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Spoils of War (DareToDream and Nightingale)

DareToDream

DareToDream

Pulsar
Joined
Dec 26, 2009
Location
East Coast of U.S.
The sound of activity outside drew him to the window and his gaze swept across the stone courtyard with a slow measured confidence. There was chaos out there, but it was controlled and restrained as everyone went through the motions that he had ordered. Midsummer Festival was almost upon them and it was time to travel if they hoped to make it to Aurelian in time. The capital city had been declared neutral ground for the festival by the High King and it was the only way it could work. The kingdom of Narvashal had been at war with its neighbor for years now, each fighting to expand their borders and claim the rich resources and tax base that existed on the others land. War was common place in their world as kingdoms skirmished all the time without interference from the High King. As far as he was concerned, so long as the kingdom’s paid their taxes and didn’t wage war against those he considered his, they were free to do what they wanted. The Midsummer Festival trumped all of that though as it was the celebration of the God and Goddess, that most sacred of events that all kingdoms had to celebrate. To not do so would bring the wrath of the High King and his armies down on them, a prospect no one wanted.

So, at the request of the High King, a truce had been declared by the warring neighbors and negotiations had been completed about when each would arrive in Aurelian and how many soldiers they could bring with them to ensure the protection of their High Lords. Those preparations were under way now, under his watchful eye. It would soon be time for him to go outside and make sure everything was ready but first he had to visit his Lord. Turning towards the door, he saw the attendant as he entered and gave him a nod. “Take me to him” he said, his voice gruff. The man nodded and turned, leading the way through the dank, damp hallways of the castle. Marcus Steele, High Knight to the High Lord followed him, his feet echoing on the stone with each step. They moved through the castle quickly, the knight nodding to different people he met, all going about their duties in preparation for the departure of their Lord. At one point, he paused and issued orders to some soldiers, wanting the complement of archers beefed up and well stocked with shafts. Finally, they reached the throne room and Marcus entered, stopping when he reached the dais and dropping to one knee with his head bowed.

“Rise, Marcus, and face me.” The words were quietly spoken but resounded with authority and power and Marcus did as he was bid, standing and focusing his gaze on the High Lord, awaiting his orders. The man studied him for a moment and then nodded. “Are we ready to depart, Marcus?” The High Knight gave a curt nod in return.

“I believe so, my lord. I just need to do a final inspection and then we can be under way. We have a full detachment of knights, archers, and cavalry going with us as planned along with all the support personnel needed. There will be a second detachment trailing behind us that stays just outside of the city should they be needed in an emergency.” He knew that this latter group was not part of the negotiated limits but he would not put his Lord in danger but being under prepared. As long as they stayed outside of the city, in disguise, they would be fine.

“Very good, Marcus. Go do the final inspection so we can be underway. I will be down shortly.” Marcus nodded and gave a salute, then turned and left the room, quickly heading out of the castle and into the courtyard. The next thirty minutes were spent inspecting the troops, ensuring that all weaponry was packed, and making sure that all the supplies were stored away and ready. The safety of the High Lord was his responsibility and he would not fail him.

When he was finally satisfied that all was ready, Marcus gave a signal and the High Lord emerged from the castle, accompanied by the best bodyguards the kingdom had available. Knights all around dropped to their knees in honor, a gesture that was met with a curt head nod from the Lord, and then he slipped out of sight, climbing into the carriage that awaited him. Marcus rode up on his horse and nodded to the High Lord. “We are ready sir and will move on your command.” The High Lord gave it and Marcus turned and rode to the head of the caravan, shouting orders as he went. Within moments, they began to move, quickly leaving the courtyard and beginning the trek to Aurelian.
 
The people bustled about the capital city. Setting up stands, and arenas. Preparing for the festival that was soon to make way. The noise drifted into the room, and she listened, as she stood, shoulder resting against the large window pane. The suns rays giving the young girl a soft glow as the Lord entered ,watching her quietly. "Illayna.. " That deep voice bellowed into the room, and where one would normally flinch to the stern tone, Illayna merely smiled and pulled herself away from the window. "Yes father?" The words softly spoken, and graced by that sweet smile, did more than soften the heart of the elder man whom had entered. Lord Ulric Terryn of Greymere. A King, who was selfless and loving when it came to Illayna..but when it came to those who opposed him, Ulric was vicious, unjust and feral.

Illayna had always tried to change his ways.. and often times she could sway him from over reacting to something, but others.. her efforts were futile. "Illayna.. I want you to enjoy this festival, the time of peace. It's what you looked forward to, was it not?" Illaynas smile broadened. "Father, don't worry. I will enjoy myself. You need to see to your planning. " Illayna moved to skirt around him, but he placed a heavy hand upon her shoulder. "Please, be mindful Illayna.. some of these people are our enemies.. and they will only seek to do you harm." Illayna looked back and gently cupped his cheek. "I will be fine father."

Illayna was young, curious and adventerous. Pure to the centre of her soul. As she slipped out of the room she exited into the busy streets. People from all the surrounding kingdoms had been arriving throughout the day. She'd watched them as they'd arrived.. caravans of small armed guards and haughty nobles. Illayna greeted those that would have her words, and avoided those that seemed to keep her in wrong company. The young woman stood a height of about five feet six inches. Long honey curls caressed down the length of her back and cascaded over her shoulders. Eyes a brilliant ever green, and skin a golden peach.

She'd been the apple of her fathers eye growing up, the image of her mother, and the image of the goddess. Perhaps that was why she had been chosen, her kindness and eagerness to work with others had brought her to this place in life, had brought the Temple to the decision of making her what she was. She sighed softly, and leaned back against a support post to her fathers camp. Hands idly toying with the sash around her waist. She wondered when the one her father was at war with would arrive. She wanted to glimpse the mans face, to know the one they called enemy.. and perhaps.. try her words at persuading him to join them.. not fight them.

Ever the peace keeper. She's been so worried over her father.. and those that protected him. Since the time of war, things had been uneasy, and she'd been allowed less and less freedom. Always, surrounded by guard.. never allowed her time alone. Even now, she could see the man assigned to guard duty making his way towards her. The silver haired gentlemen had become her friend over these sour months. He did more talking and advising then he did protecting. No one had dared yet, to make an attempt on her life. Their war was with Ulric, not she.
 
With the bugling of horns and cheers from the castle denizens, the caravan slipped through the castle gates and entered the Narvarshal capital city of Rhannion. It was a prosperous city and well defended by the Knights of Narvashal, led by Marcus himself, and the citizenry were provided for with great care. Morale in the city, as well as the kingdom, was high and it was all because of High Lord Aquitaine, a man that ruled with a fair and strong heart as well as an iron fist. He had been the High Lord of Narvarshal for ten years, following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, and the kingdom had prospered more under his reign than any other. Commerce was strong, hunger was non-existent, and love existed everywhere, including within the castle walls. Marcus had met the Lord’s consort on many occasions and she was a lovely woman who complimented him well. Unfortunately, his High Knight had never experienced that state himself but he was not worried; his duty lie elsewhere.

Marcus had been the High Knight, in service to the Lord and the kingdom for the last two years, having taken over the position when the previous High Knight was killed in battle. Since his promotion, he had led the troops with strength and valor, having personally claimed a number of enemy lives on the battlefield. It was not a feat he was particularly proud of but it was a necessity during a time of war and Narvashal had been at war with Greymere since he had been a child and would probably be at war for many years after his death. Both Lords wanted what the other had – more land, more resources, and more people – and so the troops fought constantly. The border between the two countries was an ever moving line, adjusting one way than other depending on the outcome of this battle or that. Enough blood had been shed by both kingdoms to fill all the rivers in their lands and then some. Marcus had no time for love because he was fighting all the time and he fought because it was his duty. It was not, however, his wish. Peace was what he wanted, peace for both kingdoms, though he knew no way to bring it about, at least not by himself.

There were others in the kingdom who felt the same way, men in positions of power, and Marcus knew who they were. None had made a move in that direction though because it meant treason against the High Lord and that was not acceptable. So he fought, and the men he commanded fought, and one day he would die for his kingdom. It was not a prospect he liked but he wasn’t afraid of it either. It was with those thoughts on his mind that Marcus led the troops and the High Lord towards the capital city of Aurelian and the Midsummer Festival. They stopped that night in a farmer’s field, breaking camp, and then headed out again in the morning. It took ten more days of hard travel before they reached the edge of the Aurelian. The minute Marcus received word from his scouts he put his men in defense formations and sent the backup detachment into hiding.

Riding at the head of the High Lord’s detachment, the High Knight led the way into Aurelian, watching citizens move out of their path as they traveled down the city streets after receiving clearance to enter from the city’s troops. They had been assigned to the north side of the city, where they would make camp for the duration of the Festival and as such, had to travel from one end to the other. It would take them past the camp of Greymere though so he passed word to the troops that they were to be on their best behavior. Skirmishes within the city limits would not be allowed or tolerated. He slowed the troops down and pulled them in tight, still leading from the front, his eyes trained on the enemy camp as he came abreast of it. Mentally counting troop numbers as he saw them, as well as marking armament and horses, he almost missed her. When his gaze swept over the front of the camp again, they came to light on a young woman who leaning up against a support beam, her hands at her waist. She stood only a few inches shorter than Marcus from the looks of it, with long honey-colored hair that slid down her back. Her beauty stunned him and momentarily left him breathless as he walked and then his mind reminded him that she was the enemy and the image and thoughts faded from his mind. Whoever she was, she was not someone he could consort with, not if she was in the Greymere camp. Forcing his mind back to the path ahead, Marcus led the troops on, soon reaching their camp.
 
Illayna could hear the thunder.. the clash of hooves against the sodden earth. Closing her eyes she basked in that sound for a moment, listening as it grew nearer, then finally it was upon them, and as she opened those brilliant hues she was faced with the caravan of the High King.. the flag of Narvashal reflected in her gaze. Where the face of the man beside her hardened, and the hatred raged in his heart, her own features soften, and hope enlightened her. She was drawn, her eyes moving from the crest to meet the eyes that held her so, if for but a moment. The High Knight. She'd heard of him, of course she had.. but never had she imagined such a handsome man would ride in that honor. Illayna let her gaze follow him, even as he looked away and righted himself. The corners of full lips pulled into a coy little smile as she ducked her head and looked away.

Gracefully avoiding any eyes that may have spotted her staring. She even managed to avoid the overbearing gaze of Sir Richard. The man caught Illayna just above her elbow. She paused, and turned to look at him. "Avoid that man, My Lady Illayna, and all who travel with him. This may be a time of peace.. but that crest is not to be trusted. " Illayna, not one to often express a sour or irritated mood, lightly relieved her arm of the mans grasp. Her small, delicate hand eveloping his worn, rouch knuckles. "Fret not Richard. My father is in good trust. I am here to enjoy the festivities of the mother Goddes.. not here to trifle words with men." Richards cold gaze lingered upon the young girl, but he could not help but attempt to stifle a small smile. He believed her to be well off, much like her mother. Timid, soft natured, and sweet. However, Illayna did inherit a bit of her father.. she was courageous, often times too forward, and strong willed. "You will make a fine Queen one day, Lady Illayna.. I'd hate to see a man of Narvashal bring you down." Illayna laughed, the sound like silver bells. "Fret not Richard." She chimed once more before continuing about her way.

