Alcina has always known that her most significant value is her disposability.
Alcina was born into the great House Clair. It is a famed and noble House known for its gifted bloodline. Is peerless in its long tradition robust and hallowed abilities.
But delinquent to that fame, Alcina was born with neither a gift nor any other outstanding virtue.
She had known, early on, that her primary function in this life was to be the spare.
Alfred, her older brother, who, even among their revered bloodline, stood out with his tremendous gift as the most powerful telepath to exist in historical records. He would be the heir, and Alcina, his much lacking spare.
These are the facts, as they have been decided long, long ago.
Alcina knows this.
Alcina knows she is a useless and powerless runt who could bring no prestige to the name of the House that values reputation over all other things.
She's known that the most fabulous lot she could hope for in this life would be to hopefully be married off in some negotiation or another.
If she's lucky, it will be an important one; in that way, the marriage may bring some favor to her House.
If she's unlucky, it will be to a wealthy but otherwise invaluable family. Which will not benefit her House other than the fact that she would no longer be their burden.
Her most significant value is being a bartering chip, which is not even a precious one.
So, in some ways, her current circumstances are a fortune beyond what she could have hoped for in life.
An alliance that her House of Clair desperately desires. It is an honor above any station in life she could have ordinarily achieved.
That being wed or to cast off, as her mind keeps whispering traitorously, to Lord Brendan, who is apparently the heir of the most powerful House Warner.
Alcina's parents, indeed, have never considered her with such appraising eyes as in the last three months of the negotiations.
But nevertheless, there is a part of her, a not insubstantial part that cannot help but reel in disbelief and horror, that her parents could have truly bartered her off to Lord Brendan, the Shadowed Beast.
Lord Brendan was "gifted" with the most horrifying, frightening - monstrous – power to ever obtain by anyone.
He who rules over the darkness, over the shadows, wraiths, and those nightmares of which human fears are made.
Lord Brendan, who had been cast out by his own House and kingdom as an abomination, who they say is the most terrifying existence in all the land.
Existence, they say 'not man' because no one has ever referred to him as a man.
Instead, he is someone who undoubtedly was birthed from the hideous and vile things of the world, for how else could he wield the dreadful as his birthright?
They say that Lord Brendan is the most reviled and feared presence to have ever been born and that even to meet his gaze is the equivalent of succumbing to a fate worse than death.
Since his birth, Lord Brendan of House Warner has become synonymous with those frightful specters children fear in the night.
And now, Alcina is to marry this man.
She has not been able to sleep, not a single restful night. Ever since she first learned of the news. She is considered as a bargaining chip from her family to obtain power and is cast-off to marry the world's most feared man as a husband.
She does not know, even now, which is worse: that her fate is to be wed to the man that is referred to as the black nightmare by his own people, or that her parents found Alcina so unlovable that they could so quickly cast her off into the monster's lair.
Alcina had known all her life that her parents found her a disgrace upon their House. That she, reprehensibly ordinary and ungifted as she is, was only ever destined to be cast off.
But the heart is a fragile and stupid thing, for a lifetime of knowing her parents found her worthless, had still not prepared her to face the stunning reality that they honestly did not care for her, even in the slightest.
That they could care so little for her, to willingly toss her to the Shadowed Beast. In their eyes, power is more valuable than their own daughter.
At the least, she still has her two brothers - Alfred, her older brother by blood, and Nordin, her brother's intended.
Nordin hails from the wealthiest noble House in nearly all of The Ethereal Isles, whose family coffers alone could fund a third of the war. Nordin had been Alfred's closest confidante all throughout their youth, and now, the two are betrothed, to be wed this coming spring.
Being a gay couple, they faced a lot of criticism. They overcame everything and convinced the family that they both were meant to be. But what worked in their favor is that Nordin is a powerful man who can bring prestige and power to the House of Clair.
So with a lot of argument and silent treatment, they finally accepted their love for each other. Now Alfred and Nordin are the most envied couple in the Heartlands.
Alcina had never allowed herself the idiocy to ever dream of being permitted a love like theirs.
One of her few virtues is her ability to understand reality for precisely the damnable bitch that it is.
And her reality is not the one that would ever afford her the circumstances of such a fairy tale.
