A keen grip on the reins angled him back homeward, the journey taking long but for all considerations his progress was swift. Over the past ten years he had been on the battlefield making a name for himself and his household. As he had told Astridr all the years they'd been parted, he would return to her when he was worthy of her, able to support her and her issue. Although he shouldn't be distracted from his return home, he couldn't prevent his mind from wandering to her supple grace and beauty of his betrothed. The last time he had seen her she had been a young, on the verge of blossoming into the most beautiful enchantress in existence. If the memory of her from ten years ago was enough to make him turn his head than the thought of her now, he shifted impatiently in the saddle to lessen discomfort, was enough to make his blood stir.
Before he got to his ancestral home his father would be buried in his grave. The body could be preserved but not long enough to make his mother stay her hand for his return, his father would be laid to rest and he'd pay his "respects" whenever he got there and assumed his inheritance. The thought of the death of his sire, it did not bring forth any strong sentiments of grief, only mute respect. That is all he could feel was respect for the man, his father had not been a kind man but he'd done what he must. Regardless he was in no hurry to be home and his thought was to angle towards the home of his bride-to-be.
Ten years ago, he had made his promise and it was a long time to make a lady wait for her lord and husband. At twenty three years of age she'd be a maiden who should have already been with one or two children for how long she had lived. When it came to a question of distance her home, on the borders was closer than his practically on the way to his. It struck him as a waste of time and energy to pass her by to return to the comforts of his home only to return later for her. The deciding factor for his argument was when he looked up to the sky and noticed it was almost dark, he had ridden nonstop taking a few short breaks amounting to mere snatches of sleep. The idea of riding through the cold winter's night was unappealing in sharp comparison to the thought and idea of arms, "My sire is already buried in his grave and my mother, she'll never know."
Vytis stopped only long enough to write a missive alerting Margrave Gudleifr of his approach; it would be discourteous to arrive on his doorstep asking for his hospitality. He was sure that because of the nature of the arrangement with his own blood that Gudleifr would not refuse him nevertheless he waited for response although his greatest instinct was to go and bury himself in the welcoming embrace of his wife-to-be.
"My lady! You should not be out! You are going to catch your death! And for what? A stupid bird?"
Her prone form was hunched in a sitting position, wedged between where the strong branch met the tree's trunk. Her only reaction was that of her head turning in the direction of her companion. Mereit's reaction was predictable, expected at best. Astridr didn't get why her loyal companion did not understand the fact that she no longer remotely had any wish to live through her incomplete existence. Following what she had seen several months ago her father had tried to make her transition, her fall from grace, as peaceful as possible nevertheless anything that had been bestowed upon her by the now "late" Duke of Lorraine in Vytis' stead had been given to her sister. Everything she had once called her own had been an illusion that was swept away by the reality of his sister's ascension. It didn't matter that she was the eldest or the heiress, she wasn't anymore, and she was merely an invalid dependent upon the generosity of her family.
The only comfort had been Varukiri, the young falcon had aged over the years but she was still fair and cunning. Age had given her experience and it made her look more beautiful. Even in the decline of her health Astridr had been determined that Varukiri should not suffer, that she be taken out and allow to hunt. No one knew how to handle the huntress save herself, and so despite her health complications, even if it cost her life she saw through it – it became a daily ritual for her. Vytis had given Varukiri into her keeping and while it saddened her that she would one day return her to him, in the interim she would care for Varukiri well – for him. Her shoulders shifted beneath the fur-lined cloak as she tried to hide a silent cough wracked her lungs. Predictably her excursion outside, into the cold did nothing to aid her and every night she went to sleep weak and in pain but it was worth it. To see Varukiri thrive, so that she could imagine and dream about was it was like to extend one's wings and soar - transcending one's boundaries and limitations.
"My lady!"
"Go away Mereit. I am going to die anyways what matter is it of when it happens," truthfully she'd much rather choose when her own death was to occur so that it would be on her terms, so she could have some fleeting control over the tempest of her own existence.
"My lady! You shouldn't say things like that!"
Ignorance of such reproach came easily normally but this time it was a piercing shriek from Varukiri that distracted her. Her eyes glancing to see, in the distance, an approaching rider, "A Rider?"
If there was any saving grace for her it was her curiosity and with as much grace as possible she slipped out of the tree, holding out a gloved hand for Varukiri to land upon. Mereit tried to embrace her, flinging a blanket over the cloak on her shoulders but she ignored it, slipping inside. Varukiri shifted on her hand as she noticed the rider being received in the hall. It was no one of import so she knew he'd be given a tip and sent off. Her father gazed up at her momentarily, as if noticing her presence on the staircase before opening the missive. At his side, her sister's healthy visage never strayed far from her Father. The Margrave folded the letter and passed it to her and she realized that he wanted to hide the contents from the common folk and possibly, her?
Ingrid was never as subtle, "He is coming here? Do you think?"
"We will be prepared for anything. I wish you prepared to greet him."
"Of course," a healthy flush of pleasure and bliss rose to her sister's cheeks, the pleasant scenario and its opportunities making her all but blind to the fact it hurt the present onlooker – her own sister, "I must be made ready!"
Several maids hopped to her command and she rose up the staircase without a backwards glance at her elder sister as Astridr descended, shadowing her father, "Father!"
"Astridr."
"I am not well so I begged to be excused from the greeting vigil however if I may I would be more than pleased to carry your response back to the courier."
"That is kind but unnecessary and you are excused."