Richard stayed within close range, as Illayna lingered about the camp. After all parties had arriveed the festivities would begin. She could not wait to experience a time of peace. To get to know the people of the neighboring kingdoms, despite Richards warning words. All people were not bad.. Illayna knew this. They were made out to be unjust, simply because they viewed things differently. Did they all not want the same thing? She wished, so deeply to find a middle ground. She feared that by time she could make a true difference.. it would be too late. She'd either fall to the High King, slain with her family name.. or she'd have lost all that was worth fighting for. This war would take everything, consume them if they were not careful. It had consumed those of the families before them.. and carried into the legacy of their names.. that was all her history knew, was the nams of the rivals.. and the war in which they fought so viciously.

As the day progressed, Illayna finally caved to the questions she had. "So tell me Richard.. that man, leading the Caravan.. was the High Knight was he not? What can you tell me?" Richard seemed caught off guard by this question, and eyed Illayna with caution. "You'd best forget those girly thoughts Princess.. he's not a man you should trade words with." Illayna smiled brightly. "I'm not asking to trade words, Richard..I'm asking -you- to tell me about him. A girl should know the enemies of her father.. shouldn't she?" The words came coy, teased with a hint of sarcasm, and laced with laughter. Richard let out a disgruntled sigh, and heaved himself into a seat beside the girl layed out in the grass. They'd managed to wander a little beyond the grounds of Greymeres camp. "Best forget it. Just know he is High Knight for a reason.. " Illayna sighed deeply. "You're always so grumpy.. but you've always been that way, even when I was little. You used to amuse mother, I remember.. she'd always thought the faces you made were funny.."

"Grumpy? I'm old.. I'm allowed to be grumpy." He snuffed. She laughed. She would pass her day as lightly as she was now, in hopes to hold fast to her excitement for the festivities that would begin that night.
 
Marcus was the first to cross the threshold into the part of town that had been set aside for Narvashal and he quickly scanned the perimeter of their encampment, looking for anything of immediate concern. Their space had been well marked by the city’s troops, sporting the kingdom’s Crest of Arms at each corner of the encampment, and appeared to be safe enough at first glance. He stepped aside then, letting his troops file past, counting heads as they did. The men knew their jobs well and they spread out along the perimeter with ease, their wary gazes facing out into the town, fully prepared to take on any threat that might come from those quarters. He stayed where he was, his own gaze traveling everywhere, always leery, always suspicious. There were many kingdoms in the city now, all there for the Festival, and any one of them could be planning chaos on his camp.

Once the High Lord was safely in the camp, Marcus began giving out orders, watching as the camp began to unfold around him, soldiers and civilians moving at a brisk pace to get all of the tents set up and the rest of the encampment secured. Posts were brought out almost immediately and a picket fence was built along the sides of the perimeter, giving the camp a little extra security. It wouldn’t stop an all out assault but it would any attempt to breach the camp that much harder, giving his men precious time to react if necessary. Looking around at the buildings that surrounded them, he barked out a few more orders, sending archers to the roof tops, where they would rotate in shifts, providing coverage from the air. When he was finally satisfied that their camp was as secure as it could get with troops on full alert, he began to wander the grounds, making sure that all the necessities that went into running a camp were moving along smoothly too. The cook already had a meal cooking and the groomsmen were in the process of brushing down the cavalry’s horses. Nodding at each station he passed, he finally made his way to the High Lord’s tent, saluting the two guards standing in front of it before pushing through the flap. The High Lord was sitting in a chair, reading some correspondence, when Marcus showed up. He glanced up and nodded at the High Knight, motioning for him to take a seat. “Welcome, Marcus” he said as he looked up from the papers. “You made good time bringing us here and the men seem on high alert.” He set the papers down then and stood, stretching. “Was that the Greymere camp we passed on the way in?”

The question sounded innocent enough but Marcus knew better. Standing at attention, he gave a curt nod. “Yes, you’re Highness. We passed them within an hour of entering the city. They were on full alert and heavily armed. Well aware of our presence, as we were of theirs.” He paused then to glance around the tent for a moment, his eyes coming to rest on the High Lord’s sword, propped against a trunk still in its scabbard. The weapon had never been raised in battle, so far as Marcus knew, and for the first time in a while, he gave thought to the needless bloodshed that occurred at this man’s hands. Perhaps it was that thought that empowered him, giving him the strength to ask what he did next. Bringing his gaze back to the High Lord’s again, Marcus continued speaking. “The Festival will be a time of peace for both Kingdoms, your Highness. Perhaps it would be a good time to discuss a permanent truce?” The minute the words were out of his mouth, the High Lord’s gaze snapped onto him, his eyes narrowed in obvious anger. The air inside the tent began to stagnate, almost as if the High Lord controlled it, becoming malevolent and charged. Marcus held his ground, his gaze locking with the High Lord’s, prepared for whatever backlash came.

After a few moments, the High Lord spoke, his hand rising and pointing at Marcus. “Those could be considered words of treason, High Knight. Be careful what you speak while in my presence…..or even outside it.” With that, the High Lord turned his back on Marcus, making it clear that the soldier was dismissed. A sharp salute later, Marcus had exited the tent, meeting the eyes of the two guards who had no doubt overheard the conversation. Neither man dare say a word of it though, fear of both the High Knight and the High Lord obvious on their faces. Anger reverberated through his body as he left the tent, leaving his limbs twitching in anticipation; he did not understand why the High Lord would not consider peace. The war was tearing both kingdoms apart from the inside out, decimating their citizens and destroying families. Marcus’s own family had been killed in the fighting, his only sister raped by the enemy soldiers before having her throat slashed. He had seen enough death and destruction to last him a lifetime yet the High Lord refused to budge. War was the only option to that man and, not for the first time, Marcus wondered if it was personal. The very notion that there were spys within the Narvashal camp also surprised him. With a shake of his head, he pushed those thoughts from his mind and grabbed a horse from the stables and two cavalry guards, riding out of the camp at a gallop. They needed to scout the town, to learn the layout of the city, and then was as good a time as any. Two hours later, Marcus had the layout of the city mapped in his head and had stopped at the edge of a field to let the horses graze. Voices floated to him on the wind and he looked up, noticing a young woman and an older man in the distance. He let his gaze wander over them for a moment before they snapped back to the woman, his eyes widening. She was the beauty from the Greymere camp. Though he knew he should look away, he found that he couldn’t; the pull that he felt towards her was simply that strong and that surprised…and scared….him. Who was she and why was he fascinated with her? They were questions without answers unfortunately.
 
"Your mother was a very generous and kins woman.. beautiful and passionate.. no doubt you will make her proud. You're just like her." Illayna made a face. " Grump and emotional" She teased. Richard let out a disgruntled little noise and tossed a small abandoned seed at her. "Yes.. just like her." Illayna laughed, sitting up some, started to hear the distant whinnie and hoof stomp of horses. She looked up, and noticed then the man she'd just been asking about. She could not help but stare.. her gaze drawn upon him. Richard shifted, noticing her sudden silence and drifting gaze. He turned to look, and with the grace and ease of a young lad he brought himself to his feet and took a defensive stance. Illayna had been a step behind in reacting. Moving quickly to her feet she placed a gentle hand upon Richards forearm, and spoke softly against his ear. "Calm thyself Sir Richard.. we are at peace here within the capital city. No battle, no blood is worth dishonoring the God and Goddess. " The man growled deep in his throat, and relaxed.

"You've too kind a heart, Princess.. these men would only see to do you harm." His voice gruff, riddled with anger. "You do not know that Richard. These men do not know me.. they know only my father and his ways.. and the men that carry out his task. I am none of these things. Remember that." Richard looked away, and minded himself. Illayna smiled and made to approach the gentlemen a small ways away. Her attention first drawn to the horse. The gentle breeze placed ripples in the skirt of her dress, the pale blue material embroided with silver and ivory threads. The colors of Greymere. She let nimble fingers gentle slide along the gorgeous face of the beast. It's head lulled and nuzzled into her palm, nostrils flared as it breath in her scent.

"Sorry to have startled you gentlemen, I did not know others would be coming to this area. However, Let me welcome you to Aurelian, I am Illayna and that.." -She gestured to the elder male, stiff in his appreance and uncomfortable to say the least in the presence of his enemy.- "Is Sir Richard. " Illayna spoke softly, and as if she'd no worries nor fear of them. Though her words carried to Marcus, her attentions remained focused on the once grazing creature. Her hand trailing down along the graceful arch of it's neck as it huffed and lipped at the long, honey strands of her hair. "Such a beautiful creature.." She spoke softly, her words almost melodic as if she were entranced by the beast.

"Is it yours?" She asked, this time turning her attention to the man she knew to be the High Knight. Her eyes meeting his, holding his gaze perhaps for a moment too long before she felt a blush creep upon her cheeks and she looked away. She felt like a young girl again, crushing on the young pages she would meet in the corridors, or the tudors. She smiled softly, and gently kissed the forehead of the horse. Completely comfortable with the creature. Though perhaps her heavy focus was to keep her from staring at the man. She was drawn to him, in a way she was not familiar with.. but she was loving it.
 
It should have been easy to ignore her, to pull the horse from the edge of the field and ride off without another thought, and yet…it wasn’t. Something held the High Knight in place, something that reached up from the ground with invisible tendrils that wrapped around his horse and his body, holding them fast where they stood. The moment was surreal as the world around Marcus faded from view and he focused on one thing only – the woman from Greymere. He remembered her vividly, from the way she’d leaned against the support beam in camp to the track of her eyes as she watched him watching her. Of course, Marcus was a man as well as knight and he also remembered the shapeliness of her womanly figure, the smile that bewitched, and the beauty that shone. It was a deadly combination, in more ways then one; woman or not, she was a Greymere, his sworn enemy. To trust her was to court death, of this he had no doubt, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. When she looked up, a light breeze blew across his face but he held steady, his gaze meeting hers from across the way.

Her eyes mesmerized him and the way she looked at him…it was like she looked inside him, saw pieces of his soul that no one had ever seen. He had no defense for it, no way to shield himself from her sight, and it drew a shiver from his strong frame. The spell was broken when the woman’s companion rose to his feet, his movement fluid, steady and sure, drawing Marcus’s gaze. They were the movements of a trained soldier, one with experience and skill, and the High Knight was on instant alert, his gaze moving now, wondering if he and his soldiers had entered a trap. The search was rapid, his gaze touching on every object in sight, looking for additional troops, archers, anything that could be a threat but when he didn’t find any he turned back to the field. His men had caught his alertness though and moved their horses to the edge of the field also, looking where he looked. “Damnations!” spat the man on his left, his voice full of deadly venom. “Greymere pigs here? How dare they tread where we can see them!” The man’s hand dropped to his scabbard and gripped the hilt of his sword, slowly drawing it out.

The High Knight’s head snapped to the side and his eyes narrowed. “Stop!” he said, the words hissed in equal anger. The cavalryman looked at him, his eyes widening. “We will not draw arms in Aurelian unless drawn upon first. Pull your horse back now and give me space. Both of you” he added, glancing to his right also. Both soldiers gave curt nods, obeying the High Knight’s commands, and slowly withdrew to a safe distance, staying on alert for any danger. The minute they were gone, Marcus focused on the woman and the man that was with her. He was older than her, but still wearing the colors of the Greymere army; no doubt a bodyguard for the woman. That meant she was someone of importance in Greymere, perhaps a wife or daughter of a councilman or some other sort of nobility. As he watched her begin to walk towards him, her steps quickly taking her across the green grass, his mind whirled. Was he really going to allow this…this…enemy to approach him in the open like this? If word reached the High Lord, it would not be a pretty sight. Marcus considered this but discarded it immediately; he was tired of war and tired of bloodshed. It was time to engage the enemy in a war of words, not swords.

