Chapter Text
N O T E S
Days:
Plesdag – First day of the week
Gnulsdag – Second day of the week
Jorkdag – Third day of the week
Knadag – Fourth day of the week
Stydag – Fifth day of the week
Lemdag – Sixth day of the week
Dardag – Last day of the week
Months:
Enmoon – First month of the year
Tomoon – Second month of the year
Tremoon – Third month of the year
Firmoon – Fourth month of the year
Femoon – Fifth month of the year
Sekmoon – Sixth month of the year
Symoon – Seventh month of the year
Otemoon – Eighth month of the year
Nimoon – Ninth month of the year
Temoon – Tenth month of the year
Ellmoon – Eleventh month of the year
Tolmoon – Last month of the year
P A R T O N E
P R O L O G U E
Gulls circled the afternoon sky, a perfect, cloudless blue canvas against the scorching golden sun. It was almost too hot to move in the blinding light of midsummer. The scene at Akrowyth Harbour got busier every time he witnessed it. But there was no place like home, he supposed.
A disorientating haze. The City of Akrowyth, the capital of Raenythör, was always busy, always teeming with carriages, horses, throngs of people, commoners and nobilities alike rubbing shoulders. Akrowyth, home to the tallest of buildings, smoothest of roads, hottest of days, drunkest of evenings, grandest of brothels, and fiercest of women and men in all of Raenythör. But most of all, across the seven seas and the nine realms, Raenythör held arrant order. Order which wasn’t won by peace. Quite the contrary. Like any peace, it was also won by wars and bloodsheds.
The smell of roasting sand, broiling grit swirled with the heat in the muggy air, which pressed in on him as he disembarked the ship. First thing he decided he’d be doing when he reached the Akrowyth Palace was getting out of this godforsaken uniform that now smelled of sweat, salt of the sea, cheap ale, and nothing else good, and soak in a long, cold bath. He deserved that much, at least, after spending more than two months away in the dismal Land of Corora. That was many days of sleeping on cold, damp loam and drinking animal piss when his waterskin was drained.
“Lord Vanguard,” the Captain of the Queen’s Guard bade with a nod of his head.
“Captain,” Rune replied dully, stomped past the younger man.
“The Queen awaits your arrival, My Lord.”
It always sounded like a melodious hymn to his ears whenever he heard that his Queen awaited him.
“What has spawned in my absence, Zelos?” Rune inquired offhandedly as he started towards the horses.
The Captain regarded Rune with a stale expression and said, “Not much.”
“Is this due to uneventful hours of the day or your reliable competence, Captain?” There was perceptible derision in Rune’s tone.
Zelos did not answer that question. He knew better. Good for him. He had learned his lessons. Zelos was steadfast and young, albeit ineffectual and unfit for his position as the Captain of the Queen’s Guard. He was the Queen’s nephew, whose parents had perished in an incursion by mercenaries while they were departing for Hadräze. The Queen, as merciful and affectionate as she was, had been caring for Zelos ever since.
Rune shared no such sentiments. He was related to no one. He was dutiful to no one but the royal family.
A few resting and imbibing seafarers by the stacked barrels bowed when they noticed him striding by.
“Lord Vanguard,” they addressed him in unison, all holding out tankards of mead. Rune accepted one of them and quenched his thirst for alcohol.
“My thanks, fellow friends,” Rune thanked the men and proceeded to the horses.
“How did your assignment fare in Corora?” Captain Zelos asked, as though to make conversation.
Rune looked at him. “It was obviously not one of your religious vocations, where you’d bend for some priests and believe in things that do not exist and force others to believe in them, too.” He noticed how Zelos’ face crumpled. Unlike most of Akrowyth, Rune was not a religious man. “Hunting Cororian insurgents, driving my blade through their heads. It was real fun.”
“We have very conflicting definitions of ‘fun’, Lord Vanguard,” Zelos said, smiling.
“Don’t I know that,” Rune scoffed.
As they reached their horses, Rune greeted his black beast with a stroke in its mane. Prymos nudged his nose into Rune’s hand and huffed excitedly.
“Missed me, have you?” he said to the horse and clapped one hand to the saddle, gripping the rein with the other.
“You say we believe in things that do not exist,” Zelos said as they mounted their steeds. Rune gazed ahead at the roads and the city. “You believe in Hergroc.”
It halted Rune in his pace. He glanced over to Zelos with an arched eyebrow. “I do,” he said blatantly. “because I have… seen Him. I have not seen these Gods you kneel before with froth in your mouth.”
