Private Tried by Fire || Yasmine

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Yasmine of The Wilds

The night was cold. Winter was cold. For all the places Gerwald had been, he had never quite liked arctic temperatures. The clothing and furs provided were comfortable, but he preferred temperate climates. He was a spring wolf, a river wolf according to the journal his ancestor had left behind. Perhaps that explained his love of the water, but Gerwald would rather swim in it than walk on it.

He needed a fire.

Slowly he carried himself to the great hearth and hall which the refugees had been calling home since their pilgrimage north. Gerwald still found sleep difficult to come by despite the fact he no longer bore the ring around his neck. The Devourer no longer plagued his dreams, but the weight of what had been required to keep his promise to Naedira pulled on him constantly. He was her tether now, the only thing which kept her in the land of the living.

The earlier events of the day plagued his mind as well. He knew he had taken his frustrations and disappointments too far. Aelin had taken the title of Anasa and ran to the arms of the north, despite his insistence she put aside the advice the others were giving her on that matter. Just because Borre had been her teacher, it did not mean his advice was good. No, whatever she did now would only see her become indebted to the North. Aelin was no longer the free wolf he had known her to be.

She was shackled.

Caged.

Gerwald cared too deeply for the woman to see her in the position she now found herself in. There was no part of her which was free to do as she wished, not now. She had sold herself to the whims and council of others who did not have her best interest in mind. All they could think about was ridding Islimore of the Fayth. None of them had the capacity to understand what it meant to be truly free.

It was in part why Gerwald refused to tie himself to their cause entirely. He empathized with them, certainly, but they were too busy playing victim. Oh, he knew if he ever voiced such an opinion he would be ridiculed more than he already was. Gerwald had lived where they were, under the weight of constant fear of what may happen simply because of what, who, he was. The Outlander knew their frame of mind more intimately than any of them would give him credit for, or that they would be willing to admit.

His icy blue stare fixated on the flames in front of him. He simply watched as they danced about. A wisp of his hand and a ball of fire floated above his open palm as though he commanded it.

He did.

It was the one weapon the Fayth could not command, nature. This was how they would defeat them. Gerwald could teach them to control the mountains, water, wind, fire. No amount of technology would be able to stand against the raw power of the elements. It was an advantage the Lupo could command, and it would be the one thing which would level the field of battle.

He sighed. Gerwald could hear the footsteps shuffling about the stone floor even before the strange scent filled his nostrils.

“Should I call you she-wolf or witch,” he asked without looking away from the fire. “Of all the wolves I have met, you are certainly the most unique.”​

 

[Yasmine of The Wilds]

Wearing | Location | Gerwald Lechner​

Yasmine was restless. The day had been an eventful one and now comfort eluded her. The council meeting she had been a part of had gone the way Dorian had told her it would. It was a disaster. From the get it was little more than posturing. Some progress had been made, it was true but not without cost.

She, Yasmine of the Wilds had been a part of the first gathering of the Alphas in living memory, acting as advisor to her own Alpha.

Dorian of Clan Kanaka was the younger brother of Yasmine’s mate and it was Dorian who took over as Alpha when her mate left this mortal plane. Dorian was as much a brother to her as her true born brothers had been… no he was more a brother than they had ever been. In the short time Yasmine had known her true brothers they had been nothing but cruel, leering, and at times vicious. Because of them she had learned to sleep with a dagger between her legs and she was not ashamed to admit that she felt joy at the news that they had died in her father’s war with Clan Kanaka. Yasmine’s father had risen as Anasai of The Wilds and waged a short and brutal war that lasted less than a summer. Her father and all three of her true born brothers died in that war.

And it was the threat of war that been the purpose of the gathering though war of a different sort. The Fayth were a plague on them all, having nearly wiped Lupo out entirely more than a generation ago and it seemed they meant to finish what they started.

So the council had been called by Aelin of Clan Erevos

Dorian had become too enamored with Aelin. The Anasa. Just the thought of the word brought a curl to her face like she had eaten a handful of under ripe blackberries.

I should have put an end to it.

She thought as she walked through the hall, her mind drifting to all the excuses she had made.

What was the harm in curiosity?

He was Alpha now.

He should enjoy himself after so many heartbreaks.

He will tire of her.

In the end it came down to Yasmine’s own weakness. She loved her brother and she let her need to see him happy get in the way.

This meeting where they squabbled over numbers and tactics had shown what Yasmine had known for weeks. She should have pushed Dorian to challenge Aelin or if he did not want the title he should have put his support somewhere else. With Astrid if possible.

Astrid. She was as much to blame for this as any of them. Had she just been at the Varblessum, had she just shown Dorian that she felt for him the way he had always felt for her, he never would have chosen Aelin.

But he had chosen. Chosen this Anasa who allowed herself to be challenged at every turn with nothing but words as answer. An Anasa who allowed a meeting to decide the very fate of their people to devolve into petty argument.
An Anasa of a southern clan from beyond the stars who’s first taste of the Wolfswood was less than a year ago.

Dorian had committed his men to her cause. In place of taking the cause from her. Now anything he did would be in service of the Anasa. Dorian was no longer the free Wolf he had been nor The Alpha he should have been.

Committed his men and himself.

He was tethered to her now.

He was shackled.

Caged.

Yasmine cared too deeply for her brother to see him in the position he now found himself in. There was no part of him which was free to do as he wished, not now. He had sold himself to aid and counsel others who did not have his best interest in mind. All they could think about was ridding Islimore of the Fayth. Would they ever truly get the chance to be free?

