Call of the Wild, Part One
I tried write or die, scary stuff! But it worked. :D
This story occurs during Dryad Eyes, by David "Geran" Atkins, but before Broken Hearts, by Amy "Porthos" Hunt, and Wendi "Arimus" Borneman Halstead.
Lodas walked as a swift pace, the early morning and being a bit later than her usual time wasn't the cause. She always felt an eagerness to do her job, and the quickened pace led to it. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought in disbelief yet again at her station. Being a servant meant nothing when you were the servant of Fantine du Vallon Porthos, the one they called the 'One-Eyed-General'. Her heroine, proof that woman rose above their station. Though, in Lodas' world, it would never happen. But so many strong women stood here, defending and fighting. Truth to the stories that had spread across the land for so many years, it had led her to a place that seemed to be pulled out of fairy tales, Keeper's Gateway.
Raised in a small town where the criers told tale of battles fought far off, the dark skinned girl had grown up in an inn with her father. There, the minstrels sang of a King with fire at his mouth, so strong not even a golem of stone could defeat him. A wizard of such keen power his spells cut through a horde of thousands. A woman with hair the color of the most beautiful tree's bark, with gilded strands that shone in the sunlight who commanded the storms in the very fray of battle. Of a sister from far away, once betrothed to the King himself, who spun magic in a way no being could even perceive, who fought with fans so sharp as they cut they made no sound. But it was the General, the woman who rode a massive horse, black as night, and led the battles with a cry so fearsome that even the most seasoned warrior trembled. Who led the King's forces faithfully and without fail. The woman in the mask became the heroine of her tales. So strong and beautiful and deadly, like a steel butterfly.
When she heard a battalion would ride close to her town, she took her father's horse and rode with them, to the most massive structure she'd ever seen. A whole town within walls. And the truth of the stories she heard. It was as if she had slipped into a dream forever.
As she came to the door she slowed her pace, knowing that knocking was not allowed, she set her ear to the door. She did not need a repeat of walking in upon the General and her love, the wizard they sang about. Though he was handsome, his elven features more than striking, she blushed as she recalled the scene before shaking her head. The room was silent, but that did not always mean safe. Slipping the key she wore about her neck into the door as silent as possible, her body contorted slightly as she would never remove it from her neck. Her bottom wiggled slightly as she tried to open the lock silently.
The resounding clack made her flinch, did it really echo behind her? No, no it must be her imagination. Straightening, she dusted her hands after carefully tucking the key safe again in her bosom before pushing the door quietly open. Was it creaking? Her eyes swiftly swept to bed, and she signed with ease. She had not woken her employer, and she was alone. Closing the door silently, and locking it behind her, she slipped her cloak off and looked about the room. She was surprised to find it as clean as it was yesterday, all except the bed.
The bedding was tossed about, one foot and arm dangling over the side of the large bed. The toes were not delicate, but they were a far cry from any humble milk maid's to be sure. The sole was calloused with boot-wear, and the heel was cracked a bit in one spot. Any person would have glanced away from the foot to the hand, if they had been blessed by the scene. A delicate set of digits, nails of slight length but enough to clarify the sex of the creature in the chaos of blankets and sheets.
The goose down comforter, the color of a fine, red wine, was in a jumbled heap shoved in the empty space another body could fill. And the white sheets that covered the body had settled in a way that could make the most drunken man sober, before he even thought to approach the bedded woman. They hugged every delicate curve, a woman still in her prime who never was one to bring home to mother. A women many men knew, feared, followed, loved. But the sheets had also settled enough to clearly display the dagger beneath the sheets. Sunlight was well shining outside, and the room seemed thick with stale air.
Moving to the only window in the small structure the General called home, Lodas pulled the curtains open. Sunlight bathed her smiling, young face. And soon the warm, morning breeze was moving through the room, bringing a happy sigh to her unpainted lips.
"Must you do that every time you come here?" The General's voice grated with agitation, the tone didn't even have the hint of sleepiness. In fact, it was hard edged and icy. Lodas swiftly bowed, hands falling on her knees as she lowered her bonneted head. "Please forgive me, General Porthos. I thought you were still asleep." She kept her squeaking voice soft, shame filled her.
"Easy now, silly girl. I may not want you here but I'm not going to beat you." Lodas was filled with relief as she straightened.
"Shall I fetch you some breakfast, General Porthos?"
The woman sat up, setting the silvered dagger on the bedside as she tossed the sheets of her naked form. She spoke curtly. "I'll get my own food, Lodas. Just be about your work and scuttle back home. And for the love of piss, stop calling me that! Just Porthos is fine."
Lodas gaped a moment before turning away to bustle about with setting the place in order. She hadn't seen the General so exposed before, she had always imagined her body was as exotic as her airs. But instead, there were scars, old wounds from battles fought. It made Lodas feel almost lied to, though her eye beheld an almost intoxicating beauty, and her face was the fairest she'd seen, her body wasn't as men in the inn claimed. She was as same as she, though her breasts were larger, and Lodas could never pray for such deep brown curls as hers, hanging to her waist in delicate waves.
"Would you like me to draw your bath G- um, Porthos?"
"Yes, and don't stutter! Blasted girl, I'll have Rhian hung for this, quickly now! I have business to attend to."