“Just because you haven’t seen the Gods, it doesn’t mean they do not exist. If there’s a Diminisher, then there must be a Maker.”
Rune snorted. “I will believe it when I see it, then.”
With that, they started for the palace.
They rode through the streets in no haste, although Rune wanted nothing more than to make haste for his well-deserved rest. And more importantly, to meet his Queen again.
Pedlars and traders squawked on every corner. Children skipped about with wooden swords and ragdolls. Neither were hindered by the scalding sun. Amidst tan, burned skins, Rune detected an ashen, pasty, decaying skin.
He slowed his horse. Prymos pranced for a moment, as though he were spooked. Rune calmed him by rubbing his neck. He then looked over to the naked, grey-skinned man, standing amid an oblivious crowd that paid the dead man no heed. His white eyes met Rune’s blue ones.
Jaw squared, Rune tightened his fists around the reins of his horse.
“Lord Vanguard?” Zelos diverted him, noticing that Rune had stopped. “Is everything all right.”
“Yes,” Rune quickly said and proceeded after the Captain. The pair of blank, white eyes followed him. Despairingly.
* * *
“Lord Vanguard,” Vulred rasped when Rune passed the bailey’s garden. “You have returned. I was not informed of your return today.”
The wrinkles on the old scholar’s forehead tautened in surprise. “Good afternoon, Counsel Vulred,” Rune said, bowing his head. He might be the commanding officer of the Queen’s army, he still held a rank below the Queen’s advisor.
“The Queen must be delighted with your return,” the aged man said with a faint smile. “But you look like you have rolled in mud and bedded filthy hogs for days.”
Rune rifled his fingers through his overgrown beard and sighed. “I did fuck a bear on the fifteenth day.”
Vulred grimaced. “And how was she?”
“All fangs and fur,” Rune said unenthusiastically. “I ought to clean myself up before presenting myself before the Queen, then.”
“She might not have the patience for that.” Vulred shuddered into his grey robe and ushered Rune to take a walk with him. “But you have come home in good timing.”
Rune cocked an eyebrow, clasping his hands together at his back. His gaze momentarily landed on the servant boy, who ambled past him, bearing a silver tray. The charming boy’s youthful eyes lifted to Rune and glimmered. He then bashfully lowered them. Rune leered at the lad’s hollow collarbones and smooth brown skin for a moment before turning his attention back to Vulred.
“In good timing for what?” he asked the Counsel.
“The Young Prince just returned to Akrowyth a fortnight ago.”
For a length, Rune could only stare at the older man. When he had found his voice again, he said, “Has he already completed his mastership at the College of Nabooru?”
“Yes… The Queen is holding a dance to celebrate his return in four days.”
Zelos joined them shortly after when they sauntered into a corridor. “Lord Vanguard, Her Grace is waiting for you in her belvedere,” he informed Rune.
“I shall go see Her Grace right away, then,” he told Vulred and bowed. Once he had turned away from the Queen’s Counsel, he scowled at Zelos. “Did you forget to mention the Young Prince’s return, or did you deliberately choose to disregard it?”
Zelos followed him on his way to the Queen’s Belvedere. “It had slipped my mind, My Lord. I beg for your pardon.”
Rune shook his head. “Who’s assigned to guard him?”
“A fraction of the Crown Prince’s Guard,” Zelos answered.
“Upon whose orders?”
Zelos hesitated when Rune had come to a standstill. “Uh… Mine, My Lord. Her Grace ordered me to—”
“Ordered you to donate half of the Crown Prince’s Guard and leave His Highness guarded half-assed?” Rune snapped. “Did you not think before sacrificing a portion of Raenythör’s future King’s defence line?!”
Zelos lowered his gaze.
“You will recruit some new guards,” Rune then ordered. “I will screen them myself, and I will handpick the Young Prince’s Guard, understood?”
“Yes, My Lord,” the Captain said.
“Now, get to work.”
Zelos turned away and took his leave without another word.
Sucking in a few deep breaths, Rune tugged at the collar of his black uniform and headed for the belvedere, hand resting on the hilt of his scimitar.
The sweet fragrance of flowers, almost sickly, wafted in the air as he neared the Queen’s Belvedere. It reminded Rune of the Queen’s gentle smile and nonpareil gracefulness. Like the formidable flowers that grew in the heat of Akrowyth, the Queen was just as fierce, nonetheless beautiful. Irresistible. Kings far beyond the seven seas sought her hand in marriage. Richest of men made her promises no ordinary man could. Yet, she chose to remain true to the memories of her late husband, King Vaalthor.
