Faction We Are All Bound by Purpose [Open to Dawnguard, PM to join]

[Thurion Heavenshield]

​

A spectacular duel took place within the ruined hall of kings, now so devoid of its former splendours. There was Gríma the Hagraven, Queen of the Underworld and Goddess of Death, scourge of the living and destroyer of hope. Facing her was but a man, fighting not to destroy but to save lives. Thurion of House Heavenshield, Warden of Westmark and Lord of Fridheim. A Golden Lion fighting to defend his pride.

A father, a brother, and a son. All throughout his life he'd seen tragedy and hardship, from the moment he was brought into this world. He realised now that each struggle he'd ever faced had brought him to this moment, where everything he's ever loved and held dear rested on his shoulders. He could not afford to fail nor falter, even should it be the end of him.

So it was that the mere mortal stood his ground against a god, as elven-forged steel weathered the assault of Gríma's might and trickery, for she was fond of summoning several more blades than the one she wielded from thing air, all bearing down on the beleaguered Jedi Master. Yet he stood his ground, an immovable rock no tide could ever sweep aside. It took all his skill to be a match for the Crone, and in a prolonged fight there could only be one victor.

But then his wife appeared, as silent as the dead of night, hoping to end things quickly. But Gríma was not easily fooled, and so turned just in time to wrap her talons around Coci's neck, holding her up helplessly and delighting in slowly choking the life out of the woman, for she knew how it would affect her rival.

Yet there are things not even gods could hope to understand, nor any other truly immortal beings in the universe to whom the passage of time is but a figure. One such thing is the absolute fury of a man witnessing the suffering of his greatest love at the hands of such unbridled evil.

He lunged forward with sword held high, bearing his full might - even further strengthened by the risk of losing his beloved - down on Gríma. She raised her free hand to summon more blades in her defense to halt his advance, but none of these were enough to deter him. Each blade the Crone placed between herself and the roaring lion was shattered when Anarion cut through the air, returning each to the shadows from which they'd spawned.

Her wicked grin turned to frustration, and finally to despair upon realising all her efforts were for naught, and Thurion's blade cut clean through the arm with had held Coci at her mercy, severing it at the elbow. The Crone writhed in pain, screaming and cursing at the top of her lungs. All at once her illusions would fall apart, dissipating the shadowy forms the others were faced with. Thurion caught Coci as she fell from the Crone's grasp, gently setting her down on the ground and tearing a piece from his blue cape to place around her neck.

The two looked each other in the eyes before nodding to one another. With a soft kiss upon her forehead he then stood and faced Gríma yet again, walking towards her with sword in hand. On the way he kicked her severed arm across the floor, sputtering black blood from its open wound.

"Funny thing about being a 'mere, pitiful mortal'," he spoke with utter disgust at the raving goddess clutching what remained of her left arm in complete disbelief. "Our lives are filled with pain. Every day we are made aware of its existence. It shapes us, makes us stronger. Stronger than the likes of you will ever know."

Another slash of his sword gave her a nasty cut across her leg, the power of the sun imbued within the blade searing her skin, increasing the pain tenfold. Gríma fell backwards, howling in pain and looking up at Thurion standing over her. There was fear in her blank eyes. Being a god, she was unaccustomed to physical pain the likes of which she herself had so often imposed on others.

"For years you haunted my every waking moment," he continued as he leaned over her trembling form on the floor, grabbing her by the throat to pull her up to look into his eyes. "Ever since you gave me this," he showed her the scars upon his face, along with his blind eye. "May this face to be the last thing you see as you draw your last breath, Hag. I banish thee, like my father before me! Permanently!"

Thurion shoved the end of Anarion through her chest so far it stuck out her back. Gríma's whimpers turned to gargles as she choked on her own blood.

At that moment, high above them, the sky lit up as an immense explosion erupted which disrupted the portal looming over them. Thurion turned his head to look over his shoulder, and all at once his mood shifted. "Thyrian...!" The Crone saw her chance, and with a weak flick of her wrist she vanished into thin air, leaving Thurion with a blood-soaked blade in his hand.

Coci Heavenshield | Eyna ​

 

[Eyna]

Coci Heavenshield // Thurion Heavenshield // Nida Perl

Breathing had become even harder. Each step that Eyna took felt like a whirlwind as the pain from her wound grew increasingly difficult to contain. Back on her feet she staggered over towards Grima as if to prove a point. Not to the Crone but to herself, that she was still alive.

Yet as Coci leapt into view, as the Crone wrapped her hands around the woman’s throat and threatened to end her Eyna suddenly stopped. Worry shot through her body as she extended her hand towards them.

“No,” A meek whimper parted her lips. “Please.”

Yet it fell on deaf ears. Her words could not carry. There was too much blood lost, the pain overbearing as the world began to turn dark. A cold set over her as the hopelessness of her situation slowly began to fade with her consciousness. Her arm fell by her sides and slapped against the side of her thigh. The impact threw her off-balance. Her legs shook before finally they too gave way.

Her cheek hit the floor,

Her eyes closed.

And one last breath parted her lips.

One of the Shadows having seen the girl fall rushed over to place his hand against her wound. For the moment Eyna was still alive, but that time slot was quickly coming to a close. The force poured into her body to stabilize her with one of the other shadows quickly coming up to help get her away from there.

 

[Thyrian Hearthfire]

​

The build-up of power within him was immense, almost impossible to control. Never before had he pushed himself so hard, way past his known limits. Slowly but surely, he could feel his actions slip away from him and become a thing of their own. Even had he wanted to, he could not stop what was about to happen.

While losing himself to this power - this demon, which has dwelled within him ever since he was brought back into existence by the Sith scientists, Thyrian had little else to do but reflect upon his life. His life as a boy, as a demon, and finally as a man.

He remembered the good years of his early childhood. Living with his mother and father on Pelagon. A simple but carefree time. He was happy.

After that, his later childhood spent caring for his younger brother on the streets. Mother had passed away, and father was gone. It was just the two of them. "Eat, Thurion." "But, what about you?" "I'm fine, not that hungry." He was, of course. But the life of his little brother had always mattered more to him than his own.

Then, following the incident at the orphanage, his reawakening. A beast, a slave. Consumed by a burning rage and used as a weapon by the Sith. His master, Darth Kyros. He, Darth Taral. These two no longer existed, erased and forgotten. Only Thyrian, and Kära.