The small house was as immaculate as it was yesterday, and the day before. Her love, Ganatal, had not been to see her for some time. Though there were mornings when she had not been home when Lodas arrived. Perhaps she had gone to see him? Lodas was noticing the General was getting more and more irritated, perhaps they were fighting? Was she sleeping well? Did the mattress need changing? As she moved about her work to prepare the bath in the washroom her head buzzed with ideas.
Fantine slipped into a simple robe, and was soon leaning against the cool wood of the door frame, watching the young woman buzz about, murmuring to herself. She really was going to hang Rhian for insisting he have a house maid. The girl was a hard worker, and took good care of her, but she was not one for house maids. She hated servants, and female servants the most. All the bowing and scraping as if she was some queen, in annoyed her to no end. She would see Rhian hang for this. Perhaps Aorthain instead? She found herself smiling as she thought of tormenting her old friend with a joke about his lover. She wouldn't, of course.
Fantine laughed softly as Lodas startled, realizing she'd been behind her. Fantine prided herself on frightening her, it wasn't hard, always lost in her head.
"The bath is ready, I hope you are pleased."
"Yes good, now take this." Fantine held out a folded note, sealed with a red waxen Fluer de lis, similar to her counterpart's, though that was purple. "I want you to take this to Rhian, and then, I want you to fetch my horse. I want him fed, brushed, and re-shoed. Not yourself, make the stableman do that. And then, I want you to walk him, prepare him for a long ride."
"You're leaving?"
"Lodas, please just do this. And lock the door behind you." Fantine pulled closer, Lodas felt nude, looking up into the single eye of her heroine. It was true she inspired fear. "Lodas, it is important you tell no one about what I have asked you to do, now go. And hurry girl!"
The sudden snap sent Lodas scuttling out the door. Rushing to do as asked. Finding Rhian this early would take her some time, if the two boys she'd grown to adore would even let her in. Laughing softly, she let the robe fall to the floor, and removed the velveted eye patch she wore to bed.
There were no mirrors in her washroom. She could not bear to look at the scarred flesh of her ruined eye. Though it was still there, it was sliced clean through long ago. Her vision having been impaired since then, her mind filled with hateful thoughts as she slipped into the perfectly warmed bath and sunk her sore body into the claw-foot tub with a happy sigh.
After another sleepless night it was more than comforting to feel her body shrouded in the heat of it. It's weight rippling about her and gently calming to a gentle lap at her neck. Like a lover's kiss. But not like his kisses.
Fantine's body trembled for a second, rippling the water as she thought of Ganatal's gentle nips at her neck, his hands at her wrists, pinning her down as his body pressed close to hers. No man had ever pleased her as he, and no man ever could. Only he had the power to peel away her ice-hard exterior, and make her feel like she was flying. The thought of her lover set her heart to pounding, and she felt the soft, answering twinge within her. Desire akin to no other, but she could not seek it, how her body screamed for his, only to be deprived. It was like a growling monster within her mind, clawing and begging for him to make love to her.
She grumbled and set her mind to the task of bathing. Unable to keep the feeling, the images, from her mind. His face so close to hers, his darkened eyes burning with the same fire as hers. His whispered words and his delicious kisses. Perhaps she spent to much time in the hot water...
~***~
Rhian was awake when the soft knock came upon his door. Already dressed for duty, he pulled his notes over an amorous letter he was writing as he rose from his chair, and pulled the door open.
"G.. Goodmorning sir."
"Ah, Lodas! Do come in! How is The General?" He smiled warmly as he held the door for her, making sure to catch her hand before she tripped over the stoop. He adored Lodas, her dedication to her duties was amazing. As his house keeper she was flawless, but he knew she had always hero worshiped his dear friend, and since the activities of late he wanted Lodas near her, since he couldn't be.
"She is.. um." Lodas shuffled her feet, and held out a letter with Fantine's seal. The seal of the red stripe. The delicate symbol pressed in the now hardened wax was perfectly etched. Fantine had sealed it with more than gentle pressure. "She asked me to bring you this. And I need to tend to Rheorix."
"Oh, you cannot stay for a cup of tea?"
"No, sir, I am sorry. I will see you tommorow," she bowed, and rushed out the door that had yet to have been closed.
Leaning out the door, he watched her skirts float about her as she ran off. Smiling to himself, what a strange girl, of course he had never understood women that much. Considering the first woman he loved was a hard assed, no nonsense bitch. How Fantine would laugh if he said that to her. Closing the door, he slipped a delicate finger in the folds of the page and tore the letter open.
His eyes darkened as they passed over the delicate scrawl of the General.
He didn't remember sitting down.
~***~
Fantine glanced at herself in the mirror, she had gotten used to the dresses she'd been wearing, all the frills made her feel quite beautiful. Taking great care as she put on her half mask, she fastened the leather strapping in her hair before she set to styling it about it so it would be unseen. A simple combing, and she let it hang. It had grown long in her service, and she liked it. That it flowed about her like fire in the sun, waves and rivulets about her face.
She checked herself over in the mirror again, making sure everything looked right. Grasping her coat, she slipped in about her shoulders and sighed happily at the feeling of the linen shirt being pressed against her flesh by the heavy leather and velvet. She loved how it heated in the day, even for the season, she felt colder ever day.
