True to her promise, Araminta spend the rest of that day inside the tiny hut, finishing off that cooked rabbit and sleeping curled up by the fire. It was extraordinary even to her just how much her body had needed real food and actual sleep. And though it wasn’t exactly comfortable sleep, it did wonders for giving her a second wind.
On the second day, Araminta went straight to the village and spoke to every single person she could, asking them what chores or little tasks they might be willing to pay for in coin, food, or even simple fair trade. Studiously, she worked harder than she should’ve, late into that night. The Ghost would’ve lectured her for certain, but a clever girl could do a lot in a day with kind words and a good attitude. Stables mucked out, gardens weeded, laundry scrubbed, dishes washed… even a delightful pair of dogs got a sudsy bath. The tavern was especially fruitful, as not only did she get tips from serving, there was plenty of information to be had as well.
Araminta hadn’t known that news spread about a refugee princess attempting the Imperial Queen’s twelve trials. Keen on hearing this gossip, she joined in jovial conversations. No one knew her name quite yet or what she looked like, so she found it greatly amusing they were talking about her unknowning she was there amongst them. Most seemed to think she was already dead, as what royally spoiled little lady would be able to get her hands dirty on any sort of quest, let alone one that had killed many a strong warrior.
She learned that no one – not a single person – had ever finished all twelve of the trials. In fact, most fell dead or quit by the sixth. None made it passed the ninth. Some had attempted to do the trials out of order, believing they could knock simpler ones off their list or get the roughest out of the way first, only to find that the Queen was ruthlessly serious about the rules of her challenge and thus met a punishing end. Araminta was surprised to find out that it didn’t have to be a single person attempting the trials, either. You could have companions if people were willing, but not even numbers helped anyone succeed past that deadly ninth trial.
They made it all sound impossible. Araminta was attempting the impossible.
Come the third day, Araminta worked even more. This time exchanging coin and items for the things she would actually need for her journey… with a few exceptions. The Ghost had cared for well for her, so she made his tiny hut at least a little more comfortable for his future stays with a fluffed bed roll, a feather down pillow, and a tea kettle for his fire.
The most valuable thing she acquired, however, was information for her third trial. Half a day’s walk away was an enchanted forest of such ethereal, strange, otherworldly beings. A fae-touched forest. Not the sweet little pixies told about in story books, but ancient and wild creatures that loved nothing more than snatching up humans for their entertainment. None of the villagers ever dared get close to that forest, even during terrible seasons when the hunting and gathering was running thin. One old woman claimed woefully that her first love had gone into the forest searching for a prize, only to come back as a beautiful buck that was shortly killed by another hunter. Araminta gathered a few things that villagers suggested might help, but she doubt if something wanted to turn her into a forest animal that she could do much about it!
By that evening all of her curious questions and strange purchases had also started a few whispers at her expense. Yet she’d long since returned to the hut and gone to bed for her final night by the time hushed rumors had started to wonder was that the girl? Having completely by accident fueled the spread of news that there indeed was a princess attempting the Queen’s terrible trials – and she was actually still alive on her way to the third!
When Araminta did arrive to the enchanted forest where she hoped to find the Ghost in wait, she appeared to have a renewed sense of vigor to her. Food and rest had done her well, though that limp of hers was growing worse. Wearing his cloak to keep her warm and having acquired a new branch for her staff and walking stick, she didn’t have any wild new items. At least not that could be seen outside of her pack. The closer she got to the forest, the more thoughtful her expression got, until she stopped near enough to the Ghost.
“I’m only slightly late this time, that’s better, yes? Oh! I have this for you as promised,” she muttered, shifting to dig into her pack until she pulled out a brand new, crisp and clean little handkerchief. It wasn’t quite as fine as the one she’d shredded, but it had little purple violets embroidered on one of the corners.
It had been in his best efforts to stay busy during the departure. Making more use of cleaning up the seamworks of armor as he had not yet believed it would be necessary to switch from leather to plate. At least, not soon. The means of trials itself would grow steadily harder of course and the need to trade the protective covering would be required.
For now, the time in waiting for the princess to begin her efforts once more provided ample chances at mending, tending and waxing the very gear. Painstakingly going over every little bit. Inch by inch, proving to be the most mundane task there ever was. While not particularly fearing that he ought to worry about this neck of the woods. One would believe half his blood be good for something if not warding away other fae from getting too nosy.
There was little for him to be too invested in besides this. Occasion scouting and a bit of hunting, but with no reason to return to the castle; time was better kept in one spot.
Eventually with the dot of a royal making her appearance after the allotted suggestion of arrival. Leaving him to be currently situated with sitting on a fallen log, watching a row of ants marching along carrying their various bits of found delights. The order, the function, it was commendable.
With a ringing sound of voice and a bit more attention offered when it seemed to observe her state of walk, gaze fell to that of promised thing. Retrieving that of a new handkerchief in which he stared at it in small grasp. Blinking in great lengths of dumbness. He’d might as well be bending to look at the underside of her hand for some elaborate switch. Raising sights to rest in an honest sort of confusion. Promptly dismissed so he could rise up and brush hands down the front of chest.
Turning then only to point towards the forest, expecting her to have some new outrageous plan for her third trial. Making that the priority rather than something of a fabric variety.
Had the man not received a gift in his entire life? Not even a gift, even! This was a replacement of a ruined item, and truly didn’t need that dumbfounded expression. Araminta might’ve thought he was even flushing, but he was quick to keep that impassive expression and quickly change the subject from her gratitude to the current trial at hand by pointing towards the tree line.
“In a rush to finally be rid of me, Ghost?” she teased gently. Taking a hold of his pointing arm and tucking the handkerchief into his cuff where she was fairly certain he’d pulled his original from. “It’s good luck for a knight to have a princess’ favor, you know.”
Araminta was hoping for all the good luck they could get today, as the trial seemed suspiciously simple: Find and aquire mushrooms. Ironically, they were called ghost mushrooms as you could only seem to ever find them in enchanted woods during the night hours, by their soft ghostly green glow.
They’d have to do quite a bit of forest hunting. Thus Araminta led the way to enter the woods, a wary eye on the trees and foliage around them. Keeping a mental list of especially interesting looking landmarks that might help her find her way back out should she end up turned around. As well as considering what might be necessary if they have to spend an entire evening there in such a dangerous enchanted place.
She was so unusual. The raise in tone suggested something of a jovial nature even if she was referring to his unspoken statement that the trail was just beyond the boundary of tree’s. Suggesting that he was practically ready to toss her over the boundary. Never mind the means that she seemed to use his placid stature to draw closer.
Practically alerting every sensory organ in his being to the means of her taking hold and pushing the item of little consequence into where the former one had been. Managing to look slightly puzzled with the knit of brows and curious touch to where she had released. Like he was checking to see if what happened, had in fact, happened. Feeling the fabric laying dormant and the curious words being stated no sooner.
Princess favour?
Was that some sort of riddle?
Well he could ponder it as she walked. Tapping the cloth once or twice more till fingers retracted and sought to hitch up the cowl back over the vibrant hues. Dampening their appearance beneath dark new cloth as he merely waited for her to take the pace over to the means of beginning the next trial. His attention raising to consider the treeline once as thoughts entertained all sorts of beings that made such a place home.
Having heard it rumoured by the chancellor of his mother’s right speaking that some of the own faeling’s here had been original targets of the Imperial Queen’s wants. Uncertain if an deficient and devoid image of male parentage had also herald from here. Although he had never met the man himself, he could only loosely entertain queries upon the safest ground of internal thoughts. Adjusting feet to soon begin the means of following behind the girl with attention noticing once more the unevenness of her gait.
Aware of what sort of dangers lied in dormant and awoken states here, a thought occurred he ought to warn her. But dare not speak such things. Recalling her former words three and some days prior. He was not to assist in any manner. Less he inspire rebellion in the challenge. No less, palm rested against the swords pommel. Investing attention to the forest ground looking in particular for unusual nested foliage that could be home to hungry parasitic faes or rogue living vines that would do well to ensnare unaware entrants. Intermittently adjusting focus to watch the girl from his ghostly lumbering.
The deeper they trekked into the forest, the more Araminta realized these woods were alive. Moreso than just the plants and animals, there was a distinct odd sort of tingle to the skin – magic maybe – that made everything around them feel just a little more vibrant in color and as if it were breathing along with them. There were so many things that became unusual shapes and hues, that Araminta slowly found herself forgetting all about keeping track of the forest trail and the need to look for those impossible mushrooms. The forest in every sense of the word enchanting.
“This place is beautiful,” she marveled, running her hand over a bush with smokey soft pink flowers as she passed. Then side-stepping with a gasp when it burst apart into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Equally as fluttery on the wind like plumes of smoke. Not too much farther away she spotted a white hare with horns like a ram, holding a bundle of leaves in it’s tiny paws and chewing away.
Something much larger also seemed to be lurking far beyond easy vision, uninterested and unafraid of these uninvited guests in the woods. There was a shadow of antlers and the graceful movement of a deer.
Then something else caught Araminta’s eye, faintly glowing with a soft white light. Too early to be the mushrooms she was seeking and floating strangely in her air almost like a dancing firefly.
“What is that…” she whispered under her breath, eyes wide with interest as she was already adjusting her direction to follow.
The place was fine. He wasn’t sure what was so beautiful about it. Glancing at the bush that she touched before adjusting line of vision to where she was gasping at. Following the fluttering bodies of shimmering aerial dancing. Trailing visually one or two till they dispersed entirely and it seemed Araminta was finding another curious creature. The being unbothered by their presence.
Although he sized up the jackalope silently but seemed to direct line of sight more so the girl. Particularly when it seemed the present of one of the more ethereal faeling’s decided to come fluttering along.
Urging him to halt his steps with a slight tip of head to bare witness to the allure happening before his very vision. Feeling fingers itching to reach out in a means of tapping said princess on the shoulder if it was necessary to break a potential spell, but ceased before they grew bold enough to enact upon its twitching.
You’ve done enough already. Okay? No more!
Silently nodding to himself with the recollection, attention lingered to at least to follow along visually to what new path she was wandering off on. Holding his ground and adhering to the former declaration of no further assistance to be given. One couldn’t say he was disloyal to most orders. Though if this was how it was to be, then he wouldn’t be disobeying the command either that the girl had to die. It merely wouldn’t be by his hands.
Simply he could only wonder if her death would be painless. That seemed the least the peculiar world could do for the princess.
Araminta did not realize her stoic companion was no longer following, as now she was so enraptured by this fluttering glowing light she couldn’t think about anything else.
Well, that was not true. She was pondering exactly what it could be, and if it knew she was trailing after it. Surely it did, because when she’d nearly tripped over an old decayed log, it appeared to pause and glide back. Gently bobbing to and fro until Araminta had finished quietly cursing that pain in her leg and had picked up trailing it again.
The forest around her grew darker, the tree canopy over head becoming more dense of branches and emerald leaves. Making the little glowing orb of light seem all that more appealing to follow. A quiet seemed to come too. The birds up on the branches lowered their singing voices to a gentle soothing hush. Yet she followed deeper still, until the trees broke open to a small forest glade… perfectly shaded from any view of the sky. Just a cozy open space of very soft grasses, sprigs of wildflowers.
A circle of tall stones.
That wisp of light – this was a will-o-wisp she’d realized, was circling around each of the stones as casually as could be. Araminta hesitated at the treeline, peering around carefully to see if anything else was lurking nearby. Then she stepped out into the glade to see what was so special about these stones.
Surely, she was led there for a reason!
It was unclear even to him, how long he would have to wait. Should wait. Before going after to find the girl’s body. Seeing as it was likely that it had to be the nigh moment of her end. There was little for him to do in the meantime besides finding a temporary spot to sit and literally wait. To count the seconds within one’s mind to determine a good pause before standing up to go searching after what would be pickings for faelings of a festering sort.
Although he could admit to himself, to come even to the third trial only to perish seemed almost too cruel to be fact. However it did him well to remind himself that not even the hardiest of warriors passed these very things. Often they gave up or died. The options were slim in this case.