Yasmine Fjölnirsdottir, Yasmine of The Wilds been ill-rested for what seemed like a year or more now and tonight he wandering had less to do with the council and more its end. She had left the chamber as she had entered it, proudly on the arm of her Alpha but as soon as they had gotten away from the others Dorian had dismissed her and not kindly.

He would find some other council tonight, she knew. He would find his outlander and he would serve.

The scent of another outlander caught her attention. Gerwald he was called. He was shorter than Dorian, fair where her brother was dark in both complexion and hair color and he reeked of civilization. He had shown a capacity to bare his fangs but not the willingness to use them.

Gerwald waved his hand over the hearth fire he had started and to the shock and utter bemusement of Yasmine, a wisp of fire crackled and swayed in the above his hand as though he were its master. Her surprise did not come from the feat itself, no, she had seen and performed many tricks of the kind. It was that it was Gerwald, this outlander, had done it. The North was not a place where one used The Gift so freely lest they be called

“Should I call you she-wolf or witch?” he asked


“Is that a question?” Yasmine asked with exaggerated surprise. “And one to which you do not know the answer?” She mocked him further “Has this ever happened to you before?” She laughed softly.

There were those in The North that named her witch and for that The North had bled.

First they had called her witch and then they had called her Alpha, and now…

“Call me what you wish, you are Alpha. Take care to have some respect where my brothers can hear you. I would hate for blood to spill on my account.” She said with a wickedly playful smile.

The last part was not strictly the truth. These Wolves from the stars were far too tame for her liking. They could all use some blood.

“Of all the wolves I have met, you are certainly the most unique.”

“I would return the sentiment but for fear of growing your ego, I shall refrain.”

Yasmine looked long into the fire that played above Gerwald’s hand. Felt the heat from the hearth. Gerwald watched the flame as well. She wondered what story it sang to him. To her it sang the truth.

Blood for Blood.

“May I join you?”

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Yasmine of The Wilds

"It is, and it has."

She was mocking him, clearly. The she-wolf only had seen the one side of him. In fact most of the other wolves only knew Gerwald as the General, the Warrior, the Lord Commander. Whether it was a mask he wore, or more a picture of his true self, they would never truly know. Of the wolves, Aelin and Declan were the only two which had seen the softer side of Gerwald, the man he was when not commanding. The temptation to put the mask back on in the presence of the witch was palpable, but it would not serve him well if he wished to make her an ally in his cause.

Like the other wolves Gerwald did have his own interests. His were more aligned with freedom, not genocide. There were voices which spoke in Aelin's ear which called for the evil of the Fayth to be met with the same evil. It was another reason for his disappointment. Aelin had asked him about such things, confused that Lupo could betray Lupo. The lesson he had taught her from the experience was that being Lupo did not make one good or evil, nor did being human do the same.

It was a lesson she seemed to have forgotten.

"What is your preference?"

His eyes turned from the fire and as they did the flame in his hand seemed to dissolve into nothing but smoke and vapor. She was beautiful in her own way, he supposed as he regarded her. She commanded a presence that none of the other wolves possessed, not even Aelin. This was a wolf that understood what it meant to be free. She came and went as she seemed to please, and yet served her Alpha. That was what made her so curious. She carried herself like a free woman, and yet confined herself to servitude.

Gerwald had been much the same. Despite the fact he came and went as he pleased. There was part of him that always held an innate desire to serve. He knew it was their nature as Lupo, but that would always be his secret unless pressed to reveal it.

"Confidence is often mistaken for arrogance," he replied. "There is no one on the council with the experience I have. No one else around the council table has subjugated hostile worlds as I have. None has led the armies I have. I am confident because I know what I know, and I also am aware that there are things I do not know."

He looked at the woman.

"That is all… there is no mystery to it."

His hand motioned toward the fire.

"Your alpha is our host, and by extension you are as well. I only bite when I must."

It was not the answer a wild wolf would have given. Gerwald was not a wild wolf. Many among the Lupo thought his behavior was weak because it was civilized, but it was not the way of their people when adapting to social norms of others was required to survive. Gerwald had achieved what he had because he had learned when to free the wolf, and when to keep it at bay.

He was misunderstood for it. It was an advantage he would hold for those who would underestimate him for it.

"You are restless."

This time it was not a question, but a statement. In a way it was an admission they had something in common at least. Gerwald wandered for the same reason.

"The fire is our only witness tonight. Perhaps we both do not need to hide behind whatever facade we keep in place when the others are around?"​

 

[Yasmine of The Wilds]

Wearing | Location | Gerwald Lechner​

"What is your preference?"

“Yasmine, will serve.”

Faithfully.

“You are Gerwlad, correct?”


"Confidence is often mistaken for arrogance," he replied. "There is no one on the council with the experience I have. No one else around the council table has subjugated hostile worlds as I have. None has led the armies I have. I am confident because I know what I know, and I also am aware that there are things I do not know."

“As you will.” She said to him with a nod. She saw little value in discussing the semantics between what was and was not arrogance. “Do you believe you are the only one of our kind who has tasted war? Or is it that you believe your wars are somehow more noble? That you alone know the truth of battle and what must be done? That seems something more than confidence.” Yasmine spoke softly.

“You say none have your experience. Dorian has been blooded since he could split his skin. None have led the armies you have nor subjugated…was that the word? Hostile worlds. Perhaps that is true, though I doubt the Alpha who follows Aelin around…” She trailed off not quite able to recall Brynjar’s name. “Got all those scars from shaving. What experience you have out there” She waved a hand absently toward the great hall's ceiling. “Will serve you here undoubtedly but do not rush to think it makes you more than us. Aelin may be new at war; the rest of us are not. My home may be one of the hundreds where you have visited but for me, for The North, for Dorian, it is all we have known not just in our lives but in all our lives past. Whatever battles you have seen, however many soldiers you sent to their death, they count for no more than what we have done here.”