The feeling came again as she fastened each brass button of her jacket. Like a desperate urge to open the door and run through the Keep. Out, and away, into the woods and the trees. Away from the penned in boxes the humans and elves lived in here. Away from all the rust and the smell of manure. The collected drunks the place had seemed to amass, the look in his eyes when she told him she was leaving. And the pain of the other when he found her gone. The urge to leave and let those emotions follow her. The call was silent and yet seemed to ring through the room. The howl of a beast who cried with woe, howled for help, begged for mercy.
Clacking her boot heels together, she gave another turn. She was always proud of how she looked, vanity her most severe weakness. Even with the blasted leather mask, even this new one with it's thin lining to keep the sweat at bay. She found it pretty when it had been given to her, the leather worker had crafted an almost identical copy in leather press of her good eye, and the star through it.
Giving herself a nod, she grabbed the small pack, and closed the locked door behind her. Leaving behind an immaculate room she'd straightened herself, damn that Rhian, and a note upon the table. She strode away from the door, the pack heavier than she thought it would be, she worried as she made her way through the Keep.
One stop, and she would soon be away.
~***~
It wasn't a far walk to Geran's home, though the pack she carried on one shoulder seemed to gain weight as she walked, setting her boots to thud erratically. The fatigue was getting to her, but the cry wailed in her mind. She paused a few feet from the familiar door. The glint of the lock her focus, just for a moment, to attempt to clear her mind. Pushing back with all her mental fortitude, her teeth on edge, she folded the sound deep back. Taking the stride forward she knocked as she always had with him, three times and loudly.
"Porthos," The Battle King smiled and greeted his old friend by the name with which he had first become familiar, opening the door almost instantly upon her knock. His shirt, of a deep green fabric, was smudged with dust from the handling of a number of objects that had long been stationary. The exploration of the Keep had become one of his pet projects. "You just caught me. I only came back here, myself, to see if I could catch my future wife before she went out."
"It's good that I caught you, may I?" She waited for no answer, but instead pressed her hand gently against his shoulder, pushing him back into the room. After setting her pack on the ground with a loud thud and a sigh of relief, she closed the door. Without any remark on the friendly welcome, she strode away from him, unbuttoning her jacket with her back to him. "I can't mince words with you, Geran. For a long time I called you friend, I even loved you once," her voice paused, fighting back the emotion she refused to show. The cry still echoing softly from the dark corners behind memories. Her fists clenched at her sides as she struggled to speak more.
"By your words, I am halfway expecting you to turn about and attack me." It was said in humorous tones, but there was a certain measure of tension behind it as well. Expecting the unexpected had kept him and his long-time companions alive through so many adventures, and on that list was certainly included the occassional possesion or induced-madness of a beloved friend. Overshadowing even that, however, was concern. Something was clearly bothering her, and if he could relieve it by any power at his disposal, he would.
His words, unlike any other, held the power to calm even her most blinded rage. But she could taste the tension in the air, and she cast aside the wonder why. Her shoulders moved slightly, and her ornate jacket fell from her shoulders. "I never told you enough Geran, how you saved me from who I was. A black widow, a murderer. You took the darkness within us all, and bound us together for a greater purpose. And now, even with so much still moving forward. I can't continue here." She stood still, afraid to turn, for him to see what she hid. Every fiber of her screamed to rush to him, throw herself in his arms stronger than any she'd known. Pray he wouldn't startle, and just hold her so she could shed the tears that threatened with every breath and each of the heartbeats within her.
Perhaps, on some level, he understood her need to be comforted. Geran had grown up an outcast, on some levels having always been cut off from close ties and relations by a purpose he did not understand. He had been born a unique creature, a child of a wicked prophecy, and that had shaped the opinions of far too many people in his life. Seeing something so lonely, so forlorn, in her stance, in her words, something that made the strong pillar that Porthos had always been shake, he was moved. His big right hand fell upon her left shoulder. "You have done as much good for me, my friend. Now what is this about?"
She had been shaking with tension, and knew she could wait no longer. Her eye downcast in shame, her hands resting on her belly. It was swollen, if only slight, but it was so strikingly obvious that a creature as vain as she wouldn't let her figure slacken in such a way. Her mouth moved, but no sound came. Just a soft sound, that might have been a word. The mask stared angrily, and mutely forward, holding the ferocity of the fearless general. The other, still unable to look up to him, was a striking difference.
"Ah." Geran said simply, both his tone and body language still heavy with compassion. "I think I understand. Does Ganatal know?"
"No, and he won't. Not now, and not like this. I can't face him, not like this. I wish I could explain but," she bit her lip and moved away from him, tucking a stray auburn tendril behind her ear before she stooped to pick up her jacket. Giving it a slight shake before she shrugged it over her shoulders. "I can't ask him to marry me, and I can't do this here. There are something I need to take care of. But this," she gestured towards her belly. "It's not something Ganatal needs to worry himself with right now. Can you imagine? Feeling forced to marry a woman? Where I was born, a father would soon as shoot his daughter's lover than ask of that. But even so, I'm afraid." She crossed her arms with a sigh, shaking her head slightly. "Rhian is my recommendation to take my place, he's more than capable. I'm leaving from here and I've left a letter for Ganatal in my room. All I ask is that you don't let him follow me. He's needed here."
