Stefan I
"Don't slouch, boy," Gunter chided. "We may be at the back of the van, but we're still in the public's eye."
"Don't call me 'boy,'" Stefan grunted, but obeyed the knight's advice. The two let their horses slowly carry them into the city.
Trumpets announced the army's return long before Stefan ever entered the city. His place as a bastard was at the back, a position he typically felt lucky to have.
This time, returning triumphant from one of the Emperor's conquests, and riding in the back seemed more like a slap to the face than an honor.
Only once Hayden and Stefan's two oldest siblings entered the city in tandem with their respective guards and retainers did Stefan final enter alongside his single guard: Gunter.
Belated his entry may have been, but it did not dull the splendor in the slightest.
The Imperial Capital, Grisstal. The crowning jewel of the Empire, built from the blood of nearby lands. Two decades ago, the city hadn't the slightest air of regality. Now, the alabaster buildings were a mark of pride.
Citizens lined the streets, cheering at their returning heroes. Stefan smiled as he passed them, mentally preparing for waving in excess. The thought did not quench his grin or thirst for the adoration of the people.
Do they not know the innocents killed for the pride of the Empire? How each conquest our dear ruler departs on ends in families ripped apart?
The thought was quashed by a sharp look from Gunter. The ever vigilant knight always paid close attention to his charge.
"For the good of the Empire," Stefan murmured. Reinvigorated, the bastard let a wide smile resume on his face. There was nothing he could do about it, so he might as well be on the winning side.
Their parade was directed through the busiest part of the city: Market Street. A full mile long, the single stretch of road never saw solace from the multitudes of feet on the chalky bricks.
"Quite a turnout," Gunter commented. Stefan hadn't the slightest idea how the old man managed to not boil in his black armor. The half-noble was hot enough in his purple jacket that he only had one arm through his cerulean lightcoat. The other half fluttered in the light ocean breeze.
"How are you not suffering from heat stroke?" gaped Stefan, abandoning his jubilant greetings to the people.
"Years of practice." A tremor passed through the voice of the Emeraldguard.
Stefan smirked in satisfaction at his guardian's discomfort. "You should invest in a lightcoat, Gunter. They're all the rage as the summer heat sets in."
"I am comfortable as I am, Thornwood," Gunter stated, referring to the bastard by his chosen last name.
"But think of this material! The lightest of silks brought from over the seas by the most daring of sailors, still strong enough to turn away an arrow. Perfectly capable, and fashionable, for battle as well," taunted Stefan.
"Do not tempt me so," Gunter grunted, the heat starting to get to him more now.
The voice of Heath calling out his name cut off the teasing reply Stefan had at the ready. The second in line for the Empire's throne had hung back, presumably to speak with his half-brother.
The two shared little in common, except for the mane of hair each sported. Though Heath's was a far darker shade mixed with a streak of white while Stefan's colored far closer to their sister Cecilia's.
"It's good to be back, isn't it?" Heath grinned.
"Grisstal never ceases to amaze," Stefan agreed.
The brothers let their horses carry them at the same pace while Gunter dropped behind.
"You should try speaking with father about riding in the front of the vanguard," Heath suggested. "I think I could convince him to allow you to."
"Perhaps I will," Stefan nodded, smiling at the prospect. "Next campaign, eh?"
Heath laughed, "There'll always be another, won't there?"
"So long as Hayden is Emperor Reinheart, I fear there will always be another battle." Stefan sighed as their part of the group left Market Street.
His older brother nodded wistfully. "If only Hayden would allow Cecilia take the throne. Or even me. Consolidating our power and eliminating our enemies within should be our goal, not expanding our boundaries."
"Lower your voice, this is not the place for such loud talk," the half-noble cautioned. In a softer tone, Stefan continued, "We must obtain as much fertile land if we are to fill the stomachs of our people."
"Surely we have enough of that by now," Heath grumbled. "But I see your point. Might you speak to father about it?"
Stefan frowned. "Our father doesn't heed my counsel. I'm not a Reinheart, and forever he will hold that against me."
The armored man laughed. "Come now, I'm sure that's untrue. He has his most trusted advisor, general and captain watching over you. Pressure from the other nobles probably keeps him from openly caring."
"Huh," Stefan furrowed his eyebrows. "Maybe you're right."
"Think about it, at least?" Heath asked.
"I will," the lightly dressed man assured. "How do you think Guy and Lugh will react to us returning home?"
"I suspect they will be happier to see you than I," Heath said, an edge to his tone. "You always had more time to spend with them."
"You're still their legitimate brother," Stefan said, ignoring his brother's voice. "Blood is blood."
"Blood is all red in the end," Heath shrugged.
The Imperial Bridge came into view as they duo rounded the corner. Heath tightened his grip on the reigns. "I have to go ahead to enter with father. I think he's beginning to think higher of me."
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Stefan chose not to comment, and merely nodded in response. The older of the two spurred his horse forward to the bridge.
"It might be a fair idea for yourself to ride ahead," Gunter advised, his mount speeding up to keep pace with Stefan's.
"Why the sudden patriotism? I do not believe I would be well received if I walked into Castle Grisstal hand-in-hand with my father," Stefan spat out.
Gunter nodded, acknowledging his charge's point. "True enough, but I think there might one certain individual who is interested in your return."
