tradition

It was cold, which in and of itself was not so much a problem.

It was more the matters of the unknown. The peaks looked different and the land was not all that familiar underfoot. Yet there was one distinct thing that was familiar. A strong mark across the land. She could not mistake it for anything other than —

“@Lucian?”

Her awakened voice echoed out into the packed snow, it weaved through the trails that had begun to be worn into pack lands.

She was owed an explanation.

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Lucian felt lost without her. His sun and moon had disappeared from her bed that morning, her scent but a faded whisper in the frigid air. Vanille was gone, and there was nothing the man could do to change that.

The Fates had pulled many from their beds in the silence of the night, for reasons the prince was not privy to. But the young prince knew better than to question the actions of the Fates. He was but a mortal in the grand scheme of the Fates' games, a pawn they moved as they wished. Luc had no right to know.

The kralj had fled to the north, long before the sun woke. He craved solitude, craved the frigid touch of winter's breath. Luc wanted to feel something. His heart had frozen over without the warmth of his sun, began to allow Étienne's whispers to hook themselves within him. Lucian was changing; his heart was changing. And there was nothing to be done—no one to change the storm brewing within the man.

His paws carried the man down the peak when the sun had finally crested the horizon, signaling the incoming morning. While the whispers grew louder in the silence of the dawn, a voice called out his name. Lucian paused, ears flickering. He had to be losing his mind. No one ever came this far north, the cold often chasing them away before they reached the highest point.

But then the scent came to him. A scent he remembered from his youth. From before his mother's death. The owner was one he'd trust with his life, one he knew would never betray him.

"Dunja!" He called, his smoky voice echoing over the mountainside. Either he had grown delusion in his solitude, or the Fates had blessed him with family.

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skill: outrider

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A voice called out and at once she expected to see a boy. Fresh faced and removed from harm. Perhaps it was projection. For she felt like a girl in that moment. Little and wispy, begging to hear whatever gossip might have spilled forth from royal lips. Never did they spill beyond her own though. What was said to her was kept to her.

No, she guarded them closely.

Her own heart had been ice far longer. Glacier walls built to guard herself and others.

“Lucian,” Her voice was more certain now, less confused by the whimsy of everything. She still had plenty of questions that she wanted answers to first but here was a trusted face, in the flesh. A welcome relief even if her features never moved beyond composed looks.

Her strides were purposeful and pointed, her path set upon him now.

“I believe you have some explaining to do, rođak — cousin.”

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His heart stopped hearing that voice. It was her. The blonde woman before him seemed like an oasis, a figment of his imagination. A picture his tired mind painted to soothe his pain. There was no possible way this was truly his childhood friend.

"Dunja? What, how did you get here?" He asked, his ears flickered back. This had to be some sort of hallucination. There was no way his cousin had been brought to this place. Why was she brought here? Was it yet another punishment for his past sins? A punishment for the thoughts in his head?

A chuckle at her words. "I am glad to see you too, sestrična. — cousin" Lucian bumped his head against hers, a smile pulling at his lips. He was no longer alone in Risnjak. He had family again.

"Come. I will explain everything on the way, sestrična. There is much to tell you." Lucian hummed as he turned onto the path back to the center of Risnjak. Dunja would do well here with him. She was a strong mind, an intellect who knew the unspoken rules of court. They will be able to forge an empire worthy of their family names.

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skill: recruiter

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“I am always where I am meant to be. Do not doubt me.” Her voice a tease.

It was better than the pungent truth of not knowing how she had arrived. That she had somehow seemingly slipped here as if she had come in with the fresh snows and the icy air. Dunja did not like to feel rattled. It would be best to simply move on and carry forth with her life like it was any other day.

Admittedly, this might have been a welcomed change of pace from what her days had become.

A moment shared, temple to temple. Had they been children still she might have gathered herbs to lay at his feet in exchange for words. Instead she now had nothing. Nothing besides him and the hopes that he would not mind that she needed to rebuild herself. That her worth laid only in the trust between them and that nothing physical had come with her beyond her own flesh.

It was why she was near obedient for the moment, quick to keep up with his long limbs.

“Where will you start? Perhaps with what you have made? The scent of you is suffocating over the snowfall, I will have much work to do.”

She was no guardian, but it was not entirely unknown that Dunja had a way of leaving her own presence. That she influenced each and every little thing she came into contact with — the land would be no different.

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The moment the joy left his body, Lucian's demeanor shifted into one of cold indifference. The past was slowly coming to the man; many forgotten memories now materializing in his mind. The sights and sounds felt vivid, as if they were happening again. Lucian squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to keep himself calm.

"I never do, my dear cousin." He replied, gaze locked on the path before them. He couldn't have Dunja see the fight he knew would be evident in his eyes. But he was sure her attentiveness would pick up on the shift in his tone. Dunja was not like others.

There were things Dunja did not know about him. Things Lucian kept from everyone, even the one he grew to care for. No one knew what Étienne forced him to do, of who they were truly serving. Dunja was thankfully kept in the dark, and the man intended to keep her there.

The war had changed him. He was no longer the boy she knew. The one eager to learn at his father's side or willing to play in the forest near their home. No, he was now a hardened man. Littered in scars his cousin would never be able to see. Plagued by sins, he could not remember or, rather, did not want to remember. Lucian had done things. Things he regretted. Things he knew had to be done, or else he would be punished.

Things were different, but Luc would do his best to hide it, even if he had to force a laugh and a smile. "We will begin growing our numbers. We are not much of a threat with just the two of us, cousin," A soft chuckle fell silent as Lucian kept leading the woman towards the center of his domain. "I have been alone for some time now, Dunja. It makes sense for Risnjak to drown in my scent rather than many."

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skill: recruiter

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His gaze was elsewhere, as if he wished to no longer look upon her and recall things.

Perhaps she had overexaggerated her importance in his life. Perhaps the man he had grown into was far removed from the children they had been. Was it her or had outside forces done something beyond her knowledge?

A bitterness coiled in her stomach — not towards him, but towards the unknown. How could she ever truly help if she was an outsider? But she had to trust his word (she always would) like it was gospel. Surely he still held true trust in her. He would not lie so boldly.

“A single body has never built a kingdom.” Her gaze fluttered away from him, so that she would not crush him beneath her hard stare. Content to look at the path he led them down. “You must only tell me what you wish for me to do, where you wish for me to be.” Dunja had already known that being an advisor was not simply the place of just advising. She must support, she must wear many hats to promote the royal throne. Politician, guardian, trained ear.

Her hunger to support the throne had never been higher than when he was the one sitting upon it.

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Lucian reveled in the icy touch of the morning winds, a sharp pain that kept him grounded at the moment. Ever since Vanille's disappearance, he'd often find himself drowning in his memories of before. The screams still echoed when he was alone. He sometimes still felt the sharp burn of teeth against his skin. While Lucian had come to this land unmarked, his body still remembered the past, recalled a time when he was constantly healing from a skirmish.

Lucian could sense Dunja's heavy gaze and knew she would be expecting an answer to his shift in demeanor. But there was nothing to say. Luc had never told a soul what had happened during that time or of the things he'd done. They were secrets he was going to keep. Memories he kept locked in a box and hated to think of.

A huff left the man at her words. "No, but I've seen how a single body has destroyed one." He replied, words as cold as their environment. Lucian didn't want Dunja to pry or ask questions he was unsure he had the answers to. "Let us do what we were raised to do, Dunja." Lucian murmured, trying his best to ignore the tension he had created between them. It was an answer he hoped satisfied her curiosity. There were no words he could say that would be enough.

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skill: recruiter ; struggled with this im so sorry !

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