Private Before I go

[Declan Durinson]

Declan stood in the corridor, it was empty aside from him and two armed guards. They were zorathi, pledged to clan Drage sworn to follow and to obey. Declan was the most dressed he had been since returning to Islimore. A long sleeve white shirt covered his tattoos and a pair of boots were over his normally bare feet and his hair was freshly washed and straightened. After a few minutes of waiting the guards buzzed him in through the door, he had been waiting to open.

Declan stepped into the solar, it was a circular room with a large window facing east and another facing west, presumably so the ancient occupants had equally stunning views of the rising and setting sun or moon. It was a miracle that this room had been simply untouched by the devastation of the rest of the temple The Pack was using as a home base.

It may have survived whatever ancient battle had taken place but it had not gone untouched by the new occupants. Boxes and crates were placed haphazardly inside, some with their contents spilling out and in the center of the room was a desk bathed in the early light of dawn from the eastern window covered in scattered papers and data pads. Behind the desk stood the woman he had come to find.

Despite the sun having risen only a few hours ago it looked like she had been long poring over whatever documents were strewn about the desk. She was tall with fair hair, fair skin and an undeniable beauty. Declan did not say anything straight away, having realized he had never spoken to her before and suddenly unsure of why he had come to her now. As he looked at her it struck him how much she reminded him of his mother. Not by their look but with her demeanor, even hunched over a desk you could feel her determination and that above all reminded Dec why he had come.

He cleared his throat. “Freya. I’m Declan Durinson of Clan Kanaka, thank you for taking the time to see me, it's an honor to finally meet.” He remembered his courtesy well “Aelin speaks very well of you.”

He waited for her to respond before speaking again.

“I’m leaving.” He said practically blurting the words. “My clan lands lay north of these woods and it is past time I returned to them. I want to thank you, for sending Aelin to me…on Hutta. Without that I might not even be here. Tell Ellen I said good bye.”

He felt a pang of guilt for not going to Aelin himself. He had thought enough of Fi to explain himself before going but facing Aelin would be too much he knew.

“Is there anything you would have of me before I go?” He asked

Freya Drage

 

[Freya Drage]

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Appearance | XoXo
Location | War Room, Hljóðleva Encampment, Islimore
Tag | Declan Durinson

“I’m aware of who you are, son of Durin.” Freya said matter-of-factly, her cultured accent crisp and her face pointed downwards at the manuscripts laid out, clearly reluctant to pull her eyes away. With a deep inhale, she pushed them into a neat pile and gathered them up, carefully placing them aside.

Wide blue eyes flickered upward, lifting her silky head like a doe emerging from a thicket. Unlike Declan, he would not have the luxury of meeting a pristine Freya. Though her golden hair was tamed and fashioned into lush curls that were smooth as honey, her patrician features were drawn, and beneath the upturned fan of kohl lashes, deepening shadows hung like half moons beneath her eyes.

There was much unsaid that the young Drage female carried upon her slender shoulders, yet she gave no outward indication in her mannerisms on how tired and worn she felt, instead gesturing for Declan to take a seat and join her, preparing a drink for the both of them.

“And Aelin of you.” a smile kissed her plush lips that glinted with the faintest color of rose, “It’s unfortunate that we’ve not been properly introduced before now.”

A glass of golden wine was slid across the wooden table - hand carved from the timbers of mistbrook. A slow sip was taken, listening quietly and with the utmost patience before being set back down again.

“I could not take credit for your meeting, for it wasn’t I who sent her to you, Declan. It was the Gods who put you in each other's path. Aerðs be praised.” Freya angled her legs as she adjusted to a more comfortable position in her seat, carefully fanning out the pastel pleats of her dress.

“And if I am not mistaken, did you not swear her your oath?” Freya inquired, a crease of concern drawing her brows together, while the tone of her voice remained gentle and courtly. “Aelin would understand if you simply went to her... What do you fear?”

A manicured nail idly tapped against the side of her glass in careful contemplation. “I will speak with her on your behalf.”

“Is there anything you would have of me before I go?” He asked.

“Yes. As a matter of fact. There are two things that I would ask of you. That the Gods ask of you.” she set her glass aside, folding her hands neatly together.

“Aelin is young, and while my family has done our best to guide her and prepare her for the expectations that we've always known would follow her, I do not have to explain to you that there is much she is still naïve about. For that she needs protection. She’s one of the last of the Svärd bloodline, and is in possession of the Gods Gems.” her voice shifted from the honey sweet chirp of a songbird, to that of a harder and more serious woman. “When she makes her bid to become Anasi, then everyone will know this truth. When they see what power she can give them, they will lust for it. I ask that you protect her and keep her safe.”

There was a clear protectiveness that she felt, her aura radiating with a hidden power that unfurled minutely.

“The second…” she sighed, “I beg you to implore your family to join our cause. I went to them in earnest months ago, but they would not budge. As it stands, our numbers are still much too small and with every passing day the Fayth encroach on us. It is only a matter of time before war breaks out, and if we hope to win, we must bring in more allies. Can the Gods trust you to fulfill these tasks, Declan, son of Durin?”