The girl ought to consider herself blessed to have succeeded the previous two. It was no easy feat.
the glade was such a place of serene beauty, Araminta was surprised such an untouched place could even exist. The will-o-wisp so ethereally floated between the tall stone monoliths that Araminta followed it’s path, examining each of the stones with curious inspection and the soft touch of her hands.
The one shifted.
Stone grinding against stone, the monolith unfolded itself into a full towering golem! Tilting it’s oblong shaped head as floating flames of blinking eyes suddenly came into being. Staring down at Araminta with a furious orange light.
Yelping softly she backed away quickly, nearly slipping in the grass until she’d fell back against another of the stones. Only to feel it shift behind her and it too staring down at her with it’s own fresh pair of flame eyes! One by one the golems came awake, grinding, stretching, seeming to be really mad about having their nap interrupted. Seven of them in total, with Araminta scrambling to the center of the glade. She did a frantic glance around to find the Ghost – and he was no where to be seen.
He’d listen to her and that was good, but Araminta couldn’t help but feel a sudden jolt of regret mixed with fear.
Fumbling into her bag with shaking hands the princess with drew a small, crudely made lyre. Surely something made to be a teaching instrument for a child. With a quick strum, all of the golems stopped in their stony tracks, tilting their oddly shaped heads. Araminta let out a slow relieved breath and started to pluck at the strings – a false start at first, her hands not being in the best of shape after cliff sides and laundry – but quickly pushed past that initial pain to play a soft gentle melody. The fae always wanted entertainment. Thus why not provide it with a little music?
Araminta hadn’t accounting for it working quite so well.
Charmed by her gentle song, the stone golems had returned to casual sitting around the glade in their circle, yet the second she stopped playing they’d snarl such a strange stony sound and flash of orange flame eyes that Araminta had to continue lest she find out what being crushed was like! And with increasing concern, her audience in the glade began to grow larger than the stone giants. Strange hodgepodge of animals like the horned rabbit and the curious stag. More will-wisps and woodchucks and smartly dressed fauns with smug looking satyrs…!
Every time she finished a song and thought she might humbling make her exit out of the glade, the friendly serene nature of these creatures shifted from that ethereal beauty to something quite terrifyingly sinister. Sweet smiles to a flash of fang and teeth and distorted illusions of features. Araminta was forced to sit in the glade and continue her lyre playing for her captive audience, though she was fairly certain she was now the one captive of the fae.
Hours after sunset and on to midnight, Araminta had still not returned to the Ghost.
After what he deemed more than a suitable amount of time –hours rather stretching into the depths of night- it was clear to him that the moment arose for him to play dead collector. Brushing off attire from his former resting sit to churn away any dust or debris that wanted to clung to his form; the sound of the enchanted forest seemed haunting. Though that was surely part of its natural ambience, leaving him no more the bother to step along the way he had originally watched Araminta be charmed towards. Offering sights to graze across the ground for shallow prints that were there.
Although he was mostly going on assumption to following. Tracking in these woods was not easy. Which was intended from his understanding.
Leaving him plenty of slow pacing to try and figure out the way the princess had meandered off too. Taking due time till the interior of the dense copse began to lightly illuminate. Various night plants and spores alike lighting up the sides great trunks. Offering pallid tealish light and golden yellows in others. Making their own lanterns whilst he searched and wondered if perhaps he ought to wait till the break of dawn.
The idea was poor and too late. Spurring on for a while longer.
Till ears seemed to catch the melody of something that surely belonged not within the forest. Spurring intrigue to follow its flowing strum song till he came upon a break in the knotted trees to find well… a space that was plenty present with numerous beings. Large and small. Horned and not. All fae of some sort with the rhapsody of strings being conducted by—
How on earth…
Once more… how was it that she still lived? Though this meant further not to intervene, did it not. Now he was merely playing witness yet again. Starting to believe there was plenty strange about Araminta. This certainly made it difficult to collect her corpse, now didn’t it? When one was alive.
Araminta was indeed still alive, though clearly wilting, trying to stifle a yawn into her shoulder, along with the droopy eyes and swishiness that came along with being sleepy. Yet she plucked the strings of her lyre with a skilled that belied years and years of practice. Easily working melodic, serene tunes with automatic memory that was successfully enrapturing a glade full of equally sleepy creatures.
This did not mean that the Ghost’s intrusion went unnoticed.
Something about the man was… off putting. At least enough that as he approached closer, the small creatures fled out of the way to duck behind others. Larger ones grimaced at him with a baring of teeth, and a stiff warning that’d he’d catch their hands if he got too close. But even they moved to the side to allow him to draw nearer to the glade and the playing princess.
Once Araminta caught sight of him she sighed greatly with relief and stopped her playing.
“Oh, thank the heavens, Ghost-“
Several annoyed snorts and risen heads erupted in the glade, prompting Araminta to whisper a hushed, sorry sorry sorry and resume her playing. Yet now that the Ghost was there, she was awake and alert once again, ready to try and figure out a way out of this mess!
Starting with the giant white wolf with feathered wings that was using her leg as a meaty pillow.
“I’ve changed my mind!!” she mouthed with a stage whisper. “Can you move her? She is so heavy!”
Suppose the correct course of action in this very moment would be to pivot upon his heels. Turn the way he had come and leave the main stage area. To allow Araminta to do… whatever this was. Unsure if playing and nodding off came as a unison agreement. Though there were many, many other creatures about that had lids drawn to closure. Looking at peace in ways that a phrase he heard before with no conception to what it meant, came forward.
Music soothes the savage beast.
With an attentive scroll across the variety of heads, it seemed that could be very much the case. As the means of ignoring the sort of bared fangs and displeased snorts were aimed at his own presence. He was hardly here to cause the natives of this region any grief, merely to observe.
Such a thing right now was very much pointed at what was going on. Unable to put two thoughts together in understanding to grasp what Araminta had in mind. Granted, after seeing her with a sack full of geese, he really ought to not strain any mental cog to grasp what it was she did at all. She was for all intents and purposes, an mystery.
No less, if he was about to wander back away, his feet weren’t complying with that message. If anything they drew closer with head somewhat cocking in a curious tip when she expressed what seemed relief. Dampened in notice as the silence of her strumming fingers apparently was not appreciated. Her audience of many sorts declared that she was not to stop playing. Leaving him time to surmise this was how she was still alive.
Playing her… stringed instrument thing.
Promptly being plucked to avoid the upset of an turbulent audience.
As vision crossed over the ebon crowned being with her lower half proving to be a softened bedding for a winged lupine, her hushed declaration of a mind being changed had his head tipping again. Akin to a dog listening to a high pitched noise. Rounding attention to survey the immediate area with movement striking forward thus again to comply with the newest asking.
Move the beast.
He wasn’t about to ask why or what, merely curious to see what next was to occur with Araminta. Striding the distance that as he approached to stand over the ivory gleaming beast, he gave a low hum. It didn’t say if it was from interest, curiosity or just a bland accent of noise. Rather just a sound that came before pushing cape back to touch along the leather work of belting. Feeling at the sewn compartments that plucked apart and retrieved some strange looking orange thing. Revealing after a moment it was in fact an orange.
Cut in half, dried partially with little brown points pressed into its surface. With a few squeezes, a delayed moisture appeared to wet the points. Bending down to hold the item forward to the beast’s nose and letting it get the whiff of citrus and cloves together.
Nothing lethal mind you, but a strong deterrent for a beast that’s sense of smell was so abundantly acute. Best used to keep them at bay with the stink instead of enraging the animal. Making sure to keep squeezing a few additional moments till he bared witness of eyes opening and intended to lightly shoo the beast back.
The winged white wolf awoke with a snort and a shake of her mighty head. Immediately erupting into angry snarls at such a rude awakening, and even a snap of teeth at the cloved orange! Yet with another snort she backed away, giving the Ghost the most wary and strangely knowing stare of a creature that knew far more than it reasonable should.
Araminta stopped playing her lyre to leap (well, stumble to a stand as her leg fell half asleep itself) to her feet, shaking her aching hand and fingers to try and loosen them up again. As expected, her rapt audience began to stir in annoyance. Those sleepy, serene forms twisting up into gnarled wild things. Encroaching into the glade making that circle around the pair even smaller. None of them seeming eager to get too close to the Ghost, however, and lingering conveniently just out of sword’s reach.
“I’m sorry, I really am so sorry… but I can’t play anymore!” she tried to apologized softly. Araminta wasn’t sure if they understood her though, as there was an increasing staccato of disgruntled noises as all manner of beastly things stretched and rose from their previously comfortable slumbers.
Soon trees and creatures did bend from a darkened archway at the edge of the glade. A faintly glowing figuring lumbering closer, and closer at such a strange otherworldly glide. That even thought their feet touched the ground, their movement was so fluid it was like wind blowing through the trees. As this figure took it’s first step into the soft grass, it folded up, up, up into an extraordinarily tall man. Nearly as tall as the very trees around them. Skin as pale as a birch, limbs long spindly and twig like. A man both terrifying and beautiful, with gossamer black hair dotted with sparkling stars and a crown of pure gold wrapped around impressively thick branched antlers.
Araminta sucked in a breath, backing away the closer he approached until she bumped into the form of her ghostly companion, of whom was just as immovable as hew new stone golem friends.
“Who is that,” she asked in a whisper. Assuming he would know. The way the creatures in the glade started to bow and bend, however, Araminta was starting to have a guess…
There was no firmer warning that having a strong jaw snapping at the offending object, to promptly put it away. Stuffing it back to where it had come, seeing as it was a useful item to have. Maybe one good use left in it before he would have to find a fresh orange and remake the little arrangement. For now, he didn’t particularly lend the beautiful beast much attention after the means of being told to silently put that thing away. Correcting posture to stand with a slow arrangement of surveying indomitably.
It certainly seemed as though the girl had bewitched those around. Now they were waking up from their slumbering lullaby with all the unpleasantness of a far too early awoken toddler. Snarling and gargling deep noises from their throats, as he tilted attention by ear to the prompt attempt of Araminta scrambling up. Apologizing that she could no longer play, as if it was the most necessary and polite thing to do.
He would not and could not understand that.
Laying arms to dormancy at sides, it would seem that her lengthy lapse of playing had done well to summon a new entity into the glad. Parting the area by spirits of mischief and play. Allowing an immeasurable willowy entrant to attend the area. Raising his chin to take in this being with bland notice, it was certainly something that he had not believed to ever see. Though it seemed to work favours to the rest of the occupants lingering nearby.
Save he was stopped from his impolite staring with the bumping of the girl into his being. Lending a quick blasé look upon her before righting to look at the living tree soul once more. Considering its crown with detailed orientated attention but gave no reply to her whispered question.
Perhaps if he was more of a fearful –or emotional soul in general- Theon would have been inclined to offer formality to the being. Unless he was so passionate of life to drop to his own knees in foolish ramblings, rather than giving the being an detached consideration. Simply adjusting his line of sight to that of Araminta, as if waiting for her next wondrous action. Seemingly to be nearly as enthralled as the former group of melody driven audience members.
Into the glade the massive figure glided, a beautiful cloak of pure soft moss trailing behind him. He bent down, down, down, coming almost nose to nose with the stoic Ghost, unfathomably deep black eyes staring unblinkingly into sterling silver. A snort of glittery mist left his nostrils in an airy plume, as his long branch of an arm came up and with twiggy fingers flicked back that hooded cowl of the Ghost, and then flicked again at the red hair to expose an ear.
“Interesting,” he spoke, with such an uncanny softness in comparison to the massive bigness that he was. The single word almost giving a magical tingle to the skin.
Then he shifted down further to Araminta, who sucked in a quick breath and held it. That twiggy hand moving agonizingly slow and spread wide towards her face only to curl to a single pointed finger to tap gently at the tip of her nose. It felt oh so tingly, making the girl twitch and lean back even further against her stony companion, but she didn’t dare utter a single peep. Only watched with wide eyes and waited quite on the edge of both horror and curiosity, much like the circle of spectators that were occupying the quiet glade.
