Araminta was having a far better time of things. At first.
The Ghost’s – Theon’s, she was going to have to get used to the name – hut remained a safe place for her to get her wits together and make her plans. Taking the necessary time to rest, as she promised, while not neglecting the fact she needed to prepare for a much longer distance of travel and a trial that was going to be tricky. Araminta also knew she’d have to be prepared to meet a different witness, a potential new assassin should Theon not be the one waiting for her there. Was the Queen the sort to punish and harm her own son, Araminta wondered? She was certainly cruel enough to use him as a destructive force against those she wanted to disappear.
She expected the worse, but hoped the man found a way to keep going. That maybe he’d seen courage in her and found some in himself too.
Once the princess had worked enough to buy herself a new cloak and a fair amount of supplies, she sent out on her long journey to the fourth trial. Even a nice new sturdy stick to work on a new staff. On her third day of walking she came across a fork in the road, where a dusty looking gentleman was sprawled out on the ground seeming very much not alive! When she scuttled over to him to check for breath and pulse, Araminta earned a warning knife to her cheek before the wily bastard snatched her pack right off her arm!
“Don’t you dare!” she shouted at him, already swinging her staff with every bit of strength she had to thwack him before he could jump to his feet, only for someone behind her to grab the branch flush out of her hands and break it over his knee. The crestfallen look on her face was devastating. That’d been an especially good stick.
“What we got, Billy!” called out a third voice. Araminta was finding quickly that this was an entire ambush of rogues, yet before she could get any ideas to bolt one of them snatched her up off her feet.
“Looks like a bunch of witch’s junk. Worthless,” said the disappointed jerk that’d played possum in the street. “Oh wait, oh ho ho! What’s this now, gentleman!”
He’d found her signet ring, and while it didn’t precisely say exactly who she was, such symbols were still very much the popular proof of noble standing.
“I stole it,” she explained in an instant. “I stole it from lady.”
“Could be true,” said the one that was holding her tight, even when she attempted to scramble and kick her legs. “Think we should sell her to Hopper and let ‘im figure it out?”
Araminta stopped her kicking, appalled at the very thought. “You can’t sell me, I’m a person!”
The entire group of rogues all paused blinking at her in pure stunned delight. All at once they erupted into knee slapping laughter. Repeating her scandalized statement in different pitches of false horror. The Possum player tossed her leather bag full of her supplies and trial items into the bushes, despite her shrieking pleas for him to not leave it behind. Those items with irreplaceable..! Or at least, she didn’t want to have to do the trials all over again just to get them back!
“Time for a wee nite nite, miss,” said the all too jovial jerk that refused to let her go. A hefty gloved hand went over her nose and mouth, a sickly sweet smell sent her stomach rolling. She struggled hard against it, knowing if she didn’t show up at the next trial, Theon was going to assume she wisely abandoned the trials altogether now that she knew the dangers. The more she tried to wriggle and scream the more that nauseating scent seeped in until she slumped over like a noodle.
Araminta did not make it to the fourth trial. Instead having been carted away in the exact opposite direction.
Give or take a day.
Well he had certainly given more than the allotted time to meet the girl at the next trial. And then some. Knowing that even had he travelled so swiftly, he still should not have been so many days ahead of Araminta. Unless she had gotten head deep into her next idea of a plan which could have included any amount of variables! With no real idea of what she was planning, he couldn’t say he would know how long it would take her to arrive at all.
Although if she were truly smart, she would leave these trials. To flee to another land entirely that was not under the control of the Imperial Queen. Even that alone would be akin to a trial but it might have better results than this.
The only downside he could see was the tether that latched him all the same. A problem of his own, while he prodded the small circle of rocks that housed a proper flame within. Feeling its heat as the means of waiting had required him to resort to foraging. Rehousing water within the skin and preparing a small meal that would do well to keep him functioning. Still, the girl did not arrive.
He found a small measure of quiet hope that Araminta had been smart. Fleeing entirely as to spare herself this wicked insistence of madness, but dared not go mentally further than that. Knowing that he would do little more than wait this final day before returning to the queen to express that it seemed the girl had fled. And await her next directive.
A snarling growl started behind Theon before the enormous form of a familiar white wolf padded softly into his line of view. The wings were missing, but she was one and the same. Nose to the ground snuffling and sniffing around his fire and entire campsite until she sniffed her way to his wounded side, where she snorted, shook her head… then eyed him with those deeply fathomless eyes.
Apparently not finding what she was actually looking for, and disappointed in what she did find.
This great white wolf circled him a second time, seeming to be pondering a next course of action, before finally sitting on the opposite side of the fire with a plop. Her massive fluffy tail curling around her paws.
The next snarl that came demanded an explanation.
This was not even remotely anything he expected to encounter. Let alone away from that of the enchanted forest itself. No matter knowing that many fae were plenty able to fend for themselves, they could and were still a hunted species. Rumours of them being useful for random witchy potions even to the commoners was nothing he was unaware of. Just he hardly believed to be looking upon the telling sign of the ivory luna. With her giving him a far too sentient look that expressed he was hardly the thing worth looking for!
If offense was to rise, it missed the wagon.
There was little to him to find worthwhile. Unlike the marvelous lupine herself.
Even as she snuffed and snorted –absently pressing palm to that particular spot as if he were apologetic for being so offensive- it seemed the resplendent beast wasn’t about to go trotting off. Much to his curiosity. Left to observe her form as she made like a hound to circle and come to a stop to plop. Staring at him in such a way that he almost felt a need to kneel before her as well.
It seemed to be a thing, now didn’t it.
Nor could he explain how he knew the sound she made was expecting something from him. In the verbal sense. “I do not know.” At least he could figure out she was had been in belief that the princess would be here. After all, this was the same beast that had made Araminta’s legs a suitable pillow. “My apologies.”
That certainly wasn’t the response the white wolf wanted to hear and she made sure to bare her teeth to express that displeasure. Despite knowing that what she sought wasn’t there, she still lingered. Watching him with those intelligent galaxy filled eyes. Leaning forward almost with her head into the fire, the glow casting her in such a ethereal warm light.
Why do you serve Bloody Heirra?
The question came almost as a voice on the wind directly whispered to his ears. Her mighty maw didn’t move beyond flash of angry fang to even be speaking the Imperial Queen’s name in thought.
Why?
His gut reaction was to ignore the strange flutter of voice in his ears. Alongside the way this she-wolf was expressively showing that she was not thrilled to be present here. Guessing to find him waiting rather than Araminta was akin to waiting for a sweet decedent treat only to find a fresh cow pie instead. It seemed fitting.
But he wasn’t about to get all spooked about having something unknown speaking in his ear. Although he did have to find some measure of intrigue that the fae were becoming invested now after all the years they had not. Araminta was starting to show she was far more than merely normal.
No less, it was in his best interest not to incur this faeling’s ire. “She is my mother. Whom else am I to serve?” Not that it was a good reply but it was truth.
The white wolf snorted and shook her head, seeming to deem this reply pure balderdash. Nonsense.
Yet after a few silent, thoughtful moments of her canine eyes looking him up and down, her head tilted curiously to one side.
Your father was born to us. And so too are you.
Came her soft, peculiar response. Her head tilted all the way to the other side.
Does your spirit not long to be free? Do you have love for the one that cruelly binds you?
As if the fire itself bore the very answers to every question, he peered at it. Idly taking stick to poke the burning bits inside to turn an even scorching. Noticing the way the beast’s head turned much akin to a dog with a high pitched noise. Thoughtful it was before he offered her a fire-lit silver look back at the mention of a parent born from fae and apparently it included him. Which he was not so sure of. If that were true, then why wait till now?
That wasn’t worth voicing. Seeing as it was childish and truly it offered nothing to this vague conversation anyways. Leaving him to think on the next, “Does a shackled bird from hatching know what freedom is?” He asked her back knowing that at least some of the enchanting animals were profound in their own ways. Clearly this white she-wolf was majestic and regal in her own ways. Smart too. “No. I do not have love for her. That is a shared sentiment. She is no more than my jailer and I her captive. Blood or not.”
He lifted his stare a bit further, “You wish for me to find the girl, then? To satisfy your will?”
The girl returned one of the forest to us, one we did not know was lost.
