Miquella had come to him personally to relay the news of what transpired beyond the tower of binding guile. Messmer already knew well what had happened, but he was faintly happy to see his younger brother, even in his half-spirit form. It was a cold comfort to a cold heart. Messmer could find little within himself besides all consuming apathy. He slumped even deeper into his throne, sighing.
Years ago, so many years ago, Messmer had heard of his mother's changing heart. Revelation had come through Rellana's moonful divination, a skill she'd used to pierce mother's mask. Owain had prostrated himself before Marika, begged on hand and knee to take Messmer home, to take Messmer's place at the head of this holocaust. The knowledge had buoyed the prince.
Messmer had been fighting complete despair, overwhelmed at the total vengeance his mother had asked of him. The thought that his self-imposed isolation and the manufactured hatred he'd heaped atop himself might be ended had filled him with fledgling hope.
Now that Owain knew of Messmer's nightmarish endeavor, he'd surely whittle away at mother's wrath, he'd convince her to release both prince and hornsent from her retribution! Messmer knew he would be scolded of course, spurned by those that did not know the hidden tale, but it did not matter as long as he could go home. Back then he could still call this crusade a proper war. Only slaughter remained now.
Not even a few months later, Rellana and he had watched horror as Godwyn and Wain were murdered, mother sealed herself and father within the Erd Tree, and the rest of his siblings all went mad from the power of the elden shards.
Messmer had stopped hoping then.
He set to his unchanging task with iced efficiency. He killed and culled and, for those that held the whips, he tortured and tortured and tortured. Such viscous, sticking sin. Unceasing, unending, unwanted. Over and over and over did he sin. Tens of thousands, hundreds. Messmer dutifully committed himself and his forces to unspeakable evil in accordance with his mother's willed wrath.
The Black Knights had fractured at the onset, horrified as Messmer revealed the true power of his fire. They could not stomach the sight of the flames' hunger. Despite Messmer's assurances that his serpents held the base flame at bay. Knight-Commander Andreas and his son Huw had led a revolt against the prince, balking at the genocide they'd been tasked with. Messmer understood, and he did not hate them for it.
Theirs had been a painful betrayal. Andreas had been handpicked by Owain to be Messmer's right hand, a grizzled veteran who could be counted on for his righteous nature and cunning mind. His son had been a lifelong friend to Messmer. Both had served as exemplary knights on Messmer's original quest of aid. He'd thought…he'd hoped they would see through the violence of this cause, that they'd see him.
He'd stopped hoping. Much of the black knights, long devotees of the crucible knights before them, had been jailed or put to the spear. Even now, Huw and his father lingered, imprisoned. The thought made Messmer's frown deepen. Without the most righteous and upstanding of the black knights, his main force was made up of those men that held no qualms with killing, be their foe innocent or not. An excellent tool for what Messmer had done, if unsightly and nauseating.
The fire knights, his personal knightage, had stayed beside him. They shouldered this grotesque fate of his with grim smile and helping hand. His aunt Rellana had been a steadfast ally as well, though he made sure not to impose upon her castle, nor beseech her aid with winnowing the hornsent. She offered protection and love in the name of his father, he did not ask anything else of her. Gaius too, had remained, but their friendship had strained over the course of the campaign. The man rarely left his cottage now.
The only force from Leyndell that had successfully defied Messmer and the rest of his troops had been the tree sentinels Owain had sent with him. Captains Otmar and Adelhelm, at the first sight of what Messmer's true duty had been, had withdrawn to mother's village and declared the immediate lands around it sacrosanct.
Their oaths forbade them from participating in such butchery, but so too did they prevent the sentinels from striking at Messmer, a golden prince. Oathbound and duty sworn, they had created refuge for those hornsent that could be assured to be innocent, mostly children.
