Private Of Dragons and Lions

[Valkoryen Sunfell]

M I D V I N T E R
Thurion Heavenshield​

It was a long trip aboard the Brightfyre to Midvinter, a world on the other side of the Galaxy. Yet Valkoryen had little issue with fighting boredom, He in fact, had never been bored since He could remember. There was always something to do, always something to improve, always something to plan and prepare for. If it was the mere customs of a far-away world and its history or if it was intense meditation, He never lacked an occupation. The Epicanthix spent His time isolated from the rest of the crew and retinue, in a deep state of subconsciousness. Hovering several inches above the deck, dressed in a simple tunic and pants, otherwise barefooted, the man had His eyes closed and arms extended with the palms upwards.

The currents of the Force were difficult to navigate, more challenging to understand unless one succumbed to madness or delusion. Valkoryen was attuned, He was calm and steered His mind to flow with the Force. Lacking any connection or sense for time, He spent almost the entire journey in this state and mere hours before arrival that would change. A spasm, a rupture, His hands clenched into fists after minutes or hours of His expression hardening, tensing. The serenity was suddenly swept away by something, not only Him but everyone on the ship felt His reaction, it even made the reactor skip a beat. Yet He did not fall or lose concentration. Slowly He returned to the floor and opened His eyes. Golden and bright they offered the briefest of moments an insight into the otherwise enigmatic mind: concern.

✠ ✠ ✠ ✠ ✠​

The ship of Valkoryen had entered the orbit in the upper atmosphere. It was from here already that the beauty of Midvinter was nearly overwhelming, the clear air, the snow covered mountain ranges, lakes like mirrors in between. It was a strangely calming and beautiful paradise.

While Valkoryen was not immune or blind to the beauty of nature, He was pragmatic as well. Ideally, both were able to go hand in hand as Zakuul was showing. Billions lived in the hive-towers reaching beyond the clouds and the rural regions were virtually untouched, left as they were while the inside of the monolithic structures were bright, light, green and clean. He found Himself marveling at the same here. It was a long time since He had visited the world and He would make it as useful and joyful as the occasion allowed.

Anyone in Heavenheim if looking into the sky would notice a dark dot growing larger, not as fast as a shuttle would be but certainly swift. And it was moving, as in, organically. The closer the dot came, the more detail became visible. Massive wings carried a large dark creature, from the distance it was difficult to determine the bright and dark spots, but upon getting closer it seemed the dark were the actual skin and scales, while the gold were parts of armour.

With a mighty SWOOOOOSH the wings nearly clapped to brake the nearly freefall from the skies, the Arkanian Dragon performing a rather perfect landing on the fields outside of the city. He was massive, black scales with a red taint, eyes which were seemingly made of fire, he was more massive than many tanks and shuttles and on his back carried a figure dressed in similar golden armour and red robes who smoothly jumped off the back.

Valkoryen's long black hair was flowing in the winds of the beautiful world, a circlet rather, a laurel wreath holding them together as He patted the scales of Vaexann who seemed strangely at ease, observing the unknown in front. But so was his rider. It was meant to be an easy meeting, an encounter of minds and benefits, not cold steel.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

M I D V I N T E R
H E A V E N H E I M

Valkoryen Sunfell ​

"DRAGON," the tower guard shouted at the top of his lungs, having peered through a monocular to make sure before sounding the alarm. He could scarcely believe it, for dragonkind was believed to be extinct for a thousand ages. He only knew what one looked like because of murals and vivid descriptions passed down through ancient fireside tales. He rang the bell, alerting the entire city of the incoming threat. More tower bells rang out as news spread, causing the citizenry to seek shelter and the Staðgardr to take up arms and man the outermost walls.

The gilded stranger would be met with loaded crossbows and wary looks, as well as tower ballistae taking aim at the black dragon sitting out in the open. Yet no command to fire came, but rather instructions to open the gates. The reinforced steel gates creaked and groaned as they parted, revealing to the stranger none other than the High King himself, likewise armour-clad in black steel with decorations of gold, with each pauldron shaped as the head of a lion. Behind him flowed a cloak of the deepest blue, and upon his shoulders was draped the pelt of a wolf.

No crown adorned his head, for by his side stood an elderly man holding a winged helmet. A sword remained in its scabbard strapped to his person, with a pair of gloved hands resting idly upon its pommel. He placed himself between the stranger and his city, the first and last line of defence. Upon the rooftop of a nearby building perched a mighty gryphon, warily observing the drake in the distance.

"Men, stand down," he ordered, his voice powerful enough to carry far and wide, further aided by the deafening silence.

