The walk to Brynjar’s chambers was one of the most difficult he had experienced. He hated having to receive support from Brother Beorn and Evangelina. However, he knew that he would never have made it on his own. He wasn’t about to lay prostrate in the burned out garden where he could be seen as weak. He was a king. He had to be strong.

Of course no amount of strength could fight off the pain that was seared into his skin, nor the choke of smoke that continued to claw at his throat and twist in his lungs. Once he was on the bed he relaxed against the covers. Brother Beorn peeled away the charred fabric from his skin before examining the burns. They seemed to be a second degree burn at the worst. Brynjar could feel the shakiness in his limbs from lifting the branch to save Evangelina as well as trying to shove the tree that had trapped him.

He looked over at her. She looked terrible. Even in her state there was a twist in his gut. She had nearly gone up in flame. Why did that thought bother him as much as it did? He wouldn’t have a second thought if it was Brother Beorn, and he be downright jolly if it had been Lelinus. Why did the idea of her death seem to rattle his cold and dead heart?

There was an accusation in Beorn’s tone as he mentioned the sickly prince. Brynjar quirked a brow as the monk retreated to his thoughts. Brynjar didn’t start the fire, but he knew others would doubt the truth. No one would say it aloud, but he knew there would be whispers that he had arranged for the fire to be lit.

The thought was almost laughable. He hadn’t ever thought of destroying the herbs that continually brought Lelinus back from the brink, but now this was a convenient accident. With Lelinus already in his sick bed, would it take much to tip the scale a bit more in Brynjar’s favor?

His train was disrupted as he was overcome by a coughing fit. Once he calmed Evangelina was giving him an odd look. He feel exposed under her scrutiny and he didn’t like it one bit. She was eyeing him as though she could read him, see through him.

He glowered at her.

”You...saved me...why?” Brynjar clenched his teeth together. He was not about to approach that topic. He was going to snap at her, make some rushed excuse, but he was saved from it as she swayed on her feet before toppling.

There was a burst of relief in his chest. He didn’t have to address her question.

“Get her out of her, then bring the salve and bandages.” He barked at Brother Beorn. He knew the monk despised him, and he had noticed the soft spot he was developing for his handmaiden. Brother Beorn would ensure her health without Brynjar having to step further into unknown territory that was sending questions and emotions through him he was desperately trying to stifle.

“Now!” he ordered harshly before dissolving into another coughing fit. “And bring some tea back with you.” He wheezed a bit and was forced to fall quiet at this point.

Once he was left alone in his chambers his mind began to churn like the rivers with the winter melt. He had everything carefully under his control. He had positioned and manipulated those around him to where he needed them to be. He would have Elska for a wife, Tyr would lose the second closest thing to his heart, and if he was luckily, Ingrid would be a widow before the week was up.

Their was just one anomaly.

Evangelina.

Quickly, Beorn escorted Evangelina out of the king's room with a quick bow. Privately, he wondered if it would have been better had the young died, but he squashed that thought. As wicked a man as Brynjar clearly was, he was human and thus had some good in him. He had saved Evangelina, after all. Quickly on deciding to treat Evangelina first, he escorted her to his room where Lelinus was resting and applied salve to her wounds before bandaging them.

"I am glad you were not hurt worse..." he murmured for lack of a better thing to say. Gently, he treated her wounds before getting started on Brynjar's tea and gathering supplies to treat the young king's own wounds.

"I only pray that Leo will recover..."

****



By some divine providence, Prince Lelinus did not die. Perhaps it was the work of his father interceding for him in Heaven, Julius mused, but he did not have time to muse about such matters. The prince's health may still be in flux, but today would mark an important chapter in Byrdain's religious history. This was the day that Sarah Morgane arrived to answer his summons. Julius stood before the king, having already gone over this and that matter with him in his capacity as chancellor.

"What is Your Grace's opinion at this moment?" he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral, "There are some who would consider this priestess a heretic, but she is popular among the peasantry. Her presence.... Upsets things. She may even be a threat to you if she cannot be controlled."

What would happen if she deemed the king wicked? A charismatic peasant could topple an empire. History told them as much. Yet, if she could be controlled, she would be a valuable ally.



"You are feeling better," Beorn noted. Leo nodded from his place in front of the fire. Beorn had resorted to keeping him as warm as possible for a lack of any other way to treat his illness. It was believed that heat would kill the sickness, but Lelinus wasn't so sure.

"It comes and goes. I wish Ingrid did not have to see me like this," he murmured.

"She admires your strength, my prince. Truly. It takes a strong person to come back from the brink."

He nodded, too tired to argue. He despised how weak he was at the moment. He was sure his brother was having a merry laugh about it somewhere. He knew that he arranged for the destruction of Beorn's garden. It was common knowledge that he depended on the herbs grown there when he got sick. Still, he wouldn't give Brynjar the satisfaction of seeing him dead. He would live and go about his life as ably as he could.

"What do you think of the priestess coming to court, Sarah Morgane?"

"She sounds like a brave woman... Too good of a one to deserve to have her fate decided by the Patriarch and your brother."

"Then we will have to help her. Who knows. She might even perform a miracle and cure me," he noted wryly, "Please have her visit me."

"Leo..."

"I'm strong enough for a conversation, Beorn."

