#AssaultOnVariousFronts

[asheewrites]

Assault On Various Fronts Pt 6

When I woke up the next morning, I went to the bathroom. And I dressed. And I went outside and greeted the people in their language and I sat into the carriage.

Nothing had happened.

Nothing.

And the journey would continue. And I would bore myself in the carriage.

Nothing happened and that is that.

Nothing but a good night's sleep happened. I did feel more awake.

And sooner or later... we... started moving again.

Did not see Samil this morning. It was... a relief. It really was.

I was just getting somewhat hungry.

At least I was thankful for all the pillows to sit on. Because it... it was a good thing.

I leaned against the wall of the carriage and watched the soldiers outside talk while they marched along the way.

Of course, the biggest part of the army stayed in my country, still... 'checking in' with my people. I... hoped my sacrifice at least helped them with that.

I didn't want to think about it, but unwelcome thoughts still happened.

There was not much to distract me, though.

The landscape did not change much. The people stayed mostly the same and... well... I was alone with my thoughts.

Until there was a bit of a commotion outside.

Not much, just a bit of shouting in a language I... was not yet able to speak.

And then the carriage stopped. Then the door opened.

I schooled my features into friendly-neutral. Twitching back would not have been polite.

The guy was familiar, I had seen him before. Standing around during negotiations. Big. Made of muscles. A giant scar over his face. Always wearing armor, at least made of leather. Like he wore now as well.

Well, we'd never spoken, though. I never actually heard him speak at all, come to think of it.

That changed that moment, when he said: “Morning. Take this... it good food, bi-” he frowned, then shook his head, “... please take”

He held out a plate I had not noticed it when he climbed in.

It was... a potato. A big potato, together with roasted meat. And a dagger. As cutlery, I supposed, I took it and nodded at him: “Thank you...”

There was a gruff noise coming from him. He crossed his arms in front of him, leaning against the backrest. When his head scraped over the ceiling of the carriage, he frowned. He looked... a bit too big for the carriage, he was all but squeezed into a corner opposite of me.

There was nothing coming from him anymore and he seemed to become... inactive.

So I... placed the plate on my lap and started to eat... eating with fingers was not exactly well mannered, but with only a dagger I could not do much else. That he minded was also... doubtful.

When half the plate was empty, I startled a little bit when he cleared his throat and said: “Name is Njall,” he pointed at himself, “Samil my... brother... brother in... blood?,” he frowned, but left it at that, then.

I blinked at him with somewhat wide eyes. Brother in blood?

With a slight frown, he held out a hand towards me: “Pleasure to... gather you”

When I blinked in confusion, he frowned again: “... meet... meet you... princess Gabrielle” he nodded. His accent was worse than Samil's.

I smiled at him. Politely. And took his hand. He very carefully put his thumb on the back of my hand and made slow up and down motions. I barely felt the pressure and said: “Pleased to meet you, too, Njall. But I am no princess, only the daughter of the ruling man in my nation,” I would not simply inherit a throne, if the people decided against it. Or... would have decided against it. I... this was all very depressing.

“Very pretty... good... ah... ruler... you princess,” he nodded again.

“Ah... thank you...” I didn't know what else to say. He looked at me, patiently, so I said: “So... may I ask you a few questions?”

Another gruff noise, another nod. Alright.

“... so... you said you are his 'brother in blood'? What does that mean?,” I hoped he understood me.

He frowned for a long moment, staring up at the (too low) ceiling, then said: “Brother... ah... very close, other parents. Choice-brother?,” he raised his eyebrows and looked at me. Seemed like the question was if I understood him.

“... so you... don't have the same parents, but you are recognised as brothers? Have the same rights as a brother would have, legally?,” because that existed, if parents adopted another kid. Maybe they were simply step-brothers.

And Njall's face did light up – it was somewhat strange to see that, he didn't seem to laugh too much -, so I supposed that was the case. If the parents or they decided they were brothers didn't really matter. So I apparently had a... choice-brother in law.

… I could... live with that? I supposed?

Mh. I continued eating then, and frowned again: “Why did you come here?”

The gruff noise he made now sounded a bit different and he frowned outside: “Not breakfast... Journey long... Eat-together-rule stupid. We scary... Am sorry, princess,” he bowed his head, even untangled his arms for that, holding onto the bench.