Alcina had been raised as Alfred's empty spare, but for every bit that her parents did not care for her, Alfred and Nordin cared twice as much.
That is to say, Alcina may not have known the love of her birth parents, but she had grown up with all the parental love and affection she could ask for, given to her by the two men she regards as both her older brothers.
In direct contrast to her parents, Alfred and Nordin have been nearly violently opposed to the engagement.
For the first time in their lives, Alfred vehemently opposed their parents when they announced their decision to wed Alcina to a nightmarish brute.
Even after the engagement ultimately proceeded above his protests, he has since been working tirelessly for eight weeks to find a way to break the engagement.
Nordin, likewise, has been staying beside herself with outrage and grief, in turns.
Alcina could almost find Nordin's rapidly cycling mood swings funny, but she was also in a similar state of panic and terror.
Alfred will not inherit the Throne for several years more.
However, the unfortunate but blisteringly truthful reality is that he and Nordin, for all of their future political power, are currently no more than mere pieces on the chessboard for the Duke and Duchess of House Clair's control.
House Clair has ruled the Heartlands - one of the five territories that comprise the land of The Ethereal Isles - for over three hundred years.
They have been one of the most politically prominent and influential houses and closely aligned with House Walton for nearly all of that time.
This family had, for centuries, ruled over all of The Ethereal Isles as the holders of the Red Throne.
House Walton, however, has long had a genetic predisposition for mental instability, precipitated by their fervent efforts to keep their "blood pure" that worsened as time went on.
The last ruler - the "mad king" - suffered from a bout of insanity in his final years, eventually compelling him to set fire to his home, trapping his own family within.
The Mad Massacre, having occurred only two years ago, eliminated the entirety of the Walton bloodline; the Red Throne is, to this day, still empty, and the power vacuum continues to grow larger and larger.
In the south, House Johnson and House Albrecht have already allied themselves and made evident their intent to place one of their own on the Red Throne.
House Arison, whose mountain territory is practically impenetrable, and House Warner, who holds the most tremendous military force of all the houses, are long-standing allied houses.
The Heartlands is a prosperous territory, but it is the one that has seen the stirrings of internal turbulence in the last few years, as lower classes grow discontent with social inequalities.
House Clair, then, must come out on the winning side of the war, or else the risk is they will collapse altogether.
The war for the Red Throne will spare no bystanders, and House Clair must secure the alliance with the Arison and Warner Houses if they are to remain in firm control of their own territory.
Shaky political alliances will not do; the Arison and Warner Houses have already been close allies for generations.
And Lord Brendan and his father, the ruling Alpha of the pack from House Warner, old and weakening, is poised to assume control of his kingdom any day now, and therefore the individual with whom the alliance must be forged.
This marriage is the only binding strong enough to secure House Clair's stability in the alliance.
Alcina may have only ever been raised as the spare to be discarded, but she is no fool. She knows that there is no way out of this.
Alcina is sent to the Western Plains, the territory of House Warner, by herself. With a royal retinue, of course, and no less than ten carriages in which her attendants, belongings, and dowry are to be carried. Dowry - given that no one in this arrangement, neither the Clair's nor the Warner's, is unaware of the fact that House Clair needs the alliance more than House Warner. Her parents will not be traveling with her, of course. She came alone to this unfamiliar place filled with foreign people. Her heart shakes with fear but she has no other option. Neither Alfred nor Nordin could come, given that they are too tied up in matters at home, which they will be forced to oversee for another two weeks. Once settled, they plan to travel to the Western Plains immediately to join Alcina, but until then, Alcina is to navigate the beast’s lair alone. When Alcina boards the carriage, hands trembling, how silly, she’s a day’s ride away from
Brendon's point of View, The girl standing in front of him is not what Brendan had expected at all. He had known, from the day negotiations commenced, that his intended must be of the absolute dregs of humanity, for her own family to have been able to throw her to the monstrous creature that everyone says Brendan is. To have willingly, and so easily, offered up their own to the vile, wretched thing that Brendan is. Of course, that they’d traded anyone,castaway or not, to be wedded to the shadowed beast, speaks equal magnitudes about the people doing the giving, as it does the poor and unwanted soul who’s been given away. For a long time, Brendan had speculated about what kind of an undesirable and distasteful person it must be, for them to have been willing to sacrifice her to the beast that they think he is. And then, he’d heard that his intended was born without a gift of her own, that she is just like a
Alcina follows Brendan into the maze.Brendan cannot tell if it is foolishness or naivete that compels her to do so, given that anyone with half a brain would have notfollowed a man they compare to nightmares incarnate, into a labyrinth of which they know nothing about.It’s half the reason Breandan had headed in this direction, to begin with, having grown weary already of having to make pleasantries that he has no desire to make.He had hoped the girl would have enough of a sense of self-preservation, to run away when Brendan gave her the chance.Instead, the little lamb stumbles in after the lion into his den.Though his back is turned, Brendan can hear with perfect clarity, the soft footfalls that come to a petering, hesitant stop a few paces away from him. Too frightened to come any closer, then, he surmises.He spins on his heel.Alcina stumbles back a few steps, alarmed by the sudden movement.
