Sparks of the All-Forge - Preludes

Prelude 3- Haryn Mara- To Lie

"My Prince?" A soft voice roused him from his thoughts. Looking up, he noticed that the Lady Juniper Faelor stood before him. Elderly and plump, the High Lady of Ranidor seemed as silently angry with the world as she had when news of her daughter reached her. Haryn could not see her husband near. To look at him was even worse. Where Juniper had turned her daughter's death into anger and passion, Boras Ridelos-Faelor had been broken. Tears were never far from his cheeks and his words were hardly more than murmurs. Conversations with him were impossible to hold and he more oft than not would excuse himself once pleasantries were exchanged. Haryn could understand, though. House Ridelos were bannermen to House Alden. The man had likely made the journey to see Alastor born, blessed him as a baby and even kissed his forehead. There weren't enough thrones in the world worth going through what Boras was.

Juniper, on the other hand, at least had a semblance of composure. Sure, her brown eyes had a tinge of anger to them. Her stark white hair, normally in an unnaturally neat bun, was a bit disheveled, but she was still there. The way she was meeting his eyes, the High Lady must have been talking and was likely expecting some sort of answer.

Honesty would always go the longest way with subjects, or so Alyn Mara had always said. Well, men had fought and died to make the man the High King. Some of his advice had to be good. "In all honesty, my High Lady, I was deep in thought and didn't hear a word you said. I am sorry."

"Oh, tis not a worry in the slightest, my Prince. Might I ask what you were thinking on?"

"I was just thinking on the war."

"The war is over, my Prince."

"It was my first. I pray it is my only. I-" He cut himself off. There was no need to go in that direction. Not tonight, not during the eve which signaled the revival of the Maran dynasty.

"It's okay, Haryn. I can hear it." Some might have minded being referred to so informally in this setting, but he did not. Haleigh had been his friend and her mother knew that.

"I am just, I am so sorry. I wish she was still here. I hate that our rise to power resulted in her death-"

"Child," Juniper replied curtly. She reached for his left hand and cupped it in both of hers. Tough, much like the woman herself. "Never was Haleigh's death your fault. Nor was it your father's. It wasn't your rise to power. It wasn't your rebellion. Alastor Alden killed my Haleigh and he lies within the dirt, his ashes spread along the wind and away from the graves of his homeland." She grew quiet so others would not hear, but her intensity rose as her words descended into a whisper. "I know my daughter. She took on her duty for you. I've no doubt she was thinking of her duty when she stuck her dagger into the Great Phoenix. I pray you won't take offense to this, my Prince, but I'll not have you treat my daughter as a victim. She died a hero. She died fighting for her prince, and I would rather hear you talk about her as such."

A hero. Aye, that she is. "They will sing songs of her bravery, my Lady. From Nya Norr to Ranidor, I swear they will."

The High Lady of Ranidor strengthened her grip on his hands for a short moment and gave him a smile. She looked up to Haryn's father and gave a deep curtsy. "Blessings upon you, my prince. May your father's reign last two dozen summers."

"The Mother bless you, my Lady. Thank you for helping my son see the way of things." Haryn flinched. Alyn Mara had a way of sneaking up on you that was uncanny for a man so large. Haryn's father looked every bit a king. His blonde hair ran long and was worn down to his shoulders. His beard was thick, his eyes gray, and a few scars ran along his cheeks and forehead. Trophies from the war, he called them, as well as a reminder of what it took to take back their throne. Haryn was often told that he looked like his father, though he had no real beard to speak of. Only small patches could grow upon his cheeks and a bit on his chin. He'd like to have one some day, though.