"Kära," he uttered even as conscious thought was leaving him. "Snowflake." A plethora of vivid images flashed before his eyes. Their every moment together. How she pushed him to reunite with his long-lost brother. Their wedding day, when they swore themselves to each other not as master and apprentice, but as husband and wife. The birth of their first child.

"Thrand."

The name also made flashes of his father appear. Their reunion had been brief, but powerful. He never saw the demon within him. He only saw his little boy, treated so harshly by the world. But the father passed, and the son succeeded him. The wrong son. It was always supposed to be Thurion.

Within the fiery inferno which took its toll on his ravaged body, Thyrian stared down the visage of the demon that had dwelled within him for so long. "No more. Begone." The infernal beast let out a roar that only he could hear, until finally all the built-up power was unleashed in a massive explosion.

The darkened skies were set aflame, and the swirling portal was torn asunder, destabilised until it collapsed in on itself.

With the destruction of the portal, the blackness which had seized the skies began to melt away. As the first rays of sunlight struck Thyrian's face, he smiled. He became engulfed in his father's embrace, and rather than falling to his doom he was gently levitated down towards the ground by some divine power.

His work was done. The Phoenix King had earned his rest.

Coci Heavenshield | Eyna | Nida Perl ​

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

Thirdas didn't remember much of the flight back to the casualty tents behind their battle lines, only that he found himself tended to by skilled Jedi healers and their helpers consisting of volunteers of all races, many of them refugee children from Tháinbroek. He couldn't feel his right leg or right arm, and his skin had turned a sickly purple and his veins underneath black. Didn't take a medical genius to figure out he was in bad shape.

He looked over to find Nida at his side, trying her best at keeping a brave face. She looked adorable. She always did no matter the situation.

Without a word he reached for her hand and placed her palm upon his chest, keeping it there. Despite it all, he was still able to offer her a gentle smile. "Nida," he uttered softly as their eyes met. "Please... do what you must. It's only blood and bone. They can be replaced..."

He'd seen it countless times before. Every time the Rangers returned from a battle or a campaign limbs had been lost only to be replaced with cybernetics. Though, he must admit he never expected to be on the receiving end of an amputation.

The other healers all agreed that time was of the essence. They'd been given the all-clear from their patient. An elderly Beorni lady offered to escort Nida away so she would not need witness the procedure unless she insisted otherwise.

Thirdas received sedation and didn't take long to fall into a deep slumber. The last thing he remembered seeing was Nida's expression of worry. Yet he was at peace; he wanted to live, and unless they amputated the infection would surely spread. Once unconscious, the healers went to work. Fortunately they had access to more advanced medical equipment brought from the Fortress of Dawn, and needn't rely on the trusty old bonesaw.

~oOo~​

By the time the sedatives wore off the procedure was long completed, and at first Thirdas wasn't sure they'd done anything to him at all. It felt just as it had prior to his slumber, no feeling in either leg or arm. Only when he was able to tilt his head to look down his body he found that on his right side there was just nothing. No arm hanging at his side. Looking farther down, he noticed just one foot poking up at the end of the stretcher.

His head settled and he reached over with his left arm to find out for certain. Sure enough, where an arm had once hung from his shoulder there was naught but a neat surgical scar. His skin was raw and tender, and would require time to heal before a prosthesis could be fitted.

"Nida," he looked around in a daze. "Nida?" He hadn't realised she'd been there all this time to witness his reawakening. Again their hands met and he brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. Suddenly a loud explosion in the distance caught everyone's attention. The sound was like a mountain being cracked open, coupled with an intense thunderstorm.

"Help me sit up," he asked of her. He still had one good arm he could support himself on, however his sense of balance was greatly disturbed along with the medication wearing off. From within their tent they could see the vast portal hovering above the ruined city collapse in on itself.

Thirdas looked on with awe, though he knew not what had become of those closest to him. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing their sacrifice would appear to have not been in vain. He put his arm around Nida and rested her head upon his shoulder, placing a kiss upon her pink forehead.

Suddenly, Thirdas let out a chuckle. "Victory, at the cost of an arm and a leg."

"Looks like I'll be taking an extended leave of absence."

Nida Perl | Coci Heavenshield ​

 

[Thrand Dawnbringer]

​

Gríma had had just enough strength to summon a portal to take her away - anywhere - to get away from her would-be murderers. She reappeared some distance away from the city, on the crest of a hill with woods at her back and the bloody field of battle before her. Even as she lay choking on her own blood she managed an arrogant snicker, which soon turned to a cackle.

She'd eluded her enemy's vengeance yet again, she thought. Of course the portal had been lost and her countless legions slaughtered as they seek to flee the scene, but once her strength was regained she could simply portal home and plan an even more devastating assault on the living.

Believing the tales that gods are invincible herself, Gríma attempted to stand simply walk off the hole in her chest and regrow her severed arm. Immediately she crumbled on the ground and howled in pain, realising her wounds were not healing at all. In fact, were they getting worse?

"I cannot die!" She cursed the world where she lay on the cold ground. "I am a god! The Goddess of Death! No mere mortal can ever slay me!"

"Gríma," a calm voice interrupted her self-pity, causing her to cease her wailing and turn on the ground. There she saw a divine light appear small at first, until it took the shape of a man. The Crone's face took on a look of utter disgust.

"You! Come to gloat, have you, Dawnbringer? Look at what your beloved son did to me!" The being who was once known as Thrand stood over her helpless form with that stoic, grim expression, quietly judging the wretched thing. "You brought this on yourself, Gríma Hagraven," he simply said and stepped aside to reveal another who had appeared alongside him.

All at once Gríma's facade of confidence was shattered. "My lord! My love..." She forgot about her wounds and scrambled to her knees, pausing only briefly to spit up some more blood. There stood none other than the Allfather Himself, face obscured by His horned helmet. Only His one good eye stared down at her as she groveled before Him, reaching for His hand to slober with bloody kisses.

"Dear brother, just look at how these... cattle have hurt poor Gríma! It-it was his boy that caused this," she pointed an accusatory finger at Thrand, yet neither figure said anything. "Him and his harlot wife! W-we must punish them for this, yes? To-together we'll slaughter the lot of them, and feast on their corpses!"

