No Regrets

Notes: ‘No regrets’ is a series of two or three TCD episodes featuring Ryaen’ne, Delaen’niel, Lnorien, Midaen’niel and possibly Iadden, seen from Ryaen’ne’s point of view. It takes place during and before the events related in TCD, namely chapter 15, Part I. This all started as a request from boring_neko19, which inspired me more than it should on writing more about Ryaen’ne and his adventures. This is not yet the specific part you requested, though, boring_neko19. But I promise it’s coming! =) I really hope you like it, anyway. On another note. After yet another long absence, I returned to my writing, hopefully now with time to spare and not overwhelmed by my job and studies. Thank you for your patience!


No Regrets

~Episode One~

By Ellnyon


“RYAEN’NE!!!”

The blond knight heard Delaen’niel’s desperate scream behind him milliseconds before the spell connected with his body. From that moment on something inside him became distorted and in spite of the few seconds in which nothing seemed to come from the harmful spell, Ryaen’ne knew that was the beginning of his end.

Delayed, but expected, the excruciating pain came at last, along with the sudden realization that he no longer had a say in the matter. He would have to leave everything behind. His friends, his family, his lover and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Despite everything he had said, everything he had done, in the very bottom of his heart, he still had dearly held the hope that his brother’s predictions might be wrong somehow. But of course they weren’t. His brother’s role in this war would be crucial if they had any hope of win it. By now, knowing that Midaen’niel would have to journey to the battlefield and that he wouldn’t be there to protect or even advise him on the best course of action was just another pain adding to the many he was already feeling, physically and emotionally. Not that he was a very good counselor to anyone in the first place. Not even to himself.

Look where his foolish mind and heart had taken him. Instead of helping, he only hurt those he loved the most. His dearest Delaen’niel. His King and master. What he had done to the first prince the night before couldn’t be closer to blasphemy.

He was even more shameful for he was supposed to take the forbidden love and desire he felt for his best friend to the grave, not confess them the night before his death, much less act on them. The fact it was requited was just another sin altogether, since he couldn’t help but feel insanely happy about it…and miserable, at the same time. That meant Delaen’niel would suffer much more with his death than he would ever had predicted.

After all, he hadn’t had a clue his first prince could love him. It was so unlike him to forget his duty to his country. And Meya’s crowned prince was promised to a lovely, flawless Ethen since a very young age. He wasn’t supposed to fall for the Commander of his personal guard, his cousin and best friend, Ryaen’ne. But he had, against all odds, and he had had no qualms admitting it…

Damn it! Delan’niel loved him too. Damn it all to the Underworld and back. He didn’t want to die! He wanted to live. He wanted to be there for him…for all of them. How could he die when there was so much to do? The war. His father, brother and cousins. His newfound lover and his friends, old and new. His country. The Freedom and Honor of the Alliance. He couldn’t die!

He fought against the spell with all the will left in his body. He screamed and fought for everyone he loved, for everything he was, for his country and his family and his friends and his life. He refused to give up just yet.

But his body was taken. No matter how strong his will might be, his life-force was still abandoning him. And quickly. Tears flooded his eyes, in a last display of desperation, when his strength finally failed him and his body gave up on his own even when his soul never would. The pain was especially intense then. It was like his heart was being ripped from his chest.

He almost felt like laughing when he realized in his last moments of awareness that that was exactly what was happening. Finally losing all the feeling on his body, the physical pain became something so far away that he could barely recall it. Only the despair remained.

The change, when it came, was unexpected. And surreal. Moments before he had been facing the terror of bloody eyes surrounded by cynicism and destruction and the fear of his own death. Now he was simply looking into shocked green eyes bright with crystalline tears, locks of sunny strawberry blond hair swaying softly with the fresh breeze and a clear blue sky extending above. He remembered then why he had to give up on everything. Why it was alright for him to die today. Why he had chosen to do so.

&&&&&&&&

«Meya’s Royal Palace – Sixteen years before»

“Stop that, Ryaen’ne!” Prince Fealiha admonished for the second time with a severe tone. The four year-old boy in question looked up from his place near the rocking crib with his little brows furrowed. His Ethenim was about to ruin his fun.

He glanced at the man’s striking face to witness what he was already expecting. The look on the usually joyful sapphire blue eyes was serious with authority and quite clear. Little Ryaen’ne was not allowed to entertain himself by making faces to the toddler inside the crib, distracting the Eth baby from his needed sleep.

Stubbornly, the blond child defied his Ethenim for some seconds, but a twitch of the elegant eyebrows told him this was a fight he was not going to win on wits alone.

Knowing he had lost, but not quite resigned to his fate yet, Ryaen’ne pouted, pushed the wooden bed one more time with both hands and sat down on the grassy floor. Uncaring of his frustrated antics the rocking crib kept swinging softly.

His uncle, a tall Eth with short reddish hair and matching beard, passed him to reach a cup of wine on a table nearby and smiled fondly at the pouting boy. With a short good-humored laugh, he patted the four year old head and sat down on one of the many four-armed chairs in the palace’s great garden with his cup in hand.

Satisfied with his son’s reluctant obedience, Fealiha turned his attention to the seated King of Meya again and resumed his speech about Ethen’s rights and their current situation in their country. The Eth took a sip of his cup while rolling his eyes in annoyance, but eventually listened in to the Ethen’s statements.

The youngest Ethen brother of the royal family, who was sitting on a chair next to the King, kept on quietly petting his long platinum hair. Not appearing to pay much attention to the conversation around him, Sarjae was actually silently praying that his brother, the King, would listen to his other brother, Fealiha. He didn’t want to marry that brute Erephine from the South.