The head tilting stopped as the massive wolf slide from her seat across the fire and gently padded around to find a new seat next to him. Invasively close, deliberately so, shoving her furry against his and bumping her head against his cheek.
A big lick of tongue came next, a slobbery kiss across nose.
Your will is free. Do as you wish.
On that and a second slobbery lick, the wolf stood and shook out her massive coat of fluffy fur and trotted away. Stopping after a few paces to peer those deep pool eyes over canine shoulders.
You asked who else to serve if not Bloody Heirra. That is a good question to ask. Who else?
Glowing tail of ivory swishing, she darted off like a pure glistening moonbeam, to leave him wondering exactly that.
Returned him to them. Why did that sound so farfetched? Unsure if he could find belief in such sentiment when he hardly knew what the hell that sort of sentiment felt like! Rather giving her no action of accepting or declining the suggestion of being found at all. Merely watching this marvelous beast rise to stray closer to where he might have worried temporarily that she was going to fall into his entire lap. Rather than just settling temporarily near.
Doling out wet affection that had his spine practically tingling in near disgust and soft interest, while she spoke of saying his will was his own. Free to do as he wished.
A thought on that sounded absolutely wonderful. But, she stopped him from saying anything against it. Another wet lick and she rose to stand magnificently. Trying his best to lightly smear away the residual saliva from face as she darted forward. Leaving a otherworldly image in his stare before stopping. To give him another bit of information. One that was to be pondered, he knew.
The sharp ache echoed like a worn drum in his chest. Debating plenty of things but ultimately reaching to douse the fire under a squeeze of the waterskin. So he might gather up his gear to tuck safely away out of sight and to begin the means of searching for the one that was lost. Knowing he would need to move swiftly to do so.
Araminta did not enjoy traveling with scoundrels.
When threats of violence did nothing to scare her into behaving (especially when the one named Billy reminded them all that she was worth more unharmed), they attempted to keep her tied down in more physical ways. Being an especially clever little minx, Araminta discovered all sorts of ways to wiggle and untie ropes. Little tricks to snap them, unravel, or cut them on rocks. She’d even convinced one of the dumber ones to untie her a couple times and nearly got away from the campsite before she was tackled and dragged back.
They tried to put her in a makeshift cage of wood next, with quite similar results. After a day of examining the thing, she figured out where the weakness lied in wooden bars and rope tied seams. Needing nothing more than a few good kicks to break bars and snap corners.
She’d never seen a bunch of men get so frustrated and argue so badly as they did about her. They’d make crude remarks about her one minute, with talk of just keeping her. Then the next they’d be throwing punches and yelling about all the silver they could get for a virgin noble.
At that she muttered quite loud that she was a princess, and with a wicked sort of delight watched how that revelation had begun a crack of chaos amongst their ranks. Now it was talk of gold and bribes and who was getting what cut. Going to bed with their daggers in their hands in case someone decided to up and betray the band in the middle of the night.
It also landed her in a literal cage of iron to be extra sure she didn’t slip away again, much to her continued annoyance. They’d called it a faerie trap, as it was designed to hold a faeling creature in a way that prevented them from using their magic. Araminta was no fae creature, but the iron bars and sealed corners were too strong for her to break loose. Barely big enough to for a large dog, she was effectively very cramped and very uncomfortable. Miserable after days of travel inside the awful cage. Where they refused to feed her or let her stretch her legs, as she’d used up all of her chances and they now didn’t trust her in the slightest.
For the moment they’d made camp off the road, Araminta in her cage on the back of a wagon, while the scoundrels made merry around the fire. Drinking ale and laughing cheerily about the distance they’d made. Apparently they were nearly to the coastline, where this mysterious Hopper was going to make them all delightfully wealthy all for the exchange of a princess. While Araminta brooded, wondering if her bag was still where they’d tossed it in the bushes. The Imperial Queen didn’t mentioned a deadline for the completion of the trials, she could theoretically start over from the beginning…
It took time truly to start tracking down the wayward princess that had yet to show her face at the trial destination. Leaving him little choice besides using the agile form that made travel so much more convenient. Of course the first thing he had managed to locate after a good while was some abandoned items that he knew for a fact were Araminta’s. After all, who else carried a pack with bog hag hair, harpy feathers and mushrooms in a brown bag. Unless they were some rather special people, the bag in the bushes surely indicated that the girl had been on her way.
Stopped at the fork in the road that had determined whether one went into dangerous territory or avoided it for the safety of the town on the right side of that fork.
It helped that in this form, his sense of smell was impeccable. And troublesome with the additional scents of males that grouped around Araminta’s. But it worked in his favour, though one might not consider the equine beast to be known for tracking, they too worked by scents rather than sight alone. Just he wasn’t particularly a normal horse, so add that on with the faeling blood and it worked well enough in his favour to made the efforts of triangulating down the scents that had been found at all.
Although it was no easy feat. Especially when the scents detoured or Araminta’s seemed scattered. Appearing here to there, there to here! Discombobulated that forced him to scout backwards in hopes to affirm which way was the correct way.
Her items hadn’t been gathered at this time. Rather left as they had been seeing as unless someone knew what to look for, it was unlikely anyone was going to go rooting around for the back. Nor did he have the means of fingers to carry it anyways. With one mission well in the works, it was well beyond nightfall before the sound of men alike drew the pointed ears. Slowing the measure of pace to a canter of a walk, sides heavily frothy from the extensive running from point A to point B, C, D and E in no linear line!
The grey dappled body was well slathered with sweat, causing the flare of socks to surely loose any sort of majestic frill that they would have had dry. Flaring the pink muzzle with a heavy exhale to snort through nostrils in a determined displeasure, it was a careful picking of motion to give a berth to the smell of campfire and noise. Leaving ghostly gray eyes to prickle unusually upon long face with the means of understanding that most horses lacked. Avoiding the obvious road that would be easy to use to see whom gathered, ears flickered back and forth out of unison. Leaving him a chance to hear from multiple angles till the heavy clomp of hooves stepped across brush and stone alike to find his attempt to veer further away from the grouping, not nearly as successful.
Granted, unless one knew what to look for, it was likely to assume this form was merely a wild horse. He lacked the misty fog of a mane that most Nokken would have had in this form nor was he a dazzling white either. Dappled certainly with the ivory but nowhere ethereal. The only part that was odd was the lenses born. Not the blue white that some horses developed, as mentioned but gray.
Still, it would seem with head raising up higher than the eight hand height at his writhers, ears perked forward. Alert as tail flipped giving a raspy nicker at the grouping of fellows whilst attention noted the cage tucked upon a wagon. It would seem Araminta’s good luck hadn’t been on her side to become a captive to… well he wasn’t sure who these men were. Not that it mattered.
The group of scoundrels were having an intense discussion about where to spend their soonly acquired chest full of gold. Though there were lots of disparaging comments on how much gold the girl would actually fetch, when they still had no idea of what country the princess actually belonged to. While a pair of them seemed to have an obsession with following the royal bloodlines of the twelve kingdoms (to which they were promptly made fun of for being Nobility Fans, as if the nobles were as entertaining to watch as theater dramas), they were starting to wonder if the girl had told the truth in the beginning that she’d actually stolen the signet ring.
Then with a snort whinny of a horse, they all froze around the fire, turning heads with bewildered expressions at the grey stallion that all but walked into their meager camp.
“Damn, lookit that. Can’t be a wild one, steppin’ up like this.” said one.
“Hey Thornwald, go throw a rope on that thing. Looks fine enough to get some extra coin.” said Billy, taking a deep drink of his ale.
Thornwald scoffed and shook his head almost violently. “I ain’t about to get bitten by no wild horse, this miss done chomped my arm enough!”
The group gave a good loud chuckle on that one, jokes flying that Thornwald got what he deserved, another chiming in that he’d let a princess bite him all over. Araminta made a very disgruntled annoyed sigh from within her cage, but was now growing curious enough to twist about to catch a glimpse of this horse they were going on about.
“Well, I still ain’t doin’ it.” Thornwald insisted.
“Coward,” exclaimed Billy, passing his mug to one of the others then reached over to gather up his bow and quill of arrows. “Better for the meat, anyway! We’ll be feasting for free!”
“You can’t eat a horse,” shouted Araminta from her cage with alarm. “If he’s tame, he is someone’s companion!”