Odiir Allfather settled a hand upon the Crone's cheek, which silenced her incessant grovelling. She stared up into His shadowy face, expecting to hear what she wished to hear. But then, suddenly, the Allfather simply turned away from her and walked away. Thrand cast one last glance at the pitiful creature before he too turned and left here there, alone.

The wind picked up, russling the trees surrounding her. A flock of black ravens appeared upon each branch of every tree, dozens and dozens of them, filling the air with their foreboding croaking. Gríma hissed in pain as she managed to get up on her feet despite the terrible state she was in, looking up at the flock of ravens with contempt at first, but soon she became fearful. She turned her head in confusion.

"Velkar! My sweet boy, w-where are you?! Mommy needs you!" Had he betrayed her too? Surely not...

The ravens now left their branches and began circling her, closer and closer while she stumbled about in vain attempts at defending herself. She fell to her knees once more and shouted curses at the skies. As she did, the flock of ravens closed in even further until they covered her entire being, and the yelling ceased to be.

"Velkar, please..."

The ravens sat there for a moment, calm and still, before finally scattering back into the woods. Gríma was nowhere to be seen, removed from existence once and for all.

Coci Heavenshield | Nida Perl | Eyna ​

 

[Velkar]

The Allfather had summon him, called upon to take on the visage of the angel of death. The Gods have their own sense of justice among themselves, swift and harsh and forever. Grima the Hagraven would feel the wrath of justice put upon her. She had not only sort the destruction of all the races of Midvinter, but the death of all the Gods. With no living soul to believe in them, to have faith in them, they would all simply fade away.

He walks among the tall trees of the forest, passed the thick trunks of pine and sweet gentle saplings that push through the snow cover toward the heavens with new life. A sense of spring in the air, as white snow flowers bud and bloom and around him, the peeking of small creature watch him as he passes. It is a stark contrast the battlefield beyond the forest, black and red with blood of the fallen. Soon the Angels of the Souls would ride upon their charges taking the worthy to their final rest. Already he can hear their wings and their sombre song.

Eyes as green as the nettles, lift. His gaze cuts through the forest to look upon the light so bright as the Sun. Dawnbringer and with him, his father. Velkar raises his arms, his palms facing toward the heavens, Huginn and Muninn appeared settling there and from the clouds fly the flock of countless Hrafn.

Velkar broke through the line of trees and stood behind Grima, his mother. Wordlessly, the Allfather passed his judgement and his sentence was passed, with a simple gesture before turning to walk away. The fear in Grima shuddered through the realm of the gods and all would turn their backs to her.

Above her swirled the Hrafn, their red eyes fixed on the woman now broken on the ground call for her son. Her son was not here, in his stead the Angel that would banish her for all eternity. He stood in front of her, his eyes looking upon her face one last time as she called his name, a pleading for her life. Huginn and Muninn remained in place on his arms to bear witness as the Hrafn descended on her to take her life. They would return to Odiir heralding the news.

There was a rupture in ethereal web around them, her spirit broken into pieces and became one with it. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but not for the death of mother, but for the reminder of the betrayal of his father. Odiir the Allfather, had kept this secret from him for what purpose, he did not know, and he hated him for it. A cursed child, once more, a tool for his work when summoned and he always would be.

The Hrafn dispersed, flying north, south, east and west to keep vigil over Midvinter. Velkar lowered his arms, turned to walk away and across the battlefield among the dead.

Thurion Heavenshield | Eyna | Nida Perl ​

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

It felt like she had been falling for ages. Her mind in a state of confusion with the lack of reasoning which had been taken from her as she struggle to keep conscious. The next moment Coci was looking into the face of her beloved husband, a smile on his lips as she kissed her forehead and, in that moment, she thought they were all dead. So, was this what bliss feels like? If that was the case, she would be happy to move on into the next life. But as he placed cloth around her neck, no that was an action that came from the present and the horror was still all around them.

Coci took in air, trying to fill her lungs, a rasping burning effort to do so. She could not help Thurion any longer, he had to face the Crone alone and deep down some part of her knew this, it was his destiny. She could not see Thyrian anymore, Theo was safe by Kara’s side, trying to protect the circle of people around them. Eyna.

With blooded hands, pain in her chest, Coci crawled toward the girl laying unmoved. She felt the touch of invisible hands under her arms helping her before the Knight appeared from the shadows. Eyna was breathing, a shallow breath, her Dawnguard Knights doing their best to keep her stable. Coci’s trembling hand touched her cheek, she was cold and slipping away. With what little strength she had left, Coci touched upon her mind, calling her back from the darkness that would take her.

Behind her, the Crone vanished, running in fear from a foe that would see the end of her if she did not. Was victory at hand? She would not dare to hope for that in case it would curse the thought. “Thurion”, a whispered call to her him, her voice still paining her. “Help her”. Eyna needed a healer of great skill, this was beyond her ability.

She brushed way the grime from Eyna’s face, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear in a tender gesture a mother would do for her child. But she kept whispering to her mind, calling her back.


Eyna | Thurion Heavenshield | Nida Perl

 

[Ióunn Ar-Olwa]

The amount of power summoned to create the lightning strikes upon the foul beast had taken a toll from her. Even she did not have unlimited strength to continue on this way. Thrand had felled the beast and headed toward the capital, or what was left of it. The close she got the more concern she felt for her father in law and the family. She could not see what was happening, only the portal rupturing in flame and what was causing it, they would find out soon enough.

On the ground, her steed fly across the battlefield, swift as any horse had the ability and no wavering in its stride. Such was the mettle of the war horse, that would set fear in anyone that stood against them, as they charged.

She rode through the ruined gates, the street void of anything, anyone, they were empty and silent as the grave. Ash fell around her, like snow covering bodies that lay cut down. Men, women and children, none were spared. Among them were Aelvar, their lifeless eyes looking to the skies for peace and she would look upon their faces, each and every one of them and keep their memory alive in her heart. She dismounted and let the horse free.

For now, she was alone.

Time seemed to stand still, yet without any direction, Iounn stood at the base of the steps to the Grand Hall, and looked up at the ruined structure. Wind seemed to come from nowhere and caught the tail of a piece of cloth laying among the debris. She reached for it, pulled it from the ash. The banner of House Heavenshield. Blue and gold with rampant lion. Another, in the ash, red and silver with the phoenix. A stag, a wolf, Boar, leaping salmon and other houses, dirty and charred but still bearing the colours with pride.