Vaalthor had not deserved her. He was a lazy, ham-fisted Prince from the Kingdom of Seasworth, who had squandered all of his time drinking, hunting, entertaining his court, and on the lap of courtesans. He didn’t change much after the previous King Raiganiel married his only daughter to him and made him the King of Raenythör.
The belvedere was possibly the quietest place in all of Akrowyth. In an atmosphere of serenity and tranquillity, his Queen stood, tall and proud, her long, black hair cascading against her back.
“It’s good to have you back,” she said before Rune had even had the chance of making his presence known. She turned around and faced Rune with a weary but warm smile.
“Feels good to be back, Your Grace,” Rune replied in a stern voice with a curt bow of his head.
The Queen returned her gaze to the city that lay beneath and before her. She was quiet for a stretch.
“I hear Prince Sehun has come home,” Rune remarked, taking her side. He studied her side profile. It almost hurt. The rawness in her beauty.
She sighed. “He has grown a lot. When was the last time you saw him?”
“Some ten years ago, I reckon,” Rune replied. “You… do not seem pleased enough to have your youngest child back home, Your Grace.”
The Queen smiled at Rune, then. “I am displeased,” she admitted.
“With your youngest son’s return?”
“No,” she said. “Well, perhaps. You’ll find out why when you meet him.”
Rune laughed despite himself. “I am not looking forward to that encounter, Your Grace.”
She snickered. The laughter quickly died and was replaced by a moue. She covered a hand over the Amulet of Idaemïr around her neck. The ruby in it flickered lightly every time she touched it. “Something doesn’t feel right,” she muttered, frowning.
Rune took a step closer to her. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “For the past two weeks, I’ve felt like… I could not breathe. It feels as though… something unfortunate comes our way.”
Rune took hold of her hand. The Queen froze, her brown eyes boring into Rune’s. “I will always protect you, Alastríona,” he promised in a whisper, his callused fingers tightening around her slender digits. He then quickly released them, licking his lips.
She smiled. “I know you will, Rune.” She turned around and looked at the city again. “But you must protect Garan and Sehun before me.”
“My Queen—”
“You must be tired,” she cut him off without facing him. “You shall have your rest now. And thank you for handling the Corora matter very skilfully. Your success did not come to me as a surprise.”
Rune had no heart to leave her side. But he knew better than to disobey his Queen’s orders. He bowed once and walked away.
When he arrived in his quarters, chambermaids were already making his bed and drawing him his bath. Rune removed his clothes and boots before stepping into the bathing chamber.
After a long, cooling bath, he stood before the mirror and trimmed his beard. His hair now stood slightly above his shoulders. He tied it in half and stepped out into the bedchamber, where he found a busty blonde chambermaid pouring him a cup of wine from the ewer and the pretty servant boy from earlier.
“Are you new?” Rune asked the servant lad, who jumped with a start as he spun around to confront Rune.
“L-Lord… Vanguard,” the boy stuttered, bowing. His eyes ventured down Rune’s unclothed and undried body. “Yes, Milord.”
The chambermaid brought Rune a set of nightshirt and pants. “Your bed’s been made, Milord,” she said without meeting Rune’s eyes.
Rune smirked at her. “I just need someone to keep it warm for me now.”
The servant boy’s eyes widened, though in a cheeky way.
The chambermaid, on the other hand, smiled and brought a hand to Rune’s chest. “We’ll be honoured to, Lord Vanguard.”
* * *
Ten years ago…
“I’ll hide, and you seek!” Prince Sehun chimed, clinging onto Rune’s arm. “Please, please, Rune. Play with me. Pretty please.”
Rune smiled down at the scraggly, pale little boy, at his eager eyes and wide, eager grin. “Of course, My Prince.”
Prince Sehun was… peculiar. He had Alastríona’s eyes, her enchanting semblance. But his skin was as pale as the first snow. Not even the brutal sun of Akrowyth could tan it. Even at the age of nine, the boy was spindly, taller than most boys his age. While Akrowians were all too keen on picking up swords as both their leisure and life pursuits, the Young Prince was more interested in listening to Vulred narrate fables and fairy tales hours on. And it was almost as though he were living in his own fairy tale, where nothing went wrong, and everything made him happy. A playful child with a warm heart. He was unlike most Akrowians. If it weren’t for the uncanny resemblance he bore to his mother…
He grew up without a father, something Rune could relate to, which was why his every whim was catered to. Before the Queen knew it, her younger son was turning out to be an overly cosseted brat. Now, everyone had to wait on him hand and foot.