"I can't say that I entirely agree with your choices, Porthos. I think that you should tell him. Speaking as a father who, thrice over, missed his chance to raise his children, I would want to know. But it isn't my place to argue the point with you." With a returning smile, which was still bright, if a bit sad, he inclined his head to her. "I will do as you ask, by both Rhian and Ganatal. All that I ask in return is that you always remember that you are welcome in any home of mine, and that you take care of yourself. And the little one. We may not share the same bonds that Arimus and I do, but I still would like to think that I am becoming an Uncle yet again."
A dry chuckle escaped her lips, a smile that seemed forced took features. "Time has mellowed you too much I think, Geran. Would you ever consider me to leave and stay? I'll come back as soon as I've found out what's calling to me. Something out there needs me. And then I think I may travel a bit." She stooped again, groaning slightly as the heavy pack took to her shoulder again. Her good eye met his, the sparkle and fire was muted. Pack and all she slipped against him, embracing him tightly. Her decadent voice softer than she'd ever spoken to him. "Have you ever known me not to return to my family? And you know I'll make a show of it. Ganatal will know, I've left him word. Just promise me you'll keep him safe while I'm away." She could no longer fight back the tears that tormented her. Buried her face into his shoulder she began fighting the cry again. It shook her to the core, the need, the pain. It tore through her and edged her adrenaline again, rejuvenating her and scaring her at the same time.
"Of course. To the best of my ability." Geran did not speak further in reply. Indeed, what else could he say? He was satisfied by what she had to say. His answer came instead by returning her embrace, and by stroking her hair and back as she cried into him. For just a moment, he recalled one of those rare occassions in his early life when he had not felt outcast and alone, when his mother had comforted him in exactly the same manner. The reason behind why he had been so upset was lost with age, but the feelings of acceptance and family remained.
She leaned into him and cried softly. Penning the pleading cry back, wishing she could reach to it and assure her impending arrival. She felt like she was lying, that she wouldn't come back. She didn't know if this pull was a trap or not, but she felt more than compelled. The child within her shared the cry, and she could not bear the agony of losing her first child. She did not notice the time pass, but was soon breathing evenly. Pulling back slightly, she kissed Geran on the cheek, his bristled beard tickling her chin. She slipped slowly from him, and smiled softly and genuinely.
"Trust me, I'll be home before you know it. And if you have to lock him in the dungeons, don't let that fool wizard come after me. He'll know soon enough, I've left him a letter in my rooms, he has the only key aside from.." She paused. "Can you do me another favor?"
"I may consider it," he teased, which was all the affirmation that anyone who truly knew him would need. Of course he would. If the answer was no, then it would have been no.
"Rhian hired me a house servant, her name is Lodas. Pitiful thing, clumsy and full of stutter. She's meant for greater things. I'd like to see her trained under my colors. She'd do well in the ranks, and I think it would upset Rhian to no end to lose his little maid. But it would certainly do me a world of good to be able to sleep in when I return." Perfect! She smirked playfully at Geran as she suddenly realized she could give Rhian his just desserts and Lodas what she desired more than anything in one fell swoop. "If anything, I want to her to be offered the training, she's looked up to me for who knows how long. And by hell am I going to listen to her excited twitters of what she's heard about us. You should ask her, I think. There are stories about us you wouldn't bloody believe!"
"I've heard a few tales. If heroes such as the ones we are said to be existed, there would be no need for us." Geran shook his head, and his laughter was genuine. "Consider it done. I will speak with her, and with Rhian, later today. If you say the girl is meant for greater things, it must be so."
She smiled at him warmly, and waved. " Thank you, and be safe Geran, and remember I'll return with a little one in tow. And you will be an Uncle again." She slipped out the door, closing it gently behind her without allowing him a further word.
~***~
"Oh please!" Fantine was beggining to fear having a daughter, and prayed for a son as she listened to Lodas beg to join her.
She watched the young woman clasp her hands and bounce on her toes, she'd even taken the time to saddle a horse for herself. Good, she'd need one. "No, Lodas, you are needed here. Besides, what would Rhian and Aorthain do without you?" She patted the downcast girl on the head. "Come now, Lodas, I'll be back. And don't you think you're stuck where you are. Hells against us, we fight back, right."
Lodas nodded numbly, she wanted to hug the woman but she knew it would be inappropriate. Still, she squeaked with surprise as Fantine pulled the ribbon of her bonnet from beneath her chin and pulled it away, ruffling her black hair, done up in a tight bun. And the woman lifted the girls chin to look down on her with a kind smile.
"Stop wearing that bonnet, and if you must wear your hair up, let it down sometime. You'll get wrinkles before your time. We can't have that pretty face all wrinkled can we?" She laughed loud as Lodas squealed and covered her blushing face.
Fastening her pack to Rheorix, she saddled up, forced to undo her jacket, she leaned forward enough for her growing belly to remain unseen. "Take care, Lodas. And enjoy the Keep."
Spurring Rheorix ahead, she turned her back on the keep. She let the call fill her mind. Only the touch of Rheorix in her mind it's company. Take me to it Rheorix, follow the cry. Her stalwart, loyal steed leaned into the wind and his hooves tore into the grassy earth, together they would find this agony and stop it.