From beneath the mossy cloak his second long arm appeared, with a bundle of silk tied with a pretty golden cord. This movement too seemed to take forever, holding it aloft in front of Araminta with a faint nod of the head to beckon her to take it.
Araminta was almost too afraid to even move, yet with the most hesitant of motions took the silk bundle, mumbling a thank you that sounded more a mouse’s squeak than a human voice!
Rising again with a motion that brought the being’s barky nose right up to the Ghost’s, there was such a heavy sense that something should’ve been said. That something was wanting to be said. Only a thoughtful, pondering hum escaped those lips. A curious tilt of the head, followed by a smile that went so uncannily wide it was almost frightening.
And that seemed to be that. Lumbering off with an ethereal glide past the pair, the ancient fae took his leave. With him the creatures of the glade also slowly began to disperse. Bunnies and wisps and fauns and satyrs. Wolves and woodchucks and deer. Somehow too taking with them the faint serene glow that had draped over the glade while Araminta played her music. Now the glade was so dark and quiet, one could barely see past their own hands if they were to reach outwards.
All that was left in the glade were Araminta, her Ghost, and the now sleeping stone golems.
“Are we still alive?” Araminta asked with a hushed whisper. Not sure at all exactly what had happened!
Personally, he wasn’t that acquainted with knowing every fae sort of being there ever was. Mostly cause there was such a variety that to spend the days learning what was what, seemed almost daunting. Too much to fit into one mind within a bare few hours, if not days. Things he didn’t typically entertain anyways. So there was little thought in his mind to bare witness to this magnificent being and know who or what they were. His closest guess might have been a treant of some sort. Or the king of the fae in its own way, but he wasn’t certain.
All he knew was, there was little in his chest that suggested he ought to be switching from impassive consideration to impassive sword wielding.
Even as eyes of deep umbra gazed upon him so close. Little less than a hair’s breathe apart while the crowned being of natural embellishments took it upon themselves to remove cowl. Then to move the strands of red away to peer at… his ear? Perhaps this being could tell that he was partially fae himself, and was looking for obvious signs in that of absent point of ear tip. Knowing the only thing that might be telling in his everyday look was the position of pupils. Seeing as they were oblong rather than perfectly round.
It seemed there was something interesting to be found, but nothing more. The inspection was moved over to that of the princess, feeling how she attempted to push into him till it seemed the king of the glade was offering her something of glowing quality.
Appearing that perhaps there was gratitude being given to Araminta for playing for those of the faelings, even if they hadn’t been the most polite of crowd at the end. Thus far she had been successful in not dying once more –adding onto that tallying awe that she was quite impressive for one that seemed like they resigned themselves to death. Apparently death themselves weren’t interested in entertaining her whims.
As the great being rose up once more to be close once more, Theon waited. Making no visible motion that he was impatient, bothered or excited at this overall interaction. Remaining truly unflappable and deadpan. If there was ever a skill someone could have, he was mastering the unfeeling sort of indifferent personality that came as natural as breathing.
The grand fae moved like living water, fluid and graceful while it seemed his departure was a beckoning to have the rest follow suit. Being unspokenly ushered away like children meant for bed. Which perhaps they were as time had long since ventured past the highest midnight point.
With the migration shortly completed, the very glade felt like a shadow of itself. Figuratively and literally with impeding darkness all around them. Seemingly needing no reason now but to turn palm over and flare once more to life that of flame in palm. Faint light reflecting off stony forms as the quiet sound of the princess quizzed whether they lived.
Spurring him to reach out and point to the offered bundle that she had received. As if to say it was best she check what had been bestowed to her. After all, she still had a trial to complete.
Araminta, still spellbound and confused by the entire exchange, stared at him for a few brief moments before her eyes followed down to the wrapped gift in her hand. A faerie gift bestowed by something ancient for certain, a crowned being that very well may have been the king of this enchanted forest. A king not bound to the Imperial Queen, she guessed, as the creatures of the wood did not seem to appreciate her companion’s appearance in the glade. Though, the crowned one had deemed him interesting.
The princess agreed.
Taking her lyre to tuck safely back into her leather bag, she shook her stiff hand again and quickly inspected her fingers before she set her attention to the parcel she’d been given. Gold cord string and a pure white silk. A simple tug untie the knot and the silk slipped away to reveal a curious pair of items.
Not ghost mushrooms as she might’ve hoped. But then, that would’ve made this trial all too easy, wouldn’t it?
Instead there was a small dagger of bone, cut smooth and razor sharp, as well as a broach made of a dark ebony wood carved with a butterfly and a purple iris.
Araminta took to immediately pinning the broach over the fasten of her (well, the Ghost’s) cloak, finding it fit lovely there and suited her well. Such a beautiful gift to receive in a time where she had nothing left of her own anymore.
As for the bone knife, Araminta held it out for her companion.
“This one is for you. You’ll have better use for it than I.”
It might have been in their better course of action to walk in search of what the trial was for. Or rather him to follow her and witness, but he was doing that now. As pointing to the item that was given to the princess. After all, he couldn’t actually recall anyone earning a gift from this place.
Mostly people died here. Got lost here. Everything but receiving something particularly unique from one of the denizen’s. It seemed like he had better view what the abnormal woman had earned. Waiting with flame aloft to cast light for seeing till she was moving that odd instrument about. Earning a prolonged watch as if he were trying to determine if it also doubled as something more constructive. Besides a pretty sounding musical apparatus.
Less he stare at it for too long, the items that were revealed from within the pack weren’t anything he could have guessed. And quite the opposite of another.
A broach that was shortly made into a cloak pin for Araminta by her own hands, and a weapon that would do her far better than the one she had taken from the bog. It seemed the treant king or whatever they were, had wanted to bestow some things of use. The pin would assure her not to lose the cloak so easily and the weapon would be better at assuring she was threatening when needed.
Just as the firelight illuminated her green eyes –making them blaze- he found her holding out the weapon to him. Lightly pursing brows together. Like she gave him a complicated riddle to unravel.
A push of hand to cloak side, and a light tapping to the hilt strapped to his side was surely enough indication for him. Pointing out that he was already well enough equipped with a weapon. Not to mention he was capable of using magic, so the bone knife was admittedly useless. “Replace yours.” Theon stated with an obvious backstep. Inclining chin forward, “Trial.”
“You’re stubborn,” she replied with a dubious twist of the mouth. Looking down at the bone dagger in her hand with a second though. Araminta was certain he should be the one to have it, though there was no real reason for her to think that way. Only that she knew herself well enough, and that she wasn’t sure if she’d have the courage to use such a weapon against someone or any creature. However, she couldn’t force him to take the gift and supposed sometime later it might find it’s perfect use somewhere along the trials.
Thus she wrapped it carefully back with the silk and golden cord, then stashed it safely away in her pack.
“They liked my music, but he thought you interesting,” she decided to point out with a curious glance at him. Not wanting to linger in the glade all night and tempt fate at being trapped once again as an evening melody maker, Araminta got to leading the way to continuing their search. Now that it was nightfall it’d far easier to spy any glowing mushrooms.
In fact, the forest was now all the more pretty with it’s bioluminescent foliage and night creatures. A vision she wouldn’t have been able to enjoy prior had they too quickly found her quarry!
“Now you have a princess’ favor and a King’s favor, I think.”
Stubborn?
Identifying the word in the moment, he didn’t know how it applied to him. To call him such an immovable force merely because the use of the bone dagger was aptly wasted on his prowess. When the woman herself would do well to have one on her person. Even if it went unused, it would still make use of itself in other ways. Doubtful that the Faeling Sire had gifted it with the intention of her stabbing anyone in mind. He’d say it could have been ornamental but with the sharpness of glinting white blade, doubt crept swiftly and surely on that.
No less, she returned it to the silk and put it into the bag for safe keeping. Ending any potential one sided argument of whom should take it.
Rather the girl seemed to wish to mention outloud how the creatures of the forest had come to listen to her music. Which he agreed too. They had liked her music. So much that when she stopped, their showed discontent. Bidding her to keep playing the strange string item. Yet, her articulated favour upon the singular word, he shrugged. Indifferent to the idea that he was interesting to any, let alone a being that heralded this land as theirs.
Such things weren’t to be the point of vexing thought. The trial was still well at hand and she was to either die or finish it.
Waiting for her to lead the means of movement so he could wait additional seconds to develop a cushion of spacing between them. To return to observer and task taker.
Into a new world in the same space with its glinting illuminations that truly bordered on fairytale. Looking alien and wondrous all at once, yet he found himself somewhat glancing at her with her want to suggest favour had come from both her and the seemingly royal entity of this grove. Theon gave it another quick mental prodding with little response. Once more shrugging at it.
They had not come here to earn favours –that had been a bonus for the woman in which earned a note in his thoughts. Likely guessing the faeling monarch considered Araminta just as unusual as he did. Worth keeping a mental tab open about –but the rest? Mattered little.
Araminta should’ve expected his silent shrugs, as the Ghost really didn’t to like conversation – or at least he never bothered to speak out loud unless there was something that truly needed to be said. This wasn’t something she minded, as she was just as comfortable with the silence as she’d be in full chatter… but the more time they’d spent together, the more of a mystery her new companion seemed to be. Araminta didn’t even know his name!
It was difficult to keep her eyes on the forest when they’d keep trailing back to spy at the silent Ghost. But eventually they came to a part of the enchanted forest where the hues of bioluminescence shifted color. Then, much to Araminta’s glee, she finally spied the right shade of eerie green… only to realize with a huff, these particular mushrooms wanted to grow high up in the trees too far out of her reach.
Preparing to try and use her make-shift staff to see if that came any closer, the princess realized it was missing.
“Blast it all, I left another staff! That one was coming along so nicely, too…” she muttered with a huff. Good solid branches that weren’t too thick or heavy, but were solid enough to walk with were harder to come by than one would think when you were surrounded by so many trees.
Forced now to walk around the tree and access a new means of getting up there, Araminta tapped her fingers against her chin. There wasn’t enough of footholds for her to climb the tree directly. She’d need assistance.
Well, she’d broken the rule already about having the Ghost’s help. This didn’t count, anyway, it was such a small thing.
“Will you give me a boost to that branch there? If I can step on your shoulders, I think I will be high enough to reach?”
Inadvertently at the mention of the leaving of the wooden stick she used, his head tilted to look across his own shoulder. As if the motion would somehow materialize the thing in question not too far away, rather than being left… well he wasn’t sure. Although it wouldn’t matter in the long run of things, he wasn’t too sure what was so important about such an item anyways.
For half a second.
Recalling he had noticed her limping previously. Turning attention to gauge her gait currently as if to see if that was the reason for her requirement for such an item. Going through the files of thoughts. Trying to deduce something of use whilst feet paused and head inclined. Looking upwards at the shimmering green mushrooms hiding themselves in the branches of trees. Likely to avoid being eaten by the common sort of beasts that roamed the ground, merely being pecked off by birds if they were interested enough.
Figuratively ear perked at the continued sound of voice. Adjusting focus once then moving at the statement of what she needed of him. Meandering past her to study the bark of the tree before kneeling. Keeping back faced towards her as a invitation that if she wished to use him as a stepping stool, there was no feuding words of refusal to be found. Bracing hand to the trunk to assure level support of his frame. Hearing himself already thinking about if she crawled up to stand, it wouldn’t be difficult to shake her loose. To let her tumble down. To maybe be unfortunate enough to twist her neck so the efforts of projected claim of her death would be completed and yet… still yet the unusual hesitation lingered.
No… that wasn’t the honourable way of death –as if that was a conjecture point for him!
Preferring to stay still and allow her the means of trying to complete another trial.
Not a single complaint from the man, he just bent a knee like it was second nature. Again, making Araminta marvel that such a man was part of the Imperial Queen’s guard. As she really didn’t expect the queen’s soldiers would be the sort that didn’t think twice about bestowing simple kindnesses. Blinking at him for a moment, she frowned only slightly and then bent to quickly pull off her boots. There was no reason to trample all over her with mud, dirt and leaves. To scuff up his cloak and his armor. He didn’t deserve all that.