Yasmine was no warrior, yet she had known little else save for war. Living among the packs of the Yronwoods was harsh, unforgiving, and violent. Resources were scarce and were protected or taken at any cost. Life at Hardhaven had been no less bloody even if it were leagues more comfortable. For years Hardhaven faced rebellion Clan after Clan rose against their Alpha using her as their justification.

“Do not mistake me. I do not begrudge you your pride. Without pride, a Wolf is no more than a dog. I mean only to enlighten you to what you may not know.”

Confidence or arrogance it made no matter.

His hand motioned toward the fire.

"Your alpha is our host, and by extension you are as well. I only bite when I must."

“I will do my best then to give you a reason.” She said coyly as she took a seat next to Gerwald.

"You are restless." he said.

“The crow tells the raven she is black.” Yasmine laughed.

It did not take the eyes of a Wolf to see that Gerwald could not find comfort either. Her eyes were yet drawn to the fire. Yellow-orange shapes moved through the flame, visions of the future, of the past, of things yet to come or those that would never pass. She tried to hold on to these signs and read the portents, but they were too liquid, changing too rapidly.

"The fire is our only witness tonight. Perhaps we both do not need to hide behind whatever facade we keep in place when the others are around?"

Yasmine’s blue-eyed gaze turned to regard Gerwald fully now. It would seem he revealed some truth to himself. How intentional it was, she could not be sure but it caught her attention if not her interest.

Yasmine of The Wilds. They would never allow her to forget who or what she was, why would she bother trying?

“As you say.” Yasmine placed a hand on Gerwalds forearm.

“What then Gerwald do you hide from?”

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Yasmine of The Wilds

Gerwald nodded. If Yasmine is what she preferred then Yasmine is what he would call her. She asked his in return, and the wolf nodded once more. He had no other name to be called. Those closest to him called him Ger, and only had done so from a place of intimate connection. She had returned to her people in a similar way Gerwald had found his once more. His heart longed for her in a way, and yet he had made his decisions, and so had she. Yet, the wolf could admit he had no regrets in that regard.

"I have never supposed I am the only who have tasted battle, or have lived with the fear of what humans may do if they knew what I was. I am also not ignorant that the majority of Council do not understand war in the way I do."

He paused as Yasmine continued. She gave examples of the kind of war the others knew. Dorian was a formidable warrior, Gerwald had no doubt. Even Brynjar had proven his worth to his own clan. The wolf simply had a different standard of what was acceptable. Aelin wanted to win her fight, and while many had proven their ability to survive, survival alone would not claim the prize the Anasa sought to claim.

Gerwald was quiet for a moment as he simply watched the fire. A smile pulled at his lips at the way she had addressed his statement about her restlessness. The crow calls the raven black. Her ways intrigued. The figures of speech she utilized and the mannerisms which shaped her countenance were a curious thing. Perhaps she wore no mask. Gerwald knew few who did not. Would Yasmine be among them?

His eyes drifted to the hand which rested on his forearm. It was not the soft and dainty touch of a refined woman. Her hands had seen hardship and heartbreak. This was a woman who worked for everything she had gained. She may not have been a warrior, but she knew what it meant to fight.

"What do I hide from, or what is it that I keep hidden?"

He paused again after breaking his silence.

"If I knew the answer to that question perhaps I would not be so arrogant," he smirked. "Perhaps behind the confident warrior lies a wolf who has never seen his efforts as being good enough."

Was it true, maybe. Gerwald was hard on others because he was that hard on himself. Had he become Lord Commander on his own merit? The wolf had done so to live up to the warrior Naedira had believed he could be, and even then he had not been powerful enough to bring her back to the land of the living. Another had to intervene so he could keep his promise. With every achievement Gerwald was still reminded of what he had not accomplished, and there had only ever been one person he had been willing to admit failure to.

"Dorian was right to oppose Aelin's plan," he shifted the topic for a time. "No one else had the courage to speak up. It speaks to the fact he is a strategist, but did he not admit it was out of fear? Brynjar is covered in scars, and he boasts about how many battles they prove he has been through. Are not those scars simply evidence that he was too slow to raise a proper defense, and that he is not as skilled as he claims?"

Gerwald looked Yasmine in the eye.

"Does my confidence only serve to hide my insecurities?"

The question was as much a statement. Yasmine was wise enough to understand what Gerwald was saying. Yes, he was confident, and he knew his plan was the better option. That did not mean he was not constantly second guessing himself.

Gerwald cupped Yasmine's cheek in his calloused palm. They were the hands of a season warrior, a man who was intimately acquainted with killing and bloodshed. This touch was not that. It was soft, gentle. Where he stood as an imposing figure, the wolf showed a compassionate side. His arrogance easily melted into a humble vulnerability.

"Wolves need their pride, you are correct, but they also must know their flaws and understand their limits."

His hand fell back to his lap.

"I am afraid our gathered forces do not know theirs, and I question if Aelin truly knows hers.“ ​

 

[Yasmine of The Wilds]

Wearing | Location | Gerwald Lechner​

"I have never supposed I am the only who have tasted battle, or have lived with the fear of what humans may do if they knew what I was. I am also not ignorant that the majority of Council do not understand war in the way I do."

