Chapter Text
Prologue
“Steady, just like how we practiced.” An Elven man, states to the young girl in front of him who was poised to shoot with a bow and arrow at a training dummy paces away from them.
The young girl pulls the bowstring with much strength - the strain causing her right arm to tremble. Closing her eyes in brief, she mutters a few words. “ Let the mountain and the forest be my witnesses. Alltid sant. ” Then eyes of sapphire blue flutter open in sync with the release of a taut string. The arrow flies with blinding speed and engraves itself on the dummy’s midriff with a loud crunch with some straw falling out.
For a moment, silence envelopes the atmosphere with only the breathing of a young girl, and the exhilarating rush from nocking an arrow through a bow can be felt from the tips of her fingers. Suddenly a steadily resounding applause shakes her from her stupor. Turning around, a proud smile is etched on the man’s features. “Papa, I did it! Bloede, that felt good. Modron Freyja must be watching over me right now.” The older man shakes his head in thought. "I don’t think Modron Freyja would be proud of you invoking her name after cussing in elven. Ah, this wedd." A tug on his sleeve brings him back to reality and sees his daughter grinning wildly at him. “Let’s do that again, Papa! But can you show me when you do it?” Knowing he can’t refuse, he nods at her. Before he could reply, a deafening roar pierces through the air, jolting both of them.
“HYLDEGARD FREDA! FERASEL!! I haven’t got all day! I asked for firewood and what’re you doing aye?” A fuming woman emerges from one of the nearby huts, calling the attention of the elven man and his daughter. Ferasel grimaces knowing full well that nothing can save him from the wrath of his wife. He glances at his daughter who’s covering her mouth feigning shock. “I see the two of you’re preoccupied with something else rather than collecting what I told you.” The woman shakes her head and rubs her forehead in disdain. “Oh Modron, we were just trainin’ like always. We’re already packing up, right Papa?” Hyldegard sees her father still eyes closed and face grimacing resulting to her jabbing his side with her elbow. “Right, Papa? ” Feeling the arm digging his side he sighs. “Yes. Hyldegard can you get the firewood? I’ll bring our bows.”
While his daughter collects some firewood stacked nearby, he walks to the dummy and dislodges the arrows both him and Hyldegard shot. Turning around he almost collides into a shorter figure. “A d'yaebl—”. He never gets to finish the cuss as a hand cups his mouth muffling the words. “Ferasel! Stop cussing in Elder in front of the child!” Pulling the hand on his mouth he gasps. “As if you aren’t the same Ragna. Why do you have to sneak up on me?” The anger simmers off Ferasel as two arms weave around his waist with a chin resting on his chest. “A former Scoia'tael commander, startled by a lowly Skelliger? You’re going soft, Ferasel.” His gaze slowly meets that of his wife’s, cupping one of her cheeks and rubbing soothing circles on it with his thumb. A serene smile etches itself on both of their faces. “Only for you, me minne.”
The couple unwraps themselves from each other when they hear someone fake gag near them. They turn around and come across their own child, sneering at their show of intimacy. “C’mere ya rascal.” Ragna pulls her child towards her, placing an arm over Hyldegard’s shoulder while ruffling her hair. Ferasel sighs at the antics of his wife and daughter, crouching down to collect the bows while inserting the arrows in the quivers. As he looks up, melancholy fills his veins, reminiscing of a life before this - never quite thinking that a family was possible for him given his previous occupation.
“Ferasel!” “Papa!” was shouted in unison causing Ferasel to be shaken out of his thoughts. As if feeling a weight lifted from his shoulders, he feels non-existent hands push him on his back, urging him to his family. He looks back to the forest behind him, hoping that wherever his comrades were they would now be residing peacefully where the apple trees bloom. He trudges to his wife and daughter, knowing full well that his unit members would have told him to go back and rejoin the living. Two outstretched hands are waiting for him and he laughs at the gesture. Strapping their bows and quivers on his back, he interlocks both of his hands on Ragna and Hyldegard’s hand. “So what will we be eating today, hmm Hyldegard?” “Pumpkin soup, papa!” “Might take a short while since the both of you didn’t return immediately back with firewood!”