I prepared a speech twice. But I will keep it simple. It's been 13 chapters and countless years of hiatus. You know me now. I'm trying my best. But sometimes it's just hard. This is not chapter 14. Chapter 14 rocks and was my best chapter so far (in my imagination). It was supposed to go deeper in the feelings of the knights. But this is plan B. I hope it works because I need to go forward with this story. I need to finish it in order to thank all the wonderful people that supported me since the beginning.
I'm still french. So I left a lot of mistakes. That's what we french do! Feel free to point them out. I will not be offended. I know it's hard to read a text littered with mistakes. So I will be thankful for all the support I can get. I am petrified. It's definitely hard to come back like a flower after so many months. But it's for Timeless rose and Regin... All the people who just believed in this story...
-14-
Blood Moon and children tales
The moon, blood red with a murderous bright glare in its center, painted the dark gray entanglement of clouds scarlet. White gossamer flakes floated in the air, covering his dark curls, leaving a chilly trail down his neck. Lancelot was unmoved and unaffected. He sat on the edge of the battlements. The void beneath his feet... The immensity of the snow field… The surrounding darkness… It managed to take his breath way. He held a knee close to his heart and watched the sun rise in the valley. He longed to be home. Before losing what made him human in the first place, Lancelot wanted to go home.
Was he cold? Arthur wondered as he stared from afar at the silhouette of his second in command perched on the fortifications. He leaned on the balcony of his chamber, his head filled with unnecessary thoughts, his heart full of excessive worries. What was he to do?
What was one man to do on a Blood Moon?
When he finished slicing the apple, Tristan took the time to look at it closely. He was searching…
For what?
He did not know yet. This apple, cherry red with a touch of yellow, like the dozen he had peeled before her, like the dozen currently aligned on the table before him, this very apple, had no flaw. It was unlike anything he'd seen before. He couldn't see any fault to this apple, nor its sisters. Still, he didn't have the resolve to eat it.
Duncan gently stroked each black strands of hair. He disentangled Scourge's black mane carefully. Uncharacteristically silent, the stallion did not protest his attention at first. But Scourge being Scourge, the horse neighed conspicuously. His lean muscles tense, his snout high, the Prince of Horses eyed Duncan suspiciously, his nostrils flaring wide. After a year of servitude, carrying the prince Hun, this very horse craved freedom with the same intensity than before. The soothing movements of Duncan's hand stopped as he realized something…
It was something he was not ready to face.
Something in his heart…
He'd known him less than a year. He'd barely carried this burden for a year. This sick feeling he was harboring for Scourge's master. How ironic! When realization dawned on him, his legs gave way. He was on his knees, his frame shaking, his face streaked with unwanted tears. How dare he fall for a boy! How dare he fall for that egotistical bastard no less! He was craving freedom as much as Scourge. Freedom from this overwhelming feeling… He wanted to return to his previous state. He wanted to not care at all. Damn him! Damn them!
Scourge stared at the knight with something akin to disgust… or contempt… Both… He neighed again, mockingly, this time, his snout going back and forth. Humans! Where was that dumb smelly Hun when you need him? He pushed Duncan playfully on his shoulder before heaving a sigh. Slowly, Scourge went down on his knees in the hay and motioned, in his own language, the miserable human to resume his brushing. Somehow the stallion knew that now was not the time to be picky in the choice of his groom. Duncan leaned on him with a sigh.
Strangely, Scourge allowed him.
Clenching his hand tight in the dark, Amery watched over the Prince Hun's shoulder. He'd just fell asleep after hours of shaking and tossing. She prayed all the Gods she knew that when he wake up his head would be clearer. She prayed all the Gods she knew that this was not Tanjin's last night on Earth. She prayed all the Gods she knew even if she didn't really believe in them. She prayed all the Gods she knew because she had nothing else.
Galahad stood in front of the iron doors of the jailhouse. Officially, he was waiting for Amery making sure she would go back to her room safely. He could swear under oath he did not care in the slightest about Tanjin's fate. He could pledge that he wanted to see the son of the Devil dead as much as the Average Roman. But his own lies felt uneasy coating his tongue. It was a brilliant devious mess. Probably, it was Tanjin's plan to torture him all along. He shook his head. If only he had been stronger, strong enough to crush Sextus and his men… If only he hadn't been that lost little boy… If only he'd been strong enough to protect her…
Perched on the edge of the bed, Gawain watched Aggravain stir on the mattress. Between Aggravain's snores and the gloomy sound of the wind, closing his eyes and finding peace was impossible. Careful, he got out of bed and left the room. A cold draft nibbled it's down the back of his neck as he made his way to the armory room. He grabbed a torch and pushed the door carefully. Blaez's bronze mace was shimmering on a wooden casket. Lancelot's swords were hung on the wall. Underneath Arthur's favorite tapestry, lying on a table, he found the leather scabbard of Tanjin's mighty sword. He unsheathed the sword knowing Tanjin and his territorial ways would have ripped him to shred for his audacity. He half expected the weapon to be stained and grimy just like the Hun's face most of the time. But instead the blade shone with a unique spark. It was the Prince Hun's most treasured possession after all. He put the sword back on the table with care and turned to his own battle-axe sitting against a wall. The blade was also brazenly clean but the handle displayed some blood crusts.
Blood was incredibly difficult to clean after a battle.
It was extremely difficult to clean after a murder too.
When it wasn't much of a battle…
Much of a fight…
Limbs and gore flying everywhere…
Splattering on leafless trees…
Wasting the immaculate ground…
Flesh immediately rotting away frozen by the chill…
Honor? What was it again? What would become of him now?
Going home.
How?
Arthur sighed staring at the fading moon.
What was it again that he ought to do in those circumstances? What was he to do?
She gasped. The pressure she felt was building, crawling inside of her, warring with a heart. She hissed. Incandescent sparks of fire rose toward the roof of the chimney. He stared intently in her eyes. Her barely disguised lust was buried under a deep sea of turquoise blue. He shifted on top of her and let his left hand run up the outside of her right thigh. As his hand traveled up, the flimsy fabric of her gown followed. Her lips were only encouraging never discouraging. Her back arched, she offered a neck lasciviously. Small, she was. But she was in no way innocent. Her tiny legs could barely envelop his frame. Salva had not changed and not grown an inch since their wedding four years ago. She had been fifteen back then, her body young and nubile. He tilted his head and leaned towards her slowly. Her breath quickened as his lips came closer until they touched hers. Against his mouth, she moaned. At that moment, all thoughts of anything other than her left his mind. He pushed her gown up further and crawled between her legs.
His lips found her neck. Her eyes fell shut as the overwhelming sensation passed through her. A breathy moan escaped her lips as he moved to the hollow of her throat. The warrior in him wanted to conquer quick and fast. He wanted her submission. He wanted her to give in. Spreading her legs, that's exactly what she did. She yielded under him, her body boneless under his rough caress. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of her throat then made a trail to her chin.