"Please, Father, I have been nothing to you of late allow me to be of even fleeting use to you in this."
Her father stepped into his study and gestured for her to follow him otherwise she never would have. The warm was dark lit by the faint glow of a lamplight that he lit anew so it cast a radiant glow over the room. The room was pleasantly warm as he sat down and wrote the letter, "You cannot help that you'd inherit the curse of your mother's genetics nevertheless I value you for your zealous desire to serve my interests well. Had there been any way around this I would have found it but I could not lose that type of alliance, not over you, having your sister promised in your stead was the only way we could continue to secure the marriage alliance with Lorraine."
"Father, no more please, I understand," she didn't say anything more nor did she want him to. Without further word he wrote a hasty response and held it out to her. She stepped forward to receive it noticing that he didn't even make eye contact as he gave her the response in dismissal. She carefully stepped back three steps before turning and leaving the room. The courier was waiting nervously in the hallway and she pressed several coins generously into his palm, "You are dismissed, your services are no longer required save to lead her," she gestured to Varukiri, "she will carry our message. Show her the way and she will follow you."
The courier bowed to her, "Very well, my lady."
"Good fortune to you"
"And you."
She smiled wryly at his well wishes knowing that his well wishes for her would fall on deaf ears, for the gods had none for her in this lifetime.
Their response came on swift wings literally. The courier never returned nevertheless a spectral sentinel descended from the heavens herself and called out to where he almost didn't dare to believe it, "Varukiri!"
He called out to her and she came, like a loyal wife: a strong and stalwart companion that was forever at his side in a moment. Varukiri had not changed she was still true and obedient as much as she had been the day he left her. She had been taken care of and well, she looked good, "So how is she doing? Hmmm? Well? I suppose instead of asking I should see for myself."
He hastily read the response and found that he would be accepted in readiness. He secured Varukiri upon his leather glove and with his other hand mounted his horse flicking the reins riding down to the estate. When he arrived there he was accepted wordlessly however everything was wrong. In the distance he saw a woman but it was the wrong woman, NOT his.
The woman who stood before him WAS the daughter of Margrave Gudleifr but the dark beauty before him was the younger daughter, the WRONG daughter. Ingrid's dark beauty clashed in comparison to Astridr's pale ethereal radiance, "Ingrid?"
"Yes, my lord."
"What is the meaning of this? Where is Astridr?"
"Astridr? My lord? You are not aware?"
"Is she well?"
"Well, no, in a matter of speaking. There has been a change, I thought you were aware that she cannot, she released you."
"To you?" he couldn't keep from sounding incredulous.
"Your father asked several months ago and she acquiesced, he was aware that you were still in need of a wife. I was willing…your father promised you to me."
Incensed rage went through him trying to claw out from beneath the surface of his skin as he tried hard to be civil, to keep from sneering. The idea of Ingrid as his bride was UTTERLY unsatisfactory in ways that he could not dare tell a lady of quality without seeming to be a downright brute. Where Astridr was kind and selfless, Ingrid was abrasive and selfish, altogether self serving and self absorbed. She had been that way at nine years of age and in ten years she had not changed, not a bit.
"Where is Astridr?"
"I don't know."
"Never mind then, I'll find her MYSELF!"
Menace coiled through his tone as he stalked towards the house however a fleeting glimpse of figures slipping through the moonlight, into the chapel made him stop. Both of them were small and slight, undeniably female, and for a moment when he gazed at the one in the lead he could have sworn he saw the moonlight reflect a perfect strand of pale silk framing a flawless cheek visible against the dark cloak overcastting her face.
Astridr…
Pale hands reached to close and secure the door before she stepped into the quiet chapel, for her daily prayers. Although she had given up on salvation of her body and soul her spiritual counselor would not allow her to forego the ordeal and in this case she was eager for anything that would remove her from the awkwardness of Lord Vytis' arrival and his approaching marriage to Ingrid. Mereit, the ever faithful and under (to her guilt) appreciated, accompanied her to watch over her. Of anything she had been remiss as a sibling and bitter towards Ingrid. If there was anything she should be praying for it would not be for herself but rather for Ingrid's happiness. That was a fitting prayer and one that would be more likely to be answered. The delicate female removed her hood and bent down her head as she came to her knees only to here the crash of the door. At first she thought it was the wind but soon saw that it was because of the male in the doorway.
"M-my L-lord, what are you doing here?"
"Astridr," his words were said with such emotional tension that within her body it ignited a complex reaction, she felt an instant surge of white heat going straight down to the cradle of her thighs as his eyes, to her outrage, possessively raked her undressing her with an appraising gaze, "Do you have a priest?"
"For your upcoming nuptials? O-of course, my lord."
"OUR nuptials, Astridr. I promised my troth to YOU. Make no mistake that before the sun is down you and I will be wed and come nightfall, you will share our marriage bed."
"Don't be foolish. You disgrace yourself in disobeying your parents. Your father will see you wed to Ingrid as he swore to her many months ago."
"My father is DEAD and a fool; after the likes of this he can roll in his grave for all I care, and my mother, my darling mother, she will be too late to know the difference. Prepare yourself, Astridr, find yourself a gown."
His father was a fool, acting as sole witness to this "blotched" betrothal to Ingrid. Now he was dead and the ONLY witness left was Margrave Gudleifr, a slip of a man who could be manipulated with absurd ease. No, HE would decide which of the two betrothals to honor and it WOULD BE the first!
At first she missed the likes of the emotion – it was so elusive, not even understood by the mortal woman herself.
Surprise…