Brynjar recovered from his burns and Lelinus had pulled through his fever. The only damage left was the burnt out garden. Luckily for Lelinus not nearly as much as been destroyed as they had first assessed. Brynjar had not missed the whispers or looks he had received in his court. Though surprisingly enough it was Elska coming to his defense whenever the whispers had reached her ears. She knew for a fact that Brynjar, at the very least, had not started the fire himself.

The place where his skin had been healing was still red and very itchy as the cells were slowly repairing themselves. It took a great deal of self control to not scratch away in front of Patriarch Julius as they had plenty of important matters to discuss.

Brynjar wasn’t sure what Julius was thinking about this self proclaimed priestess. He knew that Julius had strong opinion about women keeping their place, but the Patriarch was also nearly as power hungry as Brynjar himself. It was no secret to Brynjar that he knew how much Julius was fighting to secure his position.

“You are correct, she could be a threat if she isn’t controlled,” he agreed, “and so we must control her.” Brynjar would need to conscript Julius’ help in succeeding at this endeavour. “I already have enough enemies in my court. I will not add one of my people’s champion to that list.” He tapped the tips of his fingers together as he thought it over.

Sarah Morgane would be an ace in the hands of Lelinus and his followers. Brynjar needed this woman on his side.

“If it was easy enough as denying her claims, then I would send her back to her village before tomorrow.” Brynjar looked thoughtful. “We can’t afford to lose this ally. We need to handle this delicately. She could tip the scales in favor of Lelinus and that is something neither of us would like to see.” Brynjar spoke pointedly. He knew the only reason he had such favor in Julius’ eyes was because he was the one that held the power.

“As soon as she arrives I want her brought to me immediately. We are going to celebrate this woman and honor her and her sacrifice. We will throw a feast, perhaps even a ball of sorts if it would please her. She would not be used to such luxuries, and if we can overwhelm and entice her with position and power, then I think we can win her to our cause.” Brynjar was feeling more confident with his plan.

“Perhaps it would even be good to ask Lady Elska to be this woman’s companion at court. If all goes well Lady Elska will be my queen, and it would reflect well on Sarah Morgane to have an ally. Lady Elska is still fresh in my court and would understand her feelings. What do you think of this?” Brynjar hardly cared if Julius agreed or not, but it did well to keep the Patriarch in the loop as much as possible.

Things between Brynjar and Elska were starting to ease. He knew she hated to defend him, but it seemed that the fire incident had opened up a soft spot in her heart for him. Brynjar was going to use it to his advantage as much as possible.

Evangelina's arms had healed for the most part. They were stiff, a little sore and discolored, the parts of her skin where the fire kissed was paler now, like the darker shades of her skin had broken apart but she'd fashioned herself from fingerless sleeves to hide the disfigurement. It bothered her a little, but that didn't linger on her mind. It was the King. Saving a person's life was not something one could overlook, especially when that someone had been downright cruel up until that point. Even still, Evangelina tried to convince herself that there was something else, that this was a show of power but no, that couldn't be because if it where he would have come out of this unharmed. He was angry with her, angry that she'd nearly gotten herself killed. Did he care? No, that couldn't be but then again, he could have died in there. He burned for her. What was she supposed to think with that? She decided to test this. Another game perhaps, to see if she could get this mask, that she believed she finally saw the edges of, to slip. It slipped once, revealing itself.

He did not once visit her while she was being tended to so sympathy would not work. Either way, she decided she was going to see the man behind the mask because there was one. The same man who asked for a kiss and didn't just take one.

Making her way toward his study, she brought with her his favored meal. Despite the mystery, she was wholly grateful. Burning alive would have been a terrible way to die and he did save her. She wanted him to know she appreciated that.

A thought occurred to her. Should she just tell him that? Properly thank him. He'll do one of two things. He'll squirm beneath the weight of that, or he'll dismiss it. In her mind, that will prove, especially the latter that he was in fact hiding. Any other man, a true monster would revel in the fact that he'd save the life of a lowly servant, risked his own life, but no, he had not done that. He hadn't even acknowledged that.

She approached his door and knocked and once she was granted enter, she bowed her head. Immediately irked by the presence of the Patriarch. She never told the King what that man's intentions were when she first arrived and honestly, she never cared too, why warn him about a snake in his garden when he was the one holding the shovel but now she would. Another act of appreciation. "You're Grace, Father." She said with a nod to the older man. "Here is your meal," She said and was going to tell him it was his favorite but decided against it, not with the Patriarch here. She gave that man a sidelong glance before looking to the King again. "If I may, Your Grace, there was something I wanted to tell you when you have the time." She said and placed the tray of food on his desk away from his papers. Her curiosity caused her to glance in their direction but she was still having difficulties reading the letters quickly so she didn't bother.

She took a step back and waited to be dismissed, watching his face for any sign of the mask.

Lelinus had pulled through his fever. While he had been recovering, Ingrid had been obsessively counting the days that had passed. Even allowing for any error, there was no denying at least the possibility that she was carrying a child. It was rare that she was alone, but she was for now. She rested her hand on her stomach, imagining the child that might grow there. There was so much that still had to be done, and the possibility of a child only made her more desperate to see that their plan came to fruition.

She fastened her belt, leaving it a little looser than normal as it hung from her hips. Brynjar had recovered from his injuries as well. She had painted a pretty face when the news had reached her. There was no need to arouse suspicion from anyone just yet. She was certain that Brynjar had had a hand, however indirect, in the fire that had almost cost Lelinus his life. That was a transgression that Ingrid would not let slide. She knocked on the door of Lelinus’s room, announcing her arrival.