~***~
This story occurs during Dryad Eyes, by David "Geran" Atkins, but before Broken Hearts, by Amy "Porthos" Hunt, and Wendi "Arimus" Borneman Halstead.
Lodas walked as a swift pace, the early morning and being a bit later than her usual time wasn't the cause. She always felt an eagerness to do her job, and the quickened pace led to it. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought in disbelief yet again at her station. Being a servant meant nothing when you were the servant of Fantine du Vallon Porthos, the one they called the 'One-Eyed-General'. Her heroine, proof that woman rose above their station. Though, in Lodas' world, it would never happen. But so many strong women stood here, defending and fighting. Truth to the stories that had spread across the land for so many years, it had led her to a place that seemed to be pulled out of fairy tales, Keeper's Gateway.
Raised in a small town where the criers told tale of battles fought far off, the dark skinned girl had grown up in an inn with her father. There, the minstrels sang of a King with fire at his mouth, so strong not even a golem of stone could defeat him. A wizard of such keen power his spells cut through a horde of thousands. A woman with hair the color of the most beautiful tree's bark, with gilded strands that shone in the sunlight who commanded the storms in the very fray of battle. Of a sister from far away, once betrothed to the King himself, who spun magic in a way no being could even perceive, who fought with fans so sharp as they cut they made no sound. But it was the General, the woman who rode a massive horse, black as night, and led the battles with a cry so fearsome that even the most seasoned warrior trembled. Who led the King's forces faithfully and without fail. The woman in the mask became the heroine of her tales. So strong and beautiful and deadly, like a steel butterfly.
When she heard a battalion would ride close to her town, she took her father's horse and rode with them, to the most massive structure she'd ever seen. A whole town within walls. And the truth of the stories she heard. It was as if she had slipped into a dream forever.
As she came to the door she slowed her pace, knowing that knocking was not allowed, she set her ear to the door. She did not need a repeat of walking in upon the General and her love, the wizard they sang about. Though he was handsome, his elven features more than striking, she blushed as she recalled the scene before shaking her head. The room was silent, but that did not always mean safe. Slipping the key she wore about her neck into the door as silent as possible, her body contorted slightly as she would never remove it from her neck. Her bottom wiggled slightly as she tried to open the lock silently.
The resounding clack made her flinch, did it really echo behind her? No, no it must be her imagination. Straightening, she dusted her hands after carefully tucking the key safe again in her bosom before pushing the door quietly open. Was it creaking? Her eyes swiftly swept to bed, and she signed with ease. She had not woken her employer, and she was alone. Closing the door silently, and locking it behind her, she slipped her cloak off and looked about the room. She was surprised to find it as clean as it was yesterday, all except the bed.
The bedding was tossed about, one foot and arm dangling over the side of the large bed. The toes were not delicate, but they were a far cry from any humble milk maid's to be sure. The sole was calloused with boot-wear, and the heel was cracked a bit in one spot. Any person would have glanced away from the foot to the hand, if they had been blessed by the scene. A delicate set of digits, nails of slight length but enough to clarify the sex of the creature in the chaos of blankets and sheets.
The goose down comforter, the color of a fine, red wine, was in a jumbled heap shoved in the empty space another body could fill. And the white sheets that covered the body had settled in a way that could make the most drunken man sober, before he even thought to approach the bedded woman. They hugged every delicate curve, a woman still in her prime who never was one to bring home to mother. A women many men knew, feared, followed, loved. But the sheets had also settled enough to clearly display the dagger beneath the sheets. Sunlight was well shining outside, and the room seemed thick with stale air.
Moving to the only window in the small structure the General called home, Lodas pulled the curtains open. Sunlight bathed her smiling, young face. And soon the warm, morning breeze was moving through the room, bringing a happy sigh to her unpainted lips.
"Must you do that every time you come here?" The General's voice grated with agitation, the tone didn't even have the hint of sleepiness. In fact, it was hard edged and icy. Lodas swiftly bowed, hands falling on her knees as she lowered her bonneted head. "Please forgive me, General Porthos. I thought you were still asleep." She kept her squeaking voice soft, shame filled her.
"Easy now, silly girl. I may not want you here but I'm not going to beat you." Lodas was filled with relief as she straightened.
"Shall I fetch you some breakfast, General Porthos?"
The woman sat up, setting the silvered dagger on the bedside as she tossed the sheets of her naked form. She spoke curtly. "I'll get my own food, Lodas. Just be about your work and scuttle back home. And for the love of piss, stop calling me that! Just Porthos is fine."
Lodas gaped a moment before turning away to bustle about with setting the place in order. She hadn't seen the General so exposed before, she had always imagined her body was as exotic as her airs. But instead, there were scars, old wounds from battles fought. It made Lodas feel almost lied to, though her eye beheld an almost intoxicating beauty, and her face was the fairest she'd seen, her body wasn't as men in the inn claimed. She was as same as she, though her breasts were larger, and Lodas could never pray for such deep brown curls as hers, hanging to her waist in delicate waves.
"Would you like me to draw your bath G- um, Porthos?"
"Yes, and don't stutter! Blasted girl, I'll have Rhian hung for this, quickly now! I have business to attend to."