He spent most of his time running around the palace, playing with guards and servants. Although he and his brother, Prince Garan, were close in age, Prince Sehun preferred the company of his servants while Prince Garan was caught up at his lessons—politics, trade, music, painting, war strategies—that would shape him into the future King of Raenythör.
Rune waited a few moments before he went seeking, dawdling around the courtyard garden, actively avoiding the bed of boulders near the pond, where the Prince was hiding.
“Lord Vanguard,” Rune heard the Queen’s approaching footsteps before he heard her voice. He turned around and confronted the Queen with a bow.
“Your Grace.”
Alastríona smiled at him as she descended the garden steps, Counsel Vulred and a couple of guards accompanying her. “It is a wonderful day, isn’t it?” the Queen said, walking towards Rune.
The day was dull, almost routine. Rune gazed up at the sky and squinted at the sun. “It is… uneventful,” Rune replied.
The Queen chuckled. A soft chime that was rarely heard. She seemed to be in a good mood. “You were never one to look at the brighter sides of life.”
Rune smirked. “When you’ve been to the sides I have, Your Majesty, you wouldn’t either.”
She beckoned to Vulred and the guards to stay put while she joined Rune’s side. “Come. Take a walk with me.”
“Good news?” Rune asked, keeping his strides short and slow.
“Perhaps,” the Queen said with that pleasing smile again. She was wrong. Rune did look at the brighter side of life. He was looking at it right now. “Prince Sehun will be sent away to Nabooru when the ship arrives.”
“For his studies? Why?”
“He does not seem to respond well to the governesses and preceptors in Akrowyth.”
“He is young. Sending him away to a college would solve this problem, do you think?”
“He is inattentive and easily… distracted. He’s too playful. He is more passionate about folktales and myths and Prince Charmings and princesses. He has no passion for the matters of the monarchy. He’s… a lot like his father.”
“I beg to differ,” Rune said and saw a corner of the Queen’s lips quirk up into half a smile.
“He may look a lot like me, but his erratic behaviour is… him.” She paused, perhaps at a memory. “Vaalthor was also… fascinated with fantasies. I live in the real world, and Sehun will never be ready for the real world if he doesn’t learn our ways.”
“The ways of Raiganiels,” Rune said.
“One day, he will be Garan’s Counsel and he needs to acquire the competencies for that.”
“Perhaps he has his own ambitions.”
The Queen laughed. “He’s a Raiganiel, more so than Vaalthor and like you said, without the Raiganiels, there will be nothing but chaos in Raenythör.”
“His name isn’t the only thing that defines him, My Queen.”
That had Alastríona staring at him with something like curiosity for a moment. “No. But his blood is all that defines him, Lord Vanguard.”
Rune quietly looked at her.
“We received an envoy from Odawiya. They wish to aid our endeavours to trade in the east,” she said a moment later. “We shall be able to extend our trade routes.”
She then stopped to coax a fully bloomed red flower into her hand. Rune watched her inhale the scent of the bloom and admire the beauty of it.
“You have no interest in matters of the monarchy either, do you?” she asks, smiling in Rune’s way.
Rune smiled back, holding out a hand to pluck the flower from the bush. “Can’t say I do, Your Grace.” He held the flower to the Queen. “That is why I am a soldier.”
“A very good one.” Alastríona regarded the flower with woe. “It would have lived longer if you hadn’t picked it.”
Rune leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter how long one gets to live their life,” he said in a low voice. “It’s about how it is lived. This flower… has no better honour than to die in your fingers.”
The Queen looked at him for a length before she accepted the flower. “You know too much about life and death for your own good, Lord Vanguard.” She turned around.
“Are you disappointed, My Queen?” Rune asked, proceeding after her.
Alastríona glanced at him and shook her head gracefully. Rune’s eyes briefly flitted to the Amulet of Idaemïr resting against her chest. It was given to her by her father on his deathbed. The amulet was rumoured to hold powers that only a Raiganiel could wield. The ruby glowed at their very touch. It was what had made King Raiganiel and his ancestors great rulers and fighters. And Alastríona would be one, too.
“I, of all, understand you… Rune.”
Oh, what would Rune not give to hold her hand right now. To hold her. To pledge his love for her. Not as a servant, but as a free man.
“You do not,” he muttered, though without hostility in his tone.
The Queen lowered her gaze. “I do. Believe me, Rune… I do… more than you think, more than neither of us want to.” Rune gripped his jaw as she heaved a sigh. “I ought to get back to my court.”
Rune bowed. “Your Grace.”