He moved quickly over her unable to take much more than this. A moan of regret escaped her as he broke their kiss. He groaned inwardly. This pleasure was not everlasting. It was fleeting and unstable. They both took it for what it was. He pushed a palm against the mouth of his beloved silencing her cries. She did the same for him when he grabbed the sensation violently, or when the sensation grabbed him, not wanting to let it escape, his pleasure shaking them both. A drop of sweat slid down his nose and fell on her beautiful face. She smiled.
"I never grow tired of the way you wake me up before the sunrise." Tiberius finally said after a long pause.
Absentmindedly, the brunet stroked his hair. Somehow, it was yet too much sensation for him and he growled low, biting playfully her neck, his erection revived. Rolling on his back, he shifted next to her on the bed. Despite the cold outside, their room was warm and dry. The fur over them was soft and wet from their ardent lovemaking.
"Or the way, I never let you sleep." She replied coyly.
"That too… What were we discussing earlier, my love?"
Rolling on her belly, she arched a back playfully, her face almost candid.
"I was telling you a bedtime story…"
"True… With Olivia Solitia as the main character…"
Her smooth voice had barely a hint of a Latin accent. His brown eyes stared at her in wonder. He loved when she told him stories about the old country.
Because Tiberius was born in Britannia, just like Arthur he never set foot once in Rome. His father was a high commander in the army of Caesar and his mother, the great-grand daughter of the old consul.) The furthest he had gone from the Island was a trip to Nemausus[1] in Gaul four summers ago. Artorius and he were still training under Pelagius' supervision when they stayed at Salva's father, the great Historian Peleus Cicero. As soon as he laid eyes on the young Salva he knew he was going to stray from the principles taught by his mentor. Salva was just too beautiful to stay untouched and innocent. It was at that time that they had caught on the habit of making love just before sunrise… She would tell him stories too... Another habit that they lingered afterwards… Sometimes it felt like she invented those stories just for him. But sometimes, her luscious lips were smeared with veil of truth and he learned a lot through her. After all, Salva was the daughter of one of the greatest Historian that lived through this era.
"Olivia Solitia… That was her name. A name that would be remembered in History..."
Tiberius kissed her left temple. She smiled.
"She was the daughter of Prima General Solitius, a distant relative of the Pope, a cousin to the emperor. When I was little, my parents would speak of her and her family in hushed tone. How beautiful she was! How mean and evil she was! How much of a traitor she became! She could even fly in some of those stories they shared with a bottle of wine. In one instance, travelling through space and time, Olivia appeared to the Pope in a dream and threatened him into giving up half of the Western roman provinces. She could fly. Her husband was said to be able to command to wolves. He was accused of having eaten two of his own sons. It amused my father greatly that people were so gullible and always so prompt as to disguise and adorn the ugliest of truths. "
" The truth which was…"
"Prima General Solitius was deemed by many as the "worst of mankind". He was a perverted spirit. And so was his bloodline…"
Tiberius smiled faintly. He was mesmerized by her beautiful blue eyes.
"This tale I'm about to recount is the most accurate story of how Olivia, daughter of Solitius betrayed Rome and became Queen on a whim."
"And how do you…"
"You really don't need to know this! Be nice, Tiberius. You are worse than our children! Listen… It all started when a girl named Olivia was born in the Tuscan's domain of the Solitius family. She was the fourth daughter of a man that hadn't any love or use left for them. Her mother died early on from sickness. She grew up fast among aristocrats and nobles without the love or care of any of her parents. Liquid green eyes, peach moist and soft lips, black soft tresses reaching down a backside, a curvaceous and graceful body adored by artists… As soon as she reached that age, she was known as the most tempting young maiden of all the empire. Her beauty was complimented in songs and poems as much as her rotten personality was vilified…"
"Poor thing!"
"With such attributes, a destiny of Misfortune was clearly awaiting her… Her father was desperate to marry her to an influent party. Rumor had it Solitius had tried to sell her virtue to the highest bidder and the emperor himself made a request… He wanted Solitius to send his youngest daughter to the infamous King of the Huns as a gift. Greedy Solitius barely thought about this request a fortnight before condemning the poor child to her death. "
Tiberius frowned.
"She almost didn't survive the journey to the Hun capital… But Olivia was born with a strong desire to live…The strongest of instinct…"
There was a song that used to say she was mad, as if Madness was a quantifiable trait, as if madness was something easily discernable in the chaos of someone's mind. She laughed. Harsh pearls of laughter beaded together resounding against nothing. She laughed hard. The wind managed to blow against the leather wall of the tent they kept her in. Sure, she could not call herself sane either. She was about to serve as a lowly mistress for a barbarian monster. Sanity was the last thing on her mind.
The nerve of that man who call himself her father to sell her like that to a bunch of barbarians! She was supposed to marry and birth the elite of Rome! She was a roman of High rank! A blood was sanctified as the cousin to the Emperor! She would be none of that now! Everything she was would be gone. She was about to meet Death in person.
As a child, she learned the art of medicine from their African slave. Her skills were such that her father's political career would probably have gone nowhere without her. She was such an obedient girl. She helped him eliminate his enemies when he had requested her to do so. She was ten years old when she made her first lethal decoction. Was that all the thanks she deserved? The idea that she became a disposable tool in his eyes after all these years made her feel nauseous. She was not crazy. She was enraged… Filled with venom… Out of her mind with grief… The acid taste of his betrayal lingered on her tongue…Wrath…Unaltered Wrath...
Her body shook anxiously as she waited for her fate. Her wrists and ankles shackled together to the tent posts, courtesy of a captor. She tried to escape four times and every time she failed. Yesterday, they decided to tie as to the post. This morning they beat her because she refused to eat. Her face and her arms were bruised.
She was determined to find a way out of this. Tears streaked… Eyes blurry… She tried hard to come up with a new plan. Fighting to stay awake, she heard voices outside.
"The princess is sleeping, my lord." Tallulah, her idiotic servant from home said.
Tallulah was a simpleton. Why her father ever bothered sending her in the first place she would never know? How this stupid slave could answer so calmly when her mistress was tied to a column like a cheap sacrifice she dared not ask! It was so beyond her.
She screamed. She did not scream for help. She did not scream for someone to save. She simply screamed.
"The soldiers tied her."
"Why?"
There was a shuffle outside as if Tallulah was pushed to the side. Olivia grinned at that. At least, someone had a sense.
"Bring us some food. We will dine here!"
She did not recognize that voice at all. Polite and sophisticated, the man spoke latin fluently. Who in the name of god? She froze. Surely, this man was jesting! He couldn't think that she will share a meal with a foe. She was not yet that desperate. She turned her back to the door in a rustling of chains. She could not bear looking at his ugly face. She could not lower herself to the barbarian practice… She could not suffer the company of men, any men for that matter.
Flapping the door of fur and tanned leather aside, the son of Attila entered the tent. It was not the first time his father felt the need to give him a nearly impossible task but this one was seriously starting to grate on his nerve.
It was his afternoon conversation with the Greek that started it all. Keda moved from his position in the entry of his tent. He put down cautiously the saddle he was holding. He undid his belt and set his scabbard aside on a wooden chest.
