by T L Drew
Andor Grey took a step forward towards the lords and hugged Emery Steel goodbye – it appeared to Margot that the king and the fat lord had become good friends in the few weeks Lord Steel had resided within the Stone Keep. ‘Look after my city,’ Andor instructed him, dropping his arms from his embrace. ‘Show me that I can trust you.’
‘You can trust me, Your Grace.’ Emery assured.
Andor Grey disappeared from the sight of his council before he could allow them to change his mind. He moved himself from the throne room, and Margot was quick to follow him, her duty as his wife. He sped down the dark stone corridors with Nazir protectively behind him as the wind whistled outside of the castle walls, clad in Thorbjorn Grey’s steel as Nazir assumed Thorbjorn’s position during his growing concerning absence from the capital. As they moved further and further from the king’s study, Andor motioned for Nazir to walk beside him, the queen trailing slowly behind, guarded. Nazir was quick to dart to the king’s side.
‘Have you found my uncle’s ring?’ Andor Grey asked quietly to Nazir over the whistling winds from outside the castle walls. Margot tried to listen to his every word.
‘No, I’m afraid not. We have scoured every inch of the castle and we have found no such ring.’
‘Then look again. Look further than the Stone Keep walls. Question Mercer One-Eye if you find him, or anyone else who may have been working for my uncle, but I urge you to find that thing before it can cause any more troubles in my lands.’
‘I will find it.’ The young knight said passionately, Margot listening quietly to their every word, so quiet that Andor almost forgot she was there, following silently.
‘Despite what I have told Emery Steel, I entrust no other with the protection of this city than I trust you – please, for the sake of this kingdom, find that ring.’
‘Is something wrong, Your Grace?’ Nazir asked, sensing a change in the king’s voice.
‘I was sent word, from my scouts…and a letter…’ the king said, careful with his words, his voice almost turning into a whisper. Margot quickened her pace, trying desperately to hear her husband’s words. ‘Jorgen Black is alive, and he may be coming.’
‘Truly? Jorgen’s alive?’ The young knight’s voice rose over the winds, his eyes widening with relief. The king tried to quieten Nazir’s voice, raising it in his joy and disbelief, but Margot had caught his words. Andor’s gaze quickly turned back to his wife; he could see in her eyes that she had heard Nazir’s words, and the king’s voice suddenly grew panicked, angry.
‘You will not tell a soul of what you have just heard, do you hear me?’ He rose his gruff voice, his eyes dancing with wrath as he gazed at his wife with angry blue eyes, and Margot quickly nodded her head.
‘Not a soul.’ Margot agreed.
‘Forgive me, Your Grace.’ Nazir quickly stammered from Andor’s side, his eyes hovering over Margot, disbelief in his gaze.
‘Do not fret, my friend,’ the king said, taking a deep breath, and continued to walk, drawing his eyes away from his wife. ‘Just remember what I told you, yesterday, in the throne room.’
Margot hadn’t been there the day before. She had been with her children for the first time in days, taking care of them instead of the servants; she had never been particularly maternal. She suddenly wished she had been there, in the throne room, to understand her husband’s words.
‘I will not forget.’ The young knight urged his king. ‘I will keep your city safe, your family safe, and I won’t forget what you have told me. I swear it.’
‘I know you’ll do me proud.’ The King of Askavold said, as though he was speaking to a younger brother. Margot could see a fondness in Andor’s eyes as he looked upon the nineteen-year-old Nazir, the second in command of the king’s royal guard, and acting commander in Thorbjorn Grey’s concerning absence. The Queen of Askavold wondered why her husband wasn’t taking the young man with him to North Rock.
Nazir was quick to obey the king’s swift orders. He promised the King of Askavold that his wife, Margot Rose, would remain inside of the Stone Keep during his absence from the city, like a prisoner instead of the queen she was. Andor Grey said his hasty goodbyes to the young knight of the king’s guard as Margot’s husband reached the edge of the vast city, and was escorted by his soldiers to the king’s carriage beyond the Tronenpoint gates, where hundreds of soldiers awaited their king, some on horseback, the others on foot.
