Sweet Adolescence
The conference had taken a toll on her confidence. While she did expect some opposition to be entrusted the leading of an entire army considering her young age, and even her gender, she did not expect to be so harshly questioned for her loyalty to Qylan. It was almost as the other lords seemed to expect some incredible foresight. Since when was suspicions enough to stop an act when action was needed? She had even told the Krestarii that the Orc had seemed off, but the Archmage? There was no trace in such foul play, and they knew it too.
She had been offered a more traditional meal of roasted game, but the spices were not to her liking. And salad? She kept chasing the peas with her fork over the plate, clearly bereft of any appetite. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so trusting...” No, that was a lie. She didn’t trust anyone. Not a single person in this room, or outside it. They were liars... Traitors, all of them... To think she’d have to cooperate with such a host was dampening her mood, reiterating in her mind how she at every step would need to look behind her back. Then the Dark One’s threats to add insult to injury. Her thoughts were spiralling down, even though she had promised herself to enjoy the feast to the fullest without politics intervening.
She studied the dancers. A pleasant display to say the least. A mix of colours, music and harmony, embracing the room with all senses. Smell of the incense, the vibrant movement, the sound of a southern tune. It was indeed a feast to enjoy, but she could only barely soak it in. Her Light was growing, however. It felt warmer, and suddenly, too warm.
“I need some air.” She told Alvon, and they rose. In a discreet gesture, they snuck out to enjoy the evening from outside for a moment.
Eylinn was leaning against the railing on the balcony, listening to the comforting shallows rolling against the beachheads far below. The air had a musty saline smell to it, one she had barely whiffed during her visits to Coamenel during the Corpus infection. But here, it was clean. Not obstructed by the odours from the great pyres of bodies sizzling in the background. Whatever serenity she was able to soak in, it was not shared by Alvon. He had a determined expression to his face, looking back into the great hall where the feast was still at large. Something was catching his interest with absolute sincerity.
“What are you ogling?” She asked. He did not turn his head around, but sounded a deep grunt.
“Their clothes... Barely hide anything.” She was taken by surprise. Eylinn had never really looked at her mentor as a man also in need of pleasure. He had always stood by her side in service, with such unconditional loyalty; she had never bothered to ask.
“You go back in. Find yourself one by all means. I’ll be fine here by myself.” She smiled. Alvon was not about to question her reasons, but took the opportunity in its fullest. With strong, long steps he marched right back in to delve deeper into the festivities.
Eylinn would stand there for a little while longer before the metal sound of weapons and armour awoke her from her thoughts. It was the heir to the Pale, Freyr Frostsverð, accompanied by his thrall, and they were heading straight towards her. She wrinkled her nose. Freyr gave motion of speaking, but never lived up to the task. Instead, Eylinn fell down to a curtsey, but he didn’t bow in return.
“Milord Frostsverð..." She looked at the thrall. "I suppose you are here to confirm your father's claims of my lack of political perception?" Freyr’s eyes revealed his shock before he looked over at his thrall.
"Oh mistress, I am so sorry! I..." He looked back at her. "I...I am so used to always having one in my shadow." He told the thrall to return to his father. "I'm so stupid; my father even told me that I should have left him behind." Eylinn dropped her guard, slightly ashamed. She let out a sigh.
"No, forgive me, milord. I am not one to judge others customs when I myself am so cemented in mine. I try, but... Never mind. It is a pleasure to see you again. You have grown quite since the last time I saw you.” He had indeed. He was starting to resemble his father, a true warrior’s build. His pale, grey eyes a mirror of his own people, and his fair blonde hair was well kept above his white face. Unlike his father, he had yet to receive any scars and there was no trace of a beard. “Enjoying the feast?"
"Not much. My father is filled with worry. You can almost feel his concern in the air." He started to blush, moving towards the railing and leaned at it beside her, looking up towards the stars. "So I decided I was going to find the one thing I enjoyed in the feast." Eylinn, blissfully oblivious of his intentions kept on going, happy to have found someone to carry a normal conversation with.