That drew out more laughter from group and a series of chortled commentaries. She’s too good for horse meat! and You can have the first leg, if you’re so hungry! and some idiot quietly muttering My cousin married a horse, which did not seem true at all, nor something that felt like should be admitted in public company.
Regardless Billy the Scoundrel was already notching and arrow ready to shoot this dumb, while the rest of his drunk and laughing band scattered out of the way. Apparently Billy was a bad shot when sober and even worse when not, and they were delighted to holler so.
A single word came to mind.
Moron’s.
These fellows appeared to be nothing more than a group of clustered fools that talked louder and drank more than they probably should have. The sort that were prone to blustery acts of action that were nothing more than showboating. Dangerous in their own rights but hardly what one might consider worth preparing heavily for.
Dully he considered the uproarious group a moment longer. Hearing their comments though he huffed a bit noisily at them. Deciding to step through their encampment even as it appeared they went from potentially trying to catch him to now eating him! Which invited Araminta to cry out about how such a thing was unjust. Spurring the foolish bandits into behaving all the more like dolts. If he could have rolled his eyes, he would have.
Regardless apparently someone was intending to take a shot at him! Dispersing fellows away –that was never a good implication- as tail flickered with boredom ruling. Migrating himself further into their camp with obvious intention to stray his gait towards the wagon and caged woman. Offering a lazy look over writhers at the grouping whilst debating his options.
This horse just tromping into their camp without a care in the world, was such a delightful moment of weirdness for the drunken scoundrels that they were practically howling with laughter and slapping knees about it. Even moreso when Billy let loose an arrow – completely missing the HUGE horse, much to their cackled amusement – and nearly shot the princess instead with the arrow zipped through her cage.
“He can’t even hit the broad side of a horse’s ass!” wheezed one of the taller fellows so hard he was doubled over trying to catch his breath.
“Shut up!” snarled Billy. “Get the ropes and catch the damn thing!”
A couple shuffled searching for some loose rope and got to work tying up some nooses.
“Guess she a virgin after all, unicorns love a good virgin!” remarked another.
“It’s no unicorn, you idjit, it’s a fucking horse!” exclaimed his partner, striking the man roughly on the back of the head.
Araminta made another frustrated, annoyed sound. Red in the face and wishing the louts would stop talking about her so. Yet when that horse came closer, she scuffled as far back in her cage as she could get and pulled her legs close – more than certain that lunatic with the bow was likely to miss again and kill her in the process!
“Hey buddy, come on and look thissa way,” Thornwald finally found the gumption to get involved in this wild horse chase, noosed rope in his hands while he tried to give it a good toss around the horse’s neck.
He’d met a variety of people in his years but this was starting to take the cake. Just how much did they drink to get so loud and rowdy with not only laughter but the crudeness of their own tone’s. Although he felt a sense of near panic melded with a sensation of relief as the arrow whizzed into the cage. Something between wondering if he might be lucky that someone else killed Araminta and also being greatly relieved she wasn’t suddenly sporting a new fletched addition to herself.
However, these turnip brains were at it some more. Getting each other more worked up by the second while mentioning a unicorn and virgin. Earning a fresh glimpse in their direction before moving his frame along that of the wagon’s side. Considering the work of it a long moment whilst the giggle crew went on their banter of… lunacy? It surely felt like it.
It might have been easy to give the wagon a strong enough kick that it could start rolling, but that didn’t secure the safety of Araminta either. And it didn’t seem as though they left the beast of burden strapped in either, otherwise he might have just gotten the other kicked up that they’d start running. Neither of them were very good ideas, so it left one other.
Turning rump around to the beckon of the twit that was telling him to look this way.
Alright, he’d look.
Turning his head right around to assure that it might have a good chance of being caught. Watching the lariat moving through hands before giving it a toss that thankfully was done by this fellow rather than the one that tried to shoot an arrow.
Making its way over head and neck to cinch, there might have been a moment in time where he felt a rush of excitement thrum through his veins. Catching the other man’s eye before he was assured the fellow had a good grip. Just in time for him to jump back onto rear legs. Rearing up with a wicked bellow from throat and stomped back down. Jerking violently to the right to buck and spring into a leaping sprint. They wanted to catch him, well, they had been be in for a good ride then!
“Oh fuck,” came the startled cry of Thornwald as all of a sudden he found himself dragged along at the speed of wind. His companions bursting into fresh rounds of hollers and hooting, shouting words of encouragement to the man to hold on! and get up on his back!
None of which were attempting to be helpful in the slightest, only yelping wild sounds and dive rolling out of the way when the horse came barreling a run too close to one of them. Leaving poor Thornwald to be dragged ragged until his body slammed face first into a tree and he was knocked out cold.
The group were going to laugh themselves into a drunken haze at this point, if the horse didn’t kill them first.
Not ones to be made fool of by a wild horse, the ones still standing realized it’d take a team effort to actually capture the wild animal. Two of them this time trying to get a pair of loops around the horse’s neck, while a third tried to block the beast’s means of running so it wouldn’t take off with any bodies again.
Billy, having been embarrassed enough with his bad shot, took up a sword this time. Ready to lop the horse’s head clean off the second he had a chance.
There was a pleasant satisfaction knowing that one had been goaded into holding on like an idiot. Only to be struck up against a tree so a means of impromptu forced slumber was made to occur. Had he been a real horse, he could only imagine what these men might be up against. A wild horse was not to be taken lightly. And he was considered a stallion, had he been a mustang rather than a Clydesdale, the hooves alone could have been a bloody death. Seeing as the mustang’s feet were slightly pointed, ready to stomp, crush and stab someone to death that they felt was infringing upon their personal space.
Alas, he was still mortal. Just with more sentience that was not making itself dually apparent. As if he showed it, he suspected these fools might try something far more hazardous.
Right now they settled to try and team him into submission. Forcing him into a block with hopes that he might not get away. Urging the means of rounding around and rearing up once more. Slamming hooves down one way then bucking the next. Kicking out with ripping snorts, thrashing with every intention of refusing to stay stationary. Not sure who he felt getting a hoof print into the chest, just that they were shortly removed from the picture.
Making due effort to stamp around to ensure that if they didn’t roll away, he was going to make them paste upon the earth’s soil.
It was the flash of metal that nearly hacked too close to him that warranted a means of tactics to be changed. Barely avoiding –feeling its grazing slash rushing by flesh in hopes to part it- mist seemed to burst from where it could have struck. Venting outwards in a chilly rush, using the shroud as a effort to hide his smaller form a moment before that of enflamed heat burst forth to catch someone square in the face. Allowing him to strife sideways with sword drawn, clattering metal against metal. Wielding with two hands to drive his weight behind the carving arch, leaving the means of registered dispassion to linger to features of human variety once more.
Someone got a hoof to the chest, sending them barreling back against the wagon’s edge and Araminta tried her best to grab at him through the bars of her cage. Hoping she could paw at chest and pockets to find that blasted iron key, but inevitably losing her grip as he slumped to the ground and out of her reach.
All amusement from the group had vanished at this point, realizing now this horse was too much damn trouble. Ready to abandon this madhouse chase — only to be too late when icy mist launched outwards in every direction. Several startled and confused curses let out of Oh fucks! and what the shit! as horse completely vanished, leaving an armored man in it’s place. Another scoundrel on the ground having been uppercutted with a fist of flame. The rest scattered back out of the way, unsure of what to do next.
Except for Billy and his sword clashed against this now very human looking being.
“Fucking fae,” he spat with a surprising amount of venom in his voice for someone who was so jovial before. Apparently that faerie trapped they stuffed Araminta in wasn’t just a lucky item on hand, and this was a band of rouges that made their very business in stealing away fae-folk and selling them to the highest bidders.
“Get the irons!” he shouted to the two still standing.
One went running to the back of the wagon and as he went grabbed for iron chains it was Araminta who grabbed his arm in return, holding on for dear life with both her arms and her legs! Hopefully holding him long enough for Theon to not be overwhelmed!
This one truly did have rocks for brains. Likely dropped down a flight of stairs as a child and the parent of them just decided not to bother taking them to a medic. Leaving the boy rendered stupid for the rest of his natural life! Seemingly about to challenge that very notion with their swords clattering against another. Metal scraping across metal as the slurring term of lacking endearment came uttering his way. One had to wonder what they might say next if they were to learn that he was not merely half a fae but also the son of the Imperial Queen.
