She stared down at him from the high seat at the end of the hall. His father’s seat. In this massive hall built from the dark ebony wood of the Yronwood forest, the alpha’s seat stood out. It had been carved from the bone-white wood of a large tree from The Wolf’s Wood, veins of rich red sap remained visible still nearly a millennium after its creation, giving the seat its own circulatory system. Goldwork at the top matched the leaves of a still-living tree from the forest from which it had been harvested.
For years Declan had watched his father sit in that seat in his resplendent ivory armor or heavy fur cloak that he wore over immaculate hunting leathers, presiding over his people, settling disputes, or passing judgment on those accused of crimes. When he was very young he would be jealous of the times Durin got to sit on his father’s knee as he held court, wishing he could join them or even have his own turn at having his father all to himself.
Today however it was not his father sitting on the brilliant white chair. It was her. Yasmine of
The Wilds, wife to his brother, Durin the younger who was Alpha of this clan. Her pale white skin contrasted beautifully with her pitch-black gown. Even in the low light, Declan could see it was made of the finest material to be found on the continent, dyed black as ink inlaid with an ivory design, it was as if she was wearing the night sky.
Cinched tight against her waist the bottom of her dress pooled on the floor at the foot of the chair. The parts of her that the dress did not cover, her shoulders, and the top of her chest were hidden under a threadbare black shawl like she was dressed for mourning. Her thick claret hair was done in a tight braid that she had pulled over her right shoulder, letting it sit atop her chest like a sash as spooled in her lap. She wore no crown, just a simple net of brilliant black pearls that would catch the flickering light of the braziers making her hair look like the leaves of the yronwoods blowing in the breeze.
To her right stood a boy, ten years old, maybe. He was tall like all Lupo were but he was especially so for his age. He was clad in pristine onyx leathers ornamented with the same black pearls Yasmine wore in her hair and a heavy white fur cloak. Declan thought at first it was from a bear or a wampa but soon realized the boy was wearing a cloak made from another Lupo.
Black leather gloved hands rested on a sword handle wrapped in the same dark leather, adorned with gold and ivory designs running along the handle. The design was an inscription written in the old runes. A prayer to Aerðs. At the bottom of the hilt was a fierce white wolf carved from the same type of tree as his father’s throne, with tiny rubies for eyes.
The sword hung on a black leather belt that matched the boy’s boots with vivid gold buckles.
For what seemed like an eternity, he stood in front of her unsure if he was expected to kneel, while she regarded him with cold silence. The murmurs and whispers that had followed his walk up to the dais were hushed and all that could be heard was the crackling of the braziers. When finally, Yasmine spoke, it was not to him.
“Sweet brother,” her gaze fixed on Dorian. “Have you stopped loving me as your sister or only as your alpha?” her voice was full of hurt and it seemed to throw his younger brother off some as his response came out with a stammer
“I-I love you as much as I ever have,” Dorian said, clearly flustered.
“Perhaps so,” Her voice was cold. “ Though it comes to my mind that you were instructed to bring the stranger walking our lands before me straight away and yet you delay. Not only do you delay, I see no restraints nor even so much as an escort as he marches through this hall like he belongs here.”
“He does belong here.” said a commanding voice from near Dorian. “My son has come back and I will not hear that he is not welcome in my home.”
“Forgive me, mother, I meant you no offense.” Yasmine said politely to Vala.
“I fear I cannot see your son and not remember his words from when we last shared his hall.”
Twenty years ago when Declan had been hardly more than a boy he stood in almost the same place he was now looking up at his father seated on that throne. His clan had just survived a brutal war with The Wild Wolves of the yronwood forest. Having been united under one banner, that of The Anasi of The Wilds, scattered raids had turned to full-scale invasion. The war as it were was a bloody and brutal affair, Lupo killing Lupo thinning numbers that were already approaching extinction. In the end, The Anasi of The Wilds lay dead alongside two of his sons and a score more. The Wild Ones were no true army and after the fall of their leader, they scattered back into the black forest.
It had been less than a year since the death of The Anasi of The Wild when Declan’s brother Durin had announced his intention to marry. He had chosen for his mate, Yasmine The Wild King’s daughter. Declan could not believe it, he refused to believe it but if he thought he could not be more shocked that day he was wrong. His father, Durin the elder, Alpha of Clan Kanaka, Bane to The Wild Wolves of the yronwoods not only accepted the marriage but was overjoyed at the news.
“Father!” Declan had called. “You would let this wild woman into our home, you would let her marry my brother and name him alpha?”
“As is his right.” Durin the elder said in a voice so cold one would think winter had fallen inside that great hall.
“And of my right?” Declan asked impertinently “ I would challenge for the right of alpha.”
“No.” His father answered back simply in a tone he rarely used with his sons.
“You would give away our lands!” Declan shouted far beyond reason now.
“I give away nothing, boy. See that you remember to whom you speak.” Durin said casting down a righteous fury.