Andor Grey did not say his goodbyes to his wife as she stood by Nazir’s side on the outskirts of the snowy city, watching as the king made his way to his vast carriage, guards at his sides. He made quiet commands to Margot about the children, to keep them safe, and no more words slipped from his lips. The king climbed inside of the luxury carriage, built for a king. He ran his hands over the soft wood. Andor took a small army of a thousand men with him. Abigail Black wouldn’t let the king take less – Margot had heard the wife of her lover making demands of Andor in the throne room only the day before. Margot watched as orange flickered past her eyes – Abigail moved across the white cobblestones, her body clad in light coloured furs, a guard behind her carrying a satchel. Andor extended his hand at the entrance of the carriage, Abigail’s hand falling into his as she joined him inside, eyes flicking to Margot with hatred. The queen prayed it would be the last time she would see the pair of them. She knew that Abigail was laying with her husband, like Margot had lay with Abigail’s. Despite Margot’s hatred of Andor, the thought that Abigail was taking something that belonged to her made her blood boil.
Margot’s face fell into a deep scowl as she watched the carriage disappear into oblivion through the heavy snow, leaving her standing outside of the wintry city in the snow and the harsh wind, the cold biting at her golden skin. She breathed icy breath, her head turning away from the fields of white, and falling upon the soldiers that surrounded her, eyes upon her. She felt her eyes narrowing and her body growing rigid and tense.
‘Leave me,’ she urged, but they remained silent, still, and fixated in place, watching her every move. Even Nazir did not move from where he stood, watching as the king’s carriage dissolved into the snow. ‘I wish to be alone.’ Margot seethed, moving herself from the outskirts of the city and back towards the Stone Keep, the soldiers on her tail following her every move closely, like hawks on their prey.
‘Forgive me, my queen, but the king’s orders–’
Margot spun on her heel in the snow and shouted over the roar of the wind. ‘–I am your queen, and he is no longer here!’
‘The king’s orders,’ the soldier said again over the thunder of her fierce voice and the crashing wind. ‘He commands that you remain inside of the castle walls – and we must do as our king commands us, and stay with you at all times.’
‘The king isn’t here, and he left me in command of this city.’ Margot grumbled as she turned back on her heel and sped towards the Stone Keep, spying the castle through the hammering snow. The queen urged her lean body beyond the Tronenpoint gates and deeper into the wintry city, the soldiers following her every swift step.
‘King Andor left Lord Emery Steel in charge of Tronenpoint.’ The soldier corrected. She could see that none of the men trusted her – and they were right not to.
‘I am going to the courtyard – it is protected from these winds – feel free to stay here.’
‘You will be attended at all times,’ the soldier said again.
‘I am truly sorry, Your Grace, this is not what I wanted,’ the young knight, Nazir, interjected, advancing upon the queen as she sped through the vast city, his armour finer than the others, his hair and his skin the same colour as hers, despite coming from another world across the Frozen Sea. There was true concern on his young face; she supposed it was due to Andor’s departure. They had grown close since Thorbjorn’s disappearance. Nazir had begun to look up to the king as though Andor was his older brother. ‘We do not wish for it to be this way, but we must follow our king’s orders.’
‘I unders
tand, Nazir. Very well – lead the way.’ Margot Rose grumbled with venom on her tongue, even though she did not truly understand, and was quick to advance towards the castle through the crunching snow, her hands filled with the bottom of her long black dress, black furs around her bronze shoulders, barely protecting her from the harsh coldness of Tronenpoint.
Ten long minutes passed Margot by as she made it to the vast courtyard, her skin paling from the cold. She moved her slender body inside of the gates with haste, and Andor’s soldiers swiftly followed the queen’s every step in the snow.
‘My queen,’ a man’s gruff voice came from the courtyard as Margot and her husband’s few soldiers passed through the guarded gates and into the confines of the walled courtyard, blanketed in crisp snow. The gates were hastily closed behind them and bolted shut as Margot’s dark brown eyes found the man whose voice carried over the whistling wind – he had one eye visible, the other covered by a worn brown leather patch. He was greying and his long hair was braided down the back of his head, his body armoured with shining silver and a fur collar around his neck, fastened with a silver pin. There was no sigil on his breastplate. He was a mercenary. The queen noticed the man’s gloved hand wrapped around his blade upon his hip.
