Moonspear lladd fi

@Speedy

He has kept an uncharacteristically low profile since returning from Blackfeather Woods. There are times here and there where he emerged from his shell, but they are few and far between. He is more ghoul than guardian these days, drifting through patrols, the look in his eyes reminiscent of a man who sees something far removed from the path before him.

The prince is dead. Long live King Rhys of Mynydd. Long may he reign.

When had Llewellyn ap Gwynedd died, and Llew the gilded ghost had come to replace him? There is no moment in particular to pinpoint as his downfall. It is the careful, deliberate deconstruction of a once-formidable wall, a brick-by-brick effort.

He is more than humbled; he is dirt-poor here, and his name is meaningless. He is not anything particularly special, contrary to everything he was told throughout life in Mynydd. He rules nothing and will never do so. Tales will never be spun, nor songs sung, in his honor.

He is and always will be forgotten. A prince in exile, the pretender to the throne.

If Llewellyn was aware of the growing rebellion in Mynydd, with brave souls calling for his ascension, he would return immediately. As it was, he is here, on the Moonspear, where all he has to show for himself is a mindless fealty and myriad scars from the Blackfeather bitch. He is nothing here—he will always be nothing here. He has sealed his own fate with his pledge of loyalty to this mountain.

Oh, how he wishes he could bring it down, pebbles and all, for what has become of him here! He sends a glare toward the snow-capped precipice, stalking through the evergreens near the summit. The air is thin and cold here, and the silence is deafening.

He can hear each and every beat of his heart, and he hates it.

:(

Her injury was mostly healed, leaving only pink skin where the bite wound had been. The last few nights had offered mostly peaceful sleep, but last night the teeth and the familiar eyes woke her in the middle of the night again, and she hadn't been able to go back to sleep. She had fooled herself into thinking that she was finally getting over the incident, but it seemed she wasn't quite there yet. It didn't even make sense; she didn't even blame Revui for it. In fact, all she had wanted to do was help him, yet his teeth and eyes still haunted her dreams. To add to all of that, now he was missing, and she worried about whether he was alive or dead.

She was moving through the trees, content to remain lost in thought when a puff of snow came tumbling down from the fir tree above to land on her back. She quickly shook the cold stuff from her coat, inquisitive gaze glancing up and the snow-covered needles and seeing the empty patch that had clearly dumped its snow onto her back as she passed below. She shrugged a little, the movement casting her golden stare to the right to land on the familiar form of Llewellyn. Her tail wagged a little. She had not much of him lately, and she felt bad for not checking on him more after his run in with blackfeather. 

She trotted towards him, releasing a soft huff as she padded through the snow before stopping in front of him. Hey you, she greeted, clearly happy to see him. You doing okay? She wondered if, like her, he was also troubled by his blackfeather incident.

Out of everyone here, Speedy is easiest to speak to. Perhaps it is because he feels like she is not someone he needs to impress. There are no appearances to keep up. He feels some of the darkness leave him, upon hearing her voice, and gives her a kind look, coming to a halt as well. Almost a smile, but not quite. It is too difficult, these days.

Bore da, he rumbles, dipping his head. Speedy. I am. . . He trails off, unable to answer her question without thinking first of the words he means to use. How truthful does he want to be? No one wants to deal with someone wallowing in the pit of despair, least of all him. Alive, he concludes with a sigh, an inkling of dark humor escaping with the word.

He tilts his head, regarding her for a moment before speaking again. And you? Llewellyn asks. How do you fare? He is still incensed about the incidents with that Blackfeather woman; God help her if he ever finds her again. He will destroy her.

His answer concerned her a little, and Speedy moved close enough to feel his warmth before sitting down, hoping that hers might soothe whatever was troubling him. Alive? she asked quietly, concern creasing her brow. Something felt off about him, sad even. She couldn't explain how she knew, other than she could just feel it. The better she knew someone, the more clearly she could sense a strong shift in their emotional state. He had never been one to be very forthcoming with well, anything really, but it was impossible for her not to try and help, even if that meant just listening. What's wrong? she finally asked softly, lightly touching his cheek with her nose if allowed. 

The healer smiled a little at his inquiry. I'm okay, she replied, and it was mostly the truth. The nightmares still interrupted her sleep here and there, and even though they confused her greatly, she felt like she was slowly getting back to normal herself.

He gives into her questioning, knowing that he wouldn't allow anyone else here the same courtesy. Nor many back home, either. Perhaps his sisters, or at least Seren. His parents. But apart from that. . . It is a sign of immense trust that he puts his heart in front of Speedy, and says a lot about her character. Her kindness, her natural empathy. She is good.

I do not belong here, Llewellyn says hoarsely, dipping his head. I was born to be a king. Here, I am a follower, and no more. This is not the path I was meant to walk, ever. I am lost, Speedy. The only place that I have ever felt like I belonged was home. . .and I can never go home again.

Emotions flicker over his face like tongues of fire, burning in the depths of his eyes, sparking as the corners of his mouth tremble. I am more miserable than I have been in my life, and I cannot escape it. That bombshell dropped, he stares at the woman, as if she is the remedy to all his problems. Intent on latching on to each and every one of her kind words, as if they are water and he is a man dying of thirst.

She was a little surprised at first to hear him tell her so much about how he was feeling, even going as far as to offer her a peak at his history. But the surprise was only brief, quickly replaced with worry and deep sympathy. She couldn't stand to see him so torn up, and she was afraid she wouldn't have the right words to say. To hear that he felt lost and miserable broke her heart. She drew in a soft breath, concerned gaze searching his face. Oh, Llewellyn, she started. I am so sorry you can never return home, she expressed first, understanding a little what that must be like, for she also had a home that she loved, and she would be devastated if she was unable to ever return there. I think you're so much more than a follower, but if you're unhappy living under someone else's command, then maybe you should seek a claim of your own. Her kind gaze still remained on his face as he spoke, even as it pained her to encourage him to ultimately leave. But his misery was palpable and it squeezed her heart so tightly that she would do or say just about anything that might give him some relief. I know it won't be the same as home, but maybe you would be able to find some happiness, she added. But if it helps at all, she started, averting her gaze. You're important to me, she said quietly, eyes still cast down at their feet, uncertainty making her uncharacteristically shy. She made the admission hoping it might make him feel better to be important to someone. Maybe it would help him not feel so lost. She was here because he asked her to come after all.

He nods in agreement, though the task seems nearly insurmountable. Perhaps at one point he could do what she describes—start a kingdom from scratch, gain followers. Now he barely has the energy to keep his head up. How is he to ever become king of anything again.

Her words warm him, nonetheless. Thank you, Speedy, he rumbles, his face growing softer. It does. . .it does matter. And you're-- You are important to me. The words stick in his throat, for some reason, but he hopes she can read them in his eyes.

Llewellyn swings his head away, clearing his throat. Ah. . .walk with me? the prince offers, a little sheepishly. He begins to pad off without waiting for her response, but then turns abruptly, fixing his gaze on hers. You are important to me as well, he says with confidence, dipping his head. And I am grateful for your friendship.

He waits for her to join him, then, on a spin around the Moonspear.

 

Can we fade this? I started a new thread for them. <3

Of course! <3

She could read the unspoken words on his face, and she smiled warmly at him. When he asked her to walk with him, she wagged her tail, glad to accept his offer. He moved forward before she did but stopped to turn back and speak the words he couldn't say before. She caught up to him then, still smiling. I'm grateful for yours as well, she returned, although it was more than friendship for her. It didn't matter, though. She was glad just to have earned some of his trust. She happily walked beside him as they made their way through the mountains, thankful once again to be here.