"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
I stand at the edge of the kingdom, my expression as unreadable as my dark eyes look over the valley that spreads below me. It has been years since I had last been to the Dale, and despite that it still feels like home. There is no replacing childhood, I think as I see the little pond where Kratos and I had chased frogs, and the wild-flower filled meadow where we had spent hours playing ‘the warrior and the diplomat’. In the distance I see the outline of my grandmother’s mausoleum; its sharp angles are a bold contrast to the gently rolling hills of the Dale.
Though it seems as though I could step across the border and be returned to my childhood, I stay at the edge, waiting to be invited in. I am no longer the little spotted prince with a broken mouth; I am a king in my own right, with loyalties to a land not so different from the Dale. I have heard that the war is over, but I had waited several more weeks to travel, knowing that sometimes rumors are false, and not wishing to risk leaving my kingdom when it might need me the most.
I know that my kingdom has nearly always been allied with the Dale, but I am also aware that the last agreement had been between Tiberios and Ramiel. I am not Tiberios’ successor, but rather Tiberios’ co-ruler’s successor’s successor, along with Ygritte. Who knows what might have changed between that agreed alliance and our current one? I am here to answer that question, to ascertain where our kingdoms are in relation to each other, and to reestablish the alliance if the current ruler of the Dale is so inclined.
I let out a low call, my tenor voice pitched higher than usual. I’ve only just begun to grapple with the kingdom’s gift to me; sometimes my voice emerges with a wildcat yowl, and other times it is only the call of a stallion. Today seems to be a good day, and to confirm that I shift my hooves to paws. Yes, I say to myself as my front claws rake the soil in front of me, today is a day with magic. I’m content to wait until someone finds me, and in the meantime settle down in a sunny clearing of the forest to browse at the grasses that grow in plenty.
The Dale had made a promise to aid the other kingdoms in their war against the Chamber. And unlike recent promises, neither the tragic and suspicious death of their monarch nor their own inner-kingdom strife had kept them from fulfilling their word. Ramiel is proud of their contribution, of their warriors. Even if their numbers hadn’t been extraordinary, their bravery in the face of absolute chaos was. Because any who had made it through the cycle of flame and frost had to be either incredibly brave or foolhardy. Any who had dug their heels further into the charred (and then frozen) ground instead of turning tail and running were survivors. Somehow, through the heavy veil of smoke, he’d managed to see Phaedrus and Weir in the thick of it. As he makes his way through the spring-infused kingdom, the grey stallion reminds himself to promote the two soldiers for a job well done. Not that leaping rank is reward enough for putting their lives on the line – they deserve all the accolades heaped on them – but it will have to suffice for now.
Even though the rest of the world has slowed, the Dale is beginning another kind of acceleration.
The threat of war had loomed over them like clouds fat with their hidden devastation. Now that it is clearing with the spring, it is time to rebuild and start fresh. He wishes, more than anything, that Ea was here to help him commence their awakening. But the woman dipped in silver (in both body and mind) had been taken from them right when they needed her most. Ramiel crests a hill and shakes his head. Why would she stay when he couldn’t even protect her from an easy steal? While he’d been off fighting for his life, opportunistic scavengers had temporarily claimed her. It riles him, but he cannot let it cloud his own mind like war had. He has to look forward, even if it is without Ea for a while.
A low call interrupts the storm brewing in his head. The charcoal man veers away from his path parallel to the river and heads towards their northeastern border. There, the forests cluster tight and dense, a natural barrier against a land they hardly need protecting from. They have gotten on famously with the Dazzling Waterfalls for too many generations to count; their’s is a historic relationship with few blips of animosity ever occurring between them. To Ramiel, though, the Falls will always only remind him of his brother.
The ghost-king picks his way through the thickening fields. As the trees rise closer, so too does the grass, growing taller and interspersed with thorny shrubs. He is careful to avoid these, but by the time he enters the forest, his slate coat is dotted with burrs. “Hello,” he says when he spies the spotted stallion lipping at the ground. The other man is large and ornately colored – it would be hard to miss him anywhere – and Ramiel decides rather quickly that he’s never met him. A diplomat, he guesses, no warrior would be so lackadaisical at the border of another kingdom - unless he’s been here before. His golden gaze is watchful but soft; an easy smile curls his lips. The threat might be over, but retaliation is like a bee boring at the base of his skull. One never knows. “Can I help you with anything? I’m Ramiel.”
It's not a proper meeting without Weir, or was it? Anyhow he was more often than not present for such occasions, can't think he would make this one an exception.
It's the smell that strikes his fancy first, lifting his attention from a quiet cluster of baby bunnies to the skies. The wind had a way of sweeping down the mountain and funneling smell through the heart of their home, like a great vacuum- or Weir thought so. Without a nicker he lives the little kits where they lay, hoping that he hadn't intruding so much so that their Mother was too far off. Surely not, he had been on his best behavior after all.
