As the army rode deeper into foreign territory, the lull of Rowan's mare as it walked quickly put her to sleep. But as the procession ceased for a break, she was roused awake by Meliana.
Rowan groaned as she sat up and rubbed her neck, as it had become sore from her poor posture. "Where are we?" Rowan asked, looking around at the strange scenery. They were no longer in the thick evergreen forest that outlined the High Palace's boarders and not a single mountain was in view. Instead, they were in the charred and crumbled remains of a city from the old world.
Meliana shrugged and threw her long pony tail with golden accented clasps over her shoulder. "Who knows. I heard Queen Lana whisper that this once was a placed called Portland."
Rowan pressed her lips into a thin line as she surveyed the area and imagined what those that have long been dead experienced as their beloved city fell. There were a few buildings that stood tall, well over a few hundred feet and she had to crane her head back to look at the top. One had a massive hole in its side, showing the many floors that the building once had. Vines and foliage had grown over much of the land as well as heaps of metal objects that were once used for transportation. She racked her brain as she tried to remember what they were called but could not think of it.
"I bet it was beautiful in its day," Rowan sad, sliding off of her mare and grasping the reigns.
Meliana shrugged once again, "I suppose," she said as they walked to a river to water their horses. Many seemed to have the same idea as people clustered together to walk the small distance. Meliana looked around her shoulders before leaning in closer and lowering her voice, "Sometimes I wonder what it was like to live back in those times. How different would our world be? To live in homes with husbands, to raise children together, to travel the world in a matter of hours? Its hard to fathom."
Rowan looked to her left at her friend who was biting her lip and watching the ground as the walked. "Aye. It almost seems like science fiction..." she said, trailing off. She thought that the conversation had ended when Meliana cleared her throat nervously.
"Do you...do you think that Hvitserk favors me?" she asked nervously, as if she shouldn't be talking about such things.
Rowan's eyes widened as she was taken aback. I thought she hated him? She couldn't be certain, but from the way Horan and Darsa had bickered back and forth and from personal experience with Bjorn, she would have to say that the odds we likely considering they fought like cats and dogs.
Rowan stopped walking and tried her best to hide her smile from her friend. Meliana stopped abruptly as well and her horse neighed softly, then pressed it's head against her chest.
"What?" Meliana asked, ignoring her horse as she looked at Rowan confused.
Rowan could no longer hide her grin and let it slip onto her face slowly. "I am no expert but from my own experiences I would say he does."
Meliana mirrored Rowan and flashed her teeth, "Do you really think so? There is something about him that just....I don't know. He drives me crazy, but I can't help but to be attracted to him, he is so enticing and self-assured."
Rowan laughed again and continued walking once more. "Aye, I think most Rorikmen have those qualities. I've grown fond of the lot of them if I'm being honest," she said, looking into the distance at the large amount of Roriks as they watered their horses. Each kingdom rode separately and she hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Bjorn since they left, so she squinted her eyes in hopes to catch sight of him and spotted him out and to the left.
"I think once all of this is over I shall ask Hvitserk if he wishes to have dinner with me," Meliana said hopefully.
Rowan nodded her head as her smile faltered as she thought of unavoidable battle and the losses shed encounter. In the past, she hardly had to worry about anyone as the only people she cared about were her fellow Sisters, but now, as time had passed, she had come to meet many great people that she had the honor of calling them her friends. And as they drew closer to the river, she wondered who would not be making the trip back to the High Palace to celebrate their victory.
When they arrived, the two Gladeswomen made their way to the river with the fellow Daughters and began preparing their food. Rowan stood into eh slow flowing river up to her ankles, thankful for her water resistant boots, and brushed her mare. She wondered how her open was faring at the Skabelse and hoped she was being taken care of.