He took a few steps towards the golden stranger, towering and radiant as he was. A more primitive civilization could be forgiven for thinking such a being godlike, worthy of worship. Fortunately, his world already had their gods.

"Impressive beast you've got there," he finally addressed the stranger. "You'll forgive these men for taking such immediate precautions; a dragon was not on today's list of expectations. I figure if you came here seeking fire and blood, you would not have approached the gates on foot."

He attempted to pierce the impressive-looking visitor's soul with his azure gaze, only to be denied by powerful mental barriers — the hallmark trait of the Epicanthix. He could not so easily discern this man's heart or intentions, and so he felt he could not let down his guard just yet.

"Who might you be, to stride so brazenly upon Midvinter soil?"

 

[Valkoryen Sunfell]

M I D V I N T E R
Thurion Heavenshield​

Valkoryen offered a deep bow of His head upon standing in front of the High King, respectful and calm in nature but also a well calculated gesture. The golden eyes offered as little insight into the soul as a glimpse into the mind would, they were unyielding but neither hostile nor ambitious, a calm light undisturbed. He would not make any attempts to read the King or his men, impressive and interesting as they were, He respected them and their minds.

"High King Heavenshield." The voice echoed forth, carrying far more age and wisdom than what His appearance would suggest. "I am Valkoryen of House Sunfell, Prince-Claimant to the ancient Throne of Zakuul." The Epicanthix even seemed unarmed at first glance, but a spear was attached to the saddle of the dragon. "I come to seek an audience, tales of your strength, wisdom and rule precede you, your grace." The gold-clad figure sounded genuine, the eyes focused on the elegantly but ultimately practically clad Lion King, taking his presence and aura in with indeed a certain amount of awe and even a glimpse of excitement. "And I come to not only witness them first hand but to bring an offer of hopefully mutual benefit, forging a future in peace and order."

An elder warrior of the Light, a paladin and protector was precisely who He considered to be an ally or even friend needed in the times to come. There was no mistake in the vision and what started as a political outreach, was now more necessary than ever before. The men and women of Midvinter were hardy, strong people and their leader was well renowned.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

M I D V I N T E R
H E A V E N H E I M

Valkoryen Sunfell ​

"High King Heavenshield. I am Valkoryen of House Sunfell, Prince-Claimant to the ancient Throne of Zakuul. I come to seek an audience, tales of your strength, wisdom and rule precede you, your grace. And I come to not only witness them first hand but to bring an offer of hopefully mutual benefit, forging a future in peace and order."

When the golden giant finally spoke, Thurion was struck by the reverberating quality of his voice, like the echo of a mountain valley made manifest. Though his words and mannerisms were without flaw, the Lion remained wary in his company. His blue eyes shifted to the black-scaled dragon in the distance. To descend upon a planet riding on the back of a such a fearsome beast, mythical in every sense, was a display of supreme confidence verging on arrogance, and though his fair countenance gave the impression of noble intentions, one wondered what lay beneath the surface. For now, Thurion returned the bow with a nod of his head.

"Then, I bid thee welcome, Valkoryen of House Sunfell," he said, stepping forward to clasp arms with the man. "Zakuul... You've come a very long way indeed just to see me, Lord Sunfell. I certainly hope it won't be proven a waste of time by the end of your visit here." Then he turned to the elderly man whose face remained etched in stone, eyeing the stranger with unimpressed scepticism.

"This man is Jarl Bors Greythorne, Hersir of House Heavenshield and Seneschal of Heavenheim." The old man appeared ancient, with deep wrinkles and tired eyes, a balding head and a well-groomed beard of silver, yet his bearing was as impeccable as ever. He only greeted the stranger with the slightest nod, stoic to a fault.

Again, Thurion turned his gaze towards the dragon. "Your animal companion will need to stay put, I'm afraid. Can't have an unchecked dragon flying around terrifying the locals and feed on our livestock." With these conditions accepted, the King invited the visitor from Zakuul through the gates. Upon entering the city, he turned to Bors for a quick word.

"Uncle, see to it that the beast is fed." The old man raised an eyebrow, each change in expression rearranging the plethora of wrinkles. "Oh aye, I'll just walk right up it holding a slab of meat. What could possibly go wrong..." Thurion placed his hand upon his shoulder, then plucked the winged helmet from his grasp. "I'm sure we can spare an old boar who's served his purpose. Just send it through the gate and let nature do the rest." Uncle Bors stopped dead in his tracks, unappreciative of the obvious jab; the boar being the sigil of House Greythorne. Grumbling, he nevertheless made for the local swine pen.