Otmar, a man who's skill in combat almost rivaled even Lord Reginald, had met with Messmer only once. The captain warned him away from the small lands the sentinels had claimed in no uncertain terms. A warning Messmer had heeded gladly. Even had the prince desired to lay low the two companies of sentinels, it was not a task he could undertake lightly. That they guarded the sacred home of his mother and spared even a few of the innocent hornsent children from his unholy charge were added blessings.
For near a century now, they'd all toiled in misery. This campaign was never supposed to last this long but the way was shut and Messmer did not think himself worthy of such a thing as a joyous homecoming. He did not search for escape. After such perennial malignance, Messmer would see it through even if his self-hatred had never been so scalding. He'd burned- purified -near all the nornsent population that were trapped in these lands with him.
He had been looking forward to completing his task, for once it was done, so too would end his life. He did not deserve to even breathe after…everything. He would have gladly pierced his heart that very moment but accursed hope flared in him anew.
Rellana had relayed to him the news of Owain's revival. Messmer had not dared entertain the thought of freedom, but his self-destructive hands had…stilled. His aunt had showed him Renalla's recovery, then Radahn's, then Rykard's. Morgott had freed himself of his omen curse and Melina… Melina had returned! His little sister had come back from the dead somehow and Messmer could not lie to himself any longer. He was hopeful. He was exhausted, he despised himself, and he held melancholy past all reason; but against all odds he hoped.
If so much had been repaired, then perhaps mother could be freed. If mother could be freed then…could Messmer not also be allowed escape? Though, truly, Messmer desired to be punished far more than he desired his freedom. After this thing he'd done, he deserved to be held to account. His efforts at healing mother's people. His attempts at preserving the hornsent's culture through documentation and collection. Paltry appeasements to a troubled mind.
With any luck and hope against hope, Owain would come to these lands of shadow and take the choice from his hands. He did not think Miquella would succeed in his effort to attain godhood in time. Especially as he had yet to find the lord he sought. Messmer's eye slid up the grimed wall of his throne room. Mother's stone face watched him, piteous and disapproving.
Would she forgive him for lacking the resolve to fully wipe away the hornsent? Could he forgive her for allowing him to try? Things could have so different, Messmer could have been so different. Why had she allowed the sons of Godfrey to stay within the light? To be a child of Radagon was to be cursed, but was that his fault? Messmer had never asked to be born.
He sat in dust and the dark, and he hated that he hoped.
His time at mother's home was coming to an end and he would need to return to his duties soon. The evening air was crisp as he trudged his way up a small hill to sit beneath the lordly oak he and Godwyn had oft climbed as children. He needed to think.
He did his best brooding whilst watching the stars. They shone with silver brilliance, clashing for lightful domination against the full moon. He groaned as his back met the great tree's trunk. He'd a new brother! Knight Kristoff had impressed Crissida with his defense of mother's home, and their romance had bloomed even in the midst of war. Owain recalled knighting the man, who was a close friend to lord Vyke. His honorable nature and steady eyes had impressed Owain enough for him to be notable.
It was heartening to see his family grow, and the joy he saw upon Crissida's face made him happy. It had been so long since all of their family was under the same roof, the last few weeks had been nigh a return to the past. Even aunt Siluria had come to stay, she and father had put Owain through his paces with glee. His side was still sore from his aunt's boot.
Though not all was smooth waters. Owain missed Ranni. He'd reached equanimity and wished her to come to his side, but could not find the words to ask so whensoever he sat to pen a letter.
He would see her in a few days of course, but he was unused to lingering in uneasy conflict with her and it unsettled him even as he tried to relax. He scrubbed at his face with a hand, letting his head thunk into bark. The sky held no answers for him this night. He closed his eyes to the twinkling black, sighing anew.
He must have dozed off, startling at the sensation of gentle mist. His gaze opened to see Ranni stood before his seated form, hands clasped before her and eyes cast down. "Greetin's, my dear." her voice was small and soft and made Owain frown. She must have been unable to take any more separation between them, but had held out, unwilling to risk his ire. His heart ached.
