A/N: This story has been in my head for a long while, and after nearly a year of whittling down multiple AUs, plots, and story arcs, I've finally been able to bring this fic to life. Consider it in a vaguely-14th century era, research has been done but facts are hazy and inconsistent, so I had to work with what I was given. Huge huge /huge/ thanks to une-pomm3 on tumblr for agreeing to be my beta reader, I'd never be able to do this without her help! I hope you all enjoy this fic, and you can expect updates every 2-3 weeks as my senior year in high school is my highest priority.

I've never actually written a proper fic before, let alone any sort of real narrative. This may be a bit of a slippery slope for me, but I hope you will enjoy this story as I've been working on it for a long while! A big thanks to cloudartoh on tumblr for helping me with this chapter along with une-pomm3!

CHAPTER 1

The sun's glow was a vibrant orange, sending bright rays across the kingdom as it sank low in the sky. Afternoon was melting into evening, long shadows now cast in the wakes of buildings and fences. Søren leaned against a tree, wiping sweat from his brow before combing a hand through his unruly blond hair. He'd spent his day in the field, the late summer heat having got to him hours before but, despite himself, he'd continued on working. Now, dozens of filled baskets were scattered around the empty field, and his sisters, who'd just returned from church, had taken on the duty of bringing them back to their family's house, which was more or less a glorified shed. The Andersens didn't have much money to go around, but God, were they thankful for what they had; there was a roof over their head and most always food on their plate, and they couldn't complain. But Søren, oh what a boy, he had much more in mind.

It was times like these, times where he would sit and catch his breath after a long day of work , staring wistfully down into the village, that he wished he could do more for his family. He was young, barely twenty two years old, and lacked the education and social status to ever become more than a farm hand. But the castle, the extravagant, elegant castle that sat atop a hill overlooking the town did nothing but taunt him. No, he didn't want royalty; he thought it would only make him corrupted and scornful, and he, such a bright young man with so much potential… It wouldn't suit him at all. Soldiers, however, were well kept, respectful, and they made more in a day than Søren's family made in a month. He would give anything to be able to join them.

As a child, he'd always looked up to them; their shining armour and heroic status, their strength and will and courage were more than enviable. His own father had been of high social status, enough to join the cavalry. Even though their family was now poor, Andersen was a prideful name in their kingdom, known far and wide as one of bravery and chivalry. Søren's father had left him with an opportunity to follow in his footsteps, and now that he was old enough he wanted nothing more than to enlist, but his mother wouldn't allow it. She had a new reason every time – "It's too dangerous", "We need you here to help us" – and, while she was right, he felt it was unfair, both to him and the rest of his family; he had so much potential, he could help them so much more…

A sigh escaped him as he slowly stood up, walking towards the barn in a tired and thoughtful state of mind. His tattered shoes sank in the soft, loamy soil as he made his way across the field, his mind still occupied with thoughts of standing dignified in that suit of shining armour. He imagined now, as he always had, holding his sword and shield bravely in front of him, slashing and slicing through those who opposed him, fighting valiantly for his homeland. But now, as he unlatched the door to the family's barn and ushered the cows and horses out, those dreams seemed even further away than ever; his farm was all he had ever known. Søren turned back towards the castle as he opened the doors wide, his eyes shining.

He'd been of age to enlist for a few years now… so what was stopping him? 'My family,' he thought, scoffing at himself. It would be selfish to leave them now, his oldest sister was barely eleven. 'My mother, my sisters – he closed and locked the barn door – 'my work, my animals, my… Everything.'

He heaved another sigh, now jumping over the fence that separated the pastures from the fields and moving to help gather the remaining baskets. He couldn't help but dream of wearing that suit of armour, holding that sword and shield, and seeing the gleeful looks on his family's faces when they knew there would be no more worrying about scraping by. He could be a hero, both for his family and the Kingdom, if only, if only he could justify it.

But now, as he walked back to his home, a basket under each arm and a grin plastered to his face as his sisters ran towards him, he didn't want to leave. His two sisters – the younger a spitting image of their mother, right down to her messy hair and crooked grin, while the older the polar opposite, her hair smoothed into plaits and her expression placid – meant the world to him. How could he ever leave home knowing he'd be leaving them behind?

"Søren, Søren!" They said excitedly, each grabbing a basket from under his arm after hugging him tightly around the waist.

"Whoa—Hey, hey!" He spluttered, laughing though somewhat winded by the impact. "How was your day?"

"It was fine," said Solveig, the oldest, as she lifted the heavy basket up to her chin, smiling warmly at him.