The fire was roaring beside Lelinus as she took a seat beside him. “How are you feeling?” she asked, taking his hand. She could talk to Beorn in a moment. For now, Lelinus was her focus.

The people looked on as Sarah and her guard rode into the great city. The sun gleamed off thier armor as the wind blew their scarlet capes and the pure white banners emblazoned with the symbol of the scarlet flame. The people stood some in awe some whispered amongst themselves.

Sarah herself was awed by the size of the city much bigger then her home. Her Scarlet warriors seemed to be just as enamored by the city as she was gazing at the sights around them. But thier awe was soon broken by a voice...

"Welcome to our grand city! I am to show you to the King at once" spoke a man of the King's guard who added " My men will take care of your horses"
"Yes I am eager to meet with the King and Patriarch" said Sarah after dismounting

Soon the horses where lead to the stables as Sarah and her guard followed the King's men.

"I think that your reasoning is sound, Your Grace. Your favor offers her riches and power beyond her wildest dreams, enough to ensure the propagation of her ideas and the continued existence of her order. Not to mention my patronage will ensure her the support of our holy mother church. If she turns against us despite all we can offer her, then she is a fanatic and fanatics are dangerous," he noted.

Julius ignored Evangelina. He had not quite forgiven the girl for her rude words to him upon meeting him. Still, he did not go out of his way to make things miserable for her. He was not the petty tyrant his rivals made him out to be. As he contemplated his next words, a servant arrived.

"Your Grace, Your Immanence, Ser Sarah Morgane has arrived," he reported breathlessly. Julius smiled.

"Ah. Apt timing."



Leo smiled at his wife. It had been pleasant for her to be with him during his time of trial. She had been gentle and attentive, nothing like the way people perceived her. Yet she had seemed distracted. Perhaps she was worried what would happen if his fever killed him. He couldn't blame her. He squeezed her hand.

"I am feeling much better. I think I am well enough to attend court if not today then tomorrow," Leo told her with a smile. Beorn bit his lip.

"You still have a fever."

"But the worst is over. I know my body. I should be as healthy as I ever am in a few days."

Beorn was about to reply when one of Lelinus' servants entered. He bowed to the prince.

"My prince. Ser Sarah has arrived! She is going to meet the king and the Patriarch."

Lelinus frowned.

"I had wanted to meet her first... Go, send her my greetings and invite her to my rooms. We must speak with her."

He glanced at Ingrid. If they were to survive and remove his brother from power, they would need the support of the people. The support this female war priestess commanded.

"It's a gamble... But a holy person would see through the Patriarch's greed and my brother's vanity," he murmured. Beorn looked thoughtful.

"I pray you are right."

“Don’t strain yourself. I don’t want you pushing yourself to exhaustion again,” she said, quietly siding with Beorn on the case of Lelinus’s health. She turned to the holy man to ask him if they might speak in private, but before she form any words, a servant came in. He bowed to Lelinus. Her grip on her husband’s hand momentarily tightened as she turned her gaze to the fire. She was used to the slights from the servants, but that didn’t mean the sting had completely vanished from them. It wasn’t that she thought that she was above them, but she certainly wasn’t deserving of this lack of respect, especially if one such as Brynjar was worthy of their reverence.

"My prince. Ser Sarah has arrived! She is going to meet the king and the Patriarch."

"I had wanted to meet her first... Go, send her my greetings and invite her to my rooms. We must speak with her."

Ingrid perked up at this knowledge. She had known that the warrior priestess was arriving soon, but she hadn’t realised that she was quite this important. “Perhaps I could talk to her? Woman to woman, warrior to warrior. She might be more inclined to listen to someone who has been in a similar position to herself?” Her gaze unwittingly looked over to the servant, whose attention was still on Lelinus. She looked to her husband before looking back to the flames. “Despite everything, I am still an outsider here.”

Brynjar looked up as Evangelina entered his rooms with a tray of food in her hands. She didn’t seem worse for wear but now wasn’t the time to ponder how the light kissed against her darker skin. What in the world could she possibly have to discuss with him? It made an odd prickle sensation on the back of his neck and he frowned.

“I do not have the time.” His lips were pursed tightly as he did not want to deal with her or the fact that he had nearly killed himself trying to get her out of the garden. Those were fresh memories he was not going to magnify or examine in any way other than feeling grateful he was alive.

There was quite a bit for Brynjar to handle on his plate at the moment. “You’re dismissed.” He waved his hand before turning to Julius who agreed with Brynjar’s points. The servants bustled into the room, bowed, and quickly informed them this priestess had reached them.

“Let us go greet her,” before Lelinus or Brother Beorn can. Brynjar thought before he swept from his room, no doubt Julius following, and didn’t spare Evangelina a single look.

It would be an honor for the king to personally greet Ser Sarah Morgane and it was that sort of honor that Brynjar was hedging a bet on. He reached the great entrance hall just in time as Sarah was shown in along with her guard. Brynjar stood powerfully seeming to command the space around him as his herald quickly introduced them.