Energy thrummed through his body as the woman and her guard came to a stop in front of him, her hand reaching out to lightly stroke the muzzle of his horse. She began to talk immediately, her words flowing effortlessly on a voice that was melodic and light. He watched her, absorbing it all while keeping one eye on the soldier at the same time. Bold he might be, taking this first step against his High Lord’s wishes, but he was not stupid. She talked while she stroked, her hands lightly petting the horse, which ate the attention up, and Marcus did not interrupt her. When she finally came to her question, her gaze lifting and capturing his, he gave a curt nod. “Aye, milady” he said in a voice that was a little gruff at first though he didn’t know why. “She is named Ariana, after my sister who was raped and murdered in the war between our two kingdoms. Through my horse, I retain her memory.” He felt anger then, anger towards the war and anger towards her countrymen, but he tamped it down as it had no place here, in the first conversation between enemies in decades. Closing his eyes and ducking his head, he took a moment to compose himself before looking at her again. “My apologies, milady; I have seen too much bloodshed and lost too much in the war between our kingdoms and it colors my moods. Please forgive me.” Glancing at her guard, then back at her, he smiled. “I am Marcus of Narvashal, High Knight to the High Lord and those...” he gave a curt nod to the men behind him “…are soldiers filled with hatred and prejudice towards your country. They shall remain nameless for they are not worthy of your presence.”

The words were harsh but true and Marcus did not take them back. They were soldiers who had also seen bloodshed and violence but all they knew was hate and hate would not bring peace. The woman of Greymere, Lady Illayna by her own words, had taken a step that no one in either kingdom had ever done so far as he knew and he would not sully that effort with rancor. It was a simple step, one that might pave the way for more, but only if taken slowly. Inclining his head towards her, he smiled. “Midsummer Festival is shaping up to be a grand event this year and will last for many weeks” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as he drank in her beauty. “Perhaps we will see each other again before it is all over. For now, my men and I must head back to our camp for evening meal.” He gave a crisp salute to her guard and stood straight in his saddle. “Sir Richard and Lady Illayna, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Perhaps our countries will one day see peace and we can meet in the street without the protection of the Festival.” With a final smile and nod, he clicked his heels and slowly backed his horse away from them, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was a safe distance away, he spun the horse and signaled his men then galloped off, glancing back over his shoulder one last time. He wanted to capture that moment in his mind and memorize her face.
 
Illayna felt her heart sink when he answered her, and she visibly flinched. Richard nearly growled and reached a steady hand but Illayna shrugged him off. Her eyes staying fast to Marcus' own as she spoke her next words carefully. "What those men.. what they did.. was against protocol.. what they did was wrong.. and if I knew of whom they were.. I would have them face death. My..." She stopped, her words stolen from her. She dropped her hands from the horse, as if she was trying to physically stamp down her anger. "Princess please.. " Richard pleaded, sensing the tremble in the woman as she attempted to recollect herself. "I am sincerely sorry for your loss My Lord.. May she never know such torment again.." She whispered softly, just loud enough for him to hear her.

It was then he spoke words of department, and Illayna nodded, Gently reaching to show one last stroke of affection to the beautiful creature. " Carry him well Ariana .. and Tread safely Sir Marcus.. Even in Aurelian.. some are too bold." with those parting words she let Richard guide her back away from the horse and its rider, and lead her on the walk back towards came. "Princess.. you should not speak so freely with them. Are they not our enemy?" His words, she knew were posed as a question.. but meant so much more. "Forgive me, Richard.. but as much as I am my fathers daughter.. it does not mean I agree with his methods.. nor do I agree with those of the High King." Richard took in these words, and released a heavy sigh. "My Lady.. -" "Enough Richard, we're here to enjoy ourselves.. I will see to it that we do just that. It's not often I get to escape the boring walls of my chambers, nor the routine of the Temple." The man could only sigh heavily and agree. For one instant in her life.. she was free of fear, free of worry, or regret.. she was free.

How often could a princess, in times of war.. say that she was free? Not. "Oh, and Richard? Please refrain from telling my father.. I don't think I'd fancy being kept under lock and key inside camp.. it would be rather boring." She smiled as sweetly as he could, and the man let out a deep, hearty laugh. "Aye, as you wish Princess." As loyal as he was to her Father, Illayna knew even Richard grew tired of these trying times. As did all men. Illayna had known this war her entire life.. and she wished so greatly for something different.. and the more she thought upon it, the more her mind drifted to that man. Marcus.. the name fit him.. even the title. She remembered the draw of his eyes, the tone of his voice. She played it back in her memory.. she wanted to remember it, for as long as she could. For a brief moment in time, two kingdoms had shared words and not swords.

Though, now she was certain since her title had been spoken in his presence, she would not likely see that man again. At least not upon speaking terms. For the princess to be caught speaking with the High Knight of the High Kings order, she would certainly be taken for treason. This thought deeply disheartened her, that man had appeal.. there was something about him, she could feel it deeply. He was different, and oddly how she longed to speak with him without guard or soldier. She longed to meet him alone, to know him on their own terms and not the terms of war or forced peace. How cruel this life would be.
 
After a few moments of riding, Marcus slowed his horse to a walk, ensuring that his men did the same. Evening meal was at least an hour away but it had been the best excuse he could devise when the urge to retreat had taken hold of him. The High Knight never retreated, not in times of battle at least, but back there at the edge of the field he had made the strategic choice to withdraw. It was a different kind of battle that had started now, one of words and conversation, and it was not familiar territory for him at all. Though they had only exchanged pleasantries for a moment, the sheer act of facing his enemy and talking instead of fighting had left him shaken, his legs barely able to grip Ariana’s flank to hold him upright. His thoughts drifted back to that moment and a smile lit up his face. Lady Illayna had proven to be as lovely in person as she had from afar and her outrage at the atrocities of her kingdom’s men had been genuine. Marcus was a good reader of people and there was no doubt in his mind about that.

Her show of concern for his safety had also been heartwarming and though one could take her final words as a threat, he knew they had not been spoken with that intent in mind. In fact, his gut told him that the lass would never harm a soul unless her life depended on it, a trait that Marcus found highly appealing. Picturing her in his mind one more time, he felt his smile widen but then the image broke apart as he heard his men talking. They’d been riding slightly ahead of him, quiet for a time, but now they were talking back and forth rather more loudly than they should and he tuned in. “I can’t believe we just sat there while the Greymere Princess was in our grasp! We could have taken her guard out and kidnapped her for our Lord! Victory would surely be ours after he watched us murder her on the battlefield in front of his troops!” The other knight concurred with his fellow soldier’s assessments, adding that he thought perhaps their High Knight was going soft. The minute he heard their babble, anger flared within him and he kicked his horse into motion, driving a wedge between the men, scattering them. Spinning Ariana around, he blocked their path and drew his sword, facing them down.

“The next man that wonders if I’m going soft will find out the truth the hard way” he said, his words laced with venom as he glanced from one to the other. “We are Narvashal soldiers, not murderers, and in the middle of a temporary truce. Kidnapping the princess would violate that and bring war to this Festival. Have you no honor at all? To even think those thoughts is sacrilege.” His eyes blazed as he watched them, fury flowing on the winds that rode the street they stood on. Marcus was aware of the citizens and soldiers of other kingdoms that had begun to congregate around them but he ignored it all, simply waiting for his men to respond. After a few moments, one soldier finally bowed his head and muttered words of apology, followed by the second. With a curt nod, he slid his sword back into his scabbard and cantered his horse to the side. “Go now, both of you. Straight to camp and report to the cook for chow duty.” The men galloped off immediately, neither wanting to face their High Knight’s wrath anymore. Once they were gone, Marcus shook his head and then continued on.

He’d gone another block before the reality of the moment hit, rocking him in his saddle and bringing Ariana to a stop. Princess? Did his men say that Lady Illayna was the Greymere Princess, daughter to Lord Ulric Terryn, leader of Kingdom Greymere? How had they known? Thinking back to their conversation at the field, he recalled the words of her guard and berated himself for not catching it then. As he neared the Narvashal camp, Marcus’s thoughts were spinning out of control, ideas forming in his mind, ones that could get him trouble if discovered. What had been a simple conversation now had more potential and could, perhaps, be the first step towards something greater. Passing through the guard post, he received word that the High Lord wanted to see him and after dropping off his horse, he headed for his tent. Slipping through the flap, he entered and came to attention, snapping off a salute. “You wanted to see me, your highness?” he asked, keeping his gaze on the man before him. The High Lord stood from his chair and slowly moved towards him, stopping when he was mere inches away. They were almost nose to nose at that point but Marcus didn’t lower his gaze, meeting the man head on. He knew what this was about, had expected it, and he’d take whatever came his way. “Rumor has it you were conversing with Greymere pigs today, Marcus. And not just any pig but the Princess herself. What do you have to say to that?”

Marcus studied the High Lord for a moment, letting the silence drag out, a direct and purposeful insult to his leader. Finally, he gave a tiny nod. “Not rumor, milord. I spoke with the Princess and her guard today while scouting the city. My men saw it and have no doubt reported it.” He paused for a moment, swallowing once to wet his mouth then continued. “I did not seek her out but I did not turn away when she approached either. It will be hard to avoid Greymere soldiers and citizens during Festival, milord, and I did not want to insult them.” His words done, Marcus took one step back, widening the gap between them. The High Lord stared at him for a moment and then finally spoke. “You test me, Marcus, and I do not like it. We may be in a truce right now, but Greymere is still our enemy. I will not have my High Knight consorting with the Princess or anyone from that kingdom. Is that clear?” The words were coldly spoken and there was only one possible response. “Yes, milord.” That seemed to ease the High Lord’s anger somewhat and he turned, moving further away. “I have been summoned to the High King’s castle tonight for a feast, as have all the other Lord’s. I want my High Knight at my side. Go now and change. We leave in one hour.” Marcus saluted again and hurried from the tent, heading for his own, his thoughts already wondering if Lady Illayna would be attending with her father. A smile graced his face then, one of joy and wonder at the thought of seeing her again.
 
Illayna stood centre of attention as her father rampaged. Apparently word had gotten around that she'd been seen speaking with the High Knight of Narvashal. She flinched as her father yelled, his deep voice bellowing through the tent. He was angry, as he had every right to be on any other day.. but not today.. not in this time of festival. Illayna became frustrated, and for the first time as Richard could count, she expressed a sentiment of anger. "Father!" She snapped, the strain in her voice. "We are here on truce.. in a time of peace to enjoy the festival in honor of the God and Goddess, in this time of peace they are not Narvashal, they are simply men.. and we are not Greymere, we too are simply men." She pleaded. Trying to reason with him. Her father narrowed his eyes on her. "You are NOT to be wandering anywhere near these men, Illayna! They are dangerous and would seek to do you harm!" "But father! Richard was there, Richard is -always- there. He is to protect me, is he not?" Ulric sounded like a bear when he moved, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. "Richard may be strong, but even he can not fend them off if they come in numbers Illayna!" After a moment of her silence he spoke one last time. "Illayna I forbid you from talking to that man, regardless if he seemed kind."

