A/N Allo. Taeve here. The prelude is written by Orpheus ... basic explanation of some important factors to this story.
Reminder that this is based on RO and if u havent played it, chances are there might be somethings which you wont understand
Disclaimer: RO does not belong to me ... it belongs to some very rich people and i forgot their names (Gravity and Lee something another)
Taeve and Orpheus are a part of this game ... but their personalities are our own
anyways, plz enjoy the story ----

PRELUDE

When one has reached the age where boyhood has only recently been surpassed but manhood is still a way's away, there is no fate more excruciating than being left behind during a call to arms. For young Orpheus de Magdan, his current predicament was no exception to that rule.

"But mother! You were no older than I when you left for war!" With but a day left before the army marched, Orpheus was beyond desperation. Were it not for the servants of his household, he would have already succeeded in stowing himself away in one of the caravans at least twice now. He didn't blame them of course, for they were but doing their job, still for each he invented a fresh and innovative curse upon being found.

"Yes, Ori. I'm well aware of my own history, but my father was shepherd in poverty and yours is a lord of Juno." His mother's patience was quite legendary among the people, as was her logic, much to his displeasure. "As his heir, you possess certain responsibilities, such as staying alive. Going to war is not a good way of achieving that, boy."

Orpheus, in his frustration, began stalking towards the door, his footfalls as heavy as humanly possible. He heard the slightly panicked voices of those beneath him in the kitchen and that relieved his dour mood a bit. "But can't you just make another heir? I hear it's not that difficult."

His mother allowed for a small smile to fall upon her lips. In his eyes, she looked the epitome of hero. As tall as his father, she had a stance that was the envy of any man. Although she had met Aiden de Magdan at an early age, her lust for adventure kept her in travel for many a year, despite his persistent attempts to win her hand. However, the fact that she was nearing the middle of her life was hardly noticeable, even to the trained eye, and any who would doubt her skill with a sword soon learned that femininity does not reduce one's ability to spread bruises as easily as butter. Aurelia de Magdan was in all aspects, a knight of virtue.

"A possibility, no doubt. But who shall keep your father company in his hours of study? Who shall bring him his toast when he ignores his grumbling tummy? And who shall play chess with him in the evenings? Heavens knows I cannot outwit that man."

As usual, Orpheus could not find fault in her argument, but it did not make the situation any easier to bear. As was usual when he did not get his way, he plopped himself onto his overstuffed bed and refused to speak nor look at her. His arms were crossed and his face was contorted in what could only be described as a scowling frown.

Aurelia took her beloved son in her arms, possibly for the last time in many months. The minions of the Lord of Death, sworn enemy of Rune Midgard, had been spotted in the city of Niffleheim and King Tristan II was leading his forces in attempt to run them out. It was a wholly noble cause, but Aurelia, a veteran of many battles against demons, was fighting back a sinking feeling in her stomach that she recognized all too well. Her place, however, was by the side of the king, and there she would stand against any odds. She would just make sure to leave her son at home.

"I almost forgot, Ori. I have a gift for you." She smiled again as she noticed the light of boyish glee flicker in his eyes, although it was extinguished just as quickly in his attempt to look infuriated. "I'll just leave it here then and you can open it when I leave."

With still no word from him, she calmly stood up and walked towards the door. After one last glance at her world, she stepped out.

"Saints keep him safe," she whispered away from him.

Orpheus howled in rage as the arrow flew past the straw target. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that it was laughing at him, mocking his inaccuracy. He loosed another arrow, which missed as well, perhaps even further than the last.

"You'll never hit it like that, Orpheus." A voice behind him spoke.

There was no need to turn around. He knew who it was. The daughter of one of his mother's squires, Taeve Orowan had been his closest companion since either was capable of speech. Now, however, she was just another nuisance, someone else who came to provoke him.

"It's because your mother left with King Tristan's army and wouldn't take you, right?" She asked. Orpheus did his best to ignore her, but she went on anyways. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, my father left me behind too." Noting no change in his expression, she changed the subject.

"Do you mind if I practice my shooting with you? I brought my own bow."

They spent the next moments in silence, loosing arrow upon arrow at the straw figure. Their accuracy was still in question, but having made it into a game, it ended up lightening the moods of both. Neither noticed the time that had passed until the sun had fallen to the horizon.

As they began unstringing their bows, Taeve took notice of his parcel. "What have ye there, Orpheus?"

"Oh, my mother gave me a gift before she left."
"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"Why?"

She took a moment to think about it, but her answer came with a smile. "Because I brought my whip as well as my bow! I've been practicing with that too! Would you like to see?"

The look on Orpheus's face would have been considered comical had anyone had the pleasure of seeing it. Immediately he began unwrapping it. With more than a little bit of puzzlement, he revealed quite an odd contraption. Both he and his friend stared at it in awe.

Taeve was the first to speak. "Oh! Is that a…one of those…a…what is it?"

"A lute. It's a lute."

His fingers ran over the smooth, polished wood. In his hands, he felt the instrument resonate with power. Music of unearthly perfection flowed through his head, and although he would not be able to remember a single note afterward, he knew that his life was then irrevocably changed. Conscious thought slowly returned to him and the first thing he heard was the slightly panicked piping of Taeve. "Orpheus? Orpheus! What's wrong?" It brought him no amusement this time.

"I'm…I'm okay, Taeve. There's just something about this lute."

"Oh? Don't tell me you're about to become a musician now, Orpheus."
"And what if I am?"

"You can't be, you silly boy."

"Why not?"

Taeve sighed heavily, leaving her friend to stare at her in annoyance. "Orpheus, you're the son of Aiden de Magdan. You are the sole heir to the city of Juno. A lord. You can be a knight or even a wizard, but the lord of Juno can never be a bard."