The bastard turned his head to make sure he'd heard the old warrior correctly. A wry smile graced the captain of the Emeraldguard's face. "Go," he said. "I'll be fine back here."
Grinning, Stefan cracked the reigns. His mount whinnied and sped forward. The people that lined the streets (Though far less thickly now) cheered at the display.
The breeze caressed the flowing mane atop his head. All he had left to cross was the lengthy bridge that connected Castle Grisstal to the city proper.
Until a rider stepped in front of him.
Yanking on the reigns as hard as he could, Stefan pulled his horse to an abrupt halt. His sister, Cecilia beckoned him to the side of the Imperial Bridge.
"I was hoping to speak to you, Stefan," she said. The parade continued forward without her. The overeager bastard hadn't realized how far ahead he had ridden.
A small crowd of retainers and guards broke off the group and waited a respectful distance away. Hayden relentlessly continued on, pausing for nothing with Heath at his side.
"This is a rare occurrence, sister," Stefan remarked.
"I apologize for taking you away from whatever pressing matters begged your attention," she said. Cecilia meant it, a sentiment that did not go unnoticed by her half-brother.
"I can spare some time for family," he supplied, relaxing in his saddle.
"This may be the only time for a while where we can speak without father's forbearing gaze down our backs," Cecilia said, lowering her voice an octave. "Tell me, have you noticed anything about father as of late?"
"No," Stefan replied honestly. Gunter told him to feel lucky that the Emperor paid as much attention to him as he did.
His sister sighed. "I fear he may be growing cruel."
"He always has been."
"But that butchery after he killed the Nabatnan leader? That was in excess!" Cecilia exclaimed in a hushed tone. "He usually lets go the ones who surrender."
"I think he was trying to send a message," Stefan mused. "Something to turn other tribes and enemies away from attacking Lokiria."
"Perhaps," the green haired woman said wistfully. "I worry that the road we are on may not be the best for the future of the Empire."
The half-noble shook his head. "You're the heiress. Only you can convince him of anything. Try getting Gunter on your side. Hayden is more apt to listen to his esteemed general and Emeraldguard."
"Indeed," Cecilia brightened. "Thank you, Stefan. I'll let you get back to whatever it was that had you racing down the alabaster bridge."
Stefan snorted. "You'd think it'd get dirty after all the traffic."
"Oh, I suspect it will. The sea and Lokirians will scrub it clean for certain. Pride is something nobles and commoners in Grisstal both understand."
He let Cecilia ride toward the castle ahead of him. Eager or not, it would be unwise to arrive before the heiress to the Empire.
Stefan fixed his eyes on the looming white castle. It had been built on a rock that protruded from the ocean further than all others. According to early Lokirian texts, the ocean didn't used to extend as far as it did now. The water made the castle practically impenetrable. The Imperial Bridge was the only way in—and out.
At long last, the royal entourage arrived through the gates of Castle Grisstal. The bastard took the entrance as his cue to make his way to the gates.
Inside the castle proper, heralds sang out the triumphant return. Every attendant and man trying to get ahead in the world clamored for Hayden's attention. The smarter and more ambitious struck up conversations with Cecilia. And the ones who were either immensely clever, or incredibly stupid, spoke with Heath.
None approached Stefan as he rode through the gates. At most, he received a glance and perhaps a nod of acknowledgement.
That is, until the half-noble had gotten off his horse. One of the stableboys took the mount away in time for the reason of Stefan's hurry to reveal herself.
"Stef!" cried a voice. It was lost to all but the man himself in the surrounding noise.
"Lucia!" grinned the green haired bastard.
The two embraced, holding one another longer than would be proper of friends. No eyes lingered on the bastard and lesser known woman.
None except for Heath's.
"Come on." Lucia grabbed Stefan's wrist, and made her way to the interior of the castle with the bastard in tow.
"Oh, I love it when you're dominating," winked Stefan. The woman's cheeks tinged with a blush, marking a stark contrast between her face and aqua hair.
The two exited the celebrations without a complaint. They were invisible to all eyes.
Just how they liked it.
Author Notes: This story is going to take some investing, I think. It's a departure from my 'jump into the action' expositions that I'm fond of, so you'll have to wait around for sparks to fly. Though I believe you'll be enjoying this pace far more than my other stories.
This fanfic is a huge departure from all of my typical habits and quirks. Some I've always had since I started writing, and others I picked up for Impossible Emblem (Which I will defend a fair number of those choices, since I believe it to be my best multichapter fanfic and the fact that many were important to the tone/style). So no massive amounts of characters, no quick POV shifts, and no crazy amount of deaths. I'm done with all that, though I won't promise that I'll not be bloodthirsty at times ;)
With that being said, I want your help in this, people. If it seems like I'm going off in the wrong direction, tell me! I know I've started off on the right foot here, and I want to continue that.
I detest huge author notes. This will be the last one. But one last thing: Game of Thrones fans! Let's talk Season 6 if you want!
Trivia! You may notice some things feel like FE14. This is unintentional, and is simply because I have played that game within the past two months. I suspect this story will take some Dragon Age elements once I get into that game soon as well. All I have purposely taken from FE14 are the Part names, which I think I can do a better job with than they did.