Illayna stood shocked for a moment but she did not refuse his order, she did not deny him his right as her father or as her king. " Yes sir." She responded quietly, before dismissing herself from his presence. Ulric stood in the tent, Richard quietly stationed at the entrance, stepping aside to let the girl pass. The air was thick with tension, and a sudden air of sadness. Ulric knew Illayna had a strong spirit.. the girl was strongly willed, determined, but she could be careless at times, especially in these very bad times. Looking to Richard, as if the man would have some form of advice, Ulric felt helpless for all Richard could do was bow his head in response to the helpless King.

Illayna entered her tent quietly, the two guards stationed out front closing the gap between them as she entered. Keeping any others from following. She was to prepare herself for the ride to the Castle, for the feast held by the High King. She sat for a moment. In recollection of todays events. That man could have drawn his sword and slain her then.. but he hadn't.. and she wanted to know why. Part of her dearly hoped he'd be at this feast.. and she could pull him aside to speak with him. A young woman entered the tent, startling Illayna. "Forgive me m'lady. Your father sent me to help you." Illayna nodded softly and ran her fingers through her long honey curls. "Good.. you might be able to help me look presentable enough.. " She smiled sweetly, and spent the remainder of her time preparing for the evenings festivities. When the guard arrived to retrieve her, she was escorted to her father and from there, they traveled to the estate of the High King.
 
Normal camp sounds floated to his ears as he made his way across the camp but there were plenty of stares too. Marcus couldn’t miss those, not when almost every man he passed seemed to glance at him, some for only a quick moment and others for far longer than was smart. He considered challenging a few of the stares but refrained, knowing that doing so would just make the situation worse than it already was and that would benefit no one. Clearly his men had talked to more than just the High Lord about his antics today at the edge of the field and it had everyone perplexed. From some of the looks he received, it had also angered many of the men and he supposed he could understand that. All they had ever known was war with Greymere so the very idea of talking with them instead of killing them no doubt was a hard pill to swallow.

As he neared his tent, another figure stepped from the shadows to block his path, drawing Marcus up short. His eyes narrowed when he saw his second in command, Knight Cedric. “Cedric” he said, his voice gruff. “Stand aside, please. I have to get ready for the feast at the High King’s castle tonight.” Cedric stood his ground though, his hand hovering near his sword, almost in challenge. Marcus glanced down at it then up at Marcus, his eyes narrowing. “Is it true, Marcus” Cedric finally asked. “Did you talk to the Greymere Princess and leave her alive?” The words were laced with anger but Marcus understood why. Cedric had also lost his family in the war, along with his wife and children. They had been caught in a raid and slaughtered like simple cattle. It had left the man with a chip on his shoulder ever since.

Marcus nodded. “It’s true, Cedric. Lady Illayna is not the reason we lost our families and in time of truce, I could not shun her. Now step aside and let me pass or face me in the challenge circle.” Cedric’s eyes widened as he heard the words and he quickly stepped to the side, bowing his head. Marcus strode past him into the tent, taking a deep breath once he was out of sight. Would it be like this from now on, his every move questioned by his men and his lord? He closed his eyes, gathering strength. So be it then, he thought. If his actions could help push the two kingdoms towards peace, then he would do whatever it took, especially if Lady Illayna was involved. Glancing around, he set his sword and scabbard down on his cot and began to get ready. Thirty minutes later, he strode from his tent dressed in pants and a tunic, light chainmail on underneath it. A knife was strapped to his side and his sword was across his hip with one additional dagger strapped to his leg.

The High Lord met him at the stables and together they rode to the castle where they were met by the High King’s retainers. As they were escorted through the main hall, Marcus saw other Kingdom Lords and staff, nodding to those he knew. His eyes scanned left and right, hoping to get a glimpse of the Princess or her guard but he saw neither. Hope that she would be there sat in his chest like a lead weight but he let none of that show on his face, instead using his constant looks to convey wariness and protectiveness for his Lord. At one point, he even threw out his arm, preventing the man from running into another though in truth he was in no real danger. When they were brought into the Grand Ballroom, which swam with people, he did another scan, sighing when he didn’t see them. If she was coming, she had not yet arrived, and he could do nothing but bide his time.
 
It had seemed like the hour dragged, far beyond it's time, when at last their carriage arrived at the threshold of the Kingdom. Illayna let her father exit the carriage first, and she was soon to follow. The knight at the door took her hand and helped her step from it's interior and onto the walkway. With a passing glance over the courtyard she followed her father. Their guards stationed close at hand as they made their passage from carriage to the Main Hall. People littered corners, corridors, and balconies. Laughter and conversation lifted in high spirits as it danced around her. She followed in silence, a soft smile gracing her lips. She would not condone the appearance of a broken soul, she would not allow that victory to her father. As they entered into the ball room, they were greeted with a greater mass of people and Illayna was relieved to see the hand of her father dismiss her to mingle amongst the crowd. It was, however, not without a warning look. She knew who to avoid and at what costs. Illayna began to make her into the large room. The pristine gown she wore flowed freely, it's ivory material embroidered with a brilliant gold, and not a single kingdom crest nor color graced it's fine work.

Long honey tresses had been laced with ribbon and strands of pearls. Pinned at the back of her neck with a boldly blooming iris, and let from there to cascade in gorgeous waterfall curls. It had been expected of her to make an appearance, and one that would be remembered. A simple velvet, ivory choker graced her neck, and beneath it laid a delicate silver chain, whose pendant bore the emblem of the goddess and nestled comfortably at her buxom. As she made her way around the room, curious eyes wandering, she made appear she was simply admiring the decoration whilst she was truly searching for that newly familiar face. She found him, barely catching a glimpse of him as he turned away. His back to her. She felt her smile brighten, and become true. So he was here, was that the cause of her sudden heart racing? Fluttering around in it's cage like a bird trying to find freedom? What was this she had started? How much trouble would it bring her? She took a deep breath and let her eyes scan the crowd for her father. He was positioned in conversation with the High King and another woman. This was her chance.

Though as she moved to take it, she hesitated only a moment, to search for the prying eyes of the Narvashal King.. he was in the presence of Marcus and she felt her heart sink. If she had been so bold as not to think, she would surely have paid a heavy price. With a light step she moved herself around the gathering crowd and made her way to her father. With a curt nod, and graceful bow, she was introduced to the High King and his Wife. A woman of great beauty, a strong and powerful Queen. Illayna smiled politely, and listened to their conversation, not often adding unnecessary words. Her eyes glancing over the crowd.. Certainly at some point he would have to be free and Illayna could risk to her hearts content a moments breath of speaking with him again. He was alluring, and she wanted to know why. As she watched on, she noticed the fauning faces of the women he passed, the narrow glances, and the giggling girls. Quite alluring indeed.

What chance did she have to lure a High Knight away from his Kings side.. away from the swooning women who beckoned him? Who was she but the daughter of the enemy? A tool to be used for the trade? She wondered if he thought like others in his troops, that she was a liability to her father and that if they slaughtered her like cattle before his eyes, he would bend to their whim? Had they not done the same to her mother, and the man they called weak had bared his ground, squared his shoulders and grimaced through the pain? Illayna remembered that day, bright and bold in her memory. Her mother had left the Castle, for what Illayna had never been told.. and never would know.. but she remembered the bellowing scream of her father. The frantic collection of soldiers and the immediate departure. She remembered the maniacal laughter of a man who witnessed the murder of his wife, by the hands of a Narvashal soldier. A lesser man, who stood beneath his superiors and felt the greatest victory, in a battle yet won. She remembered her father returning, bathed in the blood shed, wild eyed and furious.

That was the day he had sworn Illayna to the Goddess, made her promise to never leave the castle, and stole away her freedom in the blink of an eye. She had barely ever seen the outside of the palace walls, and never tasted such control, or freedom as she did now and she was going to grasp it. Take it to her advantage. If she could sacrifice her freedom for a chance at peace by simply sharing words with a man of the enemies greater power.. than perhaps it would be worth it after all. Illayna did not resent her father, she did not regret her life, nor hate it. She was proud of who she was and the decisions he made.. she just felt that better ones could now be chosen. "Illayna..Illayna...! Illayna Juliet Terryn! Please will you pay attention?" With a startled flinch she turned her attentions to her father. " Yes sir?" "This is Nathaniel, Lord of the House Monte." Illayna lowered her head and bowed in respect. " Pleasure to meet you Nathaniel, please forgive my .. absence." The man gave a curt nod. He was very stiff, older than she, and rather boring looking. But as her father would have it, she was to at least share a dance with him, as others had begun to do within the centre of the ballroom.

Taking his hand, she let him lead her out. Dreading the moment already, she let her gaze wander once more to Marcus.
 
The noise in the ballroom was deafening and Marcus could barely hear himself think, much less concentrate on the dangers around him. It didn’t help that he felt positively nude without his weapons, which had been confiscated by the High King’s guards before entry to the ballroom was allowed. The High Knight of Narvashal would have been fine staying out in the hallway and retaining his weapons but he knew his duty was at his Lord’s side and he couldn’t perform that duty cowering in the hall like a frightened lamb. So he sucked it up, put on a brave face, and entered the maelstrom that awaited them, his senses instantly overwhelmed. The smells, the clamoring din, the chaos…it was worse than a battlefield, at least to Marcus, and he wanted out almost as quickly as he’d gone in. His eyes darted left and right, bouncing from person to person, object to object, ever wary and ever spooked, though the latter could not be seen in his posture or his face. To know fear was normal but to show it was not; that was the warrior credo that he lived by and he would uphold it with honor that night.

As the High Lord was hailed from across the room by another man, Marcus turned and scanned him, his gaze noting the man’s strong build and handsome face. He strode forward with sure and even steps, his gaze sweeping the room as he passed. The High Knight moved to his Lord’s side immediately, recognizing a fellow warrior when he saw it, his hand moving to his hip for the sword that was no longer there. The other man noticed it though and stopped a short distance away, dipping his head to Marcus in a tiny bow of respect, before turning to the High Lord. “High Lord Aquitaine, it is a pleasure to meet you once again. I trust your trip to Aurelian was uneventful?” The High Lord nodded in response and then turned to Marcus. “Marcus, I’d like to introduce you to Lord Jacobs of Merivale. He and I have been talking quite extensively of late about our kingdoms joining arms in an alliance that would be beneficial for both of us. Can’t you imagine it? With our combined might, Lord Ulric and Kingdom Greymere would fall in a bloody riot.” The words stunned Marcus into silence and he stared at the High Lord for a moment, his brain unable to wrap itself around what he had just heard. The silence stretched for longer than was proper, causing the High Lord to narrow his eyes in anger, but before he could say something Marcus nodded. “I….can imagine it, milord” he finally said, the words spoken softly.