The small house was as immaculate as it was yesterday, and the day before. Her love, Ganatal, had not been to see her for some time. Though there were mornings when she had not been home when Lodas arrived. Perhaps she had gone to see him? Lodas was noticing the General was getting more and more irritated, perhaps they were fighting? Was she sleeping well? Did the mattress need changing? As she moved about her work to prepare the bath in the washroom her head buzzed with ideas.
Fantine slipped into a simple robe, and was soon leaning against the cool wood of the door frame, watching the young woman buzz about, murmuring to herself. She really was going to hang Rhian for insisting he have a house maid. The girl was a hard worker, and took good care of her, but she was not one for house maids. She hated servants, and female servants the most. All the bowing and scraping as if she was some queen, in annoyed her to no end. She would see Rhian hang for this. Perhaps Aorthain instead? She found herself smiling as she thought of tormenting her old friend with a joke about his lover. She wouldn't, of course.
Fantine laughed softly as Lodas startled, realizing she'd been behind her. Fantine prided herself on frightening her, it wasn't hard, always lost in her head.
"The bath is ready, I hope you are pleased."
"Yes good, now take this." Fantine held out a folded note, sealed with a red waxen Fluer de lis, similar to her counterpart's, though that was purple. "I want you to take this to Rhian, and then, I want you to fetch my horse. I want him fed, brushed, and re-shoed. Not yourself, make the stableman do that. And then, I want you to walk him, prepare him for a long ride."
"You're leaving?"
"Lodas, please just do this. And lock the door behind you." Fantine pulled closer, Lodas felt nude, looking up into the single eye of her heroine. It was true she inspired fear. "Lodas, it is important you tell no one about what I have asked you to do, now go. And hurry girl!"
The sudden snap sent Lodas scuttling out the door. Rushing to do as asked. Finding Rhian this early would take her some time, if the two boys she'd grown to adore would even let her in. Laughing softly, she let the robe fall to the floor, and removed the velveted eye patch she wore to bed.
There were no mirrors in her washroom. She could not bear to look at the scarred flesh of her ruined eye. Though it was still there, it was sliced clean through long ago. Her vision having been impaired since then, her mind filled with hateful thoughts as she slipped into the perfectly warmed bath and sunk her sore body into the claw-foot tub with a happy sigh.
After another sleepless night it was more than comforting to feel her body shrouded in the heat of it. It's weight rippling about her and gently calming to a gentle lap at her neck. Like a lover's kiss. But not like his kisses.
Fantine's body trembled for a second, rippling the water as she thought of Ganatal's gentle nips at her neck, his hands at her wrists, pinning her down as his body pressed close to hers. No man had ever pleased her as he, and no man ever could. Only he had the power to peel away her ice-hard exterior, and make her feel like she was flying. The thought of her lover set her heart to pounding, and she felt the soft, answering twinge within her. Desire akin to no other, but she could not seek it, how her body screamed for his, only to be deprived. It was like a growling monster within her mind, clawing and begging for him to make love to her.
She grumbled and set her mind to the task of bathing. Unable to keep the feeling, the images, from her mind. His face so close to hers, his darkened eyes burning with the same fire as hers. His whispered words and his delicious kisses. Perhaps she spent to much time in the hot water...
~***~
Rhian was awake when the soft knock came upon his door. Already dressed for duty, he pulled his notes over an amorous letter he was writing as he rose from his chair, and pulled the door open.
"G.. Goodmorning sir."
"Ah, Lodas! Do come in! How is The General?" He smiled warmly as he held the door for her, making sure to catch her hand before she tripped over the stoop. He adored Lodas, her dedication to her duties was amazing. As his house keeper she was flawless, but he knew she had always hero worshiped his dear friend, and since the activities of late he wanted Lodas near her, since he couldn't be.
"She is.. um." Lodas shuffled her feet, and held out a letter with Fantine's seal. The seal of the red stripe. The delicate symbol pressed in the now hardened wax was perfectly etched. Fantine had sealed it with more than gentle pressure. "She asked me to bring you this. And I need to tend to Rheorix."
"Oh, you cannot stay for a cup of tea?"
"No, sir, I am sorry. I will see you tommorow," she bowed, and rushed out the door that had yet to have been closed.
Leaning out the door, he watched her skirts float about her as she ran off. Smiling to himself, what a strange girl, of course he had never understood women that much. Considering the first woman he loved was a hard assed, no nonsense bitch. How Fantine would laugh if he said that to her. Closing the door, he slipped a delicate finger in the folds of the page and tore the letter open.
His eyes darkened as they passed over the delicate scrawl of the General.
He didn't remember sitting down.
~***~
Fantine glanced at herself in the mirror, she had gotten used to the dresses she'd been wearing, all the frills made her feel quite beautiful. Taking great care as she put on her half mask, she fastened the leather strapping in her hair before she set to styling it about it so it would be unseen. A simple combing, and she let it hang. It had grown long in her service, and she liked it. That it flowed about her like fire in the sun, waves and rivulets about her face.
She checked herself over in the mirror again, making sure everything looked right. Grasping her coat, she slipped in about her shoulders and sighed happily at the feeling of the linen shirt being pressed against her flesh by the heavy leather and velvet. She loved how it heated in the day, even for the season, she felt colder ever day.
