Sword, Blood, and Ice

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Old Kingdom Trilogy. Garth Nix does. I own the original characters.

Summary: Touchstone once lived in Belisaere with his half-brother and best friend Rogir. When the Queen receives a new lady-in-waiting from the Clayr's Glacier known as Vlare. The three become close friends and an evil passion is ignited in Rogir's heart. A passion of Necromancy and dark sorcery.

Note: This fic spoils ALL three Old Kingdom books, it is set when Touchstone's Mother reigned as Queen of Belisaere and Sabriel was just a twinkle in her great-great etc. grandparents' eyes. This fic will have some lusty scenes.

Warnings: Naughty Touchstone.

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The Sword's Tale

Chapter One: The Soiled Tunic of Prince Rigan.

Remembrance of King Touchstone ~ I wish I could tell you. I want to tell you. It burns in my heart, all the truth that must be kept hidden from you. The three people I should be able to tell all. One day, I'll let you all know. The other me. My story. The people of my past. All I can say now, my sweet Ellimere, my remarkable Sameth, my darling Sabriel, is that I am sorry. Soon though, I can feel it. ~

"You dirtied your new, imported, highly expensive tunic Torrigan!" The boy flinched at the sound of his full name. "How can I make you understand that mud is not a place for a- a-," the tall, dark haired maid with beady eyes fumbled for the correct words for her scold. A bastard you mean? Rigan thought sulkily. He sighed as his eyes became interested with his shoes, and nodded every-once-in-awhile to make it look like he was listening to the maid's rambles and reproaches.

The woman sighed in defeat, as she knew perfectly well that a boy of seven wouldn't take any interest in her talking. His head was bent and all that could be seen was a sea of brown curls, which wasn't from his mother. She pitied him, even if it wasn't her place to pity him. She kneeled down and began to undo his tunic and asked, "How did it happen Rigan? Did you pretend you were a pig or some other foolish game you and Prince Rogir think up?"

"No, Lyla" he said as he looked up and let her unfold the dirt-soiled wreak of a tunic. "Rogir and I were having a mud fight. We are far to old to pretend to be pigs!" Rigan said in a superior tone, as if he were an adult having a sparkling conversation of importance.

"Oh, well, pardon me your highness," she jested in return, as she left him in his breeches looking for a replacement tunic. "Be that as it may," her voice turning sterner. "You had no right to spoil your ceremonial tunic for the Midsummer's Eve Festival. Your mother will be furious because it might not clean properly."

Rigan rolled his eyes-"Don't you roll your eyes at me young sire!" Lyla said harshly. "Now, since this tunic is absolutely ruined you can wear the one from Estwael!" The maid gave a look of triumph as the young boy's face went white.

"Not that one Lyla! I look like a glittering tomato!" He said in horrific rage. Lyla however snorted at the comment.

"Did Rogir come up with that too?" she asked highly amused.

"No," he said as he eyed the tunic with disgust supreme.

"You don't look like a glittering tomato. You look exceedingly handsome in it." She smiled, his brown eyes flashed with distaste.

"I'm not wearing it." Rigan said flatly.

"You are being stubborn, everyone will love you in it!" The tunic was almost decent. It was long with crimson silk fabric, lined with ruby rhinestones, with pink lace cuffs. Almost decent.

"Never, ever."

Lyla scoffed, she didn't want this to continue. She'll let the Queen deal with him.

"Fine little master," she placed the red tunic inside the boy's closet and faced him. "I will not persuade you to wear the lovely tunic."

Rigan looked pleased with himself and nodded. "I'm glad we came to a conclusion."

The maid arched an elegant black eyebrow. "Indeed."

"May I see Rogir now, we have a surprise for you and it needs a few finishing touches."

Both her eyebrows went up. It was no secret that the duo had a passion for pranks and gags, just the words in his sentence made her a little timid. Lyla glared at the innocent mask the Queen's son Rigan wore.

"I want no surprises from you the two Princes of Belisaere, thank you very much." She sighed and looked at his disappointed face. "Be off with you, go have your fun with Sir Rogir while you still have your youth!" And the boy rushed out of his chamber leaving Lyla to stare after him with suspicion….

~ I loved Lyla; she was a mother to me. More than my real mother at least. The Queen never had time for the bastard son that was I. I never cared until I got older.

Lyla was young when she started taking care of me, seventeen perhaps when I was seven. I never cared for girls at that age, if I did though I would have thought my 'motherly' figured maid was quite attractive. That emotion would come sooner than expected…~

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Note: First chapter, yay? Or nay? -ElvenJedi