Sarjae was beautiful and elegant. Not quite as much as his two elder Ethen brothers, but still, it was simply too unfair that they got to marry the heirs of the Siekih and Guinare, when he had to journey south to marry the SECOND son of the Erephine family and live in the farmers’ lands, away from the glamour of the Capitol. It was one thing if the man was at least good-looking, but as it was, he was even ugly, unrefined and totally dependent of his older brother, the rigorous Erephine Heir.

He desperately wanted to be free of that marriage, although he would never have the courage to declare it and defy his late Father’s orders and older Eth brother’s wishes. After all, the latter was the actual King of Meya and Sarjae was nowhere as brave as his elder brother Fealiha.

Uncaring of all that and extremely irritated in his boredom, Ryaen’ne remained seated in the grass and sulked for a little bit while tearing petals from the garden flowers with annoyed pulls. However he soon realized his Ethenim was too busy arguing with his uncle to even notice his frustrated antics. Huffing with childish indignation, he turned to the crib once again only to realize he was being watched.

The crib had stopped swinging, but the toddler inside was far from asleep. Used to be constantly entertained by his older cousin, the young first prince had frowned at his absence and had sat in his covers to blink his exotic big green eyes at the sitting Ryaen’ne.

The other blond child shrugged and glanced in his Ethenim’s direction. Little Delaen’niel looked that way as well and furrowed his eyebrows with a lovely pout when he realized no one cared for his needs. And those, right now, did not include sleep. Not when he had his cousin to play with him.

Thinking on the best course of action to make them know he was awake, he decided to use his best weapon. He cried. Loudly. With big fat tears, hiccups and everything.

As expected, everyone in the garden turned to him.

Fealiha looked sharply at Ryaen’ne. The boy raised his hands in surrender. “It wasn’t me.” He defended himself. His Ethenim sighed in resignation and took the bawling prince from his father’s unsure arms to set the blond toddler on the grass next to his son.

With a pleased smile Ryaen’ne hugged his small cousin and the infant finally stopped crying. The others smiled at the two boys as they began playing with each other.

“This was what they both wanted. You should’ve just done that in the first place, Fealiha. You would’ve saved many flowers in this garden.” The king said with a laugh, gazing at the carpet of colorful petals surrounding Ryaen’ne. The blond Ethen sighed again with an elegant shake of his golden locks.

“Delaen’niel never gets any sleep in the afternoons when I bring Ryaen’ne along.” He affirmed, annoyed. But then he glanced at the two happy, laughing children and couldn’t help but smile tenderly at them.

“He has time to sleep. Let him enjoy his cousin’s company today. It’s a good thing they are such good friends. We won’t be able to watch over them all the time, particularly when they get older. I feel reassured knowing Delaen’niel has someone like Ryaen’ne to care for him, someone who will be there to protect him when I can’t.” The king of Meya said returning to his chair. Fealiha nodded at his brother’s words.

“I feel that way as well, especially because I have a feeling your son will have a lot more trouble protecting my boy than the other way around. My husband is planning to send him into military training soon. And I fear for my child. Can’t help thinking that Ryaen’ne is still too young and somewhat too dreamy and unwary for his age…” He declared, sitting down next to his Eth brother, who shook his head with a smirk.

“You’re too hard on him, Fealiha. Of course he’s young, he’s only four, but, contrarily to you, I see a strong personality in him already. And that’s why I believe he’ll grow up into a fine young man soon enough. I also agree with Lord Siekih, it’s time for Ryaen’ne to strengthen his body to match his character. He has great parents and an excellent lineage, he will become a great warrior before we even notice.” Fealiha sighed sadly, not finding that much comfort in the king’s words.

“Let’s just hope the two princes won’t like each other TOO much.” Sarjae began softly, redirecting the conversation to the previous topic. “After all, we want them both to marry Ethen and have children, don’t we? Can’t have the two giving up their rights to the throne to stay together.” The younger Ethen commented nonchalantly while resuming the petting on his hair. His two brothers turned to him. The king huffed.

“Really Sarjae, you’ve been reading too much of those novelettes coming from N’Alaera.” He affirmed, shaking his head. “That’s not going to happen. Eth discipline does not allow romances between Eth princes. They will be like brothers, nothing more. Which reminds me. Isn’t it about time you allow your betrothed to visit you in the palace? He’s been in the Capitol for days now. You ought to receive him, get acquainted with him. Only three years more until your marriage. I know he has brought you a nice gift. He’s such a good man, always so kind and devoted to you.” Sarjae looked sideways and nodded, albeit reticently.

“I know, brother. I will receive him.” He agreed softly, wisely hiding his displeasure. Not that he had to make a great effort. The king had no idea he despised his betrothed and he was too dense to notice it. But Fealiha was another matter altogether and there wasn’t much Sarjae could keep from him. His Ethen brother knew, he could bet on it…and Sarjae knew as well that Fealiha disapproved of his displeasure regarding the Erephine young lord.

&&&&&&&

«Eaar’ille Fortress – Thirteen years before»

The third prince of Meya, Ryaen’ne Siekih, looked around in awe as his horse was led past the drawbridge and main gates of the large fortress. The complex stronghold of solid granite was built into various divisions, tall walls separating the several courtyards.

The prince and his companion rode through numerous archways and tall hallways inside the fort’s walls without seeing anyone else but the guards standing watch here and there above on the battlements. The many knights he could hear in the distance were too busy with their instruction to wander the halls.

Finally arriving to the quietest part of the fort, his eyes widened in surprise once more as he gazed upon the massive amount of tents of all sizes and shapes he could see in the area. His young mind had thought the greatest knights of Meya had luxurious quarters inside the gigantic fortress, but that was far from the truth. Every knight on that training camp apparently slept on tents, not inside the safety of granite walls. It seemed the rumors about Eaar’ille, the Eths’ greatest military camp, were true.

