This entire endeavor was suicidal. Yet here she sat under the autumnal leaves of a willow tree at the edge of the boglands, trying to strip the bark off a hefty solid branch to make herself some sort of staff to use as a weapon. Her fingers stiff from being chilled to the bone, due to her own regretful lack of skill in things even as simple as building a fire.
Definitely suicidal.
However, Princess Araminta, now the single surviving heir to the mountain kingdom of Caeldalmor felt taking on the Imperial Queen’s insane trials a far better prospect than becoming a token bride to the Queen’s son, sealing the fate of Caeldalmor as the 13th conquest to the Empire.
Araminta let out a frustrated huff as her fingers slipped and she scraped her knuckle on the rough bark of her branch. Leaning back against the willow, she set her dark green eyes towards the treeline that marked the very edges of the boglands. Where sun was slowly setting and casting the scenery to twilight hues, and late season fireflies were starting to make their slow blinking amongst the bushes. In the morning she would have to trek into the bog itself for the first trial of twelve insane tasks prattled off by the Imperial Queen to save a kingdom, that Araminta wasn’t even sure was still there anymore.
This trial was a show of bullshit, in Araminta’s opinion. This Imperial Queen made a grand speech in front of her council of kingdoms, flaunting her benevolence of giving aid to the poor bedraggled princess that, frankly, had spent weeks fighting to even get an audience with the woman in the first place. Twelve nations with enough resources and a large enough collective army that riding out to the mountains to re-open the mountain pass and chase off the creatures that invaded her humble nation would’ve been nothing to them. Easy.
They could even take it from Araminta, if they so wanted. After all, what did she have now herself? Araminta had no army, had no guard… honestly, the princess wasn’t even sure if there was a country left to go back to. She’d seen her family die there in the first invasion and then lost the few people that managed to make it out of the mountains with her. This Imperial Queen was giving her the illusion of a choice, so that she herself might appear to be a savior instead of the conqueror. Though Araminta knew little about the world, she was certain the other kingdoms had also been manipulated into the Empire.
The woman couldn’t force Araminta to give her consent through marriage, so why not send her on an impossible quest. A princess (well, perhaps Araminta was now a Queen herself, she grimly thought), that knew nothing of anything beyond musics and arts. No practical skills in fighting, or travel, or politics, or even plain and simple survival. Sent off on her first trial without even an ounce of help or support–
Well. No. The Queen mentioned a witness of sorts. To prove Araminta herself completed the trials. But the princess hadn’t waited to see who or what this witness would be. The moment she’d been given her first trial and the map to find it, she’d left with no further expectations of aid. They knew this was a fool’s quest just as much as she did, and she had no desire to have someone watching her from the sidelines to see how long it took her to die.
At least she was going to die trying something. With the tiniest glimmer of hope that maybe she was fae-touched with luck. That maybe she had survived this far against all odds, that she could last just that little bit longer to get the help she needed to dig open the mountain pass, bring an army, and by the grace of the gods still find people of Caeldalmor still alive.
For now she just needed to not freeze to death in the night.
She must not survive.
The very words rang like church bells within his thoughts. Loud and imposing. The very words that he might as well describe the very queen herself. For there was no diminutive nature about the very she-beast that rested herself upon the throne. Claw like nails arched upon the armrests, refusing to ever be driven from its place. Though he could not think of many that would even attempt to unrest the very Imperial Queen from the spot. As if the throne had been her very burden and reward all at once.
This would hardly be the first time that she demanded such loyalty. Hardly the last, either.
You’d think at this point by the colour of his hand, he’d proven plenty to the very being that his efforts to secure her placement and his own, were not to be tested further. However, he felt it each time she made the grating demands. Acting as the voice and strings to his puppeteered body. Perhaps once upon a time, he felt loathing at her hungry actions. Now? They were as common as breathing. Hardly worth the effort of picking part any unsound logic.
The idea that she had sentence the insignificant princess to such trials, one might think that the queen stressed that the girl might be able to do anything at all. Rather than humouring her and taking her as promised hostage. Made pretty at her side but reminded daily that the Imperial Queen’s benevolence was merely a silk noose. Tightened slowly every day till the girl was little more than a pretty full-size doll. Played with till boredom struck and his queen, his very mother, tossed the girl away. No more than a rag unfit to be made into something useful.
If he had cared to consider his placement, he might have wondered what use it was for him to follow along anyways. The trials weren’t known to be particularly easy. Quite the opposite. They were notoriously deadly! He’d dare say veteran warriors themselves would be highly unlikely to best half of the trials, let alone one. Yet, without a thought –or it seemed so- the queen merely accepted the girl to be tossed to the idea. Although would he complain that this had been the choice over the idea of being thrust into a political marriage that was likely to end the very same night. Having no doubts that there would have come an order to slaughter the princess within her own bridal gown. With lunacy of suggestion at the white ribbon heels.
He could hear it in his thoughts as he walked along the humid air. A princess from a fallen kingdom, so struck with grief that she took her own life on the very night of a wedding. It was so cliché that he almost found it worth a empty laugh.
If he hadn’t known any better, he dare say his mother had become paranoid. Trusting not the trials to do their job by rendering the girl’s life forfeit, but assuring it happened. By happenstance or blade itself.
Theon frowned as the means of cowl crowned head looked onwards. Settling gaze of gray along the way, appreciating that he had chosen not to wear anything remarkably heavy this day. Suited with light leather armor and thin cloak to keep the swamp flies from landing on bared skin, a part of him merely hoped the damn girl fell into a pool of fetid water. To be a blessed dinner for some hungry beast rather than waste his efforts of parting head from neck. So far, he hadn’t come across any sort of noticeable fumble that would suggest as such. Though perhaps he ought not to be surprised. She did survive the fall of her kingdom after all.
Whatever tenacious Greater God was watching, the princess was surely living on borrowed time.
Araminta’s awareness of her surroundings were born out of desperation and fear, so that when the birds and bugs of the bog suddenly made a chatter and went quieter, she froze stock still in her seat under the willow and listened harder. Unknowing what sort of footsteps were drawing closer, she snatched up the branch she’d been working on and oh so delicately tip toed and slinked in her worn out old boots until she was out of sight. Holding her breath until she could see what matter of man or beast was daring to approach the bog. Letting out a soft relieved breath to find it wasn’t one of the demonic beasts that now haunted her nightmares, but a person.