What exactly he was sorry for, I did not know, but he looked sincere. Even if he thought I was scared. I was not. But... well... I was glad he... would support me.

“Ah, you... did your best to atone for it?,” if he was sorry? “So eating together is... a rule?,” I had not skipped out on any meals yet, I had to make a decent impression to the people, after all.

He nodded: “Respect... for people. And food. No eating alone”

I tilted my head: “... I do right now?”

He shook his: “I here. But rule stupid? Break... always,” he crossed his arms again. And closed his eyes.

“... well, ah, thank you, then,” it was a bit strange, but alright. He gruffed again.

And otherwise stayed silent from then on. Did not press any questions and was as unthreatening as possible, sometimes hitting his head at the ceiling. Didn't move, though. Didn't complain either.

And I might have been glad that he was as far away as possible.

When I'd finished my plate, I held it out to him.

“Good?,” he gestured at the plate before he took it. It somehow... disappeared in his  armor then.

“Ah, yes, it was just what I needed,” a hearty breakfast. They had served... delicacies the five days before.

He made another grudd sound and then was... unthreateningly silent for the rest of the day. Apart from not knowing him... it was almost comfortable. He didn't stare or anything, just kind of... sat there.

[asheewrites]

Assault On Various Fronts Pt 3

I kept my composure.

I kept silent and calm and did not make a fuss. I stood there through the entire cheering-part of it.

They were cheering for it.

Cheering that I was supposed to be married to this bloody invader! Home destroyer! Murderer!

What the HELL!

As soon as we were inside, I zoned in on my father: “NO. Father, I have been a loyal daughter all my life, but I will not marry this murderer!,” I pointed at him.

And my father shrunk slightly, apparently aware I would not back down on this. But he shook his head: “It is out of my hands, daughter of mine”

“Nonsense, father! You are the one that led the negotiations, you are the one that traded me off, when I wasn’t even there! How could you!,” I was fuming. And he didn’t even look me in the eye, “Your own flesh and blood, your only daughter! How could you!,” without even telling me, without even asking!

And he just stood there an-

Something had taken my hand, I pulled it away and lashed out.

The slap hung a little in the air. There was a bit of tension.

I should not have slapped said murderer. It’s a bad idea to slap murderers. Especially if he has others with him that have their hands on their weapons.

Then he retook my hand – slower this time -, keeping eye contact, and then bared his neck and pressed his lips to the back of my hand.

Against my will, a bit of colour did raise to my cheeks. As horrible as he was, it was not every day that a man declared his love for me.

He then stood back up and took a step back. And I pulled my hand back. Frowning, grumbling.

And he… looked like he meant it when he said: “… I am sorry, lady Gabrielle. It was – apart from being politically ideal – a very selfish decision. I… could not wish for a better partner. You are brave. And knowledgable. It was a joy to walk, talk and work with you in the few instances I had the opportunity to – I regret your sudden retraction from the table. I would have enjoyed your input. You obviously know how to act a true ruler… do what is best for the people,” he gestured to the balcony, “They need all reason to celebrate something right now. And a true sign of lasting peace. You didn’t take it from them. Even if you had all right to do so,” he looked truly sorry.

I made a cutting off gesture: “Hah. Simply because I do not want to upset them with a scandal right up front does not mean I am going to go through with it, this marriage is a farce! I hate you, you invaded my home! I will never marry you!,” I almost stormed off when he – the bloody stupid victor of this battle– got down on one knee and looked up with a somewhat sad smile.

“You… are right to say that, to feel that way. But I still think you will do it. Because you were raised your father’s daughter. And you put your people first. And this marriage – as much as you might hate it – will form a bond with the Southern Isles. Your nation will be safe from invasions, since we control the neighbouring countries, the much needed sea forces will be added to your disposal, more – and better – trade routes will be usable. It is an inseparable bond. This will bring safety and wealth and this guarantees the promises will be kept. And you can not let your people live in fear. The same as I can not. Of course you are free to decline. I will not force a bond. But this – especially since you are the only daughter of the house – will be an iron clad contract, with a bond between us”

I hated him a bit more.

Then I grabbed the hem of my dress and took a breath: “I will think about it,” and with that, I squared my shoulders and left the room, leaving him on his knees.