Ryaen’ne had been the only selected among the many Eths under ten years old to join that famous camp. For that purpose, the young prince and his personal young valet had left their home in the Capitol of Meya and traveled one hundred and fifty miles past the northeast of the country into the volcanic Dragon Mountains.

Wedged between two tall massifs in a valley surrounded by dense forest on all sides, this military camp was the only one which was not situated in the Eths’ land. After all, its location was also an important part of the training. Most of the tasks and quests took place in those mountains and they were well known for being the lair of some of the nastiest beasts in the world.

Apart from that one, the Eths had several other training camps all throughout Meya. Due to the race’s code of conduct and the LAW, all Eth children were obligated to be taught the art of fighting and military skills for a minimal period of at least ten years, preferably commencing in a very young age. For that effect, each major town and province had a military school of their own, which the children could attend for a small fee. This education could also be given by private tutors, but that was a luxury reserved to the nobles, mainly the high class ones.

The students would then participate in free, yearly competitions and the best were often recruited to more specialized military camps situated in uninhabited areas, such as forests, mountains and deserts. There, they were subject to harsh conditions and they would complete their training by perfecting their skills, learning strategy and all the rules and discipline inherent to being part of the greatest warring force of the world. This training was free of charge and became remunerated in the later years, for they would unavoidably integrate the country’s army.

After enduring an already extreme training for almost two years in the Capitol’s barracks, home of the great royal guard, Ryaen’ne had been deemed strong enough to join a specialized military camp, having excelled in both magic and weaponry.

His efforts rewarded, he had not only been the first knight of his year, his talents had also been recognized by some of the greatest warriors in Meya and the young third prince had been recruited to the only military camp located outside of his country. His personal valet of twelve years old of age had also been chosen despite his less than excellent grading (many said in order to accompany the prince). Still, there was no denying his talent and worth.

Peculiar because of its location, this camp was also known for its severe training, having some of the oldest and most commended knights and priests of Meya as instructors. Only the best in the country were selected to be part of this warrior force and it was rare that an Eth which had been selected to this camp didn’t end up as a commander in the army. The greatest generals and warriors of Meya of all times had also completed their instruction there.

Called the Eaar’ille (Dragon fortress) due to its location in the Forest of Dragons to the northeast of Meya, this military camp had thousands of years of existence and was regarded highly in the eyes of Meya’s society. But the boys recruited to its instruction didn’t always meet glory in the end. Some weren’t able to comply with the rigid discipline and perilous challenges of the camp, meeting their death instead. Even so, simply the fact of being chosen was seen as a sign of strength and was a huge honor to the children’s families.

Because of that, Ryaen’ne’s father had held a proud stance during his boy’s departure to the most rigorous and taxing training camp of Eths. Unlike the other three major noble families of Meya, the Siekihs hadn’t achieved their prestige because of their valor in battle and the Siekih Lord had always been quite ashamed he hadn’t managed to acquire the skills to join any camp when he was of age. To have his only son achieving such a feat at such a young age was proof that the Siekih were not the weaklings everybody claimed they were, and a reason of pride for the Lord.

The boy’s Ethenim, however, didn’t share his husband’s enthusiasm. Instead, a straining sense of worry had taken hold of his heart as soon as he had known. Fealiha hadn’t wanted to part with his small child. Having to let the boy travel away from the safety of his household into strict training was a major stressing factor to the Ethen’s overly protective personality. Especially when rumors said some boys had died in the camp due to its dangerous missions in those forests full of savage beasts and wild dragons.

If he had been attentive, he would have intervened and stopped the recruitment somehow, but Fealiha had been busy trying to solve his brother’s Sarjae shameful situation and had neglected his own family. When he had realized his son had been chosen, it was too late to do something about it. And so he had to let the boy go. To his dismay.

Ryaen’ne and his valet were led inside one of the largest tents, where they were received by the High priest and the General in charge of the camp. They held a brief conversation, in which they were explained the rules of the fortress, the periods of training they would undertake in the Eaar’ille and asked about the welfare of their families.

During the conversation, the High priest and the General had also emphasized that, while in the camp, Ryaen’ne would be treated exactly like any other trainee. The fact he was just an almost eight years old child meant little regarding his training and chores. He would work like everyone else. The fact that he was the third prince meant only that he had higher obligations than anyone else in there and, as such, they would be even harder with him in terms of discipline and proper conduct. Also, his valet should refrain from treating him with titles. Ryaen’ne was not to be shown or to expect the reverence he was used to in the Capitol from others, at least not until he became really worthy of it. In the Eaar’ille, regarding birthrights, they were all equals.

The two boys were then dismissed in order to unpack their things, get acquainted with the place and settled before dinner. They had early curfews and even earlier mornings. And the two would start their training as soon as the break of dawn.

When they left the General’s tent, the sun was already setting behind the mountains to the west and the prince and his valet were led to the tent that would be their home for the next six months.

The blond prince yawned softly as he neared the brown tent destined to them. Next to it, a white flag with a huge ‘32’ number fluttered softly from a ten-foot pole. Gazing at the rather small tent, the Eth prince couldn’t care less about opulence. As long as he could get a hot meal and something fluffy and warm to sleep in, he was the happiest boy in the world. He had never been so tired in his whole life. The long journey to the hidden fortress had exhausted him. The mountains had deep slopes, dense vegetation, tall trees and unsteady marshland. The trails were difficult for an adult to ride, let alone a young child.

With another long yawn and a forceful move, the young prince pushed aside the heavy cloth serving as door and entered first in the tent, only to find two pairs of eyes staring at him. In addition to being rather small, apparently his tent was also not exclusive.

Surprised, Ryaen’ne remained silent while gazing at the other two without knowing what to do. He had, at least, expected some privacy in his tent. After all, he was the third prince. Was he supposed to share his rather reduced sleeping quarters with his valet and even two more boys? Besides, the boys were most likely southern with their tall builds and dark skins. They had nothing of the Capitol’s refinement. He frowned. They had to be commoners. This had been most likely a mistake. He wouldn’t be put in the same tent as commoners, would he? He was a high noble… By the way his brown-eyed valet (who had entered shortly after him) silently frowned, the brunet boy was having exactly the same thoughts.