The faintest of sighs escaped her. A mere whisper of her disappointment with this one. He would hear her though it would seem to make no difference. A shame but hardly a surprise. She could impress herself upon him further but to what end? His thought on this matter was final and she would not waste breath on a labor with so little hope to yield fruit as trying to sway him.

"What do I hide from, or what is it that I keep hidden?"

What is your preference?

She left the thought unspoken and allowed the fire's song to continue uninterrupted.

"If I knew the answer to that question perhaps I would not be so arrogant," Gerwald smirked. "Perhaps behind the confident warrior lies a wolf who has never seen his efforts as being good enough."

Her lip curled, half snarl, half pout as she swallowed the distaste from his jest. Again Yasmine remained silent. She would allow Gerwald his self-pity for he would get none from her.

No Wolf ever grew stronger from pity. She sought for none when her father and brothers did not return. She sought for none when The North had risen in rebellion against Clan Kanaka all because of her. She sought none when her mate left to face trial from The Fayth and none when he returned to her a corpse.

"Dorian was right to oppose Aelin's plan," he shifted the topic for a time. "No one else had the courage to speak up. It speaks to the fact he is a strategist, but did he not admit it was out of fear? Brynjar is covered in scars, and he boasts about how many battles they prove he has been through. Are not those scars simply evidence that he was too slow to raise a proper defense, and that he is not as skilled as he claims?"

Dorian had admitted to no such thing. The outlanders all had a curious habit of hearing what they liked. In any situation, it was they and they alone who had the right. It was only through their knowledge, their skill, or their blood, that their people would be saved. Not that any of them could work together.

No, to ask Gerwald it was he that knew the way forward, he who judged all he met as unworthy.

To ask Brynjar he would tell you that Gerwald could not be trusted and yet he would not lead, this Alpha who was content to serve.

Aelin names herself Anasa to save them from The Fayth by taking command of an army a tenth the size of the population of the city on the harbor. Alpha of Alphas and she could not control her own council.

They come to her home and decide what is right for Wolves whose blood has walked this soil from the time of The Gods.

"Dorian was right to oppose her because he saw what she did not," Yasmine said plainly.

He should have gone further. He should have done what Gerwald threatened to.

"As for the rest…" her voice trailed away as if she were weighing the truth of his observations. Dorian had not claimed fear when giving his counsel only sense. Sense that none were willing to admit. He alone had the mind to remember what The Fayth had already done to the off-worlders. He had been the first to ask about their numbers though Aelin's shadow had stumbled upon the idea as if it were his own. Her brother had his fears. Aelin's war was not one of them.

"If Dorian had counseled from fear…" She asked dismissively. "What of it? War is no thing to be taken lightly. If fear did guide his words would that make them wrong? Would he be worth less to you, should he be worth less?"

Too late did she realize she had fallen for his bait.

This one thinks himself smart. Smarter than the rest of us.

It did little to impress her.

"Does my confidence only serve to hide my insecurities?" He asked. Gerwald's fierce blue eyes stared in the soft frost of Yasmine's.

"It serves little." She told him not unkindly.

To her surprise, Gerwald took her face in one of his massive hands in an unexpected and not wholly welcome display of intimacy. She did not turn from him though. This was to her estimation the first display of who or whatever Gerwald claimed to mask. This was in truth the act of a Wolf, whereas the rest had been a show.

There was hope for this one yet.

Or so she had thought.

"Wolves need their pride, you are correct, but they also must know their flaws and understand their limits."

Gerwald's hand fell back to his lap.

"I am afraid our gathered forces do not know theirs, and I question if Aelin truly knows hers."

"Do not make her failings, our failings." Her tone was as harsh and biting as the cold that forced them to start the fire they sat near.

"Why did you not challenge her?"

The question had bothered Yasmine since the council meeting. It was obvious that Gerwald was physically strong and if he was the warrior he claimed, taking the title of Anasai would have been little effort and yet…

"Does she mean something to you?"

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Yasmine of The Wilds

She seemed to misunderstand him, which was not an entirely new experience for Gerwald where his own kind were concerned. Unlike others Yasmine asked more questions than she did level accusations. She could if she wished. Gerwald was more than certain her tongue was as sharp as her wit. If she truly wanted to, the woman would be more than capable of making her words sting in a way only few knew how to do where Gerwald was concerned.

He smiled. As Yasmine spoke and asked her questions it became clear she had followed him along to his point after all. It was not bait as she supposed, but rather the wolf was simply pointing something out which she already knew.

All of them had weaknesses.

“It would not make me think any less of him,” Gerwald answered. “Fear is natural.”

They seemed to be getting somewhere, and yet it seemed they were not. Once again Gerwald was getting the feeling she did not fully understand him. Pride was a dangerous thing if one did not know the limits of it. The warrior that did not know their limits could never truly know whether to heed them, or push past them. How many times had Gerwald pushed past his own because necessity and duty demanded he do so?

He sighed and shook his head.

“I do not. I assure you I still have not formed my opinion of the north just yet. Your Dorian intrigues me, and you even more so. There is something about you that is direct, and yet not. Perhaps I will never fully figure it out, but I am determined to try.”

Was it a promise? Maybe. The wolf was unsure of what it meant himself, at least to a degree. Like any good warrior he would make his own assessments of them. He had done so with Freay, Aelin, Declan, and Brynjar. All of them were strong in some ways and weak in others. Some he found to have a higher regard for their own skill than they should, and others he found did not esteem themselves enough. It was no mystery where some of them fell in Gerwald’s mind. Others, he liked to keep them guessing.