"What did she do, this time?" He asked, emphasizing on the last words.
A day had not passed without a report of disobedience. He was too busy leading the men across Goth's territories to care. Why was he always given those ungrateful missions while Digg rested lazily in Karaganda? While Rugha and Warwulf helped the King and his army strengthen the Hun Empire in Dalmatia? Keda sat on the edge of a cot. Well, he knew why. For Digg, the answer was in the question. He was lazy, capricious, dumb and a disgrace in general. For Rugha, that weasel would stop at nothing to enter in Attila's good graces. A brunet with the most graceful hips kneeled before him with a silver bowl of water. He sighed. Dacia moved in a rustling of gold strings tied to her waist. Dipping his hands in the water, he carefully erased the grime testament of a day of horse riding. He leaned and Dacia immediately rushed to kiss him fervently. He tentatively brushed his lips on hers before putting her finger on her lips. He nodded for Akakios to continue. The old man scratched his head momentarily disturbed by the sight of the snuggling young couple.
"She is throwing away all the food. She is not eating anything and I fear she will not make it home much to the displeasure of your father."
"She is your responsibility." Keda sighed. "Is one woman too much for you to handle, old man?"
While saying that, his hands roamed Dacia's almost naked body at ease. Akakios looked away.
"I may not have his lordship's persuasion on the matter."
Keda snorted at this. What a convenient answer!
" In fact, I made quite a mistake my lord in leaving her in the care of the guards. She tried to escape again and they tied. It seemed now that she refused to feed."
Keda' s frown increased.
"It was not my doing. I tried to talk to her my lord. Explain to her the ways of the Mighty Huns." He finally said as the favorite son of Attila looked at him wistfully. "I swear to Apollo, I tried talking some sense in that woman but she slapped me and tried to bite me. I left her yesterday in the hands of her guardians as she tried to break free again and that was what happened."
Keda snickered even louder. His brown eyes twinkled with mischief.
"She bit you?"
"With the ferocity of an enraged dog..."
"That is one Roman gift."
"I don't think it's a gift His Majesty will appreciate."
Keda slightly pushed Dacia away. He sobered up quickly.
"Whether or not my father will break the neck of the Snake upon receiving it, is irrelevant to the fact that the Snake has to arrive in Karaganda in due times."
"I know my Lord. But they certainly wanted to make our life miserable by doing so. I am sure your father will not even look twice at her..."He almost growled, his hands clenching in exasperation.
"Sending a roman of high birth for my father's festival was quite suspicious for me too. I don't think it is a way to buy peace. They probably want to buy some time before our next campaign. I will have a word with her. My father deserved to have a suited gift for his birthday. We don't want the poor girl to hurt herself by not eating. Like his Highness used' to say, nothing is unconquerable. l'm sure we will find an understanding ... of sorts ... What is the name of the princess, Akakios?"
Dacia climbed over the bed behind him and leaned to shower his shoulder blade with kisses. Keda smiled wolfishly. A unique feature he shared with his illustrious father.
"Olivia..."
"What a strange name!"
"But with all due respects, my Lord, l'm afraid she is too stubborn to listen to you. She kept rambling about the fact that she will answer to no master."
"No obstacle is insurmountable."
"I recognized my Lord's magnanimity and passionate temper inherited from His Majesty."
"Unlikely. I do not know wrath like my father. If she does not make it he will not spare me a lecture. You do know I hate those, right?"
"My lord could not be more like the King if he tried."
Bending over, Akakios humbly presented him his respect.
"I trust my Lord…"
"If I was taught anything correctly by that pompous and devious father of mine was that women are born stubborn creatures. She is a woman, Akakios, therefore born to be stubborn. Look at this wild flower, here," He said caressing his lover's ankles lightly, making her slide on her back. "Everybody used to say she was mute. Although, it is true that her tongue was cut out in her early age, we can communicate easily. We found a common language long ago. Hopefully, Akakios, you taught me everything I needed to know about roman lore."
Dacia smiled widely upon hearing her name and kissed the prince's neck tenderly. His amber gaze turned to Akakios, awaiting his orders.
"Wait for me outside, I will talk to her. I will rest for now. Make sure she stays alive and keep the guards at a distance."
His eyes were filled with lust as he glanced over Dacia's partially naked form. As soon as Akakios left the tent, he buried his head in the crook of his lover's neck.
Keda stood his ground. The tent was unkempt and messy as if ravaged by a storm. Rag clothes were everywhere. Raisin grapes were spilled on the ground near an incredible amount of food attacked by flies. There was a smelly puddle on the ground where she had thrown her cup of wine. He crouched slightly to pick up one white pearl, remnants of what had once been a necklace. Without turning, the girl answered his unspoken question.
"My father gave it to me when I was thirteen years old. I can no longer wear it with pride. "
He frowned. Her voice was not nearly as mature as he expected it to be. She sounded young, fragile and innocent. How old was she? She looked very young. Were the Romans perverted enough to have send a child to his father?
Sensing her intruder's eyes on her, Olivia turned around warily. His eyes narrowed at the unlikely sight on the bed. The thin piece of linen she wore did not fully succeed in covering her breasts. The fabric was almost transparent in the ray of light. Maybe she was not a child. But she did not to seem much like a woman either.
He walked to her and reached carefully for her face. He caressed her features with his fingers roughly and she jerked away from him, averting her eyes without looking down.
"How old are you?"
"Funny how her boy ask me my age…"
"You do not seem afraid."
Green eyes stared him down. She had spirit.
"Should I be, Hun?"
He took a step back carefully.
"You do not know who I am." He said, still trying to take her wild beauty in.
"I do not care who you are nor do I care for the identity of your master."
He frowned again.
"I do not answer to any master but my Father."
Green eyes grew wide in recognition.
"You… are… his son… His child."
"Do not insult me, Roman. I am way more than a child."
She shrugged daringly. Her feet touched the floor, in a rustling of chains.
"Very well. Which number are you? They say the Evil king of the Hun has one hundred spawns. So which one are you?
His lips tugged in her wolfish smile. He crouched on the floor. She leaned back a little more afraid than she would let on.
" Try a guess?"
"You cannot be the oldest."
"No I am not."
"I only know of Diggizikh and Rugha of the Huns by name."
"That is not nearly enough knowledge, little girl. Ignorance may get you killed."
It was her turn to narrow her eyes questioningly. He smiled again touching her ankles. He felt her shivering beneath his touch. She felt fear at last. Good.
"I am the tenth. I am Keda, Son of Attila, Prince of the Wolf Land above the Sky, Third general of the Army of Attila."
Her eyes traveled him as if lost. A General? A Prince? Attila's Son ? Red suffused her cheeks. She felt warm and sweaty. She felt generally humiliated in front of him. He looks so different than the men she had seen before. But yet at the same time, he was strangely familiar to her. He was tall, not much older than her, way younger than the greek one, a thousand times more handsome too. He could not be associated with any tales she heard about the almighty Huns warriors, those who eat children and rape women for a living. His skin was made of bronze and his eyes were of a rich amber color. He was well-built with lean smooth features. His hair... was untamed at the most like they never saw a comb. They were tangled with brownish locks gathered in one tail that reached his back.