 

[Declan Durinson]

“I’m aware of who you are, son of Durin”

Is that so? He wondered to himself. Somehow he doubted the truth of that statement.

Freya gestured for Declan to be seated and he obliged, pushing away the animal part of him that felt the jaws of a trap closing in.

God’s they are all so young. He thought, looking at her as she handed him a cup of wine.


“I could not take credit for your meeting, for it wasn’t I who sent her to you, Declan. It was the Gods who put you in each other's path. Aerðs be praised.”

Humble for a Wolf. Declan thought but said nothing, he only raised his cup and drank. Her words were true or true enough, he knew. He had felt the hand of The Gods, felt it deep in his bones, and yet some credit lay with this young woman even if she were only a tool of The Gods and her dismissal of credit felt more a manipulation than genuine genuflection.


“And if I am not mistaken, did you not swear her your oath?” Freya inquired, a crease of concern drawing her brows together, while the tone of her voice remained gentle and courtly.

“I'm sure you know the answer already,” Declan said, his voice grown curt at the insinuation.

“I swore her an oath, yes and I fulfilled my pledge. Her sister walks among us and her enemies are destroyed. I swore other oaths as well, to my Clan, my father, my brother, and the Gods themselves. Should these be forsaken for Aelin?”

For you.

There was heat in his voice but he managed to keep himself to a polite volume even as the feeling of a trap returned

“Aelin would understand if you simply went to her... What do you fear?”

What do you fear? The question hung between them like a sword with no handle, there was no safe place to grab hold. He remembered the look of hurt and betrayal in his brother’s eyes, twenty years past.

“I fear what every man fears, Draoidae. That his true measure be known.”

“I will speak with her on your behalf.” she conceded to him. A kindness.

“Thank you.”

“Yes. As a matter of fact. There are two things that I would ask of you. That the Gods ask of you.”

He lifted his cup once more to his lips tasting the sweet golden liquid as it ran down his throat and warmed his belly. It smelled like sunshine and tasted of summer. Soft and sweet, like a lie heard laying on a pillow. He took another drink. They were headed for winter he knew but he wanted to savor this flavor of summer, of promises made but not kept. One last chance to ignore the snare.

And there it was the trap sprung and Aelin was the bait. Declan’s face did not betray the torrent of thoughts that rushed through his mind like so much water through a dam that had burst. She was the blood of Thorir. The blood of Aerðs himself and she held The Last Gift, The God Gems.

“Why me? Why tell me of her bloodline, of The Gift, of her intention to rule? Why ask me to keep her safe when surely there are…others.”

Better choices.

“Gerwald or Varick, even Brynjar but why me?” In his heart, he knew the answer before she could say it. They were important. Alphas meant to carry the cause and their people forward and what was he? A dog. It was inescapable at this point, A dog for the Hutt, for the Fayth or her it seemed he was good for little else than death, their enemy’s or his own.

“I will pass your request along, Draoidae but don’t get your hopes up. I am no less a stranger in Hardhaven than you and since the age of Sigmund Wolf-mad, The North has been loath to involve itself in southern affairs.”

“You seem like someone who respects honesty. May I speak freely with you?”

Freya Drage

 

[Freya Drage]

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Appearance | XoXo
Location | War Room, Hljóðleva Encampment, Islimore
Tag | Declan Durinson

Freya tapped her finger idly against the glass of summer wine held in her hand, absorbing Declan’s words and letting them settle.

“Because the Gods chose you for this, and the Gods will is not confined to our ideals and beliefs. Because they saw fit to give you a task that requires courage, a sense of honorable duty, and loyalty.” she replied, smiling softly “When Aelin began her quest, you were among the first to swear her an Oath, despite owing her nothing. When you fulfilled that Oath, you chose to follow her here - without promise of gold, glory, nor a mated match. All of which would be within your right as Kaiha to ask for… many other wolves in your position would have left by now. Yet you continue to expect nothing from her, even going as far as guiding her when she’s been in need. Do you think the others would have done the same, without ulterior motives?”

The question lingered in the air and stilled, a stray strand of blonde hair brushing against the bridge of her nose, avoiding the desire to brush it back into the braided crown that adorned her head.

Moments passed before the conversation drew to the second half of her initial request.

“I will pass your request along, Draoidae but don’t get your hopes up. I am no less a stranger in Hardhaven than you and since the age of Sigmund Wolf-mad, The North has been loath to involve itself in southern affairs.”

“I would argue that these ‘affairs’ affect all of us, Northern and Southern alike. If the Fayth are allowed to run unchecked…” she sighed and pursed her lips. “The North might be safe for now, but eventually the priesthood will come for them as well. If we are overrun, there will be no shield to protect them from that terrible inevitably. It’s in all of our best interest to work together. But I digress… I appreciate your willingness to bring this before your kin.”