‘Mercer,’ she said over the wind’s whistling against the stone, trudging in the snow as she advanced upon the one-eyed mercenary, her husband’s soldiers wearily approaching. ‘I thought you would never show – where have you been hiding for all of these weeks?’
‘I only waited for the right time to show myself, my queen.’
‘Mercer One-Eye,’ Nazir said bewildered, taking a step closer to Margot Rose with his hand upon his blade, his eyes narrowing, registering the older man’s face. Nazir had last seen Mercer in the very same courtyard, where Hakon had taken the lives of the slavers before Hakon had been arrested and Mercer had fled. Nazir’s boots crunched over the crisp snow, pushing beyond where the queen stood, standing between Margot Rose and the one-eyed mercenary. Nazir was quick to notice that Mercer was not alone; the men that closed the gates wore no sigils on their breastplates, their skin darker than those who were born in the south of Askavold, and there were more mercenaries standing behind Mercer with their hands ready on their blades. ‘There is a warrant for your arrest, old man – you were a fool to return to the capital.’
‘That may be so, but I have come on the queen’s orders, boy.’ Mercer snarled, taking a step closer to Nazir in the snow, threatening the young man with the point of his blade.
‘It’s matters not – drop your weapon, and we’ll escort you to the cells until you can face the king’s justice.’
‘I think not,’ the aging mercenary grinned.
Margot turned on her heel in the snow, her long ebony dress catching upon her ankles, her eyes locking with Nazir’s. ‘He’s here by my request; there will be no need of that.’
‘There’s a warrant for his arrest, and he’ll be apprehended, Your Grace.’
Mercer One-Eye grinned a wicked grin, his blade swinging in the air like a mad-man, pointing to the heavens. ‘We’re taking this city, boy – throw down your weapon, or be prepared to die for our king, Hakon Grey!’
‘My lady?’ A soldier interjected, hearing Mercer’s words.
‘Seizing the city?’ Another said bewilderedly.
‘This city is mine, mine and Hakon’s,’ Margot said, facing her husband’s soldiers, finding themselves surrounded by mercenaries in the enclosed courtyard. ‘No one has to die, if you stand down now. We will be merciful to those who bend the knee to our rule.’
‘Walk away now, or you’ll regret it.’ Mercer threatened, his eyes finding Nazir and the soldiers that fought for Andor Grey. Her husband’s soldiers did not move a muscle, standing still like steel statues in the snow. Her eyes glossed over each of their faces, knowing each one by name, knowing their stories, but not caring. She knew what she wanted, and she was determined to have it.
Margot’s voice rose as they refused to move, glaring at her with bewilderment in their eyes, laced with a newfound fear. ‘This is your last chance – stand down, fight for me, and obey my rule, or die, right here in this courtyard.’
Her husband’s soldiers didn’t stand down. The queen’s lips turned into a frustrated smile. ‘That is unfortunate…’ she whispered over the roar of the wind, her fingers looping together in front of her stomach, taking careful steps backwards in the snow towards Mercer One-Eye.
‘Whatever you plan on doing, we won’t let it happen,’ Nazir said with surety, drawing his blade, and raising it into the air. His men mimicked him, the sound of steel coursing through the courtyard, loyal to their king. ‘I have orders to take your life, if it comes to it, Your Grace, and I won’t hesitate to do it, should you refuse to surrender now. You’re speaking of treason.’
‘Do not kill him,’ Margot ordered Mercer in a whisper in his ear, her eyes finding Nazir. ‘My husband tells that man his secrets – I’ve seen them whispering. He is more use to us alive than dead. Deal with the others as you please.’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ the aging mercenary grinned a sinister smile before his eyes left the queen’s and found his men. ‘Kill them all, except their commander!’ He shouted gruffly, and the mercenaries raised their swords to strike, surrounded the king’s soldiers like a pack of feral wolves. Margot left Mercer’s side as he leapt forward in the snow, swinging his weapon like he was possessed; she trudged backwards, watching cruelly as blood began to spill, placing her back against the stone walls of the Stone Keep as she watched the blood stain the white snow red.