"Your looks are deceiving too…" She muttered.
"So I've been told…"
She tried to move again and found herself unable too.
"Did they hurt you? He asked again. "Did my men do this to you?"
"I did most of it myself." She whispered. "I tried to escape."
She stared at him confused. What game was he playing with her?
"Will you recognize them if you see them?"
She tilted her head on the side. She nodded once. She did not trust herself to sound dignified at that moment because he still had a firm hand on her ankles. All manners of sensations coursed through a body from that point, she could barely think.
He got up again and she watched him depart. He gathered the guardians in charge of her around the tent. He returned minutes later with two men she recognized as her jailors. One of them was significantly taller than the prince. He gave them some instructions in that savage language of his and the men approached the bed. She backed away like an animal trapped. But instead of harming her again as she was sure they would, they kneeled to free her of all manacles. She looked at them warily massaging her sore wrists. One of them even handed her a new dress. The soldier stared at Keda, waiting. They were no lust in their deep-seated eyes, only fear.
"Who was the one who harm you?" Keda asked again. "Are both of them guilty?"
Both soldiers shook their heads frantically in front of the young girl. Olivia's eyes fell on one of the soldier, and she remembered clearly the way he had grasped her hair and almost strangled her to tie her down. The memory almost sent her reeling in fear. She shook her head nervously. There were traces of the child she thought she left behind years ago. She was scared for good reasons.
"They were many. I did not really remember their faces."
His hands pushed a strand of black hair away from a face. She flinched at his touch.
"You have nothing to fear anymore. No harm will befall on you. You're the king's..." He seems to search for the perfect latin word. "...guest. They should have treated you as such. Be quick. Decide. Which one should die? "
Green eyes grew wide.
"Should I killed them both, Lady Olivia?"
She stayed silently clutching the piece of clothes over her body for protection. This boy… No, this man in front of her… This man was manipulating her. He was… Were all the Huns this smart?
She lifted her eyes defiantly. Golden eyes stared right at her with amusement. Were they not supposed to be dumb brutes? Were they not supposed to be mere savages?
"Him."
She pointed in the direction at the tallest merely by pure coincidence. She willed her own hand to not shiver in front of him.
Balas immediately lunged to grab her.
"Lying whore! You liar! "
Swift as the wind, Keda's sword was under his throat before he moved more than an inch. Balas growled. This couldn't be happening to him!
"Do you believe the Roman, Lord ? She had it coming! That bitch tried to escape!"
"Outside. Now." Keda simply said. "Join us when you are ready, Princess."
When she was alone, she tried to contemplate her options. If she was to run again, it would probably mean her death. That was the message he was clearly sending. The chill she felt when he touched her ankle. It almost rendered her speechless in front of him. She was not to try to outsmart him because he will not hesitate to kill her like he will not hesitate punishing his fellow soldiers. She was intrigued. He tried to manipulate her like she was a mere child. She smiled, hands shivering. They were two children playing war games. She was an incredible player too. She wanted to survive. Survival was all that matters.
Dressed in green, she went out in the sun for the first time since the beginning of her journey. She stood, hands covering her eyes. She tried to accommodate the glaring sun. A summer breeze played with her dark hair. She walked where the young lord had gathered a huge crowd of servants and soldiers. She stumbled and was caught by the old man, the Greek she had chased earlier. He had a firm grip on her shoulder to help her steady herself. Upset, she dismissed him with her glare and poor Akakios raised his eyes to the sky.
"Lord Keda, surely you will not take that Roman's word over ours! She tried to escape four times. What were we supposed to do? Cuddle her! She only had what she deserved!"
The eyes of the Prince fell on her. She struggled to keep her composure and mustered every bit of courage she had. She will not yield. He turned to the soldiers.
"On your knees."
Balas opened his mouth dumbfounded. He bent over humbly.
"My lord cannot ask me such a thing."
Olivia stood next to him. The crowd grew silent. Keda simply frowned.
"Are you questioning me?"
"No… No, my Lord ! But… Kneeling… Prince Keda…Have mercy."
"Mercy. What is that? Are you not a Hun?"
Kneeling was an act of ultimate submission in Hun Society. There was no backing down. No way to regain the esteem that would be lost. It was the most degrading way to die. If he didn't die now, he would die later of shame and dishonor. He would not survive after having put one knee on the floor.
"I said: on your knees."
His companion Hormidac was trying desperately to disappear in the background.
"You too." Keda said slowly.
The crowd grew silent. The deafening sound of the wind could be heard in the taiga.
"Keda… Son of Attila !" They pleaded.
Shimmering under the sun, his pointy scimitar caressed Hormidac's heart.
"Do not call for my Father so carelessly. If you do not compel I will cut your legs until you find yourself in the desirable position. That is my will. Kneel."
Both men fell to their knees. The crowd heaved a sigh.
"My lord, perhaps the punishment is worse than the crime." Akakios pointed out nervously.
"Do not question my logic unless you want to join them." He stated calmly.
Ruthless. Her eyes widened at his ruthlessness. Akakios stepped aside and decided to not say anything else.
"A Hun's life is sacred in the eyes of another Hun. All your lives are consecrated in my eyes because we share the strongest of blood. Guiding all of you through eternal life, that is the only desire of the King. The survival and the prosperity of the clan prevailed. No Hun should interfere or place his selfish and weak desires above those of the Clan. We are at war. But victory is already ours. The Romans fear us even when they do not know us…They are aware of their own loss."
The soldiers nodded, their spear hitting the ground. She flinched unwillingly at the vibration. Olivia surveyed the field for the first time. Was that his army? Was that Attila's Army? They were gathered in numbers. She couldn't imagine any Roman army having a chance against them. She did not stand a chance. Keda purposefully turned to address those on his left side. Those 3 000 men marching with him were barely a small portion of his father's army.
"This woman, here, is the cousin of the emperor Theodosius. She is a war prize. She was sent as a gift to my father, Attila, the emperor of the Huns. She is his guest. You will all do as the lady order and treat her with all the deference due to her ranks. Balas and Hormidac had hurt her in ways my father would find intolerable and they shall pay for all the harm fallen on her as a direct offence to my father's rule. Lady Olivia, it seemed natural that you will be the one to choose their fate."
Olivia gasped in astonishment but she instantly recovered from years of practices. Men are born and men died, she sing-sang mentally. She tried to remember why she was there in the first place and as the familiar anger work its way into her heart she stepped forward to the surprise of the crowd. She will not be weak. She will survive this. She turned to Akakios.
"You. Translate my words faithfully. You, are you regretting your actions? Do you feel remorse, soldier? I will be merciful if you admit the errors of your ways."
Akakios did as he was told. There was no word for Mercy in Hun as it was considered more degrading than a disease. As such Balas spat on the ground. Mercy again ! He had no more room for it.
