FENRER

The dawnblade, the promise of the Pyren's and their solemn duty, nestled itself on the weapon rack within the room. Its weight was tight on his palm when he grasped it, though left it in place to take stock of the heaviness in his heart. A starry, frayed tangle, twisted and tugged. He lowered his head, choking on the reminder, but released it to head for the door. Screams of the past whizzed across fiery arrows which struck hardwood and burnt the world to ash. Birdlike shrieks echoed further, and he dug his fingers into the knob of the door, before opening it to retreat from the noise. His appetite dwindled the more his thoughts wandered, but he forced himself to head through the castle, past the quarters of all those on King Reyn's council. People Father spoke of but he never got to know until now, such as Lady Valarma's father, who had long since passed after the civil war.

He faltered by Keeper Kalla's study — Yuven's until he thought up a strategy to handle King Reyn, who refused to abandon his people to the last.

'Just remember, Molvisaliz, he's your old family friend. He is not mine.' Yuven turned his back on him and excused himself from the conversation he tried to have a day prior, without doubts that Yuven would do his duty to the last in turn, but his complaints crushed between his temples, and he tried to shake himself out of the weave of aura slipping through the cracks of the castle. Red webs wound themselves around the wispy colors, the multitudes of bloodshed Haneka found itself in over the many Turns of its existence. From when his ancestor gave the crown to Kolis, the original Dragon King. Fenrer gave Adara more Hanekan legends to endear herself to, to practice her Hanekan, a warmth in his chest at her efforts to understand it and learn more of the world she was once locked away from. Her wanderlust turned out to be infectious, when he stood on the shoulders of his ancestor and raised the dawnblade as he once had against the coming of the crimson abyss. Stories of eld which kept him awake at night as a young boy, dreaming of his own, not knowing what would happen at the end.

Instead, I find myself at a loss. Adara said he doesn't hate me... but if he doesn't... is hate truly so bad than the alternative? Because hate isn't the opposite of love and care... it's apathy. There was nothing for it except to attend dinner with King Reyn and parts of the council, including Stigan Tyronai, Lady Valarma, and Gustul Kolis. Many others he failed to pick up the names of, to remember the law of their land Father taught of him. People Yuven insisted one could never be too sure of their intentions, whether involved with the cult or not. If there was ever an opportunity of temptation — the burden of knowledge, he found himself surrounded by it, by those with ulterior motives. Just focus on protecting His Grace... if the cult manages to get him as they did Hirishi... Fenrer stopped at a window to witness the sun crawling downwards. The toll might come for all of us, another Crimson Dusk. He sucked in his lips and continued forward, ignoring the reverence some of the housecarls gave him, the last living son of the Pyren's, the carrier of the name and the dawn.

He half-expected Adara to be waiting for his arrival, but he frowned when she was nowhere in sight when he came closer to the doors to the feasting hall. Mouth-watering spices wafted from it, and he opened the door. Haunches twirled on the cooking spits, with Reyn at the center — and only occupied table with the others, On one side, Lady Valarma, leaning into the chair with a smile on her face, nodding to Gustul, whose exaggerated gesticulations and rowdy words made Stigan Tyronai sink into the shadows, taking dinner time as seriously as he had the council meeting. Reyn shared Stigan's reluctance for Gustul's carousing stories, but Fenrer came closer and put a smile on his face.

"Take a seat, Pyren."

Are these the people Reyn trusts the most without saying a word? Fenrer bowed to each, though stopped when Gustul pouted at him. Bow to no one. He straightened out his back and chose a seat at the table, filling his plate with food as he took another for Adara whenever she arrived. Compared to what one would expect out of feasting halls of this scale, Reyn's was quiet, subdued.

A silent affair though Gustul made up for it in high tales, taking heavy swigs from his tankard. "Oi, Fenrer." He twisted his head when his name was called, only to get a friendly punch to the shoulder. "We don't bite, promise — well, at least I don't think we do. How've you been enjoying Sivaport this time around?"

"Gustul," Reyn grumbled through his fork.

"What?" Gustul tapped his own knife into a haunch of his beef, sliding through the tender sinew.

"I've never had any qualms with Sivaport. Would that I could choose my postings I'd pick here," Fenrer told Gustul, who beamed at him before giving a smug jeer at Reyn, who drew his eyes upwards. "For now, the Storm Warden's efforts are concentrated on shoring up defenses around the Burning Abyss and pre-planning for the next King's Summit." If that's even going to have a chance to happen... It may be too dangerous to hold with the cult...

"If the Storm Warden's require runesmiths, I'm sure many here would leap at the opportunity. I know Elias Ollain has worked with the Warden's before. He'd be all too happy to assist again."