Still, a person could not be trusted either just at a glance.
Waiting until he passed far enough by her, she finally scuttled out of her hiding place, huffing a loud Hey! to catch his attention and holding her branch up like a waiting bat ready to swing it at him should he make any sudden movements. The hefty stick seeming as if she’d picked it up on her way walking, still half covered in bark and rugged knobs where she’d snapped off the extra branches. Having lost her fine gown of embroidered silk weeks ago to blood and gore, she now wore a tattered ensemble of humble travelers clothes. A loose hooded cowl covered what appeared to be coal black hair messily braided underneath and she regarded him with the most suspicious expression she could muster from eyes such a dark green as a mountain fir.
She walked a bit awkwardly, as if she didn’t quite trust putting all of her weight onto her feet, but she appeared to be more than ready to tussle even despite the way she held her breath.
Most importantly, she was still very much alive.
“Who are you?” she demanded to know. No one sane would want to venture out into the bogs, though he could’ve been a hunter. Araminta couldn’t be sure. “Are you the Queen’s witness?”
Araminta should’ve considered that first. Naturally someone would be sent out to make extra sure Araminta was on the level. Still, she didn’t lower her chosen weapon, just in case.
Somewhere his thoughts suggested caution. Although the rest of himself hardly could strum up the ounce of consideration even as the woman made her arrangement to slip behind him. Holding what looked to be some sort of primitive attempt at a weapon that would be better used for some pathetic bandit. Driven to desperation and grabbing the first thing within reach!
She was clearly unaccustomed to the world of cruelties even after so much destruction. Rather than laying in hiding to potentially glean whom or what had entered the area, she came to bare herself. Looking no more than muddy ragamuffin instead of esteemed royal of once upon a time. Yet, he stopped at her bidding to arrange the cool stare across shoulder. Appraising her silently before turning with palm coming to push against the left side of hip.
Moving the motion of cloak to bare the pommel of sword but not quite readying palm to snatch it from its protective sheath. Rather simply showing that her means of branch was a paltry weapon compared to folded steel.
Was this dirty looking mongrel the thing his queen feared? Or was it merely a thought to remove a problem before it had a chance to turn into one?
Whatever she was thinking, he didn’t fathom. Nor did he truly care to put in the effort of doing so either. Merely assessing the ebon crowned beastly woman with a slight tip to bearded jaw. Agreeing that he –for all intents and purposes- was the witness. And her executioner.
“I see,” she responded slowly, still not lowering her branch. The thing was as tall as she was, which wasn’t very tall at all if she were honest, but it could reach far enough to swipe at him if she must. Perhaps even far enough out of swinging reach of that sword of his. Other than the barest of nods, his face was so impassively unreadable. Just a blank slate of stone, as cool and hard as those gray eyes of his. Nor did he say a word.
So that was how it was then. A ghostly reaper here to watch her final hours!
“Alright, then…” she acquiesced, finally lowering her branch-turned-staff as her countenance dropped to something of a defeated sort of stance. Somehow, she was furious he was even there at all, but what was she to do about it? Shout at him and send him back to his vicious pretend-nice Queen with a scathing message the woman would likely toss into a fire without ever bothering to read? He wasn’t to blame in this, he was just another soul trapped in this nonsense of a quest.
“I’ll try to make it quick, so you can at least be back by dawn,” she mumbled. Araminta stepped back to the willow tree to scoop up a small bag she’d brought with her. Really, it was all her possessions left in the world at this point! A sack of meager supplies she’d managed to trade for and enough food to last her a food days if she ate as little as possible. There was her signet ring as well, the only proof she had of being born royal blood of Caeldalmor, but that precious piece of gold was stashed away in a hidden pocket.
Without waiting for him, she led the way deeper into the bog, trying to mind where she placed her steps to find more solid places of walking so she wouldn’t slip of tumble into murky waters. Without someone staring down her back, Araminta would’ve preferred waiting until morning where she could see better, but maybe this was for the best. A faster end for them both to be sure!
“I don’t have a lantern,” she apologized, steadily making her way over a fallen log and using her make-shift weapon now as a means of balance. “Though, I am worried light would just bring me a great deal more trouble than I am prepared for. If you get into trouble you could scream for me — if you can.”
The look she shot over her shoulder at him suggested she wasn’t so sure if he could speak at all!
There was little reason to start growing them into a conversation. He was here to firstly observe her, which thus far had proven nothing spectacular. The girl was worn and looking the part of ready to turn barbarian if necessary. Hardly what one would think had been a presiding daughter of gold and jewels. Surely she would be no more fit to be that of a nobleman’s maid, than some random urchin on the cobblestone streets. If she was lucky.
If there was one thing he knew about those born with a golden spoon in their mouths, when they fell; they knew absolutely nothing. Far more prone to death or baser duties that resulted in diseases that one would hope killed them off faster than not.
Side-stepping as she spoke up about attempting to make this quick, a niggling notion fought to be had. To raise brows at her but staved off the motion less he express any sort of interest in either her or commentary. Merely settling to observe as a living statue while she seemed to wander not too far away to gather up that of a small bag. Till it seemed she was ready to dare her footing once more.
Allowing him to consider the ground that could be rather spongy when one didn’t know what to expect. Often confusing the differences between a bog, a marsh, a fen and a swamp between another. Not that it mattered at the end if one was set to die!
Rotating posture to stabilize footing to follow a good arm and a half length behind her, it seemed she was prone to speaking. Unsure if that was an attempt to goad him into replying or if she had gone so long without another person around that she would take any chance at all to use her voice; Theon merely lifted chin towards her. Slowly deviating to the density of shadow licking all around without a source of light, before returning it to the fallen dame. Till she suggested if trouble occurred that he might be able to scream. Searching for chance to learn if he was the silent observer or one made eternally hushed.
Where green eyes crossed slender shoulder, his own met beneath that shaded cowl. Sentient, intelligent but still favouring chosen silence. Lifting hand to make a generalized motion that she ought to watch her footing rather than watching him.
Mentally debating if there was any use to using innate gifts or not, deciding to forgo expressing use of the enflamed talents of himself. It wouldn’t be of any use to express bloodlines anyways.
Nothing. Just a flick of his hand for her to continue on with her own business. Worse yet, she couldn’t even tell if it was gesturing for her to be more careful were she was going, or if it was meant to be dismissive. To mind her own and leave him be.