"Mercy is a trait uniquely despised among the Mighty Huns." Keda explained, his lips twitching.
"Is that so?"
"Maybe you do not wish for their death. Any punishment you see fit…then."
The crowd snorted with disappointment. Bloodbaths were always a welcome distraction.
"They will die."
The crowd gasped again.
"Very well…" Keda unsheathed his sword and prepared himself to finish those two quickly thinking they'd probably suffer enough.
"Lend me your sword, Son of Attila."
Akakios translated. Golden eyes narrowed suspiciously. She gave him a pointed look befitting of a queen.
"As Mercy is not the way of the Mighty Hun, I should act accordingly, my lord. I humbly ask you to lend me your sword."
He turned around in direction of Akakios. The crowd approved the sentence and cheered. Slowly he placed the sword in her hand. It was way too heavy for her. So she struggled to lift it above her head. She put the edge of the blade on Balas' head. Balas bared his teeth menacingly she lifted the sword in the air and with an anguished cry severed his head from his jerking body, jets of blood flying in the air, spraying her dress with crimson. Keda raised one eyebrow surprised. He didn't expect her to back her words so effectively. She pushed him away from her next target. With both hands, she pushed the scimitar vertically in his neck the Roman's way and severed Hormidac's life in turn. The crowd cheered again.
Akakios looked at his master worriedly. Keda was frozen to the ground.
"I will learn the lore and traditions of the Mighty Huns if you're so nice as to personally teach me, my Lord." She said her hands bloody. "As an emissary from my country, I truly don't want to disappoint the King."
Keda had never witnessed such a thing. He'd half expected her to back away from a first statement. He expected her to yield. But the Roman did not. Green eyes stared at him with malice. They were two children. They were both great with war game.
He knew for a fact that Attila will love that woman and feast on her soul. He knew this for a fact because he knew that he was already inclined to.
She let down the bloodied sword and gave it past to the prince. Pushing past him, she walked back toward her tent. He stopped her.
"Lady Olivia," He said calmly, his eyes stern. "I want to make things clear between us. If you want to escape, I advise you to think wisely. As I already said you are my father's guest and no one is allowed to refuse his hospitality. Should you deceived me or my father one day, I will not hesitate to kill you… crush you with my bare hands until your very existence is wiped from the memory of your people." A smile crept on his handsome face. "Now if you would be kind enough to share a modest meal with me princess. I will be delighted with the company."
She watched her bloody hands, processing what had just happened, all he had told her.
Her options were beginning to grow thin. She handed him her shaky left hand that he graciously took for a light kiss. Olivia was born Hun that day.
"Olivia was full of resources… She was cruel and unafraid. What a strange girl!"
"Her father sent her to destroy the Huns by taking the head of its wolf. She embraced their culture and became a traitor instead."
"The way you told this story I'm not really sure she was wrong to do so? How can a father sent his child into this cruel and ruthless world? They know no mercy. Did he really buy her loyalty? Could he really trust her?"
"You have to keep in mind, Tiberius, that loyalty has many faces."
"What happened to that prince?"
"The sun is up."
He turned his head.
"But this is not the end of the story…Obviously… The Prince seems to like her. I heard about him. He took the Head of Claudius Maximus in Germany. He was an extremely competent leader and an incredible warrior. His death was rumored to have send Attila on a path of destruction. So, what happened when Olivia married the King? "
"You're so fond of gossip. It's hilarious."
"You have a way to tell story. I find it dangerously addictive, my love. "
"Very well… Rumored that Attila was a god was not exaggerated. Like a God, he was very fond of playing mischiefs to his entourage… Omniscient, in his own way, he ruled with his head more than with his heart. Though, he made exceptions. Keda was such exception. He was the son of his fourth wife, a Macedonian Priestess of the ancient cult, he found rolling on the shore of the Black Sea. She was pretty enough but what really caught his gaze were her golden eyes… She was said to have a heart just as golden. She reminded him of his first wife. He was deeply in love with her. She was deeply attached to him and gave him a son and her girl: Keda and … I think the girl…was… Hum… Let me think! Well, Kudjila, the beautiful Hun princess! The people loved the mother as she always made sure the clan never lack of food despite the numerous campaigns of her husband. She died from a mysterious ailment when her children were still young. But it was said that Attila raised Keda and his sister with care and love allowing the young prince and his sister to stay in the royal chamber, a rare privilege he'd bestowed on none of his other children. It was only fitting that the son he loved the most… would be the one to disappoint him."
"Attila, they always pay their tribute. The romans are loyal to us. As loyal as they can be with whom they considered inferior." Onegesius said between two sips of his wine. "What was the name of your last gift from them? It was Keda who brought the child back from Rhaetia?"
Attila glanced in his direction, mirth in his eyes. He raised his mug of wine to his lips and swallowed the content in one sip. The crowd of men roared with laughter.
"I love these roman traditions. How they can sell their own daughters to achieve their purposes! We should probably take it as an example." Rugha commented seriously thinking about the prospects. He had numerous sisters and they would serve the clan well, especially the beautiful Kudjila. Attila rolled his eyes to the heavens comically. The men broke out into laughter. Only one stayed silent, it was Keda. The prince had retired against the wall next to Attila's throne, carving woods with his knife. Attila studied his strange demeanor curiously. Since he came back with the girl, Keda had been more withdrawn and quiet than usual. He pondered what had happened to provoke such a change within his boy.
"Honestly, father, I don't think we could take on the entire roman army." Warwulf said. Unlike what his name could make people presumed Warwulf was not a warlike wolf. He was a burly man, a good-enough fighter but unfortunately he was also terribly coward. The fifth son sat next to Rugha, born a year later. Ellack, the first, sat on Attila's left. Diggizick, the second, sat next to his brother. Ernak the third was sickly so he never attended the council. The fourth died in battle. Seven and Eight died young from fever.
Attila sighed. He stared at Keda. What happened to his favorite wolf?
"We should entertain our alliances instead of breaking them. The Romans acknowledged your kingship years ago. They offered you one of their princesses as a gage of their consideration and loyalty." Onegesius intervened.
Onegesius was half roman raised in the capital. It made him partially biased but not disloyal. They met when Attila was a hostage there. Attila had a certain amount of trust in his judgment. That is why he said nothing. He always took every opinion in consideration before making his own decisions...Decisions which more often than not were already made long before the council.
"We must be prepared for a war. The romans are not reliable. They blindfold our eyes with their shining gifts. They buy themselves time. They are searching for a way to evict us safely. We should attack them first." Chen-zicgk said with all the seriousness his sharp voice and his expressionless face could convey.
Inwardly, Attila agreed completely with Chen-zicgk on that point but guard himself from saying anything. It was a good way to entertain his men's imaginations. A Hun's perception is reality for him. If they thought that they were helping him rule his country, he would let them. If they thought what they say would influenced him in one way or another it was only an encouraging sign of the interest they take in their king. Allowing them to think he couldn't make a decision without them was a wise manner of preventing any political attacks. Never show your true strength when your enemy had still to show himself in broad daylight. He had told them years ago at the beginning of his reign, every Hun is responsible for shaping his life circumstances and experiences into success. No other Hun, and certainly no Roman, can do for a Hun what he neglects to do for himself. And the Great Council was certainly a good exercise to put that statement into practice.