Now bare of feet, Araminta very gently took to stepping onto his back and climbing to his shoulder. She herself following his movement of bracing a hand against the tree trunk to help her balance, although even with her favoring one of her legs over the other, Araminta seemed to have a fairly good sense of balance. An underrated and invisible skill for a girl that otherwise had no talents.
“Stand slow, I am afraid of heights, you know,” she mentioned, her tone laced with humor. As what she’d accomplished already was quite extraordinary if that little tease were actually true!
If one only knew that he was hardly any imperial guard but rather the singular blood of that very malicious and malevolent queen. Of course there was no complaint against his tongue to bend down and act as a ladder to that of the princess. If any sort of rebellion or displeasure existed inside him, it was either sufficiently beaten into near oblivion or it just didn’t exist at all! Practically a perfected tool that was crafted to act as sword, noose and silent perfection in who aided that of creation!
It wouldn’t have done the Queen well to have a child that thrashed like a wild pony at any given second. Utter perfect compliance was far more suitable for one that expected nothing less than flawlessness to achieve whatever she needed.
Waiting for her climb up as to be lifted to reach for that of the glowing shrooms, her climb aboard was noticed by the balance. Momentarily expecting her to weeble wobble yet found that her decorum likely as a perfect noble was showing itself now.
Once he was sure she was secure and a mental note of understanding was given to know that she had stated she was leery of additional height, he rose. Gradually. Moving more so at a snail’s pace as to avoid her loosing that pristine balance. Using hands to languidly aid the climb upwards till his knees were locked and grasp held firm to the surface of the wooden plain. Keeping sights upon it, watching its surface and mentally finding interest in the rough bends and snaking shapes of its rough texture. Keeping an ear and shoulder out to hear or feel anything that could be potentially dangerous for the princess. Ready to act if necessary.
Not even a chuckle or an upwards side-eye at her little fear of heights quip? What in the twelve kingdoms was it going to take to get this man to laugh or… even just crack a simple smile?
This was not the time and place for Araminta to be wondering these things.
Once he stood steady, she reached upwards finding her fingers juuuust out of reach of the branch.
“I’m going to jump, okay? Hold steady,” she instructed. With some very careful shifting and a bend of her knees, Araminta hopped, grasping ahold tight of the branch above. Giving a few soft grunts and huffs as she swung her leverage and threw up her legs to wrap around the branch too. Hanging there, clinging with all fours like some sort of raccoon until she could shuffle along the branch and manage to pull herself upright down at it’s thicker base to sit a little more… gracefully.
Araminta peered down at him with a triumphant smile, before setting to work at carefully trying to pull some of the ghost mushrooms from their lofty perch.
“I wish all of the trials would be like this. Getting to visit somewhere beautiful and– Oh. Hello,” she paused, finding herself near nose to nose with a slinky, golden snake that was – as she glanced upwards – had to be thrice as long as she was tall! Wound around the tree and curiously tilting and bobbing head to see what she was up to. Araminta pointed at the mushrooms she was collected, which seemed to sate it’s curiosity. At least about her. It then slithered down onto her branch to give the Ghost below that same head tilted examination.
“…Fae are not what I expected.” she murmured, watching the snake carefully. Just in case. “They’re far more strange, unusual things. I like them!”
Body stiffened as she expressed she was going to hop about. Preparing for it rather than getting all noodly unexpectedly because he hadn’t braced himself for it. Though she was quick about it, allowing him to stay where he was but to instead tilt head upwards to at least be a spectator to her newest bout of athletics.
More of a inchworm than anything grand, she still managed to scuttle along successfully without falling off like some failed bird to the ground.
Leaving him to be that blank face observer. Till it seemed she was safely nestled and was able to attempt her means of working on those trial expected mushrooms. Wondering idly in that span of a moment to ponder the collection status.
Bog Hag hair, Harpy feathers, now ghost mushrooms.
He hadn’t been an witness to the trials really before, but now that he was and was stationary enough to let at least his mind wander; he was starting to suspect Araminta’s collection was more of a fetching. For if she brought back the things, they were likely to be ingredients for whatever brew or salve his mother could be cooking up.
Of course such things were privy only to himself and stopped when it seemed her statement of how this place was beautiful became interrupted by the slithering sight of a golden serpent. Knife bright eyes giving the creature a once over which seemed the animal was doing much the same to Araminta.
Seeming satisfied with her pointing to make its way downwards to extend a look at him. Unlike the one actually taking the trial, Theon made no effort or motion to indicate what he was doing. Standing with hands on the trunk awaiting for the girl’s eventual departure from the treetop back to shoulders like a good patient ladder. Just politely removing his gaze away from the snake as not to rudely stare. Assuming this creature also was more sentient than the run of the mill garter snakes in the grass. Finding his shoes far more interesting in that moment while he could still hear the observation of the princess.
Liking the unpredictability of the faeling’s. Although he was sure her liking them ought to be cautioned. Fae were fickle creatures. Some were authentically kind, others properly malicious and the rest an in-between. Determined actions by those they encountered, but most enjoyed being a bit puckish. Simply giving her a bob of head to show he had heard her at least. Agreeing for the sake of it.
“A stunning observation, dear Ghost. Insightful as always,” she teased, peering down at the silent man. If she were going to have one-sided verbal conversations, then Araminta was going to have a bit of fun with it.
Having cut enough of the green glowing fungi, Araminta pulled a brown paper wrapping from her bag and carefully rolled the mushrooms up inside. Folding up the edges too so they’d be well contained. The paper would assure the things dried without getting damp and rotted. Assuring they would travel well along with the rest of her collected items.
The princess made the very awkward business of trying to gracefully climb back down. Going down wasn’t as easy as getting up there, as there was those few inches she’d have to carefully land.
Almost as if to prove every thought the Ghost was having to be real and true, that golden snake slinked it’s long body along the branch as Araminta had now shifted to be holding on with hands alone. If a snake could have a mischievous expression, this one certainly did. Almost grinning when Araminta caught it showing fang and inching towards her clinging fingers.
“Madam, do not. Madam, I beg you, don’t you dare!” she blurted at the snake. Getting more alarmed by the second! Before she could even get herself to a reasonably good spot to land feet on shoulders, that blasted snake took an attempt at sniping bite at her hand. Araminta squeaked and yelped – releasing her grasp to evade the snake and taking a very ungraceful fall!
A peek of stare made its way up at her. Blank thankfully but lens itself was watchful. Trying to determine if he had said anything at all to be insightful, apparently missing the means that she was poking fun at him. Rather rummaging thoughts in case he had spoken up while being absolutely unaware. Certain he hadn’t!
Well now that was a head scratcher. Helping him not overtly gawk at the golden scaled beast but instead picking and thumbing mental files to see if he had entirely glazed over a reply! Liable to apologize too if he had in found a rogue happening! Something that would need to be corrected, mended and managed better if such things ended up being true.
New mental distractions helped avoid watching the halcyon beast slithering back upwards. To prove to be a pain in the fair rump as it certainly wasn’t about to be too easy for the woman. To be allowed to take the mushrooms and leave without some sort of lingering pestering to happen. Acknowledged when Araminta started saying madam. How could she be sure the snake was female, anyways?
Actually that didn’t matter. Not when the creatures smooth face looked like it was baring a humoured permanent smirk. Parting jaw to ignore the pleas and Araminta instinctively letting go to avoid feeling any piercing daggers into her skin!
Seemingly invoking him to response once more outside his characteristic normality. Twisting in an uncomfortable twirl to rotate being with grasp snapping out to catch the falling princess.
By no means was any of this poised! In all fairness, it was an awkward smattering of grabbing her and making an unceremonious tumble of bodies with another into the ground! Driving the air out of lungs with a hearty thump upon back, or unsure if it might have been the way he finangled their less than acrobatic fall with her landing hopefully more so on him than the forest ground. Unlikely it was about to be bouncy and airy for such a flounder!
Regardless, ignoring the uncomfortable way muscles tugged and snapped at their sudden demand of usage, lungs burning with a fiery discomfort with how quickly air wooshed from them, a wince and tilt of attention had him mindlessly casting a empty look at the branch and scaled rapscallion. Dreadful little fiend, now wasn’t it.
That golden snake did indeed seem so pleased with itself. Sticking out little forked tongue and hisshisshissing in an amused snakey laugh. Draping itself oh so comfortably on the branch as if it were the most innocent thing in the forest. Content now to just be a spectator to the mischief it caused.
Araminta’s unceremonious landing was a bit softer than she was expecting, but it still knocked the breath out of her for a second. Enough to be disorienting, so when she did push herself up by the arms it took her a moment to realize not what she landed on but whom, and her face to flush a deep pink in the process.
Too embarrassed to ramble out another rounds of I’m Sorries – as she seemed to be doing quite a lot of those lately – Araminta scooted off him quickly. Using gentle hands to help him sit back up where he needed it or not, and took to plucking loose bits of fallen leaves and dust out of his hair.
“That’s um- That’s three trials now, without an injury this time too. We’re doing quite well, you and I!” she said instead of another apology. “You’re alright? I didn’t break something?”
If an animal ever looked so smug, it was that snake. Certain as he was trying to thought process it all that it was practically the part of court jester that had managed the best joke in the world. Merely missing an entire chamber full of people to cackle and bend with uncontrollable laughter with how successful it’s antics had been. The thing ought to be considering itself lucky that surprisingly, he was not a vengeful person. Otherwise he might have gotten up to hack and slash fruitlessly at the reptile.
Instead, it got a bit of a look before it seemed Araminta was gathering her own wits about her. Noticing with a squinted peek that her cheeks were warm but much of that was pushed aside as she was rather purposeful on making him sit. Feeling something certainly unpleasant shriek at the motion, before following her motions to go about picking leaves and stuff off the top of his head. Almost tempted to lean away but managed to avoid actually doing so.
Rather working fingers to make sure they functioned, then toes as she spoke about how she had three of the twelve completed. Suppose that was worth a bit of her own fanfare, before carefully pulling air through nostrils to assure his lungs weren’t about to shove it back out because they weren’t ready.
Lightly pardoning any stray hands away from himself so he might gather himself upwards, the effort ought to be easy. Save pain shot up so blindly fast that, a fumble of foot caught and he was pressing knee and shin of other to the ground. Unconsciously putting fingers to the running bolt of pain and feeling the slickened presence seeping to certainly affirm that his efforts of trying to assure she was well and fine, were met with a ugly reminder that one didn’t go flopping around stupidly when they carried a weapon.
Said sword and scabbard no longer bound at his hip as they originally had been but the blade guard assured it had not left him without tearing it and belt. Leaving a nice stabbed entry through leather jerkin and self before Theon made a bit of a puckered discomfort at the notice. Merely shaking head at her as she hadn’t broken anything.
Forcing feet back beneath so he might stray gaze in search of the tumbled weapon.
Araminta knew the second he faltered that she had indeed managed to break him. Staring both with impressed awe that he hardly even made a squint or grimace and then a pale faced horror that he was hurt at all. Because she’d fallen out of a blasted tree of all things! With all the actual dangerous creatures they’d come across so far, it was her own clumsy body that’d taken him down!
“Madam, you are a rude snake! That was absolutely uncalled for!” she chided to golden creature, who by now was happily ignoring them both. Araminta might’ve shaken a fist at it too, but now he focus was solely on this new emergency.
“No, I’ll get it. I’ll get it,” she stammered out. Practically scrambling across the ground on all fours until she came across his weapon and snatched it up into her arms. Returning to her bare feet and bringing it back to him with that stricken, worried expression plain on her features.
“You can walk? We could make camp here! I can take a look at it… I could use the silk as a bandage, I’m sure, and we have the clean water, don’t we? Is it terribly bad? Oh Ghost, I am so so sorry. I really thought she was going to bite me, I oughtn’t have let go so fast.”
