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She turned her head toward the battle, the standard of Gudvaer Njal remained and moving forward, although his men depleted. "Two serpents, my Lord", she spoke in a soft voice. She took in a deep breath and turned to her King. "There is something I need to tell you, and there is no way to say it gently, but my father, my blood father, is Beorlund. But he is nothing more to me then that. The man that raised as his own is my true father, your fathers loyal general Radford Strongarm. I will not go into details, but know my loyalty is and always will be yours. My father was murdered by Gudvaer Njal", she pointed toward the standard, "On the orders of Beorlund and so I must now go and right a wrong".
She stood and moved to BlackWing, "Take him, and ride to your son's side and to the Throne". She whispered soft words to BlackWing, "On your back rides a King, but know that it is you that is King of Horses, hold your head high and ride into legend". BlackWing moved and tossed his proud head before nuzzling her face.
Aerin held the reins while Thrand mounted. Once sitting high the saddle, "He will take you, just give him his head and hang on", she smiled. Aerin stepped aside and focused on the battlefield once more. She gripped tight her shield and with the other hand unsheathed her blue crystal encrusted long sword. The blade gleamed in the dull light, the weight of it felt good in her hand, she will fight this day with the sword of honour.
[SIZE=48pt]T[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]he latch of the wooden door of the Stag’s head closed behind her. Triny moved out into the streets of Tháinbroek and made her way toward the main gates. Red Bread had received the signal to move and even though she had never experienced war first hand, today she would, and today this woman would not remain behind waiting for the return of men. Katrin is no warrior, but she is a fighter regardless of her lack of strength by comparison to most Valkyri. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=48pt]M[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]ost of the men were already in position, some moved around as traders or supporters of the Usurper, some even enlisted in his inner defences and wore the mantle of the Snake. The Snake held up in the keep, surrounded by his lackeys remained safe within the walls, for now. But as the sounds of battle reached the streets of Tháinbroek, she knew his time was coming to an end. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=48pt]H[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]er snow white owl, perched upon her arm, head turning with wide eyes, seeks the skies and Triny would soon release the bird to fly up into the heavens and the battlefield. Attached to his small scaled leg is note.[/SIZE]
Dawn breaks across the sullen skies
Justice will be Victorious
[SIZE=48pt]L[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt]oinnin will fly to [member="Thrand Dawnbringer"] to deliver her message of the runes. Her arm raises, white wings expand and take flight. Katrin moves fast along the streets, a cowl pulled over her head, gripped in her delicate hand, her dagger which will taste blood this day. The streets are empty are the market place, and most remain indoors to shelter from the threats of war. Most of the citizens of Tháinbroek hope for the tyranny to end the coming of Dawn. [/SIZE]
On Coci's mark the two summoned the Force to physically pull the gate open. It was exhausting yet fruitful work as the gate slowly but surely swung open and their warriors began to pour through. Thurion glanced over at his love, breathing heavily as he leaned against the gate. She looked just as exhausted, and the two could do little else other than exchange weary smiles. Once he'd been given a moment to catch his breath, Thurion wiped his forehead of its beads of sweat while making his way over to her just to plant his lips upon hers. It was a heat-of-the-moment kiss with blood and adrenaline pumping fiercely in their veins, and he needed to feel her flesh against his just once before he could resume the fight. "Are you alright?" he asked her just to make sure, grabbing her by the hand. "Then let's go."
The streets of Tháinbroek were now in an uproar as warriors still loyal to the Usurper did their best to fend off the intruders, but to little avail. Most of their numbers were still trapped out on the battlefield, cut off from any reinforcements or a place to retreat to and kept occupied by the remainder of the Dawnbringer army. Any civilians stayed indoors, either praying or hiding. "To the keep", Thurion commanded while leading the charge up the many stairs carved into the hillside. Atop it sat the grand hall of Tháinbroek, the seat of power for all of Midvinter and its people. Only a few guards stood between them and the massive front door, at least five men in height and thicker than most trees. Rather than oppose the invading forces they merely stepped aside when Thurion and Coci demanded the twin doors to be opened, relinquishing their weapons.
The doors swung open, and upon stepping inside Thurion couldn't help but marvel at the hugeness of it all. The ceiling seemed impossibly tall, as if touching the clouds, and every massive wooden pillar wore carvings of the finest carpentry, all telling tales of Gods and old Valkyri legends. What surprised him even more than the vastness of it all was the fact that it was empty, or at least seemed to be. Lightsaber at the ready for any ambush lying in wait, Thurion kept a wary eye on everything as they moved further into the hall, passing the many tables lined up for use when holding feasts. At the far end sat the mighty throne of Midvinter, and upon it sat no-one. "Check every corner", he told the small group of Valkyri who joined him, with the rest rejoining the ongoing battle. "Keep on the alert for ambushes. No more casualties."