"Yes, we should ride over them and rid the earth of these bastards!" Diggizzikh shouted vehemently and he was echoed by a few men. He was still inebriated from last night's celebration.
Digg was a great warrior but Attila would be damned if he ever took his voice in consideration. Great warrior is not enough to make a great king ! Fortunately, the king himself knew that.
"They are our main source of sustainment that would be unwise to attack them now." Rugha said again. At last, he was hoping to stir a positive reaction out of Attila. But his father's gaze remained trained on the favorite. He cursed mentally when Attila made no sign that he had actually listen to him.
"Rugha, you always reason in term of money!" Munkcheng pointed out, slightly annoyed.
Munkcheng was the smallest Hun chieftains that walked this earth and one of the oldest too. He was three feet tall perhaps, with little limbs that could still raise a sword like no one. His deep-seated grey eyes reminded people of his lineage with the khan's family. He was a cousin to Attila's father. His perfectly white hair that reached his back, his well- grown beard, and his wrinkled face were the unneeded proof of his old age.
"Well, yes, money could buy us this world!" Rugha retorted with certainty and his usual arrogance.
"I will pray that the gods had not heard you, young fool !" Munkcheng retorted back sternly.
"You will learn with time that money can't buy every victory, young one!" Daena, the Sarmatian added, agreeing with Munkcheng. It was a general fact among the court that Rugha's beliefs and strategy often could be summed up by the sentence "who do we have to pay?"
"Rugha will never learn. He is too obstinate for that. " Stated old Palomides, the Scythian.
Rugha glared in the direction of the sarmatian and the scythian. He hated being patronized by them. These men were forgetting their places. Attila was the King and it was his father, they were foreigner, just good enough to follow.
"We could buy a few of these roman provinces with the money their emperor gave us! Their leaders are easily corruptible... If we…" He suggested again raising a new debate among the crowd. The opinions were quite divided on the subject.
"Rugha, it is not one small province we need!" Keda said at last.
Rugha stared at his younger brother angrily. How dare he interrupt?
Nonetheless, Keda's intervention had plunged the horde in silence. All eyes turned in his direction, waiting for him to elaborate on the subject.
"Again, you talk without a care, little brother." Rugha said.
"And you talk as if you have any understanding of what the King wants."
Rugha's lips twitched in an ugly grin.
"You… you do ?"
Attila said nothing as he watched them battle for his affection.
"Explain yourself, son!" Daena obliged and they all nodded in encouragement.
Tawny eyes gazed over the horde and settled on Rugha coldly.
"Who said we wanted one small province when we could have much more? I believe the question is not what the Romans want from us? It is what we actually want for ourselves that should matter to us, Huns."
Behind him, Attila grinned more than pleased with his son's logic, the true logic of her leader.
"...If all we want for ourselves is to live among riches for the rest of our time on this earth, I would say conserving the roman as allies should be our next course of action. They are successful traders and amazing builders. Though, we should be prepared that they turn on us sooner or later, because the romans are well-known for their greed over treasures. On the other hand, if what we want is for the Huns to be remembered among history...If we want fame and glory for our people...If we want to gain the respect of the other nations...Buying some ephemeral peace with the Romans will never accomplished that. It would only delay the inevitable confrontation. I believed we are Huns not Romans. Why should we use their methods, Rugha?"
Rugha swallowed hard when Attila nodded.
"Onegesius said one good thing. In their eyes, we're still uncivilized barbarians. They believe us pagan because we don't share the same perception of their god. They believe us weak and unorganized. We should take advantage of that!"
"Keda, their gifts are only proof..." began Onegesius again.
"Their gifts don't prove anything! They are..." Keda cut him out sharply before he was himself interrupted.
"Poisoned."
A feminine voice with a strong foreign accent finished for him. The gathering of men gasped at the interruption and they all turn to see the woman who dared voice her opinion. She stepped forward in the room.
She bowed in front of the King and Attila lifted an eyebrow questioningly. The roman has even more courage that he had previously given her credit for. He did not spend much time with her since her arrival as two days ago one of his concubine delivered his twin sons Bleda and Batur in due time for his festival and he was busy celebrating the good news with his fifth wife who believed herself pregnant. So in truth, he'd barely had time to spare the girl a glance. He noticed she was really young, younger than even Rugha, maybe younger than Kublan... He cursed the Romans because he did not like little girls. They were inexperienced, whiny, and capricious.
But as he studied her closely, he noticed that she was surrounded by this strange dark aura that made her appear much more grown than she was. Indeed, it was not that she was young. No, she had a strong mind of her own. He could see that. No, it was the undecipherable darkness in her green eyes that draw his attention. It was what unsettled him.
"Lady Olivia, you should go find the other women, we are working here." Someone told her.
But she did not spare the man a glance and stepped toward the throne. She paused to face Keda, their eyes meeting finally.
The young prince swallowed the lump in his throat and averted his eyes, turning toward his father. A strange shadow passed over his feature and the light in his eyes went out. Attila took it for what it really was. Guilt. Attila frowned. He easily figured out what happened. Keda bedded the girl even though he knew she was not for him. The smile that appeared on Attila's face was bitter-sweet. He saw the connection the two shared and the emotions they wanted to wouldn't have been King without some keen sense of observation.
What pained him though was that his youngest lied to him. He could have understood, because beyond doubt, the princess was attractive both in spirit and in body. Every man would have a hard time resisting her charm. Even if it was also true that he didn't like to share what was rightfully his, for Keda, his father would have made an exception. Because Keda was so very much like him! He should have known better! Attila always makes an exception for him. But now that his feelings were openly displayed before the King's eyes, Attila was more inclined in giving him the next lessons he needed so that he could pretend to the crown. The king would suffer long for mediocre but loyal Huns but will not suffer the competent but disloyal one. He should pay his deceitfulness a high price. Even if this price is to have his heart crushed in pieces at the hand of a woman such as this Olivia.
It was evident that she was hungry for power. Olivia stared at him with regal and Attila thought she was born to be queen. She was a cute little flower indeed?
"A poison gift, Olivia of Rome…" He said amiably. "Dear, I could never picture you as such."
She smiled back. Keda looked at the floor intently.
"The sweetest poison always comes in the most inconspicuous present, My King."
"Actually, it is why I can't believe it." Attila countered back. "You are far from ordinary."
She stride toward the throne and leaned over him. The room gasped from stupor at her boldness but she seems to not care.
"Believe me when I say I am not to be trusted, your Majesty." She said with a languid voice.
"Even snake can be tame...Princess Olivia."
"That is where you're wrong, my lord." She whispered.
