Sevensworn

I. Long Forgotten

Had it not been for the wind, Prince Ronan Aldrea would have fallen asleep long ago. The howling gales coming up from the valleys and the tumultuous thoughts he had gone to the ridge to escape were the only things keeping his exhaustion at bay. He had first ventured out into the snow hours ago, where he had been met with the temperamental weather typical of the Adacian mountains, and had lingered silently until the sun fell low in the sky.

The land, scattered with towns and ruins that he couldn't quite see through the fog, was what he had truly gone outside to see. Home felt closer when he was looking in its general direction, but at that moment even the capital, Adacia Proper, could not be seen on the horizon despite its reaching towers and the smoke from the continued Rhydellan assault. No matter how hard he looked, nothing came into focus; he eventually relented, sitting back and drawing lazy patterns in the snow with the tip of his finger. The threat of sleep at that moment seemed even more prominent than that of his impending fate.

As the shrouded sun fell red over the mountains and threw its bloodied touch over the snow, Ronan sighed, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back against the rough bark of an ancient pine. The dying light offered a comforting warmth, a stark contrast to the gales that dislodged snow from the branches above him. He let sleep creep up on him. Without opening his eyes, he knew a storm was coming, there was a certain taste on the wind—

The toe of a boot connected with his own. His head flew up, his eyes wide and alert until they fell on his well-meaning assailant. So much for sleep.

"Don't look so startled," Acaeus said, exhaling heavily as he dropped down to sit beside him, resting his sword across his knees. "It's only me."

"I didn't know you'd be back from patrol before dark." Ronan shook his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. "You could have warned me, you know."

"I thought you heard me coming."

Acaeus stretched out his legs, reaching up a sluggish hand and tugging curls of white hair from his bun. It fell down around armored shoulders, the length a break in the Circle's code of dress that would have been an issue had they not been miles from anyone who was strict enough to care. Ronan looked back out over the sky while his mind remained fixed on the trivial aspects of his companion's demeanor. Even with Acaeus' admittedly careless adherence to the Circle's vows, he still managed to appear regal—even now, five years after they'd met, it still managed to awe him.

Had Ronan commented on the knight's 'regality,' he would have thrown back his head and laughed, undoubtedly following it with the brief line he always recited when Ronan got too close to the tale of his upbringing: "I am the farthest thing from noble, highness."

"How was it out there?" Ronan nodded toward the direction Acaeus had emerged from—there was a trail in the snow that led out into the forest of pine surrounding Solthorne, and judging by Acaeus' haggard appearance, Ronan would guess he had been out since morning.

"Cold," Acaeus muttered. His pale skin was indeed flushed from the biting air. "That's the only thing I miss about Rhydel—the sun actually provided heat."

Ronan snorted, but couldn't deny that Adacia's winters were harsh. He himself had a thick cloak spread over his body to protect him from the chill in the air, while Acaeus had been stubborn enough to leave the keep in only his armor and a scarf.

"Find anything?"

"I landed a deer. I handed it off to Wynne when I returned." Acaeus slumped back against the trunk of the tree and shut his eyes, his words clouded with exhaustion. "Nothing at the Reach, though. You'd think one of these ruins would have something, especially that shitty old monastery, but they're all just piles of stone and paper too ancient to read." His lips curled into a frown. "I hate the Reach. It makes my skin crawl, but I suppose places like that always do."