"Cross the oceans in my mind
Find the strength to say goodbye
In the end you never can wash the blood from your hands" -Evanescence
Elliot kneeled before the door, chocolate orbs peeping through the keyhole trying to catch another glimpse of the princess his parents were trying to set him up with. Truth be told he didn't want to marry someone he didn't know, but he knew that his parents were relying on him to bring their name back out into the main circles of nobility. It was petty and selfish but he just wanted to get to know the girl before he made any commitments.
"What would you know about commitment? You're just a boy."
His father's words rung loud in his head even as he heard the clashing of metal on metal, it was so loud, so chaotic, a sound that was so terrifying to hear but utterly thrilling at the same time. His eyes focused in and caught a bit of pale skin, an arm, extended with sharp death at the end. She was sword training? How unusual for a woman. He shifted, the floor held no mercy for his poor knees as he sat straining to see the two clashing through the small hole. A hand upon his shoulder caused the boy to jerk, falling back with little grace. Brown eyes locked with blue as Jasper stood above him, a look of annoyance carefully masked behind his weathered gaze.
"Master Elliot, your parents are waiting for you in your room. If you would follow me, and please do not wander about the castle, it is rather unbefitting for someone of your stature." Jasper spoke calmly, waiting for the boy to stand and dust off his clothes before turning on his heel and leading the kid to his family. Elliot spared one last look at the door then took off after Jasper.
"You're doing rather well Princess! But you won't get anywhere with a stance like that. Here let me show you how to arrange yourself." Walter laughed, dropping his sword to his side as he made his way across the room to the young woman before him. She was quite a sight right now, black hair tousled from it's sloppy bun, tendrils clinging to her face which glistened with a light sheen of perspiration. The arms of her dress removed and tied about her waist, the skirt pulled off entirely, replaced with a pair of black pants that clung to her legs for dear life. Pale cheeks reddened and green eyes positively glowing in the wake of their activity. He chuckled to himself, oh how much she reminded him of her Father, he would always destroy his clothes during battle, one time he returned wearing naught but a makeshift loincloth and the remains of his shredded cloak. When asked about it all he responded with was 'bloody balvarines.' Admittedly it was rather humorous to see him walking about the castle in tatters one day then see him as regal as ever the very next.
"What am I doing wrong Walter?" her voice caught his attention, she was breathing rather heavily but seemed to be enjoying herself. He chuckled to himself, walking over to her and repositioning her hands on the hilt of her blade and kicking one of her legs back a little bit.
"Balance on the balls of your feet, not the heel." He commented as he pushed her back down a little bit hunching her over, "Keep your weight centered, it will help you dodge if you need to, and don't throw all of your weight around with the blade, you leave yourself open." She nodded quickly and adjusted herself accordingly, green eyes returning to him, waiting. He smiled, returning to his spot and striking up his own stance which was quite different than hers but then again he wasn't a small girl. He chuckled as he struck down, preparing himself for a rigorous sparring.
Later that evening Aia finally emerged from her training, with a great deal more knowledge and a fair set of new bruises to nurse as she made her way back to her room where a maid was already drawing her a warm bath. She sighed as Fenrir trotted beside her happily, during the last few hours he had taken it upon himself to nap on her discarded dress and had effectively gotten it covered in fur. A wet nose pressed up against her hand and she looked down at it's source, cracking a smile through her exhausted exterior as she patted him on the head.
"So we're to do that everyday huh boy? I hope that we get some good sleep tonight then, I don't want to disappoint brother when he returns." she joked and Fenrir barked, wagging his tail as he sped up down the hallway and nearly toppled over a servant in his wake, Aia sighed, bringing her hands up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she apologized to the servant who only too happily accepted and went about her evening chores. Reaching her room she held the door open for her furry friend and turned to close it when she caught a glimpse of blonde hair peeking out from the corner of her room where she kept her table set for her studies.
"Hello my lady." A soft voice came, followed by a full view of the intruder, Emily, sitting in a plush chair, draped in a simple silver throw as she stared out of the parted curtains.
"Greetings ma'am. Might I ask why you're in my room? Did Jasper not show you to your quarters?" Aia questioned, moving further into the darkened room before she discarded her cotton coat into a bin at the base of her bed. Emily chuckled, light and airy, almost a depressing tone and Aia raised a thin brow in question at the woman's tone, earlier she seemed so noble and now she looked but a mere commoner, out of place.