Once stood before the throne, he settled a hand upon its cushioned seat after deactivating his lightsaber. "Doesn't look that inviting, does it?" he asked Coci at his side before wiping his face of the blood and grime covering much of it. "I mean, you can't imagine me... Can you?" He raised a hand to scratch the back of his head as he often would when feeling awkward or uncomfortable. He then turned to Coci and put his arms around her delicate form, and the two simply embraced each other. "It's over", he said through a deep sigh of relief. His bearded cheek nuzzled against her much smoother counterpart, and all was well with the world again, he felt.
Their moment of peace was interrupted, however, by some sort of commotion coming from somewhere nearby. Hand on his lightsaber once more, he readied himself for the worst as he approached the sound. It sounded like a faint voice, talking to itself. Behind the throne there hung a big curtain of the finest fabrics bearing the seal and colours of the current sovereign. Upon pulling the curtain aside, Thurion was met by a most pitiful sight. "Gah! Who are you to disturb me? I am the King, don't you know?!" Behind the curtain stood an old man, his hair grey and unkempt, hunched over as if in hiding. His speech resembled that of insane gibberish more than actual words. Atop his head sat the crown belonging to the High King of Midvinter. He wore clothes that looked like they had seen better days, now tattered and washed-out. "This is the Usurper King my father told us about?"
Although their blood lust is still up, Thurion and Coci took a moment to connect once more, in the form of a kiss. It filled her with renewed energy, it always did, to be able move onward and with purpose and today’s purpose is love, in all its glory. Fathers love for peoples of his land, his love of his son, son for father, and Woman for a man of unquestionable intregrity, her Thurion.
The battle is not done, more man and women fight for their respective lords but Coci and Thurion advance to the Great Hall and ascent the stairs. Such grandeur is the Hall of Midvinter, her eyes marvelled at the structure as they moved toward the throne. It is eerie silent however, they had expected resistance but none came. She too, remained on edge, although her body began to cool.
"Doesn't look that inviting, does it?I mean, you can't imagine me... Can you?", these were questions only he could truly answer. The truth of it was, she could see there, and Midvinter would not know a better King.
“I can’t answer those questions, only you can. But life is uncertain, it changes, and as we change with it, we may choose to walk a different path”, they embraced.
“Regardless of what may be for us, whether you take the throne one day or not, I will be by your side”.
Coci moved up beside Thurion as he pulled back the curtain behind the throne. Surprise crossed her face as they looked upon an aged creature about as fearsome as new born. She quickly turned around, her eyes searching the area for others, but no one is around save the men of Thrand. “There must be another, Thurion, someone else is ruling here”, the man they look upon is not a leader of men, at least no more.
Thrand rode across the field of battle, cutting down a few foes on the way as he made his way to the gate. His arrival bolstered the resolve of his soldiers who all cheered at the sight of him atop the thunderous Blackwing. While the battle was all-but won at this point, there were still those who put up a fight, both out in the field as well as within the capital. A glimpse of Loinnin had him extend his arm to let the white owl land on it. He carried a message from Katrin, and reading it did his heart good, knowing she was alright. Once he entered Tháinbroek he was swept up in a gentle breeze, warm and soothing to the senses. After over 50 years in galactic counting he was home, and now the spirit of his forefathers welcomed the return of the King. It made him pause for a moment to look around him as Blackwing walked him up through the neverending cobbled main street of Tháinbroek that would lead him to the great hall.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nRY1N5yhL-U
Littering the streets were the bodies of both sides, of men and women who all fought bravely. It was disheartening to say the least, but none more so than the sight of a lone figure seemingly kneeling in a pool of blood in the middle of the street, still carrying the tattered banner of the royal insignia. "Oh, Mannfreyd..." Thrand sighed in mourning as he stopped by the lifeless yet proud Valkyri warrior, riddled with arrows across his chest. Painstakingly he got down from Blackwing and held his reins in one hand while placing the other on Mannfreyd's cold cheek. "You were as loyal as they come, my friend. Rest now, and pass into legend." He then took the standard from his dead hands into his own possession and closed the man's eyes before laying him down on the side of the street. He would receive a proper burial once this was all over.
He would walk the rest of the way, bad leg aside. He had to witness the sorrows of war by walking among the men and women who gave their lives for him. He would bear the guilt of their deaths on his conscience until the end of his days. It was his way of honouring their sacrifice, his punishment. Supporting his weight on Blackwing, they began ascending the stairway to the grand hall sitting atop the hill overlooking the entirety of Tháinbroek. Every step was painful, but every step brought him closer to where he was born, a mere babe whose screams once echoed throughout the massive halls. Once he reached the top and stood before the huge wooden doors he was forced to catch his breath before proceeding.