“You’re a charming companion…” she muttered under her breath to herself. If he didn’t want to waste time with words to a walking dead woman, then that was his prerogative. Araminta tried to imagine what she’d do or say if she were in his position… but that didn’t help her much. Araminta would’ve never made a refugee beg for help, nor force them into impossible choices. She certainly wouldn’t send them away on impossible quests in exchange for life saving aid. She would never follow someone on an insane quest as a silent spectator, a grim messenger of death.
Princess Araminta decided to leave him be and ignore him completely. Silently, in her head, she’d named him The Ghost and it brought her a brief bit of private amusement.
What she wasn’t keen on was the strange way the ground squished and move under her feet. Almost like floating islands of brownish green. She’d found out very quickly by means of nearly taking a sinking tumble, that the dark brown spots would sink her down quickly. Araminta took to using her makeshift staff to test patches before she’d walk on them, sticking to the deep green areas that didn’t move about so much or start drifting away like tiny canoes on a river. There were very few trees out there in the actual bog, leaving Araminta quite confused on how she was supposed to find a nest when, at least as far as she could see, there was nothing but flat peat and a few stray bushes.
Where would one find a bog hag’s nest, anyway? What did a bog hag even look like! She’d imagined some old crone with wild hair and a tiny little house. Yet there was nothing out here at all and the sun was quickly sinking down below the horizon, leaving nothing but moonlight and the slowly passing fireflies behind.
With an alarming realization, she suspected the hags might be under all this floating peat itself in the unknown depths of muddy waters below it. So as she walked, Araminta started watching her feet very carefully, looking around her for anything that seemed out of place.
Occasionally she’d cast a glance behind to see if her silent companion was still there, or if he himself had sank and never uttered a peep about his demise.
After a moment of what he considered had to be observational staring from her –most likely attempting to figure out what or who he was in a sense- she hadn’t tarried long. Moving forward to begin this means of carrying on this ludicrous endeavour. Leaving him to watch her from the created distance as if to bare witness to what sort of prowess she had. Or lacked.
Mentally checking his thoughts for anything of particular use when it came to the princess. Her former homeland. The kingdom she herald from and unsurprisingly found very little use of anything. At least not on a demanded mental whim!
Having to settle with merely assuming such information by mere looks alone. Finding that after a little bit, she proved to notice how the bog made the ground particularly hazardous. Weak and spongy, far more likely to grab one by the foot and slurp them down if they weren’t careful. Yet she proved to be somewhat intelligent. Soon poking the earth to check if it was unstable with no more than the stick.
Just he didn’t suspect she knew what she was looking for either.
Granted when one was given the trials, it wasn’t as if they were given detailed instructions. The vaguer, the better.
As the sunlight began to dip allowing little more than argent moonbeams to fall from the heavens, he took to sidestepping. Not about to explain that he may know a little more about this bog than most. Stepping about to move somewhat further from the woman so he could come to stand ahead. Shortly letting ember come to life by the palm of hand to act as living lamp post. Raising the knife bright eyes to consider her with other palm raising to point towards the direction be thought best to go. Of course, if the old crone did not wish to be found, then she wouldn’t be. But he could give a bit of a direction by ethereal feelings, after all, maybe he was slacking. Preferring not to waste his effort by killing if either the environment could or another being might.
Araminta lost sight of her silent companion at some point, not sure if he’d sank into the bog or if he’d decided to abandon her after all. For the briefest of moments it left her with a terrifying jolt, to think she was alone out here, and soon too to die alone… at least until she spied the warm red glow of flames far ahead of her.
She blinked in confusion, taking a few steady steps towards it until she recognized that stoic face, basked in the light of his little fire. Oh! So he could have provided them with light the entire time! She let out a huff of frustration, her green eyed gaze watching the direction his free hand gestured to. Finding herself filled with the smallest sense of relief. So there was a piece of kindness in him, a willingness to offer her some guidance even if he could not directly help. Knowing this gave her a boost of renewed hope, a bolstered sense of confidence that this task might not be entirely impossible.
With his hinted direction and a better sense of how the bog moved, Araminta’s trek was much faster. Hopping along on the steadier pieces of ground as she searched the landscape. Until a sudden wave of movement under the peat brought her to a freezing stop. As if somethin was swimming hard and fast down below and displacing the ground like waves of water! Whatever it was shot off into the distance, bringing her attention to something poking up from the ground itself. Far more solid than any spindle bush, it resembled a human arm and round head trying to climb up out of the murky depth.
A sharp intake of breath heralding the movement of her feet again as she dashed across the squishy islands towards the figure, finding as she got closer, it truly was a human form there trapped in the water. On reaching it, Araminta dropped to her knees with a squelch in the mud, muttering a soft I’ve got you as she grabbed ahold of their sopping wet tunic to pull them up– only to find herself face to face with a mortified body with empty eyes and a muck filled mouth.
Letting out a startled yelp, she fell backwards on her arse, staring at the bloated dead body, that could only float there and stare back. The arm and hand attached to it was clinging desperately to a small knife stuck in the peat. They’d must’ve tried to climb out of the muck and never made it.
This was not how she wanted to die.
“I am so sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry…” she whispered on repeat, gingerly crawling back to the person and with shaking hands pried their brittle fingers off the knife. Once loose, she watched the body slowly start sinking back into the mud. Bubbles, blurp, blurp, blurping up until they disappeared.
Araminta pulled the knife up out of the peat and turned it in her hands. It was a meager, simply made little thing, but she hadn’t had a knife before and now she did. Pale and shaking, she rose back up to her feet, seeing if that moving underwater thing was still out there… and if it had led her here on purpose.
“Hel- …Hello? Are there any hags out here?” she called out meekly. It might not have been the best of things, but she’d never met a hag before, what did she know of trying to find them! “There is just me and the Ghost! I- I have. Ah… I just have a little request?”
Was that amusement? Bubbling up at her rather desperate attempt to save an already rotting corpse, or was it just the fact that she had gone so quickly to aid another with next to no consideration for herself, that turned his internals to bemusement. Watching from the sidelines as the princess was shortly met with no reward of saving a life but rather meeting the face of one who had already succumb to such a miserable end. Getting a look of how things could easily end for herself. Especially if she was just going to rush headlong into anything that looked like it needed assistance!
Liable to be the perfect bait for a hungry predator, that much was certain.