"No your highness, Jasper showed up each to our rooms quite some time ago, I sought you out. I wished to speak with you if I may." Emily sighed as she watched Aia round the table and sit in the opposing chair, flipping loose tendrils of black hair out of her face so she could set her green gaze on the woman before her.
"Of course, what is it that you needed?" The princess asked, carefully masking her discomfort and readiness to get away to enjoy her bath before the water lost it's heat. Emily leaned forward, elbow perched on the table as she held her head up with one hand.
"It's my husband. Princess as you no doubt know he has been trying to set contract marriage between you and our son, A contract that your brother has repeatedly denied." Aia had not known this but now understood why Logan had never formally invited the family over before, he wished to keep their influence far from the castle. "I do not believe in contract marriages, what is a vow with no love behind it? My husband does not share my view and he is rather forceful about his approach." She leaned back in the chair, folding her hands over her stomach and interlacing her fingers before continuing on, "He is trying to bypass your brother entirely and have you accept Elliot's hand in marriage while your brother is away. I am not here to ask you to do so blindly. I am here to ask you to give Elliot a fair chance, choose whether or not you wish to spend your life with him, see if there is any love to be shared, but do not accept it if you do not believe that you will be able to share your life with him happily." Emily's eyes seemed darker by the end of her request, as though she were trapped within the confines of her mind, perhaps reliving a memory of similar instances.
"I will do that, but my lady, I do not wish to get your hopes up, I will not marry before my brother returns, nor immediately after. I will wait until I am of age before I make any decision, please be sure that your husband knows this. I will not be pressured into anything." Aia spoke softly but with a stern determination, she was not one to be walked upon and the simple knowledge that Elijah had attempted to undermine her brother's rule had set her blood aflame.
"Of course your highness, I will not condone his pressure and I respect your decision to wait. But please I must ask you this in addition, stay away from Elijah. My husband is not a man of many words, nor is he a patient man. He will be furious when I tell him of your decision and I fear that he may lash out at your or perhaps even Elliot. I would much rather be at the receiving end of his wrath than have any harm befall the two of you." Aia's eyes widened, looking over the woman before her with a new light. The wisps of healing bruises dotted the skin she could see and she could only imagine what harm lay beneath the cloth that wrapped her. Her heart felt heavy as she stood, extending her hand to her.
"I will stay away, but I must ask, why do you not leave him if he causes you such harm?" Her question was simple, direct, and also hard to answer evidently for it took Emily a few minutes to finally compose herself enough to answer without a waver in her voice, though her eyes shone with the threat of impending tears.
"If I do he will use the status my name has brought him and tear my son from my arms. I cannot allow that to happen, even if it means that I must endure his wrath. Thank you for hearing me out Princess, I must go to my chambers, I have much to think about." Emily accepted her hand and stood, leaving the room quietly as a few tears slipped past their gates and soaked into her throw. Aia dropped her head, a nagging pain in her shoulders reminding her of the hot water that lay just beyond the door to her personal bath, waiting to soak all of her aches away. And as she made her way to the edge of the bath she sighed, This was going to be a long year.
Loud creaks fill the cabin, the floor beneath him rocks steadily with the waves that guide them along. Shouting and laughter float on the air rousing the king from his brief slumber. With a yawn and a stretch he stands, his neck popping deliciously and relieving a great bit of tension from him as he discards his heavy chest piece leaving himself in only a dark purple button up shirt and his figure hugging leather pants. His sash was nowhere to be found but it did not truly bother him. Right now he wasn't king, he was just Logan. Adventurer, crewmate, man. Not above these sailors and guards he trusted with his life but right there among them as a friend and a co-worker. He smiled, dashing out of his room to go help out on the deck, he was sure to be tired and likely sore this evening but he welcomed it. It wasn't the pain of sitting in that unholy throne, listening to others complain until his head threatened to split at the seams and his legs begged for movement, anything but the constant stasis they were forced into by his status. Cheers met his ears as a few of his men held up a large fish that had managed to flop it's way up onto the deck. Today was going to be a good day, despite the guilt that still loomed over him. His lips quirked up into a smile as his hands reached up to sit above his heart. Imagining that it were her hand he says a silent prayer to Avo to keep her safe and happy then he goes off to join his guards who stood in a circle surrounding two men who had stripped down to their shorts. He couldn't help but laugh as he watched the two men punch and kick each other trying to beat the other into submission. He knew that normally he would have to reprimand them for such actions but for now they could do as they wished. This was no longer Albion. It was freedom, pure sweet and simple. And he loved it. With a cheer Logan waded into the circle of men, intent on testing his skills against their own, smiles and friendly jabs to his ribs ensued.