"Stay here, Blackwing. I must do this myself." Letting go of the trusty stallion he stepped inside. Immediately he noticed Thurion and Coci at the far end of the hall, by the throne. He did his best to hide his trobled walk in front of the Valkyri who had helped secure the building, now kneeling before their King. Passing nods of appreciation were sent their way as Thrand passed them and approached Thurion, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Stand down, boy. This one cannot harm anyone, anymore." Thurion was surprised to see his father so soon after having left his side, but was also relieved to be able to let go of command. "Father? Is this...?" Thrand merely nodded, taking a few steps towards the old man wearing the crown. "Aye, this is the man." The man identified as Beorlund now gazed up at Thrand, fear in his eyes. "I... know you...!" After seeing the face of the man who stole what was his by birthright and exiled him from his home so many decades ago, Thrand could feel little else but pity. "Beorlund the Bold... what happened here to make the crown weigh so heavily upon your head?"
"Take him into custody. We'll determine what to do with him after we clean up this mess", he ordered his men. "Do not hurt him. He's done enough harm to himself, as is." After the men escorted the poor old fool-of-a-man out of the hall, all who remained were Thurion and Coci in his presence. At this point he dropped all pretense and simply took a seat on the floor, leaning against the wall. He gestured for the two to join him, and Thurion gladly sat down beside his father before inviting Coci to sit in his lap, putting his arms around her while resting his head upon Thrand's shoulder. All three were exhausted and covered in muck and grime. "You did good, my children. You did good..."
Lords [member="Thrand Dawnbringer"] and [member="Thurion Heavenshield"]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WfJv_3ooDw
Long finger unfurled and re-gripped the hilt of the long sword. Aerin walks at steady pace toward the foul, mocking standard of Njal. For far too long, this man had plagued her life from the day he ran his sword through her father’s chest. The killing of her father was not in war or the clash of clans, but orchestrated between the Usurper and himself, Beorlund wanted all loyal to Threign Hammerfall to be punished for their loyalty and so he set his most brutal thug to do his dirty work. Gudvaer Njal.
Her leathered boot sent up a spray of brackish water as it landed in the pool of melted ice and corrupted blood. Her face held no emotion nor her body or soul, the battle had ripped that from her, and she is empty. Only meters away, he fights with sword dripping with blood of the men of Thrand, he looms over one now, fallen to his feet and at Njal’s mercy of which there is none. The murderous sword raises and begins to fall, but does not find its mark.
The shrilling sound of the clashing metal, echoed around the field once more, this time in isolation, bloody blade stopped by the force infused blade of a Knight, this blade given to her as gift and encrusted with focusing crystal placed in the pommel to the hilt. Aerin is strengthen by this, her long sword becomes one with her.
Njal’s face turns from snarling delight at a chance to kill once more, to rage as he is stopped from his pleasure. He turns to see who dare strike his sword. “Firebrand”, he spits the name.
“You will spill no more blood, save your own”. A low voice issued from the deaden Shieldmaiden.
“And you think you will stop me? You whelp of Strongarm, I will say you have allude me very well, with your skulking in back waters of Midvinter, like some wretched animal. As did that coward Dawnbringer”.
“And yet he has entered the Tháinbroek and the Grand Hall, no longer the Serpent will reign”, she could sense Thrand well enough, exhausted and alive, the Jedi too, they are with him and their force presence stronger than before, as if both Masters had elevated beyond measure in their combined strength.
A loud laugh of distain came from Njal, as he moved away and began to prowl around the area, his eyes never leaving his quarry, sword swinging by his side with blood running down the fuller. “You think that old man has ruled, has gathered the Clans to him? No Firebrand, he is feeble of mind and body, it is I that has been pulling the puppets strings”.
“No longer”, is all Aerin would say. And she took stance, raising her sword to shoulder height, elbow bent. It was Njal that lunged first and the two blades clashed. Aerin summon the force to her limbs once more, strengthening them against a powerful opponent, she had to, her Valkyri strength alone not enough.
For now Aerin is defensive, using every ounce of her saber training and patience to wait for the opening and to deplete the energy of her foe. His fights with rage and murder, all filling his mind and with each strike lethal if unchecked.
Aerin fends off a blow with her shield, it shatters and Njal’s blade bites through to her arm, her armour prevents a debilitating wound by not entirely as his foul blade bites the flesh of her forearm. She grits her teeth in pain not wanting to show him she is hurt. She stumbles backward, only to regain position and grips her sword with both hands. Sideward steps move her around the area, he follows with fixed eyes delighting in the fact he has struck a mark. Njal lunges once more, to finish the job, but Aerin moves to avoid and swings her long sword to his side.
They fight with singing blades, until she senses he is fatiguing, his physical stance falters with a small stumble but still he is unrelenting. The blade collide, with such force the nerve chilling sound of metal grinding fills the ears of those around them, until the hilts meet. Aerin, imbued with the force pushes him back enough for her to plunge her sword into his chest. A primordial scream issues from her mouth, and with her strength coupled with the force, her blade enters his body smashing ribs, she lowers to the ground only to push her sword upward and into his heart and out his back.
Gudvaer Njal’s eyes remained fixed on her face, but he does not move. She stands to look into his eyes to watch the life leave his body. And as it does, he falls backward into a puddle of melted ice and blood.
The remaining contingence of Njal’s men flee and drop his standard to the ground. As Aerin slowly allows the force to leave her limbs, she slumps to the ground on her knees, in total exhaustion. Her eyes looking over the body of the man that murdered her father, now still.