"I'll be sure to bring it up to the Warden-Commander if we have a need, though I believe she wants your efforts to be focused on the southern wall." Fenrer hesitated, not having the authority to say either way. He dipped his head and pushed a chuckle through his lips. "Ah, but I'm not the one to ask. You should send such inquiries to Yuven. He's the Captain, the authority of the current posting, running the Storm Wardens and overseeing defenses or offenses against any Derelict reports which come in." He poked at his own beef. "I just follow him. I don't have the mental fortitude to lead." It fell quiet at the table, and Fenrer shoved his shoulders into his neck and he raised his hands. "Don't let me bring down the mood. I can always excuse myself until another time, Your Grace."

Everyone stared at him, and he choked on bile and his appetite waned.

Reyn shook his head. "It takes more than mental fortitude to lead."

Fenrer slipped his attention to the king of Haneka. "I'm not like you or him."

"Good. If all leaders were the same, I doubt we'd get anything done. We are more powerful by our differences — made stronger by the counsel of those around us," Reyn said and motioned at the table. "If everyone simply went along with the loudest voice... Well, history likes to teach us why that is often a mistake. One shouldn't be afraid to speak their mind to someone in authority. If they do... something is wrong." He took a sip of his stew, then remarked, "Our father didn't listen to those on his council, and if any of them spoke out..."

War.

"I'll consider your words, Your Grace."

Reyn nodded and returned to eating, and Fenrer found his appetite making a slow return. Auras, soft and in a constant flow, wound around the lamps in the rafters. Silver lilies started to bloom on the embers, and he dropped his attention to the doorway out to the corridors. Adara crept in long after he sensed her presence and magick. Her arms wrapped around what appeared to be a shortsword, bundled in a thick wrapping to protect it from the elements. "Ah, Sazaka," Reyn greeted, causing her to freeze and twist her gaze to the occupied table, the only one within the feasting hall. "Good of you to join us. Feel free to take a seat and take whatever strikes you."

"Oh. Of course, Your Grace. Thank you for the hospitality" Adara bowed and bustled herself over to the table.

"Is that what took you so long?" Fenrer questioned as she joined his side, not taking her seat. "You got yourself a sword? If you wanted one, I could've told one of the forgemasters to take your measurements and if you have any preferences when it comes to weaponry." Adara looked over the spread over the table as Reyn poured mead into his tankard after some nudging and griping from Gustul. Fenrer took his cue to pour his own with a smile at her. "I'm sure Yuven would be all too willing to teach you more about swordplay. I think you've improved leaps and bounds since he first started training you." He stuck his fork into his mashed tubers, swirling magick into it before taking a sip. Its honeyed taste slipped through his throat, and he found his appetite making a full return at the sizzle of meat.

"It's not for me."

"Hm." Fenrer took another sip as she unwound the cloth and set it on the back of her chair. An impressive make, clearly the work of a Warden runesmith.

"It's...a gift for you." Adara adjusted her hold on it so the hilt was to him, and beside him, Reyn sucked in a gulp of air and choked on mead, causing Lady Valarma to clap his back. Gustul, on the other hand, chugged deep of his own with a casual shrug. The sweetness turned sour and rotted when she lowered the sword to him. "I hope it feels comfortable for you."

Everyone stared at him.

"Um..." Fenrer pushed a smile on his face and pushed his plate and tankard far away from him. "What... brought this on, Adara? I don't need another sword. I take care of what I have." Uncertainty undressed his throat, and he sank into his shoulders when the staredowns turned into the sneers of those who dread his power, brought to heel by a black band and the threat of having everything taken away. Fenrer sucked in his lips when Adara pursed hers. "Not-Not that I don't appreciate the gesture." He brought his fingers close to his chin, trying not to drown in the heated tide on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Adara asked.

She doesn't know. Just... Fenrer shook his head.

"Don't you know?" Stigan mused behind her, an amused smile on his face to bring back the youth war stole from them. "Usually when you give someone a sword, it's an expression of interest for a proposal. Marriage?"

"Eh, I've seen far more bombastic attempts at the Tipsy Dragon," Gustul remarked and continued to take his drink while Reyn recovered from his. "Shall I drag out the congratulations?"

Fenrer forced out a laugh and waved his hands at them. "I-I think there was a misunderstanding," he insisted when Adara went wide-eyed in shock and stared down at the sword which fit in her hands.

"Yeah, I definitely don't want to marry you." Fenrer jolted, and Adara winced. "Not-Not that I'm opposed to it in the future, it's just-No, this is a misunderstanding." Her own laugh shook out of her lips when she drew the sword back into her arms. Her tortured expression of nervousness died into one of annoyance. "Got me good, didn't he?" She hugged the sword. "Yuven gave me your measurements and told me you needed another sword."

The pit yawned into the abyss of his heart. "...what?"