Turning to Lord Jacobs, he gave a small bow, his eyes turning down as he did it. “It is an honor to meet a fellow soldier, milord” he said, letting the man know that he knew exactly what kind of man he was. As he stood tall again, Marcus studied the man, processing what he knew about his kingdom. Merivale rested against the southern borders of Narvashal but the two kingdoms had never been overly friendly, preferring to ignore each more times than not. Lord Jacobs land boasted a strong army and solid agricultural and mining industries so Marcus failed to see how an alliance would be beneficial to them. It was then that he saw weariness in the High Lord’s face, and the way his eyes darted to Lord Aquitaine and then away again, almost as if he was afraid of him. That was it then, the reason for this possible alliance; clearly Lord Jacobs was worried that Narvashal would turn on them next and thus hoped to avoid that by aligning with them in the war against Greymere. It was a cunning strategy if it were true because Lord Aquitaine’s kingdom had grown steadily stronger during his reign and he was known as an ambitious man. Fear settled into the High Knights bones as he considered it further; should an alliance be created, Greymere would not stand a chance. It would be slaughter in the worst degree and any chance of peace would be non-existent. Glancing at his Lord then across the room to where the High King stood, a shiver ran through him. For the first time, he wondered just how ambitious his Lord was and what he’d set his long term sights on.

A few more pleasantries were exchanged between the men before Marcus was dismissed and told to go mingle. As he moved away, he glanced back at the two Lords and saw them deep in discussion, no doubt working out more of the details. It bothered him that he had not been aware of these talks between the kingdoms, nor was he being included now; had the High Lord known about his secret longings for a while now and chosen to exclude him as a result? If that was the case, Marcus was in more danger than he had originally thought and that was a fact that did not sit well with him. He had lost much in the war, far more than any man should have to lose, and peace was what he wanted now, not more bloodshed. Perhaps the time had come to start building alliances of his own, ones that would help bring his dream. With that goal in mind, he slowly made his way around the room, talking to different nobles that he met and even a few of the ladies who approached him. Those made it clear what they wanted from him but instead of admiring their beauty, he found himself comparing them to Lady Illayna in his mind. Thinking of her gave him pause and he slowly scanned the room again.

It only took a few moments to find her among the crowd, so much did she stand out. She was talking with her father and another man and from the looks of it, she was bored stiff. A smile swept across his face as he studied her, once again lost to her beauty. Wearing a beautiful ivory dress that clung to her elegant curves, with her hair displaying the proper finery befitting a Princess, Illayna stood out like a shining star in his eyes. Just gazing upon her made his palms damp and his mouth dry, not to mention the way his heart was beating like a race horse out of control. He hadn’t felt that way about a woman in a long, long time but he ignored that. Lady Illayna had captured his attention that day and he wanted at least one more chance to talk to her. Glancing back across the room, he saw that his Lord had been joined by two others and would be occupied for quite some time so with purposeful ease, he moved through the crowd, stopping a short distance from her. He had positioned himself where she could see him, but her father could not, and thus he waited until she glanced his way. When she did, he smiled at her and then turned, weaving his way through the crowd, heading for a darkened alcove that he had seen. He didn’t know if she would follow or not, could only hope she’d caught the hint that his eyes had conveyed, but it was that hope that carried him into the dark, to begin a future that could very well bring about his death.
 
Nathaniel took her hand and lead her out to the dancefloor. His motions slow, and dragged, his shoulder stiff. She compared his stiff movements to the fluid way she had watched Marcus' walk.. how confident Marcus had been.. and how.. unconfident Nathaniel was. She felt a little disappointed, and ashamed that she was comparing this poor nobleman to a man of knight status. Was it wrong of her to be so attracted to a man who could hold his own? Fend for himself as well as others and likely.. well.. those thoughts were to be shooed from her mind, she was to withold from such things.. and actually, love was not an option she was allowed to venture into. The code of the goddess called for her purity.. and a life of the acolyte.. was not a life most men wanted to incorporate into their own. She needed to distract from such thoughts..and Nathaniel was her first try.

The man held poor conversation and seemed almost disappointed he was being asked to spend time with her. Illayna held back the urge to sigh exasperatedly and let her eyes begin to wander. That was when she saw him. Marcus was standing just within her sight, and she let her eyes meet his, he smiled, turned and walked away. Illayna felt the urge to follow, as if he had meant for her to. She looked back to Nathaniel and gave him a sweet, apologetic smile, dismissed herself and wandered off after the trail she knew Marcus had lead. Nimble digits gathered the delicate materials of her skirt and hoisted it up high enough for her to walk without really tripping over it. Easing her way through the throng of people she kept a few feet behind him. Barely catching where he was going, before she glanced back over her shoulder to ensure Nathaniel had not followed, not was he was watching. She did the same to ensure her father had not seen her depart in such a manner.

With a brilliant, victorious smile upon her lips, she disappeared past the last group of people and followed him into the darkened alcove. She finally had closed the distance and as she approached him, a soft yet cautious smile on her lips as she spoke softly. Quietly, although she knew he'd hear her. "Lord Marcus.." His name escaped her lips and she loved the taste of it, wanted to become familiar with its sound. She moved around to face him, a soft hand gently reaching to graze his arm as her brilliant green eyes studied his handsome face. "Please forgive me for earlier. I shoulder have stayed my distance, and if I angered your men you have my sincerest apologies.." Not the words she wanted truthfully to be speaking, but they were the words that were necessary. With her free hand she tucked a strand of curls from her face and studied him. He was strong, defined, and handsome and the way he had smiled at her back there had drawn her even more to him than she thought was possible.

Even so close, her heart beat in it's cage like a fluttering canary, singing... screaming however she was completely calm on the surface. "I.." she was lost for words, and allowed herself to step further into the shadows to avoid attracting members from either party. Certainly her father could keep himself entertained, and the other patrons could do the same.. they would not miss her.
 
His steps were swift and sure, carrying him through the crowd of nobility like a hot knife slicing a slab of butter. People parted for him without thought, some giving him a glance and others just moving out of instinct. Marcus noted this with a little smile, taking advantage of it to speed his steps. Twice, someone tried to talk to him, to stop him for a moment, but he ignored them, making it clear that he had a purpose and they were not part of it. The urge to look over his shoulder, to see if she was following, was strong and he felt that familiar itch, the one that told him danger was afoot. His mind knew this was crazy, this desire to see Illayna one more time; it would do nothing but get them both in trouble if they were caught. He ignored it though and kept walking, his mind made up, and soon he stepped through the alcove doors onto the quiet balcony. The dark of the night closed in around him, smothering him in its shadow as he moved to the railing and leaned up against it. He kept his back to the ballroom, listening to the sounds that filtered through the doors, hoping that she would show.

When he heard the footsteps, so light and soft, his body tensed automatically, screaming at him to turn around just in case this was a threat. He held fast though, fingers wrapped around the railing tight, and when his name came from her lips, his breath caught in his throat. Spoken so softly yet they carried on the breeze, causing his blood to flow fast and hot almost instantly. His mind called him traitor but his heart sung true, winning the battle for his soul in that moment. As her fingers grazed his arm, sending tingles sliding along his nerves, he slowly turned. The light from the ballroom cast a glow over her face and he used it to study her, his gaze slowly tracing the curves of her cheekbones and the edge of her full lips. When she started talking again, he met her eyes, losing himself in their brilliance for a moment as a smile bloomed on his face. As her words finally trailed off, he gave a tiny nod of his head then glanced to the alcove doors, checking to see that they had not been discovered. She seemed to sense his concern because she chose that moment to step deep into the darkness, away from the light, and simply stood watching him.

He had been told to avoid her, as well as her countrymen, given those instructions by his High Lord himself. Yet Marcus felt no desire to follow those orders at all, not now at least, not with Lady Illayna standing in front of him in all her beauty and grace. She was the Princess of Greymere but she was also a woman, one who had captured his attention earlier in the field and who commanded it now by her very presence. Inclining his head to her, he gave a brief smile and then spoke. “Not a Lord, milady” he said. “Simply a Knight, one that accepts your apology though it is not necessary.” His eyes tracked her hand as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear then he drew his focus back to her face. “My men have known only war and bloodshed between our two countries so I don’t fault their attitude but the step you took today spoke to me. That two enemies can stand and talk at the edge of a field” he glanced to his left then, out into the night, then back to her “and the darkness of a quiet balcony…well, it gives me hope.” He studied her for a moment longer, his eyes falling to the pendant that lay between her breasts. It was the Goddess’s emblem and it drew his brows into a frown, for it meant that the Lady Illayna was untouchable. That very thought seemed to dampen his spirits and cool his blood though he couldn’t say why; he had known in his heart that his fancy for her would not be fulfilled given their allegiances yet to have hope smashed so obviously still hurt.

Without thinking about it, he reached out and lifted the pendant in his fingers, running his thumb lightly over it. The emblem was sacred and right and with a sigh he let it fall back against her skin, his fingers lightly brushing her bosom as a result. It would have been a terrible offense to any woman, to be touched just so without their permission, but Marcus wasn’t even thinking about that. His mind was in utter turmoil, thoughts racing through it. Attraction for the Lady welled inside him, for her beauty and her courage, and he itched to pull her into his arms and show her that. Yet, the emblem called to his honor, to his spirit, entreating him to withdraw, back away, distance himself. Looking at her though, drowning in her smile, he saw hope. She held no fear of him, of who he fought for and what he did; she simply saw him as a man of honor, who was worth conversing with and knowing. It was a powerful message to send, one that rocked his soul, and for the first time in forever, he considered the role of traitor. He could tell her about the planned alliance with Merivale, could tell her all that she needed to know for her country to triumph in the war, but in the end he didn’t. All that would achieve was more bloodshed and death when what he hoped for was peace. No, his goal was clear to him then, to work towards ending the war and he knew that it started here. Pushing aside his personal feelings, Marcus looked at Illayna anew, rewarding her with a smile. “The night is young, milady” he murmured. “Perhaps a walk in the castle gardens would do us some good?” It was a risky maneuver but if they left separately and met in the gardens, they might pull it off. To have a chance to talk more and possibly strike a spark for the future, well, it was worth whatever risk Marcus took.
 
When Marcus spoke, his words drew her in, and she listened intently. He was brave, and though he was a man of honor.. bound to his king by his word, he had a greater honor she knew. However, as his hand reaached for the pendant at her breasts she felt her heart sink. Reminded once more that she could never truly have what it was she desperately longed for. She knew without a doubt in her soul, that everything she'd dreamt of.. everything she longed for, and the peace she so desperately wanted for her kingdom was standing right in front of her. So close, that when she reached her hand out, it gently grasped his own. Caressing the palm with a light touch she released a heavy sigh. Illayna was burdened by her own promise. " I will not lie to you Marcus.. and even as the mark of the Goddess lie close to my heart, I can not help but be drawn to you. So much so.. I risk my life, my loyalty to my kingdom by being here with you.. as I am certain you risk the same. I am drawn to you.. for matters of war.. and matters of the heart. " She would not hide it from him.. she was allowed to love, even if it could be justified as a crush.. an infatuation. The Goddess could not deny Illayna her feelings, but Illayna could deny herself the wants.

"I will meet you in the Garden." She whispered softly, her voice sweet, and soft as it always had been. Releasing his hand gently, she gave him a confident smile and made her way from the shadows of the Balcony. Slipping back into the ballroom in time with the steps of the music playing and boldly making her way back through the crowd towards the main entrance in hopes to make an unnoticed exit. She did not pause in her way as she looked over her shoulder to ensure her father was still completely occupied. The man was red in the face, and full of heartfelt laughter as he drank with a group of men and conversed on matters she knew she would best not know. Confident he would not come looking for her, she slipped past the guards at the door and made her way down the long corridor, making way to the south hall which would take her to the castle gardens.