There is simply no requirement for words now. Coci moved to both Thurion and Thrand resting on the floor of the Grand Hall, nothing mattered for the moment except that they are all safe. She came to Thurion at his beckoning and rested on his lap. Her arms taking hold of him and gripping to never let go, her breathing swallow as the blood cooled and reality set in. She had never witnessed such death before, the force around her filling with the souls of those that have joined it. Some of the Valkyri unaware that they were attuned to the force, now complete with it in death.
It seemed to never end, as men and women that remain dying on the field close their eyes for the last time.
Tears filled her eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation as she buried her face into Thurion's neck and sobbed. She held little doubt he would feel it too. As emotions reached out, she looked over to Thrand sitting weary against the wall, her hand reached out and cupped his face, before leaning over to place a soft kiss on her fathers cheek. "Father", she whispered softly.
Thrand couldn't help but blush ever so slightly at the soft kiss Coci placed upon his cheek. After she'd done it, he awkwardly rubbed his cheek with the palm of his hand, avoiding eye-contact for a brief moment. "Oh, my... The last time I was kissed by a woman as young and beautiful as you, I was still young and handsome." For some reason, this poor excuse of a joke made Thurion laugh, his head still resting upon his father's shoulder. "That must've been a long time ago, then..." he smiled, closing his eyes as if going to sleep. To this, Thrand merely chuckled in return. He kept a firm embrace of Coci nestled into his lap, their auras entwining and granting each other strength and comfort. For what he wished to last an eternity, the three simply remained sat on the floor of the great hall of Tháinbroek, unwilling to break this moment of peace.
Hours later...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fl09eR4qeno
The battle was won. The rebellion was a success. Thrand's life's work was completed and his destiny fulfilled, but not without terrible cost of life. Both sides had suffered in equal measure, making it hard for the hundred-year-old to discern whether or not it was right of him to put his people through this pain. But what's done's done, and time will heal all wounds, or so they say. A massive pyre had been built in the centre of the city, and all who yet could stand on their own were present. All whom had perished on the battlefield and within the city walls had been laid to rest upon it, be they friend or foe. The yet-to-be-crowned Dawnbringer stood holding a lit torch, and the midday sun hung proudly atop the sky. At his side was Thurion and Coci, holding hands.
"These men and women all fought and died for their king and for what they believed in. They were as brave and as fierce as the Gods themselves, and for this their spirits shall find their way to Beornskald where they will live on forever, both in our hearts as well as the songs we will sing to our children. No longer will there be bloodshed between Valkyri brothers and sisters. We are one people, one family, and you are all my children." He looked over at Thurion, eyes swelling up with tears. "No parent should have to bury their own child", he continued. "Mothers and fathers, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters - I won't tell you not to mourn your loss, for every person here deserve to be mourned and remembered. And so, we commit their bodies to the flame so that their souls may find rest as they make their final journey to the halls of our ancestors. Be at peace, sons of winter and daughters of frost."
As Thrand lit the pyre aflame, others joined in with torches of their own. However, a second pyre had been built, large enough to hold only one person. Upon it lay the body of Mannfreyd, proud and at peace. Joining him in death was his sword and his shield, as well as offerings in the form of flowers placed there by his fellow warriors. This smaller pyre was for Thurion and Coci to light as Thrand now handed them each a lit torch. "Say your farewells, and then put his spirit to rest. Know that forever onwards, Mannfreyd the Mighty will look after you in death just as he did in life." Reluctantly Thurion held the torch in one hand, his other still clinging to Coci at his side. The two stepped forward, each step making it harder to hold back their tears as they looked upon Mannfreyd's serene face.
Thurion was the first to speak. "The first thing I encountered upon arriving here on Midvinter yesterday was this proud warrior welcoming me to his home with open arms. He was the gentlest of giants, the most loyal of followers, and a friend. He will be dearly missed." He would wait until Coci had said her goodbyes before the two would light the pyre and return Mannfrey'd body to the earth.
Lords [member="Thrand Dawnbringer"] and [member="Thurion Heavenshield"]
She did not know how long she had been kneeling in the blooded mud, but sudden she felt a warm breath on her face, which only served to realise how cold she had grown. However, the firm nudge of a wet nose made her smile and she raised her hand to hold the side of BlackWings long muzzle. Her hand found the thick of his mane and she grabbed hold to aid herself to her feet. Her body felt like lead, her legs aching and could bearly support her weight, however BlackWing had come to find her and bring her to Tháinbroek.
She had never want so much to remove her armour but she would never burden BlackWing again, he will go free after the events to come. After all they had a new King to crown. She looked to the Capital, smoke issing from pockets within the walls that would soon be extinguished, but more would come, there are too many dead and they needed to be placed to rest.