She kept them all, they would fly again one day.


Thrand Hearthfire | Eyna | Nida Perl

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

​

Thurion watched for a brief moment as his older brother was gently descended from the skies, enveloped in the radiant glow of their father. When the soft words of his wife called to him, he was brought back to his immediate surroundings. He sheathed his sword and rushed to her side, and to that of her apprentice.

"Eyna... Keep calling to her, she's slipping away from us." The girl's connection to Coci would make the journey back to the world of the living more bearable knowing those close to her were there waiting for her. Thurion settled one hand upon her heart, the other upon her forehead, and with a serene mind he called upon the Force to aid him in his endeavour, as it had many times prior.

"Speak now, Coci. She can hear you." While his wife would convince her spirit to return, he would work on mending the wound sustained by the Crone's wraith and expel the corruption from her body. Sinew torn apart where the dark blade had struck was slowly knit back together, her flesh returned to a healthy pink. She would be left with a scar, yet this too would eventually mend with the passage of time.

Once the girl showed signs of recovery thanks to the soothing words of her master, Thurion would turn his attention to Coci. He undid the knot binding the piece of blue cloth to her injured neck, gently caressing her bruised skin with his fingertips. Through them he would send waves of healing energy, alleviating her pain and stimulating her breathing as well as her vocal chords. The bruises themselves would heal on their own accord.

Suddenly there was a sharp spike of pain in his left temple, moving down his forehead towards the left side of his face. He recoiled and hissed from the sudden pain, clutching his face and massaging his temple in the attempt to relieve it. But this was no mere headache, as they would soon find out.

It passed within seconds of appearing, and by the time he removed his hand his milky-white eye was bit by bit being returned to its original state. A black pupil appeared at its centre, and surrounding it an iris of the deepest blue faded back into existence. "Coci, what..." Though he himself could not witness the changes, he found that his cone of vision was improving. For so long he'd been used to seeing only half a world, that he'd forgotten what it was like seeing all of it at once.

Touching his face once more, it was as if the everlasting scars inflicted by the Crone during their first encounter were finally healing, and at an astounding rate at that. He watched the expression of joy and wonder in his wife's face and could only replicate it himself, reaching out to caress her cheek. "There she is," he said with the gentlest of smiles. "There is my Coci."

He embraced her where they sat by Eyna's side, elated at this turn of events. At long last, something to celebrate, however small and fleeting! It was a much welcomed ray of hope in these times of seemingly endless gloom and doom.

Could this mean, the Crone is no more?

Coci Heavenshield | Eyna ​

 

[Eyna]

Thurion Heavenshield // Coci Heavenshield // Nida Perl

At first there had been a struggle. Eyna, pushing against the tide as the waves engulfed her, dragged her down piece by piece until her head couldn’t break the surface anymore. At first it was terrifying. She was alone, she was unheard, and she knew that this was it. And yet as her muscles loosened she felt her heart pound against her chest. A warmth spread across her body and her head was held above the surface of the water again.

Sweeping breaths gently stirred in her chest as someone slowly spoke to her. An unknown voice, yet all too familiar echoed around the room with a hum as a soft hand brushed through Eyna’s hair. The girl felt no panic, felt little to anything at all, and yet she was at peace in here.

“You finally see.” It was a woman’s voice. “You are breaking free.”

No matter how hard she tried to place it, she wasn’t familiar with the voice. Tears trickled down the raven-haired girl’s cheeks as she glanced up at the void above, her head resting against the lap of this glowing entity that tried to calm her.

“They’re dead.” Her voice whimpered. “I failed.”

“I think you will find reality is not what you think it is.” The voice spoke and continued to hum her song.

“But I failed, I’m—” Eyna exhaled and sobbed. “I’m a disappointment.”

The humming stopped and a silence grasped at the room. The sound of the dark watery waves as they gently sunk into the blackened sand beneath them disappeared as the creature slowly turned Eyna around to stare into her eyes. There was pain behind them, as if she had just heard the most dumbest lie of her life.

“Nonsense.” The voice echoed as the creature — no, woman — stared into Eyna’s eyes, her warmth still as radiant as ever. “You can never disappoint me.”

The darkness around them slowly began to fade into something brighter. As Eyna tried to sit up she found herself held down by the woman, unable to move. A muffled voice called for her, a voice she could recognize: Coci. She was waking up.

But no, this woman…

Eyna struggled to sit up against the woman, she opened her mouth to speak, she needed to know. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

The woman smiled. “Careful, my child. Don’t let him destroy you.” The answer told Eyna nothing. She opened her mouth to speak yet her lungs began to burn as if she hadn’t drawn breath for far too long. Her throat clogged up, her skin dried up, and in almost in a flash…

She was back again. A deep panicked breath filled her lungs with air as she sat up straight as an arrow from the floor of the keep heaving for breath. Her eyes wandered around the room to see Coci, to see Thurion, to see that the battle was over and they had in fact won. A confused look fell upon the girl as she looked down at her hands to find a remnant piece of the mysterious glow circle around her hand before it faded again and their warmth was gone.

“I’m alive.” She exhaled before she felt the simmering worry again. Seeing Thurion and Coci embrace she considered moving away to give them space, yet that warmth inside crept up again to push her in their direction. A hesitant hand reached out towards the couple before it slowly retracted again.

Yet, almost as if someone pushed her Eyna found herself pushed into the two with a gentle nudge to place her hand on each Heavenshield.

“Thank—” She exhaled, unsure what to say. “Thank you.”

 

[Thrand Hearthfire]

It seemed as soon as the greater demon fell, the battle shifted heavily in their favour as many lesser minions of the Crone turned and fled the field, either further into the city ruins or slipping away into the nearby wilderness. Some of the bigger threats kept up a by-now futile struggle, and when those fell even more started to panic.

The exhausted army of Midvinter poured into the city streets, going to work on purging the ancient capital of any remaining hellspawn; this was no Vinterbound situation, where the cursed undead were allowed to scurry back to their dark pits in utter despair and loss of purpose. They had been part of Midvinter for almost as long as there were people to die.