The two other boys kept looking at them, probably expecting some reaction from their part. If the water basins filled with cloths were any indication, they had interrupted them in the middle of washing and tending to their wounds. The blond prince could see at least one of them with a bleeding cut in his left arm. Ryaen’ne was about to withdraw and go find the knight who had led them there to clarify the situation when one of the boys nodded, determined, and walked up to them.

“Iaell gaen, Maguenta am’ne tha.“ He greeted politely with a short bow in a strange heavy accent accompanying a somewhat high-pitched voice. Ryaen’ne looked surprised at the filthy boy with short black hair and very clear, ice-blue eyes. A little taken aback by the formal greeting he had only heard scarcely between generals and royal knights, he almost forgot to answer back. His valet was at a complete loss to what he should do, instead looking up to his prince for aid. With a short pause before speaking, Ryaen’ne tried to recall the right words he ought to respond.

“Yin tha. Maguenta le am’ne nai eh.” He finally said, not sure he had remembered right. Apparently he had, because the other boys nodded and bowed their heads. He bowed too and his valet followed his lead, bowing as well. Their greetings exchanged, the boy who had approached them spoke again.

“You must be the new recruits from the Capitol.” He said calmly with a friendly curl of lips. “I’m Lnorien.” He presented himself and then waved to the dark-skinned boy behind him. “This is Alsatia. We’ll be sharing these accommodations with you. Me and Alsatia have been here in the camp before, so if you need any help, you just tell and we’ll aid.” Ryaen’ne blinked at the tall boy and frowned at the contradiction in front of him.

Physically, that ice-eyed boy was a comical sample of what an Eth wasn’t like. He was tall like the Eths, but that was where his resemblances with the race ended. He was probably a child, a teenager at most, but he was obviously too tall for his age and overly thin. His body moved in an almost disjointed fashion, his face was too bony and his features undefined. Adding to his appearance, he had also that humorous high-pitched voice worsened by an almost incomprehensible accent. To put it shortly: he was ugly in every way.

However, his speech and his sharp, blue eyes, spoke of intelligence and knighthood beyond his age allied to an aura of deference that was very hard to miss, even for a child. That boy was not a commoner Eth. Ryaen’ne nodded, speechless for a moment. Well, apparently, they had put him in the right place after all.

“Before I tell you my name… I noticed you didn’t speak your families’ names. Why is that so?” The prince asked, trying to convey the same confidence he sensed from the other two more experienced knights. The dark-skinned boy, the one named Alsatia, arched his eyebrows surprised. Lnorien smirked shortly and nodded.

“You are right. We don’t mention our family names in the Eaar’ille to avoid favoritisms.” He answered simply. The prince nodded.

“I see. So, would yours compel preferential treatment?” He enquired boldly. Lnorien arched an eyebrow at the question. Then he looked up as if in thought.

“Not quite. Still, even if that had been the case, I’m here to become strong and dependable, not to be fawned upon.” He retorted with a good-humored smile in a clever way, managing not to answer the question at all.

Still, the subtle recriminating implication on those words wasn’t lost on Ryaen’ne. Turning his gaze to the floor, he recognized it had been his fault. His impulsiveness and curiosity had put the other boy in a difficult position. If said Eth had wanted to present himself as a noble, he had means of doing so in the first place, even without stating his family name. And if he wasn’t, well, the prince would just be dragging him down with his question, now wouldn’t he? Ryaen’ne had been extremely tactless on one hand.

On another, because he was in a privileged position in the royal court, he was used to everybody treating him in a special way, even during his training. And, somehow, despite the General’s warnings earlier that day, he still had been expecting some kind of partiality because of his lineage, here in the camp.

But the black-haired boy was right. He had come to Eaar’ille to become a true knight of Meya. Ryaen’ne was here to learn to defend himself and protect the ones he cared about. For that he needed to trust his companions and be trusted. Forced reverence was little more than protocol. If he wanted to be treated in a special way let it be because he was worth the privileged treatment.

Resolute, he looked up to the boy in front of him who was definitely wiser than his years. Something told him he had much to learn with him.

“Same here. Let’s hope we can become good friends.” He said honestly, with a friendly grin. “I’m Ryaen’ne.” He then turned to his valet who was watching him with a confused frown.

“I’m Henned. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The brown-haired boy stated, nonetheless. The other two nodded and smiled satisfied.

“The pleasure is ours.” The other two boys said in unison.

And so, humility, dedication and sacrifice were the first lessons Ryaen’ne learned in his training in the Eaar’ille. Those would be with him throughout his whole life, as well as the boy who had taught them to him. Lnorien.

&&&&&&&

«Eaar’ille Fortress – Thirteen years before»

The news of the scandal reached the Eaar’ille with a new wave of trainees from the south of Meya four months after it had happened. Awfully late for any of the related boys to do something about the scandal per say.

Yet, that was how Ryaen’ne learned of Lnorien’s family name and how Lnorien learned of Ryaen’ne’s.

The blond prince had managed to remain undiscovered in the military camp until then, three months into his training in the Eaar’ille. Making good friends with his tent-mates, he had learned that the boy named Lnorien was not only overly wise for his age; he was also a prodigy in about everything.

To the young Eth’s surprise, Lnorien was actually a year younger than him. But the dark-haired boy had been selected to the Eaar’ille two years before already, though. When he was little more than a toddler, short of completing five years old. The other southern Eth, Alsatia, had been recruited that same year, but he was five years older than the former.