He stood, taking up her hands in his own with a tentative smile, "Hello, beloved."
"Thou seemeth better rested." she murmured, finally looking him in the eye. She slipped free a hand to run tender fingers along his cheek.
"This reprieve from my duty was needed." he said simply.
"Seek thee a reprieve only from duty?" her lips pressed to a thin line. Owain's jaw tensed, must she prod him so?
"Speak plain, wife." he demanded, tone unedged.
Her hand lowered to rest against his chest, "Why dost thou look at me so?"
"Does my gaze seem changed?" He tried to smooth the furrow of his brow but was unsuccessful. This fresh anger…why- was it his own?
Her voice lowered even further, hardly above a whisper, "Beyond repair…our bond, can it be mendeth?"
"It is not broken, wife." he said, hoping she would simply believe him. He had not the mind for another row with her. He just wished them at peace once more.
He scowled as he saw her lips begin to tremble, she clasped his face in cold hands, "Wain." Why did she see anger in him that he did not wish to see himself? Could she not let it lie?
"Ranni." he muttered, frustrated. Spiked wrath bristled in his throat, words he knew would wound her unspoken, but readied. No… why would he ever wish her harm?
She turned from him, face anguished, "Wirra. My heart aches ."
Owain bit back a sigh, steering her once more to him with gentle fingers to her chin, she looked down at him cautiously, "Give to me some time. I will not say all is well, but do not dare despair that all is lost."
"I see it clear in thee." hearing her sound so miserable made him feel like the most low of dastards.
"See what?" he caught her around the waist as she tried to pull from him.
Her hands made fists atop his chest, "Revulsion! Thou'rt disgusted by this beast afore thee, yet thou thinkest to hide it."
Owain huffed, rage bubbling. He blinked away the feeling. He was angry, aye, but that was not his anger, "Rev-oh be serious! I am not revolted by you, I am upset by your actions but know better than to start a quarrel with my pregnant, restless wife! What's done is done, my anger serves no purpose save to discomfort you, of course I hide it." Mind must prevail over heart, he must not be swayed by emotions not his!
Heating annoyance began to supplant her sadness as she sneered at him, "My fear is not bourn of my pregnancy nor my unsettled soul! Thou knowest that. For me to know thy feelin's is better, better than this hidin'."
"Pray, wife, I do not wish to argue right now." he pleaded, biting back another sigh.
Slender fingers sunk into the hair at his nape, locking his gaze to her own, "Wain, I canst not bear this tension betwixt us! Speak honest, speaketh unsoftened."
He inhaled, laying his brow to hers with a steady breath through his nose. He needed to mind his temper, lest the runes make a fool of him once more, "Fine, you wish for bluntness, I shall give it. What your deeds caused my brother to- it is a horror beyond my willing knowledge but there is nothing for it now! I have loved you for so long, you are as much a part of me as I am you. We are forever bound, us two. By flesh and soul are we intertwined, so what use is making clear my anguish when it will only bring forth guilt in you?"
Her kiss was a shuddering pressure against his lips, her hands wound around him ever tighter, "Owain, I.…"
It was not Godwyn, not truly. He had already resolved himself to forcing a fairer fate for his brother. No, it was this too long grasped madness within him. It was beginning to singe. The shards, the howling things whose braying screams went unceasing every hour of every day.
He would confess at last, his great weakness. The writhing weight of these shards was a lingering agony from which he could find no escape. His steps were ever careful, his touches ever more cautious. He had always felt as if he lived in a world of brittle glass but the power within him now made it all the more fragile. He feared harming her, he feared destroying anything and anyone that he held in these hands ceaselessly poised for violence.
He reared back from her, beseeching her worried face for understanding "Truly, beyond your error, beyond all this ceaseless toil and crushing duty, I am wearied, Ranni! So- the weight of it, of these runes, is so very heavy. Respite only eases the ache, it does not fully banish it."