"Walk with BlackWing, you will carry me on more", she would walked with pride beside the horse that once again did not falter and knew no meaning of cowardice. She walked between the dead, between those that now came to the field to transport the bodies to the Capital in preparation for pyre. Eventually the two warriors enter the gates, this time free to do so. She let BlackWing lead the way until they came to the bottom steps of the Grand Hall, but she would not entre not yet, instead she found one of the royal stable hands and ordered them to tender to BlackWing with the greatest of care. As BlackWing was lead away, Aerin turned and sat on the bottom step and looked out over Tháinbroek.
Her leg dull with pain, the bleeding had stopped but remained caked under her armour, but she pushed herself up off the stone step and made her way to the great pyre. She simply followed the crowd until they reach the area thronged by the peoples of Tháinbroek to say their farewell, not only the mighty men and women that frought and died this day, but the reign of tyranny. Peace will now reign over Midvinter.
She pushed through the crowd until she reached the inner circle, she could see the Prince and the Jedi nearby and the rightful King, Thrand. All of them looked as worn as she, both physically as well as emotionally. Aerin made her way to the side of her King, but did not speak, because she did not know what to say, words unable to form in her mind. After the officiating words were complete, she stood with the rest of Midvinter and watched their bodies return to the soil of their mighty planet.
Lord [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] and [member="Thrand Dawnbringer"]
It was good to feel a little mirth, even if only for a moment, it helped quell the tension and release the emotions somewhat, the Gods know they needed it. "Don't listen to him father, you may not be as young as you once were, but you are still handsome". But time is fleeting, as much as the three would have happily remained in the Hall, they stood to leave, duty to reverence called and they would do their part with humility, honour and gratefulness.
The pyre is lit and all stood before the flames in silence as Lord Dawnbringer addressed his peoples. The Valkyri delivering their dead as the Jedi do, and this she understood, yet they will morn, how could you not? They are but sentient beings after all and regardless of training or codes, one feels loss. Jedi are better at coping with it or at least try to. But today, this coming eve Coci will allow herself to grieve.
Thurion and she moved over to the lone pyre laid out for Mannfreyd, the best and bravest of Valkyri, they all lost this day. He had been nothing but kind both she and Thurion on their arrival to Midvinter but moreover, he had saved her life on the field of battle and many more. Just as Aerin had saved Thurion, Mannfreyd hers without the call for gratitude or debt. An entirely selfless action.
After Thurion had spoke his words of praise and thanks to Mannfreyd, Coci remained beside him hand in hand and spoke to the man laid out.
War steeds stand
an endless sea
upon the land.
Breath steaming
in the early morning air
as warriors prepare for battle--
The deep belling of the horn
breaks over the field--
Loosing them
from their positions--
In a burst of motion
they pour forth
liquid in their strength.
The ground echoes
to the beat of hooves...
Battle is begun--
Ring-Givers lead the fray,
those oath bound
join with fervor,
as on this day
are oaths fulfilled--
The smell of blood,
of sweat,
lingers in the air--
Metal meets metal,
finds the soft flesh
that has been girded for war
as foemen clash;
finding each other,
locked in a dance of death
as intimate
as any courting of lovers--
Today will some father,
some mother,
lose a son--
Someone will mourn
for a brother--
Women will weep
for the empty beds
they will keep
in memory
of fallen husbands--
Over all the clamor
the Cry of the Raven rings...
And the eerie voice
of the Valkyrie sings--
Chooser of the Slain
is she,
as she points
her spectral spear
heroes fall
to ascend to Gods Hall--
Ever onward she rides,
working woe,
controlling the rise
or fall
of the battle's tide.
Silence reigns
at battle's end;
among the fallen
survivors search
for Kindred,
for Allies,
for Friends--
Giving aid
where it can be granted,
to others,
easing suffering
by speeding them
toward their end--
Men mourn,
ravens cry raucously,
wolves
with night will feast,
and women weep--
Yet when the banners wave,
when the war horn bellows,
once again
will men
answer the call--
Defending hearth and home,
with hearts that beat
to the thundering horses feet--
Remember your heroes,
hold them high--
Give them honor,
for with it they die--
Light the fire
to send them on their way--
Flames burn bright,
lighting up the night
a glowing pyre
their reward,
to pave their way, toward
the Gods Hall--
All who fall are not forgotten--
The torches needed only to touch the pyre in order to set it aflame. Watching another become engulfed in flames proved too difficult to Thurion who had to turn around to keep composure. Thrand approached him, settling a hand on his shoulder. "It's never easy to let go of those you care about. His spirit will find its way to his ancestors because of you. You've given him peace", his father said, looking over his son's shoulder into the fire. "I never got to do the same for your mother. Not being allowed to say farewell is far worse than being forced to." The elder then pulled his son close for a fatherly embrace. It didn't last nearly long enough to Thurion's liking. "Now, then... There's still much to do. The coronation will take place tonight inside the grand hall. I've made my old room available to you and yours. Go, clean yourselves up and find a fresh set of clothes. I need to meet with the clan chieftains." Thurion nodded quietly before taking Coci by the hand and lead her back up the stairs towards the keep.