With the flame kept aglow within palm, he observed her foolhardy efforts. Only to come back with less of a person and more of a paltry knife. Appearing to be no better to scrape butter across bread than to stab someone, head lifted to consider their deepening location. Unable to feel anything particularly out of place, the girl shortly began to call out.
“I would suggest not calling the lady of the bog, a hag to her face.” He mumbled finally, loud enough to be heard but certainly not yelling. A low timbre that might as well been best described as unused. For he didn’t have much of a habit speaking to anyone, anyways.
Ah, he could speak after all. Such humbling words, too, as Araminta found herself flushing red. He was right, she ought to choose her words more carefully if she knew nothing of this creature.
“My apologies to all ladies of the bog,” she corrected quickly, a little louder and with a little more intent to her voice. Turning slowly to see if anything or anyone was going to acknowledge her address.
No voices replied, but that swoosh under the peat shot across the bog again. Sealing her fear that there was indeed something out there circling like a shark waiting in shallow waters. Araminta prayed these were shallow waters!
Eying her newly acquired knife again, to turn it about in her hands, Araminta then tucked it into her belt behind her back. She then quickly checked the contents of her bag until she found the tiny little wrapped sandwich inside. It wasn’t more than a couple pieces of stale buttered bread and a thin slice of cheese, but she had very little in terms of trade.
And it would have to be a trade. There was no way Araminta would be able to KILL a bog hag. She didn’t even want to if she could.
With wrapped sandwich pulled out, she glanced back the way they’d came, took her bag and swung it as far as she could to landed safely on th floating peat at a good distance. Last thing she needed was the rest of her food covered in muck should this attempt go sideways. It also helped to know what direction to run in, as well, when it came time to leave.
“I know that you’re out here listening,” she continued towards the darkness of the bog. “Would you like a sandwich? I didn’t come to cause you trouble, and it’s all I have?”
The ground moved as a rolling wave several times in many directions as Araminta waited with baited breath. In the distance a rounded head of something popped up, this time very obviously alive with the way the eyes glowed a reflective gold from her Ghost’s handheld flame. They blinked slow yet made no further movements. Just stared. Stared right through Princess Araminta’s shuddering heart!
Araminta shot her companion a startled glance, but said nothing. Choosing instead to take a few unsteady steps forward towards the bobbing head and swallow that lump in her throat. The thing wasn’t screeching or coming to attack them, so it must be a good sign?
In a manner of seconds the girl proved that she was innocent. In the sort of way that a doe was in the middle of a glade. A thing that lived with the expectation that nothing terrible was to ever happen. But failing to understand that the world around was dangerously unforgiving. No matter how genuine one’s gentle nature could be, they were all meat to another. In this case, this princess Araminta was just a naïve little girl that had stumbled into a unseen cauldron ready to cook her alive. All the while, lending false hope that any of this could be saved.
So why did the Imperial Queen care? Someone this doe-eyed was likely to choke on her own tongue! Let alone complete anything frightening or problematic.
He’d been tasked with severing those of troubling existences before. This… didn’t strike him as one of those vital tasks that ought to be given such a heavy handed effort. Especially as the girl made an effort to apologize to the world around her. Adding to that look that she truly was just a green daughter of a land that was no more.
It would be rather easy to turn away now and leave her in the dark. However, there was no promise that the job would be finished if he did so. One had to make sure with his own eyes that the sloe crowned being was left with not a single beat in their chest. Making his existence here rather fitting for the name that he assumed she associated with him.
Ghost. It was applicable.
Especially since whatever, Araminta was doing now, it only continued to paint this image of this lost little girl from a fairytale attempting to bribe the animal life into agreeing to a truce. For what purpose, well that would have to be seen.
Which apparently by the way the earth moved near her to eventually give life to shadowed appearance of head, he had to offer a bit more interest. Adjusting cowl somewhat to look out from all the more to consider the sight.
Of a girl offering a sandwich to a creature of the bog.
Either she was about to be incredibly lucky with her innocence, or incredibly dead.
How big were bog hags, Araminta wondered? The closer she drew to this bobbing head in the murky water, the larger it seemed. At least twice her own to be certain. The eyes she had difficulty gauging as well, with the fire’s light they only had that animalistic glow to them. Eyes and brows were her only window to see if this hag – lady? – was listening or angry. And all she was getting was a face devoid of all emotion, much like the Ghost that was standing witness nearby.
“Hello,” she said gently again, approaching within an arm’s reach of the thing. Golden eyes blinked at her – outside lids and inner lids – and Araminta blinked back. “I don’t want to disturb you, but I need a lock of your hair.” she explained softly. Her voice wavered slightly, but she tried to keep her hammering heart inside her chest where it belonged.
Unwrapping the sandwich completely, she offered it.
“This is all I have. If you let me take a lock of hair, you may have it?”
Araminta waited. And waited. And waited. Seeming to have a blinking staring contest with this woman mostly obscured by the bog waters. Finally a long, pale green arm hand and connected arm reached upwards towards the offering. Only for Araminta to pull it back.
“For a lock of your hair. May I?” she repeated, stressed it even to make sure this creature understood the exchange.
It actually nodded.
Blessed be, Araminta could’ve cheered! Too afraid to spook this bog hag with any sudden movements, she finally allowed the sandwich to be taken. Then with the most gentle of fluid shifting, she crawled her way around on the floating peat while the creature rose just enough above water to take a testing bite of the sandwich. She pulled the newly acquired knife from her belt and though it was a bit dull, Araminta very delicately lifted a few strands of the hag’s sodden hair and with as quick of a sawing motion as she could without tugging, cut a fistful of the greenish black strands.
She did it! She couldn’t believe that she did it!
Yet in a split second that joy was short lived. From behind another had risen out of the muck. Rising, rising, rising, a formidable frightening looking crone of pale greenish skin and bones. A giant gapping maw of tongue and teeth. A wet, cold hand landed on Araminta’s shoulder. No sandwich was offered to this lurking hag.
The princess let out a startled scream as she was dragged downwards and disappeared entirely under the floating peat!
He was about to be truly flabbergasted by the sheer dumb luck that was unraveling before his eyes. Warranting a few blinks and curious tilts of his head when observing this petite being making a bargain over a sandwich for some hair strands. Not only that, but succeeding.