Hours turned to days, and days to weeks, in what seemed like mere moments the ship had nearly reached it's destination. Aurora, the sandy plain, the land that killed his father. Logan looked upon it's shores with a glum expression, the past few hours had been trying, darkened clouds rolled in, blotting out the sun and thrashing them about. They lost several men to the waves alone, but the coast was even more formidable, the rain had turned the sand to mush, it sucked in their legs with little intent of letting go. Trudging through the muck they marched, being pelted with hard drops of rain, thunder sounded, lightning shooting off in the distance, rocking their ship that barely managed to avoid the jagged rocks that lined the coast. It was clear that they could not leave until the skies had cleared, they were stuck. Logan wiped his brow, inadvertently spreading mud about his forehead in his attempt to push the loose strands of hair from his face. The mouth of a cave seemed as good a place as any to take shelter from the torrential downpour that berated them outside. With shouts of dry land he ushered his crew inside. What was left of his crew.
Darren, James, Samuel, Daniel, Arthur, and Jim. Avo guide their souls to peace.
Logan sighed, dropping down to a rock to sit for a moment, dropping his head to his knees as he silently mourned their loss and dreaded the knowledge that they could not even return their bodies home to their family. His adventure had cost the lives of 6 good men, 6 friends. What had he done? He wondered as his men settled down, shaking from the cold of the coast even as they sat, surrounded by desert air. At least the cave seemed to give them some shelter, but shelter would not be enough, their supplies had washed away, the bread they all carried in their packs turned to mush, one man had the foresight to pack a few apples but that was not nearly enough to keep them all going. And so the day went by, the torrents never ebbed, and the sound of crashing thunder soon joined the fray. Night fell, and the occasional flash of lightning illuminated the dead sky, the moon hidden, tucked away by rolling black clouds that seemed to have no end. The men huddled together, with no materials to make a fire and their clothes still drenched to the bone and caked in mud they could only hope that the cold would spare them tonight. The temperatures dropped steadily, until their breaths formed mist about their faces and their hands and feet became numb. Logan struggled to unlatch the buckles that held his metal armor in place, his body could not conduct enough heat to keep the armor warm, instead it readily lapped at his core, driving the cold right into his core. He shook, as did the men that surrounded him, his body racked with shivers as he tried to stave off the winds that barreled through the entrance. Hours passed and a few men fell into what seemed a gentle slumber before one stumbled upon a piece of flint in the dark of the cavern on his way back from relieving himself. He snatched up the rock and pulled out his sword to strike a few sparks into one of the many abandoned candles that surrounded the cave. To their utter relief it lit, the flame catching and bringing them some much needed light. They all huddled around the one small flame for a moment to protect it from the wind as a few men tried to warm their hands. Logan joined a few others in gathering more candles to light so that they may provide some real heat and in the process stumbled over the sleeping form of Anders, who lay curled up in a ball. Logan grabbed his shoulder to wrench him awake so that he could come to the candles but was met with the sad knowledge that his friend had passed, another good man lost. He jerked his head up, looking around in the growing light to search for any more men. 4 more, 4 more men that would never return to their wives, 4 more souls to add onto his guilt as he moved on past them to gather up the few candles he could see. The soldiers had a pretty big pile amassed by the time he returned, enough to put out the heat of a small fire, and they were all grateful for it. As Logan revealed the fate of the 5 that were not around the fire he began to feel lost. Is this what his father felt in his final moments? Did he have to watch all of his men die before him? Did he have to suffer the biting cold? A somber silence followed as a few of the men went to go gather their dead and lay them in a corner properly, hands crossed above their hearts and eyes closed as they traveled onto to Avo's doorstep, may he be merciful. Logan closed his eyes as his feet began to regain their feeling, his mind wandered into dark places and he couldn't bring himself back into the light that he sat in front of, it was as though something was holding his head under the sloshing waters of his own despair and he wasn't strong enough to fight it. He fell into darkness and the darkness was only too willing to embrace him.
A/N: I'm aware that there's quite a bit of jumping in this chapter but I hope it will suffice.