Although the rest of the family disapproved, the ice-blue eyed boy’s father had forced his child to start learning military arts at four years old. A dictator patriarch by nature, said man allowed no one to contest his orders and so his son had entered training school that same year. The man also demanded excellence. But that hadn’t exactly been a problem for his son.

Able to read and write well since his three years of age and having read many scrolls already, Lnorien had even found his beginner classes somewhat poor in content, frequently studying alone or with the older trainees. Therefore, to show his strength to his never-pleased father, he decided to participate in the competition for children under ten years old the same year of his entrance with his older colleagues, namely Alsatia.

Due to his tall stature, he passed easily for the double of his age, managing to fool the judges who would never allow such a young boy to participate. The results had been shocking for everyone, including Lnorien himself.

Achieving an amazing first place in all categories, among hundreds of other candidates, he was highly praised for his fighting skills, his unpredictability and intelligent quick decisions. He was consequently immediately selected to the Eaar’ille together with Alsatia (who had placed second in the general rankings). All that before anyone even realized he was too young to participate in the competition, let alone endure said harsh training.

But, once more against better judgment, Lnorien’s father, also as a punishment for his son’s lack of decorum in fooling important Eths and defiance of rules, enforced the boy’s departure to the Eaar’ille. Thus, an exception was made and Lnorien left for the military camp few weeks later, for the first time with four years old. He was now attending the military training in the Eaar’ille for the third consecutive year.

The fact was that, in those three months, Ryaen’ne and his valet had learnt more with his two companions than in their actual training. Lnorien and Alsatia were effectively geniuses in tactics and a terror in combat, managing magic with ease and learning all kinds of weapons and martial arts quickly and without flaw.

They had different personalities, though. Alsatia was a straightforward and curious teenager while Lnorien was more serious and committed. But they had the same determination and bravery and, as such, they had already been granted the respect and admiration of many in the camp. And also the envy of many others, mainly the older trainees they were asked to help by the instructors and knights.

The closer a friend he became, the more Ryaen’ne began to realize a very curious and stupid thing. Lnorien was bullied. Not openly, of course. No one would be crazy enough to physically bully someone so strong. But some remarks about his looks were a common occurrence behind the older knights’ backs. Remarks, Ryaen’ne realized, that made Lnorien sad and Alsatia angry.

Not that they weren’t exactly true (Ryaen’ne had had the same thoughts when they had first met), but still, those were comments you made when you wanted to offend.

The thing that made Alsatia angry, and the worst fact, was that Lnorien didn’t do anything about it. And the subtle insults about his ugliness only increased with time. They became so mean that Ryaen’ne felt the constant need to shout his lineage to the guys to just shut them up and make them kneel down on the concrete floor with shame. Even Henned, who was usually very calm and patient, ended up punching a trainee in the stomach to defend the southern boy. But said boy, Lnorien, in that calm manner of his, always stopped the fights with unshakable serenity.

“I’m honored you’d be willing to fight for me, but there is no need. Let’s be honest: it’s not like they’re lying. And if the fact that I’m ugly makes them gain a little more self-confidence, at least it serves a purpose. Let’s forget them and concentrate on our training.”

However, despite Lnorien’s wise words, a conflict between the trainees was rising. Because, like Ryaen’ne and Henned, the boys who admired and respected the ice-eyed Eth still fought for him behind his back, finding the other trainees’ actions too intolerable and low for an Eth’s proper conduct.

Besides, Ryaen’ne knew the others didn’t realize it, but, sleeping in the same tent as Lnorien, he could tell that his looks were a source of unhappiness for the seven year old. For one who had always been forced to (and was used to) obtain perfection in about everything, having something about him so un-Eth-like, especially something he could do nothing to better was frustrating for the boy.

And those were some more useful lessons for the young prince. First, no one was perfect, and second, everything had a purpose. The trick was in learning to deal with imperfections and make the best out of them.

With seven years of age, Lnorien had already everything to become a great knight of Meya, but he was constantly struggling to achieve higher and surpass himself because of a single, apparently unimportant, thing he couldn’t change. Perhaps it had been his ugliness that had made him the humble, hard-working, kind, generous and peaceful boy he was, despite his strength and power.

One thing was certain, Ryaen’ne preferred a thousand times more to have that single, bony-faced kid beside him throughout his existence than a handful of those good-looking stupid trainees.

He felt lucky he could count on someone like Lnorien to be his friend. The ice-eyed boy was as clever and vigilant as Ryaen’ne was carefree and forceful. And when the prince’s traits put him in all kinds of trouble, it was usually Lnorien who came rescuing him with his unique character. Lnorien also had a witty way of reprimanding Ryaen’ne when that happened, making the prince feel truly sorry about what he had done wrong but not the least embarrassed. Like Lnorien used to say. They were all learning and they were still very young.

All in all, Ryaen’ne and Lnorien’s personalities were compatible in every way and their friendship was so strong already that the prince didn’t think anything could ever turn one against the other. Still, many happenings would try it.

And the news, which had just arrived from far-away Meya, was perhaps the greatest challenge their budding friendship would face.

The developments shocked everyone in the camp, knights and trainees alike. But no one more than the prince and his friend.

‘Sarjae of Meya, the beautiful fourth prince, had died while giving birth to a bastard child after being refuted by his intended due to his shameful pregnancy. This had also caused the Erephine heir to declare war to the King.’

Ryaen’ne and Lnorien had been dinning side by side when the whispered news spread out quickly throughout the gigantic table. Upon hearing the words, they both rose with a horrified ‘what?!’ coming out of their mouths, splattering the contents of their bowls all over the wooden table. The cook who had served them started chiding them about the mess, but neither of the boys seemed to hear him.

Ryaen’ne was standing, looking at the soiled table in front of him with a blank expression, not really seeing anything. Still in shock, he didn’t want to believe what he had heard. Bastard child?! Dead?! His uncle Sarjae, who was always so demure and beautiful?! It couldn’t be true.