Boggling the mind enough to straighten his back from its mindlessly bend, to watch. To bare witness as to what was perhaps the suggestion of his presence here as the girl originally asked. Just that it would seem that things weren’t about to be so impressively gobsmacking! Considering there was a third party in the water that may not have liked the idea that they were not included in making this deal over something so trivial. Not that he was about to stand here and think about what sort of things bog related creatures feuded about!
Just that as the princess took the hair from one, another decided that such things were unfair. Resulting in something that seemed more fitting.
With a scream and body being plucked away from the ground, he felt the dark brows lift on his forehead. Curiosity sparking to at least lean forward without actually making an unwise decision to go wandering over to where she had once stood. Plenty able to have heard the water splashing about from her impromptu descent into the surface. Alongside the other creature.
“Hmm.” Sounds escaped and he felt a small niggling of sympathy pressing at his chest. Dwarfed by emotionless care before turning seemingly without much worry away. Taking the projection of light with, after all, his job here had been to assure the girl was not to live. If she survived that, well… then surely whatever god was watching her, would not fumble so easily in any other regard. ‘Should have died alongside the rest of your flock, princess.’ The thought mumbled through his skull, daring a bare look across shoulder out of odd curiosity. An almost uncharacteristic behaviour for him.
The peat bobbed and moved from the flurry of motion underneath. The one hag finishing her treat before disappearing below the murk. Distinctly two separate forms shifted below zooming off in different directions. Both hags, it was easy to assume. Having each won a treat of their own.
Then it was peaceful, still silence.
Until there was a sudden gasping splash at the opposite side of him. Coughing and choking, Araminta scrambled for purchase on the moving peat! One fist fully closed with that handful of hair, and if she’d just let it go it might’ve made it easier for her to pull herself out of the muddy waters. Instead she stubbornly clenched it, flinging her other arm with dull knife in hand into the peat, letting out an anguished sort of cry as she struggled and scrambled to pull herself out. Eventually getting a leg up and over the tipping island and then rolling herself onto squishy ground. Her cowl was completely gone, leaving her long coal braid exposed, revealing the thin long sleeved shirt she’d worn underneath the hooded cloak. Hinting that she’d wiggled right out of her clothes to escape the hag’s grip!
Still coughing and surely choking up and spitting out mouthfuls of bitter bog water, with blurry eyes she glanced around frantically. Managing to find his form by light of the moon beaming down, and then searching with a desperate squint for where she’d originally started.
In a wobbling instant Araminta pushed herself up to her feet and made a mad flailing dash for the make-shift staff she’d set down on giving the hag her lunch. Too much work had been put into it already for her to leave it behind now. Knife tucked into her belt again, she stooped only for a moment to snatch up her staff and then it was a stumbling wild run for where she’d tossed her bag. Her beacon of where’d they’d come from and how to get out of this blasted bog.
Princess Araminta didn’t dare look back to see if he followed, even when she’d nearly misstepped and almost toppled back into the bog. Fearing he wouldn’t be the only one there, but hungry, jealous bog wenches chasing her as well.
Lesson learned well! Bring enough for everyone or make a different offer!
You’d think that a great spirit had emerged with holy flames licking up their backside with how swiftly he was overcome by another. Drawing to pause and offering a mystified awe upon features. Merely missing the task of departing the cowl from covering his head to gawp at the respawned girl rushing by! Wondering idly if perhaps she shared the livelihood of a cat, to consider how many lives she had!
For he had been certain that the hag had been plenty satisfied with tugging the fallen royal into the boggy depths. Only, that now he had been proven incorrect. Left temporarily standing there no more than a bump on a log as her back begun to grow smaller and smaller with hasty departure.
Leaving Theon to actually glance backwards. In case the bog hags had mustered up a small army to give chase.
Perhaps he had been too quick to judge. Assuming the girl too frail and pitiful to manage a feat such as she had! Colour him unusually intrigued. So much so that his feet lead on shortly to follow along. Casting light all the more from palm that did well to keep the flaming spell alive. Flickering and twisting with breaths of air passing by while the smell of the bog lightly dampened with each step away. Passing more light from the heavens rather than the seemingly unnatural emersion that had been the mushy grounds of dead, dying and questionable things.
He’d only slow his advance whenever he noticed the girl. To offer curious steely eyes in obvious wonder to her feat, while he felt an odd compulsion to pull the means of cloth from the underside of singular pauldron. An unmarked handkerchief that was draped on fingers in holding out, “One task finished.” Theon stated as if the girl needed some sort of verbal awareness to that!
Araminta had ran with more stamina than even she thought she had in her, until the bog was left behind and she was back on solid ground, near that very willow from where she started. In an instant she’d collapsed to her knees on the ground, pulling over her bag to dig inside until she produced a tiny glass vile. Popping the cork off to stuff the lock of hair inside and sealing it up tight. Staring at the bottle in her hands, mystified she’d even managed to acquire it in the first place. The task hadn’t been too difficult… but even she knew she’d gotten out of that by the literal cloak on her back. The next trial would not be so simple.
His voice had her doing a quick startled blink and glance up to the dangled handkerchief, somewhere in the moment having forgotten he was there at all. After placing the glass bottle into her bag, she gingerly took the offered handkerchief with a softly murmured thank you, and attempted to clear off the mud and muck from her face.
The mess that came off on the soft white fabric was telling. As she glanced down at herself, in all of her sopping wet and muddy glory, Araminta grimaced. She must’ve looked like a bog hag herself now, and smelled of one too! The hankie did little beyond at least drying her face, before she took to prying springs of wet root out of her hair and needing to unbraid it to remove all the twigs and leaves that were now tangled within. She was still huffing and puffing quite a bit, with that bitter taste of bog in her mouth, and shivering in the night air, but at least she was alive!
Once she’d gotten her hair free of boggy debris, Araminta pulled a map out of her bag to spread across the ground.
“Faster than I thought too,” she admitted without looking up at him. “Maybe if I walk fast all night, I might at least get half way to the next by dawn.”
Then she paused, glancing up at him again with a thoughtful expression as she eyed his person from head down to toes.
“…though if you are to continue to ghost, you’ll need rest. We could camp here or walk to the next Inn. I can’t afford a room, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have one.”
Any gentleman worth his salt would have taking strong pity on the girl. Now relieved of her cloak while looking a frightful mess of wet hair, twigs and a certain pungency to her, all he did was offer a handkerchief. Not about to elude that he was one of those gentlemen anyways!