That thought however seemed to be laced in bile. For it made his head ache and his thoughts sunder apart with a strong distaste.
No, there was no use flaunting that collar around. Not when there was the shout to grab the means of irons in hopes to bind him down. Enough of a threat that he wanted no part of it. While iron may not be as potent against him, it still caused issues. It still hurt like a raging inferno and he didn’t feel the need to start showing off that even half blooded could be affected by such a generic piece of metal. Making a move to backpedal with swords dropping and raising the other foot to kick the brute in the belly. At least enough to startle or push him back to get some room. He didn’t need him to falter over, just to back up.
Enough to shut his own eyes with a bright orb of light itself bundling into hand, to be used like a flash bang. Throwing it at the man’s feet to implode upon impact, while turning to hasten step after the two that had gone chasing the idea of getting any bit of iron. Finding that the princess had certainly gotten her arms around a man in particular, allowing him that moment of breathing room but hardly the time to start spilling appreciation. Switching from the means of light magic back to flame. Repeating the same sort of actions he had hurled at the harpy in trial one, Theon angled the balls of concentrated flame at the men nearest the cage.
Just as he approached himself with an intention of grabbing at the cage, there came the little bit of information he had not thought of himself. Jerking back immediately as if it had been him set aflame, feeling the brandishing scorch of the fae cage pressing into palm. Frowning and internally cursing up several expletives, it would seem the idea of just forcing the cage open somehow wasn’t going to work. They were going to need a key and it was likely on one of the men. “Which one?” Theon asked as if Araminta would know, “With the key, do you know?”
That first flashbang sent Billy into a blinding yowl, tripping over the scattered items of their messy campsite as he furiously tried to clear up his vision. His last two men got themselves a singe of crispy clothing — one flailing to the ground trying to roll and dodge immediately, while the other being trapped by Araminta’s clinging got a hell of a nasty sunburn so bad that one could smell his flesh burning! When she released him, he collapsed to the ground in a pained faint!
“Theon,” she exhaled, so surprised, and so very glad to see him! Yet it seemed the scoundrels hadn’t lied about the cage being a faerie trap, as even for Theon there was truth to the iron cast curse.
She’d opened her mouth to point out the brute with the key… only for that very culprit to come swinging his sword down once more! Narrowly missing the form of Theon himself to crash metal of swords against iron cage, drawing a surge of sparks and the smallest of yelps from the princess.
“Foulfated fuck,” he snarled the awful slur towards faerie blood, wildly swinging that sword again. Perhaps both too drunk and too full of madness to really control his own stumbling actions.
Brows lifted at the exhalation of his name. Not even sure he knew what to do with such a sound but found it made a soft delightful pressure on his chest. Surely not unpleasant though the smell of burning flesh and singed hair was hardly something he wanted to smell at this particular moment either. Nor the way his hand practically ached in terrible burning from grasping at the cage at all. Sure he was going to have quite the thoughts about this blasted contraption later!
What they needed right now was the key. No amount of battering or threatening to even attempt melting it was going to be safe for Araminta. So the most logical of choice was to query if she knew where the key was. Which apparently was about to help himself forward.
Crashing the sword blade into the cage, startling him to barely sidestepping in a clumsy wobble. Turning right around only once he was stable on the back of the wagon to look at the man that was well… snarling at him. “I’m starting to think you have a bit of a crush on me with the way you keep cursing.” Offering a shy bit of a lip, yet someone could have told his deadpan face to offer some motion of expression to allow the quip to be smarting in some suggestion.
Just that there was little bit of time lacking when this one was apparently akin to a bull. Thrashing about with a weapon in hand. Spurring him to jumping off the wagon with the hope that this one was mad enough to follow. Pulling his own sword forward once more. Readying it with a decision to be made. Which apparently had him looking to Araminta.
To kill this man or to merely knock him out.
Nothing was more frustrating than being stuck in a cage while some madman was cursing up a storm and swinging a sword, and you couldn’t do anything to help! Not wanting to shove her hands through the bars again and risk Billy lopping off one of her arms, she had to watch with a shar intake of breath while Theon dodged out of the way.
Araminta really oughtn’t have been so worried, though. Theon had all under control and his whole wits about him, while the flailing rogue was so busy being furious that a fae had encroached on his drunken merriment, that he really wasn’t much of a threat at all on his own. The rest of his band either already unconcious or presently groaning on the ground.
Then Theon looked to her and she froze for a split second, before quickly shaking her head. Araminta wasn’t sure how she knew what the question was. Maybe it was just that natural instinct when being raised an authority figure. Only she was certain this was seeking an answer to Billy’s fate.
Miming the motion with her hand as if she was holding the sword, she made a little clonking on the head gesture complete with a clock of her tongue.
While Araminta wasn’t keen on these bawdy, rude bandits, she also wasn’t about to sentence them to death either.
This was by far not an common occurrence for him. Fighting the drunk was one thing, but one currently waving around a sword as if it were no more than a spoon, was certainly worth keeping his distance. Fae or not, he still bled all the same. Could lose body parts! It was not on the agenda right now, though the way this fellow kept hacking and slashing, it was about to push the means of his ability to the limits.
Perhaps all the more reason why he stole a look to Araminta. Gauging what she wanted in this moment which surprisingly she seemed to catch on. Once more proving that she was far more than just a simple pretty face that once had a crown on her head.
Backstepping again to keep avoiding the wild weapon, Theon watched her make the gesture. Needing additional moments to gather what it meant before seemingly nodding. Once more stepping back to narrowly evade another slashing flail. Repeating the efforts to keep putting some distance between them and her cage –in case this drunk got a fresh new idea to attack Araminta in her hold. Only when he was sure of the few feet of distance, did he wait once more for the man to aim his weapon to strike. Prepping his own with two hands upon the hilt and drove his own upwards. Striking metal against another with a whiny protest, feeling the weight of the other being pressed into the effort to bare down.
It was easy enough to merely let go of his sword and let the other man fumble when there was lack of resistance any further. Stumbling forward the angry sod went and to the right he slipped. Pivoting on foot with the momentum of the forward motion to use the man’s weight this time to aid driving up a fist into the soft abdomen with force from both points. Feeling the squish of flesh melding about as breath drove violently outwards with spittle accompanying. Though the man was a little heavier than he originally thought –forcing his own feet to stumble in the means to hold the man temporarily upright so he didn’t fall on his sword; Theon frowned deeply at the unpleasant sensation in hand and stitched side alike.
No less, it seemed suitable enough to say the ballistic soul was for now, set to slumber. Pushing him backwards while grabbing his shirt to try and lever him down to the ground –waddling with the effort- a heavy breath moved from lips. Standing momentary to point, “Key? Is it this one?”
Billy was going to have one hell of a nasty headache later, and Araminta sincerely hoped he ached for days!
In the meantime she finally released a relieved breath, briefly glancing around to be sure none of the others were planning to get up off the ground and cause more problems. There was quite a bit of groaning, but no quick movements. At least they weren’t so drunk that they planned on tempting their fates. Araminta imagined that later they’d all get a nasty lecture from Billy and be sporting quite a mean tale about herself and the horse that saved her.
She almost smiled, but it wasn’t quite time to relax just yet.
“He also has my ring,” she replied, gripping the iron bars in her hands and giving a worried furrow of her brow. “The key is iron too, please be careful.”
Easy enough did he bend down to start patting down king drunk to feel for that of a ring and unfortunately an iron key. The latter was found a lot quicker when he veered too close. Jerking hand back once more as if the damn thing had been red hot and looking to sear the flesh from him. Making sure he knew it was not about to play nice at all. Actually at this point he was starting to get annoyed from the iron present. Beginning to set brows into a purposeful glare –even if it was barely more than a mere scrunch of nose and brows in tandem.
Grabbing at the man’s shirt to tug and stretch with little consideration to perhaps give him something to wear, it came loose. With some help of the blade that was picked up after a moment. Cutting a good chunk out of Billy’s shirt so it could be used to grab the key from inner breast pocket and fling it towards Araminta’s cage. Knowing damn well that the shirt wasn’t going to help him for longer than a few seconds! Loathing what it had to feel like for a proper fae!