No, these creatures were not of this earth. Midvinter has no place for their ilk.

The Prince-Consort took to the skies once more on the back of his white stallion, assuming the supervisory role of a commander he'd been forced to undertake when his uncle was nowhere to be seen. From the back of Sleipnir he spotted scores of the Crone's minions fleeing for the nearby woods. Looking down, he noticed a host of riders about to give chase.

"Hold your positions, brave men! The enemy runs toward their own doom," he called out to them, stopping the riders dead in their tracks. Emerald eyes turned to the edge of the forest, having noted the unusual leafwork in some of the treetops. They were of Averlorn.

Once the last demonic stragglers had reached the forest, they were set upon by nature itself. From afar the forest canopies would seem to shift and move on their own, violently thrashing about, and from within the woods came the helpless screams of the Crone's minions as they were wiped out. Once the last trespasser had fallen, the woods became calm once more.

Thrand's gaze now turned to the skies, to witness his father being lowered down within a beam of sunlight. "Come on, boy," he urged Sleipnir to make for his father, hoping to reach him by the time he'd completed his descent.

Ióunn Ar-Olwa ​

 

[Bors Greythorne]

By the time the old warrior was brought out of his knocked out state the greater demon had already been felled, its massive corpse turned over by the combined strength of several Beorni, granting the army passage into the city largely unopposed. He wasn't sure what had caused him to lie on the ground but was harshly reminded as soon as he began to move. A sharp pain in his shoulder.

"Ah, for faen's sake..." Several wooden splinters had embedded themselves in his shoulder, some so small he would need to sit down and remove them with tweezers one by one. The larger ones though, those were the easy ones to get rid. He sat up, leaning against the body of a fallen comrade, and began to pull out the pieces of wood lodged in his shoulder. It hurt like a son-of-a-queen, but he'd had worse.

Once satisfied with the unceremonious procedure, Bors found a spear and stuck it in the ground and proceeded to pull himself up on his feet. Nearby were Nina and Arnor, the former busy addressing the latter's wounds. The old man kneeled down beside them. "That looks pretty nasty," he remarked on the Beorni's thick scars across his chest. Nina gave him a look that said "you don't say".

"Thank you, Grey-Boar," she instead offered, for him placing himself in harm's way earlier. "Will you be alright?" Bors dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand. "What, this? Don't you worry yourself, lass - old boars have thick hides!" Nevertheless, Nina leaned over and gave the old man a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. He reminded her of Grandpapa.

"Right, well... I really must go find your brother and father, they should be somewhere in the city--" He was cut off. "They are inside the Great Hall," Nina interjected, able to locate them at all times. "Go on then, Uncle Bors," she gave him a playful nudge and a sweet smile.

He stood and let out a high-pitched whistle, summoning to him his old nag. With some difficulty he got up in the saddle, having only one good arm at the moment. He rode through the destroyed gates, hocking a loogie at the corpse of their foe in passing.

Through the ensuing chaos of the army purging the city of demon filth he rode, making for the Great Hall upon its hill. When at the foot of the hill, he dismounted and took in the sight of the ruined seat of High Kings past. "Oh, the countless times I prayed something like this would have befallen that damnable place," he muttered grumpily as he began his climb up the steps. "Preferrably with the Usurper still inside."

The last time he climbed these steps was following the defeat of said usurper, in the days of the Rebellion. Decades prior to that, his childhood sweetheart had taken her own life in those halls yonder, rather than submit to the Usurper's wishes of taking her into his bed. It was not a climb the old man made peacefully.

Once having reached the summit, he was out of breath and had to stop. "Ah, yes. That's why I hate it so," he was reminded of the other reason.

Stepping inside the once-glorious throne room now laid to waste, he found not only the lords and lady Heavenshield, but also the Queen herself.

He approached slowly at first so as to not interrupt, but when suddenly Théodred looked like he was about to keel over Bors rushed to his side, steadying him. "Easy there, lad. I've got you."

Théodred Heavenshield | Eyna ​

 

[Théodred Heavenshield]

Operating on pure will power, Théo continued to cut through the endless horde, the sword he held in his hands shattered them with the slightest touch, but that did not stop him from fatigue. Aunty Kara was not much better, both of them covered in dirty and muck from head to foot, from their battle. He did not witness the sudden halt to the enemy, it was like a horrible dream all the bodies that lay around them piling up from both sides.

Théo stood numb in the mist of it all, let the sword fall from his hands as his father’s arms wrapped around him. Théo did not possess the energy to embrace him back, but allow the sense of relief wash over him. Had they won? His mind did not want to think on that just in case this was the calm before the storm. He doubted he would be able to withstand anymore.

After his mother had fallen, his father cutting the Crone and inflecting an injury that none had done before. Théo allowed a smile, it was the very sword they all had forged back in Averlorn, and he knew in that moment, his ‘gift’ had been a large part of it. And not in vain.

There was an eerie silence around them all, the Crone had fled and there was nothing left of her army in Thainbroek. He looked around to see others entering the what was left of the Grand Hall, equally as dazed as he was at the sight of it all. Théo coughed, his throat dry and he thirsted and now in this moment of quiet, his body began to give out. His legs felt heavy, no matter how hard he tried to move toward his mother and father, he could not move. And all he wanted to do was to lay down.

The movement of a figure entering the doors to the Hall made him look up. It was Bors, looking equally as fatigued and older but he was alone. Théo stumbled toward him, his eyes darting wondering where Thora was, she was supposed to be with him, “Where is my daughter?”. Fear ran through his body, propelling him anew with strength, this above everything was his only concern. “Where is Thora?”.

Bors wrapped his arms around him as he stumbled once again. Théo looked into the old man’s eyes, as he gripped his shoulders hard wanting the answer, desperate for it. All of a sudden, Théo was hit in the gut, buckling over and thrown to the ground with the force of it. On all fours, his breath choking him, he looked up wondering what had hit him, had the horde returned? But nothing, only Bors looking down at him with eyes wide and unsure of what to do for his lord.

What just happened, Théo looked at the palm of his hand to see a soft glowing white light swirling with life and energy, just under his skin, tendrils snaked out from the ball and twisted around his arm moving up and outward to all part of his body. The heat, a radiant heat burned but did not harm him, in fact it was familiar.