She'd known this path a few times, when they'd come on business and she'd been dismissed to find her way about until it was time to leave. As she passed by the large arch windows she glanced out into the night. The silence welcoming, but frightening. Her nerves fluttering like butterflies in her stomach. Her parting words with Marcus had been a bit too much perhaps.. to just practically throw herself at his feet with emotions and claims every other woman had attempted to proclaim this night. As well as she could assume this was a trap.. to steer her away from the crowd, and kidnap her.. Illayna thought better of Marcus, she trusted him. Unknowing as to why she trusted him so deeply, she could not dare to think of him as she would his comrads. Marcus was, boldly different. Where Illayna was pure, and innocent.. in ways, unknowing of battle and bloodshed, Marcus was wise, practiced and strong.

He was a knight the God and Goddess would surely smile upon. As the end of the hall came near she slipped out the small opening and into the cool night air. The gentle breeze welcoming her as she disappeared from the natural line of sight, and entered into the depths of the beautifully crafted garden. With it's maze of holly, lilacs and azaelas. It's bushes and brambles, cloves of blooming iris, and vines of wild roses. It was truly a sight to behold, and being here set her nerves at ease. Shoulders rose with the inhale of a deep breath, lashes kissed her cheeks and she basked in the glorious night. Exhaling and relaxing. Waiting patiently for the arrival of the one whom had asked her here. She had given him no chance to stop her, to speak a word. They could speak more freely here, in only the presence of themselves and not hiding in the shadows.

Here was where she wished to chance a better future.. to openly speak with the man of a forbidden name.. the man of forbidden blood. The man.. she was certain her heart wanted to love.
 
As silence closed in around him again, Marcus stood at the balcony railing and stared out into the night, trying to process all that he had just heard. Illayna was gone now, headed for the Royal Garden at his request, never once questioning why or doubting his sincerity or his honor. Her faith in him was unexpected, almost curious, but he didn’t linger long on it. The High Knight was a man that followed his instincts, no matter what he was doing or where; it was part of what made him such a good soldier and leader of men. Right now, those instincts were telling him that Illayna was his hope for a better future, not an enemy that was setting him up. Of course, one might argue that he was biased in his thoughts, having heard her confession and knowing what was in his own heart. Life was about risks though, about taking steps for a brighter future, and his gut told him she was real.

Turning away from the night, he glanced down at his hand, curling it closed and then opening it again. The echo of her caress still flowed through his veins, his blood molten liquid to the touch, and it had his body stirring in ways it hadn’t stirred much. He closed his eyes and let her words play through his mind again, a smile forming on his lips as he did. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard such comments, of course, but it was the first time he felt something in return and that alone gave him pause to ponder it more. The Lady Illayna tugged at his heart and his soul in a way that no other woman had ever done and with each smile she granted him, each gaze from her brilliant green eyes, he felt that wall around his heart crack a little more. He was a leader in a brutal war, surrounded by bloodshed and death at every turn; there had never been time or need for love or romance in his life but now…now he wondered if that were no longer true.

The minute he had that thought though, the image of her emblem flashed into his mind, and he let out a tiny growl, the sound carrying in the stillness of the night. Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts from his mind, reminding himself that the God and Goddess worked in mysterious ways and he was in no position to judge. Marcus and Illayna had been brought together for a reason and only time would tell why that had been. Whistling lightly, the High Knight re-entered the ballroom and slowly made his way through the crowd, exchanging a pleasant comment here and there. He sidestepped two women that were trying to flag him down and scanned the room for his Lord. Seeing him occupied, Marcus made all haste for the exit, wanting to reach the Gardens as quickly as possible. As he neared the doors though, a man stepped from the crowd into his path, drawing him up short. “High Knight, might I have a word with you?” Marcus focused on the man, recognizing Lord Jacobs immediately, and cursed under his breath. Nodding briskly, he stepped to the side, drawing the man with him. “You seemed shocked and, dare I say, disappointed, to hear of our talks about an alliance” the Lord said, his gaze locked on Marcus’s own. “As the High Knight of Narvashal, in command of their troops, I would think you’d find that idea rather appealing.”

Marcus studied the man carefully with a measuring gaze, well aware of the trap that was laid before him. He might not have been a scholar or a Lord but he was no fool. Inclining his head out of respect he gathered his thoughts and gave the Lord a small smile. “Not shocked, milord, nor disappointed. I had simply not thought of that possibility myself so it caught me by surprise. An alliance between our kingdoms makes strategic sense and our combined might would bring the war to a swift end, saving many lives. I would endorse it.” Lord Jacobs beamed when he heard his words and nodded his head fervently. “I knew you were a man of cunning and intelligence” he said, watching Marcus carefully. “You are the kind of man who could lead an army onto greater things.” With those cryptic words, Lord Jacobs shot a look across the room towards the High King and then focused on Marcus again, giving him a small bow. “I shall let you go about your business now, kind sir” he said, stepping away and fading into the crowd.

The exchange left Marcus stunned and frightened, for the implications were quite clear; if the two kingdoms joined hands, they would not stop with Greymere. With a single glance, Lord Jacobs had hinted at something more, something greater, but did nothing to implicate himself. As he slipped through the doors and headed down the hallway though, Marcus had another thought. Perhaps the message had been less about conquest and more about warnings. Lord Jacobs was frightened of Lord Aquitaine, that much he had picked up; could the message have been a warning of what could happen if Lord Aquitaine remained in power and perhaps a silent entreaty for help? Marcus was not a man of politics and he did not know but he filed the information away for future use. He had known his quest for peace was important but it had always been a personal one; now, though, there was much more at stake and he knew, in his heart, he must not fail.

Weaving his way through the halls, he reached the door to the gardens and passed through into the land of fragrant smells. Flowers and bushes were in full bloom, their scents filling the air, teasing his nose with their delights. Taking a deep breath, he began to walk the path, his eyes searching for her. When he saw her in the distance, he paused, his heart suddenly pounding inside his chest. For the first time in a very long time, Marcus felt nervous about a woman, nervous because he knew how he felt. Shaking the feeling off, he moved up the path, but paused when a flash of brilliant blue caught his eye. Turning, he saw a bunch of tulips swaying in the breeze and an impish grin came over his face. Bending down, he snapped the blooms off at the bottom of their stems and then wrapped them together with a long blade of grass. He could only imagine what the royal gardener would think when he saw the cut stems the next day but he didn’t care. Approaching her from behind, Marcus stopped and leaned forward so that his chest barely touched her back. Moving an arm in front of her, he represented her with the homemade bouquet. “These are for trusting me, milady” he said, the words a soft whisper in her ear. “And for giving me the pleasure of a walk with you.”
 
In the midst of his conversation, King Ulric turned to see if he could see Illayna anywhere. With a small frown he could not glance a vision of his daughter, as he turned to subject his company to a question, a man stopped him. "She's fine m'lord. I saw her in conversation with a young gentlemen on the terrace. " Ulric smiled unsteadily and simply nodded. The gentlemen who had reassured him was someone new to his social querry, and was not likely trusting, however, Ulric was certain Illayna was safe. So long as that Narvashal man stayed far out of her sights. The ball room was full of lively people, surely she'd found someone more trust worthy, and not capable of running off with her life in the palm of his hands. Nervously, Ulric drank from his glass and proceeded to laugh and heartilly enjoy his conversations.

--
Illayna had been quietly admiring the night, unawares of the foot steps approaching from behind her. Not until he brushed against her back, and presented her with the most beautiful bundle of tulips she'd ever seen. Her eyes lit up, and she knew her smile could stretch no further. Gently taking the bundle into her hands she brought them to her nose and took a small sniff. "The royal gardner is going to have your head for this." She teased playfully. The flowers reminding her of the glowing iris tied into her hair and she subconsciously reached to assure it was still there. Turning in the process to face him. He was so kind, for a knight of Narvashal.. a High knight for that matter.. she had expected a man of more brutality, and less kindess towards her. Canting her head in the direction of the path she turned, lightly taking his hand and tugging him along.

"Come, lets walk." She insisted. That was what they'd come here for, was it not? Besides, it kept her from wanting to lean up and kiss him. Oh the things that tempted her mind when she was near him. Things that were more than words of peace. She could not fathom such things. Though she knew she could trust him, she could not trust herself. The goal here, was to perhaps spark a chance for peace in the future, not to throw herself at the feet of a man her father would quickly behead her for even touching. She sighed contentedly and basked in the cool night air. "So forgive me, Sir Marcus, for tempting you take such great risks to speak with me.. I know your King would not be happy if he knew you were here with me.." She laughed softly. "I'm certain the title "Traitor" can not be as tempting to you as it is for me." Illayna could embrace the title.

If she would be condemned a traitor for following her heart than so be it. She had no qualms with that. However, she could not fathom letting a man such as Marcus fall for someone like her.. she was going to get him in trouble at this rate. " Perhaps, it would be a good idea for you to go back in there.. " She stopped in her motions and turned to face him completely, her look concerned.. heartbroken. "I would feel terrible if something were to come of this Marcus.. you're risking a lot, for a man such as your king ... does not have sympathy for notions like this.. I would not bare it if he hurt you.."
 
The tiniest touch of Illayna’s body against his, where back rested against chest, had Marcus reeling just a bit. His mind was swimming with thoughts while his heart fluttered like a bird struggling in flight, the rapid thump, thump, thump sounding so loud in the stillness of the night. He knew he shouldn’t be here, not in this garden with her, but he didn’t care, not any more. It was time to do what he felt was right, to work towards a greater good while also spending time with her; it started now, in the beauty of the gardens and the peace of night. Glancing down at the flowers, he saw the corner of her lips turn up and she reached out to take them from his hand, her nose dropping down to take a sniff. It was such a natural thing to do when presented with such that he couldn’t help but smile in return, feeling a sense of happiness that she had liked his gift. “Oh, I’m sure he would, if he ever found out” Marcus whispered in the air, his breath teasing her ear just a touch “but since I fully intend to start a rumor as soon as I get back to the ballroom, one that says someone saw Lord Henderson pick them for his mistress, I think I’ll be safe.” Glancing down as he spoke, his gaze traced the delicate curve of her ear and he had the sudden urge to kiss it.

Thankfully she chose that moment to turn and face him, her hand sliding into his, skin brushing along skin. It gave him another sensation to focus on, the one that was shooting pleasurable jolts up his arm and into his heart, causing places of his body to tingle that hadn’t felt that way in a long time. He nodded in response to the words, his fingers lacing with hers, and began to walk beside her, their soft footfalls a faint sound in the air. “Of course, milady” he said softly, glancing shyly at her. “I’m all yours tonight.” The words could have been taken more ways than one of course and when he realized it he felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks. Lady Illayna was an acolyte of the Goddess and as such off limits to him but walking beside her in the darkness he couldn’t hide from his thoughts. Her hand was so warm and soft against his, fitting snug and tight as if it belonged, and without thinking about it, he slowly began to caress it with his thumb, running the pad of it lightly over her skin.