Keda and his father shared a meaningful look. She was so very tempting. What should he do with her? Break her cute little neck. Take out her pulsing beating heart and offered it to Keda. Take her just in front of the crowd like a whore. Images of bloodshed and torture reflected in the slit of his murky grey eyes, Attila raised an eyebrow and she continued on the same quiet tone.
"But that will do for another story. Majesty, the Romans sent me to kill you!"
She said loudly and the agitation returned full force in the room. Keda looked astounded. The chieftains stood suddenly and some of the men began to walk in her direction. But Attila stopped them with a wave of his hands. He motioned Olivia to continue.
"Since childhood, I developed the skill of preparing poison decoctions. My father encouraged me to do so and took advantage of my skills to further his ambitions. If he sent me here, it is only knowing, I will help the Fates and take care of you... for them."
"Treacherous whore! I just knew..."
Keda got up and unsheathed his sword, knowing he had made her promise. But before he could strike her, Attila put her hand on the shoulder of his son and smiled. It was even better. The story was getting way more interesting by the second. The King silenced his men and encouraged her again to continue. He was more and more convinced that the girl had a purpose here... A purpose in his favor...
" My father, Solitius, was awarded the lordship of the provinces of Rhaetia and Germany controlled by the roman legions because of his sacrifice." She paused as if her mind was caught in memories. "He told me that I should strike you hard when your lower your guard. He told me that he will send some spies to help me escape. He promised my stay here should not be long. I knew he was lying."
Attila's first reaction was to think that she was the best actress he had ever seen since his days in Rome, then as she continue a rant, he began to discern sparks of truth in her discourse.
"Are you really that skilled with poisons?" He said with the most natural voice, a smirk on his face.
Her smile widened and her hand disappeared in her robe. She hesitated looking at Keda than she turned. She leaned over the first person that suit her purpose. It happened to be Kublan, the twelth son of Attila. She rubbed his face like a mother would her child. The prince grinned and then stood up to prove he was still alive and healthy. There was murmurs and snort in the crowd. And then without warning, Olivia kissed him, her lips sealed. Keda blinked, his father shifted position on his seat, the crowd grew quiet again, and Kublan paled considerably under her ministrations. When she released him, he staggered clumsily in the center of the room, gasping for air, his cheeks turning a violent blue color as he collapsed on the ground, his breathing raged and forceful. Attila rose from his seat and in two strides, he was over his son.
"Help him," he ordered.
"You ask me for a demonstration! A demonstration is not complete until the final act."
She said coldly.
"I did see, Olivia." Attila commanded with an anxious voice. "But now help him. I can't afford to lose a son because of a crazy deviant witch."
She tilted her head, her eyes defiant and challenging. Attila faced her just ready to choke the life out of her. Keda got up from his seat and the entire crowd began threatening her in more than one dialect. But she still didn't move, she crossed her arms on her chest and waited.
"What do you want from me?" Attila finally asked forcefully, the emotion caught in his voice. He almost growled the words out. The king of the Huns was ready to yield in front of a woman to save one of his numerous sons' lives. "Call Lupa!" He yelled to no one in particular, referring to the royal healer.
Kublan was now marching on the thin bridge overhanging the river of Death. And the nineteen years old searched desperately his father's hand for comfort. Olivia crouched, freeing in the same motion her wild wavy hair. She opened the sticks in her hand, spreading a reddish powder in her palms. She dabbed her fingers and smeared a good quantity on Kublan's lips.
"Lick it" she said to the young boy.
"I need water!" she said to Attila.
He scanned the crowd with incredulous eyes.
"You did not hear her! Do as she said!"
Digg sent his skin of water and Keda helped Kublan drink its content, his hand supporting his brother's head. Soon enough, Kublan wasn't breathing as forcefully as before.
"You should rest! The after effects will pass faster if you sleep on it."
Olivia told Kublan. Attila nodded and two men carried Kublan out of the room. A resounding slap crushed her face and Olivia jerked away. She looked at Attila as he wiped the blood staining his knuckles on some cloth. He sighed and his features relaxed. She swallowed the taste of her own blood with a grunt. Keda glared in her direction, unaffected. She was such a manipulative wench.
"Next time you try something like that, little girl, I kill you! "
"He was not in any danger of dying." She pointed out. And when Attila glared at her in return, she defended herself. "I may be wild, but I am not careless. I want to stay alive. Like I was telling you, the Romans planned your death. My lord, you asked me what I wanted from you?"
Again, Attila rolled his eyes, suddenly exhausted. Women were all the same in all cultures. What is it she really wanted? Freedom? Money? However he was not prepared for what followed.
She shook her head, gathering courage.
"I want my father to regret every of his actions toward me. I want him to watch everything he cherished burn to the ground and its dust being carried away by a strong eastern wind. I want him to look into my eyes when he cowered pathetically for his life. I want his head on a pretty stick to decorate my room and his skin as a rug to warm my feet. I want the emperor shaking from head to toe as he watch his empire crumble, about to be consumed by a lone Wolf with the strongest fangs. I want them to pay for their foolish arrogance. I want them to pay for their treason. And I want you, Attila, King of the Huns, to be my champion!"
His eyes widened in delight as he listened intently to her rants. She looked gorgeous in her white almost transparent dress describing with conviction the carnage she had in mind. He caught the fascination in his favorite's eyes. She was truly magnificent, well-deserving of a Hun Prince. He decided he would kill two birds at once. He would punish his son's treason... and expand his kingdom.
"You have a plan, Young Lady?"
He asked even though a plan already formed in his mind.
"My father sent me as a gift to you. But never did he give you the dowry that should accompany any respectable alliances? For a king as powerful as you, it is a rare offence."
"I should marry you..." Attila finished her thought for her.
"But Attila..." Onegesius intervened but they both ignored him as if they were the only two people in the world.
"And rightfully the province of Rhaetia should be mine. As should all the western provinces as indemnities for the offence against my person." Attila said and she nodded with a delighted smirk.
"They are waiting to be claimed by you! Solitius has no right on them. I know all about my father's strategy… The number of his man, the name of his allies, his weaknesses… I would tell you everything you need to know in order to win this war and crush him." She purred with a smile.
She sent a sharp look to Keda who avoided her by all costs. Inside of her, she was boiling, warped in torment. She wanted him to understand that she needed to do this in order to survive. She did not wish for a life of slavery. She did not wish to die caught accidentally in the fire. She was way too smart to die like this. Gambling on Attila… Teasing an untamed monster… This was the only way… No, it was the best way.
Attila and Keda shared a look. To a Hun, tenacity was everything. That is why to a Hun a lesson is best learned the hard way. Keda had never been fond of lectures even as a kid. Born a natural leader, he had a tendency to make his own rules. It was a quality that his father welcomed and nursed in his son from an early age. But there were times where he needed to crush his son's fierce spirit. Disloyalty and cowardice were the worse sins.
His eyes lowered down to the small witch. Olivia. She was beautiful and dangerous. Her selfishness knew no bounds. Honor, compassion and mercy were lost value to her. She wanted to live. The burning desire to live was strongly engraved in her emerald eyes. Somehow, she managed to impress him. She was truly a goddess. The goddess of destruction. She shattered the balance he had with his heir so easily. He could sense rebellion in his son. But he had every piece of the puzzle in his hands. These two children were great at the game of war. But truly, he was a master in the art of subjugation.