It was rather useless to look at the sticky red upon gloved fingers, but the motion as just natural. As if to tell it was an unusual colour by stealing a look towards it, the sound of Araminta were noted. How she was shaming the creature for being what it was. A beast that went about its mischief to its own delight, uncaring to what another might think! It had gotten what it wanted at the end of this all and had no reason further to linger. Much the same as Araminta. She had gotten her next ingredient in the trial conquering, so there was little reason to stay here a moment longer!
Just as he managed to force himself to feet with every intention of collecting that of weapon that proved to be just as unkind to him as another, it seemed she was hell bent on it.
Making a scramble on the four limbs and returning back with it hugged in arms. Earning that same sort of misunderstanding look that appeared to be common for him to extend at her. Unsure of why she did what she did! Add on that her usual gentle features were arranged so strangely.
“Stop.” He stated softly at her, this means of rambling mouth discombobulating him! “The trial is what you need to focus on.” Theon decided to reinstate in cause she forgot. “You did what you thought best. I am just the witness, do not stray your concerns or frets to include myself.” It seemed silly to him that she would get so flustered anyways, opening his hand that wasn’t busy putting pressure to the spot, to her.
Funny how he could manage light magic for the efforts of healing as well, but he could not heal himself. It was the requirement for his use of magic. Fire magic did not harm him nor did it provide him the means of comfort and heat, while light could also not harm him but it could not be used to heal either. The constrains of magic came from his own essence and to flow it back at himself was useless. “Next trail is some distance. It would be in your best idea to keep going, Araminta.”
Araminta stared back at him with those wide, blinking eyes, too stunned to say anything at first. Focus on the trials, he said! He was just a witness! When she could see the faint glint of blood on that gloved hand? Was she supposed to just trot on to the next trial and pretend his discomfort didn’t matter? Maybe it wasn’t more than a surface scratch (if she could trust his means of blasé calmness about it), but he couldn’t possibly expect that she was going to ignore it, after the ways he’d care for her already.
“No,” she stated simply. That fumbling uncertainty was gone. The girl who kept rolling the dice and hoping things turned out alright, replaced with the gentle but firm confidence of one who knew they were in charge. Not just Araminta, Princess Araminta.
“Don’t be foolish,” she continued, passing his sword and scabbard to his outstretched hand. Making sure he actually had a firm grip on it and wasn’t bleeding to death as the seconds ticked by. Araminta scuffled over to her boots and quickly shoved them back onto her feet. Then she was digging around in her bag to retrieve that scrap of silk before returning to his side and making the attempt to fuss his arm out of the way so she could see exactly what the damage was.
“If you don’t feel safe here with the fae, we’ll get to forest’s edge and I’ll look it over proper. Then we’ll see if it’s required to go back to your hut for a day or so. I can leave after.”
That was a word he was all too familiar with. No. Especially when it seemed that her tone of voice went from the means of gentle almost playfulness, to something stronger. Something recognizable that spurred a sharp rush of expectation down his spine. Forcing it to remain rigid out of understanding. She spoke more so with authority that he could categorize as royal command. Leaving him to funnily enough, relent swiftly.
Offering her no resistance after that when it came to being told not to be foolish –suppose he knew those words well enough- and taking the sword with a dutiful patience. Seemingly waiting as she made the effort so remove his grasp from its tender placement. Unsure of what she expected to do with the gouge itself, but he was hardly about to make a peep about discomfort or displeasure when it appeared she was the one in command.
Lending her a nod once more with the returned impassive acceptance. He was in no business to go verbally or physically quarreling with anyone that determined a means of authoritative declaration. Gentle or harsh, he’d respond as expected.
Simply lending Araminta a open look that waited for what she wished to do next. Glossing over intent that he was to say which was which.
This was not her Knight. Yet he snapped to obeying instruction with an amount of respect that hit Araminta in a very unexpected soft place. The guard at the Imperial City hadn’t offered her anything more chuckled laughs at her expense. Barely treating her as a person, let alone a person of royal standing! Using whatever means of power they had to make sure those underneath felt it. Yet the Ghost bent as easily as a willow to command, and something about it gave Araminta and uneasy feeling that he hadn’t done so because he understood the need to care for him.
Leaving Araminta to wonder how much of his loyalty had been taken advantage of already. The Imperial Queen had sent a gentle soul out to watch a girl die and expected him to do nothing. Of which he was already coming dangerously close to disobeying, and that didn’t make Araminta feel any better. As much as she disliked the Queen, it wasn’t her intention to make the man question his allegiances and put himself at risk.
This wasn’t her responsibility. This wasn’t HER Knight!
Despite this whirlwind of thoughts going through a contradictory loop in her head, Araminta made the quickest of check of the small gash in his armor. With the darkness of the night and the blood, too much was obscured for her to really determine how deep it went. For the time being she folded up that scrap of silk to about the right size and tucked it in snuggly to be sure it at least helped keep enough pressure on the wound so that it might stop bleeding. Araminta now had enough experience on that front, that stopping the bleeding was the most important step.
“That’ll do. You’ll tell me if you can’t walk anymore?” she asked, taking a quick look up the canopy of trees to see if there was a break enough in the branches to tell exactly where the moon might be. Though she’d lost track of their path in the forest, as long as she knew where the moon was headed, she could make a good educated guess on which direction to walk.
His loyalty. How easy it was to command, the bend and lack of chirping in rebellion came so easily to him. Directive made from a place that royal naturally learnt from, meant his security in lack of insubordination. All it took was one particular tone and any wayward thoughts or actions he might have had or was leaning towards, vanished. With a snap of fingers, he was no more than just another dedicated duckling that dared not step outside the expectation of what another wished or demanded.
Leaving him to at least debate a way that the sword scabbard would need to be repaired. Most likely the belting that kept it cinched neatly to flank would have to be scrapped and bought anew. Rather than sewn back together.
Some things weren’t worth repairing. The leather was already well worn so it was only a matter of time before the very sword decided to flop from his security.
Although he might not have vocalized the discomfort he felt when she pushed on that spot, body still reacted. Flinching in a vain means of protection. As if it were more afraid she was going to dig nails in rather than the silk being bunched and pressed near.
Articulating head towards her as she express that was good enough and apparently he was to tell her if he could no longer walk. Detached gray eyes went up her once and down, nodding before seemingly waiting for her to lead. As if he were still playing witness to her trial instead of potentially knowing the way out of here. Looking to follow still with due compliance!
Araminta had herself full of all kinds of doubts and wonderments about the Ghost, especially when his flinching didn’t seem to be so much from pain but just… her. She might’ve thought maybe he was angry she’d gotten him hurt in the first place, and was intending to keep it to himself, but…
She had to shake herself out of these thoughts. It wouldn’t be wise to linger in the enchanted forest any more than necessary. Though she might’ve charmed a good manner of beasts with music, that golden snake had proven well enough that not all fae in the forest were going to be polite spectators. If they came across something more vindictive, there would be serious trouble.
Thus Araminta took to leading the way through the brush and trees. Ever so often casting looks over her should to be sure he didn’t stay too far and that he hadn’t begun to start limping or getting pale in the face from blood loss. Along the way she found some very nice branches that could’ve made her a lovely new staff, but she decided very quickly that taking faerie’s wood might not be such a good idea. There would be no more tempting of fate this evening!
Suppose he would have to finally return to the castle after this. Seeing as Araminta had completed the third trial and well, he couldn’t avoid relying information back to the Imperial Queen for much longer. Likely to have another sent to fetch him back with more than a mere disapproving look. Just he didn’t know how well it would be right now to use the quick travel when he was wounded. Sure that blood would seep far too freely and he didn’t wish to leave any sort of trail for anyone curious to follow.
Not did he want to lead anyone accidentally towards this enchanted place. For their own benefit and the denizens that called this place home!
While this was trial area, no one needed to infringe upon the local’s natural lifestyles. If they did on their own leisure, then there was little he could do about it.
Suppose the best he could do right now was one thing at a time. Following the movements of the princess as they walked that of the forest. Idly checking and pressing the item to the spot of displeasure while making surveying passes of gaze around. Not wanting to accidently come upon someone who didn’t care for their interrupting presence. Although he found some of the choice movements curious, he kept his pace a good arms and some length away from her. As not to infringe. Every so often finding her green eye peeking at him, which was commonly met with a blink. Not sure why she was doing so. Wondering if he was overstepping.
A thought that lingered so he lengthened the distance for six feet as not to impose.
He’d do well to assure her once they parted these woods, that she was well and depart. Knowing it was in his best interest to work on returning to his mother’s domain to receive whatever came next. Disapproval, disappointment and whatever else. Though it would give the princess time to make it towards her next trial. And whatever plan she had for it. To work more for others? Wrangle another few farm animals? Charm the sun itself to play host to her? He was not sure!
But he wouldn’t be surprised either.
It took all of Araminta’s willpower not to stop her tracks, claim him by hand and lead him along. His moments of discomfort didn’t appear dire (mild annoyance at best), yet he kept lengthening the distance between them, bit by bit. Not from any sort of tiredness or trouble in keeping up with her quick pace… just deliberate distance. The princess supposed the might man have his pride and didn’t appreciate her overbearing fussy watchfulness, and thus had to force herself to deal with the growing anxiety every time he added extra inches of distance.
Making it out of the forest took twice as long as it did to get in, Araminta’s sense of direction not exactly being the best, nor could the pathways and trails in the faerie forest be entirely trusted. Dawn had emerged in blooming hues of orange and pink by the time by the time they hit the natural borders of the woods. Araminta herself felt quite droopy, tired, and sore, so it was easy to imagine the shape the Ghost must’ve been in, having a night without rest and having to walk all that way with a wound on top of it.
The second she found a spot that looked safe enough to pause, with a convenient fallen log to make sitting all the easier, she made sure he stopped. Setting to work already in putting aside her bag, unclasping her cloak to set aside with it, and then slowly rolling up the cuffs of her sleeves.
“Sit! You’ll have to remove the armor and anything else in the way so I can get a proper look at it and clean it up. I can help, you need me to? Just tell me what to do?”
By the time they had finally left the depths of the forest, the sun was breaching the horizon. Painting wondrous colours across painted clouds. Soft honey golds to gentle fluffy pinks. Gentle and warm, though he found his attention forwardly watching that of the princess. Having formed a palm over to keep his own heat and pressure to that of the agonizing pain rushing over nerves and skin alike. Preferring the weight of palm before he was giving her a slight tilt to head as fatigue lingered but spoke little in the verbal means.
The girl looked just as worn, if not more so than him. Having been eyeing her gait between the movements of scenery of the enchanted grove, he wasn’t sure she was doing better than him. Although he was far more accustomed to such means and apparently had more control to withhold any vocal or physical discomfort from showing. More than aware that such things –while he absolutely felt them- he had no reason or purpose to let them be seen.
However, she was rolling up her sleeves after seemingly finding a spot that would be suitable for rest, telling him to sit.
Which he complied with in manner of seconds. Wishing internally he hadn’t –tightening grip but mouth kept straight and unmoved. Raising eyes to her to await with keen listening ears on. Processing what he was supposed to do before righting one self. Ignoring the bleed of red over glove as it left its placement. Setting sword down beside, as grasp moved to remove the cloak pin from its hold. Pardoning it to allow the replacement fabric to droop and made movements to feel along the bound seams where brass buckles and leather belting assured the hold of the leather armour. She could have likely told him to hop on one foot while reciting a nursery rhyme from childhood and pat his belly with the means that he didn’t appear or wouldn’t seem to confront her demands.
Shortly removing the leather chest piece to come and rest alongside drooped cloak, the protective chain mail was slipped off over head. Coming to be additional pieces to the rest. Gloves and gauntlets removed, to where the minor gray tunic top was removed and bared no more than open canvas of harden torso flesh to damsel. Flecked itself with smooth and jagged lines that came from work and other curious embellishments, Theon seemed to register the silk bit had tumbled out at some point. Looking to the ground to awkwardly pick it up and stare at it. It had been given to her and now it was saturated with red.
Leaving him to consider the entry point of the inflamed gouge crossing from hip to near abdominals, it was funny how this very moment was where he seemed to animate somewhat.
