The sun climbed into the sky, taking over from the moon's evening shift, as it cast it's golden rays across the vivid cerulean sky. Rowan charged through the snowy hills on his palfrey, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He sped past rolling drifts, frozen streams and ponds. The crisp, fresh air of powdered snow gave him comfort and made his nose tingle. His pale olive skin was cool to the touch where it met the freezing air.
But where it was shrouded in all sorts of wools and hides, it was tepid. The young lordling was garbed in all black. His tunic covered his torso, insulating the warmth his body provided against the cold and harsh climate.
Over his tunic, he wore a tabard, a loose sleeveless outer garment worn over the tunic, lined with fur for additional warmth. Rowan's gaiters covered his black leather boots, protecting them from snow and moisture.
His black boiled-leather gloves warmed his hands as they tightly gripped the reins of his black palfrey as they wizzed through the hills. And to top it off, his raven furred peacoat was his main source of warmth.
Rowan squinted as he caught sight of what he was chasing after. The onyx deer darted up the rocky path of the substantial mountain to his left, it's peaks topped with fresh snow.
Rowan firmly squeezed his legs, sending the horse into racing ahead, faster than it ever had before. Rowan grunted as his charcoal palfrey zoomed after the onyx deer.
The palfrey climbed up the steep trail of the mountain, sending pebbles cascading down it's slope. Rowan fought hard to keep his steed on the path, to ensure them both from falling to their doom.
The palfrey neighed and galloped ahead as it raced after the deer. Soon, they whipped round a sharp corner, just nearly missing it's edge. Rowan's breathing accelerated rapidly as they gained higher ground.
One wrong turn and it would be their end. Rowan's arms ached, his chest was sore and his nose burned, but he would not let himself wander from the task at hand.
Before long, they were up the mountain, stationed among it's twin peaks on a vast patch of snowy terrain. The deer had nowhere to go. It jumped around apprehensively as Rowan slowly dismounted from his exhausted palfrey.
He slowly approached the trapped and fearful animal. It swung it's head as a warning, brandishing it's deadly antlers, but it did not charge. It huffed, it's breath misty in the cold.
Rowan slowly spread his arms to try and calm the majestic and apprehensive creature. The deer slowly stopped oscillating it's head and instead held it down, like it was suddenly contrite.
It snorted once more and calmed, allowing Rowan to approach it. Rowan slowly paced towards the creature, unsure of what his next step would be, or rather, how to go through with it.
"Good boy," he said, his breath misty. "Or girl."
He nearly reached the animal, when out of nowhere an arrow came flying from his left, piercing the skin in the deer's side, just below his forelegs. The onyx-creature huffed, it's eyes wide as it bleated.
It stood on it's hind legs, towering over Rowan. The young boy was just as shocked and panicked as the poor creature was. It stomped in front of Rowan, as the lordling attempted to soothe the creature once more, but he knew that this time it would be to no avail.
The deer darted past him, attempting to make a narrow escape, before being striked with two more arrows, one in it's eye and the other in it's head. The beast dropped abruptly in it's sprint, creating a snowdrift. The snow beneath it scattered like dust.
The creature was dead.
Rowan sprints, falling to his knees as he places the deer's head in his lap. The animal is no longer breathing. The arrows jutting out of it's body doesn't soothe Rowan's unease.
He quickly pulls the arrows from it's head and eyes. This part of it is no longer safe to eat, as the arrow has struck a vital organ. Contamination. The best the kitchen staff could do now is attempt to handle it's hindquarters as best as possible, so that his family could at least say that they've feasted on an onyx-creature.
"Why did you do that?" Rowan spoke blatantly. "It was calming down."
"It was not," the girl blustered, emerging from the boulder where the arrows had come from.
"You shot it in the head and eyes," Rowan replied, not looking back at her.
"Yeah, didn't mean for that to happen. I'm still getting used to this thing," the girl remarked, coming up beside Rowan and looking down at the creature in his lap.
He knew this girl, that much was certain, although there was no sense of fear in his eyes, no sign of unease. Whatever their past, she posed no threat to him.
"For goodness sake, Rowan, it wasn't like this thing was your wife or anything," the girl mocked. "Or was it?"
"I don't know whether it was a boy or a girl."
"Wish it could've told you."
Rowan shifted his gaze to look at the girl beside him and raised an eyebrow at her. Her hands rested on her hips, her fingers splayed, as she shrugged - casual and apathetic, yet laced with a silent confidence that required no words.
Her skin was a great deal paler than Rowan's. Although, her hair was the same cinnamon hue as his, and so were their eyes.
"Eleanoure, you're twelve, what were you even doing out here?" Rowan questioned as he came to his feet, the deer's head plopping down on the crimson snow.