In the meantime, Thurion and Valkoryen wandered the cobblestone streets of Heavenheim, passing countless citizens only now re-emerging from their homes to tentatively resume today's labours. Many an uncertain gaze was leveled Valkoryen's way, for he was giant even for the towering Valkyri and bedecked in shining gold from neck to toe. Still, they paid their respects to their High King all the same as they passed by.

"While I am greatly flattered by your visit," he picked up their conversation where they'd left off, "I am unsure as to how I might be of assistance. Who, if I might ask, are you to your countrymen? Is this a private audience between two men, or official business between two houses?"

 

[Valkoryen Sunfell]

M I D V I N T E R
Thurion Heavenshield​

With a respectful nod He would raise His large hand.

"While I greatly appreciate the gesture and sincerely apologize for the commotion my choice of mount has caused - I will order him to return to my ship. Putting at ease any fear of lost livestock or worse."

With that the Dragonrider turned around and briefly looked towards the dragon. No word was uttered, no gesture made and for any bystander who was not attuned to the Force and paid attention, it was a mere exchange of looks. But for any who had a strong connection to the Force, there seemed to be a brief exchange between the two after which the dragon turned, spread its wings and lifted up into the clouds.

His gaze wandered across the streets, buildings and hesitant inhabitants of Heavenheim, curiosity and calmness written on His face as He walked next to the High King. Equally impressed and approving He found the reaction of the people to their liege. It seemed genuine, respectful and even admiring. The sovereign of this place was not only a respected figure far from Midvinter, but also an admired leader at home. It was intriguing.

"I do not see reason why it could not be both." Valkoryen offered with a gentle smile and glance towards Thurion. "I am currently serving the regent, Hegemon Sigismund, as High Justice but I am laying claim to the throne, not the Eternal Throne, of Zakuul. My family line dates back many millennia to Kings before the Eternal Throne was made."

"Stories and tales can reach much further than the truth and I have heard and sought after plenty of the Lion King. Your contributions to the Galaxy are curiously paled by the humble origins and rule you hold. Midvinter is beautiful from what I can tell, Heavenheim a proud place, I can feel how its people are strong. Few wielding such tools have not sought to expand their power for the sake of power. It is impressive and intriguing."

Valkoryen spoke with admiration and a direct honesty which in some places might be considered inappropriate under the banner of diplomacy, but He seemed quite comfortable and aiming to speak His mind over serving etiquette. His voice mirrored His determination and calmness, the tone smooth and the volume perfectly adjusted to make it easy and comfortable to listen to it.

"Your city is quite stunning, High King. If time and of course, a positive outcome of our talks would allow it, I would be honored to see more of it and your domain."

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

M I D V I N T E R
H E A V E N H E I M

Valkoryen Sunfell ​

There was a sigh of relief as sentries witnessed the winged serpent take to the skies, heading for the ship in atmosphere where it could do no harm. None was more pleased than Bors, save perhaps the witless pig he'd intended to sacrifice. The Seneschal turned to the regiment of Staðgardr and ordered them to return to their duties.

The Lion and the Dragon climbed the steps leading to the royal palace known as the Lion's Den, for it was where the High King conducted official business and received petitions from throughout the realm. A pair of lion statues stood vigil at the top of the stairs, and banners depicting the golden lion upon a blue field flew high and proud atop the palace spires.

Thurion stopped atop the stairs and turned to the Lord of Zakuul with knitted brows. Every word was carefully chosen to elicit flattery and foster good relations, and another man could've easily been swayed by such honeyed words. But the Lion had borne witness to many an ambitious men in his lifetime, and he recognised one in Valkoryen. Nevertheless, he stood shoulder to shoulder beside him to look over the city of Heavenheim, and Midvinter beyond.

Stunning, indeed.

"I never wanted the throne," he confessed, squinting up at the sun. "It passed from my father to my elder brother, and his descendants were meant to inherit it. But his reign was ended prematurely, and his eldest had pledged himself to the Aelvar Queen as her consort, with the rest being deemed too young. He begged me with his dying breath, and I relented."

A deep breath as he turned to the golden god.

"I am their servant, High Justice, and I serve them not out of ambition or because it is my birthright, but because it is my duty. Because I swore an oath to my king and kin that I would. The crown is a burden is am loath to bear, and a responsibility I would not wish upon my worst enemy. I advice caution, Valkoryen, that your ambition for the throne does not smother your compassion or empathy, nor smother the simple joys of life."