Thoughts of the encampment made her thoughts trickle to Darsa and Tursa as she wondered how their pregnancies were faring. She knew their bellies would not be swollen yet, but still imagined them to be showing in her mind as the thought made her happy. She then looked down to her own stomach and wondered if she would soon be carrying Bjorn's child from their intimate night.
Suddenly, a splash of frigid water on her back brought her from her thoughts and she whipped her head around and scowled. Bjorn stood to the edge, whistling a merry tune and looking up at the sky.
"How old are you, twelve? Act your age Prince of Rorik," she spat playfully, then kicked some water up with her boot at him.
"Hey! I didn't get you that bad..." he complained, looking down at his soaked clothing.
"Maybe that will serve as a lesson when it comes to messing with me," she said, turning back and brushing her horse. She heard his feet trample into the water so she wasn't sure why she was surprised when she heard him laugh close behind her in her ear, causing her to jump.
His breath was hot and felt nice as the cold air bit at her skin and she shivered. As he rested his hands on her shoulders she founder herself forgetting about her horse and leaned back into his body. "I was never any good when it came to learning lessons. Just ask the teacher back in Rorik, Vestra."
She smirked to herself even though she knew he couldn't see it and let out a huff of air. "Come to the Glade then, give it a week and you'd learn many lessons. Perhaps even some manners," she teased.
Bjorn chuckled deeply and kissed the back of her neck, "I've missed you. It's a shame we cannot ride together," he said as Rowan turned around. He then shrugged and wagged his eyebrows, "At least you will accompany me in my tent, yes?"
Rowan blushed and playfully pushed him away, almost causing him to trip over a large rock that was hidden under the murky water. She threw her head back in laughter, then again when Bjorn gave her an exaggerated bow and a "Farewell mi' lady."
After she ate and relieved herself, the army set out once more for the Vernanda woodlands with women of Morrstick leading, followed by the Gladeswomen, then men of Loria, the Bluegardes, the Starkes, the High Palace's soilders, the women of Wayland Wood, and the Roriks, and finally the men from Olandry.
It had taken them three hours to reach the thriving and succulent woods and Rowan felt relieved as she realized that soon she would be able to rest.
Once the sun had set, King Olfriq decided that it would be a good place settle down for the night to which everyone agreed.
Rowan let out a sigh of relief and jumped of her horse and made haste of readying her tent as the sun set. Soon, as darkness fell, tents littered the forest floor and it wasn't long before the Bluegardes whipped out bottles of spirits and mead as the chilly evening air settled in.
The sound of chatter and a few tunes as one of Caspian's men sang filled the air and Rowan relaxed by one of the many fires when Bjorn joined her along with Hvitserk and Leif.
"Good evening princess," Leif greeted, sipping from a flask that he brought.
Rowan smiled and motioned to the metal canteen, "Do you always drink before a battle?" She couldn't imagine feeling hungover in the morning or allowing anything to cloud her mind when she needed to focus the most.
Hvitserk let out a chortle as he snagged off a piece of his jerky that one of the maids had given him, "He claims it settles his nerves but I think it's just an excuse so we wont look like a drunk."
Leif scowled and smacked the back of Hvitserk's head, messing up his hair but said nothing, earning a round of laughs from those who were watching.
After another hour had passed, many of the Bluegardes were drunk and almost half the camp had gone to bed.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom and probably to bed after," Bjorn said, stretching.
Rowan nodded and yawned, "I'll meet you in the tent," she said, then stood up and brushed herself off of the dirt and leafs from the forest floor.
"I'll come with you," Hvitserk said, then followed Bjorn into the dark woods.
The fires light was not able to reach this far, leaving them in almost pitch black darkness save for the small amount of light the crescent moon was able to give.
Laughter, chatter, and the distant sound of crickets drowned out any indication that the two Roriks were not alone. Bjorn stood a few feet away from Hvitserk and had just started fiddling with his trousers when a strong muscular arm came from behind him and cut off his air ways.
"Guess who?" a deep voice said as he dragged Bjorn away.