The sensation filled his entire body, and slowly he stood up, his breathing returned to him, and all fatigue had gone. In its stead, he felt powerful, more than he had ever done before. Théo could sense everything, everyone around him, and those far afield .. to his daughter Thora safe in the camp. The force had returned to him, which meant only one thing.

The Crone was dead.

Bors Greythorne | Eyna | Thurion Heavenshield

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

​

Thurion reached out to place a hand upon Eyna's shoulder when she came to, thanking the two for her life. "You're our girl," he beamed a smile at her. "You are one of us. No thanks are necessary." He gave her a pat on the shoulder, but the good news seemed to stop there as their son suddenly stumbled and fell. Bors had come to his lord's aid, but there was little the old man could do to help.

"Théodred," he gasped and rushed over to his first boy, fearing he'd been injured during the fight or that the Crone had somehow poisoned him as he himself had been. Thurion knelt by his side on the floor, briefly checking for signs of injury, until all of a sudden Théo's breathing steadied as his strength was returned to him.

Both Thurion and Bors helped him to his feet, with the father clasping his son's face to look him in the eyes. At that moment, he realised what had happened. Just as Théo could once more sense everyone around him, he could now once more sense his own son in the Force. "It's... it's a miracle," he turned to Coci as she approached. "Unless... Gríma," he nodded to himself. "She truly is dead, then."

He tilted his head forward to place his forehead against Théo's, silently reciting a prayer in his head. One that thanked all the known forces at work in the galaxy what had been achieved this day.

Yet again, however, the moment of celebration was cut short. Kära had not spoken a word since the fall of the Crone, but rather drifted off towards the entrance in a trance, eyes turned skywards. With everyone inside the former Great Hall alive and well, Thurion soon followed his childhood friend to stand outside on the steps of the hill, where the ray of golden light came to an end.

There descended Thyrian of House Hearthfire, the Phoenix King. His black armour was in tatters, with indiviual pieces somehow clinging to his body. Much of his wrecked form was now laid bare to the elements. To Thurion, who had ever regarded his big brother so strong and fierce, it was a painful sight to behold.

But none more so for Kära, who with outstretched arms allowed her husband to gently settle in her embrace as he was gracefully returned to the earth. There he now lay in the arms of the woman with whom he had been through everything, looking up at her for the first time with eyes untarnished by unnatural flame.

Thurion knelt down beside the king, cupping his scarred cheek. "Hey... baby brother," he uttered with weak voice, as if having been gently stirred from a blissful slumber. "Hey, big brother," he replied, managing a smile while withholding tears. "Those are the eyes I remember growing up." And they were, for where once there had been two orbs of fire there were now eyes of the most brilliant green, like the rolling hills in the summer. "The ones that cared for me, that comforted me."

The next moment a white winged steed appeared, making its landing further down the steps. Off leapt Thrand, tossing his helmet to the ground as he rushed to his father. "Dad," he called out, only to stop as soon as he witnessed the state of him. Gently he stepped around them until sat at his mother's side, clutching her hand to offer emotional strength both ways.

"My sweet boy," Thyrian whispered as a smile pulled on the corners of his lips. "All grown up. Beautiful... like your mother. Unlike me..."

Meanwhile the bottom of the steps leading up towards the Great Hall were quickly filled with survivors of the bloody battle, inching forward to hopefully lay eyes on their monarch they'd fought so bravely to rescue. But Bors stepped forth, his arms outstretched to deny them any step farther. "For pity's sake, give them some space, lads!"

"Y-you're gonna be okay, Dad," Thrand wanted so dearly to believe, even as he turned his uncle who could offer no comfort. "Isn't he?"

"Thrand," his father spoke wearily, lifting his hand a few inches. Thrand held onto it, squeezing it tight. There was barely any of it returned. "My body is broken." There was a pause, and he could no longer hold back his tears. "You have to let me go."

Coci Heavenshield | Eyna ​

 

[Eyna]

Thurion Heavenshield // Coci Heavenshield

A toothy smile spread on Eyna’s lips as she exhaled in amusement at what Thurion said. Not that it was funny or something to laugh at, but… Well, it was the only reaction she could think of. The joy of the moment tickled against her ribcage — no, her heart — and it just seemed like the only natural reaction to what was happening. She let in a deep breath to ground herself in the moment, and yet no sooner than the thought crossed her mind it would seem it was stripped from them.

The hand that had rested on her shoulder pulled away. Thurion set off into a run and Eyna blinked herself awake as her eyes slowly set on Coci. The girl spun around to look over at Thurion and his son, and with a gentle push she got herself back on her feet again. With a slight stagger she began to approach the two, and yet it would seem when she arrived they were both off again.

As if the skies themselves had opened they were faced with loss.

Eyna couldn’t speak, didn’t feel like it was in her place to.

As Thurion talked to his brother she bowed her head and took a step back to afford them the space to spend what seemed to be their last few moments together. It would go to figure that no war was fought without casualties, and yet…

A weight wrapped around her heart. Where once there had been laughter there was now something else. Each beat felt heavier, every breath more quiet as she merely stood by and observed as the two brothers talked. In came the son, and with it yet another weight on Eyna’s heart.

She kept herself off and in the distance. This was between those that were Heavenshields by blood, or so it felt like.

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

Eyna looked up into her face, and Coci returned her smile, so very glad Thurion was able to pull her back from the edge of death. There was a look in her eye that spoke of a change which more than anything Coci wanted to learn about, but this was not the time for that. For now, they could look forward to days ahead of them, for all of them. She helped Eyna to her feet, without a word but there was heaviness in Coci’s heart.

She could feel Thyrian slipping away from them, his life slowly coming to a rest which he so richly deserved. But there was always a price to pay, that was left for those he would leave behind to put up the cost. The Gods know he had been through so much over his years of life, time was his now to take if he wanted it, and leave on his own terms.

Who could begrudge him that?

The two joined the family, Eyna pulled away wanting not to interfere with a family moment, but it was not just for them not so soon after the battle. A ring of people surrounded him in the grand hall, although the walls were gone, the foundations were not, and it was on this Thyrian lay. As solid as the first day, and will remain so until Midvinter’s last day.

“Come, no one stands alone today. You have fought for the blood of all people of Midvinter when you did not have to, you have every right to join us now”. She took Eyna’s hand and moved toward her brother.