The tears that slipped from her wide eyes went unheeded as she pressed forward, pulling him closer even as he tried to push her away from the peril of his embrace, "Then givest them unto me, mine heart. Thou knoweth I wouldst shoulder them with you." her smile was loving, but did he see avarice upon her face? Was this a ploy for more power? He shook his head with a growl. Nonsense!
He felt the muscles in his neck spasm as he clenched his teeth, choking back vitriol that was not his own. She sought to steal the runes! The runes! Mind the runes! His grip upon her twitched and he yanked his traitorous hands away before they could do her harm. Did she not see the danger? Could she not see his foolishness?
He bowed his head, "There is something in me that will not stop. It does not bend, it does not break, but it wears. The edge is dulled, the metal brittle, Starlight." His witch looked upon him with such earnest love and searing adoration, she thought him better than he was, he turned his face away from such light, "I contend with gods and demons and dragons and I am only a man! A man!" he cried.
She snarled. Ever did she push forward, catching him with careful magic as he stumbled over a root. Ranni sat astride his hips as he leant once more against the tree, "No! Thou'rt not!" the grass around them frosted, the branches of the mighty oak above them groaned from the icy wind, "Thou'rt more than a mere man, surely thou must seest so." How could he sooth the fervor with which she idolized him?
He growled a sigh, hands clenched too tightly, "No, Ranni. This…whatever it is you think me to be, I am naught but skin and sinew and will. Can you not see that? " he slammed a fist to his chest, needing her to understand. "What legend have you built within your mind? What myth?" His voice was pitched high with panic.
"Sunbeam." she breathed, her shock disrupting her anger as warmth suffused his lungs.
The runes called for blood! They roared that this woman must be brought to heel, brought to order. The very idea of trying to leash his hurricane snapped Owain from his rising fury. They could quarrel, they could disagree. Never would he seek to bind her tempestuous nature, without her fire she would not be his Starlight.
He laid his head against the tree's trunk, releasing the fists he held to find his palms covered in blood, "When I was a young man, I took up this mantle of responsibility with pride. I was honored, euphoric to serve my queen, to impress my father. Long, have I dreamt of retirement. Long have I yearned for rest, of idling my days away with you." he evened his breath, his words measured. He would not be made a lashing tool for these wretched pieces of godhood.
"This I know, Wain." she whispered, touch tentative against his chest.
"Not even in the shadow of death could I find respite." he rasped hoarsely, "And since my return, it has been struggle after struggle, tribulations unending! The elden shards, they crush upon me so, Ranni, I-I can not bear it alone." He'd admitted it at last.
Her eyes widened and for a long moment she was silent. He watched as she reached some sort of realization and her expression softened, "My sweet consort." a velvet palm brought soothing magic to cool his stinging eyes, "It hast been difficult, aye?" her voice was tender, husky and soft.
"Aye." he said, throat too tight.
His hair was brushed away from his face as she brought him forward, tucking him to her chest, the scent of lilacs suffused his nose, "Thou've struggled so hard for our family, I am most proud, husband. Sweet man, valiant lord, mine guiding light." She planted kisses into his hair with each new name.
"R-Ranni." That his voice was such a whimper embarrassed him.
She hummed, nails working feathery circles into the fabric of his shirt, "Release thy tears, my dear. I am here, thou'rt safe. In arms of flesh art thee held. From beyond death didst thou save me, my brave and mighty champion."
His sobs claimed him fully then, He had not known it but it seemed he'd needed comforting from her far more than he'd realized. His anger at her was justified, but that made it no less poisonous to him. He should have seen past the taint of the runes. His arms wrapped around her midriff.
"The weight is heavy but I shall help shoulder the load. Thou'rt righteous and steadfast, I see the effort thou'st put forth, I know the tumult within thy chest. Forgive this Starlight of thine for not seein' beyond mine own troubles for so long. I see thee as a man, Wain, not a myth."