“Welcome defender of justice,” Brynjar gave her a charming smile. “I am King Brynjar and I am honored to make your acquaintance Sarah Morgane.” He glanced to the guard before his sharp blue eyes settled back on her. “I am sure you’ve been traveling far, but I would be much obliged if you would join me in the throne room and you can give me your account of what happened during the war. I must admit, there are several rumors floating about you that I would like to see put to rest.”

The royal palace was like nothing Sarah or her followers had ever seen. Even the temple back home could not compare to it. Sarah took in everything as the royal guard led them closer to the throne room. It was then that Sarah and her guards noticed the man walking towards them.
Marcus eyed the man and his sister he could tell they had both pegged this man as the King even before he spoke. He seemed friendly... almost too friendly as he spoke.

"A pleasure to meet you your Majesty" Sarah replied with a bow. She then grinned, " Now if you refer to the rumors of me killing a hundred berserkers with one slash I can assure you it was only fifty" she paused for only a moment before adding " But in all seriousness I'm sure you, the patriarch and I will have much to discuss during my stay here."

Maybe not the best time for jokes thought Marcus as he watched and listened.

Leo felt his wife's grip tighten and saw the way she looked away in anger. His gaze fell upon the servant. Ah, He thought. This would need to be rectified. Ingrid was their princess and if they had their way, their future queen. It would not do for her to be slighted like this. He sent a glare the servant's way and he was gratified to see him squirm.

"Protocol please," he murmured before smiling at Ingrid and kissing her hand, "Do not worry, love. I will not exhaust myself. A part of me hopes the rumors that she can perform miracles is not just peasant gossip. I'd love to not deal with this every few months."

He squeezed her hand, "You speaking to her might be better. I do not know how she feels about Northmen, but it's a chance worth taking. If she is inclined to Brynjar's way of thinking, we cannot do anything about it. Take Beorn with you. He can be of some help. She would respect a monk at least."

"But, Lelinus. You are still weak," Beorn objected. Leo smiled mischievously. He gestured the servant who fidgeted nervously.

"Don't worry, I have someone to help me around."

Beorn suppressed a snort. Well, he'd learn not to slight Ingrid at least.



"It is good to see you, Ser Morgane," Julius told the young woman with a slight smile. It was rare to meet someone who showed him respect with no hidden contempt or guile beneath the smile. He walked beside her as they made their way to the throne room, ignoring the king's maid. It was well that Brynjar reminded her of her place.

"I have heard nothing but good things about you, Ser Morgane, but forgive me for having to question you on your doctrine. It is my solemn duty to safeguard the orthodoxy of the Church in His Grace's realm," he noted. It was good that she recognized their authority, he thought, but there was no harm in a subtle reminder of the power of his position. Still, all would be well as long as the knight was not confronted with the king's... faults.

Brynjar had taken the lead as they walked with their esteemed guests towards the throne room. Brynjar sensed what Julius was up to as he addressed Sarah. "You are welcome here for as long as you would like to stay." They had arrived and Brynjar took his place on the throne. He glanced to the man who stood silently at her side. It truly was quite the oddity to have this warrior priestess in their midst.

"You will surely have plenty of time to get things sorted with the church." Brynjar began. "But I must tell you there is a great deal of curiosity and intrigue surrounding you. Killing berserker was a rather mild rumor on a list that seems to grow every day. My court would be pleased to be acquainted with you. If you are not opposed, I would enjoy holding a feast and masque in your honor." Brynjar spoke with a small wave of his hand.

Sarah didn't know what to think she had expected an Inquisition not a party or honors well at least from the King. The patriarch on the other hand hid what seemed a veiled threat in his honeyed words. She felt like She would have to be most careful with her words around him.

Marcus on the other hand trusted neither of them. The both seemed too friendly but he was in no place to advise his sister now. He watched hoping Sarah would know what to say.

"I do wish to answer all questions that I can...As soon as I can. But Who am I to refuse the hospitality of my King?" Sarah responds. She then adds "but If I may I wonder would it not be easier for you, your court, and I to get to know one another if we where not hidden behind masks?"

If there was a proper way of welcoming a pious hero from a war against a heathen enemy, Lelinus was certain that an extravagant gala was not it. Still, his brother was one to put on a show and as the king, it was his right and Ser Morgane would have been foolish to refuse so Lelinus found himself outside a hall full of masked strangers in a gold and blue garment with a white mask hiding his face. It was simpler than many of his peers as Leo found little need to keep up with the fashions that were popular across the sea in Valmagne or spend his family's wealth on more gold and precious metals than he had bare skin. Nonetheless, it was appropriate attire for royalty, though Leo was sure that his brother would wear something gold and gaudy.

"Well, instead of people disguising their thoughts behind false faces, they will be wearing masks tonight. Awfully convenient, don't you think?" he asked his Beorn with a slight smirk. The monk was dressed in fine black robes and a silver mask, quite different from his healing persona, but then, those robes were the finest ones he owned and he had only reluctantly accepted the mask Leo had gifted him with.

"Indeed. It all feels more honest, somehow," Beorn replied. Still, Leo smiled beneath his mask.

"You should have no trouble finding Evangelina. I think you'd cut a dashing figure."

His friend flushed, but said nothing, far past denying his interest in the foreign woman. He looked around.

"Is your lady wife attending?"

"I simply came ahead to scout the area before we made our entrance. She was still chaning last I checked." He stated with a look of concern. Ingrid had been behaving strangely the past day or so. He had become worried. He clasped his friend's back.

