Hands folded behind his back, the young Ranger, in a wine tunic this time, strolled through the furthest gardens of the castle. Where he knew he'd get peace and could be alone with his thoughts for a while. Most importantly how he could convince his father to call the marriage off, even though the treaties were already drawn up. Perhaps he'd be able to convince him by underlining the importance of romance in a marriage, that without it he might never be able to sire a child.
Of course had he still had the love of the young woman in Redmont, he would've led with that. But she hadn't felt the same and even though he hadn't made peace with that, he wouldn't bother her further like that. He found that maybe he'd pressured her too much before. If, only when she would initiate it.
"Good day, troublemaker," A firm female voice called out behind him.
Silently he rolled his eyes and made a face that mirrored his feelings very well. Then he turned with a polite smile. It was the girl from the corridor a few days prior, the one he'd disliked so very much. This time in a dress that looked dangerously similar to the one she'd worn then, but he knew better than to ask if it was indeed the same. Years of living with his apprentice had taught him that to women, it was a world of difference. Once she'd held up two dresses she had bought, both dark green and had been so offended when he hadn't seen that the necklines were different and that obviously the v- shape was more flattering. That was the very apparent reason why she'd spent her weekly allowance of a few months on it, of course. Instead of getting the new night gown she'd so desperately needed. Her reply to that had been that she had the pick out of his comfortable shirts, with a sweet as sugar grin and the bat of an eyelash.
None of that kind of warmth radiated on the red haired Pictian woman in front of him. Her red hair was bound in two tails, enclosed by silver ribbons. Her figure was childlike, with no forms, some that had yet to come. She could not have been older than sixteen he realized in horror. Her nose, sharp like a spear, sniffled and the corners of her thin mouth turned down as she looked him up and down.
"And to you." Gilan greeted, gritting his teeth as soon as she'd moved to accept the arm he'd held outstretched. Regrettably he was to walk with her now, as the rules of court had it. Etiquette called for the gentlemen to invite the women they encountered and knew.
"We've not yet been introduced formally, but seeing as we are to be married not long from now, I see no trouble in accepting your arm," she remarked haughtily as they took into the more lived in gardens.
That woman, no- girl, was to be his wife. The tall mans eyes dimmed, growing duller with every step, every second he had to let the realities sink in. Anger boiled in his veins, towards the red head, his father, her father, everyone actually. Even the gravel pebbles on the path, which he kicked with violence normally only found on a battlefield.
In his years of training with Halt, the greying Ranger had also taught him a thing or two about bluffing, keeping a straight face, never revealing what hides behind your face. Putting up a mask, he smirked, halted and kissed the lady's hand.
"Well then allow me to introduce myself, Gilan Davidson, son of the high commander of the King's armies." His heart stung like acid the whole time and disgust at himself roamed his mind. Even though they weren't together anymore, he still felt guilt. Still it felt like nails on a chalkboard to his soul.
With an amused snort, she curtsied swiftly. "Enox Picard, daughter of Lord Picard, Picta's most feared warrior."
Feigning a smile, Gilan raised his brows a bit. "Oh really?" the sarcasm dripped from his voice, like blood off a blade, "I find that hard to believe."
Her grey eyes narrowed sharply, "I do hope that is wit, because if not you are free to duel him at any time. I shall find your death good entertainment."
"You are so sure he would win? You've never seen me fight." He asked, not giving away his training with MacNeil or his ten years experience as a Ranger. Granted, five of them had been his apprenticeship, but it still counted as experience to him.
"I have seen him win battles by showing up on the battlefields. The other clans tremble at his very sight, knowing very well they won't survive the battle. Mostly he finishes them off for their cowardice. He turns their blood into dye for our clothes," she swiveled around her petticoat, "Do you like this color?"
"It suits you," he replied flatly, his insides definitely turning at that thought. No wonder his court always wore red. It seemed wise to tell his father about this revelation, because this might very well show that a treaty with them wasn't wise. That the wisest thing would be to create a legion and keep it ready for whenever they were going to attack. And they were, he was sure of that.
"Our people are very glad to have him rule Oryis, no other man could unite in the other clans. You shall like them very much, my people," for the first time her tone softened as falling snow, "Most of them are very stubborn, but are so smart. There isn't anyone in our lands who can't read, unlike here. And in the winter, oh you should see our Winter tree."
Gilan's interest was spiked. He'd never heard much about the warrior folk from the north, only that they loved war and planned to reconquer Araluen and Celtica one day. With Ranger's ears he listened to her tales and made mental notes.
"As a little girl I always dreamed my puppet would go on top," Enox sighed, her thoughts in a different time, a different place, "but it never got chosen. Always it was Mary's, as her father was the commander. Oh how that changed once father got to power, last year after that cissy Macintosh was put down."
At that she chuckled and let her head down a bit, just long enough for the young man in the wine tunic to see a strange marking on her neck. He couldn't make out exactly what it was, but it did seem odd, like something between a mother male and a tattoo. The Ranger had missed the remark about the change of powers in the city he'd visited not so long ago.
The eloped two turned into the path that headed for the courtyard, where multiple carriages already cluttered the square. People who had come for their marriage, to watch the tournament that was a celebration leading up to it. Seven days, and at last the groom himself was to duel.
Relief washed over him, as he recognized one of the transports to be of his swords master: Macneil. The other two he remembered vaguely, one of Macneil's brother, the other of a nobleman from the south. But someone he knew very well stepped out of one of those carriages, more elegantly than he'd seen before.
A/N:
Sooo, my head is not on my shoulders right now with school and everything... I literally forgot the Author's note pfftt. Thanks to usselless I could still make one!!! Love you ❤️❤️ okay so question for today: What hobbies do you have? (besides reading/ writing of course😉)
Mine are ballet, horse riding, sims 3 (NOT 4), wii, aquarel painting, drawing, editing (used to be more but I don't really have an editing program anymore) and now school, I guess? (Does buying books with pretty covers even though I have them already count as well?)
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𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑎𝑤𝑛 | 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍
Fanfiction[[𝖂𝖊𝖊𝖐𝖑𝖞 𝖚𝖕𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘]] "𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦." 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧�...