"We went up to the castle today!" Helle's gleeful voice followed as she pushed the basket, which was nearly as tall as her, across the floor. "We got to see the guards!"

"Did you, now?" Søren asked, his voice now a forced tone of cheeriness; he felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he smiled down at her; how could he ever leave these two?

He moved to give the two of them a hug, but was stopped by Helle, his six year old, two-foot-nothing sister, who wrapped herself around his shin and smiled giddily up at him. Now, he smiled sincerely, laughing with her and ruffling Solveig's hair as he limped into the house. She gave a huff, smoothing out her hair and shooting Søren a playfully annoyed look before swatting his hand away.

"Mom's still in town," She said, opening the door to their room and letting the barely-there glow of the evening light filter in. "I don't know what she went for, but I think they're building a trade route through the village. That's what she told me before she left."

"They are?" Søren's voice was quizzical as he pried a giggling Helle off of his leg and moved to sit against the wall. "What for?"

"Something to do with the Kingdom the Queen came from," She explained, sitting on her bed and unravelling her plaits. "The new Queen, not the dead one. They want a better relationship between the two Kingdoms, I guess."

"And where'd you hear this from?"

"I listen."

Søren rolled his eyes at Solveig's smug smile, now petting Helle's hair as she sat sleepily, though still giggling, in his lap. The sun had now sunk below the horizon, the faintest of pink glows shining above the trees and the sky a navy blue. He stared out the smudged window, still absently stroking his sister's hair as the other worked at her own. He could see the faintest of lights shining through the ornate windows of the castle, and his mind wandered back to where it was a few minutes before. His expression was longing, and he let his head loll to the side as he daydreamed once again.

"What's troubling you?" Solveig's voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked over to see her giving him a puzzled look. Her expression was placid, but her eyes hinted that she knew more than she wanted to let on. She followed where his eyes had been and stared at the window, seeing the glowing lights of the castle and sighing lightly as she turned slowly back to him.

"Nothing," Søren said, his voice uncharacteristically sharp as he stood up, carrying a sleeping Helle in his arms. He laid her down in the bed next to Solveig's, gently bringing the covers over the younger girl's shoulders and kissing her forehead as the other gave him a diminishing look.

"We both know you're lying," she remarked, an eyebrow quirked as Søren made to smooth out the covers of the bed, not looking at Solveig until he'd put on his most convincing grin.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me," he said hastily, ruffling her hair again and chuckling at her. His smile faltered when she didn't swat away his hand like normal, but rather stared at him with her eyebrows raised, her arms crossed, and her mouth set in a frown. He couldn't help but truly laugh at this.

"You're 'bout as intimidating as a kitten right now," he joked, now smoothing down her hair for her as her frown deepened. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'm fine."

"You're not fine," she pushed, grabbing his hand from her head and holding it in her own. Her eyes were now pleading as she stared up at him. "What's wrong?"

Søren hesitated for a moment, meeting her gaze and weighing his thoughts. How could he lie to her, his own sister? He loved the two more than anything, and now one was sitting in front of him, truly worried about him.

"You're wise beyond your years, kiddo," he sighed, kneeling down in front of her bed and holding her face in his hands. "It's nothing you have to worry about, alright? I told you, I'm fine."

Solveig frowned at him again, her dark blue eyes searching his as Søren patted her cheek and tried to give her a convincing smile. "Fine," she huffed, falling backward onto the bed and turning away from him, dropping the subject. "But I'm not done with you yet. I'll get it out of you later, whether you like it or not."

Søren sighed then, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "You're exhausting, Veig." He moved to grab the sheets from her bed, but she'd already begun tucking herself in. "Clever, but exhausting."

"I know."

With a laugh at her smug smile and a kiss to her forehead, Søren left the room. He was still smiling as he closed the creaking door and entered the landing, where his mother sat at a small table, a bag on the floor next to her and a grin on her face, despite the evaluative look in her eyes. His smile broadened as he stepped over and wrapped his arms around her.

"When'd you get home?" He asked once they parted, sitting across from her and taking the cup of water she offered him.

"A while ago," she said, her voice drawling. "Didn't want to interrupt you." She smiled over at him. Søren nodded in thanks, knowing her kind-hearted intentions. His lips parted and he made to speak, but his mother piped up before he'd gotten the opportunity.

"So?" Her tone was expectant, but Søren wasn't sure what for.

"So…"

"Solveig's never wrong." She looked up at him over the rim of her cup, eyebrows raised and though her mouth was hidden, he could see she was grinning smugly. Søren laughed then, setting his cup down and leaning back in his chair; Helle may have been the one to take after their mother appearance-wise, but Solveig had her clever, inquisitive personality.