He found it hard to speak, even to the woman he loved walking beside him. Today's events had scarred him in more ways than one, it seemed. "That was a lovely poem, Coci. Worthy of being made into song", he told her nonetheless, entwining his fingers with hers as they climbed the stairs.
Once they arrived at their private chambers for the evening, left untouched yet well-cared for ever since his father was exiled over 50 years ago, the two soon got out of their suits of armour at long last. To Thurion it felt as if he was light as a feather, able to take off and fly among the clouds. Adjacent to their room there existed a bathroom, far more luxurious than either could ever think would exist on Midvinter. Even Valkyri had to take regular baths, he figured. The water was warm and cleansing to the touch, and it didn't take long for him to get out of his filthy clothes in favour of climbing inside the large tub. His body was covered in cuts, bruises, dirt and dried blood. Never had taking a bath felt so good and so needed.
The step back up to the Grand Hall, seemed never ending. As the adrenalin left their bodies, mental and physical fatigue set in. The flames of the pyre still burning behind them, the crackling of wood telling them that and mournful lament of wailing from all Valkyri for their fallen heroes.
Thurion and Coci found their way to the room, and in silence, they helped each other remove the blood coated armour from their weary bodies. He is pensive, and rightly so, as she is and many things would have to be addressed at some point. But if they did not have misgivings and trepidations, they would not be sentient beings of good conscience.
Thurion peeled out to his blooded underclothes, blood mingled with many and his own, and made his way to the bathroom. Coci remained to herself for the moment, finishing her undress and allowing Thurion some time to his thoughts, but she would not leave him alone too long, in times like these, in the very difficult parts of life, they needed each other. To love someone is to take all of them and all of their life, the good and the bad.
She dropped her soiled undergarments on his, they will not be needed or kept, and entered the bathroom. She is bare of any clothing, as she too will bathe. The steam filled the room, as the cold air of Midvinter met the warmth of the bath, Thurion submerged within the waters looked done for and she moved over to him, bringing a stool to place by the bath. Coci found a cloth for washing and dipped it in the water before she began to bathe him across his shoulders and neck. Again and again she bathed him, wiping down his hair and face until all the signs of war washed off his aching body.
“Let me wash away your pain”, she whispered as she leaned in to place a kiss on his head.
Revealed, many cuts and bruises, some on his neck and face, the redness angry with the threat of infection but nothing that would not heal. It was his beautiful blonde hair that proved the hardest to rid of the blood, mattered and dry, but she continued until his golden locks were cleansed. Coci had found a small bottle of scented oils, and placing drops in her hand she ran them through his hair, until the his hair softened and shone once more.
Coci lifted one of his arms and rested it on the edge of the bath, soaking the cloth once more, she squeezed to allow the water to run over his skin, then gently removing the more stubborn grime. To the other arm she would do the same, until satisfied before she entered the warm waters. Her body signed with the healing properties of simply water on the skin, and she submerged until she was completely wet. As she broke the surface her only thought of him. The cloth laden with warmth of water and love, began to cleanse his chest.
Thurion managed a faint smile at Coci as she entered the room. When she offered to wash him, he nodded quietly. As she did so, he sat completely still and just stared straight ahead. Then she joined him in the warm water and moved close to wash his chest, at which point he raised his gaze to meet hers. "How many?" he whispered. "How many more must we watch die?" Tears began to crawl their way down his cheeks. "I feel... broken, Coci. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up." Before she could finish washing him he put his arms around her, the love of his life, burying his face in her shoulder and held her close. His body shook and trembled as he sobbed. "I can't... It's too much...!"
[SIZE=10.5pt]Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand resting on the back of his head gently caressing as she allowed him his catharsis. All she could really do at this moment was to be there for him, even though her heart had shattered sensing his pain. Their force bond swollen with emotions, she could feel everything, all pain, heart ache and fatigue, not just physical, but his tiredness of death. He had experienced so much of it in his life, and it is a young life and one that should have never had been influenced so. But this is the nature of this galaxy, so full of dangers and death that shape all that live in her. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]As his body trembled and shook under the weight of his emotions and tears washed down his cheeks she held on tight as she too cried. His questions unanswerable as this would not be the last time they would face the death of others around them. War, whether on Midvinter or no, takes a heavy toll from those involved, the ones that are left behind to face the reality of it. Whether it be blasters or bombs, shields or swords the end result remains the same. The lack of reasoning behind it all. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]“Yes it is too much, all of it is”, [/SIZE][SIZE=10.5pt]she whispered with shallow breathlessness. “It is senseless, brutal and unforgettable, but if we did nothing? What would be our questions we would ask ourselves then? To do nothing while others suffer, no, you are .. We are not capable of this, we will always go to those that need us”. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]She moved back before she took his face in her hands and looked into those brilliant blue eyes of his, reddened now with sadness. [/SIZE][SIZE=12pt] “You have every right to feel the way you do, to ask the questions of events that lead to a madding of the mind and breaking of your heart. Allow yourself this, this self-doubt because if you do not ask it of yourself you will grow cold, you would no longer be the man that I know to be strong and noble of character, the pinnacle of what we all strive to be, that of a great and humble Jedi”.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]“We mourn now and we will always”.[/SIZE][SIZE=12pt] She placed her lips to his forehead and remained there.[/SIZE]
She had assisted with the official duties as best she could, considering her injury, she remained by her Lord's side until he had no need of her. Aerin moved among the Valkyri giving aid or calming words to help sooth their pain but her body had grown tired and ached. She would soon have to attend to herself or collapse. The weight of the battle impacting on her greatly and she needed some time alone to face her demons.
