A Prologue Fit For Royalty

Ruehnar's "Forever A Prince"

The sky was clear and bright that morning. It was a beautiful day. Rune was distracted, unable to keep himself from staring out the windows as his tutors droned on. Rune finished his studies early that day, and urged Rowyn to do the same. "Let's go hunting! I need to get out of here." He pleaded later, desperate for the temporary escape. It had only been the day before that Rune had ended his relationship with the spring Eladrin, Alyana. A future with a commoner was unacceptable for a King. His advisors' suggestions had been to make her a mistress, and he could never do that. He would never dare to ask. Rowyn had never been one to turn him down, so when he asked to leave, she had agreed. She would later recall that she had never seen him look quite so desperate. Ruehnar wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, and thanked her profusely.

It wasn't long before they were both on the road, the hooves of their horses clattering against the stone as they swept through the courtyard towards the forest with haste. Rune gripped the leather reins tight in one hand as he adjusted his bow on his back, and checked his quiver. His hands trembled, a rare sight. His were red and swollen. His horse, a mighty gray beast named Belegroc, jumped to the side abruptly, dodging a fenceline that he had inadvertently steered it towards. Behind him, Rowyn let out a yelp as she saw Rune's body jolt. Too deep in his troubles, he had nearly toppled from his mount.

"Rune!" Rowyn cried out from behind him, but he made no attempt to slow down. They weren't far enough away yet. The two siblings continued through the woods for what seemed like a thousand strides. His horse's legs pumped steadily beneath him, having no trouble with his frantic commands. Through his clouded mind, Rune came to the realization that he was leading them straight to the spring-summer village where his dreams had both started and shattered. Without warning, he pulled the horse to a stop. His sister's outraged shriek sounded from behind Rune as her horse nearly skidded into his. Asavari, the yellow horse Rowyn was so fond of, was surefooted and quick. The horse kept them upright, somehow.

"Ruehnar Vanairra! What has gotten into you?" She chastised, quickly dismounting. She stomped up to Belegroc and snatched the reins out of his hands. "Off, now." With no other choice, he obeyed. He swung his leg over the back of his saddle somewhat numbly, and when his boots hit the ground flatfooted, he didn't even feel the shock that ran through his legs.

"I'm okay." He promised, halfhearted in his attempt at persuasion. His sister looked suspicious, but made no complaint as she followed after him on foot, the reins of both horses in her hands. She knew when arguing would be useful, and at that moment it did not seem like it would help. The siblings trekked forward a mile or two more on foot, silent except for the occasional clumsy footfall that crunched the autumn leaves and the snorting of the horses. At some point, Rune pulled the bow from his back, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the carvings he had made. There were so many that they extended from both limbs of the bow, and were creeping towards the center of the grip.

His heart tightened in his chest as his thumb brushed the single periwinkle flower he had carved so many months before. The flower had been a promise, and it had been a promise he had failed to uphold. For the first time in hours, Rowyn piped up. "What's the story behind that one?" Her voice was soft and gentle, just like she was. Rune stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his sister. He hadn't noticed before how bedraggled she looked. Her red hair was falling out of its braid, and her green eyes were tired and cautious. He had done that, and he quickly realized with a pang of gut-wrenching guilt that he owed her an explanation. "It means that I failed, Wynnie. Nothing in the entire kingdom, not even the King himself with all of his influence, can fix what I have destroyed." Rowyn didn't respond. She didn't know what to say to that. Ruehnar sighed heavily. So much guilt was on his shoulders... but none of his training had prepared him for that feeling.

Recently, Rune had been teaching his sister how to track game through the forest. She was picking it up, and he realized with proud delight that she was starting to learn quicker. She was beginning to notice things without his prompting. Important details like scuffs in the dirt, blemishes on the otherwise untouched scenery. It didn't take her long to notice things after he noticed them. As distracted as they both were, however, Ruehnar with his inner turmoil and Rowyn with her worry for her brother and the two horses she held in her hands, the duo failed to notice several marks that should've caught their eyes as they tread deeper and deeper into the dark, uncharted forest surrounding their home.

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Massive clawed feet fell silently on the forest floor. Mere meters ahead were two elven hunters and their steeds. He had been tracking them for miles, waiting until they were just distracted enough. He had no need for the elves, only for the horses. He could easily make a feast out of a single of their hooved companions. He'd drag the beast back to his den to feed his mate and his cubs. If he could take down the second... They'd be well-fed for days. He was tired of the wolves and foxes. It'd been a while since such good prey had wandered into his territory. The gray mount was thick, and proud. It would be harder to take down. But the yellow one... It would serve its purpose well. The owlbear's beak salivated at it's hopeful prospects. He remembered the hungry yipping of his cubs in their den, and it urged him forward to make his move.

The hulking mass of feathers and fur stalked forward, its nostrils pulling in short, quiet breaths. The scent of the elves was unappealing, but the horses they had with them caused the feathers on the back of his trunk-like front legs and around his head to stand on end. His wide, black pupils shrank as he walked, taking in less of the bright sunlight streaming through the forest canopy. His vision focused just in time for his stomach to twist with a sickening tightness. He was desperate. Pure instinct drove him on. Large, clawed paws dragged noiselessly along the forest floor. The muscles around his beak flexed and clenched, causing it to open and close with a quiet click, click, click sounds. The gray horse perked one ear up in his direction, though it didn't seem to react. The yellow one, though... it didn't move. The owlbear continued forward, just 15 feet from the two mounts. It was barely discernible in the shadows cast by the trees and the thick underbrush. So focused on the prey ahead of him, he misjudged his steps. A paw landed poorly, causing a branch to snap underfoot.

The elves spun to face him. The male had an arrow nocked with what seemed like impossible speed. The owlbear roared angrily, furious with itself, and took that moment to charge forward. The gap between predator and prey was closed almost instantly. His back legs bunched up beneath him and he launched himself at the small yellow horse. Claws outstretched, the force of his weight caused the beast to fall. The female elf screamed as the horse's tether was yanked from her grasp. His claws savagely lacerated the throat of his prey, cutting the creature off mid-scream. He reveled as fresh, red blood poured between his claws.

His joy was abruptly interrupted as an arrow thunked into his flank. He jerked his large head up to see his assailant. The male elf. Of course, it couldn't be easy. With a snarl, he hurled himself at the male elf. The elven people were quick, though. The swift-footed male dodged with ease, already nocking another arrow mid-movement. He let the arrow fly just as the owlbear leapt toward him. It struck the creature in the throat, just missing one of the major veins; this did little to slow the hungry predator down. Its paws came down on the elf's chest, a dull crack reverberating through his body as either branch or bone gave way beneath the massive weight now on his chest. The owlbear stood for a moment, as if relishing in his victory, then roared in Rune's face.