The walk ends shortly after, spent primarily in the same stilted, awkward silence as the trip there.Brendan leads them to the east wing, where the royal families’ bedrooms are located, and now, Alcina’s.Alcina’s room is a spacious, lavishly-furnished room, of velvet drapes and wide windows, with a small but ornate chandelier glittering from the center of the ceiling, in essence, the same as the bedroom she’d just left behind.She can’t help the mild surprise, at how normalit all seems, how similar, to her own home.She knows it’s a ridiculous thought, but--She doesn’t know why or rather, she does, but she’s ashamed to admit it, but the truth is she’d been imagining something less... something less like home.Something that resembled the dark lair in which she’d be kept, imprisoned until the shadowed beast found a use for her.As Alcina stands
Alcina cannot help but lock the door that night. * * * * * * * * * * The next morning, Alcina is greeted first thing by Mary, a bright-eyed fourteen-year-old girl, who is to be her primary attendant from House Warner. She is young but endearingly eager in her youth and clearly skilled in her tasks. Alcina, for one, finds a small measure of relief in the fact that her personal attendant is such a courteous lass; she much prefers Mary’s ruddy-cheeked vivacity, to an older and somber one. “I am most honored to be serving you, my Lady,” Mary says. Alcina manages, despite the circumstances, to muster up a smile for her. She sits at the vanity while Mary gently brushes her hair, deft and nimble hands working quickly to arrange her locks into a presentable appearance. Alcina allows herself to be lulled into a moment of rest, as Mary’s babble - about the weather, and other such foolish things - provides a pleasant backgroun
Brendan is already waiting outside by the doors when Alcina and Mary reach the castle. As usual, he cuts an intimidating figure simply by standing, an utter stillness that’s almost unnatural and seemingly displaces him from the rest of his surroundings. His dark eyes lock with Alcina's from a distance, and Alcina has to, clench her jaw to fight the urge to look away. Aren’t young children taught not to look evil or bad things in the eye, for it will doubtlessly consume them whole? “Good afternoon, my Lord,” Alcina greets politely, dipping into a graceful and proper little bow. Brendan seems amused as he returns in kind, though far more muted than Alcina's own greeting. “I am to escort you to be introduced to the Captain Commander,” Brendan says instead of any further pleasantries. At Alcina's blank stare, Brendan adds, “He is the commander of the kingdom’s armed military forces, as well as the royal guards’ chief - and ther
Alcina's lips part in surprise. “The nomadic tribes, as it turns out, were more like a scattered - but numerous - group of companion settlements of horse-mounted warriors who were unnaturally skilled at the battle. In fact, many of our military’s leaders were killed in that conflict.” Brendan gazes off to the side, in Lincoln's direction. “Commander Lincoln, a low-ranking officer at the time, came into a leadership position of his own regiment.” “He won every single battle.” Alcina's gaze, wide-eyed and disbelieving, joins Brendan's on Lincoln's figure where he stands at the head of the training. “At eighteen, he managed to single-handedly turn the tides of a losing battle. Every brawl, every charge he led his regiment into, he emerged victoriously.” Brendan's lips twist into an amused little curve, as they come to a slow stop just a few feet behind Lincoln. “Lincoln is not known to possess a Gift, no.” Brendan's eyes fli
In the south, in a castle fortress that towers atop a rocky terrace, three men commence the planning of the war.“So House Clair has chosen to align itself with House Warner, then, with those animals” Duke Cedric drawls, a silken murmur. At the table’s head, he sits elegantly upon his chair, draped comfortably along one arm with his legs crossed.“It is more than I expected from them,” Lord Casper, Duke Cedric's younger brother, hums. “For a while, I rather surmised they’d attempt to refrain altogether and would have to be put down like the dogs they are once we’ve settled the dust.”Cedric's lips curve into a small, amused smile.For two men who’ve just learned that the last player on the board has chosen to join the other side, they are remarkably, unnaturally calm. To an observer, it may even appear that the members of House Albrecht seem almost pleasedat the outcome, as puzzling as it m
