"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
There is a slow blink of a predator and a long, drawn-in breath that pinpoints a target. He doesn’t move, not yet. The world rushes past him, swirling as his eyes stare forward across the hills. She, Solace, frequented his mind almost as often as Isobell. The faint memory he held closely almost pained him during those lonely nights when the rain dribbled down his sides in a web of rivers. Castile didn’t seek shelter; he lied near a treeline or stood in an open meadow as his thoughts raced. He isn’t entirely certain what had happened to him – the ability to recall it is just out of reach – but when he swallows there is still the iron tang of blood that sends him spiraling.
What did he do? Did he kill? Did he hurt someone? Krigare. The battle. Is that what the taste is stemming from? Castile had no control over himself, of the monster that lurks in the recesses of his soul. He had been fighting just as he is now – hair, hooves, blunt teeth – but then there was a fleeting moment that his vision pooled red and there was blood and a scream. The memory of what he did, however, is hidden. That’s why he avoided coming to Hyaline until now. The fear of lost control, of the unknown. But Castile couldn’t force himself away for any longer. When he breathes a lungful of air, he can faintly taste her. A smile trembles across his lips, but it disappears just as quickly. There is no other option than to suppress the uncertainty bubbling within him; the urge to see her is far too great to ignore anymore. The border comes quickly, unexpectedly fast that stops him abruptly mid-step. His wings shift at his sides, feathered and complementing of his color. A heartbeat, then another, but he doesn’t call for her – not yet – as he hopes she will be just as drawn to his scent as he is to hers.
She stretches her wings, the tips of her feathers straining out and away, reaching into the void of the sky. The air holds her, like the lover she had never known, supporting her weight as and leaving her free to float. With unexpected force, the thermal lifts her again, and she braces the muscles along her back and across her chest creating the resistance against the wind, which carries her on faster than she could ever dream of running.
Equal measures of exhilaration and terror grip her in turn as she uses her wings for the first time, and she thinks how often those two emotions have gone hand in hand during her lifetime. But such thoughts are banished as she maneuvers through the air, turning towards the southern border to have a look around that quiet segment of her territory.
What she sees there catches her off guard.
"Castile," his name slips from her lips in surprise, but the sound is lost on the wind. Tilting her weight forwards she flys low, her hooves several horse-lengths above the stony ground as she flies towards him.
At first, two winters ago, she had thought of him constantly. But time had softened the memory of the day when fate had crossed their paths - she had been a different girl then. Her coronation, the return of Svedka, the arrival of Smoak: each of these events had pushed the memory of that bitterly cold day further away. But she had not forgotten how he made her feel, not now as she catches sight of him again.
"Castile!" Solace joyously cries from above, as she circles back to fly over him again. The young queen doesn't dare to land and risk a collision, and anyway, she really doesn't feel like grounding herself just yet. "Join me!"
Castile had ached for Solace; it haunted him knowing that he left her behind due to his own cowardice. He had hurt his opponent in battle; what would often be considered an impressive feat only bled regret into his gut. No one should be maimed in such a way, but the adrenaline took over. It blinded him of his sanity, and once a drop of blood spread across his tongue for the first time, there was no stopping him.
Never seeking out his opponent to guarantee his sentence, Castile fled to solitude.
He expects Solace to be angry with him, to look upon him with disdain as he forged his way to Hyaline, but she surprises him with the floating lightness of her voice. There had been no wings before, but Solace sports them with an elegant grace that captures his attention and never lets go. A smile tips up the corners of his mouth as he peers up at her, enjoying the excitement that paints her face. ”You’re a natural!” He calls up to her, his own expression beaming. It has been years since he last took to the skies with company at his side.
With the flutter of butterflies in his stomach, Castile doesn’t notice how the feathers of his wings fall away to a leathery membrane. What would’ve been thin, pink skin ripples into hardened scales.
Too engrossed in Solace, Castile takes flight after her and takes pause only when their bodies are within close proximity. ”Welcome to the club,” he says with a bout of laughter that rattles his bones.
Solace doesn't know that the year which had kept him away had been a bitter one, his countenance hardly shows it. She doesn't know that their encounter had haunted him, she would never presume to hold any claim over him. Excitement and anticipation are all that she feels as he takes to the sky with her - not anxiety for the time lost.
"You haven't seen me land yet!" She calls back in response to his compliment, with a wry smile on her lips and mirth sparkling in her vibrant blue eyes.
"Welcome to the club", he shouts over the wind and the laugh which shakes him is a beautiful thing. Her gaze is captivated by the transformation he undergoes, her lips parting and eyes widening. But she is not afraid, only fascinated. Flight had given her an independence and boldness she had never possessed before.
With powerful beats of her wings, Solace begins to climb higher into the sky leaving the stones and spring scents far below on the earth's surface. Her ivory forelock twists away from her brow, mingling with the onyx and cerulean of her mane as the air pulls them back and away from her outstretched neck.