With it flung to be closer, he went back to searching. Digging around with a bit of hesitation –less this big lard was wearing a bent iron nail around as a necklace, it seemed to take longer to find the ring. Tucked away in pocket with a bunch of various other things that were of no use to him. Not about to rob these men either, the overall process of looking took five or so minutes. Coming up victorious to consider the seal of the ring before stepping over. Closer to the wagon, to pause. Looking at the key that had been tossed and once more grabbing the scrap of shirt –he wasn’t about to throw it away- to wrap up the item. Swiftly tossing it up to the wagon before he followed suit. Nudging it with foot in quick successions to push it close to the cage. Giving Araminta a look that hoped she would be able to unlock the cage herself.
As he wanted no more business with the metal pieces right now.
“I’ve got it,” she assured him, reaching out through the iron bars as soon as the key was in reach. Araminta snatched it up with shaking fingers, the scrap of dumb Billy’s shirt discarded while she retrieved the key, making an awkward bend to set it in the iron made lock and twist. A whispered thank goodness slipped out when it clacked open, giving her just the boost of energy needed to toss the lock as far away as possible and kick open the cage door.
Crawling out and getting to her feet was wobbly at best, stumbling at worst, but Araminta was up in an instant, moving to grab the Ghost’s hands for a close examining inspection.
“Are you alright?” she asked immediately, turning palms upward and touching softly with the tips of fingers to be sure there wasn’t any serious burns. With all the fire he could fling, she was surprised that iron could such a damage at all!
He was liable to praise some sort of greater deity at the means that she had the key and was able to unfasten herself from that blasted contraption! Finding that while he might have more blood on his hands than he could accurately recall, he had never harmed the fae themselves. Finding this boorish cage to be something that actually irritated him. Setting private nerves aflame with a want to somehow make it disappear. Once she was free that is.
There was little time to really consider ways he could try to make it obsolete. With Araminta faltering a moment before catching so she could draw so close to him. Widening stare somewhat at how she took upon his hands at all. Asking such a frivolous question when it had been her that was captured like some rat for auction.
Spurring that strange sort of tingling down his spine with the barest graze of fingertips. “Yes.” There was little that could be done anyways about the blasted iron tinge and they had no business lingering here anyways. The men weren’t dead after all. Some slightly fried and others knocked out of their senses but not dead. It wouldn’t be wise for them to stay here to have a conversation.
Twisting palm free and around to tangle itself over her own, Theon glanced towards one of the men that was groaning. “Come.” Insisting they best be leaving. Taking a few steps to assure her that there was little room to argue before releasing and allowing that spillage of mist to once more arise. Allowing transformation back to the gray equine, tossing head with a stamping of hooves to declare she was to mount up. Rattling head back and forth to toss mane before slightly bowing due to the height she would need to leap.
What an absolutely magnificent and extraordinary thing he was! Araminta already quite admired him as a stoic and gentle hearted man, and now to see he could shift along the mists into such a beautiful fae creature made him all the more impressive. She so very much wanted to give that dappled grey coat a soft pet, but to linger here in the scoundrel’s campsite would be a very foolish thing to do.
…it was also a terrible time for her to mention to the Ghost (as a misty grey horse, he seemed even more ghostlike, she decided) that she was a terrible rider even with the most secure of saddles, let alone bareback. A little skittish about equine creatures, if only because they were so very large and tall. It was a long way to fall if a horse decided it didn’t like you and even easier to get crushed!
Swallow that hesitancy, she did as he bided. Uttering a soft apology when she had to tug his flowing mane to help pulled herself up on his back. A strange thing to ride on top of a horse that was actually a man, but at least it wasn’t unlike being carried around on the back of one of her brothers, if she thought about it that way. Even so, Araminta wasn’t sure she had the stamina to even run on her own legs after being stuck in that cage for days.
“I am… I’m ready?” she affirmed once she was settled. Araminta felt awfully bad about clinging to his mane, yet she was so certain she’d fall off otherwise!
It may have seemed she was unsure about herself when finally settled upon back. Though he rose slowly with attention dividing itself somewhat backwards to consider her perched there, it wasn’t as though he possessed the ability to speak in such a form. Understand yes, certainly. But once more this was hardly the time to start hashing out any sort of conversation of any type.
Feeling the grip upon the mane to hold herself steady, the means of taking from a mere stride to a bit of a canter was done in intervals. Gradually. Mentally staying alert to feel whether she was shifting strangely or might for some reason go flopping off either side. As far as he knew, riding a horse was standard things for a royal to learn. Merely for jaunting instead of striding off into battle upon a strong stead! Regardless, his attention was pinned to her as ears were often aimed backwards. Striking hooves across earth and stone with some detail to venture an idea to where they were within the realm. Periodically turning or changing direction seemingly with no reason, he made no point of ceasing their movement for what was likely a good hour and half.
Putting a great deal of distance between those men of malice and themselves. The thought was to head back towards the trial that was waiting to be taken but chose not to rush that yet. Detouring further into where the scenery may have seem familiar. Slowing gait to trot amongst the sparse birch trees that would grow thicker the further they moved inwards. Seemingly heading to the former hut that would work well as a map of barring. And to allow himself time to recuperate in turn.
Once his pace was to a walk, ears righted themselves forward. Watching the scenery around them out of habit but admittedly he was well into the means of fatigue at this point. Running in search of her for however long, to battling and tossing magical elements about and switching back and forth between that of his nokken abilities and human; it did drain.
One could only hope that Araminta at this point might be more willing to have a knife wrested into her grasp for any future endeavors!
Araminta completely gave up trying to keep track of where they were traveling after a few turns, realizing that somehow as this beautiful dappled horse, normal travel no longer applied. He moved through the land the way all fae did, without any sort of rhyme or reason, by some unseen road or unspoken rule that Araminta’s human mind couldn’t comprehend.
At first she remained a bit tense, having to shake off that harrowed feeling of being a trapped captive while also so focused on trying to remain upright. After a while it was easy to trust that he wasn’t going to suddenly bolt and topple her off, letting herself drift into a comfortable, restful silence. Having no issue at all with him unspeaking as a horse, just as she was with him as a man.
When she nearly nodded off right where she sat, Araminta had to shake herself into a more wakeful stance. Decided she was going to need to do something to keep herself awake.
“I am so glad you found me,” she muttered softly, reaching to give his smooth equine neck a soft pet. “I was worried you’d think I quit the trials and abandoned you to waiting. Though I’m surprised you found me at all! I think we made it almost to the coast and if they weren’t such wretched company I might’ve liked to see the ocean for the first time.”
Hands smoothed across neck, tugging his awareness back to the passenger rested upon back. Somewhat turning the long features to offer the unusual lens towards that of the dark haired woman. Finding that her words were soft but spoke volumes to her own testament. Surprised perhaps that someone was grateful he had done something. Actually that sentiment alone left him scratching his head figuratively. Unable to even count on one hand the amount of times someone had been content or happy that he did something for them. And if he were to count, Araminta few times might be the only one’s he could recall!
Never mind the way his chest felt about it.
Lightly the offer of a nicker was given. Expressing he heard her and understood plenty. Yet found pause in his own mind that she had never seen the ocean before.
What was so interesting about a giant body of water anyways?
He’d strode a while longer before the hut started to come into view. To where he would eventually pause and dip by front bend. Dropping hind quarters down shortly after that body met the ground in a effort of relief and exhaustion. Not to mention making it easier for her to climb off rather than leaping the six feet downwards! It would have been different if there was a saddle involved but he was sure as hell not putting on one!
Waiting a moment and perhaps another for Araminta to be successfully dismounted; he’d disperse the travel form once more. Leaving the same chilly mist that was better suited for water surfaces to stay abundant, fingers themselves flexed against the dull burn. Pressing into locks that were slick at the roots from sweat. “The white wolf…” Theon started feeling his own voice haggard with the want for sleep, “Came searching for you. She wanted me to find you. Otherwise yes… I believed you had given up on the trials.” He offered her gingerly, “As they will be perilous more so and I’ve… been issued once more to take your head, Araminta. The Imperial Queen is disappointed and will not allow a third time to happen before she sends someone far worse than one can believe.”
His hand rose to press upon the wood of the door. Pausing, then looking to her. “I believe… it would be in your best interest either to flee or for you to use that bone dagger.” With a push the door was moved inwards so he could hold it for her to enter, “I’m fatigued, it would not be difficult for you to slay me, Araminta. I’d welcome the chance for it, truthfully.”