“I remember father. I do but to let this…” He cast about searching for the right words, so lost in indignance was Declan he could hardly form a thought. “...This woods witch, to let her in here to join our clan…”
“Father, I beg you reconsider. Those savages have been searching for a way to claim our lands for hundred of generations and this time they mean to claim it with her blood in a marriage bed in place of ours in their swords. Can’t you see that?”
Declan cast his gaze about his father’s hall hoping to find support, it was then that his eyes met his brother’s. He never forgot the look of pain on his brother’s face, pain Declan had caused.
“He does have curious timing after all. To come here now? To what end, for what purpose? One does wonder.” Yasmine said to her court
Declan had grown tired of being ignored in favor of this show. Yasmine may hold a grudge over words spoken two decades ago but there was more to be concerned with.
“Yasmine, that is enough-”
“You dare-” She began to cut him off but he would not let himself be rolled over
“You sit in my father’s seat.”
“MY SEAT!” She screamed. “Mine and my husband’s and his son’s seat after that. I am Alpha Declan Durinson and you will not forget it.”
“And where is your husband, my brother?” He asked with a more quiet anger than she had displayed.
“My husband is a captive of The Fayth.” She announced.
“What?! When?! How?!” Declan could not believe it. The Fayth had hardly ever traveled this far north and if they had surely they would have done more than take his brother.
“What did you think? Did you think The Fayth here on Islimore would get no word of The Butcher of Blackborne? Gone twenty years and you can’t stop hurting your family. It was nearly a year ago that our Alpha, my husband was summoned to answer for the murder of a family we had never heard of by a man long thought lost, and yet here you are while he is there.”
“We must find him. Must save him, do something.” Declan pleaded.
A sharp bark of what might of been laughter left the lips of Yasime Alpha of Clan Kanaka. “You think we have not tried? Have not sent good men and women to their likely death in hopes of brining him home?”
“Send me and Dorry.” He looked at his brother who seemed more than eager to do this thing. “I have contacts within Clan Drage, they can help.”
“Can they? It was not so long ago that they were here begging for our support. No, I would not put my faith there and Dorian will be staying here.” The way she looked at Dorian was apologetic and pained. “Its almost time for the harvest or have you forgotten our ways?”
Declan had noticed the plants on his way home but the significance had slipped his mind. The harvest months were always the most likely to suffer attacks from those who lived beyond the forest’s edge and into The Wilds, the people would need Dorian and most like every other warrior his clan had to spare.
“The twins then,” He called up “Dorin and Darin, he is their brother as much as their alpha.”
She nodded.
“A curse on your head for coming back here,” she told him in a low voice full of contempt.
“The Gods brought me back here.” He explained.
“A curse on The God’s then for answering my prayers with the wrong Durinson.” Her contempt was now outright hatred.
For years Declan had watched his father sit in that seat in his resplendent ivory armor or heavy fur cloak that he wore over immaculate hunting leathers, presiding over his people, settling disputes, or passing judgment on those accused of crimes. When he was very young he would be jealous of the times Durin got to sit on his father’s knee as he held court, wishing he could join them or even have his own turn at having his father all to himself.
Today however it was not his father sitting on the brilliant white chair. It was her. Yasmine of
The Wilds, wife to his brother, Durin the younger who was Alpha of this clan. Her pale white skin contrasted beautifully with her pitch-black gown. Even in the low light, Declan could see it was made of the finest material to be found on the continent, dyed black as ink inlaid with an ivory design, it was as if she was wearing the night sky.
Cinched tight against her waist the bottom of her dress pooled on the floor at the foot of the chair. The parts of her that the dress did not cover, her shoulders, and the top of her chest were hidden under a threadbare black shawl like she was dressed for mourning. Her thick claret hair was done in a tight braid that she had pulled over her right shoulder, letting it sit atop her chest like a sash as spooled in her lap. She wore no crown, just a simple net of brilliant black pearls that would catch the flickering light of the braziers making her hair look like the leaves of the yronwoods blowing in the breeze.
To her right stood a boy, ten years old, maybe. He was tall like all Lupo were but he was especially so for his age. He was clad in pristine onyx leathers ornamented with the same black pearls Yasmine wore in her hair and a heavy white fur cloak. Declan thought at first it was from a bear or a wampa but soon realized the boy was wearing a cloak made from another Lupo.
Black leather gloved hands rested on a sword handle wrapped in the same dark leather, adorned with gold and ivory designs running along the handle. The design was an inscription written in the old runes. A prayer to Aerðs. At the bottom of the hilt was a fierce white wolf carved from the same type of tree as his father’s throne, with tiny rubies for eyes.
The sword hung on a black leather belt that matched the boy’s boots with vivid gold buckles.
For what seemed like an eternity, he stood in front of her unsure if he was expected to kneel, while she regarded him with cold silence. The murmurs and whispers that had followed his walk up to the dais were hushed and all that could be heard was the crackling of the braziers. When finally, Yasmine spoke, it was not to him.