Whatever happened, it was in the hands of the Gods now. She could only pray that the Northern Wolves hearts and minds be open to their plea.

“You seem like someone who respects honesty. May I speak freely with you?”

Her chin dipped into a nod, “Please, I’d expect nothing less."

 

[Declan Durinson]

“Please, I’d expect nothing less."


Declan reached across the table and poured more wine in both of their cups. He took a large drink and took just a moment to savor the sweetness. He hoped she would do the same.

“What do you hope to accomplish Draoidae? You say ‘if The Fayth is allowed to run unchecked’ ‘IF’? The humans have gone unculled and been allowed to fester for three centuries. Like it or not this place is no longer ours.” Gods forgive him.

“How many of our kind followed you here? How many of them had ever been here before following you? How many of them would truly be willing to face the soul ripping horror that is war for this place they have no true attachment for? I swear to you I will make my pleas before my brother but The North survived the purge and they have survived the years after, to ask them to sacrifice healthy, happy pups to reclaim a heritage they have not lost…that’s going to be a tough sell.”

Surely this is something that was considered by Freya and the others before returning but Declan had to know. He had to know why.

“And Aelin.” He swallowed hard and found his throat dry, he took another drink of wine draining his cup.

“You call her naive and yet in the same breath report her intention to claim the title of Anasi. I presume she would make this challenge with your blessing. Why!? Why give her that blessing? If you truly mean to make war with the humans and yes you say The Fayth but we both know the moment the monsters return and spill human blood it will not matter who does and does not support the crown, it will be human versus lupo, as certain as sunrise.”

“You would have her attempt to corral and rule our scattered people and lead us to war with the humans. What does she know of war? What do any of these wolves know of war? Gerwald. Varick. They are war time leaders and yet you pin your hopes on her? Why? The Gift? What does that mean to these Wolves born thousands of lightyears from our Gods?”

It did not seem fair. It was cruel to place such a burden on Aelin. Did she know how hard this would be? did it matter? It would not, not for her, she would meet this challenge with ferocity and determination, of this he was sure and of one more thing he was sure as well, he would be there with her, standing at her side ready to leap in front of her if necessary. He was certain of something else now, if he was truly going to be the one at he side to show her the way, they truly were doomed.

Freya Drage

 

[Freya Drage]

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Appearance | XoXo
Location | War Room
Tag | Declan Durinson

Declan’s energy and demeanor had changed considerably, his words bellying a passion that could only be known by one familiar with the chaos that was bound to arrive at their doorstep sooner rather than later.

Freya sat up straight as a mountain as she processed his words, placing her wine to the side and delicately folding her hands together. He asked hard questions… would he like the answers she gave? She doubted it.

“Do you think I haven’t tried to dissuade her?” Freya asked quietly, her expression turning solemn. “The Gods set her on her path, just as they have set you on yours.”

Life with Aelin had been rocky when she first arrived at her family's abode, but the woman had quickly made a place for herself, becoming endeared to many of her siblings - herself included. The last thing she wanted was to see her march off to war like a lamb to the slaughter. “It is not my place to intervene in the affairs of Gods, so I have to believe that they have a purpose; each of us has a part to play, but even so, we can try to alleviate Aelin’s burdens and attempt to keep her from meeting an early grave.”

Dragging her eyes to the floor, Freya closed her eyelids and breathed in deeply to deafen her own emotions. Slowly, she brought her gaze back up to look at Declan.

“As for your other question… Many of those who followed me here were already facing horrors long before I found them. The Galaxy has not been kind to us, as you well know, Butcher of Blackborne. These wolves came of their own volition, many of them with families on the brink of extinction. The Fayth’s reach is no longer contained to just Islimore, it is spreading like a disease to all corners. They know it will not be without loss, but they want to fight back anyways - in hope that we can make things better than they have been. And if anything can unite us, it is hope.”

 

[Declan Durinson]

Declan gave her the courtesy to not interrupt as she spoke.


"Do you think I haven't tried to dissuade her?" Freya asked quietly, her expression turning solemn. "The Gods set her on her path, just as they have set you on yours."

At least I can see my path. Aelin walks boldly through the dark to an end none of us wish to see.



"... The Galaxy has not been kind to us, as you well know, Butcher of Blackborne…"

Declan was on his feet in a flash, the chair he was sitting in went skittering and tumbling across the floor, his hand closed around her slight wrist.


"Guðirnir eru dauðir!" He said fury pouring over his words, his face mere inches from her own. "They had forsaken our kind long before the humans came, long before The Fayth. They stood by and did nothing as I was ripped from my home from The Wolf's Wood. The Gods who I served and loved, they were there in that place and did not have the kindness to let me die." He let go of her wrist and stepped back from her but not fast enough to hide the tears that had begun to slide down his cheeks

"It is not your place to intervene? Just as it is not their place? You would lead us to a slaughter and they will watch."

"Hope." He said the word like it physically hurt him.

"Who is naïve now, Draoidae?"

Spoiler

The Gods are dead

Freya Drage