Simply staring at her even as she did her best to clean up while he was honestly trying to pick at his brain to how in the damn’s world she managed to get the hair from one of the occupants and survive another. Evidently with a slip of clothing but still! It was mildly impressed but mostly shocked at how it all unfolded. Sure that she had some sort of good luck charm that was coming in particularly clutch at this very moment.
Who knew being at witness would prove to be very much a spectacle. Knowing now that she had failed to surrender to the beastly witch of the waters, he ought to take sword to finalize this moment. Yet…
Yet—
He was highly intrigued. It was a rubbish sensation by all accounts. However here he stood. Watching her pull bits of wood from her crown till fishing that of a map from the dry and safe bag that had been wisely tossed aside originally.
To where the stare of his own followed to obtain a bird’s eye view of the map whilst Araminta spoke in reply that she was sounding surprised she had managed the first task so quickly. Locating that cynical part of him that knew that if this was considered swift, then the rest of the trails were going to surely devour her alive. Moreover he was shortly distracted by her mentioning walking all night. His thoughts scoffing internally while face remained impassive. Doubtful she ought to be so careless when she would need wits and strength to make such ventures. Each trial was more difficult than the last after all. Rushing headlong on little rest was, for all intents and purposes, stupid.
He wasn’t about to vocalize that.
Instead he’d meet her eye when she looked up at him. Sufficiently crackling his deadpan expression to furrow his brows at her. At the innocence muttered.
Feeling a strong sensation to almost mock her purity but settled for not doing so. Instead, pointing forward. “It is not I who needs rest. I am a witness, not the trail taker.” Merely reminding her that he wasn’t there to help her in such things. It would be advantageous for her to be wise to her own mortality. Just that he would rotate and start to walk away indicating that he might be up to something. Likely to set camp up in a space that was wooden seeing as he was not in the idea of making a place of sparse trees become a wild fire. Nor was he about to go wandering to the nearest town for an inn. Having no desire to be catered too –although unlikely- nor wishing to be involved with the public currently.
“Hasten.” A word was dropped over his shoulder. “Less you chill.”
At least he was talking now, Araminta thought. Even if he was very much shaping up to be a man of few to zero words. She still hadn’t figured out if it was because he was naturally a silent person, or if he was simply trying to keep a personal distance from her. It was easy to imagine that baring witness to trials like these could be heavy on one’s heart if you let yourself get attached to someone only for them to shortly die afterwards.
Araminta was absolutely going to die. She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.
Frowning slightly at his retreating form, she quickly rolled her map back up and stuff it inside her bag. Gathering everything back into her arms, Araminta returned to her and did her best to catch up to his pace. Finding that now all the adrenaline had worn off that she was feeling quite heavy and a little queasy to the stomach.
Now on solid ground, that slight limp to her step was more noticeable, though it was disguised well with the way she used her tall branch-turned-staff to balance her weight. There came no complaints about his pace, nor the way her body ached. In fact all of her attention had zeroed in on her new ghost of a companion, now that she was no longer fretting about the first of her tasks.
“It’s kind of you to suggest rest for me, but I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference. I swallowed half the bog, I’m surely going be a hag by morning and you’ll have to toss me in the nearest river.” The way her stomach was churning, it had to be true. How else did new bog hags come to be?
It was a subtle movement but one all the same. Turning sight to cross once more over that of shoulder to the girl hobbling silently with her makeshift cane. Speaking up in such a way that he was sure it had to be some deliberate act.
If it was not, his mind couldn’t fathom how something this gentle managed to live at all. The sort that would be sooner made into vulture food than not. Yet, she spoke and made some nonsense suggestion that it was kind for him to suggest she ought to rest. Feeling the tension behind his stare wanting to glower in disbelief at her. Unsure if it was because she was trying to be sweet or if it was the nonsense statement of thinking she would become a hag come morning.
Theon could have rolled his eyes, honestly. “It would be too easy to die in such trials if that could happen.”
Surely they would be overrun with hags if that were the case. For the bottom of such a place likely had more humanoid bones than one could think! “Focus on rest. Then your next trial.”
He was funny. Not intentionally, of course. Just that, he didn’t seem to appreciate her cavalier comments on her own inevitable demise, casting her such stony serious expressions as if he were barely restraining his shock. It took a great deal of Araminta’s own willpower to not smile. Knowing, he likely thought her a complete fool already for not taking the easy option of a marriage and being all too willing to throw herself as a sacrifice to these maniacal trials. He’d probably be scandalized to hear her opinions and impressions about the Imperial Queen, and that she suspected a marriage was just as likely to end in a swift death.
At least with the trials, Araminta got to decide when and how she perished. It sure wouldn’t be at the hands of some evil power mad prince and his sinister mother!
“Focusing on rest seems a dangerous route itself. I may lay down and deem it best not to get back up again,” she rejoined. Finding the gentle tease amusing. Maybe it was strange she had humor left in her at all, but Araminta had already cried so many tears, if she couldn’t find something else to keep her going, then she was at risk of dropping to the ground somewhere and truly would not get back up. If there was even the slightest sliver of a chance that there was something left of Caeldalmor, Araminta had to find ways to keep going and find her way back.
“I’ve already considered my next trial in any case. If I can manage to get my hands on entire roasted turkey, I’ll have half of it solved already.”
Lids closed with a low hum at the very notion that if she were to lay down, she may not get back up. Honestly, it would be in her best interest to do so. His mother was the type of opponent that would do whatever necessary to achieve whatever she wanted.
By any means.
No law, no honour, no morality and such would quake her resolve. Surely this girl must know that. In some sense, at least. That regardless of what happened here today or tomorrow, she was simply following the invisible rope to her own noose. Where either he or another would be her executioner at the end.
It might be the best idea to lay down and never get back up. But that was doubtful. She had already come this far from what must have been the endeavour already. Surviving the fall of her entire world in search of aid from a queen that looked and acted the part of generous caregiver. When in reality, the Imperial Queen would sooner see the girl butchered than even part her a chance to lick at imperial feet.
So why was he hesitating then?
It went both ways, did it not. How much easier it would be for Araminta to just give up and die, in his case it would have just been simple to have found her and ended it. Immediately. One sword draw would have been sufficient. Bringing back head to offer it as a token to his mother and revert back to the shadows for whatever order came next.
Was he curious that this was the girl that had omitted the means of marriage and sought death instead? Most likely not, but he was lingering on some sort of intrigue that made absolutely no sense to him. Searching for an answer that would not come.