"I missed you, Ranni." he admitted into the soft satin of her robes.
She reared back in his lap, brushing away his tears with a curled knuckle, "Soothed and serene am I, so shall I stay. Forgive mine fears and my fluster. Into these bones am I set. Leaneth upon me, Owain. Dare not tread this path alone. We are as one."
He chuckled weakly, bringing a palm to her cheek, "I need you beside me, Ranni of Caria."
"Such is my place, mine hearted-half." her eyes did not waver from his while she placed his hand atop her heart.
"I shall ask my father if he would take one of the shards for a time. Perhaps my aunt as well. I require a reprieve from the three, even for a short while." his voice was a mess, so choked as it was.
"I couldst hold a-" she cut herself off with a rueful smile, "Nay, I know thy likely words."
"To be so known is to be so loved." He allowed himself a few moments to feel the beat of her blood through his palm before rising with his wife in his arms, "Come darling, let us get you out of the cold."
"No cold canst touch me when I am aside thee." she whispered, lips to his ear.
Owain smiled in full, feeling more soothed than he'd been in a long while, "Ever the romantic, aren't you?" Ranni giggled, kissing his cheek. They could do this. He would need to be careful, but they could do this. Together.
Radahn's morning was going splendidly. His redmanes had begun construction on substantial exterior defences for the new city that sprawled at the foot of the Caria manor. He'd also received word from Lady Nepheli that she had finished rebuilding efforts for Stormveil as well as fortifications for the surrounding towns. Most pleasing of all, Tayna had taken tea with him and told him looked especially handsome. He'd been grinning like an idiot ever since.
They were working now, armored and veiled, off to another tedious session with the Reeds emissary. After weeks of talks, Radahn, posing as Owain, had at last convinced the emissary that a marriage to queen Marika with the emperor simply was not at all feasible. The first of the bratling's requests had been accepted, however, though Radahn had yet to tell Owain. He was loath to disturb his brother's sojourn.
A guarded encampment had he and Lady Nepheli allowed the reeds ships to build along the Limgrave coast. They had been forced to stay upon their ships too long and it was clear the reeds forces needed distraction if peace were to be maintained.
The distraction came in the form of limited trade and supervised interactions with the surrounding regions. More detailed trade agreements were still be hammered out, but for now the Reeds emissary had relented in his miserly behavior. The fresh supplies were greatly appreciated. Winter fell upon the land with biting wind and looming clouds and one did not wish to weather it unprepared. Ready made textiles were as precious as gold to the long dwindled peoples of Limgrave, the Mistwoods, and the demi-humans of Mourne. These southern regions had not the resources Owain had already secured for Caria and Altus.
Radahn had consulted for long hours with Princess Nepheli on battle plans and contingencies should the reeds forces choose to betray the trust they two offered. It was an exercise in tactics that Radahn was savoring after so long idling away at Caria manor. It would be safe to simply kill all the soldiers by destroying their ships, but then they would doom all the supplies those ships carried with them to watery disuse.
The knights of the south were vastly outnumbered by the Reeds forces. Defeating Reeds was not such a daunting task for Radahn himself, but the Carian family entire was too destructive and the region desperately needed the supplies undamaged. So the weight of Princess Nepheli's and Radhan's plans fell upon his Redmanes and her new knight order, the Storm Hawks. There was a small delegation of demi-human warriors as well. They hailed from Mourne and followed one they named "Leonine".
All three groups, with the aid of Owain's ever present sentinels, should be a match for the forces of Reed, if Radahn had planned accordingly. His scouts had long been inspecting the warships and the soldiers that disembarked from them. He did not think they held too much unseen danger below deck that he himself could not handle, should he need to.