"I come here to read," Eleanoure admitted, gazing off into the distance.
"I don't see any books."
The girl paced to the mountain's edge, swung her legs over and plopped herself down, admiring the view from it's perspective.
"Fine, you got me," Eleanoure replied, "I come here to shoot birds out of the sky. For practice."
"Harsh," Rowan said, plopping himself down next to her.
"Really?" Eleanoure grinned, satisfied. "Thanks."
The siblings sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the breathtaking landscape. "That's ours," Eleanoure said. "The hills, the castle, the lakes and ponds."
"Castle? What castle?" Rowan asked, wittingly.
Eleanoure nudged Rowan's shoulder and grinned. But the smile fell as quickly as it came, fading into stillness. They reclined in silence, the weight of the moment settling between them. "Do you ever wish life had plopped you somewhere else? Like what if you were born as...I don't know, a farmer's son?"
Rowan feigned to contemplate hard and long, stroking his goatee. "I don't know," he replied in conclusion. "Then I would probably be accustomed to that lifestyle, perhaps wishing that I were the son of some lord, and had a title and could stuff my face with pudding everyday and never had to do chores or anything like that."
"Okay point made," Eleanoure said, laughing. "I just.."
"I know," Rowan remarked. "Mother doesn't approve of this."
He stroked the riser of her finely crafter bow, the wood dark and infused with obsidian, a gift from the last Noxarion King to her father. Her father gifted it to her, as she's fond of these sorts of things and he himself wasn't accustomed to using bows.
He was a man for longswords and shields, clubs and whatnot.
"Fuck mother," Rowan said.
"Rowan," Eleanoure said, her mouth wide open before she burst into peals of laughter.
Silence fell again once Eleanoure's laughter faded into the atmosphere. The air was warm and comforting as the siblings rested beside one another.
"What do you think she would say if she saw you right now? Here on this mountain, I mean," Rowan wondered, shattering the silence.
"Hmm," Eleanoure pondered for a while. "Something bad. I don't know."
"She loves you."
"I know."
She knew, but she didn't always. Her mother's love to her felt as fleeting as summer once winter ended. In Velara there would be peaches year round, in the gardens of the Sunstone Keep is where it would be the sweetest.
Her mother's love made those sweet peaches temporary to her. So they only lasted as long as she presented herself as a little lady. She loved the taste of the Sunstone peaches.
She wanted them to stay forever, but they required loads of work and attention. Things she wasn't always up to giving. So she didn't, and now it was like she had to forever live without the crisp, sweet taste of the Sunstone peaches.
"Best start home before night dawns," Rowan said, jumping up beside her. He offered her his hand. Eleanoure gratefully took it.
"I don't suppose you brought Liora?" Rowan questioned, dusting the snow off his peacoat.
"Of course I did," Eleanoure replied. The girl then offered a smooth, tender whistle, and from the exact boulder Eleanoure had jumped out of, emerged a lustrous silver mare, her coat radiant like celestial light on a lake's surface.
"That's probably the only thing lady-like about you," Rowan remarked, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
"Shut up," Eleanoure said chuckling as she mounted her steed. "Well, then, I'll see you back home."
And the girl was off, darting past Rowan's onyx palfrey and down the steep mountain trails. "You're not going to help me with this?" Rowan exclaimed after her. He sighed, as she was long gone.
"Never a dull moment with her," Rowan declared to his palfrey who responded with a sheepish look, it mahogany eyes glossy. Rowan retrieved a silver dagger from his belt and disembowled the animal, it's entrails steaming on the crimson snow, pink and raw.
He scooped the rest out with his gloved hands, plopping them down next to him, piling them in a heap of tragedy and pain. He made a abhorred face as he did this, still not entirely accustomed to hunting and having to undergo...this.
Rowan then grabbed the deer by it's antlers, dragging it's disembowled corpse across the crimson streaked snow where it had bled.
He hoisted the beast onto his steed's back, it's body limp, it's lifeless eyes wide. He secured it's hooves to prevent dragging and secured it's body with a rope.
He then mounted his palfrey and they were off, slower than usual, with the lifeless beast. It would take them a while to get home now, but once they did, it was roasted deer and ale.
Once Rowan was down the mountain onto the snowy planes of Frostholm, he felt more at ease, knowing that now there wasn't a chance of them plummeting to their death's from an unimaginable height.
Rowan urged the palfrey forward, sending it strolling through the snowy hills of this frozen realm. Frostholm, home of the Frosks, a House enveloped in the folklore of antiquated wars and fortified by an unyielding nature - or rather, more suitably, by the relentless climate that forged them.
Here, among the desolate and acrid winds, power is forged in war, and the frail were left behind to perish in the frost.