Instead he lifted a hand. Rubbing index and thumb together to indicate her idea of a entire roasted turkey would require coin to do so. And for some reason he didn’t suspect her to be the sort that would run into someone’s house to steal one. Or to trap a turkey to cook herself. But he had been surprised so far, perhaps he shouldn’t assume.
He’d stop eventually in a partially more open spot. The star glinted heaven’s opened wide with next to no fluffy cloud cover. Before looking the way the bog had been. A dense presence on the scenery, till he was rotating gaze about on the ground. Kicking foot in a to and fro manner to scrape dirt up from grass. Once more summoning the flame to palm and unceremoniously letting it drop out of his hand as if it were slimy mud! Dripping down to the incredibly shallow dirt spot to where it pooled and crackled. With no fuel resource such as tinder, it’s dancing orange and red flutters emitted a fraction of heat. More light than warmth, he didn’t even bother to look at the girl. Merely took a three steps away and stood. Considering around then with an absent sort of acceptance.
“Hmn, true,” she murmured at his gesture of hand. Unless she was going to catch and cook a wild turkey herself (Araminta didn’t even know where wild turkeys lived, let alone have the resolve to kill one) she’d have to buy it. Which would be a problem considering she’d already spent the very last of her coin on the few items of food stashed in her bag. What few pieces of jewelry she had on her when they’d fled the collapsed mountain pass had already been sold off or traded long ago. All that remained was her signet ring, of which Araminta intended to hold on to until her demise as it was truly the only thing in the world she now had that was hers and from her homeland.
“…perhaps forest crab apple will do.” she thought out loud, curiously watching him kick up the dirt then light up that ball of flame in his hand only to pour it down like molten lava to form the most meager of campfires. What a useful thing magic could be! Wasn’t at all going to help her know how to make a fire herself in the long run, but at least tonight it would be nice to have something warm to sleep by.
Araminta wasted no time in dropping down next to the small flame, scooting as close as would be safely comfortable and setting her staff and bag behind her where it’d be out of flame’s reach. She glanced around her for a second, plucking up any small twigs that seemed dry enough and fed them to the flame, finding some comfort in the way they shortly crackled and popped. Then she took in a deep long breath and let it out slow, finding that heaviness washing down over her again. The oppressive weight of… everything. Just everything. Araminta was so very tired.
Leaning backwards until she fell flat, the princess stared up at the giant black sky and finding that it too was a comfort. Beautiful sparkling dots spread out across everywhere, just the same here in some foreign land as her own mountain home. The only thing she wasn’t keen on was the way her murk soaked clothes were starting to dry with an uncomfortable stiffness. Already plotting on what she might be willing to do in terms of tasks and jobs to get herself access to a bath and a new cloak, and if it would even be worth the time spent derailed from the trials.
“My name is Araminta, if they never told you. If you even wanted to know.” she announced to break the silence. He didn’t seem to like to speak, but that didn’t bother her much. “I don’t have anymore sandwiches, but I have some dried figs and toasted walnuts if you’re hungry? You didn’t bring much with you, so I guess we both thought I’d die a little faster.”
Was she intending to bribe every trial occupant with some sort of food? It was all he could surmise after a few minutes of trying to mentally digest the comment of forest crab apple. Deciding no sooner that he didn’t need to think about it. Pushing it aside and working on the barest bones of a source of light. Shortly turning to watch the princess scuttle closer to where she seemed to be –if he was seeing correctly- amused to be able to give the flame bits of twigs.
As if it were hungry.
But she eventually flopped over to where silence once more came to hold. Familiar to himself. And absent in a bit of time when the other began to make use of her mouth all the more. Warranting a tilt of attention yet again. Somewhat nodding to express he already knew who she was. It was hard not too at this point.
“You should worry for yourself.” Mouth parted to give words that were probably obvious even if she seemed far too concerned about noticing things about him. Or lack of. This was no merry trip for the two of them to depart upon. No quest taken up at a random tavern that would sew them together like a merry band of men. She had agreed to outlandish tasks and he was no more than the ever lurking vulture that was waiting for her demise. To report back about. “It would do you well to do so.” Tacking on that little chunk of info as if it was the bit of wisdom that a god might give!
And found him once more uncharacteristically doing something he normally wouldn’t.
Speaking.
“If you aren’t concerned about death, then why not give into the Imperial Queen’s former offering of marrying into her family.” He knew that also came with the same promise of ending but that damn curiosity was getting the better of him.
Having to be a witness truly did bother him, leaving Araminta with the ghost of a smile. Not at his discomfort with it, but that he must have a soft heart under his stoic exterior and the thought that he’d have to stand idly by for a second trial was eating him up inside. Maybe tomorrow she’d have to play up being fearless and recklessly stupid so he wouldn’t feel so bad!
Then he’d asked her why she hadn’t chose marriage and Araminta went a bit flushed in the face. She’d surmised by now that he must’ve been one of the Imperial Knights based on his armor and sword, so he’d likely be loyal to the Queen. If she told him the truth, he may very well get offended for the insult.
Actually, maybe that would be a good thing after all. If he didn’t like her, then he wouldn’t feel so guilty watching from the side lines.
“..when your Queen finally deemed me worthy of an audience, I could see it on the faces of her council. Her temperament is flawless and seems natural, but the ambassadors and royals from the twelve kingdoms couldn’t even look at me. She made her offer of marriage and they cringed. That was more telling than anything she could’ve said.”
Araminta would never forget how terribly cold and void of life it felt to be surrounded by all of those people and their smiling shining Queen! The woman so charming, well spoken and perfectly kind in every way… and somehow still frighteningly hollow. Those people were miserable puppets on a string, and Araminta couldn’t understand why no one was doing anything about it. Only being able to guess that this Imperial Queen was truly just that powerful that there was no way to refuse her.
“I don’t trust her. She’d give me to a son that’d smother me while I slept. I think I’d rather die by a hag or a troll, or anything I didn’t have to marry and kiss first!”
Well, she proved to be very vocal. Hoping somewhere absently that her reply might do well to quell whatever this insistent unfamiliar curiosity was. And perhaps, she would say something so insulting that it gave him perfect reason to withdraw blade to render lips to permanent silence.
…
But she didn’t.