"Look, it's— it's complicated. I don't think you want to get into it at this hour," he explained, running a nervous hand through his hair. Now that he'd been confronted with it by his mother, it was a far more serious topic. She'd always been sensitive to the idea of him leaving home, be it for a career or for a short trip. Søren's father had passed away five years before, having been killed in action as a part of the cavalry and ever since the family had been in shambles. Just the thought of having Søren gone left his mother in a hysterical, faraway state; without him around, she wasn't able to function. He'd taken on the role of both a loving father and a caring brother to his sisters, and the impact he'd have on the family if he left would be devastating.

"No, it's important to talk about things," she said, an air of nonchalance about her that he knew would vanish in seconds if he brought up what was on his mind.

With a sigh, Søren looked up at his mother, his eyes cloudy and lips parted as if to speak, though he was still apprehensive. As he stared into her pale blue eyes, the same shade as his own, he couldn't help but feel another pang of guilt in his chest. How could he do this to her? He knew the pain he would cause, the damage he'd do if he decided to leave now. But his family would be far better off. Even if they were without him, they'd be in a far more comfortable situation, and that's what mattered to Søren. But then again, wealth means nothing if you're miserable, and he'd seen his mother in one of her mournful spells. Even if they did have money, he'd never let himself live their grief down.

"It's just… I've been thinking about how—you know, how I'm an adult now, I should be getting a job soon, y—"

"Is this not work enough?" His mother gestured to the ajar door, outside of it lay their farmland.

"No, no, it is! It's just that I feel I could do more for us," Søren said, his voice slow as he carefully picked over his words. He could tell though, by the distant look in his mother's eye, that she knew what he was trying to say. Still, he pressed on. "We need the money, mother, this isn't going to keep us going for long."

She said nothing, but simply stared at him, her brows furrowed and a deep frown carved into her face, making the lines of her cheeks and eyes stand out.

Søren sighed again, running his hand through his hair as he fumbled over his words. "I know we've talked about this, and… And I know how you feel, but please—please, for them," he said, his voice waning as he turned toward his sisters' room. He stared at the wall for a moment, breath hitched and trying to think of what he could say to make this any easier. When words failed him, he turned back to her, a look of pleading desperation now apparent on his face; but now his mother was staring blankly out the window, expression placid and eyes betraying nothing. She was gone.

'Always this, why always this?' He thought, setting his elbows on the table and resting his forehead in his hands. The two stayed like that for a long while, Søren's mind racing while his mother's was devoid of thought. There was little point in trying to push himself further, but he couldn't help but dream, despite knowing the consequences it'd have on his mind. It was selfish, yes, and he knew this, but someday, he thought, there'd come a day where he'd get what he'd always dreamed of. Someday, rather than becoming distant, his mother would finally say—

"Fine."

Søren's head shot up so fast his vision began to swim, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Wh—"

"Fine." Her voice was far more forceful.

But a single glance at his mother told him that no, it wasn't. Something was definitely wrong. Søren stood up from the table, moving quickly over to where his mother sat, but he was halted by her angered outburst.

"Just go! Leave!" She shot him a fiery glare, one that he'd never witnessed before. A stir came from the room adjacent, but Søren was far too preoccupied with his mother to notice.

"M-mother, I—" He began, but his mother had shot up from her seat and left the house, slamming the door behind her. Never had he ever known this side of his mother… this was foreign to him. Fear prickled inside him as he stood rigidly on the spot, staring at the back door, too shocked to move. It wasn't until the bedroom door creaked open and a drowsy Helle ambled out that Søren had shifted. He picked her up, bringing her back to her bed despite her whining protests and meagre punches to his shoulder.

"What happened? I wanna s—s—see…" she yawned huffily as Søren struggled to tuck her back into bed, her kicking keeping the covers at bay.

"Nothing, nothing, just go back to bed," He pressed a feather light kiss to her forehead, trying to hide the panic in his voice as he glanced out the open door of the room. His mother was still outside.

Søren sat down on the floor, hands shaking as he wracked his brain for any sane thought of what he could do now; his mother was far too upset with him and reconciliation did not seem a possibility, and at this hour, he'd nowhere to go. He buried his face in his hands, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he rocked back and forth on the ground. 'What am I going to do, what am I going to do?'He thought, and despite his edgy demeanour, his mind was now blank; all reason he'd had was lost. A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his hysterical state, and he peered up to see Solveig standing over him, her expression guarded.

"Solveig," he croaked, his voice quiet, both wary of waking his sister and weary of his mother.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" She asked, though it seemed more of a statement than anything. Before Søren could respond, she continued. "I knew it. Here—I'll help you pack your things."

