it was a windy night as the rain poured down massively over the knights where they slept in the woods in their beds made out of a mound of pine needles, heather and dry leaves, it was the only bed the woods could afford. hoping to recover from their recent battle before heading home the next morning. The soldiers beds rested near a bonfire regaining spirits and energy for the next day. England's head knight, Sir Aden, had led his men for twenty-three years, hoping to finally put an end to the horrifying streak of bloodshed. He had forgotten what it felt like to be around his family, as he hadn't seen his wife or daughter for years.
Aden was a tall, fit knight with brown hazel eyes and long, black hair. His face hid behind a long, dark unshaved beard; evidence of the war's effect on him. Visions of innocent men, women, and children being killed haunted him day and night. These constant nightmares had blurred out the memories of his family, replacing it with that of the blood and death of the innocent who were locked up and torched. He often stood awake staring at the stars, wondering if the tainted blood or stench of death would ever fade. The one thing he hated most was the one thing he was best at. Being the most accomplished and feared knight of England was finally taking its toll.
Aden was raised by the sovereign-to-privileged status. After training as a page and squire, he became a beautiful, noble knight and got married to Adelaide. Adelaide, which means noble in French, was a tall, skinny, a light-skinned beauty with gorgeous light blue eyes that lit up the sky and light silky blonde hair that ran all the way down her back. She was a very humble woman who came from a very poor family. The union produced a daughter, Catherine, which meant pure in French—a small, skinny girl with light blue eyes identical to her mother and long black hair just like her father. Apart from her hair, she resembled her mother in every little detail. Her warm smile and charming, humble personality were all traits passed on to her from Adelaide.
Aden, on the other hand, came from a high-class wealthy family from England. It was the one secret he would live and die with. Aden knew that if any one of his fellow knights found out about his wife's race, she'd be executed. This was also the reason why Aden stayed so close to the king. He needed to know everything the king knew. Right below Aden's rank was Frederick. He was a tall, light-skinned man, his long, straight, dark brown hair reaching all the way down to the middle of his back, he wore a mustache that twisted up into a curl at each end.
He enviously regarded Aden, wishing and believing that he deserved the glory and pride more than Aden ever had. Although they seemed like good friends, deep down inside him, Frederick despised Aden. It was finally time to go home. Aden was content with the simple satisfaction of knowing he'd see his family again. It was the real reason he fought fearlessly. His family meant all to him, and if blood had to be shed to see them, so be it.
The woods were dark and cold, covered with brown long trees with long branches that which extended through the air. Seen from a far on such a dark night could easily scare the weakest of minds. They seemed more like giant protectors, than simple trees. Each branch gently moving with the push of the unforgivable wind.
Frederick walked over and patted him on the back. "Well, brother, it seems yet another victory to our favor," Frederick curved a cocky smile, while his eyes glowed with delightful greed. Aden grasped onto a thin, silver cross that dangled around his neck and pulled it close, kissing it. As he glanced at it, his eyes filled with joy. "What's that?" Frederick grinned. Aden pulled back the cross protectively, and then stared over at Frederick smiling, wondering if could he trust him or not. This was the only weakness Aden had! He trusted anyone and everyone. It didn't matter whether it was a knight, a child, or a civilian; he believed everyone was innocent, so Aden passed over the silver cross to Frederick. After all, this was the one man that he trusted for twenty-three long years of battle. It was the one person that may have saved his life every now and then. Aden figured if he couldn't trust him, who could he trust? Frederick grabbed the cross and glanced at it curiously while scheming carefully. "So, what's the deal with this? Does it hold some sort of special meaning?" Frederick rose both eye brows in curiosity. Aden smiled, still not having full trust in Frederick.
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In Between
FantasyFor the past thirty years Aden has devoted his life to fight aside England as the head knight during the Edwardian war. Aden creates a reputation for himself as the most vicious warrior on the battlefield only to protect a deep secret as hidden as p...