Chapter 4: Departure

Rumor had it the streets of Lupercal still shone red from the long-washed blood of those massacred during the siege of the Usurper. Aster had heard it said that the people of the Devali crown city were nearly wiped out, and the fires set by the attacking army burned for a whole week. Not only that, but upon rebuilding the royal castle after the battles were done and Darreth Vireylon sat on the Primal Throne, he ordered the castle be rebuilt using the bones of those loyal to the former dynasty.

Aster knew these rumors were likely just that: rumors. Dark fantasy and myth passed around by those who were brokenhearted that their loved ones had never returned from battle.

Still, as he bid his loved ones goodbye—as he kissed his stoic mother and weeping sister, as he hugged his best friend for what might be the last time… it was hard not to feel like he was heading to a palace of blood and bone. His hands were not bound, he was not in chains, nor was he wearing a leash and collar, but he still felt as though he was being carted away as a slave.

Better me than her, he reminded himself.

He remained silent the entire ride, staring out the carriage window. The King attempted to engage him in conversation, but the only responses the forlorn young man offered back were either a nod or a shake of his head.

“I know leaving your home and family must be difficult,” Darreth said after nearly an hour of silence. “But I hope you will come to see the royal palace as your new home soon enough, and myself as your new family.”

Aster only gazed blankly at the distant mountains.

The uncomfortable silence stretched throughout the entire day-and-a-half-long journey. Every time they stopped to let the horses rest, Aster stayed inside the carriage while the King went out to speak with his men and stretch his legs. Even when they stopped for the night, when Darreth offered him his own private tent to sleep in, Aster refused. He slept across the seats inside the coach.

He knew that if he were to set foot outside before they reached their destination, he would be tempted to run. Run across the shire, run through the woods, run until he couldn’t run anymore. Maybe he would reach the shores of the Escosian Sea, maybe he wouldn’t make it half a mile before Darreth’s men chased him down. He didn’t want to risk the temptation.

The sound of trumpets announced their arrival at the walls of the capital city. Aster poked his head out of his window just enough to see the red brick walls curving off to both sides, and enormous wooden doors creaking open to let their procession in.

“Welcome home,” Darreth proclaimed with a wide grin.

Admittedly, Aster had never been to Lupercal. The northernmost he’d ever been was Dragonmouth Bay, twenty miles south and west of here. Seeing the High Mountains stretching up to kiss the sky behind the city was a sight he never thought he’d behold. The cobblestones clicked and clacked as the horses trotted them through the city’s main street, passing buildings of red brick and white adobe. The street curved gently as they passed nearly half the city by—but Aster noticed a stark lack of citizens out to greet them on the lower streets. He thought he saw someone scamper into an alley, and several window shutters slam closed.

“Where is everyone…?” He asked.

“There is a…” The King trailed off, as if trying to figure out how to put it, “Slight population problem, you could say.”

“Population problem?”

“Yes, so many were killed in the siege that it’s been hard to repopulate some parts of the city.”

Aster didn’t want to argue, but hadn’t it been ten years since the siege? Ten years, and the population hadn’t quite bounced back from a near genocide? Suddenly the slamming windows and urchins hiding in alleys were starting to make sense.

“Don’t let that worry you, my dear,” Darreth chuckled. “That’s why you’re here. So I can return this country to its former glory.”

As if you aren’t the reason it’s like this, Aster thought bitterly. He wondered, idly, how long that amused smile would last. Was it a front? Was it a mask? What would it take for him to show his true self? Or was there someone else he should be afraid of here?

The streets nearer to the palace were more populated than the lower levels of the city—it was still a sparse population, but more people waved to their procession. Some of the faces he passed looked forlornly at him, as if they were watching him go off to his death. That didn’t bode well.

There was practically an army of people waiting for them behind the royal castle gates: knights in full black armor, servants and banner men, maids and stewards and squires. They all lined up very neatly in front of twin reflecting pools, the bleak sunlight making the water behind them glimmer. A small group of people gathered at the top of the castle steps, nearest to the door. The pale stone and purple-shingled roof of the castle keep stretched to the sky, the outer towers and ramparts skirting around the sides and back of the massive gothic structure.

The procession pulled up right to the steps, and Aster found himself sitting on the wrong side of the carriage to get a good view of those gathered to welcome them. He leaned around the King just slightly to look out the opposite window, trying to see.

“Look at that,” Darreth proclaimed. “My lead advisor has come out to welcome us—and someone special!”