A soft appearance of pink fluttered against cheeks, inviting the avoidance of gray rings make sure they looked anywhere but. Mouth working against the red status of beard, “Apologies.” He was… apologizing to her for well… what this was likely to be as a mistake. A knight didn’t falter like this. Especially one that was supposedly royalty.
There’d been quite a bit involved in taking off layers of armor, and Araminta’s fingers itched to help the process. Having to keep herself from hovering over him like a fussy mother hen when he as well used to being an independent knight. Once he was chest bare, she didn’t have the sense to be bashful about it, far too busy with eyeing the amount of blood and debating about what supplies she’d need out of her bag. That flush in his face went unnoticed, but as she knelt down next to him, his apology did make her pause.
“What, exactly, are you apologizing for, dear Ghost?” she asked, trying to mask the humor in her voice, as this wasn’t very funny at all and he shouldn’t be the one apologizing on top of it. This wound was her own fault and really, she needed to be the one apologizing a thousand times. She might’ve continued to do so if she didn’t need that same breath to actually fix the very wound she caused!
Taking that red sopping scrap of silk out of his hands, Araminta also confiscated his waterskin to pour a little water over it and wring it out. With the scrap already covered in blood, it made a convenient rag to wipe away and clean up as much as the blood as possible from his skin. She couldn’t be sure if it were pommel or blade that manage to give him such a slice, but she did find some relief in that it wasn’t too deep. Inconveniently long and likely to have severed so many angry nerves!
The downside was that bandage alone wouldn’t be enough to keep it from reopening every time he twisted. This was something Araminta had learned the hard way.
Snagging the edge of her pack, she did some digging until he produced a tiny little folded pouch. Inside she had some sewing needles and a moderate amount of thread, but as she examined the spools and his wound, she set those aside and pulled that gold cord that’d bound her faerie gift instead. With a bit of twisting and prying from her fingers, she tugged free a few very fine golden threads.
“Tiny fire, please,” she requested, holding up one of the sewing needles.
The means of embarrassment grew when she asked him just what he was apologizing for. Uncertain he could find the correct amount of verbage to explain the depths of it all. Then him realizing that she was going about wanting to help him, it was so unusual. So strange that he felt as though he had bugs in his spine. Itching to wriggle and move because he was truly at a disadvantage about any of this. Wounds happened, he dealt with them as they came.
Aptly able to count on one hand the amount of times any other thought to aid him. Which might as well include only a few fingers rather than the full hand. Out of those times, it certainly had never been a princess, fallen or not!
The sound of water being squeeze from the item she took, that feeling of growing unfamiliarity made the itching in his back rise tenfold. Forcibly restraining that awkward sensation while mouth made no effort to explain why he would apologize at all. As that list was promptly growing to outrageous lengths, that they’d be standing here for days if he truly went about explaining.
Instead he found a particularly interesting spot on the ground.
He was pretty certain that this was not part of any princess’ regular duties. And, he was certain that if she knew who he was, she’d be far less inclined at all to even offer any sort of compassion. Let alone to go this far! Although he was unsure if she even knew what the prince of the Imperial Queen’s, name was! Still, he wasn’t about to start answering unasked questions.
Merely sitting and realizing after a delayed sluggish thought that she was asking for something. Having been doing some plucking of the fine threads of the gold cord to where she wanted him to do some magic.
A blink here, a straying glance there and it took a little more effort to summon a tiny fire. Rather than letting it drool again out of palm, he held said hand towards her. Finding strange bout of courage rising up, “Why… are you doing this?” Theon stole only a momentarily glance at her with features thankfully returning to neutrality. “Am I not your enemy?”
Araminta was not a young lady knowledgeable to the world at large and if one asked her, she’d say she didn’t have any skill or talents at all beyond being able to play her music. Yet despite that, she was a very astute woman and it was clear to her that he was having some sort of internal crisis. Though she hadn’t quite figured out the hows and whys of it yet. Even his peculiar question didn’t give much enlightenment. Easy enough to assume that the world had not been kind to him, and it made her so frustrated that there was not much she could do about it.
“You’ve helped me. Mending a wound I caused is the very least I can do,” she explained. With the little flame produced, Araminta waved one end of her needle through it, and then flipped it to do the same on the other side. Mumbling a few soft ows at the hot metal and a bit of flicking of her fingers, until she was satisfied that it was sterile enough.
Then she was making the very delicate work of threading the needle with the golden strands. Hands steady and eyes keen.
“You’re also not my enemy. I’d like to think that you might be my friend, but I can understand if that’s difficult,” she mused out loud. Although Araminta suspected they’d already stomped past any boundaries they should’ve made to keep things detached and strictly professional. She wasn’t about to have regrets on her luck, however, as having a kind companion was better than she could’ve hoped for.
“This will hurt, so I will sew as quickly as I can, okay?”
Brows of two cinched together at her suggestion that she caused this. Struggling to find the means of commentary to hold any bit of ground. It had not been her that stabbed him. It had been his own reaction and failure on his part to be wise to how sharp even a blade guard could be! This, was merely what happened as a result of his choice. To claim it as her doing seemed entirely senseless.
There was clearly no explanation for this and he wasn’t so bold enough to point it out either. Busying to make a flickering heat in palm while she tried to make it clean enough to push through skin!
Or it was her mention of how he was not her enemy.
His mind almost lurching in baffled misunderstanding at the idea of friend, alone. She was truly so unusual. Where he thought it impossible to shock him over and over again, she continued to do it! With a steadfast pace. “You… do not know who I am. It is doubtful you would think the same if you did know.” Theon spoke that same uncharacteristic way. As if the pain that was keeping kept hushed was starting to befuddle his composure of staying quiet!
Nodding even as she suggested it would hurt, he was hardly bothered about that. Tempted rather to take it from her and do it himself. She might not be a princess any longer in a technical sort, but it felt wrong to let a lady at all do this.
Still he straightened his back to a rigid hold as not to wavier or tip accidentally!
It was Araminta now whose brows furrowed, trying to understand the absurdity of his statement. He didn’t think she’d be as kind if she knew him better? Did he not realize how much a man could say about himself through actions alone? Had she not already surmised the most important facts? Now he was going as stiff as a log in preparation for her mending, which really only sealed her determinations already.
As promised, Araminta set quickly to work using the needle, and it was fair easier to do so on another person than it was on herself. Her hands were gentle and careful not to tug on his skin, using the damp silk to clear away blood when she needed to. She didn’t want to sew him up like a mended doll, but there needed to be enough of the stitches to strongly hold, and it was such a long cut.
“…do you think I’m not aware of what you do in working for the Imperial Queen?” she asked curiously, not looking up from her work as it required all of her focus. “I’m not so naive, dear Ghost. There’s no doubts in my mind that you’ve done terrible things by her order and in her name.”
Araminta paused there, leaning back on her heels, not quite looking at him, but through him at some far away memory that she wished wasn’t still lurking there, so easily dragged up during these melancholy moments. Only, in this case it felt like it’d be helpful for him, so out that little piece of information came along with a sad twist of her month.
“We do things to survive, sometimes regretful things, myself very much included. But I like to think, when we’re not trapped with such impossible choices, that we do the right things. I don’t know who you were before, but in the now you’ve been… wanted. That doesn’t quite feel like the correct word, but I’m very glad to have you with me.”
The means of tolerating pain was second nature to him. It was highly uncomfortable, making him want to wiggle around like some worm on a hook, but less he wanted to make her work more difficult; one avoided being that very thing! Staying still and ready for each prick that was looking to mend flesh by stringed assistance to assure closing. Though it seemed it was also time for them to have an unusual moment of candidness.
This was by no merit part of the trial. Where his mouth was willing to impart thoughts verbally in not so common behaviour. Having found her delicate brows knotting to seem like they were trying to help her think of whatever it was that needed pondering.
Surprisingly, Araminta spoke and he felt a want to scoff at her narrowed view. She assumed he was no more than another unit employed by his mother’s fist. Which wasn’t wrong but it wasn’t right either. Keeping his own vision from lingering on the bounty of dark hair. Mere glimpses. Shortly finding that her statement of being told she wasn’t so naïve to be the direct mark of someone who was.
Prick and tug. Prick and tug. Nerves tensed and a natural desire to get away from the insisting stitching was present. Forced down, focus made to linger on her matter of fact speaking.
Knowing that any other man would have found her senseless. Worth a huff and a puff because what she was saying might have fit so many others, but it didn’t fit this particular moment. Even if he knew many of his choices thus far were absolutely not the normalcy of his being.
Even as she ended, he let silence linger. Pressing thoughts to hyper fixate on it rather than the sewing motions till it seemed to burble too long like a boiled pot over too hot of flame. “Much of what you said could be true to another. But much also does not.” Theon hissed silently in his skull, managing to keep his hand stationary during that of mending. “I do not merely work for the Imperial Queen.” A silver eye strayed to lurk at the corner of eye.
Fallen red hovering over to offer a crack between strands. Knowing he could have said more but intrigue grew. “What does the name Theon mean to you?”
“Theon? Is that your actual name, then, Ghost?” she asked, finishing up the very last of the stitches and doing well to make sure there was a bowed knot at the end of the thread, so it wouldn’t slip loose as he walked. With the wound closed up, the flow of blood had mostly ceased, making it easy to clean up the area with fresh water and the damp silk. The name Theon did seem familiar, though, as if she’d heard it somewhere before–
Prince Theon, in fact. The Imperial Queen’s very son. Araminta paused right in the middle of clearing away the last of blood, to tilt her head back and eye him up and down as if he may very well be a stranger! The queen herself hadn’t spoken his name, but she’d heard it while in the capital. Some said he was her right hand — others claimed he was nothing more than a titled assassin. Certainly none of the comments made him sound like he’d be any sort of kind of pleasant person, and for sure never a potential solution to her problems in the form of marriage.
What she’d heard compared to the person sitting before her were very very contradictory things.
“I’ve said some very unpleasant things about you and your mother…” she started slowly, not exactly apologizing for it but curiously leaning back as if she was contemplating the idea of leaping to her feet and escaping just as quickly as she could.
Instead, she reached for the cloak he’d given her, sizing up the fabric with her hands before she’d grabbed the bone knife out of her sack. The gift had come in handy after all, being a far easier means of cutting up some wrappings to make sure his wound stayed dry and clean.
“I’ll get you a new cloak,” she murmured the promise. Although if he were indeed the Imperial Prince, he likely had no limit in cloaks!
It was then very interesting to watch her features. As she spoke and determined the name was in fact his own. As he gave her no more than a bit of a lifted chin that was the best to express yes, it was his name. The way her features changed as she worked, making as neat of work as anyone could do without being a cleric or medic; it was almost comical to bare witness to the change.
When knowledge from wherever came trouncing into thoughts. Tugging out little snarls of tidbits that allowed her to very soon make the connection that aligned merely the name Theon to that of the Imperial Queen. A child born of dam and sire in humanoid skin. Although he waited for her to make some formal excuse or embarrassed simper, if not entirely bolt as he expected; Araminta spoke up about how she had said some unpleasant things about him and his female parent. He wasn’t looking for an apology either. “The things you’ve said were true at least.” Theon acquiesced, unbothered by it. Rather tilting focus to look at the long sewn gash.
He was not about to start preaching praise for his mother. While he was no more than a contracted dog by blood, he neither loved or respected her. If he did, he likely would have been more heralded to act on her whims with a delightful grin and spring to his step. However as he grew, he learnt alongside others that his place was simply that of a tool. To be used when she bid as to avoid her own fingers getting dirty if it could be avoided. And she always seemed to avoid it.
The sound of cloak being ripped by blade was inconsequential, it was the words she rambled next. “No.” The man didn’t need her to be worrying about such things. “Not for me. For yourself.” Declaring if she was going to get any cloak, her own would be best. Just that he stopped to reach for the newly fabricated rags to find the pin that she had been given by the being that seemed highest nobility within the forest. Maneuvering its pinch to be freed and to turn the wooden piece over to the girl once more.
