension laced thick, before he departed with a lingering glance that clung selfishly to Niktos’ brow and the curling hair that cowled his shame. For worse yet, he found his impulses split in twain, and though he resisted them (gods, he tried and did), his dreams of late became burdened and wreathed in sweat and woken by unfinished revelries of both women and men, tempting in their flesh. Aurelune, having drifted closer and privy to her master’s twining and tangling thoughts by the tightly corded muscles of his back, gently mouthed against his tunic sleeve, her chestnut mane waving, head weaving up and down. A rumbling laugh pulled from Niktos’ chest.[/color]

[color=#9f7560]“I’m fine, just… I’m fine.”[/color][color=#808080] He stood up slowly and bent to retrieve some of her burgundy tack that he had laid out and oiled, leaving it out of reach of the soft, rising rays of sunlight. She stood patiently, ears swiveling, tail swishing against her haunches, whilst Niktos assembled the pale, woolen blanket over the curve of her back, followed by the saddle and the accompanying bags, which he secured tightly by refastening the hide-fashioned cords. Her reins came next, which, as always, she lathered and fought against the bit, which settled against her tongue; the metal weighted around her lips, she yawned repeatedly, exposing the yellowed ridge of her blunt teeth. [/color]

[color=#9f7560]“I know,”[/color][color=#808080] he soothed, thick fingers brushing over the line of her mane and massaging against her withers. [/color][color=#9f7560]“Once we get in the valley, I’ll make sure that you’ll have nothing but the finest hay and oats available.” [/color]

[color=#50404b]“If you’re quite done with that dragon-mare of yours, your highness, [/color][i][color=#50404b]let’s go[/color][/i][color=#50404b].” [/color]

[color=#808080]Niktos sighed. Gods help any man who would dare attempt to win the heart of the winter blade.[/color]
[color=#808080]He wondered, in hindsight, if princesses were far more amicable. [/color]

[color=#808080]Perhaps it was just all wishful thinking, in the end. [/color]


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[color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] - - - [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] cantlowes; aruther & raynauld. [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none[/color]
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