Araminta couldn’t imagine what the beautiful fae wolf would want with her. Maybe a repeat of her plucking on her lyre, though that seemed like such a silly thing to travel so far for.
Then again, the fae could seem to travel such a grand distance in such a small time. Even if it did appear to have taxed Theon to near swaying exhaustion.
She was not surprised to hear that the Imperial Queen had reiterated her order and demanded he still give that killing blow. What did shock her and make her heart ache was that he’d actually asked her to take the knife to him. That he’d actually welcome death at her hands to avoid the twisted fate his gruesome mother was tryin to inflict on him! On instinct she reached to touch her bag where the knife lay, only to remember those rogues had tossed it off in the bushes along with everything else.
No bone knife, no lyre, no items from the trials! She was right at square one again with nothing to her name.
Maybe not nothing anymore, she thought, suddenly finding a great deal of fury welling up with that ache in her heart. Not her knight, not her responsibility… well, maybe he should be! Someone ought to show that witch of a woman that she couldn’t just use a man as a tool of murder under his soul and spirit had all but dried up into a numb raisin! Araminta wasn’t much, but she could survive and prove this captive prince that he too could defy the Imperial Queen if he just took the chance to do so.
“What a pair we are to welcome death so easily,” she chided instead, taking his hand to pull him inside the little hut.
In her last visit, she’d added even more to the sparse necessities beyond just the simple bedroll and pillow, with things she’d traded for at the village. A guard for the stone fireplace so sparks wouldn’t come floating out. A pitcher for water and a bin for washing up in. A few extra blankets were folded up in a wicker basket, and there was a painted clay vase sitting on the single table with a bundle of dried flowers.
Once inside she led him to the chair to make him sit, assured that the door was securely closed before moving back to him to assist with getting his armor off. Having an idea now of where the hooks and belts were after she’d tended to his wound some odd days before.
“I’m going to continue the trials,” she explained softly. “If she’s so afraid of me completing them, then I must continue. When someone else comes for me, I’ll… I’ll think of something. I’m certainly not going to kill you while you sleep, but… but I do wish you would run away yourself. You could go anywhere you wish? Anywhere away from her would be a better place.”
There was no resistance to that of her grasp. Tugging him indoors so eyes themselves could look upon the growing clutter. No longer merely a hut to hide, but it seemed to be taking on an appearance for living. Articulate by hands that were being made to endanger themselves. For a mad queens amusement. There was something truly wrong here, wasn’t it? That a twisted witch of a woman sat on a throne practically made of bone and a princess that managed to complete her tasks without bloodshed.
It was entirely wicked.
In mere seconds, he was made to sit. Looking upwards to the epitome of what he was starting to realize was genuine compassion rather than peculiarity. And hearing she speak of continuing. Refusing to sully her hands with his own blood. Surely others would express that if he fell, the queen would be without an heir. Although that would be assumed he believed he was at all.
Strangely, to be told she was going to continue the trials without rendering him no more than soil, Theo felt a great weigh press further to shoulders. Realizing behind the apathetic stare, that he had hoped she would give him this kindness.
To stop the cycle.
Gingerly he slumped. Cupping brow into palm, elbow to armrest.
It was not her battle to have. Nor should she be asked to dirty such fingers.
“There is no where in this world or beyond that she cannot find whomever she wishes. To flee would only invite chase from the Imperial Queen. And I believe she would find it thrilling.” His blood might be half of hers but he knew she did not see him as her own. She’d delight torturing him while practicing the delicate art of keeping him alive for eons.
Fingers curled and he knew the only option left was to do such things himself. A soul could be captured but not even the queen would be quick enough to take his while she was absent.
Leaning back to push grasp to chair, he motioned to get up. “Your belongings are still were they had fallen. Return to the fork in the road and you can proceed forward.”
Araminta placed a gentle hand on top of his head and held it there until he stopped trying to make the motion of getting up. He was absolutely NOT going to leave this hut until he was well rested. In fact, Araminta wasn’t sure if she’d let him leave her side at all anymore, if she could convince him.
What a relief to know her things were somewhere salvageable, though! It’d made this defeated, morose countenance easier to deal with. Easier to fuel that burning fire currently plotting and trying to understand what his mother’s higher plan was. Why was Araminta a threat to her? To order her killed was superfluous if Araminta was likely to die during the trials anyway. Was the Imperial Queen’s power so fragile that a single girl’s futile attempts to save her own kingdom somehow could shake it?
Twisting her mouth into a thoughtful frown, Araminta shifted quickly to sit at his feet and steel his boots off him before he tried to get away again. He wouldn’t leave without his boots, she figured.
“I was told long ago during one of my lessons that being born royal blood doesn’t mean anything if the people don’t want you there. The crown is a job you do to care for the people under you, and if enough people are angry enough, they’ll come take that crown away.”
Araminta stole his boots away and pushed them well out of reach just in case he thought to snatch them back. Then she was reaching up to unhook the clasp on his cloak.
“I don’t want you to die,” Araminta admitted softly. “You said I have courage for trying to save my kingdom even though I know it’s impossible. Let me lend that courage to you? If you have nothing left that you want in this world and are so ready to die, try something impossible?”
It seemed he was to remain. By the way her hand pressed and no sooner she was quite literally sweeping the boots off his feet! Adding to that means of bewilderment at all that was Araminta. What course was it of hers whether he stayed or not? After all, he told her his reasoning for being here and it was for her head rather than a witness. One would think that being told twice now that they had been charged with killing the other, the latter would prefer when the former left.
Yet, here they were.
Himself now bootless and giving Araminta his best tilt of head. Listening to her and trying to fathom what it was she meant about how the crown was a job. To take care of the people you governed. That if the masses were driven to upset enough, they would rebel. Just well, that hadn’t happened and his mother from his own knowledge was not your a-typical queen! There was far more to her than even he knew, but he knew that alone.
Next the clasp was removed and he was left watching her undress him as if he were some doll! Raising a lens upon her at the suggestion she did not wish for him to be terminated. Odd of an admittance that was too. “Impossible.” He repeated the word a few times, left to feel it’s sensation on tongue but ultimately just gave her another tilt of head. “Then what do you wish to do?” Seemingly looking more so for a command than that ability to think on his own!
Araminta knew she was doing a very dangerous thing in trying to wake up the queen’s son from this nightmare he’d spent his entire life in. If he decided to turn his back on his mother, the consequences would surely be deadly for himself. Who was she to upturn this man’s life? At least he was alive!
Except… she couldn’t stand to see those moments of sorrow in him every time he did something genuinely good, knowing it’d defy that beastly woman. Down in his heart he wanted something different for his life, and what sort of princess was Araminta if she just ignored someone’s suffering because she was too afraid to be involved? He deserved so much better than this.
Having to lean in close just to see where the belts and buckles were, Araminta set her attentions first to his shoulder guard, slipping it loose to set aside on the table with his cloak. Then she took his arm again, giving a brief lookover of his hand to be extra sure there wasn’t any residual burns before removing the pieces over his wrist.
“Me? I am just going to continue the trials, and if you decided to stay as my witness I’ll try to protect you as best as I can.” It was honestly the only thing Araminta knew she could do. Or at least try to do. Another impossible task.
“It is your life, Theon, you can do whatever you like. Though if you do decide to kill me after all, I’d like it to be somewhere pretty.”
What was it with certain people recently that were more interested in what could be done rather than simply what was being done. Unsure about why the white wolf or Araminta were curious to see him react differently.
Well, suppose he knew why. Just for him it was so out of left field that it was likely to be considered a feat of impossible strength.
No less, when she was apparently really about to try to pull him out of the armour like he was a girl’s doll, it managed to get a reaction from him. Shifting some and making a reach to politely shoo her hands from going any further. She’d gotten enough and he wasn’t about to be babied. The action and the feeling was enough to start making him feel rather uncomfortable.
“I don’t need you to protect me, Araminta. You’ll have to focus on protecting yourself.” Theon moved in the seat then, to indicate he wouldn’t try to leave but he wasn’t about to let her continue plucking gear from him. Looking down at the efforts momentarily, “It will not take long for the Imperial Queen to know that things have changed. She’ll send someone else and the next person will be properly someone that is suited for nightmares. Is many people’s nightmares.” He surely knew Gusteau was going to show at some point.