Seemingly waiting for her to recoil now with this new information and to live up to the former statement that they were enemies. That she would react as he believed she would now knowing that he shared blood with the heartless rat queen.
If Araminta had any doubts on her first impressions of him now that she knew he was the Imperial Prince, he just as quickly proved that her instincts were the right ones. In the way he told her to find a cloak for herself. In the way he looked at her now, expecting her to suddenly damn his name and parentage. Really, the truth should’ve set her free from her guilt and her sad feelings about him. As the queen’s very infamous son, Araminta needed have to worry about him at all!
…except, she found, now she was even more concerned about the life this Ghost was living. What a dreadful existence to have a mother like that. How could the woman be treating her own blood this way.
“Are you waiting for me to curse you, Ghost? Theon,” she corrected softly, taking the wooden brooch from his hand and pinning it safely to her shirt where it wouldn’t be lost. Now that his confession was in the air, Araminta resumed the business of using pieces of the shredded cloak to first make a good padding to wick away blood, and then sitting up on her knees to wind the longer strips around his waist to help keep it in place.
“I’m not so lofty a figure either, you know,” she mentioned in between her winding. “I destroyed the mountain pass and killed my brother in the process trying to escape with a few refugees and lost those along the way. An entire kingdom of people trapped inside the valley with a hoard of demons. Tell me you’ve killed as many and I might be allowed to judge.”
The way she said it was so oddly strange and matter of fact for the girl who otherwise always sounded optimistic even in the face of dying. Though she was trying to hold fast, that numb facade was breaking down quickly causing a very painful lump in her throat and a sudden sniffle. Araminta quickly made sure the bandage was tied well, before she turned away to attempt to clean the blood from her now shaky hands. Crying about it again wasn’t going to do anyone any good.
Curse him? Maybe.
It wouldn’t be the first time or the last time that someone learnt who he was and felt that with their strongest breath, they were allowed to go up one side of him then down the other. Each person was allowed to feel as they needed too. He might not be remotely expressive but he understood other’s emotions. The rippling measure of how they rose, clamour and burst out in various ways. Never did he grow upset by whatever response another person had. Emotions –stripped as they were from him- were normal. No matter which way they came out.
He was no one’s maker and would not be their honoured judge.
Merely content that she would not forgo the gift the being had given her. Unsure of what or if it had any importance, it seemed that Araminta could do well with keeping the broach and dagger close. Items given to her when it wasn’t necessary. Acts of good faith, he supposed.
Although he was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable as she began to wind parts of the cloak about himself. Ready to stand and pardon out of reach as this whole touching and physicality thing was so strange it might as well have been considered a phenomena, she stalled him. Stating that she was hardly lofty. Mentioning having destroyed the mountain pass with a thought that she had harmed a sibling. Pausing him to listen. Even as she spoke and turned away, he repeated every word over in his thoughts. Making them sink in, before turning to scoop up the means of tunic as to carefully pull back over. “And you still came here. In good faith and hope, beseeching help from an Imperial Queen. For the hope that you can still do more.” Theon straightened the garment after a moment. “You may not be lofty, but your intentions are done with compassion, Araminta. I don’t know much of the former Kingdom of Caeldalmor, but it is evident you are still trying. Even if the efforts might be slim to none. You could have given up after it all.”
Theon adjusted on the log, scuffing forward so he might put his feet to standing. Bracing palm to the stitched portion of himself but made no sound of discomfort. Nothing seemed to be pronouncing he was in throbbing tenderness. “You’re not numb, or dead inside or out. That… ought to count for something.” The man glimpsed to her then. Considering his own words, seemingly satisfied with them. “You’ve been active since yesterday. You should rest, you’ve done much. Thank you.”
It was hard not to be taken aback by his words, especially when he was one to say so few. Yet here he stood, insisting at least she was still trying. That even with the odds not being in her favor, that her efforts were still worth something. Warm, encouraging words that belied no hint of the chilling woman that bore him. He was something extraordinary all by himself, and somehow he didn’t know. Had absolutely no idea how much power he wielded just by the simple affirmations.
“…you’ve not given up yet, either, I think.” she remarked softly, a bit of wonderment to it. Had he given up himself, he’d have obeyed his mother’s wishes and stood idly by while she attempted the trials. Araminta would’ve already died hanging off the side of the cliff, shredded by harpies had he not intervened. He wasn’t beholden to the Queen, he just hadn’t realized that yet.
For a moment she almost opened her mouth and told him as much, yet quickly clamped it shut. Again, having to repeat the mantra in her head, not her knight, not her responsibility. Before, in the thought he was just a queen’s knight that was already bad enough. Who was Araminta to get in between a prince and his queen mother! This was not a prince in distress that needed to be rescued by some silly girl! What would she even say that he didn’t already know? How could she tell him he could walk away, knowing that the queen did NOT seem like the type who would willingly let something of hers go.
She’s be telling him to join her witless death. Araminta couldn’t do it.
“I’ll rest,” she promised instead, knowing she didn’t have the energy left to even bicker about it anyway. “You oughtn’t rush to catch up with me, this time. It’s sure to take a few days and you could use the rest too.”
That drew him to pause. Pause absolutely everything.
Lingering on that very thought that apparently he had not given up either and yet, he lightly turned to address her visually. “Perhaps. I would think that was due to you, Araminta.” He would give credit where it was due. Even though he was certain she was not really afforded that information either. “I am sure…. Sure you can piece together why the prince of the Imperial Queen was assigned to your trials.” The girl might be unusual and entirely not the sort of person he was accustomed to dealing with, but she didn’t seem stupid.
Not by a long shot.
“Had I given up as I thought… I believe I would have followed through those orders. Yet… I have not seen someone with such…” Theon paused again. Mulling over for the right word, “Courage.” Yes, that felt right, “Go to such lengths and manage such trials with a strong lack of violence.”
Still he shrugged gingerly, deciding that she ought to rest. Before he gave that look once more. As she seemed to stress about him rushing after her. Making his stare linger upon her that surely she might be able to start to figure out there was more to him than just what she could see. “You noticed how the faelings reacted to me.” Was his hint to her. “Just as you seem to be peculiar with your steadfastness, one could say similar to a prince of blood.”
Araminta did indeed know why the Imperial Queen would send her gossip-famed assassin son as the witness to Araminta’s trials. The princess was not to come back alive, one way or another. The fact that the Ghost – Prince Theon – had not only defied that kill order (so far) and had actively saved her life…
Well. It certainly explained why he seemed to be so perplexed and silent all the time.
What Araminta hadn’t expected was for him to tell her that was because of her own actions. To say she had courage and steadfastness with such simple admittance made her cheeks flush a deep red. Araminta even scoffed out loud, suddenly finding a great interest in gathering up all the loose scraps of his cloak to stuff into her bag where she might find a good use for them later.
This his next words made her stop to glance back at him with a curious, examining perusal.
“You’re fae,” she marveled at the thought. Not just fae-touched, but actual fae. No wonder that fae treant king thought the Ghost so interesting.
Then she shook her head, squinting her eyes at him.
“Are you trying to use that as an excuse not to rest yourself? All it means is that I should worry slightly less.”
Of course there was little to think on the matter that he had been sent to take her head as the prize for this all. Wondering idly between other thoughts if his mother thought Araminta was a threat now, or she was some sort of coveted piece of a puzzle with a head full of dark hair and olive skin. Not that he was sure there was an answer to such things, nor did he want one. Merely that the girl’s jade eyes crossed over him once moment and left the next. Unsure of why –barely able to convince himself that he knew it was because he had said more than he would on a normal day.
After all, he was hardly known to be a conversationalist on any day of the week!
Still, this girl presented so many unknown and curious changes, that it appeared it was reaching out to make him do equally unusual things! Reaching out to even expand that her efforts to suggest his means of playing witness did not need to be committed too. That his time ought to be spent resting, even if that was hardly true. If he went idle, then he would need to return to his mother.
To tell her all that happened.
And likely face something worst than mere disappointment!
Perhaps he was prolonging this by articulating a little puzzle piece of his own. Once more finding those glittering rings of verdant colours upon him. Resting and taking a scrap of intellect that she put the loose piece in place. “Half.” Theon corrected. Not about to make it believed that his mother was of the fae world. Had she been, it might be far worse than it already was.
Head was shaken, “Rest will happen. I am not that infallible.” If that was a joke, it was questionable. “Merely…. I possess abilities that allow travel to be inconsequential.” Then in a strange twist, his attention widened somewhat upon her, “Surely not what you’ve assumed me to be, then?”
Now Araminta knew how he traveled about so fast. There was something deeply, inherently magical about the fae and the strange spaces of their realm. Sure, they could wander into an enchanted forest filled with fae, but at some point you traveled from this world through theirs. Fae were such strange things that the usual rules of space and distance did not seem to apply to them. The Ghost truly was a ghost, traveling through faerie veils as if no barriers existed.
There he went again though, being funny without actually meaning to. Seeking an answer to a question that was a very amusing thing to ask. Araminta could only smile wide.
“I can’t say you’re terrifyingly beautiful, but charismatic with words? A very surprising Yes.” For a man that said so little, when he did speak it was getting dangerously close to sincere compliments that’d make her blush. Araminta decided it was best not to admit he was also enchanting. She doubted he’d believe such things anyway.
“I’m going to worry about you all the same, dear Ghost, as you’ve only succeeded in replacing those worries with new ones.”
Charismatic?
The very word sounded foreign. Wrong, actually. Not that he was about to start spitting out the idea that she was full of incorrect belief’s. If that was what she felt towards him, then that was her decision in the end. He could disagree without being angry about it. Merely humming shortly after before making effort to clean up that of his armor. Looking at it all piece by piece before brows gingerly rose upon his forehead.
Unsure of what she meant about him replacing worries.
Actually it was that very notion. That she was worried. About… him?
What an oddity that was.
“Theon… if… that isn’t too much to ask.” He decided to request, “Less that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Theon,” she affirmed sporting a soft smile. They truly had crossed a boundary now, from dutiful acquaintances to – what she hoped – was actual friends. For the Ghost to admit who he was and to tell her his ordered intentions was a monumentally courageous thing. He either hoped the information would send her running from him and the trials to spare her the queen’s order, or he trusted her enough to divulge such a secret knowing she wouldn’t strike him back.
He really was something special.
Making sure everything was secure in her pack, Araminta rose up slowly to her feet, regarding him with a soft curious look before hoisting the bag’s strap over her shoulder.
“Since your hut is still close, I’m going there first and will spend the evening resting as you’ve asked.” Araminta explained first. With the hut only being half a day’s walk, it would be a smart and safe place for Araminta to regroup and in the nearby village she could acquire the first of her supplies for the next trial. The next was such a far distance away it’d take her the time to consider travel plans and stops. All of this was simple enough to do, but Araminta felt the need to make sure he knew what to expect from her.
That she had every intention of continuing with these trials, even knowing his terrifying mother was hoping for the exact opposite.
“One week. Give or take a day.” she instructed the time of her arrival… then paused. “…when you see her, tell her the truth. That I’m not anything special and pure dumb luck has carried me through so far. One of these trials is sure to end me, but I’d still like the chance to try without a new witness… or a new assassin.”
Tell the truth. As much as it might have been in his better favour to graze while picking and choosing what was to be told to the grand queen, Araminta was correct. He could not lie to the ruling monarch, regardless if what was to be said was favourable or not. Although as she turned to walk away in means to the small hut, he could not imagine the means of providing himself as a further witness. After all, he hadn’t done what was expected of him. Failing her word.
It had been a first for a long while. Unsure when the last time he resisted the law of his mother’s claims. Sure that he had when he was young and not yet trained into the biddable creature.
No less, his return to the grandeur of a castle was not delayed. Ignoring the familiar ornate creation of the pillars and vaulted ceilings. Tapestries and runners alike, as he had only stopped a moment to change from travel wear and armour into something more fitting for the audience chamber of the Imperial Queen. Imploring that it was his return and his means of retelling the information to the woman, hoping somewhere in the back of his mind that Araminta would still fare well enough even after the replacement and perhaps she could charm the next assassin as she had him.