Beside him, Lnorien clenched his fists on top of the table in an angry display.

“No, it can’t be!” He growled suddenly, waking the prince out of his stupor.

Pursing his lips in resolution, the ice-eyed boy got out of his seat, and ran to the General’s tent. Not really asking himself why Lnorien was acting that way, Ryaen’ne followed swiftly, probably intending, like Lnorien, to clarify the situation with who was better informed.

The two boys entered the tent at the same time, startling the several men inside. Almost forgetting their manners, they were about to start speaking when the General of the camp sighed and rose a hand, preventing the children from beginning their questions.

“This fortress is too small, I see, especially when I ask for secrecy.” He complained. The High priest next to him smiled bitterly while sending the remaining guards away with a silent wave of his hand. After the Eths had left and the High priest had sat beside the General, the latter indicated two cushions on the floor of the tent.

“Sit down, you two. As it concerns you both, I shall tell you what I know. Then you can ask all your remaining questions.” The two boys nodded and sat, trusting the honored General to provide them with the information he had and saved their enquiry for later. Ryaen’ne wondered for a moment how his uncle’s situation could concern Lnorien, but dismissed it immediately after. If that rumor was anything close to the truth, he knew he would be grateful he had his wise friend there, to support him.

“Apparently, prince Sarjae had been involved in an illegitimate affair with a low-class noble from the capitol for more than a year and a half before all of this happened. And, by the look of it, it wasn’t exactly platonic either.” He started. Ryaen’ne looked up at the man in surprise, but remained quiet.

The General continued, sounding a little off. “You certainly know what happens when an Ethen and an Eth have intercourse...” Lnorien nodded quickly but Ryaen’ne frowned.

“Intercourse?” he asked, genuinely confused. The General looked to the small prince and heaved a deep, suffering sigh. He was about to start explaining, but Lnorien saved him the trouble.

“It’s when babies are made, Ryaen’ne.” He said. Distracted by the new topic, the prince scowled.

“Uh? No, it’s not. My Ethenim told me that babi-” Lnorien turned to him with a sigh.

“I’ll explain later, Ryaen’ne.” He interrupted, patiently. “Now focus. What probably happened was that Lessin Sarjae got pregnant and the other father was the noble from the Capitol.” He stated. Ryaen’ne frowned but eventually nodded.

“Okay, I got it, I’m sorry. Please, continue, sire.” He asked, the matter forgotten for now. The General nodded and did as he was asked.

“That’s exactly what happened, Lnorien. But, instead of hiding it, Lessin Sarjae and the noble declared it to the King. This occurred about a year ago.”

Ryaen’ne looked at his folded hands in confusion and dread. He hadn’t known about any of this. Then again, he was a child. It wasn’t like he was informed about stuff like this. But he effectively remembered that his Ethenim had been unusually distracted and preoccupied about something in the months before he came to the Eaar’ille. Could it be this? Ryaen’ne wasn’t able to picture his beautiful uncle going against the LAW, but if this had happened, it was beyond shameful for their family. After all, Sarjae had been promised to the second Erephine heir.

“As both of you know, Lessin Sarjae was promised to the Erephine’s second heir.” The General confirmed, synchronized with Ryaen’ne’s thoughts. “In order not to lose face with the Erephine’s, our King agreed to their request to marry, but Lessin Sarjae would be disowned and his share of the royal treasure would be given to the Erephine’s second heir as an apology, to placate his anger.” Lnorien sighed and looked down.

“And still wasn’t enough…” he murmured bitterly.

Hearing him, the General shrugged.

“Because it didn’t quite unfold as the King was expecting.” He commented. “Apparently, the noble from the capitol and his family were only interested in the share of the royal treasure and not in Lessin Sarjae, himself. Nor the unborn baby, for that matter.” The two boys looked at the General, surprised.

“As soon as they realized Lessin Sarjae really would not get a single heirloom or piece of gold and had actually been striped from the protection of the royal family, they fled the capitol, fearing the Erephine’s wrath, and left the pregnant prince behind.” Ryaen’ne kept looking at the General, dreading the next phrase. Slowly, he realized that everything they had told them outside had been correct. The probability the other things were, too, was high, wasn’t it?! Something oppressing and uncharacteristically painful started growing inside his chest.

“By Maguenta. He left behind an Ethen pregnant with his own child? What kind of a man is able to do such a thing?!” Lnorien exclaimed, angered, clenching his right fist.

“The worst part was that, to avoid further scandal, the King tried to hide this from the Erephine’s. But they found out anyway and, feeling even more betrayed, broke the commitment and threatened to march into the Capitol with their armies to claim the independence of the south.” Ryaen’ne’s eyes widened as the pain in his chest increased.

“But that’s the same as declaring war to the north...” He said, frightened. Lnorien growled.

“I knew this would happen. That foolish man is blinded by his shallow grasp of power and stupid sense of pride!” He affirmed lowly.

“Don’t talk like that, boy!” The High priest admonished from his seat. Lnorien lowered his head with a whispered apology, but his eyes maintained their defiant spark. Next to him, the small prince had become restless with worry. Noticing the prince’s despair, the General decided to end the sad story, but not without a tone of bitterness in his voice.

“Well, as soon as Sarjae realized his lover was not coming back and that his country welfare was in danger because of him, he, shamed and desperate, traveled all the way to the south to plead with the Erephine’s but was not even allowed into the estate. On the way back, he disappeared and was found by southern knights, days after, dead in a temple with a newborn Ethen child in his arms…”

Ryaen’ne kept his head bowed low to hide his face with his short hair, but the silent tears could be seen falling from his eyes, nonetheless. The pain in his chest was too intense to disguise. His uncle had always been a constant presence in his household, and, despite the fact that he had always seemed somewhat superficial and too quiet, he had always behaved lovingly towards the little prince. He would miss his uncle.