Even Darwin had remained silent, watching the small grouping with interest just as Weir, whispering back and forth with their observations. Animals of all kinds were simply fascinating and with the new year there were plenty of tiny new faces to see. It seemed the War had not taken it's toll on all things, simply the array of equine that called Beqanna home.
With a quick goodbye Weir travels in style, his favorite style- a blizzard. A funnel of wind and snowflakes that could twist and turn all sorts of ways over each hill and rock. It was easy once he had gotten the hang of it and lately it was his favorite means of transportation. Even Darwin could not protest on the delight it brought and that was saying something- he was an awfully opinionated soul.
As quick as, well, as a blizzard he finds the already gathered parties. One is a claw footed man he has never met, the other is an all too familiar gray. He chortles as he sweeps about them, finally settling into place beside Ramiel where he takes shape. A whirl of wind and he builds, snow on snow until he stands as a pleasant horse-shaped snowman. "Hallo! Welcome to the Dale." Darwin forgoes theatrics, standing with his neck stretched out, green and shelled and whole. Normally whole that is, none of this snowman nonsense.
“ Hello Ramiel, ” I say as the grey stallion approaches, swallowing the last of my brief meal. “ I'm Kreios, from the Falls. ” He might know this, of course, having been to my kingdom before (I recognize his name). I spare a quick glance to the gold streaks in his mane, and remember Texas' tales of the black and gold Tiberios. Had the two of them been related, I wonder? My step-mother marks her descendants with a bit of gold, I recall, but both Tiberios and Ramiel are too old to be Yael's children. No relation of mine, then, I decide, but the two stallions might have been more to each other than the monarch's of allies kingdoms. Perhaps my great-grandmother's habits have not died out entirely in Beqanna.
None of this matters, of course, but it flits through my mind as the smaller stallion comes through the brush to greet me and I wait until he's near enough to converse to reply. I;’m about to speak when an unexpected breeze whips through the air, smelling of ice and winter. That does not belong, I think, but not before the whirl of snow begins to solidify into a solid shape before my very eyes. I watch, intrigued, and when the shape is finally recognizable as a horse – and a living horse! – I do not hold back the amused chuckle that rises, unbidden.
“Now that’s a fancy trick,” I tell the stallion (and perhaps also the gigantic tortoise that’s appeared beside him; I’ve no wish to offend).
“It’s welcome back, really.” I tell him, and by default grey Ramiel. “I was born and raised here, back when my mother was Queen.” I do not name her (not because I am narcissistic enough to expect to be recognized immediately, but because saying her name is still painful these many years later). Still, there was only one large spotted queen in recent memory and given her romance with the equally large king of the Desert, there’s little doubt who I might be: one of Lyric’s sons. “Though I’m here on business, now, and not to stay.” There’s little pause between my previous statement and this one, just enough for me to put the words together in my mind.
“I’m here to discuss the possibility of renewing the Alliance that the Falls has with the Dale. To my understanding it still stands, but enough time has passed that I felt a reconfirmation was appropriate, especially given recent…events.” We had stayed out of the war, a decision made mostly out of self preservation. Still, we had (and do) intend to aid the injured as well as we could with the magic of our kingdom. Fortunately (or perhaps not?) no one has yet sought us out.
To say the war has occupied the majority of his thoughts would be a gross understatement.
Ramiel had barely spared consideration for any other politics while the inter-kingdom conflict spread its greedy fingers across Beqanna, snatching the Dale into its unyielding grasp. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten their allies in the mess. The Jungle’s friendship had been the primary motivator for them to join in the fight, after all. But their relations with the other kingdoms had become like a pond, murky and stagnant. He no longer knew where they stood with their once-allies of the Tundra and Falls. The Brotherhood had been increasingly silent in their dealings with the Dale to the point where Ramiel considered it a dead deal. And the Falls had become similarly tight-lipped after the passing of Tiberios. They hadn’t even sent a delegation to announce what the ghost-king already knew (the aftermath he had witnessed first-hand, much to his disgust and deep sorrow). But he hadn’t paid it much attention at the time.
There was far more to worry about than silence from those sitting on the side-lines.
Now, with the sinking of the unrest and the smoothing of once-turbulent waters, they can re-establish their bonds. He’s glad the Falls has taken the initiative to finally send a diplomat. The other neutral kingdom has proven themselves far more neutral than the Dale has ever been. And while he respects their decision to remain out of the war (for whatever good reason he’s sure they have) he doubts his brother would have remained passive in the face of battle. Perhaps a small part of him resents the water-inclined territory for the inactivity.