On any other occasion, He would have joked, said something along the lines of 'No need to be so eager, now'. But right now, he was a loss for words, and as he watched his sister open the crate that sat at the end of his bed, her expression resolute, he couldn't find any cheer in himself.

"Are you…?" He began, but hadn't known what he would say. Solveig cut him off quickly, staring at him with clouded eyes.

"It's inevitable now. She doesn't want you here." Her voice was sharp, making the blunt statement hit even harder.

"Solveig, you don't know that—"

"I do. I heard it all."

Søren's face fell, his previously incredulous expression replaced with one of unguarded devastation.

"Solveig…" He said, dropping his usual pet names as he moved to embrace her. She didn't return the gesture, though, and kept on piling his things into a small bag.

"I hear it every time, it's nothing new," she said, looking back at him, her eyes still betraying no emotion. While it was a dreary attempt, Søren knew it was her way of consoling him. "Well—you getting your way is a bit new, but not completely unexpected."

His eyes fell to the bag she was packing and he moved to help her, but she swatted his hands away, staring at him coldly.

"I'll do it." She spared him no kindness as she worked, ignoring him all the while. "Besides, I'm going to have to play the parent now…"

Søren's breath hitched at this, and he choked back tears as he hugged her again. "Solveig, I never meant for any of this to happen, I—"

"You're lying"

"Solv-"

"If you hadn't meant for it to happen, you would never have brought it up again in the first place!" Solveig spat, her voice as angered as their mother's had been minutes before. But, as Søren looked pleadingly to her, he saw tears shining in her eyes.

Neither said anything for a long while, Søren sitting staring blankly at the wall as his thoughts shifted between his sister and his mother and the fact that his greatest wish had come true in the most horrible way possible. His dream turned to a nightmare, and now that he knew he was no longer welcome in his home, he wanted nothing more than to take it all back and never speak of it again. But it was too late now, and as Solveig turned to him, tears streaming down her face as she shoved the bag toward him, he let his own tears fall from his eyes. They both stared at each other for a moment, Søren's expression vulnerable while Solveig's cold, despite her tears. After a few seconds, though, her face crumpled, and she fell into his chest, sobs wracking her small frame.

"Don't go…" She croaked between sobs. "I don't want you to go…"

Søren held her tightly, trying his hardest not to cry in front of his sister, trying to give her some form of strength, but in his state, it was no use. He sobbed with her. They stayed there a while, both of them knowing it'd be the last time they'd see each other in a long, long while. Søren stroked her back, trying to offer some comfort as Solveig struggled to regain her composure. They separated several minutes later, tears still streaming down their faces.

"Solveig," Søren said shakily, standing up and holding both of her hands in his. He struggled to continue, his mind and heart both far too weary to withstand this any longer. But as she stared expectantly up at him, he forced himself to continue. "Make sure you're a good girl, alright? Don't get into any trouble." She nodded tearfully at this, eyebrows furrowed and lip trembling.

"Make sure you get to bed on time, and help Mother as much as you can; she's going to need you to be strong— can you promise me you'll stay strong?" Another nod. "Take good care of Helle for me, alright? You're a good girl. You're smart, you're kind; I know you can do this. I believe in you." He knelt down then, embracing her one last time.

She began to sob again, and it took all of Søren's will to pull away from the embrace. He pressed a feather light kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he said, a broad, watery smile on his face as he stood up again, ruffling her hair. "I'll miss you."

Solveig hadn't moved to smooth her hair down, and instead grabbed him around the waist, now practically wailing, though Helle now slept soundly a few feet away. She shrieked 'Don't go, don't go' between sobs, and Søren's smile, though he tried to stay strong, faltered so as he pried her off of him.

"We'll see each other again someday, Veig. Don't cry." He sat down on the floor again, refusing to leave while knowing the state she was in. He held her face between his hands, stroking her cheeks and wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

"Promise?" Solveig's voice was small, barely a whisper

"Promise," he answered, kissing her forehead once again and, after she'd stopped crying, stood up, ushering her to bed and tucking her under the covers. "I'll come visit, okay? Sometime when Mother isn't so upset anymore."

Solveig nodded in reply, her bottom lip still trembling though her tears were gone.

He turned and left the room after a reluctant few minutes with his sisters, and now that he'd left, he could hear Solveig sobbing again. It took every ounce of strength in him not to go back, and now he had no choice but to leave. With nothing but tears in his eyes and guilt in his heart, Søren left his home and set off down the cobbled path to the village. There was no looking back now, and only one thought was on his mind; he had to do this, for Solveig and for Helle. He had to do it for them.