Illayna began to talk as they walked, her words flowing easily, filling the silence between them. He turned so he could watch her, his gaze tracing her lips, wondering what they would feel like against his. Though his body craved her, his mind listened intently, absorbing her words and playing them through his head. He used the time to study the garden, his gaze admiring the plants and the flowers, his nose absorbing the scents. Finally, he stopped them in a deep, dark corner and turned to face her. Reaching out, he took her other hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and studied her. The words that he wanted to say didn’t come to him easily, as Marcus was a man of action not speech, but finally he found them. “Lady Illayna” he said, his words come soft but true, “I would tempt many fates and take many risks to spend time with you. In a time of war, when our kingdoms battle day and night, you took a moment to get to know me when you didn’t have to do it. You took the risk first, not me, and for that I will be ever grateful.” He looked off into the night for a moment, debating how much to tell her beyond that, but then made his mind and flashed a smile. “My King is an arrogant man, milady, and will stop at nothing to destroy your kingdom. I intend to do everything in my power to see that he fails. I’m tired of bloodshed and death, tired of fighting; it’s time to end this war and bring peace to our kingdoms and I’m hoping that we can help each other do that somehow. If that brands me a traitor, then so be it.”

When she spoke again, he felt the grin fall into place and knew what he was going to do right before he did it. Tightening his grip on her hands, he slowly pulled her towards him, wanting to close the gap between them. Looking down at her, his gaze locked on her lips, he spoke. “What it would be a good idea for me to do” he said softly as his head bent down, closing the distance between them “is to thank you with a kiss.” His original intent, when he started to move, was to claim her lips but at the last minute, his gaze fell on her pendent and he redirected the kiss, placing it gently against her forehead. Stepping back after that, Marcus released her hands but stayed near her. “You are worth the risk, Lady Illayna” he said softly, his gaze on her pendant, a silent curse rolling through his mind “but perhaps we’ve pressed our luck enough tonight. I would like to see you again….to talk some more; perhaps together we can make a difference in this war.” With that, Marcus turned and slipped into the night, moving with the grace of a warrior at heart. Instead of leaving the gardens completely though, he took another path, circling back around so that he could watch over her as she left. No doubt, his Lord wasn’t the only one that saw the advantages of kidnapping a Princess and he would have no harm come to her.
 
Illayna had been so caught off guard as he pulled her close, but even more so as he feigned away from her lips and placed that kiss upon her crown. She felt flustered, confused as he pulled away and made part. Quickly disappearing. "So much for.. all night.." She whispered quietly. Dropping to sit where she had stood amongst the blossoming flowers. The bundle of flowers resting in her lap. She sighed deeply and looked down at the beautiful blues.. her fingertips brushing over the silk like petals. She played back the moment in her mind. Trying to figure out why he had changed his mind so suddenly. That's when it hit her.. the downward glace of his eyes. She reached to her neck and unclasped the chain there, bringing it to rest within both of her hands, the pendant glistening brightly back at her. The symbol etched within it.. burning bright. Reminding her again of why none of this was actually possible. She sighed deeply, her heart dropped and she sat there. Resting her chin upon her palm while her free hand fingered the smooth emblem.

She didn't want to go back to that party.. not yet. No one there remotely caught her interest and after this.. how could she pretend she supported her father.. and supported his decision to give her to the temple of the Goddess.. she felt now, like it was no longer her will to go. She wanted to hold on to that fluttering feeling she'd had moments before ,that had been whisked away with his leave. Marcus had proved his honor to his king was none existent.. but his honor to the goddess was far stronger. " I don't know if I'll be able to see him again.." The spoken truth hurt more than anything. She closed her eyes tightly and basked in the cool air. "Forgive me Marcus.." She whispered softly. She brought herself back up to a stand and made her way back the way she'd came. Stopping once to place the bouquet of flowers with one of her fathers guardsmen, who took them to the carriage for her.

As she entered back into the brilliantly lit ball room, she made way for her father, who welcomed her drunkenly with open arms, a red face, and a bellowing laugh. She smiled sweetly, and gently patted her fathers cheek. "Come father.. it is late, and we much be leaving." He frowned and then nodded sighing. "Always so motherly. Come Illayna lets go." They departed quietly, with Illaynas heart feeling crushed because of her sworn loyalty to the goddess. She helped her father out to the carriage and let him in first. "I'll be right back.." She whispered softly, and made her way back into the ball room. She was going to announce their leave to the High King, when she was suddenly cut off. Her eyes lifting from the shoes she could see before her, only to be greeted with the face of King Aquitaine. She froze, her breath caught in her lungs.

"M'Lord.." she whispered softly, trying to keep a respectful, fearless tone in her voice. "Excuse me.." She smiled slightly, attempting to make a path around him.
 
Standing deep in the heart of the garden, cloaked in the shadows of the night, Marcus listened. The sounds of birds twittering in soft coos and the rustle of leaves in the breeze filtered through his ears but were quickly discarded. He was listening for the sounds of footsteps, sounds that would let him know when Lady Illayna left or someone else joined them outside, and so he stood patiently, like a warrior in waiting. That he was here at all was a surprise to him, one he had not planned, for when he’d entered the garden to walk with her initially he’d had every intention of staying for a long while. Their small discussion though, and the concern she had displayed, had shaken him, particularly when the word “traitor” flowed from his lips and he’d felt no remorse. For years he had fought for Lord Aquitaine, shed blood and taken lives, and never once questioned a single order that he’d received. Something had changed inside him though, something that had taken root and become real, and he knew that his life as High Knight would forever be changed as a result.

Closing his eyes, that moment in the garden where he’d leaned down and placed a kiss against her skin replayed through his mind. His lips still tingled from the simple touch and his body ached with need, need that he had refused to quench further right then. The sight of her pendant had caused a spike of pain, the reminder clear to him; she was an acolyte of the Goddess and thus not his to claim. Turning traitor against his King was one thing, since it was for the greater good, but stealing her away from the Goddess would serve no purpose but a selfish one. That she was drawn to him had been made clear out on that dark balcony and he knew he felt the same way; thinking about that further though had him wondering. Had the Goddess brought them together so that they could work towards peace as Knight and Acolyte or had she done it for greater reasons than that? The deities had always worked in mysterious ways in the past but for the first time, Marcus was personally involved and had no clear direction.

The sound of footfalls fell on his ears then and Marcus stood erect, listening carefully to see if they were coming or going. A smile came across his face when he figured it out and so he padded softly down the path using stealth. He picked up Lady Illayna’s trail as she exited the gardens, following quite a distance away and felt a flare of happiness shoot through him when she passed the bouquet of flowers to her guard. From there she went back to the ballroom, merging into the crowd, and he soon entered too, pausing to get his bearings before moving off. He lost sight of her then as he was pulled from one conversation to another, finally ending up with a pair of sweet older ladies. His eyes continually scanned the room as he talked, watching for the Lady, hoping to get one last glimpse of her. When he did, he felt his blood run cold instantly, his eyes landing on the person in front of her. Lord Aquitaine barred her way to the High King, an arrogant sneer on his face, and when she tried to move around him, he stayed in her way.

Marcus immediately excused himself and threaded his way through the crowd, worried for Illayna’s safety. His Lord had been drinking that night and was well known for his temper when drunk; the Lady was in grave danger but only the High Knight knew that. Stopping a short distance away, he caught the words as they were flung at her. “So it’s the little Princess bitch from Greymere is it? I heard you were tempting my High Knight, you slut. He should have killed you while he had the chance.” His eyes swept her from head to toe then, gazing over every soft curve, and he sneered again. “Perhaps I should do it myself…after I enjoy a taste of your womanly offerings.” With that, the High Lord moved fast, one hand grabbing for Lady Illayna’s arm and the other reaching into his tunic, searching for something. Fear shot through Marcus then and he acted without thought, throwing his body between the two of them so that he might block any knife thrust. One hand shot out to deflect the High Lord’s wrist before it reached his tunic, while his other was thrust behind him to knock Illayna back a step. “Milord!” he said with reproach in his voice, his eyes staring into the maddened gaze of the man. “Following through on your threat will break the truce and bring the wrath of the High King down on us. I won’t allow that.” Turning around, he quickly mouthed “Go now” to Illayna and then turned back, hoping that she’d heed the warning and slip away while she could. Lord Aquitaine had recovered from his shock and raised his fist, striking Marcus with a solid hit to the chin before he could react. The blow was not without strength and it staggered the High Knight, dropping him to one knee. Glancing up at his Lord for a moment, Marcus considered retaliating and changed his mind, bowing his head instead. “Please accept my apologies, milord. I do this for the good of Narvarshal.” The words were spoken softly, with as much obedience as he could put into it, but inside Marcus was seething. He was doing this for Illayna, not for Narvashal, and he could only hope she’d understand that.
 
As Lord Aquitaine spoke, Illayna felt anger boiling in her blood. But when he snatched up her arm, fear stilled her to the core, and she felt her eyes widen. No amount of practiced calm, or kindness could wash the fear that instilled upon her when he crossed her path. He reached for something in his Tunic and Illayna immediately flinched trying to pull away and just as she opened her mouth to shout at him, Marcus barged between them and knocked her back out of the way. Illayna stumbled, another gentlemen reaching out to steady her. She let her hand cling to the mans shoulder. It was all she could do to keep from falling. She watched Marcus' face as he turned and mouthed those words to her. Upset and frustrated she took one last hard look at Aquitaine's face and turned to leave. She slipped through the crowd quickly and was met with a panicked guardsmen who had been making his way to her when he noticed the uprising. "My Lady, Princess are you alright?" His words were rushed and frantic, breathless. "I'm fine.. just please.. My father and I would like to return to camp now."

The guard quickly escorted her back to the carriage. It was a long quiet ride to camp, with her father in a drunken slumber and the knights on full alert. Illayna sat quietly, fingertips playing with the brilliant blue petals forming the tulips in her lap. Her mind replaying the events of the evening.. It would be best if she avoided contact with Marcus from here out. She had caught a glimpse of Lord Aquitaines reaction to his.. intervention and she did not want to put him in that position again. She did not want anyone getting hurt because of her foolishness.. how selfish had she been to think that she could work with Marcus, to help lead their kingdoms to peace? She had been very foolish.. very selfish and reckless.. that was not commendable. She could not encourage herself to behave as such. Besides.. Greymere would be hers to rule one day, and she will not have the blood of her fathers enemy on her hands. Not now, not ever. Especially.. not the blood of Marcus.

At just the thought, her heart hurt, it hurt so badly she could hardly contain the cry welling up in her chest, but the tears fell freely. She'd made such a mess of everything and they'd only been here a day. Lifting a delicate hand to brush those tears from her cheeks, she let her eyes fall upon her rosey cheeked, sleeping father. Certainly when the news of the evening caught his ears.. he'd be very unhappy.. she knew well enough what he'd suggest and she wondered if perhaps it would be best. That she go home... spend the remainder of the festival in the temple and out of harms way. No man in their right mind would dare to press a challenge against the temple and risk bringing the wrath of the God and Goddess down upon them and theirs. Or so she hoped desperately. That perhaps if she was absent from these events.. Marcus would remained unharmed.. and she would not be foolish enough to hurt him again. She could not bare the thought of hurting him again. It was her fault he'd been hit.. and it should not have happened.

"Stupid.." She whispered to herself. Pressing her forehead against the carriage panel. It felt cool against the heat in her face. She felt a little feverish. It wasn't long until they arrived back at camp, and Illayna was looking forward to sleep. However, she helped the guardsmen remove her father from the carriage and help him to his private tent. Readying him for bed. As she tucked him in, she kissed his forehead gently and whispered to his sleeping conscious. "Forgive me papa.." She sighed softly, and removed herself from his quarters. A single escort walked her to her own, and she thanked him kindly. The bundle of Tulips tucked in her arm. She slipped into the tent and set the Tulips upon the single table she'd been provided. Sitting there for a moment she admired them, as she unlaced the single Iris from her hair and laid it down amongst the brilliant blue tulips. The blues were so pretty.. but Illayna could not help that she was drawn more to the Iris.. and it's strange beauty.