At that moment, Orpheus disliked the women of the world more than he ever had before. Why had they to be so logical when it always went against what he wanted? Disregarding the defeat, he thought it best to change the subject. "You were bluffing about the whip, weren't you? I've never seen you with a whip before."

"Of course. I only got it today, to bother father. I told him that if he left me behind, I'd run off and become a dancer."

"And he…"
"Didn't believe a word I said. I didn't believe myself at the time either, but after I saw the army off today and was on my way home, I walked past a band of gypsies camping outside the gates. The way they moved, Orpheus…"
"I saw. I was there too."

"Weren't those dancers beautiful?"

The women dancers had indeed been beautiful, the way they spun about as gracefully as innocent petals in a midsummer's breeze. Their skirts, vibrant in colour, always caught one's eye and the splendour of it all left the mind dazed for hours afterwards. But Orpheus was not about to admit this to his friend. Instead he turned away as a flush overtook his face. "They were alright," he said.

"And one day, I'm going to learn to dance just like them, no matter what father says."

"No."

"No?" Taeve could not tell if it was just a comment or whether she had just been insulted.

"No. Like you said, those dancers were beautiful. You're too gross to turn out like them."

An insult. Definitely an insult. Orpheus just barely had time to grab his lute before he was running for his life. Taeve, while new to the whip, made up for it with the untamed ferocity of a wildcat. For the servants watching from the castle windows, it was great amusement and not at all out of place. Rather, with Orpheus and Taeve, it was completely expected.

The days passed slowly as all of Rune-Midgard awaited the outcome of the war. A sennight went by, and but the barest trickle of news reached Juno. As expected, any news spread quickly. This time it stated that King Tristan's army had finally reached Niffleheim and was about to lay siege, but considering the time it took for such messages to arrive, everyone knew that it was already old news.

With a war taking place, every adult in the castle was either too busy or too inattentive to pay heed to two youth. When on castle grounds, they continued their studies and practiced their archery. While still far from being marksmen, there showed a definite improvement in the accuracy of both.

Whenever an opening arose, however, Orpheus and Taeve preferred the seclusion of a nearby forest. They rode their peco peco's out often and only returned when night had fallen. The servants were well aware of these proceedings, but being respectful of the two, spoke not of it to their parents. Aiden de Magdan and Alyana Orowan were of course completely oblivious to it all, but no one expected otherwise.

What occurred in the privacy of the forest, however, was between Orpheus and Taeve. At first, there was but a cacophony of noise to be heard, which left many of the natural inhabitants in great distress.

"My goodness, Orpheus! Even the trees are shying away from your noise! See how this tree leans? Trees are supposed to stand up straight."

"Well, if it's anything, I'm sure it's because of your stumbling about. You've crashed into every tree here at least a dozen times!"

"I was disoriented by your note plucking!"

"I wasn't playing half the time!"

The argument was repeated everyday for many of the earlier days. However, as with most who possess both passion and talent, they improved at a miraculous pace. Soon, Orpheus's music could truly be called music and Taeve was able to step lightly, if not with the grace of the gypsies.

It was a delightful surprise for both when the first of the birds and the beasts began to return. On several occasions, when their dancing and playing was at its best, they found themselves with an audience, one that howled and chirped along to the more fast-paced tunes.

Their days of peace could not last, however, as on the third sennight, there arrived at the castle gates a messenger being escorted by a squad of the Juno Guard. Most of the household was there to meet him and all were shocked at what they saw. His clothes were shredded in several places, all obviously come from claws that belonged not to any animal. He was high with fever, possibly one caused by poison, but pure determination made him coherent. The peco peco was in no better shape. A once majestic beast, it no looked as if it were ready to collapse and be put out of its misery.

Aiden de Magdan ordered his guardsmen to assist the man off his ride and to fetch him a cup of water. The water was refused, the messenger thinking only to rid himself of his vital news.

"My lord–" He ceased due to a racking cough that overtook his body.

"Patience, good man. I am here to listen." Orpheus held much respect for his father at that moment. With news that was not only rushed, but obviously bad as well, how the lord was able to stay so calm was unimaginable.

"My lord, King Tristan's army had reached Niffleheim. The siege was launched. But when we least expected it, the demons rushed out as a horde and overtook us. I wasn't able to make an accurate count, but we must have been outnumbered six to one."

Aiden sighed so softly that only those very close to him could hear. "Go on, please."
After finally accepting to water and taking a few sips, the messenger went on. "Everyone fought valiantly. We must have destroyed at least a third of their army before they finally broke through our lines. But then it was over…"

"I see. Tell me, did…did anyone else survive?"

"There were two others like me, who escaped to pass on the message," the man replied, but he knew what the real question was. "My lord, no one who stood with the king survived. I'm sorry."

There followed from every direction the anguished wails of stricken servants. Orpheus himself was too stunned to cry out. He hadn't ever thought it was possible, but his mother, the paragon of strength virtue, was – no. It just wasn't possible.

He watched as his father stood, regal as any king, and walked into the castle. He knew that until lord Aiden de Magdan had reached his rooms, he would not shed a tear, but once there, he would mourn, possibly for days to come. His father had loved his mother very much.

He though, still could not find the tears. The sadness that left his heart near empty, with only despair remaining in the cold depth, was surly there, but the tears just would not flow. Someone came up from behind and wrapped their arms around him. For a moment, he thought that it was his mother, but it couldn't be so. She was dead. Instead, it was Taeve who was hugging him. She too must have been grieved by the loss of her father, and yet here she was, comforting him. He placed his hand on top of hers, aware of the dampness on his shirt, in the place where her head rested upon his shoulder.

It was then that he could finally cry.