The feeling came again as she fastened each brass button of her jacket. Like a desperate urge to open the door and run through the Keep. Out, and away, into the woods and the trees. Away from the penned in boxes the humans and elves lived in here. Away from all the rust and the smell of manure. The collected drunks the place had seemed to amass, the look in his eyes when she told him she was leaving. And the pain of the other when he found her gone. The urge to leave and let those emotions follow her. The call was silent and yet seemed to ring through the room. The howl of a beast who cried with woe, howled for help, begged for mercy.
Clacking her boot heels together, she gave another turn. She was always proud of how she looked, vanity her most severe weakness. Even with the blasted leather mask, even this new one with it's thin lining to keep the sweat at bay. She found it pretty when it had been given to her, the leather worker had crafted an almost identical copy in leather press of her good eye, and the star through it.
Giving herself a nod, she grabbed the small pack, and closed the locked door behind her. Leaving behind an immaculate room she'd straightened herself, damn that Rhian, and a note upon the table. She strode away from the door, the pack heavier than she thought it would be, she worried as she made her way through the Keep.
One stop, and she would soon be away.
~***~
It wasn't a far walk to Geran's home, though the pack she carried on one shoulder seemed to gain weight as she walked, setting her boots to thud erratically. The fatigue was getting to her, but the cry wailed in her mind. She paused a few feet from the familiar door. The glint of the lock her focus, just for a moment, to attempt to clear her mind. Pushing back with all her mental fortitude, her teeth on edge, she folded the sound deep back. Taking the stride forward she knocked as she always had with him, three times and loudly.
"Porthos," The Battle King smiled and greeted his old friend by the name with which he had first become familiar, opening the door almost instantly upon her knock. His shirt, of a deep green fabric, was smudged with dust from the handling of a number of objects that had long been stationary. The exploration of the Keep had become one of his pet projects. "You just caught me. I only came back here, myself, to see if I could catch my future wife before she went out."
"It's good that I caught you, may I?" She waited for no answer, but instead pressed her hand gently against his shoulder, pushing him back into the room. After setting her pack on the ground with a loud thud and a sigh of relief, she closed the door. Without any remark on the friendly welcome, she strode away from him, unbuttoning her jacket with her back to him. "I can't mince words with you, Geran. For a long time I called you friend, I even loved you once," her voice paused, fighting back the emotion she refused to show. The cry still echoing softly from the dark corners behind memories. Her fists clenched at her sides as she struggled to speak more.
"By your words, I am halfway expecting you to turn about and attack me." It was said in humorous tones, but there was a certain measure of tension behind it as well. Expecting the unexpected had kept him and his long-time companions alive through so many adventures, and on that list was certainly included the occassional possesion or induced-madness of a beloved friend. Overshadowing even that, however, was concern. Something was clearly bothering her, and if he could relieve it by any power at his disposal, he would.
His words, unlike any other, held the power to calm even her most blinded rage. But she could taste the tension in the air, and she cast aside the wonder why. Her shoulders moved slightly, and her ornate jacket fell from her shoulders. "I never told you enough Geran, how you saved me from who I was. A black widow, a murderer. You took the darkness within us all, and bound us together for a greater purpose. And now, even with so much still moving forward. I can't continue here." She stood still, afraid to turn, for him to see what she hid. Every fiber of her screamed to rush to him, throw herself in his arms stronger than any she'd known. Pray he wouldn't startle, and just hold her so she could shed the tears that threatened with every breath and each of the heartbeats within her.
Perhaps, on some level, he understood her need to be comforted. Geran had grown up an outcast, on some levels having always been cut off from close ties and relations by a purpose he did not understand. He had been born a unique creature, a child of a wicked prophecy, and that had shaped the opinions of far too many people in his life. Seeing something so lonely, so forlorn, in her stance, in her words, something that made the strong pillar that Porthos had always been shake, he was moved. His big right hand fell upon her left shoulder. "You have done as much good for me, my friend. Now what is this about?"
She had been shaking with tension, and knew she could wait no longer. Her eye downcast in shame, her hands resting on her belly. It was swollen, if only slight, but it was so strikingly obvious that a creature as vain as she wouldn't let her figure slacken in such a way. Her mouth moved, but no sound came. Just a soft sound, that might have been a word. The mask stared angrily, and mutely forward, holding the ferocity of the fearless general. The other, still unable to look up to him, was a striking difference.
"Ah." Geran said simply, both his tone and body language still heavy with compassion. "I think I understand. Does Ganatal know?"
"No, and he won't. Not now, and not like this. I can't face him, not like this. I wish I could explain but," she bit her lip and moved away from him, tucking a stray auburn tendril behind her ear before she stooped to pick up her jacket. Giving it a slight shake before she shrugged it over her shoulders. "I can't ask him to marry me, and I can't do this here. There are something I need to take care of. But this," she gestured towards her belly. "It's not something Ganatal needs to worry himself with right now. Can you imagine? Feeling forced to marry a woman? Where I was born, a father would soon as shoot his daughter's lover than ask of that. But even so, I'm afraid." She crossed her arms with a sigh, shaking her head slightly. "Rhian is my recommendation to take my place, he's more than capable. I'm leaving from here and I've left a letter for Ganatal in my room. All I ask is that you don't let him follow me. He's needed here."