"I think this means I won our bet," she says, happy to see Castile remains by her side as she climbs. "Because here you are, in Hyaline."
Maybe it hadn't exactly been a bet, but it was close enough - a challenge at least.
And maybe he didn't intend to stay, but this was close enough for now.
The air is clear and warm with the presence of spring. It lifts his spirits as high as his body, his great wings beating to the steady rhythm of his heart as he climbs altitude until nearly level with Solace. The joy that brightly paints across her face stirs something in him, but he doesn’t feed into it – not this time. He does, however, reciprocate the smile that she flashes in his direction as she shouts above the wind that he hasn’t yet seen her home. A twist in his gut reminds him of the memories of Hyaline, of the landscape that he was memorizing years ago. He has seen most of it, admittedly, but not since the fire that consumed much of the hills and the death that plagued the pond below. It has since healed; life has returned in abundance in the shape of emerald grass and crystalline water and meadows studded with vibrant flowers.
In his scrutiny, Castile did take note of the absence of Amet’s scent. It piqued his interest, albeit briefly, before Solace captured his focus again, as she so easily does.
Their bodies are synchronous as they upturn and climb toward the clouds almost as though nothing could ever stop them. Below, Hyaline recedes farther and farther away with a soft wink of the lake. A glance flicks back to see the rocks and hills dotting the landscape before looking at Solace and admiring the cerulean wings that carry her effortlessly through the sky. How and when, he wonders but never asks. How much did he miss when he was gone?
A sighing grin quirks his mouth when she reflects on a conversation they had back in the river, when their lives initially twisted together. He doesn’t admit his intentions, that this is only a visit and not a permanent fix. Instead, he simply jerks his head to the south. ”We could both be winners since Loess is just beyond that river.” They are so close to it, but there are no borders, no rules, or restrictions up here. They could almost fly forever, lose themselves in each other’s company and leave behind the responsibilities below.
Castile gracefully levels himself as a cloud engulfs him, kissing him with dew droplets. A twist and a turn and he is looking at a great expanse of Beqanna, then to Solace and back. ”Breathtaking,” he says, never specifying the subject of his marvel.
With half her focus on Castile her wing brace and bend in rhythm with the air currents naturally. Guided by an ancient instinct, which has only just awakened, Solace sores in tandem with the two-toned stallion. The tension which had marked their first encounter is nowhere to be found here in the sky - her heart is light and her smile easy.
The dance they weave is an exciting one for her, the adrenaline in her veins has her seeing the old world with a new sparkle.
Her flight is functional, but not beautiful, and she watches with admiration plainly written across her features as Castile soars with a grace and ease it will take her months to acquire. A vaporous cloud envelops him and with a laugh, for the novelty of it all, she follows. Her vision greys as the clouds surround her, but with a tilt of her great cerulean wingspan, she easily follows the dark shadow above her which is Castile. Bursting free of the dense vapor, Solace blinks her aquamarine eyes to clear away the droplets which have formed on her lashes before bringing herself alongside him again.
The idea that he could be eluding to her instead of the landscape never crosses her mind, and she earnestly agrees, "It truly is," she says, low enough that he could miss it as her gaze drifts out across her kingdom. But when she speaks again her voice rings out clearly as her pale face tilts in his direction. "I like that idea, lets both be winners then. Can we go now? I want to see where you spend your days."
He knew then as he knows now not to pursue her. Solace is the untouchable fruit, a mere image for his admiration.
It isn’t in his stars to find a singular love – this much he has told himself. With the unpredictability of his shifting, he fears a looming travesty. It would be best, he mused, to always keep himself caged away as to elude the onslaught of overwhelming emotions. Even this moment – how beautiful and serene it is! – teeters on the edge of his control as the cool wind whips through his mane and glides across his wingspan. The sense of freedom churns the creature inside him and rattles its prison bars desperately. His wings have already shifted to that of a dragon (his calling, his identity) but a periodic glance to Solace somehow tames the beast. Somehow, she prolongs his control.
”This way,” he calls out to her with an elated grin while tilting his weight south. With idle curiosity, he watches as the landscape shifts slightly with more rocky banks and less lush greenery. It still holds its own charm, of course, but Castile doesn’t stare down on it with a fluttering heart and pride. Nerine still lingers in his mind, an obstruction to his ability to find happiness elsewhere. With Ivar and Isobell turning their focuses elsewhere, he is alone. Mother and father have become figments of his memory.
