Bound to the Stars

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Soft petals fall and drift – like a child's tale, a fairy tale, a legend of long ago. You stand on the edge of the world and sing of what surges within your breast, dare to share the dream.

This is the new world laid before you – go forth and partake of those grand adventures that await for you. Yet, at journey's end, return to me.


We are waiting...

[...for this is the time to stretch your wings...]

[...and seek...]

The new Prince's eyes couldn't seem to focus as he blindly guided his horse alongside Frigga's down the wide street. Above, the sun's glare blinded him - until there was nothing but white. And memory... It rose before him then, the afternoon of the day before when High-Mage Agaeti, Mage Hrotha and Mage Flarathir alongside the rest of Odin's Council had gathered with Frigga and Thor.

Never before had the sound of pen scritch-scritching across vellum sounded more alien. The small room - the All-Father's study - seemed to be airless to the young warrior-mage. So small and so stifling, he thought, despite its size. The wood-panelled room was hushed with reverent silence as the All-Father sat and signed his signature, applied his seal (with a noiseless melting of wax which filled the room with a hint of honey) and offered his seat to his wife. With a long look at Kol'la, Frigga signed her name and several other witnesses followed after.

With Thor at his side, standing to the left of Odin's wide oak desk (carefully cleared of everything but two candlesticks, a pot of quills and two pots of ink) and back to the beginning of a room-wide set of bookshelves, Kol'la felt more like a spectator than an actual participator in this, this ceremony which would, he knew, change his life forever. For a moment, he stood there, attempting to disappate the tension which built up within his shoulders, suppressing the urge to break the silence with an irreverent joke. Now was not the time for pranks or tricks - now was his time to grab a hold of Chance and make it work to his advantage.

There was nothing for him to sign - he was lower class, not quite a prisoner of war nor a thrall, but a servant nonetheless and with little agency - until it was given to him. Soon, he thought, so soon.

So he stood as High-Mage Agaeti and Lord General Tyr spoke several words of binding, bringing the adoption to its conclusion. Later on, Kol'la knew his official name would be given - whatever Odin had chosen for him - and the people would participate in another brief set of rites. For now, his eyes were drawn to the flickering flames as he found himself unable to meet Thor's eyes. Unwilling to see there - what, he mused, what do I think will be there? Anger? Jealousy? The usual lack-witted happiness? Unable to meet Frigga or Odin's eyes - or the eyes of the rest who were watching. The burden of their gazes threatened to weigh him down, but Kol'la stood firm, hands crossed and clasped in front of him, feet apart and shoulders stiff and straight.

He stared at the flame until his eyes ached and there was nothing but an overwhelming blur of red-orange-white.

[...your destiny...]

[ here...]

The sound of feasting happily dimmed when Kol'la followed Frigga out of the room and down the side passageway to a small room where the King could take rest from the festivities if need be. Red and gold rugs muffled his footsteps and the brilliant tapestries gave the small chamber a warm feeling. Several soft chairs were scattered before the hearth of a small fireplace and a small set of bookshelves sat in the corner of the room. To one side there was another door to a conveniently placed privy. The one table in the room was currently piled with a variety of objects, some of which were born away in large-sized packaging.

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