Either way, it doesn’t show on his face when the stallion reveals his homeland. He dips his head in acknowledgement, about to inquire further, when Weir appears. Or rather, a supernatural blizzard defiant in the throes of summer sweeps into the clearing. Weir materializes from the swirling white, accompanied by his constant testudine companion, Darwin. The red roan offers Kreios another greeting as the remaining snowflakes quickly evaporate in the heat. Ramiel is always glad to see his odd friend, and he spares him an easy grin before turning back to the foreigner.
Partial foreigner, that is. “Ah,” the grey begins, wondering how long ago it must have been for the spotted man since he stepped foot into the Dale. It immediately but marginally softens him to the Falls resident; anyone born in the mountain land is still a part of their extended family, no matter how many miles are between them now. “Well you haven’t moved too far away, then. The Falls are a natural second choice.” He grins again to show his jest, hoping Kreios is game enough for the dig. His mother had taught him all of the rulers she knew of the Dale. His education had been both thorough and lasting; Ramiel thinks the man’s dam couldn’t have been anyone else but Lyric. But without Kreios’ willingness to dwell on the subject, he acquiesces and moves on.
He listens as the other talks about confirming their alliance. The fact that the neutral kingdom believes it to still be in effect is reassuring – it had never died out in Ramiel’s eyes, anyway. “The Dale would most likely be agreeable to a continued alliance with the Falls. But I would like to meet with its new monarch before it is set in stone.” His golden eyes find Weir’s amber ones, curious to know the man’s thoughts on the matter. As one of the aforementioned warriors who had put their life on the line, would he be worried that they were allying with the passive Falls? At least they would have time to discuss it before anything was concrete. The charcoal stallion turns back to Kreios. “What does the king or queen have in mind as far as terms and conditions on this alliance? The Dale will not be sending a member to live there, if that policy is still in effect.”
BETTER BEWARE, I GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
The heavy musk of the spotted king is one that Ygritte has come to know well. It mingles wildly, playfully against the breath of wildflowers. She knows he is off to the Dale in pursuit of some kind of alliance, perhaps one that once was held and the salmon pointed bay mare commends him for that, admires him and his devotion to their home. Ygritte, however, decides that perhaps it is best to accompany the wild cat male. The Falls' borders was well patrolled by the residents and Ygritte did not doubt their allegiance to the kingdom and so the slender limbs begin to move the lithe form after Kreios.
The flora bends to show her the path when the scent is weakest, the plant life kissing her skin and caressing her hooves. Ygritte murmurs little compliments to the pretty flower and ancient trees. She is comforted by the existence of forms of vegetation. Ears flicker to and fro, nostrils flaring when she has the trail once more. It would not be much longer before she had the rugged speckled body in her sights.
But it is not only Kreios that she finds but another. The flower crown dome cocks ever so slightly as the leisurely stance widens and her pace quickens, not necessarily eager or rushed for the massive patriarch was well enough on his own without the sienna woman. The other equine is of a granite stone under wild spring waters, a thundercloud forming on open spring plains. She notes that he is taller than she when she nears but Kreios still stood towering.
The coral tinted lips touch lightly against Kreios' hindquarter then again once more on his shoulder as she enters the conversation. Light cocoa tinted pools look to the other stallion, thick lashes falling over the ambers before lifting to meet his gaze. The edges of her lips tug upward in a touch of a smile as she dips her head to him politely. "Gentlemen-" her attention shifts to Kreios then to Ramiel, "I am Ygritte. Hope I am not interrupting but I felt like I needed to look out for this big guy." She gives a little jest, her features softening and brightening as a smile blooms genuinely across her lips.
“Welcome back then indeed.” Weir announces, fully agreeing with the sentiment. Perhaps it is because the spotted male had so far been so pleasant and kind, or maybe it was because he could hardly take his eyes off the man’s feet. What a glorious foot! Of course here was another thing Weir had not seen and surely not every day mind you. Where one solid hoof should be at the end of the man’s legs there was instead clawed toes. Toes! He could hardly contain his interest and he wasn’t known for being discreet.
“Happy to meet you, I am Weir, this is Darwin.” He gives a nod of his rusty head to the large tortoise at his side. Darwin hardly ever left and when he did he wasn’t really gone.
For the most part Weir is silent during the discussion, taking in the exchange all while staring holes into Kreios’ paws. Simple fascination fills him as he listens to the discussion of alliance, of terms and what it would mean for the Dale to continue ties with the other neutral Kingdom. More neutral than even the Dale but he was sure the waterfall residents had convictions of their own to uphold.
With meeting the new heads of residency Weir can agree, though it is not often or ever that he disagrees with Ramiel. Even so, when he did it was for good reason he was sure.
The idle talk is soon tilted of course with the approach of another, this time a woman. Her pelt is dipped at the ends, the color of fish in the river or the pinky-orange of a sunset. She assures them she is here to look after the claw footed man but if you asked Weir, the spotted male need no assistance. He had claws for goodness sakes. Perhaps though this was the males mate, her lingering closeness suggested as much in Weir’s mind and he could only smile in return.