That afternoon, Alcina takes off for the Heartlands with Perseus to inform her family of House Warners’s decision, while Brandon remains behind to see Percy and Darla off.When Brandon makes his intentions known to the soon-departing lords of the Ranges, there’s hardly a pause before Percy shrugs.“Very well, then.”Brandon raises a brow. “Is that all?”Darla grins, razor-sharp and vicious. “I’ve wanted to gut those pathetic vermin for a while now,” she says as she stretches her neck, languid and incredibly dangerous.Conversational. “Ever since they reared their stupid heads and tried to act like lions instead of the prey that they are.”Ever since they managed to escape unscathed from the massacre of the wedding at the Heartlands, Darla’s been unsettled. Like a shark that smelt blood in the water, only to have lost its prey.Darla has the kind of bloodlust that won’t settle until she’s standing above the carcasses of her chosen prey.Percy merely smiles, as warm as an indulgent love
They say that Captain Lincoln of the Western Plains’ military is a man unmatched, for he carries with him the favor of the goddess of victory, herself.Stella thinks they might be mistaken.For watching him now - watching the way he leaps into battle with nothing but a sword and his gleaming armor, having stepped down from his steed because he does not wish to risk harm to his horse makes Stella think-He is the god.Stella wishes to never fight another day in her life and has loathed fighting and everything it means and entails, but even she cannot deny that Captain Lincoln in battle is nothing short of mesmerizing.What a frightening man, to make something that Stella loathes like no other, into something- strangely beautiful.Even as the other men under Lincoln’s command have charged in to engage the others in combat, Lincoln remains at the front lines of the conflict, a dancing hurricane flitting across the ground to leave devastation in its wake.He takes on two, three, five, eve
A figure has come to stand beside her, tall and broad and armor gleaming under the moonlight, white teeth sparkling in a roguish grin-“Commander?”It cannot be.But it is.Commander Lincoln stands before her with all the casual grace of a man out for a stroll, confidence is as alien as it is captivating on the shoulders of a person who stands on a battlefield and yet still somehow manages to look as though he is at home.Stella gapes at him.Lincoln smiles.“What- wh- what are, what are you-““The cavalry has arrived,” Lincoln announces grandly, cheerfully. Always so bloody incomprehensibly cheerful, how-“What?”Lincoln’s smile turns just an edge softer, for just a moment. He tilts his head backwards, and Stella swivels her head, only to choke at the sight of- of soldiers, several hundred of them, bearing the glorious banner of the Western Plains-Stella’s wide eyes must betray her stupor, for Lincoln drops gracefully to a single knee beside her.Stella’s stupor turns into a stilted
“And where were you, when this intruder managed to slip past our defenses?” Brandon drawls.“Sinking the edge of my blade into his stomach, my lord,” Lincoln replies.They share a grim smile.“I only regret that I could not do so sooner, before he had killed the serving girl,” Lincoln sighs. At that, Brandon’s expression darkens.Alcina had been near catatonic with grief.Ridiculous, in some ways, that a princess should have grown so attached to her servant that she’d mourn Mary’s death like so. But that ridiculous heart is Brandon’s.They’ve hurt what belongs to the Shadowed Beast, and penance will be forcibly wrenched by payment in blood.“They’d likely been searching for Alcina,” Lincoln says. “Or at least, any viable intelligence on her command of the dragons.”“Yes.” Brandon has been made all too well aware of Duke Albrecht’s interest in the dragons. An interest that had spanned years before Alcina’s ever came into the world, if that dilapidated fortress were any indicator.For h