"I will be back. I need to check up on her. Scout the room, will you?" he asked.

Beorn nodded, heading through the doors with a confident gait. Somehow, being in disguise made him less uncomfortable in these situations. He could be nearly anyone and that filled him with a sort of freedom he was not used to. His eyes scanned the room for the king and the Patriarch as well as for someone who might be the knight this event was held for.

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Evangelina sighed at the mask she was given. She was supposed to be working this night, not attending but it had seemed she was a guest in the name of the Prince. Though she had a feeling it was more to do with the Prince's best friend than anything else. She looked down at herself, her arms still gloved up to the biceps to hid the discoloration, the blue dress that hugged her frame exquisitely, again gifted by the Prince matched the mask, a lovely blue and black butterfly with exalted wings though it would be obviously who she was, with the skin she wore and the hair she had.

Honestly, she didn't know what to make of any of this. It was too much for so little. Beorn was great he truly was so she wished she felt the same, but she didn't. Foolishly, the man that always entered her thoughts in the way that Beorn should have, was one she wasn't sure she even liked let alone had feelings for. Yet, he was never far from her mind. The fire in the gardens changed things and his avoidance meant it changed something for him too. She realized then that the King would be wearing two masks this night.

She made her way to the King's chambers, she had to prepare him for this dance as well. she entered without a knock as she usually did. She wore her mask atop her head, and a traitorous voice wanted to know what he thought of what she wore. His eyes always lingered, and now she didn't mind so much. "Your Grace." She said as she entered, glad he was alone. Now maybe she could talk to him about the fire and thank him properly. "And perhaps give him that kiss he asked for before," that traitorous voice said in her head. "Your guests are arriving." She said as she approached the clothes she'd laid out for him and the mask. It was gold and shaped like the face of an animal she didn't recognize she frowned curiously.

"Why do they call you Brynjar the Bear?" She asked, looking at the mask, running her fingers over the gold trim. Where she was from, they had no bears, she had no idea what that animal was, or what it even looked like. She assumed it was this animal here but she couldn't be sure. "where I am from, we don't have such an animal, at least not that I am aware of," she went on setting down the mask and approaching him to change his shirt. She hoped she could get him talking to her again. It was strange and almost colder that he hadn't. "What does that mean?"

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Meanwhile, sitting atop an Arabain, Jordane Marco rode beside the Lady's carriage. He took a deep breath as Bryndian loomed into view, a few short moments, they would arrive and whatever the lady's plans were would be set in motion. How many men would fall into this web of hers, how many before they realized what she was behind that beautiful facade? How many would he have to kill to keep her secret? " My Lady," He called. "Are you prepared for the mascarade?" He asked, his accent thick on the last word, she gave him the mask of a bandit, thinking herself clever. she was clever, but the joke wasn't funny. He knew not what mask she wore but his guess, knowing her, likely a spider. That was her name was it not? The Black Widow. If they were wise, they would know it to not to be a misnomer, he'd seen all but two of her husbands die. to think she didn't do it, would be a woeful mistake.

Ingrid pulled her mask down over her face. The wire curled in and around itself, framing her eyes and curling out into something that resembled butterfly wings, while the centre resembled a wolf. It was pretty and delicate, and nothing like her. The wolf had been Tyr’s idea, why let them forget who you are, he had said. She had never been to a masquerade before, although she wasn’t entirely sure that was the only reason for the butterflies in her stomach. She had been tied into another corset which had only further proved her suspicion that these things were torture devices. While the maids had been distracted, Ingrid had loosened the ties around her hips. She really needed to speak to Beorn about this.

Her dress was deep blue with a gold belt around the waist and gold flowers sweeping along the cuffs and the train. Ingrid sighed and pushed a lock of hair back. She felt like a doll. A very pretty doll, but still a doll. As she made her way to the ballroom, she saw Lelinus. She frowned. Surely he and Brynjar hadn’t argued already. She smoothed out her dress. “Are you alright Lelinus? Did something happen?”



Tyr pressed his mask back to his face. Byrdain had some odd customs. What was the point in a party if you couldn’t be sure who you were talking to. This seemed like a massive risk for a man who saw enemies everywhere. Still, the contents of Brynjar’s head were welcome to remain a mystery to Tyr. His mask was simple. Excessive adornment had never been his way of doing things, which was only another way that he differed from Brynjar. The only adornment stretched across the top of the mask in a stylised hawk.

He knocked on the door of Elska’s chambers, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Elska?” he asked through the door. He looked up and down the corridor. Seeing no one, he continued, “I realise we never discussed this, but I was wondering if I might accompany you tonight. To the ball. I understand if you don’t, but I thought I would offer.”

Elska stared at her reflection breathing deeply and trying to calm her nerves. She hadn’t been sure what to think when word spread that they were holding a ball in honor of Ser Morgane, but as an honored guest of the king she was expected to attend. The whole royal family was expected to attend as well and it gave her a small comfort to know there would be familiar people surrounding her. She was intrigued with the mask concept and stared at the delicate mask upon her face. The wire was spun and twisted from fine silver and while it did a poor job of disguising her appearance it did lend her an air of grace.

She flattened the material at her waist and shifted uncomfortably. It was extravagant on a level that she would not wear, but Brynjar had sent it to her and requested she wear it for the evening. While the giver upset her a great deal, she was pleased with the effect and was rather impressed with the high quality of making.