One step at a time, first thing was first. Giving the Imperial Queen her update.
The Imperial Queen’s fantastical castle was a testament to wealth and power. Constructed in the first ten years of her rule on top of the ruins of an ancient empire and now the center point of her expansive Capitol City. Once known long, long ago as Heirra of the Molten Mountain, she climbed, fought, won and seized each of the twelve kingdoms through ingenuity and sheer willpower alone.
Treachery and dark magics as well. Yet no one would dare say such a thing to the Imperial Queen’s face.
While she had many chambers to take audience within, the one she waited in now was reserved for… family affairs. A single heavy door that led into a room of deceptive coziness. Walls adorned with elegant red paisley wallpapers and dark woods. A roaring stone fireplace with a painting of the Queen herself in her impetuous youth as the conquering queen. Plush rugs laid out across the floors.
Only a single high back chair of leather, where the Queen herself sat working with a bundle of fresh straw and strings of twine. Bending and tying it into some sort of shape. The woman’s features no longer matched the youthful exuberance of her painting, as now her true age was beginning to show signs even through her carefully sculpted makeup. She bore little resemblance to her precious son, though before anyone could hope that maybe he was a stolen child, she did share his cold silvery grey eyes.
“I expected your return sooner, my darling Theon. Whatever has kept you, I wonder?” she asked him immediately upon his crossing the threshold. She did not make a motion to get up and greet him, nor to stop her curious weaving. Instead simply gesturing a hand that he was to kneel at her feet before the fire.
There were boundless tales attached to the queen’s name. Her rise, her glory, her conquering. All various and all holding a sliver of both lies and truth. Though one thing that remained was the queen herself was nothing short than fearsome. She ruled as the imperial queen for a reason and that wasn’t because she was tenderhearted. Quite the opposite really.
Even he as the blood of her knew this.
With doors being aided to shut behind himself as not to allow any stray streak of unwelcomed light into the chamber, he noticed her hands were busy tending to something. Although he dare not ask or show actual intrigue into it; it was mentally placed into his thoughts. Rather raising chin up a moment and down the next with a proper bow to that of the ruling monarch. Daring not to offend her even accidentally even if she made no effort to stand in reply to him. By no means was she a loving parent, and he knew his part well now to understand that he was but a pet. Easily removed too.
A mere flick of the fingers would be all it took.
Rather than speaking too soon, Theon crossed and appropriately knelt at that of feet. A customary familiarity that assured he did not raise gaze up to even glimpse upon features that were no longer as radiate as that of the painting behind her. Busying his sights with the watchful flicker of shadows being imposed upon by firelight. Holding tongue a moment longer as not to show any sort of eagerness or faltering with lack of thought, he idly felt the discomfort of stitches in his side pulling at his kneel.
“Failure, your majesty.” To call her mother would be incorrect. “The fallen princess Araminta, has completed the third trial. Also receiving gifts from I believe the fae king within the enchanted forest. But I am not sure.” He was not about to say he knew what a royal fae looked like, “I would be remiss to say I would know it to be entirely correct.” Lending his lack of understanding to show he wasn’t that knowledgeable. “I’ve also failed to kill her as you commanded.” Theon mentally tensed at this admission but dared not stop as to fail to give her information. “Although from what I’ve witnessed, the girl has not succeeded the trials with skill.” He made no effort to offer an excuse or thought as to why he believed this.
Merely that he bent back to humble himself further to floor without actually putting his face into it. “It is by the queen’s will that I await your selection of punishment for completing nothing, your majesty.”
His declaration of failure came to no surprise to her, or at least not enough to draw any sort of visible reaction. However, the moment he mentioned the favor of a fae king… the Imperial Queen’s fingers paused their strange winding of straw, drawing her cool grey eyes to stare at him directly. Astutely silent as he revealed he’d not killed the girl, despite the fact she appeared to be skill less and succeeding on luck alone.
“Surprising you would show this girl mercy when she thought herself too good for the likes of you. Choosing death over marriage. Choosing death over joining our beautiful empire. Wasted mercy on one who very much wants to die. Cruel even to let her continue forward, knowing that the trials crush the bodies and spirits of even the most strongest warriors in this land…”
The was an ice to her tone as she spoke, but her body remain as relaxed as could be in her comfortable leather chair. She didn’t wait for his explanation, however, resuming the means of twisting the straw in her hands, now seeming to bind the pieces into an actual shape.
“My darling… the trials are not over. Therefore you have yet to fail me. …Unless you’ve come here to tell me now that you refuse my order? Are you refusing me, Theon?”
From what he heard Araminta say, it wasn’t that she found herself too good for him but rather she knew it was a death sentence. Her choices at the time were death or death through trials. Which thus far, she had been managing to survive where others didn’t or gave up. If he was to think about this rationally, it was better she selected the trials because well… she had a chance of survival. If it had been in marriage to him, into this empire – that was a no brainer. Of course he wouldn’t say such things to the Queen. Unless he was looking for a reason to be taken out back and lashed till he could no longer tell sight from taste.
Offering himself to listening without giving back the sound of looking for a way to rebuttal.
He’d been part of her court for how long as an adult. The means to an end even longer. To speak now would invite terrible consequences! Rather he was listening to see if there was anything sticking out as particularly odd. Unsurprisingly, nothing did.
Simply hearing the coldness in her voice was telling enough that she’d been disappointed but was still bestowing a sense of modest allowance. Even if he was not so convinced that Araminta wanted to die, nor did he think his behaviour was any act of mercy. Confusion, absolutely. Although he doubted the girl would be so open any further now knowing that he was no random imperial guard sent to observe but the very flesh that came from the same queen that sentenced her to the harrowing trials!
As much as he might have wanted to look up, Theon avoided doing so. Following the shadow of chair fluttering in the firelight whilst she continued. The sound of her hands molding, noticeable. Suggesting that while the trials were not near being over, his failure had not come yet. Even if he had been known to act far quicker than this.
Merely lowering head further, “No, your majesty. To refuse you would be equal to attempting to pull the sun from the heavens.” It was of course outlandish but he did know better. Feeling a need to chew the inside of lip as a strong aversion rolled in his stomach. “As your humble servant, I seek forgiveness no less for not fulfilling your gentle requests swifter. And lower myself under your forgiving nature, your Imperial Highness. Many are unworthy of your generosity, and I am no exception.”
“Forgiveness is for fools,” she stated simply, leaning back in her leather seat to regard him with new interest. Long, silent moments follows as her eyes examined the whole of him, from tip of dark red hair down to his very boots. No revelation befalling her features, no hint to what she was thinking. Only the winding of her fingers cinching twine tight.
She’d made a little straw doll.
“Perhaps you’ve grown bored with your duties,” she surmised out loud, watching him carefully as she suggested this. Then with a beckoning flick of her fingers, gestured towards one of the empty corners of the room.
A grizzly looking man stepped out of the very shadows, adorned in armor of rusted black and a cloak of crimson red. A nasty old scar had caved it’s way across an eye and the entire expanse of his face, like one hefty weapon’s blow had nearly cleaved his skull in half. Not a captain, nor a general, no man of station or power. But Theon knew him well as the man who overwatched the farm, a horrifying place where people went in whole but came out as flayed and butchered pieces of hollowed meat.
“Gusteau always finds so much joy with his work. He will be sure the girl does not surface again. Do you wish him to take over your duties as witness?”
There could not have been a more loaded question as the Queen did not give choices without there being a consequence. In fact, she even scooted to the edge of her plush seat, almost delightfully eager to know what option he’d choose.
“Do you?”
No, forgiveness was human.
Just he was certain that if she had once been that, she was no longer. Just a shell of someone wearing human skin that took wicked delight on making others suffer for her own benefit. Assuring that if any were to survive that they lived under her thumb. Her control.
Was it a surprise even after his efforts of being made to grovel at the feet of someone who didn’t particularly care whether he lived or died, that she would suggest even after all of this that he was still invalid. Questioning if he had grown bored with his duties.
Rather than just fathoming that he had no sentiment which way or another.
However, it seemed that she wanted to make a stronger example all the more. The sound of heavy footsteps being enough to make his skin crawl without having to look up at Gusteau’s face. Reminding that the man who was more butcher than guard, knight or even mercenary; took sweet bliss in being sure none made it out alive at all.
Listening to the woman that was mother and he gave a dedicated pause to show thought rather than frantically scrambling to give into whatever response came first. Letting lids shut and head dip further that it officially touched the ground. No longer kneeling but prostrated, “To assume I can make such a choice would be taking your right to decide, your majesty.” As much as he may have wanted to say otherwise and knew Araminta did not wish for another, there was no good answer for him to give. To say yes he was bored would affirm he had been neglectful in more of his duties than just this. To say no, would imply he thought himself better than being ordered to her whim.
In the end, he had to release and accept whatever call the queen made. Be it back to the witness or having his own head hacked away. “What you wish done can only be made by your Imperial Queen. As is your right.”
As she watched him, her own flesh and blood head bent to floor, a slow winsome smile spread across her features. Absolute fealty to her desires was the correct answer. The only answer that the Imperial Queen would ever accept. He could have made a choice either way for certain, and it would’ve meant quite different things. But assuring his life was in her hands, was exactly where she needed him to be. No questions of her orders, no thoughts of his own. Simple obedience.
“Then my darling son, do finish the job you have been given,” she bequeathed him with a wave of her hand. “I would not trust the future of our very empire at the hands of some lesser thing. That girl has somehow gained favor with the faerie kingdom and even swayed you from your own duties. Do not let her live long enough to make a fool of me.”
Her cold steel eyes shifted then from him down to the little straw doll in her hands. With that smile, so soft and sweet, she held it out for him to take.
“Throw this in the fire, Theon. Then leave me.”
It was nearly pathetic in his own mind that he had a frail hope that she would just end him here. Cut his leash to a slack and allow that of his own lifeblood to absorb into the floor. To be done with this all, and yet, he had answered correctly. A part of him hissing at the fact that it was correct and his loyalty was once more cemented to someone that only cared for herself, her power, her control.
Alas, this was the choice at the end, wasn’t it.
Daring to wait further as she spoke that he was to complete the means of his orders. Kill the girl that had shirked not only the favour of the immeasurable queen, but had earned favour from the fae.
Ever so gradually did he rise after she assured her words had been heard like a ringing church bell. Wisely avoiding looking at anything more than hand offering the straw doll. With a request to take the doll and toss it into the flames. Unsure if it was linked to someone’s life or not, he couldn’t refuse the mere asking. Saying nothing but gingerly took the item from hand –avoiding touching her hands less he insult her further- to rather crawl on knees to flame.
Without a second hesitation did he toss the very thing into the flame. Keeping his gaze away from it landing amongst the logs, from Gusteau and from the queen. Being sure to rise slowly with a deep formal bow that assure his measure of her worth was shown in such an action. To turn and leave her room less he incur some dissatisfaction further; his mind thought deliberately.
It would be difficult his next course of action but it was evident he had two options now. One easier than the other in a sense. He’d have a bit of time to figure out how to make it happen of course, seeing as he would meet the woman once more at the next trial.
Just he wasn’t so foolish to think that his mother wouldn’t send a new set of eyes to watch from afar. It’d have to be a swift action… that was for certain.
“Do you wish me to follow, your majesty?” asked Gusteau with a gruff, yet hopeful lit.
“There is no need. He’ll do as he is told, one way or another.”
With such an ominous statement, the Imperial Queen Heirra held out her hands towards the fireplace and the smoking flames within. As the straw doll burned down to ash, the ensuing smoke curled and coiled towards the Queen’s waiting palm. It swirled there and collected until it spun itself up into the form of a shadowy dragon, preening it’s black wings and long tail.
The Queen smiled and pulled it close to her crimson painted lips, uttering a simple whisper.
Theon.
Puffing a small plume of smoke the shadow creature spilled onto the floor, zipped it’s way across the room and disappeared out the crack of a glass paned window.