…

Three days later, I was with our tailors, getting the dress fitted. Still furious, still hating it, but… he was right. I could not rob my people of their freedom. And not their hope for peace.

Things that were very much in jeopardy if I affronted this blackmailer by refusing his proposal. Bastard. As if I had a choice.

Ugh.

The tailors fitted my top right now. I’d usually delighted in this. It was very fine lace, great details and floral patterns woven into it. Over one shoulder was thrown a long, flow-y cloth, clinging to my skin and accentuating my figure while still spreading itself all around. It felt heavenly on the skin.

I would really enjoy this a lot more, especially with Michelle looking like this.

She was the only thing keeping me halfway sane these days. Those last few days before I had to leave. Leave.

I hadn’t told her yet, that she couldn’t come with me. But Sir Israfil was an asset to the council. And kept father level-headed when emotions welled up. I knew how that is and… he wouldn’t do well without someone like this. And Sir Israfil would follow his sister everywhere, if it was too dangerous. And this… was too dangerous for his tastes. I knew.

It would be one of the worst good-byes.

Because she was one of the only people that saw that they were not all good, but- but…

…

I still looked at Michelle and I could swear there were tears in her eyes. She just sat there, on the bench, hands clenched on the seat and had the most stupid, wobbly smile on her face. Like she wanted to be angry, but she somehow… couldn’t.

… since I knew her almost better than myself, I knew this to be true.

“What is it, Chelle?,” I twitched a bit, the tailor apparently enjoyed spiking me with needles. Well, they were under pressure…

“You’re… you’re just so beautiful,” I was not sure if I was even capable of putting this amount of adoration into a sentence. And… I mean… I knew she appreciated me and my body, but this was… a little excessive. I mean… she forgot to be fierce. That… didn’t happen.

But it was… my wedding dress. And they got the paint and hair done as well – had toupéd it up and there were tiny curls falling down and framing my face.

… it was the day I was supposed to look perfect.

They put a belt around my middle, to better hold the accessories. And Michelle was just somewhat losing it, staring at me and somewhat… vibrating. I couldn’t even be mad right there and then.

I let it happen and enjoy being adored by this fierce, impossible woman.

I mean… she had stared down my groom-to be when he had tried to talk to me during the preparations. Then lectured him about decency. She was not too great at talking to royalty when it had anything to do with my own comfort or safety.

She would be a great bridesmaid, no matter what other’s said. And no matter how much I had to badger her into a dress. She agreed, in the end.

So, in another four days, she was whom I followed into the hall, filled with people, lead by my father to the altar. She was still looking fierce in her dress, ready to defend me at a moment’s notice (only not if she looked at me, that still ended with a forlorn smile).

And then… the groom entered. And what in the goddesses name was he wearing.

Just… what.

He had matched colours with me, using navy blue and white, but otherwise… it… was nothing I had ever seen before, full of ornaments and that is… fit.

It was an asymmetrical… thing. A cape falling down on the opposite shoulder. And otherwise it… fit. I mean, I had seen him in his war outfit and the diplomatic clothes, but they never had… accentuated a figure. That was muscular. And…

… he really did have wide shoulders. And perfect hair.

He was wearing breeches, for all that was holy! There were sequins stitched to his uniform, too, and  horizontal threads of navy blue and the reflected slightly and… I… he…

I looked away. Staring at form-fitting clothing was not appropriate. It was not.

And this was not part of our culture! He just… tried to make it fit in! And didn’t take what he gave him, but made an effort to incorporate our colours to compromise and-

… just because it was clever didn’t mean this was any less of a farce!

No matter how much this clung to perfectly formed calves.

… this day was just too full of people. I looked toward the priest again. She… would read the sermon. Would make us read our vows, would make us swear to be loyal, to be true. Would make us swear to stay at each other’s side.

Because politics. What else.

And we read our vows. And I swore to serve the people – his and mine – and to be only the best for them and as his wife and he… swore to protect his people, to never let harm come to them again and to love me. To be there for me and honour me for the rest of my life. Because I was more than worth it.

And he looked bloody sincere.

We each accepted the tattoos on our wrists – a stylised hippocampus, crest animal of my family - drawn by the best artists in the land. And bowed before one another.

And the crowd cheered. And thus. We were pronounced husband and wife.