She admired the flowers for a moment longer, before finally preparing for bed. She could fight her exhaustion no longer. The day had worn her thin, and she knew tomorrow would only bring more trial. She let down her hair, and unraveled the ribbons and pearls. Setting them in a small silver box for later. She tucked away the pendant with them. She had no heart to wear it. Blowing out the candles, and turning down the lantern she turned in for the night. Tomorrow.. was going to be a difficult day.
 
Kneeling on the floor, his eyes downcast, Marcus waited for the second blow to fall. His heart was pounding in his chest and his blood flowed fast but neither was a result of fear at all. No, the High Knight was angry, so very angry, rage boiling through his chest like a gazelle fleeing a wolf. The urge to take his Lord and hurt him, for his actions against Lady Illayna a moment ago, was a beast he wrestled with but won. When no blow came, Marcus slowly raised his eyes, letting his gaze stare at Lord Aquitaine. The man was standing still, his body virtually trembling, face reddened. If humans could steam, Marcus knew it would be flowing from the man’s ears, so great was his ire at his High Knight for the action he had taken against him. Just then footsteps could be heard as men burst through the crowd, quickly grabbing each man and pulling them apart. Marcus surrendered immediately, his body going lax, letting the High King’s guards restrain him. Lord Aquitaine fought at first but then settled down, the rage fleeing his system as quickly as it had come.

“Release them” a voice called out, booming through the room, the words echoing. It was the High King, having come to investigate, and at his command both men were suddenly let loose. Marcus turned to the High King and gave a deep bow, keeping his body in that position, his voice coming out a low murmur. “My apologies, High King” he said. “We did not mean to bring disgrace to your home.” He stood then and turned to his High Lord, giving him a slight bow too. “Your Highness, the night is late. We should leave this place and return to camp immediately.” Lord Aquitaine studied him for a moment and then gave a curt nod, turning and pushing through the crowd, his drunken steps slightly staggering. Marcus followed his Lord out, staying close to him, his eyes scanning the crowd. When he did not see Illayna, he breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she had heeded his warning and gotten out. His mind was twirling with emotions and thoughts, wondering what morning would bring. He had pushed his luck that night, stepping between his Lord and the Princess, but he would not see her harmed. Too much was at stake, for their kingdoms and his heart.

After collecting their weapons and reaching their horses, the men of Narvashal headed back to camp, silence their sole companion. Soon they were through the guarded gate with Marcus leading Lord Aquitaine to bed. The minute he’d put him down and turned to go, the drunken man’s hand shot out and grabbed him. “You have overstepped your bounds this night, Marcus, and I shall not forget that.” With those words, he was released and, with a curt nod, the High Knight left. Reaching his own tent he slowly stripped off his weapons, tucking one under his pillow, then dropped his clothes next. Sliding under the covers on his cot, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, willing his body to calm. Thoughts of the Princess invaded his mind but he welcomed them like he’d welcomed no others and it was with a smile on his lips that he drifted off. When he awoke the next morning, he bounded from bed, quickly splashing water on his face. Grabbing a towel and some soap, he headed to the makeshift bath house and quickly cleaned himself up then dressed in his best huntsmen clothes.

The first official day of the Midsummer Festival would begin with the rise of the sun. As per tradition, nobles of all the kingdoms, along with their guards, would participate in the Goddess Hunt, set to kick off in mid-morning. It was meant as a day of merriment, where the crowd traipsed through the woods and surrounding countryside in search of wild game, bringing what they took back for the first public feast that night. Marcus would be riding with his Lord along with a contingent of hand picked guards. Moving out of the bathhouse into the light of the day, he reached the stables and began barking orders for the horses to be readied. Next he visited the weapons master, selecting two hunting bows, one for himself and one for Lord Aquitaine. When that was he done, he headed for his tent, acknowledging the guards as he pass within. The Lord was up and dressed, his eyes scanning papers on his desk, but when he looked up, their gazes locked. Marcus snapped his feet together and stiffened his back, then gave a sharp bow. “Milord, the horses are getting ready and I have your bow for today’s hunt. He reached out and set the bow against a tent pole then stepped back. The High Lord studied him for a moment, then the bow, before nodding to Marcus. “Very well, High Knight. I shall be ready in just a moment.” He studied him some more and then went back to his papers, dismissing him anew. Marcus turned and left the tent, his thoughts on last night. No mention had been made of it so perhaps the High Lord didn’t remember it. Whistling softly to himself he headed for the chow tent, hunger making itself known. His steps were light and a softly whispered tune left his lips as he walked; his spirits were good despite his current circumstances and he wondered if he would see Lady Illayna again that day.
 
The guards outside the main tent cringed and flinched. The yelling and arguing coming from within was brutal. No one had ever heard Illayna raise her voice just so.. and the kings response was just as harsh. "THAT BASTARD MADE AN ATTEMPT ON YOUR LIFE ILLAYNA! " His worry was accountable, but Illaynas sudden eagerness to stay, despite the King of Narvashal was striking. "He did, but let him try it again, and I'll show him just what he's worth." She hissed through gritted teeth, snatched her towel and left her fathers tent, the tension was still suffocating, and the guards dared not to bar her exit. She finished washing up and returned to her tent. She's had a strange turn around last night, and would fight tooth and nail to stay here, rather than being sent home to safety.

When Illayna was called to her fathers tent once more, she was dressed for the days event. long honey curls were tied back in a long braid that drifted down the centre of her back. A pair of black leather pants clung tightly to her figure, met with a white tunic, cinched at her mid section, and met with a small belt that sheathed a dagger at her hip. Slender boots dare not thud against the earth as she walked, ducking beneath the tapestry and entering into her fathers tent, she was presented with the bow she would use for this event. The bow has been her mothers, a huntress at heart. Illayna smiled to herself and examined the weapon before nodding. "Thank you father, for coming to your senses." "Illayna.. I'm still worries. This could be a dangerous game you're playing.." "Really father.. I promise. I will keep my distance from all Narvashal members. " "You were raised to be a proper lady.. what skills your mother ensured you knew to protect yourself may not prove worthy here." She glimpsed the bow momentarily. " Let a man try father.. "
Ulric simply nodded and sent Illayna about her business again.

She moved to the small stable they had to begin prepping her horse. She took her time brushing and grooming, before moving on to the blanket and saddle. As she worked her way about the horse she forced herself to focus.. she forced Marcus from her mind. Every time the image of him passed through her memory she felt the tears sting at the back of her eyes. She couldn't see him again, she couldn't. His honor to the goddess was too strong, she would not will him to break it.. and her faith to her kingdom was too strong for her to turn away from the goddess and her chance at being queen. Gripping the knot and saddle, she shoved her booted foot into the holster and pulled herself up, swinging her leg over and settling in. She fixed herself and grasped the reigns, her right left hand partially gloved, and each wrist protected with a leather guard. She was thoroughly prepared to use her bow in the hunt, but for now she wanted to take a small ride through the city.

With a sharp nudge of her heels the horse began it's walk forward and out of the stable. Following her lead with the reigns. She relaxed into the motion, allowing herself to feel what the horse was feeling. She closed her eyes and just relaxed. listening for a moment. People were busying themselves with preparing for the event, she watched quietly as she rode by. Keeping the gait at a walk. She wasn't in a hurry, and nor was she in the mood to eat. Her stomach was in knots about everything.
 
The minute he stepped into the chow tent, Marcus paused and let his eyes adjust to the ever present gloom that hovered in the air. Noises of men in mid-conversation assaulted his ears and he felt a smile fall into place. These were his comrades, his fellow soldiers, his family; glancing around, he noted each and every one of them and nodded to himself. These men were why he did what he did now, why he had decided to work towards peace. These men, and the families that they had all left behind in Narvashal, were worth fighting for; even though the playing field and the end goal had changed, Marcus would still fight for all he was worth. The cause was an important one, not just for them but also for the good of two kingdoms and their citizens….and maybe, just maybe, for the love of one woman. Thinking of Illayna widened that smile on his face and put energy in his step. Last night in the castle, when he believed her life was in danger, all he could think about was protecting her, even at great risk to himself. She was an acolyte of the goddess and untouchable but in that moment, she had only been a woman in his eyes, one that he cared about. That realization gave him pause to ponder as he walked.

Shaking off the thoughts finally, he made his way through the food line, filling a plate before settling at one of the tables. Within moments he felt another body sit across from him and slowly raised his gaze, meeting Cedric’s. His second studied him for a moment and then picked up a hunk of bread, tearing into it before talking, light crumbs dribbling from his lip as he did. “Is it true, Marcus? Did you stop Lord Aquitaine from attacking the Princess last night?” The man didn’t have to mention Illayna by name for the High Knight to know who he referred to but he still paused before answering. Cedric has been his right hand man since the day he had become top knight but he was a fervent supporter of the war. They’d already had one “discussion” regarding his actions where Illayna was concerned and Marcus didn’t know where he stood now. Finally, he nodded. “It would have broken the truce, Cedric, and I couldn’t allow that. We may spill Greymere blood on the battlefields but we won’t do it at Midsummer Festival unless provoked. The Lord had been drinking and forgot that. Thankfully I was there to stop it.” Cedric studied him for a moment, his gaze boring into Marcus’s and finally he nodded. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself, Marcus, then so be it. We both know the truth.” With that, the knight stood and started to walk away, pausing to look back. “Watch your back today, Marcus.”

The High Knight watched him depart, Cedric’s final words playing through his mind. Had he heard something and felt compelled to warn Marcus? Or was he simply offering him good luck on the hunt? Unable to tell, he finished his food and stood, returning to his tent. Grabbing his bow, he made his way to the stables and readied his horse then directed the stable hands to take care of the rest. When the Lord arrived with the other nobles in tow, pleasantries were exchanged and then they saddled up and rode out, a retinue of guards in tow. Marcus kept an eye on the mood of the moment, waiting to see if the Lord acknowledged the previous night, but nothing was ever said and soon he began to relax. As their party passed down the roads, heading for the countryside, pedestrians scattered from their path, wise to the ways of the armies on the streets. Soon they left the city proper and moved to the rendezvous point, waiting and watching as other kingdom delegations began to arrive. Marcus stayed on his horse, his eyes scanning the gathering crowd, watching for the Princess, hoping for one last glimpse. He was torn inside regarding her, one part of his heart wanting to see what the future might hold and the other part wanting to respect the emblem of the Goddess. As he turned in his saddle, he came face to face with Lord Jacobs, the man having ridden up unnoticed, almost causing Marcus to startle. As soon as he acknowledged the man with a dip of his head, the Lord spoke. “That was a very brave thing you did last night, High Knight” he said, pitching his voice low so only Marcus would hear. “Just the sort of thing a leader of the future would do.” Glancing over at Lord Aquitaine for a moment then back at Marcus, he smiled. “Have fun out there today and be safe.” With that, the Lord turned his horse and cantered off, leaving Marcus staring after him. As the cryptic remarks played through his mind, the knight turned and began to scan the crowd again, looking for Lady Illayna and any Greymere men, wondering what the day would bring.
 
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