Yasmine seemed to finally come to the question which had been on her mind for some time. The way she asked seemed to carry a curiosity that was not birthed in the moment.

“That would be the difference between our ways.”

He smiled

“To you it seems I did not. Brynjar and Dorian would likely think the same thing I have no doubt. Here it is a sign of weakness to use words only it seems, and yet among many circles I interact with beyond the borders of Islimore I did challenge her. Not only did I challenge her, but I won that challenge.”

Gerwald paused for a moment to let her think about it. He was certain he would need to explain further, but he wanted to give the she-wolf a moment to come to the answer herself before continuing.

“Did she not back down after I whispered into her ear? Words are as powerful and dangerous as a sharpened sword or deadly fangs. They can be wielded with skill just as any weapon. In the end, her title is just that. The north does not recognize. I do not recognize it.”

He looked at Yasmine again.

“Do you think of me as weak because I did not fight her?”​

 

[Yasmine of The Wilds]

Wearing | Location | Gerwald Lechner​

"It would not make me think any less of him," Gerwald answered. "Fear is natural."

Fear is natural.

The words hung with her as she stared into the flame. The fire spoke only in small breaths between the pops and crackles. It's song remained a mystery, a half remembered tune from a drunken night sitting outside the tavern. It was a din of sound with the barest whisper of melody.

To find in the truth in the flame was to be asked to paint a room you have never once seen and to do so in the dark.

He sighed and shook his head.

"I do not. I assure you I still have not formed my opinion of the north just yet. Your Dorian intrigues me, and you even more so. There is something about you that is direct, and yet not. Perhaps I will never fully figure it out, but I am determined to try."

Yasmine laughed at him. No, not at him but because of him. A laugh as genuine as any as she had been able to muster since she buried Duri.

"We find growth as we search for answers not when they are made plain to us" She said in regards to his comments on her directness. Still laughing softly she continued, "I am no more than a savage forced unto civility." Her smile remained. "I am sorry for my laughter. It does please me to hear that my Alpha has made an impression but your interest in me comes as some surprise.”

As far as she could tell any and all Wolves had eyes for Aelin and Yasmine did not press Gerwald for an answer on whether the Anasa was special to Gerwald. His silence on the subject told her enough. Gerwald did seem willing to address whether he had in truth challenged Aelin for her title.

He smiled

"To you it seems I did not. Brynjar and Dorian would likely think the same thing I have no doubt. Here it is a sign of weakness to use words only it seems, and yet among many circles I interact with beyond the borders of Islimore I did challenge her. Not only did I challenge her, but I won that challenge."

"In The North there is a holy place. A waterfall. Fifty, sixty feet, no more. It can be found in a glade among the black wood of the Yronwood forest, in a place where winter never ceases. This waterfall it flows freely no matter the season, and no matter the season great fangs of ice cover the front of her like scales covering a dragon. To see such a thing is to be reminded of those who walked before us. The water flows and sings her song always, but it is impossible to touch her waters for the ice. Whiter than any white but when the sun rises and the light first touches the water's crystal shell that white burns in colors I do not have the words to describe." She said to him wistfully.

It took a special Wolf to taste Nuaed's tears. He brother's had all tried to scale the ice of the falls to reach the stream's mouth and drink. None could, not even her father, he who found the strength to unite the Cailleadh for the first time in five hundred years, he who has laid claim to be the only true Anasi of The wilds since before The Fayth, he could not do this thing.

She had been a pup. Younger then than Dorin and Darin were today. The news that her father had failed had reached them. The Pack was no longer and most began to slink back to the Yronwood. Some remained in their newly taken keeps and prepared to defend what they now thought theirs. It took half a year for Durin the protector to root then from their holes and see them executed.

Her father, her brothers and hundreds more were dead and The North would come for them. She made her way to the falls and remembered all the times she and everyone else had failed to climb her. She thought of father and she knew where failure led.

Yasmine spent hours failing and falling. With each attempt she fell further, landed harder, and grew more determined. It took half a day and a hundred falls but Yasmine found herself at the top. She remembered cupping her hands and dipping them in the water without thought. Sharp needles of pain ran up her arms but she did not pull her hands from the stream until they were so full they spilled. She drank handful after handful until her stomach hurt.

She wept.

When finally she returned to the bottom of the falls she found a sword at her neck and her eyes laid upon a wolf clad in black and gold with eyes of green fire.

"Some things have many colors, Gerwald. Others do not." Yasmine said. "What do these circles beyond our border matter? You are here at the birthplace of your bloodline and you say that you won this challenge, why? Because it would have meant something elsewhere? You are not elsewhere, you are here."

"Did she not back down after I whispered into her ear? Words are as powerful and dangerous as a sharpened sword or deadly fangs. They can be wielded with skill just as any weapon. In the end, her title is just that. The north does not recognize. I do not recognize it."

"Aelin's weakness is no measure for your strength. From my memory she answered your words with more words. Words should not be mistaken for deeds and a challenge unanswered should not be mistaken for a challenge won." She was not harsh. She spoke only the truth as she saw it.

Empty threats served no one. Yasmine was certain that Brynjar saw no fault in his Anasa and only with Gerwald. A fool's notion born of jealousy and blind loyalty. The North would see the entire cause as weaker now. A direct and open challenge was made on Aelin and her right to rule, in front of those she meant to follow her. No true Alpha would have allowed such things and yet her answer was not to remove Gerwald from the council or answer his slights with fang or steel, the Anasa turned the challenge back to Gerwald…who did what in turn? Speak.

It did nothing to grow either of their esteem but it could still be a useful turn of events when the time was right.