Although she is leader of Clan Sabina, she is not Chieftain, that privilege reserved for men and Clan Sabina lacked a Chieftain since the death of her father and he had had no son to pass on the title. She could return to the Stag's Head to recover but she knew the Inn would be crowded and Red Beard would be there to take care of everything, she decided to make her way to the Grand Hall to be alone.
"By your leave my Lord", she said the her friend, Thrand before making her way to the steps of the Grand Hall. Her feet heavy with each step up to the main doors of the Hall as she entered, she was pleased to see the main area empty for now, it would be pack to the rafters soon enough with the coronation. A small hearth on the side wall is lit and sitting low in the grill, Aerin limped over and placed some wood encouraging the waning flames to life once more. She sat by the fire and just looked into the flames, her injured arm resting on her lap, throbbing and aching with a dull pain.
With her good arm she begin to remove her armour slowly, as best she could, but would need assistance to complete the job. However, she had managed to removed the armour from her left arm, her own blood darkened the metal and dried. Her leather undergarment cut and beneath she could see the deep wound. The bleeding had slowed considerably but she would need to have it dressed soon but for now she allowed the air to get to it and assist.
Her mind drifted to her father, Radford Strongarm, he is now avenged, "My Father rest in peace, for the man that took your life now walks the path between this world and the after life". Tears filled her eyes, as she felt a sense of relief, many years had been spent in isolation and on the run from Njal, and now she need run no more.
He knew she was right. She always was. She is his rock, she is what gives him the air to breathe and the strength to do so. Their embrace was soothing to the mind, body and soul, and soon he found he could not weep any longer. His head lifted from her bossom to press his lips against hers, and it never ceased to amaze him how she would always make him feel by merely being in the same room as her. "I love you", he whispered. Never had he felt the need to say those two words more than today, fresh from the battlefield and the many attempts on their lives. "I love you", he repeated, this time more audible. "Coci, I love you." His voice was no longer trembling.
The heat of passion now had a firm grip over him, who now leaned back against the tub, pulling her down with him. Their lips remained connected throughout, never letting go of each other. His fingertips began to roam her backside, loving every nook and cranny of her flawless figure. He could feel every little muscle of her back working with every little move she made as she now lay on top of him, both of their bodies submerged with only their heads above water. "Let me give you a taste of just how much", he then said, leaving the reader to their imagination.
While he'd instructed his men to get the great hall ready for tonight's ceremonies, Thrand himself needed a moment to himself. The deaths of many he considered friends and brothers-in-arms were now dead. He'd learned the name of every man and woman who'd sworn allegiance to him, and in having done so it hit even harder whenever their lives were extinguished. As he now wandered the place of his birth, the grand city of Tháinbroek, Thrand argued internally with himself if it was all worth it. Thousands upon thousands of people had lost family members across the vast surface of Midvinter. The short answer was no, it wasn't. The long answer he would have to find out for himself, in time.
A pack of whelps - young boys and girls - came running in his direction, most likely caught up in playing catch of some such to notice him. One of the boys bumped into the elder and would've fallen down onto the cobbled street had Thrand not caught him the moment the two collided. "Woah there, boy! In a hurry, are we?" he asked knowingly. "N-no..." the boy replied, staring up at the adult. "Tag - you're it", the next child declared once in contact with the boy moments before she too stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Thrand. Soon the whole pack had gathered around the man they all recognised as their king. "Hello, children! Being on your best behaviour, I trust?" They managed little else other than nod awkwardly in response.
"That's good to hear. When I was your age I could be a real pain in the neck, sometimes. This one time my father caught me playing with one of the weapons down in the castle armoury. He scolded me like there was no tomorrow once he found out, yet the very next day and every day after that he would take me down there himself to supervise me. Once I was old enough to actually lift the sword, he would teach me how to use it." The kids all giggled, with one of them raising his hand. "Is that the sword, there?" he asked, pointing at Dawnstar on his back. Thrand indulged the boy by unsheathing his greatsword and handing it over to him. Needless to say he couldn't lift it off the ground despite giving it his all. "Come on, help him out!" Thrand urged the littles ones, who all pitched in. While they began to devise plans on how to lift the sword, he found a nearby bench to sit down on, watching the children with great amusement.