The large doors opened behind them, granting them entry to the Lion's Den. Inside was an antechamber where dignitaries might hang up their cloaks and weapons before meeting with the king. Another set of doors beckoned them to enter the Great Hall; a hall for feasting, ceremony, and throne room all at once. Great, long tables surrounded a vast fire pit in the centre, and upon a dais stood the pair of thrones draped in lion skins. Stained glass windows bathed the hall in every colour imaginable, and from its high ceiling hung countless banners, each representing one of Midvinter's many houses and clans. Heraldric shields lined the walls, again belonging to each house. It was a symbol for unity, as each clan offered their shield and banner upon swearing oaths of fealty.

The King seated himself not on his throne, but parked himself on one of the benches at one of the tables, having unbuckled his belt and placed his sheathed sword on said table.

"You say you vie for the throne of Zakuul. How do you plan to fulfil this ambition of yours, if you don't mind me asking?"

 

[Valkoryen Sunfell]

M I D V I N T E R
Thurion Heavenshield​

With a visible impression of appreciation and liking towards both the architecture and the straight words, Valkoryen continued to follow Thurion. The two men seemed like polar opposites, red and blue, golden and black, blonde and ebon. But from the Epicanthix perspective, they could not have been less different. He came here for a reason, a reason He had not yet revealed. Two reasons actually. And it would prove curious to see what the Lord of Midvinter would respond.

He listened with intent and interest to the brief history and elaboration on his view on Kingship. It was more simple to make a crown relative when it is given to you, intended or not but a right of family nevertheless. The view was bearing wisdom, values and idealism, it was worth hearing, worth taking as guidance. It was not dissimilar towards His own view, except for the part of going beyond duty to a single people.

"Neither a birthright nor any might justify an ascension, nor does the mere title hold value beyond flourished language.

With and for the people I shall step up to take the burden of rule. My ambition is not to sit on the throne, complacent and satisfied but to utilise what it offers.

If it were only down to strength at arms or the power of the Force, it would not be worth taking, High King. Ambition is what makes you a dutiful ruler, ambition is what makes your people live in peace. For the triumph of darkness, decadence and dogma it is enough for few individuals to do nothing. I value life beyond anything else, one friend, a stranger, an enemy, they are all lives to me."

Valkoryen iterated with a certain passion and determination. It did not only seem like it was a clear vision, but also set in stone, as if it were a future fixed which only needed to come to be. His conviction was undeniable nor was His passion. While speaking with a clear voice and well articulated words, it was the fire in them, subtle but hot, which could spark not only support but devotion.

"And yet neither would idleness fare well with the responsibilities and possibilities held. I see complacency and dogma as they elementary roots of the ever-encroaching darkness."

The question of 'how' was a path as nebulous as the rising morning dew over an Alderaanian valley. It was His goal to utilise the ancient throne, to lay claim as a Dragonrider and reforge the old orders before the Eternal Empire was forged, to be witnessed and blessed by the Old Gods and stride forward.

"With patience and support. I am committed to find both in honourable friends and allies. As High Justice I am responsible for interior governance and judiciary matters and have worked with effort to steer our public into a time of prosperity and order where justice is cast after judgement is made. Where people can see beyond the mere shroud of power in their leaders and where a sense of duty and honour prevails over greed and power."

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

M I D V I N T E R
H E A V E N H E I M

Valkoryen Sunfell
​

The Lion sat and listened patiently to the Dragon's carefully selected words, and considered long what to say. His gaze fell upon the sword at his side, idly tracing its pommel with his fingertips. They traveled down its leather-bound grip and past its decorated crossguard, then pushed his thumb up to reveal but a sliver of the magnificent elven-forged steel and the sunlight that dwelt within. Anarion illuminated his face with its warmth, staring up at him from its resting place. It was an idle gesture, not intended as a threat.

"We each serve in our own way," he finally spoke. "In my younger days, I led the Silver Jedi across the stars in a crusade against the forces of darkness. We liberated countless systems and drove the enemy from their ancestral seats on Dromund Kaas and Korriban, establishing a strong Jedi presence on both worlds in the attempt to rid this galaxy of their lingering shadows once and for all. A misguided endeavour, as history has shown in the decades since."

More of the splendid blade was unsheathed, inch by inch, until the elvish writing became projected across his face.

"My galactic ambitions perished long ago, Dragonrider. I could not conquer the darkness, but I can protect my people from it. And, if my premonitions are to be believed, I may yet be of service to the greater galaxy by safeguarding Midvinter." In a decisive motion, Thurion drew Anarion and set aside the scabbard, holding its sunlight-imbued blade perpedicular to himself before dropping the tip to the stone floor with an ominous clang. He now peered into the divine gaze of Valkoryen.