"Do you think of me as weak because I did not fight her?"

Yasmine lifted a tattooed hand and softly stroked Gerwald's cheek, her pale flesh finding what part of his face was not covered by his beard.

Ceann milis She said in the wild wufi of the Yronwoods

"I think you to be lost." She said gently.

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Yasmine of The Wilds

”There is more to you than meets the eye, and more than you give yourself credit for. You have the ear of your Alpha. He listens to you. Why is that, you suppose?”

The question was not meant to be answered, even if she did, it would matter little. The point was already made as far as he was concerned. Yasmine would see it, or she would not. Her laugh did cause Gerwald to smile.
Her words which followed did not. There was a part of him which did not fully grasp the imagery because he had never seen the falls, and yet, he knew of such places where words could not grasp the beauty of what the eye beheld. Part of him, the wolf, took her words as a challenge, and before he could catch himself he found himself blurting out a prideful statement.

“I could touch the water.”

He stopped. Telling her how would do nothing considering she was using the image as an illustration for his current reality. Certain things simply were, and it seemed she saw his predicament as black and white.

He was here, and nowhere else.

How long had he seen things as clearly as she put them only to be chided into seeing things as more complex than they were. She was correct, and yet part of him knew she was also wrong. They needed to change as a people if they wished to overcome the Fayth. The idea of Anasa or Anasi needed to be done away with, and Gerwald could be the kingbreaker if it was necessary for him to be so.

Perhaps she did not understand the art of manipulation. Gerwald did not care how the situation worked. He used every tool at his disposal to shift the others from a plan that would not work. There was also the matter of Aelin’s promise, one she continued to delay on. She could not be allowed to do so if the matter had been made publicly. Brynjar was the only one who suggested it be delayed, but that was because he did not understand the calamity that it would create for their people if it was. His ignorance, and refusal to cling to blind loyalty and tradition rather than educate himself, frustrated Gerwald to no end. Yet it was what it was.

“If I were challenging her for the title you would be correct. But recall my words, I told her if she would not keep her oath I would challenge her. Perhaps the nuance is not something our kind here understand, but I did not directly challenge her. I simply gave her an ultimatum, and when I spoke the truth to her, that she was not strong enough to win, she chose to fulfill her promise.”

He took in a breath and let it out slowly. It was an oversimplified version of the events which took place, but nonetheless true. There was no more thought given to it as the answer to another question caused Gerwald to laugh as she had before.

“Lost, I am sorry for laughing,” he said as his hand rose to take the hand which rested on his cheek. His voice calmed. “You would not be the first to say such a thing to me.”

Their eyes met for a time as Gerwald turned from the fire to find whatever truth lay behind her northern gaze. Their impasse was one which Gerwald often found when dealing with the Lupo of Islimore. Perhaps he was pushing for them to change too hard, but it was something the Lechner clan had been saying for centuries. It was partly why they had left, according to the journal.

“It is only here on Islimore, by finding Bloodraven, I learned the truth of my clan. I am not as lost as you may think, but rather I am simply pushing for something my ancestors put into motion centuries before this moment.”

His smile faded.

“I am not lost, Yasmine. I am alone.”​

 

[Yasmine of The Wilds]

Wearing | Location | Gerwald Lechner​

“…You have the ear of your Alpha. He listens to you. Why is that, you suppose?”

“Love.” She answered plainly.

It was unlikely to be a satisfactory answer. No doubt Gerwald had his own answer. The right answer.

“I could touch the water.” Gerwald claimed boldly. That drew another smile from Yasmine. The words were more than hubris. More than his declarations of superiority. They were not said because he was expected to say them or because he wished for her to see him in a way he did not see himself. They were the words of The Wolf and they made her think of Durin.

“Where did you come from? What were you doing up there?” the looming black, green-eyed monster questioned as the bite of his steel kissed her neck sharp enough that the snow at her feet became dotted with red.

She tried to explain to the blackened monster that she had climbed the falls and tasted the tears. It did not understand her speech. It stood still as the mountains and hard as iron with a questioning look.

She cupped her hands, mocked drinking and pointed to the falls and its veil of ice.

“Up there?” The monster asked, turning its viridescent gaze from her.

She nodded. Biting steel withdrew from her flesh and slid into leather with a whisper. The monster took her face in his hand and lifted her face to inspect the place where her blood had fallen from. His hands were rough but not harsh, His grip was firm but not painful, and the way he tilted her head was caring but not gentle.

“I shall drink as well.” The monster said but not to her though they were quite alone. It spoke to the falls, commanding its will to the very water itself. A challenge in this holy place for the Gods themselves to dare defy it.

Heavy hard footfalls led the beast from her and to the falls. The same rough hands worked deftly to remove the adamantine obsidian that encased its true form. There was a metallic clank as it shed its sable steel skin. The monster was no longer black. He stood bare-chested in the snow, a hand on the fall's icy fangs, he was not black but iridescent.

The monster seemed hardly a monster at all.

Gerwald drew her back from her dream.

“If I were challenging her for the title you would be correct. But recall my words, I told her if she would not keep her oath I would challenge her. Perhaps the nuance is not something our kind here understand, but I did not directly challenge her. I simply gave her an ultimatum, and when I spoke the truth to her, that she was not strong enough to win, she chose to fulfill her promise.”

“You must think you are very clever, Gerwald, or that I am very simple. Both are most likely true but I am not blind nor do I think are you. Dress it up however you like, twist your words and their meaning into knots like the toothless serpents they are.” Yasmine tried with great effort to maintain her calm, yet her frustration threatened to bubble over.