She watched as Mercer and his men butchered her husband’s soldiers in the courtyard like they were cattle. Her lips twisted into a smile, cold like the snow. Nazir’s blade was struck from his grasp – and still, he continued to fight, the last man standing, stronger and faster than his years, trained by Thorbjorn Grey himself, until a sharp blow to the back of his head by the handle of a long sword rendered him weak and caused his body to fall forward into the snow, still and bleeding. Margot took a careful step forward; she saw all of her husband’s soldiers who guarded the courtyard were dead, and merely an hour had passed them by since the king had left for the north. She knew Andor couldn’t turn back now even if word reached his ears, not with the threat of a powerful and angry Lienhart awaiting his arrival. Her eyes found Nazir as he lay on his back in the snow, his bronze skin tainted red in his own blood, peaceful, like he was sleeping. She watched him for a moment, the slow rise and fall of his chest as Mercer’s laughter echoed through the courtyard, shaking the blood free from his curved weapon. ‘Take this man to the cells,’ she ordered, her eyes still lingering on Nazir. ‘He’ll prove useful.’
‘What now, my queen?’ Mercer asked, lowering his blade as he struggled for breath, his body swathed in the blood of Andor’s soldiers, taking a step closer to the queen.
‘Let’s release our king,’ she said surly, smiling. ‘Tonight, we free Hakon, and then the city will be ours.’
JORGEN
The king gazed out into the ocean from the icy Whitehold windows; a storm was brewing outside of the Whitehold confines as the wind grew wilder and a thousand white horses crashed over the white sands at the edge of the grey castle walls. The snow was falling heavier than it had since Jorgen had rode into the south with an army; he could see the dragon, Anduin, flying through the snow around the edge of the Hold, protecting it from any army that may be close with determination to take it back from his control. Jorgen gazed out as he felt Nora’s arms wrap around him, feeling the warmth of her being close, warmer than the ring on his finger. In the short weeks they had resided in Whitehold, planning his next move, his next strike, he had begun to feel at home somewhere since his own home had burned in a pile of ashes and rubble; perhaps it was because he felt safe behind the stone walls, with his lover and his brother, with a dragon flying in the skies to protect them…or was it just because Whitehold was something he had stolen from Hakon Grey?
As Jorgen began to wonder whether Hakon knew he was alive, and whether the western king had stolen the Crow Killer’s home, Nora dropped her grasp from behind the King of Balfold and moved out in front of his dark gaze, blocking the sight of the crashing sea and the heavy snow from his black eyes. ‘Jakub told me that you are leaving today,’ she whispered as they were left entirely alone in a room they could only assume once belonged to Hakon Grey; it was the largest of all the chambers that had been built into the castle of Whitehold, with the richest furs that gold could buy sprawled over the four-post bed, with the finest steel weapons mounted upon the walls like trophies. There was even an old painting of the Crow Killer upon the stone walls, mounted over the roaring fire place, a picture painted several decades prior, when the old man still had a full head of dark hair and a face void of wrinkles. He had weight on his frame in the painting and a long beard. Jorgen realised he was gazing at it with angered eyes when Nora tried to pry his attention back to her. ‘Jorgen, please answer me.’ She asked, her eyes laced with concern. Jorgen drew a heavy breath.
‘I am riding further south today, it’s true,’ he admitted, his eyes finding the copper glow of hers, like staring into the autumn leaves of the Arus. ‘I should have told you sooner.’
‘Yes, you should have.’
‘Forgive me,’ the western king whispered, pulling her into him, embracing her with his broad arms, feeling how small she was against him. ‘You should not have to hear these things from Jakub; they should come from my own lips.’
‘Why did you not tell me?’ Nora asked, her arms still wrapped tightly around him as though if she let him go, Jorgen might disappear. She grasped him tighter, burying her face into his dark tunic, her hands wrapping in the furs that draped from his shoulders.
Jorgen let a quiet sigh slip from his full lips. ‘I did not wish to tell you,’ he admitted, closing his eyes as he held her, wishing he didn’t have to leave. ‘I have an audience with the King of Askavold.’