”Elska?” the sound of her name and the rapping of knuckles on her door made her jump. She turned, the swish of fabric reminding her she had to lift her skirts. She took one step forward before she froze. ”I realize we never discussed this, but I was wondering if I might accompany you tonight. To the ball. I understand if you don’t, but I thought I would offer.” Why did her stomach have to betray her and flop over at his offer?

She quickly hastened her step, her hands fisting the dress as she finally opened the door. Tyr stood before her dressed simply but elegantly. His tunic was exceedingly fine and the mask wasn’t garish. “No, we didn’t.” She said softly and felt touched he had gone out of his way to come here. “I would like that.” A small smile graced her lips. “I’m just about ready, come on,” she turned from him and walked across the room. She lifted a pair of glittering shoes from the small round table and sat on the edge of her bed. She bent down to put them on but quickly discovered she was incapable as too much gown stood between her and her feet. She felt exasperated and huffed in distress before looking up at Tyr. Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her gaze. “Tyr, would you mind?” she asked barely above a whisper as she gestured to the delicate shoes.

---

Brynjar was surprised to find Evangelina walking in already dressed for the masquerade. His eyes narrowed slightly as he realized Lelinus had probably extended the invitation as well as supplied her with the outfit. He doubted she had enough money to make the purchases on her meager salary. It irritated him a bit to know she would be there. He hadn’t spoken nearly a word since rescuing her from the fire. He didn’t want to examine those feelings so he had locked them away and had done an excellent job ignoring her. He needed everything to go according to plan tonight, if it did then it would drive a nasty little stake into Tyr’s heart. Brynjar couldn’t afford to be distracted and he was sure the simple knowledge that Evangelina would be there would divide part of his attention.

She was trying to make conversation. He simply stared at her with a hard expression as she helped him change into the crimson tunic with golden embroidery. “It means I am not afraid of ripping my enemies apart and shredding them to pieces.” His voice was cold. “I have no empathy. I have no mercy.” He let that threat hang in the air between them as he lifted the mask and settled it into place.

Despite what Lelinus may have expected Brynjar was dressed tastefully. It was apparent he had spared no expense, but the mask wasn’t over the top and the gold was an accent that made his hair seemingly shine.

“Enjoy your night off.” His tone was clipped as he swept from the room and made his way to the grand ballroom without looking back.

---

Tamiera sat in her carriage with her long and sharp nails rapping restlessly against the wooden armrest. It had been a long time since she had come to the court in Byrdain. She had been occupied amassing wealth and titles through husbands she had quietly and discreetly disposed of. She was starting to get bored of that game and it hadn’t taken long for her to set her eyes on the biggest prize.

The crown.

She had managed to secure an invitation to the prestigious masquerade and had spared no expense in her attire. The mask while made from a variety of pheasant feathers embodied the fox. Jordane may have been expecting something darker, but a fox was known for being sly and cunning and those were two words that aptly described the black widow. Her gown on the other hand was extremely lavish and the layers were splayed around her taking up the near entire space of the open carriage. She glanced over at her personal guard and smirked.
Jordane Marco, through unfortunate circumstances, had ended up indebted into her service. While Tamiera had a great host of henchmen and men willing to do her bidding, she kept him around and close for two reasons. The first was basking in the power she held over him and the second was that he was actually a rather competent lover. He was young and strapping and it was fairly often she would take in the pleasures of flesh with him.
“Come now, you’ve got to be as curious as I am what our new king will do to corral the opinion of his court.” Her voice was smooth as silk. “Of course I am prepared, have you ever known me to not be prepared for any outcome?” she tsked slowly and wagged her index finger at him. “Do not give me so little credit.” Her eyes swept over his strong from as he rode the arabian with natural grace. “It is too bad there wasn’t enough space in the carriage for you to join me.” She eyed him as she let the seductive suggestion hang in the air. “I think we will have great fun.” She grinned revealing perfectly straight and very white teeth knowing they would be arriving soon. The rest of her guard would remain outside, but she would take Jordane inside with her. He was something of a pet for her and she wanted to keep him close at hand. You never knew when you needed a handsome young man to cause jealousy to burn.

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“It means I am not afraid of ripping my enemies apart and shredding them to pieces.” Brnyjar said and Evangelina watched him, his eyes. They seemed to avoid looking into hers. “I have no empathy. I have no mercy.” He told her and she watched him place the mask on and sighed. He was lying. He knew he was lying. If that were true, she wouuld have burned to death days ago. He knew his mask had slipped and he knew she saw behind it. Her resolve was renewed. She had to figure out what changed him, why washe the man he is today, and why did he rely so heavily on the monster he hid behind. His father had been right, and she would prove it.

"Enjoy your night off." He said coldly nd Evangelina watched after him. He was pushing her away, but she wouldn't give, in fact, she had every intention on pushing back.