With a heavy sigh and an easy glide, Castile spares a glance to Solace. ”Loess is below. A bit rockier than Hyaline, but not a huge difference,” he can’t shrug as his wings take a heavy beat but his voice subtly loses a small amount of enthusiasm. ”Ivar left, leaving me as the Regent until his daughter comes of age.” Castile has never imagined himself a leader; he has been a shadow most of his life. ”So, here I stay, but a greater part of me still leans toward Nerine. It’s where I was born, where my mother was Queen, where my father is…” or so he hopes, pushing aside the sinking pain that his family is no longer there.
sorry for the delay. I went ahead and pushed up the timeline a tad to reflect his promotion lol
Solace dreams of love rarely these days - unlike the first days of her reign when romance had consumed her thought on an unhealthy level.
Rarely had they been carnal thoughts, the actual mechanics of consummation, rather the companionship and dependability a mate would provide. The thought of never spending another night alone one some cold mountain summit.
She had nearly given up on that dream.
Maybe that is why the tension of their first meeting no longer binds the air between them, or maybe it has to do with the pressure that they both now find themselves under.
But that doesn't keep her from enjoying the elated grin slathered across his handsome face.
Suddenly they are beyond her kingdom and he is surprising her with new information. This is the Nerinian Queen's son, the current King of Loess, and she finds herself momentarily at a loss.
Not that is should surprise her - she knew barely anything about him.
Titling her weight earthward, she covers the potentially awkward lapse in conversation by making her descent. It isn't an elegant landing, but she is pleased that she doesn't completely make a fool of herself and her four hooves find soil again. Tucking her cerulean wing neatly over her golden topline Solace turns to him again, all traces of surprise replace by her usual pleasant expression.
"So Nerine, that's where your heart is." She understands better than many the magnetic pull of family. "Is that where you will return when Ivar's daughter is old enough to rule? It's kind of you to step in like that..." she had noted the lack of enthusiasm in his statement, and that was the one thing which didn't surprise her.
"ruling isn't an easy task," the queen adds with a laugh that's just short of easy.
Castile doesn’t consider himself powerful, or even impressive, when he mentions his parents; he doesn’t even glance back to watch Solace’s reaction because he doesn’t entirely expect one. For a long while, he opens up to her, but he isn’t sure why. For years, Castile has kept to himself and never fed into someone’s curiosity for him. Each individual knew him in a different way.
Ivar is a childhood friend and their mothers are friends as well.
Ciri knew him as partially a dragon boy, one that she decided against when Amet lingered on her mind.
Heda knows him as only a Regent and a friend of Ivar.
Karaugh knew him as the monster she unleashed.
In reality, only Ivar truly knows him and even then, there are many things between them that remain a mystery.
So, why he indulges Solace, he doesn’t know. There is an easiness about her, a blissful air that follows her as they swirl together among the clouds between the kingdoms until Loess calls them downward.
They land together in a harmonious dance before coiling their wings neatly to their sides. A brightened glance finds Solace’s delicate face and his gaze dwells for a long moment before forcing himself to blink away and look at the rolling hills of Loess. ”It holds my heart,” he agrees after a heartbeat of thought, ”but I’m not sure if I could find a place there. A matriarchy doesn’t have much space or use for a stallion.” An airy chuckle tumbles past his lips. The thought has previously crossed his mind, and although he doesn’t seek a crown, he at least enjoys playing a role and being someone.
”I guess I will see how young Lepis feels when she is older and ask if she would have use for me or not.” Remaining a soldier is his primary objective, one in which can often be beneficial in a herd, but he can only hope that the looming darkness inside doesn’t consume him.
With a nod of his head, Castile guides Solace toward a small pond where he swallows a full gulps of water. When his thirst is satisfied, he levels his mismatched eyes on her again. ”Ruling may not be easy, but it seems that you excel at it.” A boyish grin and a lofty sigh punctuate the compliment.
Solace has no idea how truly powerful Castile is, but she does understand that there is something different about him. There is a prowess in his stride and a mystery to him that holds her interest - she doesn't know that those are glimpses of the dragon which slip threw his more domestic persona.
"If she's smart she will keep you around," Solace replies with a laugh, as his misstated eyes linger on her face. The last time they had met she had shied from his heated gaze - but now a queen, she refused to do so.
As he turns for the spring she does the same, wading in until the icy waters surround her fetlocks. Lowering her velveteen muzzle she drinks deeply; the wind and laughter had dried her throat. His gaze is hot upon her once again, and she returns her head to its usual high-set placement as the freezing water drips like a string of diamonds from her lips. Castile offers his compliment and his grin is contagious, she finds that she can't help but reflect the expression back to him - even as she begins to contradict him.
"Well, I'm not sure if excel is exactly the right word, but thank you, Castile." Her hooves and cannon bones begin to feel numb from the cold and she takes several steps to return to the bank of the pond, her gaze floating over the low hills until they find the empty horizon line. The grin fades as she takes in the view that his kingdom presents, much like when they flew over Hyaline, they are the only living creatures within sight.
"Hyaline is much quieter than it was back when Amet was king... sometimes I worry that he will come back and be disappointed in me."