“When you told her ‘help me or I shall take from you’ that is as direct a challenge as any that could be laid before her. When you say that she failed to fulfill her oath to you because she was lacking as a leader, that is a direct challenge, and that does not change because you say it does. To deny such would be to deny that fire is hot. You may say it and you may believe it. It may even hold true for you but fire would burn the rest of us all the same.”

“You would not be the first to say such a thing to me.” Gerwald said when she proclaimed him to be lost.

And yet you would still claim it not to be so.

Was her thought just as he proved her right. She pulled her hand away from his.

“It is only here on Islimore, by finding Bloodraven, I learned the truth of my clan. I am not as lost as you may think, but rather I am simply pushing for something my ancestors put into motion centuries before this moment.”

His smile faded.

“You think because you know where you are, you are not lost?” She asked him with the same patience she would use with her son.

She had no other words for him. He would listen or he wouldn’t. It made no matter.

Any fool can walk through the dark woods and say to themselves ‘I am not lost. I am in the forest.’

“I am not lost, Yasmine. I am alone.”

Alone.

The word struck her deep. Theirs was not the only fire burning in the great hall as many refugees had found the cold hard to bear. Dozens of songs were sung as braziers burned. The smell of meat charing was in the air, mixed with the uncertainty and fear of these common Wolves light years from any home they had known. Some passed their time with talk or dice. One rather large greying Wolf was telling a story to his grandchildren and trying to teach them wufi. There was life all around Gerwald and yet still he found no joy in it, no solace, no belonging.

Alone.

“You need not be, Gerwald of Clan Lechner.” She assured him softly.

“What are you pushing for?” She asked, remembering, his words.

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Yasmine of The Wilds

She was not understanding, and he supposed for the moment she would not. Gerwald supposed he needed to stop expecting the wolves of Islimore to understand the ways of outsiders. More so, he needed to expect them to understand that he did not care about their ways. They had seen the technology of the Fayth, the unity they possessed, and yet they all continued to act like primitive creatures.

Like wolves…

Oh Gerwald knew the irony of his thoughts. He did not fault any for acting like wolves, but he could fault them for refusing to advance. How far they had fallen since the golden era. Where they had once been the innovators, they now turned to baser instincts. They were wolves, but they were also humans. It was the nature of being Lupo, a lesson Gerwald had learned the hard way.

He simply nodded.

"As you see it…"

Yasmine pulled her hand away and Gerwald did not reach to keep it. Freedom was something he valued more than anything else and he could not deny the wolves their right to choose. It did. It mean he wasn't going to fight for them to change. They needed to, and the more Aelin stayed with them, the more like them she became. The one who claimed she could bridge between Gerwald's world and the old ways had failed because she listened to those who pushed her toward an ancient path. The same path that had gotten them all killed before.

His was a lonely life. From the time he was born Gerwald had always been told he was different. Among the crowds of humans on Stewjon he still had to hide. His siblings had scattered. Varick had joined them for a time, but had not stayed. Among the confederacy he had made his place, but learned that leadership was also lonely. Oh he had his friends and those who would attach themselves to him, but the calamity that brought the great nations end had seen all of them scatter as well.

Gerwald had built the camps with many of the Lupo which had been killed in the attack, and yet he had not lived among them. He was tired of watching people die, and in an attempt to please everyone, Aelin continued to choose tactics that would ensure only that.

He simply looked at Yasmine. If she only knew.

"Change.”

It was a simple word, but it was more complex than that. He had no need to explain himself, however. There was one phrase that would convey what he meant perhaps.

"Dismantling of the old ways. Adapting to become something new. The death of the gods."

He wondered what Yasmine would think of it all. Perhaps she would understand why he was alone. Gerwald could have asked her definition of lost, and he likely would, but he was not lost, he was simply trying to do something that at the core would cut at the fabric of who the wolves on Islimore were.

"Whatever phrase you think best suits the situation. Geralt had many ways of describing it in his journal. The Fayth left Islimore and brought back what they learned from beyond the stars. Have we?"

He let the quiet hang between them as he looked at the fire again. It called to him, almost daring him to step into it. The wolf was strong enough he could protect himself from the flames, but then how would they purge him of his own impurities.

"I am told by Freya these are my people. Aelin had said the same thing. You imply I can belong here, and yet the way everyone stares at me when I walk about clearly an outlander tells a different story."

A more serious question threatened to fly from the top of Gerwald's tongue, one he had been daring to ask in several ways. He was a wolf trapped between worlds, part of both, but truly belonging to none of them. Had Yasmine said he no longer knew himself, he would have agreed, but to him that was different than being lost. He needed to find himself again. Would the witch help?

"Would you accept me as I am," he turned to her again. "Even if I am lost, as you say?"​

 

[Yasmine of The Wilds]

Wearing | Location | Gerwald Lechner​

She made no attempt to interrupt him.

“Change.”

“The death of the gods.”

This one would have us do the Fayth’s work for them.

The thought was bitter in her mouth. He was not just lost. He scrambled around in the dark surrounded by thorns and bid those who carried torches to snuff them out and join him, for he alone knew the way.

She grew suddenly uncomfortable. The fire blazoned black and cold and in its song, she could hear millions of voices screaming. Or was it cheering that she heard? She tried to listen closer and still could not parse agony from ecstasy.

It struck her suddenly that the song was neither joy nor pain. It was the cry of birth. The birth of what?

The flame was no longer black and cold but glazed again with heat and light and from her song came to Yasmine a voice, more clear than any in the great hall.