"The dancers were splendid, weren't they? I never did learn to do it myself, but I've always appreciated the rhythm. But what in the Light could you find out here that would be so enjoyable?" He closed his eyes and breathed in the cold night air.
"The different nature, it fascinates me how the world looks. You wouldn't believe how different this is from The Pale."
"I am sure the Pale is very lovely." She lied. "The warm climate down here doesn’t sit with me too well. But I enjoy the sea." Freyr laughed.
"You don't mean that, everybody is always surprised by the beauty of The Pale" He turned around and pointed towards his step-mother. "You see the flowers in her hair? Those are stone flowers from The Pale which during spring and summer cover all of Bronsholm." Eylinn rose an eybrow in bemusement.
"Flowers in the snow? Now I know you must find me gullible and naïve." She smiled. He turned to her, sporting a boyish smile.
"Maybe, but the snow as it covers a forest... The blue light and the icicles hanging from the branches, it is a perfect place to sit and think and forget all the troubles of Agorheim. Even if it's freezing cold."
"A-Agorheim, milord?” She said, stumbling on the word, trying hard to pronounce it right. “Is that what you call the Pale?"
"Ah no, sorry you call it Agorath. Our customs might be very apart, but we are still from the same. The Pale has only been isolated for a very long time, almost entirely forgotten in the Empire."
"Indeed. When your kin first marched into Green Chasm, you had our people quite in the stir." She giggled. "What an odd way to first meet the glacier Men. I thought we'd have a war there and there."
"Oh yes, you were very strong back then, The Pale Ones value that. You earned a lot of respect." Eylinn turned down her eyes to the ground, her smile vanished.
"Thank you, milord, but I know that isn't true. Kind words regardless."
"Protecting your Brethren is the strength we value." She leaned herself against the railing with her hip, looking up at Freyr with a stale smile and tired eyes.
"Then why did I feel mortified as your kin arrived? With every word I spoke? It's not strength. It's just... I don't know."
"To summon strength when it is needed is not strange." He looked towards his dad with a troubled face and tried to force a smile. "I have no idea how I will ever bring forth strength to protect what my father has created." Eylinn’s face turned somber.
"I never wished to live up to mine. Only to... Only to make him proud, and happy. I always thought that was what your parents would appreciate the most. Not eclipsing them."
"Oh I know mine is proud of me, I just don't know if I can live up to what the Pale Ones expect of me..." His voice decreased in strength. “As if it wasn't hard enough before he got the power of death..." He reached out his arm and scratched his back in a nervous gesture.
"It's not a burden you would wish to carry." She stared at her hand, letting out a small jolt into the air. It evaporated with a slight crackle. "It means nothing of a person having them or not." He stared at her hand, first surprised, then amazed.
"Wow! How do you even... I... How?" He was speechless. "How does it feel? I know it pains my father, he does not know if it was given to him by the Dark One or our gods." She turned her gaze back at him.
"It hurts, and it's Dark, undoubtedly so. But Dark is not an evil unless used for Dark deeds. Who could appreciate or live in the Light if there was no Dark? Wouldn't the Dark One still be evil if he shielded his minions from harm? I do not know what power over death runs in your family, but it's your intentions that matters the most."
"I do not know either, but I guess in these times we should be thankful for every breather we get, no matter form it comes in." Eylinn smiled again.
"Like this feast?" He stared at her.
"This reminds me, while I still have courage and before we head to battle again. There is one thing I want to remember in case I fall."
"And what is th... Hnnnnggh!" Freyr had grabbed Eylinn by the shoulders, and proceeded with pressing his lips against hers. She raised her arms backwards, palms forward, at loss on how to react. She could smell his sweat, but it wasn’t bad. His breath was warm, and the soft sensation of his skin left her numb. When done, he pulled away his face, leaving Eylinn staring as he walked away with proud steps. She could hear his pace increase to a sprint as he disappeared through the door from the balcony. She was shocked, left paralyzed in the same posture she had assumed at his closing. Her heart was racing, more from surprise than anything else. “Your first kiss.” No it wasn’t, but she had decided it would be so. It could have been worse. She covered her mouth and started walking towards her room.