---

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“Come now, you’ve got to be as curious as I am what our new king will do to corral the opinion of his court.”She said and Jordane fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course I am prepared, have you ever known me to not be prepared for any outcome?” She said with a tsk and to her credit, she had a point. She was as cunning as she was beautiful, too bad it was only skin deep. “Do not give me so little credit.” She told him and then looked him over. He turned toward the road, how many nights had he been a fly in her web, he knew not anymore. He wasn't proud of it, but she was stunning and at first he thought himself lucky since she had it in her rights to take his head. “It is too bad there wasn’t enough space in the carriage for you to join me.” She said dangerously and Jordane merely grunted. She eyed him as “I think we will have great fun.”
"I am fine where I am, My Lady," He said, while thinking, I should have just let you kill me, it would have been better than this... He'd been a sellsword in his past life, a good one too, mastering like the of swordsmanship like a bird mastered flight, and his honorable ways granted him the will to fight for those he could not fight for themselves, and then landed him in her venomous grasp, when he killed her men, men who'd been attacking young girls and robbing the poor for what little they already had. Since he was a better swordsman than all of them combined, as equal pay, he had to work for her, if not, he would have been hung for his "crimes". If given the opportunity again, he would take the noose, it was much more painless.
"I hear this King has the Feelboran's on his back now, with his brother and their princess being wedded, I suppose you have a plan for the boy prince and his warrior bride?" He asked, hoping to change the topic from him as they approached the gate. He leaned down to a herald to told him to alert the King of her arrival. He wondered then what pretense -because there always was with her- did she have for arriving at this ball and would Brynjar the Bear see past it? He hoped not, he did not want to kill a king on her behalf, he'd done enough already.

"No, no. I just wanted to check up on you. You've seemed a bit distant lately and I wanted to see you before we dive into the pit of snakes," he told her, gesturing towards the ballroom. He could not help but take in her appearance with a slight smile. Sometimes, he could not believe he was married to such a beautiful woman. She definitely didn't like it and her leathers suited her more, but she was still beautiful, if only in a different way.

"You would be happy to know that the women in there wear dresses three times as ridiculious as yours, but are not a quarter as lovely as you are," he told her honestly.



The masquerade was a silly thing, Beorn thought to himself. Many of the fine lords and ladies here wore garments worth more than his own life. But he was glad that Lelinus pulled some strings to arrange for himself and Evangelina to attend. If he coud only... If he could cast himself in a different light then maybe she might return his interest in her. It was a silly desire in times like these, but he could not help but possess it all the same.

"I hope that you are enjoying the party. I don't think there are many woman who are as lovely tonight as yourself," he tried as he approached Evangelina with a smile on his face when he saw she was alone.

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Evangelina stood along the wall as the lords and ladies gathered around, mingling amongst themselves. Her mask was down but it hardly mattered. She stuck out like a sore thumb so she was avoided as per usual. That was fine, though, as she watched the King. She should not be so fascinated by him. She should be repulsed, and yet here she was, hoping he'd look in her direction. Perhaps she'd gotten used to him invading her space, much like a solider might get used to an old wound, was it pleasant, no but it was normal, without his constant pestering and their argumentative back and forth, it was strange, foreign almost, a feeling she'd become accustom to, ironically.

Why was he avoiding her? Well, she knew why but that gave way to another question. Why save her? Why be so angry that she'd nearly gotten herself killed? No one did that for a person that cared nothing about and Brynjar didn't seem to care for anything but his ambitions, whatever they were....was she the exception of this rule? If so, why her? What had she done that made him care? Stand up to him? She did that but just barely. What was she doing right? If he cared, that would explain why he was avoiding her, but it seemed so farfetched.

"I hope that you are enjoying the party. I don't think there are many women who are as lovely tonight as yourself," Brother Beorn broke her from her thoughts. She smiled at him behind her mask. "You are too kind." She said, but she honestly, caught most of what he'd said to her. She gave him a once-over. "You look nice." She said. "I am glad to see you in something other than those robes, color does well on you." She said, and honestly, she would stand to see anyone and something other than the muted colors they were. Her eyes drifted to Brynjar, he stood out too, but he was King he was supposed to. His gold and red shone brightly, catching any light it could. He was the only one in such vibrancy....or was that just to her eyes. "How are you enjoying the party?" She asked. "I'm afraid, I don't know what to do with myself, I have never had a night off since arriving here. "She said with a chuckle, looking back at Brother Beorn.

"Thank you," he told her, blushing slightly in pleasure at her compliment. He made a mental note to wear something other than his monk robes more often. At her next words, he could not help but smile, "I am enjoying it well enough. It does the soul good to see such beauty now and then."

He did not bother to hide what he meant by his words. She was truly beautiful, more beautiful than any of the fine noble ladies here tonight and he did not just mean her physical beauty. He offered her hand with a truly guileless expression which, admittedly, his mask hid.

"Well, there are many activities we can partake in. We can enjoy the rich food and complain about lazy servants undercooking or overcooking the meat. We can gossip about our rivals and engage in petty politicking, or we could enjoy the music and dance our hearts out, but I am afraid that may be far too plebeian for us to engage in."

He could not help but chuckle, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his words.

"I always wanted to see you dance," he told her honestly.

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"I am enjoying it well enough. It does the soul good to see such beauty now and then." Beron said and Evangelina smiled. He wasn't going to let up was he? The question was answered when he offered her his hand. She took it, with a mental why not? "Well, there are many activities we can partake in. We can enjoy the rich food and complain about lazy servants undercooking or overcooking the meat. We can gossip about our rivals and engage in petty politicking, or we could enjoy the music and dance our hearts out, but I am afraid that may be far too plebeian for us to engage in." Evangelina laughed. It was all too often the lords and ladies complained and too little the servants overheard it. It was nice to have a day off. "I suppose we could do that," She said and there was a look in his eye she'd never seen from him before. "I always wanted to see you dance," He said and Evangelina's brow shot high on her head. "You think of me dancing off, Brother Beron?" She said a smile stretching her plum colored lips. The idea of dancing sounded fun, but she knew the court would not appreciate her native style of dance. They barely appreciated her style of dress. "The way I dance, I can assure you, they would not appreciate, yours is one without rhyme, certainly no rythym, you all barely move, there's no drums to keep the beat, It's just steps," she said and stopped, realizing she was ranting. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling," She said covering her mouth with a free hand.