“Well met good lady.” He adds to his grin, Darwin too bringing his wandering eyes back to the conversation to say a quick hello
They are both more than glad that Ramiel’s last sentence ends the way it does. Leaving the Dale made him queasy and he would most certainly be ill advised to have to abandon it for residency in the Falls. He was sure it was a nice place, likely nicer than most but the Dale was home. His children and dear friends were here and he would be upset to separate from them for any manner of time.
“I would not be quick to agree on a change in living arrangements Sire. However meeting with the current rulers would be paramount, times have changed of late.” His comments are both unsettling as well as amicable in tone. They had seen much during the War, had suffered both physically and mentally from the inevitable- Weir had a lingering limp from the entire fiasco. A small limp but a limp all the same.
I don’t miss the snowy stallion’s inspection of my feet, and if I casually stretch out one forefoot and extended the claws to press firmly into the soil, creating four indents in the loamy earth, it’s surely just coincidence. “It’s nice to meet you,” I reply, nodding my head with a smile to both the stallion and to the tortoise. For all I know, Darwin is a horse as well, currently shifted into a reptile. I have certainly seen stranger things.
When Ramiel speaks again, I meet his gaze with my dark eyes, and smile. “Both have their appeal,” I tell him, knowing that it was the Falls temperate similarity to my birthland that immediately drew me to it. I hear the sound of rustling branches with sharp ears, and turn to see a familiar brown and pink horse emerging from the woods. With an eager smile, I greet Ygritte with a nudge to the shoulder and a gentle tug at her mane, but turn back to Ramiel before the attention that I pay to her borders on disrespectful to my current company. I wait until she’s greeted them both, and Weir has replied, and then respond to the grey king’s concerns.
“Ygritte and I are the new monarchs,” I tell him, gesturing to the salmon pointed mare beside me. “We’ve no intention of requiring anyone to live outside their chosen kingdom to uphold an alliance.” That was something that Texas had abolished – though as far as I know the old man had never actually bothered to let the other kingdoms know of his decision. “Friendly steals and challenges, support in times of need, and perhaps the opportunity for our army to mock with your soldiers. It gets tiring sparring with the same companions every month.” I smile at that, knowing that at times it’s frustrating to have no outlet for excess energy, and also that I’m past due for a challenge of my own to refresh my skills.
Once I’ve spoken, I turn to Ygritte, knowing that she’ll likely have something to add.
Such a simple exercise, this diplomatic meeting, but it is like a balm that soothes some of his worry.
It means so much more because it signals the true end to the conflict. Straia disappearing into the sunset in a swirl of raven feathers had been one conclusion, but this? This is a lasting sign that peace can reign once again. This is two kingdoms working their way down rocky paths and meeting in the middle. This is two different lands finding common ground and defending each other against the cutting sword of violence. This feels right to Ramiel, the way it should be. He wonders if the moment is as momentous to them as it is to him.
But as positive as this interaction is between easy allies, there is one final battle the ghost-king is fighting. Even as he exchanges pleasantries, sincere as they may be, he is still thinking of her. Ea. The fact that the valley of wolves holds her does not sit quietly in his gut or his mind. The other fact – that he cannot retrieve her by lawful means for another two seasons – burns him further. And if there was ever a good time to steal someone (there wasn’t), doing so just as Ea was coming home to rekindle their old spark was certainly not it. When the woman emerges from the forest and claims Kreios by her actions, Ramiel is once again reminded of what he is missing. He smiles at the salmon mare, but for a moment, his mind is elsewhere, claiming Ea for his own.
“Welcome to the Dale, Ygritte. I’m Ramiel.” His metallic eyes note the crown of flowers ringing her poll and he wonders if it is simple aesthetic or if there is a deeper meaning behind the ornament. The spotted behemoth soon answers both his spoken and silent questions and understanding lights his face. Ah, so these are the newest monarchs of the Falls then. My brother’s successors, he thinks, but pushes past the lump that forms in his throat. He is more than due for a visit on the Other Side; the alien waters have roiled too long on shores too clean of his hoofprints. But first he must tie up this meeting.
“Times have definitely changed,” he says, echoing Weir’s sentiment, turning from the red roan to address Kreios and Ygritte. “I’m glad to hear that the role of an alliance has returned to more traditional terms, at least.” Not having a kingdom member leave their chosen home is something they can all agree on. Now that this reigning pair has assuaged his concerns, Ramiel sees no reason not to make it official. “That all sounds more than acceptable. The Dale is honored to consider the Falls its friend and ally.” Having cemented their relationship, the two similar kingdoms can move forward as a team. “Our fighters could use some fine-tuning as well. Let me know when you want to set up mocks and activities between them.”
Ygritte