"Fire and blood comes for us, High Justice. Something terrible is stirring from beyond our mortal realm — in a place that cannot be seen or touched. In my visions, I see a Great Eye, lidless and wreathed in flame, and I know It sees me. Its gaze is fixed on Midvinter, and Its forces are mustered. What follows is an unstoppable wave of blood swallowing up planet by planet. Midvinter is only the beginning; whatever It is, It must be contained here, or risk drowning the Tingel Arm and beyond in endless carnage."

His eyes closed and his brows furrowed as he shook his head, sheathing his sword as he stood.

"So do not think me idle or complacent, Lord of Zakuul. This world, and its people, is all that stands between the galaxy and the bottomless abyss, and so I remain at my post at the edge of known space, awaiting the inevitable doom with blade in hand."

The Lion strode up to the Golden God, offering his hand.

"You ask for allies in your bid for the throne. My price is your unwavering support in the wars to come, for the Blood Tide will find Zakuul's shores soon or late. Swear this, and I will lend legitimacy to your cause, and my sword if it comes to it."

 

[Valkoryen Sunfell]

M I D V I N T E R
H E A V E N H E I M

Thurion Heavenshield​

The revelation surprised Valkoryen. He had assumed that it was His agenda was the threat they had to prepare for, that He forsaw the doom looming over not only a world but the mortal realm itself. He had tracked cultists across many places, spent days in silent interrogation and even more time in undoing their dreadful work wherever He found it.

Now the High King spoke of a terror from beyond much like His own. Could they possibly have foreseen the same? Did Heavenshield see what Chaos was ready to spread into the plane of mortals and innocents? It was as relieving and intriguing as it was terrifying. Valkoryen knew that threat was dire, but if more heard it and more chose the same path of isolated resistance, then His task had grown from a great to a monumental challenge.

The thoughts and feelings of revelation, surprise and even briefly terror rushed across the Epicanthix's face as He listened and went through the string of thoughts and already plans. His golden gaze attentive on the High King as He rose to meet him, the hand extending to grasp the wrist of the monarch of Midvinter. A firm grip, a warriors handshake.

"You will have every spear, sword and rifle I can muster, now until the day I pass."

He had eyed the blade, Anarion, with deep intrigue as it was unsheathed and laid out before them. It was a fine weapon and while He aspired to end war, He could not deny that it would be inspiring to see the blade in action.

"The doom of which you speak - when did you see it for the first time?"
​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

M I D V I N T E R
H E A V E N H E I M

Valkoryen Sunfell
​

As they clasped arms in the manner of warriors, and now comrades, Thurion felt how his eyes widened, his jaw slackened, and his shoulders slump. His guard was dropped the moment they made that pledge, and even gave rise to emotions he didn't know he'd suppressed — something far deeper than mere gratitude for the swift promise of aid in the coming struggle. Relief at the reassurance he would no longer stand alone, and that he was not insane. Hope, that priceless gift he'd provide everyone in his vicinity every day yet still eluded him, burned in his chest once more.

The Lion held onto the Dragon's arm longer than what could be considered customary. Their oath had been made, the words spoken, but he could not bring himself to let go just yet. The genuine emotion would be evident in every line of his face, to the point where he raised his remaining hand to clutch the pristine pauldron of his counterpart. "Thank you," he said, having never meant it more than he did this day. "Thank you, truly."

When finally he surrendered Valkoryen's arm, whatever suspicions the High King reserved for the golden stranger had dissipated. Now they were allies. Comrades. Brothers.

"Years ago, more than I care to recall. Midvinter was invaded by an unnatural host, led by a being of supreme power. Gríma Hagraven, Witch-Queen of the Underworld. The Valkyri god of death, if one believes such tales. We drove back her vanguard, but I was wounded in the process. She took my eye," he touched the left side of his face, tracing invisible scars with his fingertips. "The wounds festered, poisoning my mind with terrible visions and draining my lifeforce. Then..."

He turned to the stained glass window sitting above his throne, depicting the climactic battle for the fate of Midvinter. It painted a rather heroic and grand picture of that terrible day, one he would do anything to forget.

"The Crone returned with her main force comprised of demons and mutated men, ripping open the fabric of space to allow her hellish minions to enter our realm. They laid waste to the old capital and held my brother captive in his own dungeon. I summoned warriors from every corner of Midvinter and marched the greatest fighting force this world has ever seen on the ruined gates of Tháinbroek to the rescue of our king. I slew the Crone in single combat, and in doing so restored myself. But, my brother..."

It wasn't enough. It was never enough.

"We called it the Great War. The last war to unite the races and begin a new age. Now, I believe it was only the beginning. A taste of something far worse to come. The Hag's taunts may have ceased, but the visions she showed me never truly left. Fire and blood, Valkoryen. That is what these nightmares promise me. Fire and... so much blood."