Sarah's dress: http://www.eviltailors.com/4885-home_default_2x/peasant-dress-desert-beige.jpg
Marcus' outfit: http://s957.photobucket.com/user/rawrrealloud/media/WarriorofLightredmagDFF.jpg.html
The masks: http://t08.deviantart.net/etutpd2Aa1JG50ddPd2uRleAxcE=/fit-in/700x350/filters:fixed_height(100,100):origin()/pre05/ae44/th/pre/f/2014/131/5/4/leather_phoenix_mask_by_artisanleatheruk-d7hzn8a.jpg

"I hate these things..." Sarah complained as she dressed.

" Don't worry dear sister I'm sure the king has spared nothing to please you" answered Marcus from the next room

Sarah sorted "He's just trying to show off he wants me on his side...Or more likely as his tool...And you don't dear sister me you shouldn't even be here. You're lucky I didn't punch you when you revealed yourself to me.

Marcus signed " I'm here to protect you on Father's wishes I might add..."

Sarah grumbled " lets just get this over with" Sarah said putting on her mask

Marcus put on his matching mask " Now let's light up this party with our fire!" He said leading the way to the party.

mask
dress

"No, no. I just wanted to check up on you. You've seemed a bit distant lately and I wanted to see you before we dive into the pit of snakes,"

Ingrid frowned. She hadn’t meant to be distant from him. True her...condition had taken up a portion of her mind, but she had not meant to seem like she was pulling away from him or anything like that. “It’s nothing to worry about. I just worried about everything is all. I’ll just speak to Beorn, see if he knows of anything that might alleviate my anxiety.”

"You would be happy to know that the women in there wear dresses three times as ridiculous as yours, but are not a quarter as lovely as you are,” Lelinus said.

Ingrid looked down at her dress. This was a far cry from her usual fare, it was altogether too pretty and soft for her, but she could admire the workmanship in the edging on the gown. And it was pretty. A smile tugged at her lips and brushed a lock of hair back. “I feel ridiculous, no matter how silver your tongue is.” Her smile faltered as she looked down the hall behind Lelinus. “Shall we?”


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Elska opened the door and Tyr felt his mouth go dry. She was a vision before him. He had read of angels, and fancied that one might look like Elska, if such a thing weren’t blasphemy. There was a rather inconvenient conclusion lingering in the distant recesses of his mind. It couldn’t be ignored forever, but for now, it would remain treacherous and hidden. Gods, he wished he were home. Things were much simpler there.

“I would like that.”

Tyr couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at her answer. It was such an innocent string of words and such an innocent desire to be beside her that was being indulged. At her invitation, he followed her into her chambers but waited by the door while he waited for her to finish dressing. Everything she was wearing was incredibly ornate, more than anything she had worn back in Fjellborg. He heard a sigh coming from the bed and looked over, an eyebrow raised in question. “Tyr, would you mind?” she asked, holding up a pair of shoes.

“Of course not,” he said, a laugh mixed in his voice. Tyr took the shoes and gently slid them onto her feet. His fingers brushed against her skin, and he was suddenly conscious of the placing of his hand. It wasn’t too high was it? This wasn’t uncomfortable, was it? He pulled his hand away. “You look beautiful,” he said, hoping it came off flippant and not too eager. He rose from his knees, holding a hand out for her. “Shall we?”

"You speak as if I'd care. You misjudge me," Beorn mock accused with a smile. The way she spoke of dancing made him desire to see her dance even more, "Of course I think of you dancing.... You seem like the dancing type. If you wish, we can dance here or I can show you the garden. It is bare, but life is slowly returning. Or you can show me how to really dance here. Tonight, I do not much care about the opinion of those around me."

He was feeling reckless tonight. It was unnusual for a reserved person like himself, but what was the harm in taking a chance every now and then?



Leo nodded in understanding. Things with his brother had been dull lately, but the danger was still there both for themselves and the people around them, particularly in the course they had decided to take. As of this moment Lelinus was the heir to the throne and one of the few voices that could challenge his brother. Tonight, he would have to find a way to speak to Ser Sarah and convince her to support him or at least oppose his brother.

"I am sure he will be willing to take a little time tonight to help you," he told her before smiling at her words. He took her hand and kissed it.

"We shall, my lovely Fjellborgan wife."

With that said, he entered ballroom with his wife, looking for all the word like he was the happiest he had ever been and to tell the truth, he was. The sting of his father's death had lessened and the feelings that were growing between him and Ingrid were enough to make him feel like he was walking on air. As he entered the room, he spotted a couple dressed in red. He smiled brightly at them.

"Good evening." He greeted, attempting to match their lower facial features with his memories and drawing a blank. He shook his head.

"I cannot guess who you are. If you are the legendary knight and her brother, then it might be providence at work." He jested.