They’d have to be prepared. “I’m not going to kill you. If I wanted too… it would have already been done.” Still his brows furrowed a moment with deeper thought, “I do not know if the trials are the answers. What is the next thing you have to collect,” Hoping that maybe if he pointed it out, she might surmise she was collecting things that were on par for black magic ingredients.
“Theon, you can’t sleep comfortably in armor,” she replied with some exasperation. Araminta refused to ignore the fact he’d looked as if he’d ran across the entire realm – and he likely had. It took days to weeks of travel for the average person and surely even for a fae it had to be exhausting to expend so much energy! And he’d done so for her. Araminta couldn’t go slay his mother, but at least she could be sure he got proper sleep!
Even now he was too concerned about her. Enough that it actually drew him to speaking, and so seriously at that! This was not a knight, witlessly subordinate to his liege. He could in fact speak to her on an equal level. …and somehow he had no idea he was capable of being an actual prince!
Respectfully, she stopped her fussing over him to take the other chair. Not about to loose this opportunity to share her actual thoughts about things beyond just the next hour.
“The next trial is collecting a very foul fish from a very foul pond in an abandoned village. I honestly don’t believe the trials are anything more than her careless show of power. A simple way to send people to die without bloodying her own hands. It’s more curious to me that she won’t even let me attempt them? There is nothing special about me and yet I irked her enough to send her own son to do the killing. Why bother?”
Araminta had some ideas of her own, but she was quite curious to see if Theon himself had started to wonder.
“I know. I won’t.” He expressed softly to her commentary that he couldn’t sleep well in that of the armour. If he was inclined too, he might have expressed he slept it plenty of times! However that just seemed to be fussing for the sake of fussing. Offering no aid to anything in the moment. Just that he would prefer her to stop treating him as if she were some maid meant to assist him with the removal. She had enough on her own head, he could manage himself.
Thankfully she didn’t continue –as he wasn’t sure what he would do if she tried. Likely nothing but still, the thought lingered- so he might instead open his mouth to tell her the truth of things and of course, to ask her about the trial next. Observing the dainty woman as she sat in the opposite chair. Allowing him the motions then to work at the remaining bits of leather armour. Listening acutely as she spoke of the next item on the list and gave her own opinion as well.
“You refused to marry into her grand family. That was insult enough.” Theon remarked easily enough, unbothered by the refusal. Harbouring no ill will or even a consideration of it. “Most people do not complete the trials. They die, or they give up.” A fact she likely knew, “Warriors of immeasurable strength and talent. All sorts of tried and ultimately failed.” Shifting body then to begin the removal of the chest piece, it came to rest alongside the chair. So he might jangle loose the chainmail next.
“So far, you’ve completed three. On to the fourth. And I, do not usually act the part of witness. Typically sent elsewhere to deal with those the Imperial Queen deems bothersome or beneath the use of their own lives.” Rattling the item to drape over top the leather chest armour, knife bright eyes lifted to her. “Bog hag hair. Harpy feathers. Glowing mushrooms. Foul fish,” He listed the four, “I am not sure if you are aware of dark magic but these items could be used as ingredients for that. Or, they are ingredients that are meant to draft something particularly fetid in combat to a powerful mage or witch.”
With the tunic exposed, he leaned back into the chair. Feeling the coolness of the air now more than ever. “It is a guessimation. But you are correct. There is little about you that suggest she should be uncertain or this bothered by you. Yet… you’ve successfully dug under her skin. And she wishes your death. Either way, it would seem that there is a cinching noose about your throat and a limited time to successfully learn what the issue is.”
“Ingredients she never receives because most do die,” Araminta pointed out. She could believe the items would be used in some bit of dark magic, but if the queen never received them, then it was all just a wild goose chase in the end. Araminta also had the benefit of knowing what each trial was all through the eleventh. With instructions to meet the Queen when she was ready for the twelfth trial. They felt very much designed to give a sense of ease and false hope to any ambitious warrior.
At least she had the relief of watching him take off all that armor. It didn’t make him look softer or weak in the slightest. Not when he had the bright look to those silvery eyes, something sharp and clever and full of thought. Truly handsome when he was in full confidence in himself instead of that quiet, subdued ghost.
Araminta gestured towards the stone fireplace, softly suggesting some added warmth for their conversation. She still hadn’t figured out how to properly light a fire herself.
“She is angry because I said No to her face, in front of her council of twelve kingdoms.” she suggested. “I suspect no one has told her no for a very long time. If I don’t die in these trials and fade away from memory quickly, I imagine others might start to wonder if they can say no as well.”
That was the crux of it, in Araminta’s opinion. She’d seen the faces of the ambassadors and royals of the twelve kingdoms, when the Imperial Queen made her offers, fully expecting Araminta in her desperation to chose the simple easy option. Only for her to deny the queen and choose the suicidal route. At the time Araminta was only thinking she’d not want to end up trapped there like the rest of them, signing away her kingdom to someone that was clearly as dangerous as a hoard of demons.
Now she was realizing she may have accidentally started something so much bigger than herself and the single kingdom she wanted to save.
A head tip agreed with her statement that the ingredients were never received due to the fact that even the hardiest of souls often succumb to the trials. They were dangerous from the start of course but each one amped up that level of failure. Still, if he thought about it, the trials were meant to be almost impossible. Yet his thought lingered on the fae themselves.
When he told his mother about the king, it seemed to annoy her. And the white wolf declared no love for the queen in reply. It truly had him thinking, till she seemed to motion just enough that he understood she wanted that of a flame. Urging himself out of thoughts and to rise sluggishly. Gathering up to the fireplace where he could start to sort the ashes and last bits of charred wood into something suitable to light another flame. Leaving her to be the one that spoke up about how she believed the queen was angry because she had been told no.
He couldn’t argue with that. It was doubtful of course that the queen had felt offense because it was a turn down to enter her family, but because someone stood there and told her directly before her audience that she’d sooner die than do anything less.
He understood that.
Moving the bits of wood around and reaching into the basket that held the other bits of timber prepared to be fed to a living fire, the stone and flint were picked up. Striking across another till sparks caught on the roughage bed made for them. Eating the offering quickly that he moved a log to take its place and put the new screen before the mouth of the pit to simply look at it. “Would it not be better for you then to rally those who would say no?” Theon asked then softly, “Rather than continue the trial into something that could very well be a trap?”
He moved so stiffly and sluggish, she almost wished she hadn’t asked him to set the fire at all. He’d need the comfort though for a good night’s sleep, and she could keep it going well from here.
While he stoked the fire, Araminta took to unhooking her own cloak, gently placing the faerie brooch on the table and draping the cloak itself on her chair. Her boots came off next to slide out of the way under the table. That alone felt like a relief to her senses, though what she really dreamed of more than anything was a long hot bubble bath. Soaking in a tub of water with sweet floral scents and washing away weeks worth of grime. To put some something lovely instead of itchy traveling clothes and finally feel like person again, instead of a feral wilding.
His question drew her from that daydream back to the present, where she cast a thoughtful frown.
“If I were to go to a village, or even to one of the twelve kingdoms and say ‘Lets defy the Queen.’ they’d think me absolutely mad. No one is going to rally behind some delusional princess of nothing against a woman who is so formidable.”
Sliding from her chair, Araminta moved to fetch the nice bedroom and spread it out across the floor near the fireplace. That fluffy pillow she squished and plumped with her hands until it was suitably fluffed and smelling faintly of fresh chamomile, then added at one side.
With a gesture of her hands and a point of two fingers, she signaled this was where he was meant to sleep.
“…yet, they might rally behind you.” she tested the suggestion, certain his immediate response was going to be rejection, but knowing the truth in it anyway. “I’ve only gotten this far because of you, Theon. Imagine all the realms realizing the Queen’s own blood has had enough and won’t be controlled by her any longer.”
There was truth to that. No one would believe someone standing on their own soapbox declaring they were to rebel against the queen, without wondering how the said person wasn’t tossed into a loony bin already. Pulled away for expressive interest that often ended with the person dead and their brain being prodded separately from their corpse. Still, he didn’t think she would have terrible trouble either.