Brandon emerges from their shared bedroom with keen intent in every step, cloak swirling behind him. Alcina remains in their room, curled along the window seat, Orion’s quiet rumbles bringing her whatever semblance of peace is possible.He pins a standing guard with a raised brow. “And where, pray tell,” he says. “Is Commander Lincoln?”The answer makes Brandon’s brow curve higher and higher on his forehead.* * * * * * * * * *Long before he becomes Commander Lincoln, the man they whisper to be graced by the goddess of victory, the man who leads the greatest military force in all the land to nothing but absolute triumph and glory, Lincoln was just a Lin, a penniless street urchin who’d grow up in an orphanage that had too many mouths to feed and too few beds.It’s been a long time since Lincoln was that skinny, trembling boy in rags with dirt smeared across his cheeks and an aching in his belly; a long time since he’s tasted anything but the sweet, euphoric taste of victory and iron
With a bloodthirsty vengeance perched on her shoulder in glittering hues of ruby red, Lady Alcina arrives back at the Western Plains to find the castle sunk deep in discord.Although nothing looks to be amiss, it is undeniable in the very tension that permeates the air, that something is wrong.As the two of them enter through the main doors, Alcina can see the flicker of trepidation in the gazes of every guard and attendant who welcomes them back home.Something has happened.“Brandon,” Alcina murmurs, and feels the weight of her husband’s hand pressed against her back in response.“I know,” Brandon says. He too has sensed the unease.Even Lincoln - who ordinarily would be the first to greet Brandon upon his return from any excursion - is glaringly absent.The party has long ended and the lavishly dressed throngs of attendees have long since waltzed out of the castle doors to their own homes. It isn’t odd, then, for the castle to be so quiet, given the circumstances.What is odd, how
The iron shackles laying at their feet, massive and heavy and bolted to the floor with chains so great that even in their rusted state, have not deteriorated in strength, were clearly once used to contain a beast of unimaginable size and power.A beast terrible - and fearsome - enough, to have warranted such an egregious means of constraint.Alcina’s hands - those gentle, kind things, soft to the touch for how few hardships they’d ever seen, so tender that they’d blistered and bled when she first began to take up swordplay, unused as they were to adversity - curl into fists, still resting against the ivory.Brandon watches as they curl so tightly that he fears Alcina’s nails may draw blood on her own palms, shaking - not with fear, but anger.That is when something new catches Brandon’s eye.Something that catches one of the scant few rays of light, flitting in from the broken doorway.Something that looks like a massive jewel, curved vaguely in the shape of an egg.Something nestled
Mary catches them just as Perseus dips his head low for Alcina to climb aboard.From beside him, Orion paws at the ground with an irritated snort, displeased at being left behind. But with Perseus’s darker scales, Alcina had thought it would grant them a far better chance at going unnoticed at all, in the inky blackness of the night.“My Lady!”Alcina turns, just in time to see Mary run up to her, her breaths visible in foggy clouds in the night chill. In her arms is a dark bundle, revealed to be one of Alcina’s warm cloaks, lined with fur. Mary heaves for air as Alcina turns to fully face her, having evidently run the entire way from the palace.“My Lady,” Mary says breathlessly, expression lined with worry as she holds up the cloak. “You cannot simply take off into the night without even a cloak,” she says, edging close to a reprimand.Even as that pull pounds with a vengeance in Alcina’s chest still, ever stronger now that she’s recognized the call for what it is, Alcina can’t help
Alcina catches Nordin's eye from across the room, and though her brothers are unable to extricate themselves from the political small talk they are caught in, they send her a warm smile nonetheless.She beams back, and something in Nordin's smile softens, ever so slightly, at the sight of the sheer happiness the Lord of House Warner has managed to put on their sister's lips.When Brandon had suddenly declared a ball at the week's end, he and Alfred had shared a momentarily skeptical look. But then, Alfred's eyes had dawned with recognition, and he'd stifled a quiet laugh into his hand. Had, as Nordin demanded what was so funny, explained-It would seem that the great beast is entirely bewitched by our willful little sister.And Nordin had felt his own lips twitch into a helpless smile in turn, at the frankly ridiculous lengths it would seem the Lord was willing to go to if it would bring a smile on their little sister's lips in such dire times.Brandon leans down to ask if Alcina woul