My first marriage – the one in my home was done. The second would follow when we reached the Southern Isles. At least I was spared until then.

Tomorrow… we would start the travels. And I would need to say good bye.

[asheewrites]

Assault On Various Fronts Pt 1

It’s been going on for weeks now.

But now it had made a turn for the worse: the invaders were in our streets!

Sure, the war had been going on for months. It was inevitable with the current political climate, had been unavoidable since a decade, really. But now? Now they were in our city!

They had chosen to lay siege on us, the trade routes had been cut off and a few people were already growing weary with it. Being imprisoned in the town walls made them somewhat stir-crazy, too.

But, I mean… no one was hurt. Not really.

A few coincidences in taverns, but the guards calmed everything down again.

I guessed it had only been another question of time until a riot would have started, but apparently… it did not get that far. It… the gate had been breached.

There was minimal damage. For now. And our forces were still out there.

It… wasn’t hopeless.

It actually was a big mistake to fight an enemy on their home turf, so these invaders were at a great disadvantage.

My father looked grim, but determined. Did tell me of the advantages we had. Our city was built for defence. Our guards trained. We had time to prepare for this time.

But he did explain this to me.

He never did. Not usually. Not without reprimanding me that I should know this anyway.

I trusted our people, I didn’t truly doubt them, but when the governor of a city started to wring his hands, I at least started to get nervous.

I wasn’t allowed to be with Michelle to have company, needed to stay with my father and stand. And watch.

The invaders, they… were supposed to be stopped. There was supposed to be a simple stop to their advancement and then they would be driven back. That was the plan. That was the way things were supposed to go.

But they came ever closer. We could watch them take one street after another. As if… as if they knewwhere they should go. Where they could go.

We heard gunfire, but not for long. Never for long.

And then… then they appeared on the town square. Swords drawn, shields raised, approaching the town hall and my home. All of them slowly encroached, eyes on the target.

Only one stopped and looked up.

He was all the way across the place, but I was almost sure he saw me looking at him, felt like he was making eye contact… and then he smiled… and continued forward toward the hall. My hairs raised slightly. And I retreated inside.

I didn’t exactly want to see any of the people – enemy or not – be hit be the arrows fired at them. They also were way too close.

This couldn’t be happening.

I was inside. I took a deep breath… and I heard the door break open. Metal struck on metal, I heard the guards scream, heard how people came into our home, heard them march in. Coordinated steps getting inside. I didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see.

My father had followed inside and now gripped my shoulder, pushing me towards a room deep inside the house, bellowing orders. Behind us, I heard more swords clashing.

The bruise I got on my shoulder would stay, but… slowly, my trust in the abilities of my people waned. It had been too long, hadn’t it? Without fresh food?

I stood behind my father and the dozen of guards protecting us.

That I could not make heads nor tails out of swordfights did not make things better.

The noises from behind the door – and how they came closer – drove everyone on edge. It was almost a relief when the doors finally banged open and invaders poured in.

There were shouted orders, then there were screams and the swords clashing were much louder in this kind of proximity. I backed up against a wall. I… I had always thought that swordfights took a long while. It looked that way in court, every time I saw it. That… was wrong. It didn’t take long at all. Three strokes and one of the fighters was on the ground. A wrist looking strange or the fighter trapped in their own armor.

It was frightening. And then, after half the guards were down, my father drew his own sword. He stepped forth, a young man immediately parried the strike and flat-out pulled the sword out of his hands with his gauntlet, throwing it in a corner.

He was in shock. He was beaten. His home was taken. There was a sword on his throat and he closed his eyes.

“NO!,” I cried out, stumbling forward and trying to pull him back, away! I couldn’t- I couldn’t let this happen! He was my dad, I-

The man’s eyes flicked over to me (my efforts had not done a lot either way), and then he spoke, in a rich, deep voice. With… his people’s typical accent: “Do you admit defeat?”

My father didn’t answer. I squeezed his hand, he looked at me for a second, then spoke through his teeth: “… yes”

“Then order your men to stand down,” it was a calm order, as if this whole day of battle had never happened.

“Men, stand down. It’s over,” they listened. Weapons dropped, clattered to the floor. Tension eased.

And the sword at my fathers throat was lowered as well.

“… then it is time to negotiate the terms of surrender,” he looked at me when he said that, smiling.

… it was the man from the square.