Of course, Ryaen’ne understood his uncle had been the one at fault, but he didn’t deserve death because of it, did he? Somehow, he couldn’t stop himself from blaming the stupid Eth for abandoning his uncle or the Erephine family for not forgiving him when he had obviously been contrite about his actions. Ethen were supposed to be protected.

“I’m sorry, my child.” The High priest said softly from his seat, trying to comfort the boy with a gentle voice. Comprehending that Ryaen’ne was connected to the dead Ethen, Lnorien extended a hand to his shoulder in support. The prince turned to him, accepting his kindness with a sad smile and Lnorien, also feeling guilty, hugged his friend, letting him rest his head on his shoulder.

“What happened to the child? A precious Ethen child should be taken care of. Have a proper family...” The ice-eyed boy asked the General, who nodded.

“He was taken in by the Siekih. Ryaen’ne’s Ethenim, prince Fealiha, has taken him under his protection.” The blond rose from his bent position at that, a little proud of his parents. With a nod, he fought to stop his tears and tried to regain the lost composure while drying his eyes with the back of his hand. Lnorien looked surprised at his blond friend, but smiled sadly shortly after.

“Thank Maguenta. Finally someone good in this whole tragedy.” He said with one arm still around the blond prince’s shoulders.

“What about the Erephine? Have they backed out from their threats after what happened?” Ryaen’ne asked weakly, wiping his nose on his sleeve. The general and the High priest glanced at each other.

“Well, from what we know, no. Both the Erephine and the King are calling back their knights from the camps. No one knows exactly what is going to happen.” Ryaen’ne stopped abruptly and looked up at the two adults.

“So, there’ll be a war, after all?” He asked alarmed, with reddened dark blue eyes wide. It was the boy next to him who answered.

“No, there’ll be no war.” He said, voice calm and collected. “Not as long as I’m alive and kicking. He isn’t even thinking of the suffering he is causing inside his household, let alone outside. That self-centered, selfish man.” Ryaen’ne turned to Lnorien surprised by the cold fury in his tone. He didn’t understand who he was referring to. But the older Eths clearly did.

“Lnorie-“ The High priest started to admonish again, but the dark-haired boy interrupted him with a firm gaze. It was amazing how Lnorien could shut up a grown-up Eth with a simple look.

“I will not be shushed again. Nor will I stay put.” He declared, unyielding, his tone as icy as the color of his eyes. “This cannot continue. I am tired of watching that man’s ruthlessness and keep quiet about it. He is not the ruler of the whole world. Who does he think he is? Threaten the royal family?” The High priest sighed, troubled, while the General actually seemed satisfied with the black haired boy’s outburst. Ryaen’ne was simply amazed at Lnorien’s strength and resolve.

“He is only trying to defend the Erephine’s honor, my child.” The High priest commented. But Lnorien simply glared at him.

“Honor?” He asked, rhetorically, arching his eyebrows. “Everyone who was involved in this mess is suffering already. As are many who don’t have anything to do with it. What will a conflict accomplish? Where is the honor in making even more innocent people suffer? No, he’s doing this for his own petty revenge, because he doesn’t agree with the Capitol’s way of living.”

The High priest crossed his arms in front of his chest, exasperated.

“Lnorien, you are talking about your father!” He claimed. Ryaen’ne startled and gazed in Lnorien’s direction.

The boy huffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me of that sad fact.”

“Your father?!” Ryaen’ne asked weakly, still a little slow on the taking after so many things happening that day. Upon hearing him, Lnorien’s fierce expression fell. Instead he frowned in sadness and bitterness. He turned to his friend and nodded, ashamed.

“I’m sorry, Ryaen’ne. I’m the son of the Erephine heir.” He said, his tone low and regretful. “The man who was indirectly responsible for your uncle’s death. Please accept my deepest apologies for the grieving and pain my family has brought to your household. I know they mean little, now, but…” The prince stood there, surprise taking hold of his mind and body, while regarding the kneeling boy in front of him. Lnorien had virtues and flaws, but he was his friend. A good friend. One of the best he had in the world. He was more his friend than perhaps Sarjae had ever been. Did their family names and a sudden confusion between their families change that? Change who they both were and what they meant to each other?

Lnorien, with his body almost touching the floor in bowing and his sincere, remorseful words put Ryaen’ne in a difficult position. He was not ready to forgive the Erephine, with the threat still going on and all, but Lnorien, Lnorien had done nothing wrong. Lnorien had nothing to apologize for. The blond boy remained in silence not knowing what to say to his friend. Misinterpreting the young prince’s silence, the young Erephine decided to explain his family situation.

“It was my uncle who was promised to yours, but it’s my father who was responsible for all this, I’m sure.” He started in his high-pitched voice, his tone waving, reflecting the sadness and anger swimming in his eyes. “My uncle loved Lessin Sarjae into craziness. He would do anything for him. Even accept a child from another man, I’m certain. But my father is a conceited man and, you realize, that would be too much of an affront to his power and leadership, so he would never allow it. My uncle doesn’t have the strength to oppose my father. No one in my family has. He is the indisputable, almighty heir. His word is law. He is certainly the one responsible for all this mess. No one has the courage to defy him.”

Ryaen’ne looked down at his hands, still not knowing what to say.

“No one except you.”

It was the General who spoke, directing his commentary to Lnorien, not without some pride coloring his voice. The boy raised his head and nodded, decided.

“I’ve done it before and I’m sure I’ll do it again.” He said, firmly. The General nodded, with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll travel to Meya tomorrow. The Erephine will back out from this threat, I give you my word.” Lnorien concluded, grabbing the young prince’s shoulder. Ryaen’ne frowned.