Aster saw no point in asking for clarification; he assumed his answer would come quickly. He remained quiet as the footman opened the carriage door, and the King stood and ducked out. Aster gathered his cloak about him and prepared to exit himself, but he noticed the King had stopped to offer a hand to help. Aster didn’t exactly appreciate being treated like a delicate creature, but he wasn’t about to complain before he’d even set foot on the castle grounds.

As he allowed the King to lead him up the steps, he took in the sight of the two people waiting for them. If he were to guess just by physical size, the first was a Beta woman. She wore a green and gold dress, as well as a golden circlet threaded through little braids in her long, straight brown hair. She seemed confused when she saw Aster, which was no surprise to him.

The Alpha standing next to her—he assumed it was an Alpha, he’d never known a Beta to be that tall or muscular—was less easy to read. It was a knight, a menacing figure that hid any humanizing features behind stylish black armor and a red cape. Even the face was hidden behind the visor on the Knight’s helmet. The figure looked more like a dark statue than a human being.

The Beta approached them first and curtsied before the King, before raising olive colored eyes to look at the newly engaged couple.

“Welcome home, Your Grace,” she greeted. Her eyes seemed to drag over Aster in barely-disguised judgment. “Who… is this?”

Rather than answer her directly, Darreth turned to speak to Aster. “Aster, this is my Grand Kingsaide, Jasline Morrigen. She is my right hand and the leader of my Advisory Council. Jasline, this is Aster Silvercrest.”

Though she still looked confused, Jasline offered Aster a respectful bow. “My Lord… were you not seeking the hand of a girl named Annalyse?”

“The situation has evolved. Call the rest of the Advisory Council together, and I will inform all of you of the details as soon as I arrive in the council room.”

Aster’s eyes flitted back to the Kingsaide, and he watched her bow once more and hurry off into the castle. He elected to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help but feel like the King had brushed the poor girl off.

“Now this is the special someone I wanted you to meet!” Darreth proclaimed, gesturing to the black knight. “Aster Silvercrest, allow me to introduce you to Ser Rowan The Black—Ser Rowan, take the helmet off! We’re not trying to scare him.”

Aster watched the knight reach up to lift his helmet off and shake out thick feathers of pale blonde hair. It stuck up at all angles when he raised his head again. The air left Aster’s lungs as he suddenly met a pair of deep brown eyes. A faded, jagged scar carved a path from his right eyebrow, over his right eye, across his cheek and down to his strong jaw. Another smaller, thinner scar graced his upper lip, and a pair of claw-shaped beads dangled from his ears.

Something about him seemed hauntingly familiar. He wasn’t smiling by any means—in fact, his mouth might have been permanently etched into a scowl—but his eyes… they looked so warm, so safe. He almost missed them as Ser Rowan bowed low in front of him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the King. “Ser Rowan is one of the greatest warriors in the realm. He came to work under me after the war, and now he’s my Enforcer.”

Aster finally tore his eyes away from Ser Rowan to look at Darreth. “Enforcer?”

“Yes, he helps me and my Kingsguard keep the peace in Lupercal.”

Something about that made Aster think that it was far more sinister than just “keeping the peace”, but he was distracted once again by the knight in front of him. As Ser Rowan stood back to his full height, Aster found himself staring at warm brown eyes again. The deep scowl on his face softened just slightly.

“But I’ve asked him to take a partial leave of absence,” The King continued. “He is to be sworn as your personal protector.” When Aster looked up at him in surprise, he nodded proudly. “Ser Rowan the Black, will you swear to protect Aster, your official future Sovereign Consort?”

Aster held his hands up. “We’ve been traveling for nearly two days, My Lord, is this really necessary…?”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Darreth chuckled. “There will be an official swearing tomorrow. I just wish to know you’re in willing hands before I allow him to escort you to your chambers. I’ve got to meet with my Council, but I will see you at dinner.”

Aster turned back to Rowan, who still hadn’t spoken a word. He genuflected before Aster, pressing his arm over his breastplate. He had a genuine look in his eyes as he gazed up at him.

“I swear to protect you with my life, Lord Silvercrest.”

Aster felt a foreign, pleasant shudder rush up his spine. He would certainly be thinking about that feeling for several hours at the very least. It wasn’t anything he should be feeling—this man was not his betrothed. But somehow, in that little touch of shame that heated his cheeks, there was a kind of thrill.

Maybe he wouldn’t hate it here after all.