At least nothing that emboldened his sense of shackled loyalty. Rather while his features remained perfectly unmoved, his head hummed on the inside. So she could tell that the other men and women that rested on the council of kingdoms, were little more than forced volunteers. That they too would cringe at the idea of someone being given a volunteered position of seat to be the Imperial Queen’s daughter. Short lived of course but one no less.
He knew why some of them cringed, of course. Practically able to still feel the slickened vermillion on palms because of invoked commands that assured their compliance.
After all, he was no stranger to death. To murder. Siblings of his own had been rendered much the same. Leaving him the last one standing. At least for now, eventually his own usefulness would come to an end, he was certain of that. Almost longing for it.
Manic private thoughts kept hushed, Theon rotated somewhat so the light of the magical flame could catch the profile of features. Feeling the scoff rolling inside his head with a actual bemusement that the girl would suggest she’d be smothered while she slept. She wasn’t wrong, and it had tickled his funny bone. The cruel thing. “You’ve met the son then?” He asked then looked momentarily thoughtful to why he even asked. “And if you survive… then what?” Deciding that was a better thing to question. Searching for any reason to enact what he should have done already.
Color her completely surprised that he hadn’t immediately started to defend his Imperial Queen like some sort of courtly cavalier! Forcing her to slightly shift her position to take a peek at him to see if maybe he was somehow quietly seething, or clenching fists out of some noble form of politesse. Only to find him turning to get a curious peek back at her with equally curious questions.
“He wasn’t there. I imagine he’s just as terrifyingly beautiful as she is and just as charismatic with words. The sort that could have any lady enchanted in seconds while in the public eye, and then as cruel as viper behind closed doors.”
Araminta had met men like that before, the ones full of courtly manners and charm when they were getting the attention they wanted, but were just as quick to turn nasty when they didn’t. As soon as she was old enough to marry, every single man in the kingdom had gotten it in his head to marry a King’s daughter and started flocking around. Araminta was so very lucky to have older brothers that cared enough about her to point out little ugly behaviors she should avoid. Maybe they’d done their job a little too well, as Araminta seemed to want something that didn’t exist.
Now it was a bit too late.
His second question actually gave her a moment of pause. Araminta was so certain she’d die, that she hadn’t much considered what would happen if she succeeded.
“If I complete the trials, would the Imperial Queen even make good on her promise? Unless I join her empire, I don’t think she will. So I hope along the way I might make friends. All I need is the mountain pass open again and enough people to take back with me to see if there is anything left of Caeldalmor. To rescue anyone I can find. Maybe I’ll impress one of the twelve kingdoms and they’ll help. Or maybe I will meet some resourceful rogues that just want to blow things up and kill demons.”
Lids fluttered in a means of actual disbelief. Feeling that odd sensation that wanted to tip over and laugh at the very suggestion that someone dared called him potentially terrifyingly beautiful as well, while believing he was remotely elegant with any word play. Let alone enough to try and win over some fair maid. The only true part in her summary was him being as cruel as a viper. Though the closed doors really didn’t have any factor.
Instead of letting the humour tumble out of him like some jovial beast, he fully turned around.
Funny, he thought his reputation might precede him even to her, but it would seem to be not the case. Granted, out of all the evils in this world and his mother being the queen bee of that very faction, he was hardly worth the mention.
Decidedly finding the means of second question to be one worth querying. To bare an observational eye on the seated maid, as she seemed to contemplate it with great consideration. Speaking no sooner that she had to wonder whether or not the Imperial Queen would even bother keeping to her promise. Something that he didn’t have to answer. Nor would try too.
Rather, Theon clasped his arms up over the hardened form of leather jerkin. Temporarily peering at the flame sitting contently in the dirt like some well behaved minion. Listening. Eventually humming but seemingly not about to start drumming up conversation like his tongue had been freed from some grand curse of immobility.
He knew none of the other kingdoms would help. So if she was going to be sweetly hopeful, then her imaginary band of rogues may be her only way forward. Even in fables.
The man could speak volumes without saying a word! How impressive! It took no verbal affirmation to know she’d gotten it all correct. Or at least pretty close. That Imperial Queen was just sending Araminta through the motions, likely hoping she’d die in the process and not have to sully her own fingers or this immaculate image she’d built for herself. Not only was it cruel, it was an empire of lies. The least that woman could do was have the courage to tell Araminta to her face that she didn’t want to help. To be honest that all she wanted was her fallen kingdom, and didn’t give a care at all to the lost people in it.
It was almost enough to inspire Araminta to survive out of pure spite.
Unfortunately, she was rooted enough in reality to know that one unskilled princess against the world was not enough to do much of anything. Eventually the Imperial Queen would have her win and Araminta would be nothing but a forgotten bit of amusement and whimsy. Remember that silly girl that tried to do trials even hardened warriors couldn’t complete.
Araminta shifted onto an elbow to reach for her bag and tug it close to use as a pillow. The thing wasn’t soft by any means, but at least it kept her head off the hard ground and there would less likely be bugs trying to crawl into her ears. Bugs were very much the worst part of sleeping outside in the wilds.
“Don’t bother trying to stand guard, dear Ghost. If you’re lucky some wolves might drag me off in the night.” she mentioned, almost cheerfully. Settling back down to rest her head and closing her eyes. The fire was a nice treat after the last few weeks without one, even if she was still damp and covered in bog. She might actually get the tiniest bit of sleep!
He mentally scoffed at her again. Watching this former jewel of another kingdom slink down. Resting her head on the bag and saying such nonsense. Suggesting that he was even thinking of standing guard at all! Though maybe she ought to worry more about bears rather than wolves. The very latter were cowardly animals. Unlikely to approach when light was present and he knew they weren’t starving in these areas. She’d be no meal for them, but a bear wouldn’t care.
Especially if there were cubs about.
Rather he made a total about face. Turning back to her to stalk off a few paces to act the part of the name she referred him as. To be a ghost. Draped more so in shadows rather than the false firelight, leaving her to attempt whatever means of rest she could have.
Once morning broke, he’d be just as absent as the former magical fire. Busy scouting for things that a woodsman would find in the nearby sparse brush. Pulling mere rations from hidden satchel under his cloak for suitable nutrients while strangely –he meant every word of that- leaving the waterskin for the girl to have upon waking.
Perhaps her dumb luck of survival in the bog had encouraged him to see if she would survive the next. Or he wanted her not to be so pathetic. He wouldn’t say.