Rowan cantered resolutely through the winter-blanketed hills, his main objective to keep the deer secure.
Up ahead, he spotted his sister, Eleanoure, fixed like a sentinel in the far distance. A small smile pulled at Rowan's lips, and with a chuckle, he prompted his palfrey into a swifter pace, keen to reach her side.
Before long he was beside her. "You tricked me?"
Eleanoure shot him a sheepish look, tilting her head in confusion. "You look different."
"What do you mean?" Rowan questioned, his smile collapsing. "We were just together."
"I don't mean to offend," Eleanoure hastily remarked. "You're eyes...get some sleep. For me?"
Rowan nodded, although his frown remained.
"You did a pretty good job," Eleanoure declared, looking back at the deer's limp body, it's legs hanging over the steed's side, dangling, lifeless.
"Thanks," Rowan replied, grinning.
"Welcome home, Rowan," Eleanoure said, her tone warm and loving.
"Thank you, Eleanoure."
Frostholm, their home, rose tall and formidable, it's dark grey cobblestone walls invoking a perception of angst. The fortress was backed by a vast, frozen lake and beyond that, stood towering mountain's, peaked with snow.
Frostholm itself wore a mantle of frost, it's low spires circular and wide with triangular roofs. From the outside, the hum of activity could be heard, handmaidens rushing about, cooks tending to their fires, blacksmiths hammering away in the forge.
"That's our home," Eleanoure expressed. "Everyone's going to want to hear the tale of how, Rowan the Great, captured and butchered this formidable beast."
Eleanoure spoke with feigned triumph.
"They're not going to do that," Rowan replied.
"I've missed you, Rowan," Eleanoure declared, her eyes bright with tears. "We all have."
"I've missed you guys, too," Rowan responded.
Just then, the great wooden gates of Frostholm slowly groaned open, and Rowan's sibling sprinted out to greet him. Rowan dismounted from his palfrey, meeting them with open arms and a wide grin plastered on his face.
There were six of them altogether.
Eliot, the smallest of the lot, jumped into Rowan's arms. The two embraced for a moment and Rowan ruffled his mahogany hair. "I've missed you, Eliot."
Eliot chuckled and stood back as Rowan greeted the others. "Jaycen," Rowan said. "Its's good to see you again." The boy was around the same age as Eliot, both nine.
Jaycen came forth as reticent, but once he got comfortable, he was a complete gabber. "Is that what I think it is?" Jaycen asked, his eyes wide as he stared at the limp onyx-deer on the back of Rowan's palfrey.
"It is," Rowan replied with a chuckle, his eyes bright with amusement. "Would you like to touch it?"
Jaycen's eyes widened in disbelief and he vigorously shook his head, no. Rowan grinned once more and knelt down to squeeze the young boy. "I've missed you."
"You too," Jaycen said softly, looking up at Rowan before quickly running back to stand next to his brother, Eliot.
"Amelia," Rowan said in a grim tone.
"Rowan," the girl replied.
She was older than the rest, around the same age as Rowan, her mahogany hair wavy and extensive. Her eyes were onyx-black, her face snow-pale. She was garbed in fine pastel silks of all shades of blue.
Unlike Eleanoure, Amelia strived to present herself as a lady. Rowan and Amelia grimly stared at each other for a moment, the air tense, before they burst into peals of laughter and embraced one another.
"You've been gone for ages," Amelia said. "I didn't think you'd make it back."
"I've missed you, too, Amelia."
Lord Alden cleared his throat, the sound rich and comforting, like a match that refuses to go out even in the fiercest winds, but there was also a chilling edge to this sound.
"My son," Lord Alden said. "Welcome home."
Lord Alden's voice was bathed in ice, the sound deep and foreboding, but comforting to the boy.
"Thank you, father," Rowan replied.
"You've done well," Lord Alden remarked, his gaze fixed on the onyx-deer that hung lifeless from the palfrey.
"Indeed he has," a feminine voice chimed, coming up from behind Lord Alden.
"Mother," Rowan stuttered.
"Welcome home, Rowan," Lady Elara smiled. Her gown was a deep shade of indigo with patterns and swirls that mimicked those of ice.
Lord Alden the Swordswayer and Lady Elara the Winter Rose. The two pillars that upheld Frostholm. Rowan was proud to them his parents. So were all his siblings.
"Well, the guards will get this inside," Lord Alden said, clapping his gloved hands. "You've done well. Truly."
Rowan nodded as his family led him inside. He noticed the crestfallen gaze his mother shot Eleanoure as she dismounted her horse. Eleanoure saddened, but said nothing.
"We have so much to catch up on," Lord Alden said. "It's been a chaotic couple of months."