Once she had left him, with the flower in her hand, Rune slumped against the fence and dropped his gaze to the back of his calloused left hand. Against the dried-up scars and protruding veins, the Death Mark glared at him. He clenched his hand into a fist and gritted his teeth when the Mark stung. It always did when he looked at it. Loosening his fist, he let his hand drop to his side.
When he closed his eyes, he heard the nothingness again. Shuddering, he opened his eyes. Then he heard the sobbing and snivelling.
“Oh, fuck,” Rune murmured to himself, groaning, and hurried over to the pond, where he found Prince Sehun crouching behind the boulders, hugging his knees to his chest.
He was rocking himself, chin burrowed between his knees as he wept grievously with tears staining his cheeks unchecked.
“My Prince,” Rune rasped, lowering to a crouch.
Prince Sehun lifted his glassy red eyes to meet Rune’s. “You didn’t come seek,” he gasped between breaths. “You promised you would.”
“I… did,” Rune said. “come seeking.”
“No, you didn’t!” the Prince cried. “I s-saw you… walk away with my mother. You… forgot about me.”
Rune closed his eyes for a moment. “I apologize, My Prince,” he said slowly. “I did not mean to. It will not happen again.”
The Prince stopped crying as he sniffed and wiped his cheeks with the sleeves of his coat. “You’re not lying?”
“I’m not,” Rune said, holding out a hand.
After a moment of hesitation, Sehun took it and let himself be drawn away from the boulders and onto his feet. “I hid,” he said accusingly.
“I know, My Prince.”
“You didn’t seek,” he complained, looking up at Rune, who was towering tall above him.
“I know.”
The Prince scowled with a pout on his mouth and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to marry my mother?”
Rune’s eyes widened. “Prince… Se—”
“I don’t mind if you are,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I see the way you look at each other. She only smiles when she’s around you.” He looked repulsed as he said it.
Rune exhaled heavily. “No, Your Highness. I am… not marrying Her Grace. Now, come along. Let’s get you inside.”
He ushered Sehun towards the corridor.
“Well, if you are not going to marry my mother,” Prince Sehun then said. “will you marry me, Rune?”
Rune looked down at the boy with an arched eyebrow. “You certainly cannot be serious, My Prince. I’m a… servant. A dirty servant, who’s not quite compatible with Your Highness. You deserve beautiful princesses.”
“I know that,” Sehun said, wiping his nose. “But you are also very…” he trailed off, looking up at Rune before he quickly turned away, cheeks flushed red. “handsome.”
It was a mere whisper.
Rune laughed at that. “Do you really think I’m… handsome, My Prince?”
Sehun did not answer immediately. He chewed on his lower lip and at length, he nodded his head. “I like the way you wear your hair.”
Rune had never heard that compliment before. He did not even know that anyone paid attention to his shortly cropped hair. Not many Akrowians opted for shorter hairstyles, but Rune found it discomforting to wear it long, considering Akrowyth’s brutal climate.
“I find your hair remarkable, too,” Rune said. But then again, anybody would find the boy’s hair remarkable. Like the former King Raiganiel—Alastríona’s father—Sehun had hair in the colour of glimmering silver. “What else do you like?”
The boy came to a halt and stared at Rune. “That scar on your left temple.”
“Ah,” Rune let out. “There’s a fascinating story behind that.”
Sehun’s eyes instantly widened with excitement. “A story?!” he screeched. “I knew it! What is it? Will you tell me?”
“Of course,” Rune said, scrunching down to grab onto Sehun’s arms. “But some other day. Right now, your governess awaits you for your lessons.”
The Prince’s face twisted in discontent. “Aw, no,” he whined. “I do not want to go now. That old hag will continue to pall on me until I die. I order you to save me from her, Rune.”
Snickering, Rune shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t obey that order, My Prince.”
“No! No! I don’t want to study. I want to play. Please, Rune.” He begged with a petulant expression. “Please, don’t make me go to my lessons.”
Rune sighed. “Well, you have to. Your mother will be very discontented if you don’t.”
“I do not care about what she thinks of me,” he snapped.
“You should. She’s your mother and the Queen,” Rune said in a sterner tone. Prince Sehun frowned. “All right… There must be something I can do for you to attend your lessons. A treat, perhaps?”
The Prince began to smirk after a moment of contemplation. “Marry me!”
Rune rose to his full height, blinking. “Marry you?”
“Yes, marry me and I’ll go to my lessons.”
Rune rubbed the scruff of his neck and took an audible, deep breath. “Very well. You should go to your lessons now. And I will… marry you later in the pavilion at sunset.”
Sehun’s mouth stretched into a wild grin. “Do you promise?!”
Rune smiled. “I promise.”