"I can't say that I entirely agree with your choices, Porthos. I think that you should tell him. Speaking as a father who, thrice over, missed his chance to raise his children, I would want to know. But it isn't my place to argue the point with you." With a returning smile, which was still bright, if a bit sad, he inclined his head to her. "I will do as you ask, by both Rhian and Ganatal. All that I ask in return is that you always remember that you are welcome in any home of mine, and that you take care of yourself. And the little one. We may not share the same bonds that Arimus and I do, but I still would like to think that I am becoming an Uncle yet again."
A dry chuckle escaped her lips, a smile that seemed forced took features. "Time has mellowed you too much I think, Geran. Would you ever consider me to leave and stay? I'll come back as soon as I've found out what's calling to me. Something out there needs me. And then I think I may travel a bit." She stooped again, groaning slightly as the heavy pack took to her shoulder again. Her good eye met his, the sparkle and fire was muted. Pack and all she slipped against him, embracing him tightly. Her decadent voice softer than she'd ever spoken to him. "Have you ever known me not to return to my family? And you know I'll make a show of it. Ganatal will know, I've left him word. Just promise me you'll keep him safe while I'm away." She could no longer fight back the tears that tormented her. Buried her face into his shoulder she began fighting the cry again. It shook her to the core, the need, the pain. It tore through her and edged her adrenaline again, rejuvenating her and scaring her at the same time.
"Of course. To the best of my ability." Geran did not speak further in reply. Indeed, what else could he say? He was satisfied by what she had to say. His answer came instead by returning her embrace, and by stroking her hair and back as she cried into him. For just a moment, he recalled one of those rare occassions in his early life when he had not felt outcast and alone, when his mother had comforted him in exactly the same manner. The reason behind why he had been so upset was lost with age, but the feelings of acceptance and family remained.
She leaned into him and cried softly. Penning the pleading cry back, wishing she could reach to it and assure her impending arrival. She felt like she was lying, that she wouldn't come back. She didn't know if this pull was a trap or not, but she felt more than compelled. The child within her shared the cry, and she could not bear the agony of losing her first child. She did not notice the time pass, but was soon breathing evenly. Pulling back slightly, she kissed Geran on the cheek, his bristled beard tickling her chin. She slipped slowly from him, and smiled softly and genuinely.
"Trust me, I'll be home before you know it. And if you have to lock him in the dungeons, don't let that fool wizard come after me. He'll know soon enough, I've left him a letter in my rooms, he has the only key aside from.." She paused. "Can you do me another favor?"
"I may consider it," he teased, which was all the affirmation that anyone who truly knew him would need. Of course he would. If the answer was no, then it would have been no.
"Rhian hired me a house servant, her name is Lodas. Pitiful thing, clumsy and full of stutter. She's meant for greater things. I'd like to see her trained under my colors. She'd do well in the ranks, and I think it would upset Rhian to no end to lose his little maid. But it would certainly do me a world of good to be able to sleep in when I return." Perfect! She smirked playfully at Geran as she suddenly realized she could give Rhian his just desserts and Lodas what she desired more than anything in one fell swoop. "If anything, I want to her to be offered the training, she's looked up to me for who knows how long. And by hell am I going to listen to her excited twitters of what she's heard about us. You should ask her, I think. There are stories about us you wouldn't bloody believe!"
"I've heard a few tales. If heroes such as the ones we are said to be existed, there would be no need for us." Geran shook his head, and his laughter was genuine. "Consider it done. I will speak with her, and with Rhian, later today. If you say the girl is meant for greater things, it must be so."
She smiled at him warmly, and waved. " Thank you, and be safe Geran, and remember I'll return with a little one in tow. And you will be an Uncle again." She slipped out the door, closing it gently behind her without allowing him a further word.
~***~
"Oh please!" Fantine was beggining to fear having a daughter, and prayed for a son as she listened to Lodas beg to join her.
She watched the young woman clasp her hands and bounce on her toes, she'd even taken the time to saddle a horse for herself. Good, she'd need one. "No, Lodas, you are needed here. Besides, what would Rhian and Aorthain do without you?" She patted the downcast girl on the head. "Come now, Lodas, I'll be back. And don't you think you're stuck where you are. Hells against us, we fight back, right."
Lodas nodded numbly, she wanted to hug the woman but she knew it would be inappropriate. Still, she squeaked with surprise as Fantine pulled the ribbon of her bonnet from beneath her chin and pulled it away, ruffling her black hair, done up in a tight bun. And the woman lifted the girls chin to look down on her with a kind smile.
"Stop wearing that bonnet, and if you must wear your hair up, let it down sometime. You'll get wrinkles before your time. We can't have that pretty face all wrinkled can we?" She laughed loud as Lodas squealed and covered her blushing face.
Fastening her pack to Rheorix, she saddled up, forced to undo her jacket, she leaned forward enough for her growing belly to remain unseen. "Take care, Lodas. And enjoy the Keep."
Spurring Rheorix ahead, she turned her back on the keep. She let the call fill her mind. Only the touch of Rheorix in her mind it's company. Take me to it Rheorix, follow the cry. Her stalwart, loyal steed leaned into the wind and his hooves tore into the grassy earth, together they would find this agony and stop it.
~***~