Dorian Durinson
Character
The queen was missing. Krova had risen and fallen three times and this was now the fourth night with no sign of her.
Three nights was nothing.
And yet
The first night when she had not come to him, he had thought little of it. War left little time for pleasantries and Aelin had many and more that vied for her attention.
And yet
The second night without her he thought more of it but not enough for concern. Things between them had recently frayed some and perhaps she had not wanted to see him.
And yet
The third night came and again she had failed to make herself available to him. His concern…nay, his disappointment was clear but again he brushed it aside. She was, after all, her own. He held no more claim to her than her of him. If she chose to spend her time with another that was her prerogative.
And yet.
Now on the fourth night it was not Aelin he waited for in his personal chambers.
Dorian, son of Durin, sat in front of a dying fire. The shallow flame failed to combat the cold of winter and Dorian's breath hung in the air like mist. Occasionally the flame would find yet living wood and the subsequent crackling and popping would puncture the soft light. With each crack and each pop the room would alight as if from a streak of lightning.
It was a modest room for the Alpha of Clan Kanaka, eldest and strongest clan in The North, to whom all else owed fealty. It had once belonged to Dorian's predecessor and brother Durin V– may he hunt and feast in Freann– neither Durin nor Dorian had the heart to take the Alpha's quarter from their mother.
Modest in size and in trappings. The solar, where Dorian sat at present, was a floor above the sleeping chambers and was still quite bare. Dorian's sudden ascension to Alpha and the near as sudden decision to go to war had seen the room quickly emptied of his brother's effects with intent to replace them with Dorian's, intent that had been put on hold.
The floor was bare grey stone with some fresh rushes strewn about. The walls were similarly grey and similarly bare save for half a dozen shields. Chipped, worn, and aged, they had once been Duri's and Dorian had a fondness for them. There was a table on the far side of the room from where Dorian sat in front of the fire or there may have been. It grew harder and harder to say as it collected book after map after scroll. The result of many late nights spent in this room with Aelin.
"Your guest is without." His squire told him.
"See them in then." Dorian told the boy, never taking his eyes off the cooling embers. "When you return, see to the fire. These southerners do not take so kindly to the chill."
The boy nodded, turned on his heel and made to open the door for
Børre Drage
Three nights was nothing.
And yet
The first night when she had not come to him, he had thought little of it. War left little time for pleasantries and Aelin had many and more that vied for her attention.
And yet
The second night without her he thought more of it but not enough for concern. Things between them had recently frayed some and perhaps she had not wanted to see him.
And yet
The third night came and again she had failed to make herself available to him. His concern…nay, his disappointment was clear but again he brushed it aside. She was, after all, her own. He held no more claim to her than her of him. If she chose to spend her time with another that was her prerogative.
And yet.
Now on the fourth night it was not Aelin he waited for in his personal chambers.
Dorian, son of Durin, sat in front of a dying fire. The shallow flame failed to combat the cold of winter and Dorian's breath hung in the air like mist. Occasionally the flame would find yet living wood and the subsequent crackling and popping would puncture the soft light. With each crack and each pop the room would alight as if from a streak of lightning.
It was a modest room for the Alpha of Clan Kanaka, eldest and strongest clan in The North, to whom all else owed fealty. It had once belonged to Dorian's predecessor and brother Durin V– may he hunt and feast in Freann– neither Durin nor Dorian had the heart to take the Alpha's quarter from their mother.
Modest in size and in trappings. The solar, where Dorian sat at present, was a floor above the sleeping chambers and was still quite bare. Dorian's sudden ascension to Alpha and the near as sudden decision to go to war had seen the room quickly emptied of his brother's effects with intent to replace them with Dorian's, intent that had been put on hold.
The floor was bare grey stone with some fresh rushes strewn about. The walls were similarly grey and similarly bare save for half a dozen shields. Chipped, worn, and aged, they had once been Duri's and Dorian had a fondness for them. There was a table on the far side of the room from where Dorian sat in front of the fire or there may have been. It grew harder and harder to say as it collected book after map after scroll. The result of many late nights spent in this room with Aelin.
"Your guest is without." His squire told him.
"See them in then." Dorian told the boy, never taking his eyes off the cooling embers. "When you return, see to the fire. These southerners do not take so kindly to the chill."
The boy nodded, turned on his heel and made to open the door for
Børre Drage