Mother was due to arrive any day now to wake Rykard, and the manor was buzzing with excitement. Blaidd had been spending much of his time with Tanith and their new niece, Rya. Radahn was no initiate, he could sense the potent sorcery about the golden haired child, and could guess at her…unconventional creation.
His doubts towards the girl had been assuaged at first at mother's acceptance of her, and then wholly washed away as he'd spent more time with the youngling. Little Rya was delightful and ever so polite, Tanith had done a wondrous job of raising her, the newest princess of Caria. The girl was still unused to the lavish treatment afforded to one of her station within the manor, a thing that Radahn found quite endearing. He had been taking meals with his family at supper time and watching his niece stutter out repeated thanks to the castle staff for every small task was amusing.
Tanith as well had regained some semblance of her normal calm countenance. The revelation that Rykard likely remembered almost nothing of his life was a hard and scarring blow, but his sister was handling it with much grace. Radahn had been pointedly trying not to dwell upon it, despite Blaidd's constant bemoaning. The loss of many of his own memories was discomforting enough.
They came to him at odd moments in little bursts. His sympathy towards Owain was growing by the day. Just the week prior, Tanya had needed to catch him before he'd tumbled off the castle ramparts. Memories of his childhood and beloved cat, Bucephalus, had blindsided him off the walkway. He frowned, slowing Leonard to a walking gait. The glint of the gold clasps of his mount's bridle captured his eyes. Something felt…off.
"My lord?" Tanya asked quietly, bringing her own mount to a stop beside him. Lord. Why did that word-
"Lord brother?" Radahn glanced down at the prince that hurried along beside his long strides. It amused him to no end that his brother insisted on such formalities.
He smiled, ruffling his sibling's golden hair, "Thou needst not name me so, little brother."
Miquella batted his hand away indignantly before suddenly becoming bashful, "Radahn…"
"Aye?" Radahn teased. He wished Rykard and Ranni saw their younger siblings in the same light he himself did. They were not responsible for the circumstance of their birth, they only tried their best to make their way through this gloomy capitol.
Miquella stopped walking, clasping small hands before him. Radahn watched his fidgeting curiously, why was the boy so nervous? "I have given much thought to the future of our lands and I…I would ask a great boon of you."
"Hah! Such roundin' words, out with it, I shall not bite." He crouched to meet his brother's eye level.
Miquella's brow furrowed, "I wish to make this world better, gentler. I wish to be a god. If I can ascend to such a height, I shall need a lord, a consort, to rule my order."
Radahn's eyes widened, a great boon indeed! "Thou wouldst ask such a thing of me?" He supposed it made sense, any other Miquella might ask for this favor would likely see it as blasphemous against the eternal queen. Godwyn especially would not be receptive to such talk. Owain might actually keel over from shock.
"You are so mighty yet possessed of such a tender heart. It is that strength and kindness I would see help guide my age of compassion." the prince cast his golden eyes down.
"Thou'rt serious…" he breathed, surprised, "Very well, little brother! Should all the stars fall into the place and such a fate as godhood align for thee, then I shalt be thy consort. If a gentler word is truly what thou seeketh." he clasped the boy gently upon one of his thin shoulders.
It was an easy vow, as it was one he would not need see through. The stars would stay trapped. He would never allow Ranni's fate to be bound to that which she so despised. Just the thought of Queen Marika ever relinquishing her reign nigh made him laugh aloud.
Miquella was so young, he'd yet to see the true and terrible burden of leadership. Yet to feel the horrible weight of holding so many lives in one's own hands. Radahn was sure this vow of his would be one day forgotten, the twins' planned haligtree would see them busy beyond belief. He felt poorly for his half-deceit, but he did not wish to let his little brother down, especially when he beseeched him so earnestly.
Radahn dragged a ragged breath as he returned to his senses Tanya's hand on his arm all that had kept him in the saddle. He understood now. The words his little sister had spoken as she'd condemned them both to rotted madness. He circled Leonard back towards the manor, the others must hear of this!