The end and the beginning. The past and the future. Fire and famine, hearth and home.

V́atyn’s breath had allowed Yasmine to divine Xæiar’s word. If only she could make sense of them as well.

In the center of the flame where it burned white hot for a heartbeat Yasmine was certain she could see the face of Durin, her love, but just as quick as he was there he was gone and it was Gerwald’s pensive reflection that stared at her through the flame.

She recalled a conversation she’d had with Durin, one of the last she’d had before he’d gone away never to return to her, and one of many that sounded familiar to the one she and Gerwald shared now.

Her mate had been restless for weeks, plagued by a desire for…something.

For five straight nights she had awoken while Krova still held court in her starry kingdom and found herself alone in her bed. When she went to look for Durin she found him sitting naked upon his throne in the great hall, his father’s sword clutched in his hands, moonlight shining off the edge of the blade, sharp enough still to take a life without thought.

“Durin,” she had called to him. He looked up and regarded her with a smile as sharp as the blade. “Why are you here my love and not abed with me?”

“I was looking for something.” He told her softly as she sat at his feet, laying her head against his leg.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” She asked.

“Yes and no.” He replied.

“Which part gives you trouble?” She asked as he began to stroke her hair lightly.

“Each part brings trouble in turn.” He said, sounding weary. “It feels as if I am under the sea, nearly about to drown, somewhere below me is Naé’s kingdom full of treasure, magic, and the wine of The Gods, and above me is the safety of breath and life. The water is black as ink and heavy as iron. I cannot know if I should swim up and save myself from drowning or swim on and rejoice with Naè, nor could I tell which way is which even if I wanted to make a choice.”

“So, you are lost, my love?” Yasmine had asked.

“No, not lost. I am exactly where I am meant to be. I am merely searching.” He answered her.

His touch was so gentle and calming she feared she would fall asleep.

“Searching for what?” Yasmine asked dreamily.

“Something more,” Durin answered after a moment.

Yasmine’s eyes opened to their reflection in the blade.

Yasmine was drawn away from her recollections at the sound of Gerwald’s voice.

"I am told by Freya these are my people. Aelin had said the same thing. You imply I can belong here, and yet the way everyone stares at me when I walk about clearly an outlander tells a different story."

“The story it tells is one you wish to be told,” Yasmine told him. If he hoped for pity he would find none from her. Perhaps it was not pity that he sought, rather reassurance, mayhaps he was tired of being so sure of himself, tired of having all the answers, perhaps he wished to be wrong and to yet not be a fool.

“You are an Outlander.” She reminded him. “An outlander with a clan name as famous as any in our history. Of course, they stare, why should they not? I have lived in this keep longer than I ever lived in the wilderness, I shed blood in the birthing bed and gave The North an heir and yet all name me Yasmine of The Wilds, many sought to make me unwelcome, some were even so bold as to bring war over such things. Should I have let them drive me away? Listen not to those with small minds or black hearts, Gerwald. Why should the glances of strangers mean more than the words of those who know you, hm? These Wolves may be your people but they are not your Pack.”

"Would you accept me as I am," he turned to her again. "Even if I am lost, as you say?"

She leaned close to Gerwald. Her lips pressed lightly as fresh fallen snow against his cheek.

“No,” she told him with a sad smile. “But that does not mean I would abandon you. Some may find strength in solitude but that is not our way, it is not The Old Way. If you are lost, that means you may yet again be found. So no Gerwald Lechner, I do not accept you being lost, but I will not give up on you and I will not stop searching.”

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Yasmine of The Wilds

She was such an oddity. On one hand she did not accept him, nor would she, lost as she saw him. Yet, she did. Acceptance was an interesting thing, but hers was just as conditional as so many before her. In this the hurdle was one that had become Gerwald’s nature.

Solitude.

Did she not know his moniker among their kind? Gerwald Lechner, Alpha of None. She spoke of a pack, but what of the wolf that did not have one. There were no others of his name, and he had no army to offer. It was the only thing Brynjar Thriest was correct about. There would be no warriors offered from Gerwald Lechner. The wolf knew that was not his place or function. It did not bother him in that sense. What tugged at his mind was her assertion his life was not their way… not the Old Way.

He had never lived according to the Old Way. For him to do so would mean the wolf was indeed lost. It would mean living according to something he had never known. Oh, Gerwald fought the pressure to conform, but doing so would make him untrue to who he was, to the warrior and leader he had become.

“No they are not my pack,” he answered softly. “I do not have a pack.”

It was a simple truth, and the statement was not offered for debate. Gerwald was simply assuming she did not know. Her words may have been different had she been aware.

Her lips were soft against his cheek. Despite the frigid air around them, the kiss was warm, almost as though a small ember from the fire had brushed against his cheek. Yasmine stood closer now than she had yet to this point. Gerwald moved closer, his arms wrapping around the woman. It seemed the natural response. His lips touched briefly to her forehead. How long had it been since he had allowed himself to be this close to a woman in even this way? There was something kindred between them, and he knew that, like him, she was an outsider who had made a home among wolves that were not her own.

“You would not abandon me? Those are words I have heard before. Yet for some reason I do not doubt yours.”

Gerwald lifted a hand and brushed the back of it against the she-wolf’s cheek.

“I have never run though the snow of these lands, and I cannot recall the last time I ran with another of our kind. Perhaps I have been among humanity for too long.”

The moon was high. The night air was cold. Gerwald could see the vapor of his breath with every word and yet as he dropped the fur cape and let the leather breastplate fall from his torso, Gerwald gave every indication he wanted to let the wolf free.

“Run with me.”​