She proved rather effectively that she was not at all what one would think of a princess.
Watching the ember’s flick and lick at their morsel of wood, he had every intention of sliding his back to the nearest wall. To slumber there, as it was hardly a bother to him at this point. Sure he lived in the wilds much more than he had ever in any room that was in the castle. Just it seemed if he was about to do that, Araminta was already a step of ahead of him. Slapping down a pillow with an obvious hard to miss point that she expected him to do the same as her. To lay on the bedroll. Earning an odd stare from him. She might as well have asked him to leap through rings of fire, because he wasn’t gathering why she’d put such effort in when he was perfectly fine.
Then came the next surprise. One that made his stomach clench and head hurt.
To be told that people would rally about him. Him?
The man that had helped his mother conquer the twelve kingdoms when they were being refusant? The one that slaughtered others because he was told too without a second thought? That seemed so farfetched that she would have better luck asking him to fly to the moon. “Is that the impossible feat then? For it sounds exactly as such.” He eyed her then against that emotionless hold, “Would you have believed me if I had come to your kingdom and beseeched help against the Imperial Queen, knowing who I am and such.” Theon stared, “Honestly.”
The man stared at her as if she was expecting him to sleep on a bed of live snakes! Araminta might have burst into a fit of laughter at such a look, but this current tone of conversation was too serious for her to find his unintentional funny responses so amusing.
Instead, she knelt down on her knees so she wasn’t towering over him like some overbearing monarch here to lecture him about duty. This wasn’t meant to be anything more than a simple conversation between two people whose problems were presently coinciding.
“Honestly?” she asked, examining that impassive face of his. “I would’ve been amazed and helped in a heartbeat. Do you know how incredible it is for someone to turn away from what they’ve always known and ask for help? To realize that the way of things is currently wrong and need to be changed? And that is if I hadn’t known what I know now!”
Araminta reached out, pressing the back of her hand against his chest over his heart.
“You have a heart in there, Theon. Something warm and sweet and beautiful, and you’ve shown it to me through simple kindnesses. What she’s made you do isn’t who you are. And oh she’s tried to mold you into something nasty, yet here you are. Someone amazing instead. I bet that frightens her more than anything.”
That struck his head strangely. Tilting once more as she expressed that had he approached her kingdom in aid, in hope, that she would have extended that hand out. Something about that was so unusual, so unfathomable that his mouth was kept hushed. Pressed neatly into a line making the scarred portion align correctly.
There was something inheritably good about her and he couldn’t figure out what it was. Just that it was bright, new and a bit terrifying. Add on the means that she was so close that when her hand pushed onto his chest, he felt a need to avoid eye contact. Physicality was such an unusual behaviour. Especially when it seemed this woman was just proving time and time again that she was full of extraordinary wonder. “How are you so certain?” He asked with that nugget of interest sparking, glancing at hand then sidelong to her. “She’s been in power for so long. Controlled people with means that I am sure neither you or I could comprehend.” There was no delusion that he didn’t know everything there was to his mother.
He’d be foolish to say he knew her at all!
Eventually Theon relented. Raising grasp up to twine about her wrist to withdraw her touch from him. Considering her smaller hand a moment before releasing. “I believe it would be in the best interest to see what the white wolf needed from you, before you herald into the trials once more.”
“I’m certain because she’s sent you back to me to prove that she still has power over you and I can clearly see that she doesn’t, else we couldn’t be speaking now, would we?”
That in itself was all the proof Araminta needed. Unfortunately, it would soon come to the Queen’s awareness too that her assassin son was no longer wound tight within her grip. Theon warned that it was likely others were going to come finish the job he hadn’t, and that was a very frightening prospect. What would she do? She had no idea! Araminta was no warrior princess and while she knew she could be clever when in the middle of a high stakes situation with beasties, she didn’t know how she was going to fare against those that were trained kill.
But that was a problem she’d have to deal with once it came to it. Araminta could only solve the problems of right now.
“She likely only wanted a bedtime melody,” she thought, out loud. Shifting to get up once again and moving over to the wicker basket full of blankets she so recently acquired. Warm cozy quilted things. One she tossed over his head, suspecting he’d not appreciate her attempting to tuck him in like he was a small child. Then wrapping one around herself and stepping back over to a chair to take a seat.
Apparently intending to sit there like a gargoyle keeping watch for the night.
“I need to go fetch my bag before anything else. If she truly wants me, she’ll come find me, I’m sure. Did she really not tell you what she needed?”
That… well that was true. So he would give her that tidbit of knowledge and wisdom to think that there was some loosening of control being had. But that also meant it wouldn’t take long for the queen to figure it out and of course allow others to come in seeking. Just not for one head, but two. His mother was older after all and he doubted she was even able to bare children any further if she wanted too, so he suspected that she might try to evil villainess tactic of wanting to live forever. If she hadn’t already.
The blanket on his head was enough to disturb darker thoughts. Pulling it down and watching as Araminta perched on a chair. His own attention deviating noticeably to the bedroom she had pulled out and wondered what the hell the use was if she wasn’t going to use it properly. “Fae do not do things in such manners. If the white wolf came out that far, there was a bigger reason.” He pointed out gingerly before tucking the blanket over his lap. Gaze moving to watch the fire with a low hum that he agreed gathering her bag back was a good idea.
For rings to graze to the corner to eye her once more. Lingering a long moment. “Just for you to be dead. The imperial queen doesn’t open her schemes to just anyone. Surely not I. We are not family as one would suspect. Merely tool and user. Whatever she wants done, she keeps to herself. I’ve never questioned her before and I doubt it would go well if I started now.”
“Well, I think it’s going swimmingly now,” she gave a gentle tease and a brief soft smile. “She’s accidentally sent me a friend.”
Araminta bet the queen would be rolling on the floor with rage to hear her say such things. If she weren’t afraid to test her luck, Araminta would delightedly go toe to toe with the Imperial Queen with words alone. In a physical fight… well. An elder woman with magic would lay Araminta out on the floor in no time. With words, though… Araminta was a practiced royal, after all. There was an art to devastating phrases and how to apply them. Just because she was kind didn’t mean she couldn’t bite.
In the meantime, Araminta pulled her feet up onto the chair, having full body and head disappear under her quilt until she was nothing but a blanketed ball with a face.
“Lay down and sleep, Theon. It’s my turn to keep watch.”
She was liable to make his head spin right off with the casual suggestion of friend. Then growing into a sort of morose concern that she might label him as such when in actuality, he had been probably one of the worst people to even give such an honourary title too. Alas or perhaps a boon for them both was he didn’t seek to make a mountain out of that molehill.
Instead he watched her become some new entity of blankets. Offering no more than a pretty face to be its center, while telling him to sleep.
He could have fought her on that. Pointing out that he doubted she had gotten enough rest either in her days spent with thugs, but that seemed like an invite for them to go back and forth. It wasn’t enthralling enough to even entertain. Just that he would refuse to get comfy as that just felt too out of the norm for him. Even sleeping at all with company about was already pushing that level of familiarity. So while her intention may have been to get him to plop down on the bedroll, he butted up against the wall. Close to the fire but not enough to accidentally toss the screen to roll into it.
Bundling the blanket over lap and crossed arms.
Tipping head back to leave it to rest to wall with the sound of crackling being the ambience for that necessary drift to rest.
“Stubborn,” she whispered, deliberately loud enough for him to hear. Completely amused that he still refused to accept such gentle comforts, while also finding that it made her heart twinge with sadness for it too. That his life had been so devoid of such things, that even something as simple as a not sleeping on a stone cold floor was out of his understanding.
If she could have, Araminta would’ve waited until he fell asleep and then dragged him to the bedroll. Knowing that was impossible, she watched him carefully, at least intending to add a few extra blankets on top of him once he’d drifted off.
Truth be told and difficult to admit to herself, part of her watching was simple fear that if she fell asleep, when she woke he wouldn’t be there. Araminta wanted very much for him to realize he could actually choose to leave his life and have something else… but she was also so scared that’d include realizing that sticking around with a doomed princess was truly the most foolish of things. What she had to offer was just a new kind of danger and endless trouble. Who would willingly choose that?
She’d gotten too attached and now she actually had someone to lose.
With her own determined stubbornness Araminta watched, and guarded, and soon fell asleep regardless in her round quilted bundle on the chair.