Thrand was there as well as Kara, they would know what was to follow just as much as Coci, after all she had witnessed his before. She leaned down by his ear and spoke words only for Thyrian, words that only he would understand. “So, this is what it takes”, she grinned though her soft words, a small gest about the day, so many years ago, when she tried to kill him. Coci kissed his lips to say farewell for now.

“We love you brother, I love you”. There are never really any goodbyes, only ‘until we meet again’. So, moved away for the others to join him and give their love.


Thyrian Hearthfire | Eyna

 

[Thyrian Hearthfire]

​

Upon hearing his father's words, Thrand clutched his hand tighter and pressed his lips to it, tears streaming down his face. All the while Kära held her husband, gently caressing his greying hair like a mother comforting her child. This man had been a constant in her life since childhood; at first her apprentice, then her husband, now the father of her children. Though it remained unspoken between the two, she knew she would have to stay strong for them.

When Coci appeared followed by Théodred, as well as a girl he had not been introduced to, the king managed yet another weak smile even as she kissed him. "Thank you, sweet sister," he spoke softly, "for taking such good care of my little brother... when I no longer could."

But now his focus turned to Thurion, and his smile faded. "There is something I must ask of you... and you're not going to like it." His brother nodded with growing anxiety at what he had to say. "My son, Thrand... his heart lies with Averlorn now. With his queen. As it should. And the twins... they are much too young to be even considered. Thus, I have no heirs fit to lead our people once I'm gone."

Thurion swallowed hard. "Take the Crown, Thurion," Thyrian reached for his younger brother's cheek, caressing it. "Assume Midvinter's throne. Carry on our father's work and legacy as I have to the best of abilities--" But Thurion now shook his head in protest.

"Thyrian, I... I cannot be king. It goes against everything I've ever been taught as a Jedi. Ruling others - it's not in my nature. Surely there must be someone--" He looked around at the others, sharing a distressed look with his wife. "Thurion... Remember back when our father chose his successor? Every man present wanted you, but they got me instead. Because you had obligations elsewhere, to the Jedi Order."

Thurion nodded. "I do remember." This prompted a smile from Thyrian. "It was always supposed to be you. It should have been you. You have always had the love and admiration of the people, because of your character. They believe in you, as I do." The younger brother, though greatly conflicted, finally gave in to his elder's dying wish. "If such be the will of the people... it would be my duty to serve."

A sigh of relief escaped the fallen king, followed by a series of gasps for air. "There is something else I must do before I go. Théodred... Where is Théodred?"

Once his nephew presented himself, Thyrian reached out to grab hold of his collar with surprising strength. There was a desperation in his voice when he spoke next. "Théo... You have to look after your Papa at all times. He will be greatly burdened in the years to come. Help him. Support him. Shoulder the weight. He will want to carry it alone. Do not let him. Please, promise me..."

Tears now flowed from his own eyes, brought on by his compulsive need to look after his little brother. Once Théo had made his promise, he let him go and his hand dropped to his side. Again he turned to Thurion.

"You are the last of us now, Thurion," he said in regards to their original family. "As it should be. I go now to the golden hall of our great father, in whose mighty company... I shall no longer feel ashamed." There was twitch of a smile at the thought of having earned his eternal rest at peace with himself, after all his past misdeeds.

"I would have followed you, little brother. My Captain. My King." There was such pride in his words as the two brothers shared one last look.

Then his head turned to the side to whisper to his wife one last word as his eyes closed forever. "S-snowflake..."

And the Phoenix King was no more. Kära leaned down to place one last kiss on his cold lips, silent tears wetting her pale cheeks.

Thurion watched the life force of his brother fade away, and every muscle in his face started twitching uncontrollably. He didn't know what to do or say. In the span of mere seconds he turned to Coci as if seeking comfort, only to turn away, then back to his brother's lifeless body. Finally he broke down, weeping like a child. Just as he had five decades ago the first time he'd lost him.

While the others mourned, Thrand surprised himself when he somehow was the first to rise, barely seeing straight through all the tears, and uttered the age-old words:

"The King... is dead! Long live the King!"

There was a tremendous silence cast over the once-city of Tháinbroek. All one could hear, other than the palpable grief of those weeping for their fallen king, was the gentlest of breezes flowing through their ranks. The first to echo the words, according to ancient tradition, was none other than Old Grey-Boar himself.

In spite of his age, Bors got down on one knee and solemnly uttered: "Long live the King!" A tribute not only to the late king, but also to the man succeeding him. Alas that he, in his advanced age, should live to see the end of yet another great king. He swore right there and then, that it would be his last.

Following in his example, the vast gathering of armourclad men and women, bloodied and beaten, all fell to their knees in unison. "Long live the King," they too cried out.

Coci Heavenshield | Eyna | Nida Perl ​

 

[Eyna]

Thurion Heavenshield // Coci Heavenshield // Nida Perl

Eyna remained quiet even after Coci pulled her back in again. The unfamiliar weight on her heart sunk deeper as they all began to gather around the fallen king to say goodbye. The girl remained unmoving, but not unmoved. No tears on her cheek yet a stoic stare at those that did have something to say. The brother, the wife, the child, and even the sister-in-law. The Heavenshield family was a big one and the ripples of this would be felt for a long time. Eyna herself still had little to add, it was a heartfelt moment but one that was unfamiliar all the same.

The king handed his crown to Thurion, and in a moment later was no more. Eyna closed her eyes and let her head sink forward in a rare sign of empathy for what the man had just endured and what the rest of those that lived on had to live through in its wake. Inside the emotions were swelling up but she kept them contained, hidden from the world until she could deal with them. Now was not the time.

The proclamation of a new king roared across the field and even still Eyna remained silent, unmoving, and calm. They bent the knee and in a show of solidarity Eyna would do the same. Yet as she began to lean forward she felt something tug at her mind, like a hand reaching out to grab at her arm.

“Ludwigs bend our knees to no man.” A hollow echo rang across her mind and in that moment, Eyna twitched. Her eyes opened wide in horror at realization to who it was, what he meant, and the fact that he so clearly seemed to be aware of what she was doing. Yet tearing against the seams of her father’s influence Eyna went down on both of her knees in a sign of sheer spite.

“I’m not a Ludwig, I’m a Heavenshield.” Eyna growled into her furred collar much to the man’s disappointment.