“But you are only a child…” he stated. The prince had never even thought of defying his own father, much less act on it. How could Lnorien, one year younger than him, have a saying in his father’s decisions, when he was such an authoritarian man? Wouldn’t he get in trouble? Lnorien smiled at his friend’s worry.

“Yes I am, but I’m also HIS only child, for now. And the next heir. Whatever power I have in the Erephine household, I will use it. They will listen to me. I promise!” Ryaen’ne nodded, trusting in his friend. He had that same expression he got when faced with a difficult spell or technique. And when he said he would manage it, he always did. With flying colors.

“Very well, I will assemble an escort for you, Lnorien. Prepare to leave tomorrow at dawn.” The General said. The young Erephine nodded and the older Eth turned to the prince.

“Your Ethenim sent this letter to you, Ryaen’ne. You will stay with us until this mess is cleared, as by your father’s request. The farther you are from the conflict, the better. Have Henned with you at all times, though.”

The blond boy took the scented, sealed piece of folded paper that the General extended to him and bowed in thanks. And, with the General’s permission and nothing else to be said, the two boys left the tent.

Later in the evening, after reading the letter his Ethenim had sent him, Ryaen’ne felt immensely guilty. Besides the tragedy of his uncle’s death (which his Ethenim didn’t explain in detail, of course), the letter also revealed great news. Joyful news. One thing he had wanted for a very long time now. Since Delaen’niel had got one, Ryaen’ne had wanted one too. Now, it had finally been his turn. And the guilt came because he was happy. So happy, he felt guilty about it. As a rush of water, the other things he felt at fault for came to his mind. One of those was not telling Lnorien he had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t want his friend to go on his journey thinking Ryaen’ne was angry at him.

So, when he saw Lnorien returning from outside to wash for bed, he approached the black haired boy. Sensing the other behind him, Lnorien turned with a soft curling of lips and an expectant expression. Ryaen’ne fidgeted a little in his place, but eventually found the words he wanted to say.

“I wanted to tell you I’m not disappointed with you because you’re an Erephine.” He started, sincere. “The Erephine family name is great now because in the past people like you were born in it. You elevate your family to a place, nor your father, nor your uncle can reach, and it’s you who’s going to make your family’s name grand again. What I mean is, we will always be friends and you have nothing to apologize for. You did nothing wrong. More, you are trying to make things right for the sake of everyone, and that just shows how great you are. Thank you for everything.” He concluded with a short bow, not certain he had been able to convey what he had intended. Lnorien, stunned, but at the same time, moved with his friend’s words, smiled at the blond boy and not knowing what to say, simply bowed in return.

However Ryaen’ne had not finished yet. The Erephine had not been the only ones wrong. It had been his uncle Sarjae who had started the conflict with his illicit affair. And Lnorien, for who he was and what he was doing to help them, deserved an apology regarding the insult made to his family. As a member of Sarjae’s family, it was up to Ryaen’ne to give it.

“I also wanted to apologize to you for my uncle’s behavior. He disgraced himself, but he also dishonored his commitment with your family. I don’t care about your father and uncle, but if there are any more people like you in your family, you deserve my apologies for his disrespect.” He declared, honestly. Lnorien stared at him for a moment in silence, but then looked sideways, scratching the back of his neck in childish embarrassment.

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” He uttered, lightly, with a short scoff. “I mean, you can’t blame an Ethen for something like that. You can’t help who you fall in love with. If you ask me, what happened was expected.” He affirmed. Ryaen’ne frowned, not understanding. The young Erephine hurried to explain his thoughts.

“My uncle is ugly and ghoulish like me.” He provided along with an apparently disinterested shrug, but his voice sounded very sad. “A beautiful Ethen, who is used to be surrounded by beautiful things and handsome Eths like you, can’t possibly like Eths like us. It was impossible from the start. That’s why I don’t intend to marry, at least not a noble Ethen. With my looks, I’d be chancing it as well.” He finished with a short laugh, but Ryaen’ne could tell Lnorien didn’t find that humorous at all. Nor did the prince. In fact, the blond boy frowned in displeasure.

“Don’t say tha-” He was about to rebuke, but Lnorien interrupted him with a hand on his shoulder and a smile on his lips.

“I’m glad. You look livelier and happier than before. Your Ethenim’s letter was a good thing.” He commented, changing the subject. Ryaen’ne let it drop and nodded, though feeling guilty still.

“He wrote of good news, as well.” He said. Lnorien arched his eyebrows, curious.

“Good news?” He asked. Ryaen’ne nodded, his dark blue eyes shining with delight.

“Yes, besides my uncle’s child, it appears I’m going to have a little brother, too. My Ethenim’s pregnant.”


Tbc...


Ending notes: HAHA, this was supposed to be a short PWP between Delaen and Rya…But then Lnorien decided he wanted to participate too (not in the PWP, mind you) and I snatched the opportunity to explain some things of the storyline I haven’t been able to incorporate in the main story. Still, I hope you don’t mind, boring_neko19. The part you requested is coming, I promise... :) Thank you so much for your encouragement and patience!! And deep thanks to all of you who review and rate my stories!

Iaell, gaen, Maguenta am’ne tha. – Eth language. A very polite old greeting between knights in the Eth army. By saying this Lnorien is treating them as high warriors already, instead of the trainees they are. Translates as: Good greetings knights. Maguenta accompanies you. (If they are seeing the knights is because they are safe and sound and as such, Maguenta has accompanied them.)

Yin tha. Maguenta le am’ne nai eh. – Eth language. Ryaen’ne answers back appropriately. Translates as: And you. May Maguenta be with us all.

Ethenim – Eth language. Translates as something akin to ‘mother’, ‘matriarch’.

Lessin – an honorific like Lord or Lady, but which refers to Ethen only.

Eth/Ethen – for clarifications please go to www.edyane.webs.com or you can ask me :).