“Sweet brother,” her gaze fixed on Dorian. “Have you stopped loving me as your sister or only as your alpha?” her voice was full of hurt and it seemed to throw his younger brother off some as his response came out with a stammer
“I-I love you as much as I ever have,” Dorian said, clearly flustered.
“Perhaps so,” Her voice was cold. “ Though it comes to my mind that you were instructed to bring the stranger walking our lands before me straight away and yet you delay. Not only do you delay, I see no restraints nor even so much as an escort as he marches through this hall like he belongs here.”
“He does belong here.” said a commanding voice from near Dorian. “My son has come back and I will not hear that he is not welcome in my home.”
“Forgive me, mother, I meant you no offense.” Yasmine said politely to Vala.
“I fear I cannot see your son and not remember his words from when we last shared his hall.”
Twenty years ago when Declan had been hardly more than a boy he stood in almost the same place he was now looking up at his father seated on that throne. His clan had just survived a brutal war with The Wild Wolves of the yronwood forest. Having been united under one banner, that of The Anasi of The Wilds, scattered raids had turned to full-scale invasion. The war as it were was a bloody and brutal affair, Lupo killing Lupo thinning numbers that were already approaching extinction. In the end, The Anasi of The Wilds lay dead alongside two of his sons and a score more. The Wild Ones were no true army and after the fall of their leader, they scattered back into the black forest.
It had been less than a year since the death of The Anasi of The Wild when Declan’s brother Durin had announced his intention to marry. He had chosen for his mate, Yasmine The Wild King’s daughter. Declan could not believe it, he refused to believe it but if he thought he could not be more shocked that day he was wrong. His father, Durin the elder, Alpha of Clan Kanaka, Bane to The Wild Wolves of the yronwoods not only accepted the marriage but was overjoyed at the news.
“Father!” Declan had called. “You would let this wild woman into our home, you would let her marry my brother and name him alpha?”
“As is his right.” Durin the elder said in a voice so cold one would think winter had fallen inside that great hall.
“And of my right?” Declan asked impertinently “ I would challenge for the right of alpha.”
“No.” His father answered back simply in a tone he rarely used with his sons.
“You would give away our lands!” Declan shouted far beyond reason now.
“I give away nothing, boy. See that you remember to whom you speak.” Durin said casting down a righteous fury.
“I remember father. I do but to let this…” He cast about searching for the right words, so lost in indignance was Declan he could hardly form a thought. “...This woods witch, to let her in here to join our clan…”
“Father, I beg you reconsider. Those savages have been searching for a way to claim our lands for hundred of generations and this time they mean to claim it with her blood in a marriage bed in place of ours in their swords. Can’t you see that?”
Declan cast his gaze about his father’s hall hoping to find support, it was then that his eyes met his brother’s. He never forgot the look of pain on his brother’s face, pain Declan had caused.
“He does have curious timing after all. To come here now? To what end, for what purpose? One does wonder.” Yasmine said to her court
Declan had grown tired of being ignored in favor of this show. Yasmine may hold a grudge over words spoken two decades ago but there was more to be concerned with.
“Yasmine, that is enough-”
“You dare-” She began to cut him off but he would not let himself be rolled over
“You sit in my father’s seat.”
“MY SEAT!” She screamed. “Mine and my husband’s and his son’s seat after that. I am Alpha Declan Durinson and you will not forget it.”
“And where is your husband, my brother?” He asked with a more quiet anger than she had displayed.
“My husband is a captive of The Fayth.” She announced.
“What?! When?! How?!” Declan could not believe it. The Fayth had hardly ever traveled this far north and if they had surely they would have done more than take his brother.
“What did you think? Did you think The Fayth here on Islimore would get no word of The Butcher of Blackborne? Gone twenty years and you can’t stop hurting your family. It was nearly a year ago that our Alpha, my husband was summoned to answer for the murder of a family we had never heard of by a man long thought lost, and yet here you are while he is there.”
“We must find him. Must save him, do something.” Declan pleaded.
A sharp bark of what might of been laughter left the lips of Yasime Alpha of Clan Kanaka. “You think we have not tried? Have not sent good men and women to their likely death in hopes of brining him home?”
“Send me and Dorry.” He looked at his brother who seemed more than eager to do this thing. “I have contacts within Clan Drage, they can help.”
“Can they? It was not so long ago that they were here begging for our support. No, I would not put my faith there and Dorian will be staying here.” The way she looked at Dorian was apologetic and pained. “Its almost time for the harvest or have you forgotten our ways?”
Declan had noticed the plants on his way home but the significance had slipped his mind. The harvest months were always the most likely to suffer attacks from those who lived beyond the forest’s edge and into The Wilds, the people would need Dorian and most like every other warrior his clan had to spare.
“The twins then,” He called up “Dorin and Darin, he is their brother as much as their alpha.”
She nodded.
“A curse on your head for coming back here,” she told him in a low voice full of contempt.
“The Gods brought me back here.” He explained.
“A curse on The God’s then for answering my prayers with the wrong Durinson.” Her contempt was now outright hatred.