“Yet again, with help from her, you have come to accept weakness once more.” She didn’t need to hear the scoff to feel it. “Pity.”

With her brows furrowed and knees firmly planted on the ground Eyna’s eyes set on the ground. She swore there and then that her father’s grasp would come to an end one day. It would be a swift death at her hands and a small cost on her soul for the freedom it’d bring.

“Long live the king.” The girl muttered after the other into the furred collar of her robe once more. The all too familiar anger began to simmer beneath her skin once more, yet it shone with surprising clarity even to her. It wasn’t out of hatred or a will to destroy but a will for something greater. She would need to speak to Coci about this later, when the time for mourning had passed and the time for healing had begun.

Now was not that time.

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

​

For a time Thurion remained crippled by the loss of his older brother. Inconsolable. This entire struggle had been put into motion to accomplish three objectives: To defeat the Crone, reclaim Tháinbroek, and rescue the king. He'd never expected it be necessary to give up one for the success of the remaining two. While many would argue one life for an entire world is a small price to pay, they had best not speak those words aloud in Thurion's presence for the time being.

What eventually did bring him out of his state of absolute grief was the chanting of that age-old phrase, now ringing throughout the streets of Tháinbroek by those that had been willing to follow him into the jaws of Death itself. Though his thoughts remained in turmoil, he began to carefully wrap one arm around the fallen king's shoulders, and hook the other under his legs.

With great pains he rose from where he sat, his brother lying lifeless in his arms. As he turned towards the vast crowd kneeling before him, he looked down into Thyrian's face. For the first time ever, the man looked like he was finally at peace.

"Bors," he spoke softly, but with newfound authority. "Have the men gather the fallen. Every last man, woman, and child. Search the city for dead left from the Crone's takeover. Clear the battlefield. We shall build the greatest funeral pyre this world - any world - has ever known."

The old man bowed his head. "Aye, lad-- er, Your Grace. It will be done."

So Thurion strode down the steps, leaving the Great Hall behind him for the very last time, carrying his deceased brother by himself. The sea of battered troops parted before him, as they too were given the chance to lay eyes upon the two. Many reached out, touch one or both as they passed.

~oOo~​

Hours passed. By the time both city and field had been cleared of bodies, friend and foe alike, and the massive wooden pyre was completed, it was already dusk. The men had gathered materials from destroyed buildings and constructed it outside the city, upon which every last of their fallen had found a resting place. The corpses of the enemy had been unceremoniously tossed in a vast ditch dug some distance away from the pyre, to be set of fire alongside their own.

The Phoenix King had been given his own pyre, upon which Thyrian's body now rested.

Everyone had gathered for the mass funeral. Healers and artillery crews from the rear had rejoined the army of Men, Elves, and Bearfolk, with the wounded now being cared for inside any buildings still intact Tháinbroek had to offer.

Torches had been lit and awaited his command. But first, he would let Kära have her last moments with her husband, as she stood over his pyre drained of all emotion. She looked pale, more so than usual. From where he stood, Thurion watched as she leaned down and appeared to whisper something to her beloved before placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. Once she'd backed away to stand beside the others, it began.

"Here, before us, lay our fallen brothers and sisters! Brave men and women from every corner of Midvinter, they came here in defense of their homeland! To vanquish the foes which threaten our world! To fight for their king! And they paid for our victory with their lives, every single one of them! There is not a single soul here today which has not earned their place among the Gods, alive or dead!"

Thurion held onto Coci's hand, scared to let go.

"These brave souls; they shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old! Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn! At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them! Lest we forget their great sacrifice!"

Looking off to the west, the setting sun had turned almost blood red. A sign that the Gods themselves were in mourning, and none more so than the Bringer of Dawn himself for having lost his first child.

With a hesitant nod he signalled the lighting of the pyres. As for the king, Thurion had expected Kära to commit her husband to the afterlife herself when suddenly she stopped halfway, unable to carry out the deed. Before anyone else could act, Thrand stepped forth and carefully plucked the lit torch from her hand. Her whole body was noticably trembling.

"It's alright, Mother. I'll do it," he comforted her, before sticking the torch beneath the pyre where the flames began eating into the wood and straw. Slowly but surely it lit up, until finally enveloping the body of the Phoenix King.

Thus it was, that Thurion was forced to watch his brother become lost to yet another raging fire. No resurrections this time; Thyrian of House Hearthfire, First of His Name, had earned his eternal peace.

Coci Heavenshield | Nida Perl | Eyna ​

 

[Thrand Hearthfire]

​

"Lest we forget," Thrand repeated his uncle's words where he stood, arms wrapped around his mother watching her husband be returned to ash. It was oddly fitting, as well as ironic, that this be Thyrian's fate; to become in death what he had once been in life. "Ashes to ashes, my love," she uttered fondly.

Kära turned in her son's embrace to look up into his beautiful face. In it she saw traces of her beloved, as many as there was of her own. "Your father will never be truly gone, for you carry him with you wherever you go." She placed a kiss on his cheek and then walked away from the pyre to join the others.

Thrand remained where he stood. The fires now rages so fierce that the body was no longer visible, completely engulfed within the inferno.

He produced his trusty flute, which had somehow survived the hard fighting. Why he'd even brought it in the first place he did not know, but never before had he found a greater use for it than on this day.

He placed the mouthpiece between his lips, and with a steady breath he produced a tribute to the fallen which carried far and wide over the silence of his utterly captivated audience.

~oOo~
​

And although none present could witness it, for the late High King of Midvinter it was as if he'd awakened from a gentle dream. His eyes opened, and he sat up. That music was heard even amongst the honoured dead, becoming the soundtrack to their ascension as spirits one after the other were being taken to Beornskald, where they may live out the rest of their existence feasting alongside heroes past.

However in the case of Thyrian, it was no mere faceless servant of the Allfather that beckoned him. Before him stood none other than his father, draped in divine sunlight. But then the old man stepped aside, revealing another presence.

His mother, taken from him when he was but a boy.

The two reached out to towards their firstborn child, welcoming him. Thyrian cast one look back towards where his family and loved ones stood mourning his departure, offered each of them a smile, then went to join his parents in the afterlife.

Coci Heavenshield | Nida Perl | Eyna ​