Destined Path

Chapter Six: Yggdrasil

Onyxia PoV

I ate my small portion of bread and warmed milk in silence. Quite content listening to everyone else. My hair was loose from the absence of my maids this morning; they were busy helping my family pack to go back home. Tomorrow was the wedding, and the day after I will not have anyone to help or protect me from these people. My nose still dripped from my 'lesson', all I did was ask my father if he thought the wedding ceremony would be the same as ours. I didn't think that deserved a ringed backhand. Too bad for him, I let it bleed. I let them look, I let them notice. His eyes twitched in his threatening gaze as the red ooze dripped onto my plate.

I fought a jerk as a hand reached out to strum a thumb under my nose. I kept my face tilted down to my plate but raised my eyes to look up at the man seated next to me. He had been more reserved than usual, and had come down late for breakfast. He looked...nice in his embodied blue tunic, dark breeches and decorative jerkin. His short hair was ruffled and bedridden, growing a bit longer each day. He brought his bloodied thumb to his lips absently, sucking off the blood as if it were water. Somewhere in my mind I thought that he didn't even realize what he had done.

It was an awkward weathered day, the sun was out being warmth but the air was cold. I had put on my white gown that covered me from wrists to booted feet. My cream apron dress' beaded-roped closures clattered softly as I moved to tug my woollen shawl around me. I had bound my breasts this morning, unable to lace my corset by myself. My eyes were darker heavily with kohl, slightly smudged from rubbing.

I looked up to drink to find both fathers staring at A.J with odd expressions of surprise. King Haraldur couldn't come down in anything other than his nightshirt and thick robe. His crown was too heavy for his weakened head for him to wear. Large bags lay under his weary eyes, his jaw was furred with a beard and his skin was pale and leathery. He looked worse, but his eyes lingered with aware intelligence. In contrast, my father appeared in all of his regal gory. His pale hair plaited back under his golden ring of a crown. His clothes were washed and pristine, lined with fur. He wore a luxurious bearskin cloak about his shoulders. He was well, unfortunately. Pity.

My mother was chatting to my sister and the prince's; all three were rugged up in warm cloaks and thicken fabric dresses. My mother's coiled hair sprang freely. They seem to far engaged in their conversation to notice anything else. Frederic and Jaymen seemed to be just as introverted. Queen Willow sat across the table, dressed all in black. Her hair was pushed from her head like a shining mane. She stared at her son with an eyebrow raised and lips parted. It was the two cousins that were the most focused, it was making me uncomfortable of how long their eyes dwelled. What a bunch of nídingr dungas.

The younger one was still doughy with unfinished youth; his squinty eyes were crinkled at their edges. His skin was puckered with exposed pours, obviously someone who didn't bath weekly. He was in some way good looking, but not in any way did he look like a warrior. Unlike his cousin, who looked like a god and fought like a berserker. His brother, whose thin, wide mouth quirked in a smile, was much more ragged. His bones made a strong structure for his face, a face that every woman in the room had noticed. His eyes were a smoky colour, and striking. He had a built figure; he was someone who battled often, wide broadness of hardened muscled bands.

A large hand slammed forcibly onto the wooden table, causing me to flinch. I had made myself a pleasant, although seemingly unwelcome by the citizens of this place, presence within my time here. I already knew that he had a temper, a short one if that. On instinct, I sat perfectly still as if one move could redirect his anger towards me. Every face around the table was now on him. I lowered my face and tilted my gaze to his tight expression, his jaw held a clenching tic. He was very on edge today; I took this as a bad sign. If he were aggressive today, what would he be like tomorrow? Especially, tomorrow night. My stomach turned in nerves, and a tiny shiver ran through me.