When it became apparent that it was futile, the pack of whelps all let out a collective "aww" of disappointment. Thrand rose to his feet, then bent over to pick up his sword using but one hand, then sheathed it. "Don't worry, little ones. A day will come when you're able to swing a sword of your own, and when it does it'll be you the skalds will sing songs about for generations to come." This put a smile on their faces, and all looked up at Thrand who placed a hand upon the shoulder of the nearest whelp. "But until that day, be as you are now. You have no idea what children's laughter does to even the most seasoned warrior", he told them. "Now then, don't let me keep you. I believe you are it", he then said which prompted the children to resume their game.
"You are wrong, I believe you are it, Thrand". Aerin spoke as she pushed off the stone wall on which she had to lean to support herself. However, there was a wry smile on her face, as now he will be King come the end of the eve. She pushed her shoulders back and dropped the injured arm she had been cradling not wishing to show her Lord the injury she had sustained, it would heal well enough, but she could not heal herself, not possessing the energy to do so. The arm will scar, for her that will be fine as she will wear the scar with pride.
Her gait would tell a different story, her feet and legs feeling the burden of fatigue but she placed careful and deliberate steps toward him. The Children still playing around them, ducking in and out between the two as she neared. "The preparations are well underway, having left the warmth of the Hall's hearth to find a .. quieter place", she said forcing a smile.
Aerin looked directly into his eyes, she knew it was not the smoke from the pyre that had them red, nor hers for that matter, and to get them both to this point had been a long road on which both had traveled to restore justice and bring peace to Midvinter.
"It will snow tonight", she said looking up into the sky, "The sky has that look about it", she grinned at her own silly attempt at a joke to lighten the tension. As it always has that look about it on Midvinter. Her head remained cast toward the heavens, but her eyes fell once more over Thrand's face.
"How fares my Lord?", she finally asked concerned for him and his laden heart.
The sight of his favourite redhead only added to the soothing of his spirit, and it seemed she too had had a heavy burden taken off her shoulders. "The day it doesn't snow on Midvinter is the day I shave my beard, I tell ya!" he chuckled as he met Aerin half-way. "I feel like... it's like I've come the end of my journey, only to find that it splits off into several more. Yesterday was about fate. Today and onwards is about legacy", he told her while settling a palm upon her shoulder only to remove it soon after, his smile turning into a frown along with furrowed brows. "You are hurt."
Knowing she would protest, Thrand simply plucked her off the ground and left the group of children behind with her in his arms. "You tended to my wounds, Shieldmaiden. It's high time I return the favour." Finding a quiet spot in the form of an abandoned home, devoid of any furniture save for the essentials, Thrand lay her down in the bed. Likely the previous owners of this house fled before they laid siege to the capital. "Silly girl, not telling anyone..." he grumbled as he revealed the wound on her arm. "Now I may not be a 'witch' like yourself, but I have lived the life of a hermit long enough to know a thing or two about herbal medicine."
He reached into his pouch and soon found what he was looking for. Taking a look around the room he then found a set of mortar and pestle and immediately went to work processing the herbs. Sticking his hand out the door he grabbed a handful of snow and let it melt in his hand before adding it, creating a green paste. "This may sting a bit", he told her before he began applying it to her wound. "Njal caused this, didn't he? I trust you paid him back to greater results?"
She let out a yelp of surprise, as Thrand suddenly swept her off her feet and into his arms. Aerin wrapped her good arm around his shoulders for support as he face flushed with the awkwardness she felt that her Lord carried her off. “How must this look”, she whispered and began to giggle at her own thought. But she cared not.
As he laid her on the bed, she shot him a look like a child scolded for a wrong doing, after he called her silly girl, but knew he would do the same. “I trust herbal medicine Thrand”, she called him once more now they are alone. “It is a healing my family practiced with skill, especially my sister Inger”. It had been ages since Aerin had seen her sister, who now out within the Galaxy, is finding her path. She settled herself more comfortably as Thrand prepared the paste.
Aerin watched his hands, for such a big man with hands of steel and thick with work, they are gentle. She looked to his face, and noted his furrowed brow as he examined the wound, at this moment, she wondered what he would look like without that beard. She speculated he would look younger and would bring out his handsome looks even more. But before she could continue with her thoughts as they were going in a direction she had not expected, that of a woman toward a man, she let out a grunt of pain and hiss as Thrand applied the herbal paste to her wound. “On the battlefield we grit our teeth and dare not show our pain, but here on a sick bed, we revert to children”. She let out another cry of pain. The sting did not last long, and soon the cooling of the paste began to work, the properties of the herbs working to cleanse the wound and sooth the pain.
Her breath regain somewhat after the initially pain, “Njal .. Would not be able to answer your question in person”, she said quietly. “Whether true of no, he admitted he was the driving force behind all this, the war, vengeful attack on those loyal to your father and yourself ... and everything. But I think that might be true toward the end... what happened to my.. The Usurper?”. She had tears welling in her eyes as she looked to Thrand for an answer, not because her biological father may be dead or to face trial, but because she had his blood running through her veins. She is not her father however, and she hoped Thrand would not think less of her, now he knows the truth.