Only Keda was caught unaware in their games. At that moment, he only knew anger. How ironic, he had never felt such feelings before! But, now, he was simply seething with rage, anger at being deceived, anger for lowering his guard, anger for his own illogical actions, and anger for falling for her. How come he allowed his affection for a simple woman to cause a rift between him and the King? Between him and his beloved father…
"Lady Olivia I believe you have raised yourself into the scale of the Hun's society. Decisive to a Hun's success in life is a clear understanding of what the King wants. You have understood that very well. Lady Olivia, welcome among your people!" He kissed her hand gallantly and the crowd acclaimed their new queen. Keda swallowed hard.
"She managed it. She blended among them."
"Yeah, she did."
"No wonder, her character is so intriguing."
Salva said nothing. Modestly, she dressed.
"You did not tell me this story without a motive."
She shrugged.
"Know you, it has to have a deeper meaning."
" They are legends. I'm just saying people were scared of them… Their dynasty, their lineage, their bloodline… It means something. "
"What do you mean, love?"
"You're fighting a devil!"
"Merlin?"
"They are scared of him. They made up stories so that they don't have to enter the woods. We're losing ground in this war."
"I see… You believe I should forgive the Hun and let him live because are iconic character."
She smiled.
"His mother was an estranged cousin to the Emperor; you could call out for clemency. Would it be so strange? "
"My duty is to my men, woman. Roman Citizen always comes first."
It was her turn to patronize him.
"Tiberius, we are very far from Rome. Those silly men deserved to die. They were deserters and trouble-makers. Seeing their level of stupidity, Death was the least of their problem. But what do you think will happen in a few years? Caesar doesn't even hold Gaul anymore. My father, great magistrate of Gaul, was forced back to Rome a few months ago. And nothing was waiting for him over there. What happened when they no longer need you here? When they don't need this land anymore?
She had a point. He got up and dressed. The morning was cold. Snow was faintly falling in their courtyard.
"Let me worry about that, will you?"
"I won't."
"Salva!"
"I said I won't. You are not to worry about this family alone. They are scared of Merlin. But what if you had a weapon of your own… if you had your own monster… What if people feared you instead?"
"You want me to use the boy?"
"He is a killer, a machine, born in the most bloodthirsty dynasty that ever existed… He was raised among wolves… He doesn't care for his own life. He is perfect."
"He is uncontrollable."
"He seems that Arthur and his knights had developed a liking to him. He seems well-behaved in their company. It was the first incident since he arrived."
"Salva, you are well-informed and misinformed all at the same time."
"Is there a compliment hidden somewhere?"
"Yes. Let me think about the rest. I will make the suitable arrangements for our family when the time will come."
"Tiberius, my love, you are not alone. You don't have to think about everything."
He lifted his head barely when she held him against her chest.
"You're a bit like Olivia, meddlesome and troublesome. The story did not end well for her. Do you remember?"
"I am nothing like her. Her own survival was the most important to her. My love and my pride's survival is what come first. I need to know that we will be safe. Things are changing. I sense darker times. Frankly, I am terrified."
Tiberius leaned on his petite wife with a heavy sigh.
" Dead, Tanjin, Son of Attila, is nothing to you. Alive, he could be quite an asset. All you have to do is to listen to me. When Arthur comes, say that you won't help. It's important to have the trial to restore the trust of your own men. They have to know you will defend them."
Tiberius frowned.
"I will defend them with all I have of course! But how do you know Arthur will come?"
"He is my friend as much as he is yours. He is too much of an honorable man. He will try to save the life of his protégé. You would do the same."
"What should I do then? It is not even my decision anymore. "
"Arthur will be so desperate. He will not know that. He will not be listening."
"You want me to trick a friend."
"It is not much frankly. It wouldn't be too much to gather favors."
"Even if I do as you suggest, Praetor Curtius will arrive, a jury will be formed. I don't think he will spare the Hun no matter what I say."
"Praetor Curtius is a nice reasonable old man who likes his wine a lot. I will take care of him. You are the one who will have to deal with Arthur."
Tiberius pulled her toward him, kissing the nape of her neck.
"Well… I don't believe that everything will go as smoothly as you say. But I trust you to have the best intentions."
"I want us to win this war. What better intentions could there be? Then, I want us to live happily ever after on these lands, watching our children grow into men, having their own children. I want to die old in the strong arms of my husband."
Someone knocked on their door.
"Who is it?"
"It's Oras, master?"
"Come in."
The servant appeared in the threshold.
"Forgive me, my lord, for the early interruption. Artorius Castus, Commander of the Samartian knights, is requesting an audience with you. He is waiting in the Aula. "
Tiberius turned to his tiny wife. She chuckled slightly.
"No."
"What?"
"If you ask, I am never tired of being right. One of the small pleasures of being a woman…"
He laughed out loud.
[1] Nîmes
Is Tanjin the son of Attila or the son of Keda?
This is still quite a mystery, right?
The story of Olivia and Keda is six years old at the very least. It had always been the core of Un royaume au-dessus des nuages. It's one of the first thing I've written. I found the prints in a drawer recently. I scanned it and try to proofread it. I really wanted to publish this part. Of course, it is something that Tanjin doesn't know. His perception ot the events are quite different. First, he was not even born. Second his entire existence is based on the fact that he is without a doubt Attila's son. He is not ready to go there yet. But I wanted to stray a little bit from his perception to someone else's because I like the fact that Attila knows the truth. And I wanted you to know that everything is not quite as they seem. I think it's important to not entirely trust tanjin's perception for various reason, one them being that he is a drug addict. ^_^
However, it gives Attila more power in this story. He was that charismatic powerful king with almost preternatural qualitites. Being perceptive is a true power. He can read people very well especially his kin. It's so cruel the way he observed them coldly and teach them the way of life without truly communicating with them. But to be king is somewhat lonely. It doesn't mean he doesn't love his family. Indeed this chapter proves how much he loves them, how much he loves Keda. Countless times, Keda had been said to be the favourite. I like him in the role of the revered brother, the saviour of his people, the heroic Hun warrior. The truth is Keda had his flaws. He was young, cold, manipulative, sometimes cruel. He loved his father very much but it was hard sometimes to be such a precocious child. To be the one. As for Olivia, she is not as rotten as Miggy depicted in the story. She is just a young girl who struggle to survive in a world where there is no room for the weak. So yes, she is a scheming whore. She put herself between father and son with no qualms whatsoever. She had flaws. But she is not a bad person. I believe in those times it was very difficult to make the right decisions. To stay virtuous... None of the characters are... (Arthur, Take that ) They all want to live so badly. Only Rugha is rotten to the core. Selling his own sisters ! What a creep!
Next chapter will be The Trial of a Hun. It's written and saved. I'm just waiting for your reactions on this chapter. I need support. So if you read, review, please!