"Yuven... guess this is his idea of a joke on me for bothering him constantly about you two..." Adara wrapped the cloth back around the sword with a huff. Though words came out of her lips, it fell into an endless white noise. Auras pulsed, a searching flow as he flicked his gaze around her. Barbs of exasperation with no hint of fuzzy embarrassment. His hand pressed against his own chest, claws raking its way up his throat at the eyes of Reyn and those he chose to keep close. Gustul laughed as Valarma spoke through the white noise with her own smile. Reyn covered his mouth.

Auras brightened when his face hit the dirt. An endless blaze of amusement and second-hand disgust when he knelt over a bucket and expelled his strength in the form of bile. He shuffled himself out of his chair to get away from the table, the smell of food sending waves of sickness and rot into his stomach when he hurried away from them and his inability to do anything right. Fists clenched, he tried to push out the growth of pressure behind his eyes. Every aura wilted and drained until he found the one he sought. Someone called his name, shouted it out to the world's breath. Every time, it struck his mind and he tried to resist the urge to scream. For those who could witness its life, all he wanted was for his sight to die.

Kalla's personal library.

He threw open the door, the motion far too slow to his liking until he punched it open. Candles burst into open flames of morning embers when he stomped his way in. The icy maelstrom tried to fight the swallowing dawn, but when he turned towards the source, Yuven raised his head from the table. In an instant, through the haze, he found himself latching onto his best friend, the same way he grabbed onto Blackwall — and that fact alone sent a wave of electric hesitation through his limbs. "Why?" he snapped. "It's not enough to watch as I get embarrassed in front of the Storm Wardens, you must use Adara to pour salt into the wound?" Yuven raised his hands, but he shook the stubborn jackass of an Avaerilian. Anything to get the point across. "You told me that we needed to be careful! That was the complete opposite!" He bounced Yuven off the edge of the table a couple more times for good measure, before letting him go at Adara's voice behind him.

"Fen—"

Yuven raised his hand to Adara, and her lips curled into a sneer, but she said nothing. "Go on then, Molvisaliz." Lavender fields bled into rage and draconic beads of black depths. A guttural hiss left his nose when he exhaled, relaxing in his hands of ruin.

It tore at the seams of his magick, made out of stars when he shook Yuven more with a gasp. "Why? What did I do to you to deserve this?" He dug his fingers deeper into Yuven's shoulders, whose feathers thinned with his unblinking stature, his fangs slipping past his lips. "Or is this because I'm an Aurus and it's only fitting I get constantly ostracized just to make sure people are safe from me? Is this what this is about? Tell me."

Adara drew back, holding the sword of cruelty in her hands.

Yuven's gaze flicked to her, then back to him when he pushed him against the table. "You did nothing."

Twine slipped past frayed ends. "For no reason then?" Fenrer let go of him with one more push, and Yuven steadied himself with a soft hiss. "You know what, Yuven? I don't care." He threw his arms up. "You are so..." He bit on his tongue. "Are you aware of how cruel you are capable of being? For someone who fought so hard to not be seen as no better than a Derelict, you're not doing a good damned job at being a decent person, proving them right, giving them a reason to see you like that, to think that what was attached to you has already killed the person you might've been. No, instead you rip people apart to their bones just like a Derelict." He sucked in a breath. "No, you're worse. Most Derelicts have a base instinct. You? You've got no damned good reason to be the way you are, you just do it needlessly." He threw his foot into the stool when the ice on Yuven's face cracked with wide eyes. "I didn't do anything to earn your ire! Maybe the people around you have reasons to judge you so harshly. You reap what you sow, Yuven Traye. Maybe Maria didn't burn all of it out of your system — maybe you're stuck this way and I've already lost my best friend when I let him go on the cliffs! Maybe I lost him when he was a prisoner to someone else's whims. Maybe I lost him to the monster I didn't realise he was becoming!"

Words tumbled off his tongue, and Fenrer chewed on the bitter taste of what was once honeyed sweetness and warmth.

"Fen..." Adara drew closer. Except her voice was washing out in his ears as he stood in front of Yuven — in the past where the pale-haired boy hid in the shadows, fearful of the world. Hand drawn back from the light, Yuven took a step back, holding an eerie silence, and the weight of his words dropped into the same pit he formed when the beads tightened and Yuven looked down at his boots. 

Stars wilted off their ends, but others clung onto the fingers wrapped around them, refusing to let go.

Adara came too close, and he raised his hand to stop her approach, though she stood without flinching, he pulled himself back. As the words echoed through his head, he saw himself through her eyes. Her quiet sobs, her decrees of magick being nothing more than a blight, a curse ringing through his ears, only to declare his own a wondrous sight, a blessed curse. The sword sat comfortable in her hands, not even his style of weapon.

"I need some time alone." Fenrer left the two he abandoned on the cliffs to throw himself over the edge to save their lives.