AN: Please be aware that the relationships between characters (Te'Ijal and Galahad in particular) have been tweaked. I felt Te'Ijal's treatment of Galahad was, at the least, severely abusive, and as a survivor of severe domestic abuse myself, with complex PTSD as a result, I cannot write those characters as even close to protagonists. I cannot condone abuse, even in a fictional story, nor WILL I. So be aware, Te'Ijal has *reasons* for doing what she did and eventually comes to give Galahad his choice of his freedom, and Galahad doesn't end up being the dopey deathseeker by the end of this, as he was written in the game. My apologies-I know that takes them far OOC-but I simply could not write them the way they were and live with myself.
Lars may also be a *bit* too romantic for some. Later, anyway. But, at least in my opinion, Lars' character development is the most pulling thing about his relationship with Rhen. By the time this story takes place, Lars is not even close to the jerk he was at the beginning of their journey, and that's canon. So, if Lars is a bit OOC for some, I'm okay with that. (Also, the same problem arises that I had with Te'Ijal and Galahad. I can't write the hero of the story as a total jerk to his love interest and have her be okay with it.)
That said, on to the story.
Chapter 1 (RHEN)
Rhen lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and warring with the covers. Princess Rhen Pendragon—the name felt as alien to her as her new kingdom. She was a Darzon, for the sake of the sun. Yet, despite her gnawing fears and discomfort, she had to face her duty.
A mad desire to laugh almost overcame her. A queen, her? Bah. She'd have better luck as a seamstress than a queen. She knew nothing about either, but at least no one would die if she mucked up a seam. If she made a mistake as the ruler of demon-plagued Thais, the entire city might perish.
How on Aia would she deal with the pressure?
Rhen tossed in her luxurious bed, gave it up, and kicked the covers aside. As she pushed up to stand, the band of sun crystal on her wedding finger pinched. She shook out her hand and sighed. Even her engagement ring felt foreign. She frowned and pushed her ring into a more comfortable position, possibly for for the hundredth time that night.
Why did nothing in her life fit anymore?
Some fresh air might do her good. Rhen breathed deep, but the floral scent of courtyard roses failed to mask the taint of ash from the Blasted Lands. The faint, acrid odor of dark sorcery put her on edge.
She needed her sword, even now. She grabbed it from beside her bed and strapped it to her back. The blade rippled with ancient arcane magic, whistling a faint melody into the night air. The familiar weight and sound comforted her as she moved to the window.
"I need to get out of this castle for a while."
Rhen pressed her hands into the cool stone and gazed over the sleeping city. Darkness blanketed every castle window from her view, save one. Two doors down from her, Elini's light blazed bright into the darkness.
A male figure crept up and down in front of the light.
Rhen gripped her sword tighter and leaned into the stone. "What on Aia?"
The figure turned toward the light, and a familiar voice put Rhen's nerves at ease.
"Elini," came John's uncertain drawl, "you're a fine lady, and if you didn't have a right harem of husbands, I'd consider you, but I won't be second fiddle to another man! And I sure won't be the fourth!"
Elini's soft voice murmured, "What makes you think you would be second, John? I wish you as my primary—the king of my household, so to speak."
John stopped pacing. "Er, you do?"
"Aye. Does that suit you?"
"Well, it's better than I—" He whirled around. "Blast it, woman! I won't fall for your tricks!"
Elini's giggle made Rhen smile. Wouldn't fall for her tricks? As much as John tried to deny it, he had one foot in the hole, if not both. John had a strong will, but he was no match for the Veldt woman overused to getting her way. In the end, Elini would have her husband. Again.
Husband? Rhen spun her ring again, her thoughts drifting to her own upcoming marriage.
Why am I so calm about this? Shouldn't I be as giddy and excited as Te'ijal? Even for what she is, she can barely contain her happiness. I can't say the same for her fiancé, but, well, Galahad is getting used to the idea. Slowly.
Rhen glanced at the sun crystal on her hand, and her worry deepened.
I should be thrilled, she thought, but I'm just… not. I'm uneasy. I don't understand it. Dameon has been the picture of a perfect suitor—romantic, loving, attentive.
She turned to her vanity and frowned at the gigantic vase of red roses sprawling in front of the mirror. Dameon had brought them—a sweet gesture, but so impractical.
Rhen shook her head, swishing her braid over her shoulder. The simple silver tie holding it in place drew her notice, and she played with the elastic. Lars wasn't the gentlest of men—certainly he lacked Dameon's tact and poise—but no one could fault his sense. His gift of a hair tie and cloak was far more practical. He had stashed the pockets full of healing scrolls, too.
Lars—as she thought of him, coldness filled her belly. His eyes, his expression when Dameon had announced their engagement—it had haunted her all week. As always, he kept himself together, but his eyes belied his cool demeanor.
She twisted her ring, and tugged it down her knuckle.
Does he care for me?
She turned away from the window and leaned against the frame, pinning back a wave of sorrow.
"Lars? Have feelings for me? The sun would sooner go around the moon."
Rhen covered her hurt with a laugh. No matter. Dameon loved her, at least. Why was she worried about Lars, anyway? He had made his distaste for her clear from the beginning.
I'm being ridiculous. I'm going to take a walk and stop thinking such silly things.
Comforted, Rhen tugged on a pair of pants and pulled on her new cloak. She tucked a dagger into her boot and shoved a few of Lars' scrolls in her pocket. With a satisfied nod, she crept into the hall, using a bit of her sword magic to light the way.
The castle was a lonely place at three in the morning. Only the occasional gargoyle and the night watch paid her any heed as she traveled down solemn hallways to the castle courtyard. Moonlight spilled onto roses—blooms identical to the ones on her vanity table. She frowned. Dameon had acted as though he had gone to great trouble to find those flowers.
A quiet sniffle brought her attention to the other side of the cobblestone square. Beyond a fountain, a tall, slender man sat hugging his knees and trembling.
Rhen's heart went out to him as she approached, making not a sound on the stone paths. She heard faint indrawn breaths as she came closer, hidden behind the sounds of the fountain. He was crying, this man, and trying not to be seen.
She froze, uncertain.
Should I let him be?
A soft, broken whimper stilled her heart. She knew his voice. Would know it anywhere.
All hesitation thrown aside, she plopped down on the fountain beside him and took him into a gentle hug.
"Shh. Lars, it's okay."
"R-Rhen?" Lars' voice trembled. "W-what, why are y—get off of me!" He snarled and pulled away from her, scrubbing his face across his sleeve. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
She folded her arms across her chest. "I thought it was obvious. I was trying to make you feel better. You were crying."
"Hah! Shows what you know! I was just, uh, thinking of our plan of attack tomorrow."
Her eyebrows lifted into her hairline. "Really? You suck at lying, Lars."
"You suck at everything else," he retorted, his ears red, and his eyes on his feet.
She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She stood and turned away. "I'm going for a walk. Want to come with me, or would you prefer to sulk?"
"Why would I want to come with you, Peta?"
"That again? Lars, please. Don't freeze me out. I asked because you're my friend, and whether you want help or not, you clearly need it. So, are you coming?"
He turned his back and muttered into the stone, his voice dripping with bitterness. "Don't bother. Dameon's around here somewhere. I'm sure you'd rather walk with him."
Rhen hesitated. Did she want Dameon's company ... or not?
It didn't matter either way. Lars wouldn't come anywhere with her, not now. She had caught him in a rare moment of vulnerability—whether he would ever forgive her was anyone's guess.
"Have it your way." Rhen tugged her cloak tighter and stalked out of the courtyard, her heart conflicted and dreary.