Chapter Text
The flight to Tarrah turned out to take longer than he expected; it seemed as if the winds didn’t want them to reach the city. But they couldn’t afford to be late. The letter the king got from the Empire wasn’t a pleasant one and Arion had a bad feeling about what would await him in Tarrah. Rumors about Grannvale’s attack had even made it to the kingdom, some even said the duke had been executed.
“Prince Arion, Tarrah is ahead of us!”
Behind the clouds, this city known for its wealth appeared before them. But the closer they got, the more the rumors were confirmed. The houses showed signs of recent attacks and some had even been completely destroyed. In front of the manor house, Arion spotted the imperial convoy, as announced in the letter, and ordered his men to land.
“We expected the king today, not the prince.” was the warm welcome.
"My father has been sent on an important mission to the north and apologizes for not being able to be here. He sent me in his place," Arion explained, noticing how some of the men rolled their eyes in annoyance while others began to grin like donkeys in a cowshed.
"Of course you hyenas will take any job for money. Your king really does have as much pride as a common thief. At least we know who we can turn to for the dirty work," the man laughed and the others joined him.
“The letter didn’t state a further reason for the visit, I’m afraid.” the prince continued, maintaining his posture the best he could.
“Right. Please be our guest.”, a surrogate answered with a malicious smile, “If you would follow us. Alone.” he added.
Arion grimaced but understood and nodded reluctantly, telling his own convoy to stay there for the time being. The soldiers shot angry and worried looks at him, they knew it was dangerous to go alone, unarmed as well. But the Empire demanded it. This city was an example of what Grannvale was able to do if they gave them a reason to attack; he had understood that much by now.
First, they led him through the city itself. As he had seen from above, many buildings were heavily damaged. The streets caught his eye and Arion assumed there must have been barricades to fight back the Imperial invasion. The people he saw were not unlike those in the kingdom but once they noticed the troup, they glared at them. Some spit before them only for the young man to watch in horror as the guards castigated them.
"I hope you're enjoying our tour so far," a deputy began, "That's what happens to people who don't show respect for the empire. I'm sure you Thracian dogs are more obedient than the townsfolk here."
Arion didn’t respond but clenched his fist. It was good he was the one coming here today instead of the king. He wasn’t sure if his father would’ve been able to compose himself when confronted with this much humiliation.
Finally, they returned to their starting point. To his relief, his convoy had followed his command. Arion already prepared some sentences to bid them farewell but instead they gestured to him to follow inside the mansion.
“It would be rude not to pay a visit to duke Tarrah, wouldn’t you agree?” a man asked.
The prince nodded. The rumors about the duke’s demise seemed to be wrong then, however there was an amused ring in the way he said it Arion didn’t like.
The interior of the house wasn’t as affected by the attack as he had expected. The duke must have surrendered quickly. That, or Grannvale had already chosen a new ruler to insert in the city, deciding to continue using the mansion as the seat of power.
They went upstairs and stopped in a hall that Arion assumed must be the conference room. There was a map on the table in the middle but aside from that, it was empty.
“The duke is waiting at the end of the room.”
He eyed the men.
Something wasn't right. They knew the room was empty. Was this a trap? Did they want to humiliate him further, or had it been their plan to kill him from the start?
He advanced cautiously, listening to the sounds of the men behind him. He had brought a dagger with him. Just in case. If they tried to attack him now, he would not hesitate to make use of it.
But what he saw when he reached the window at the end of the room. When he heard the group behind him laughing loudly. He saw with horror that all the rumors had been true. Duke Tarah was dead.
The impaled head hanging in front of the balcony was proof of that.
"Duke Tarrah hid Prince Leif in the city and was rightly executed for his crime. The citizens deserve to know what we do to criminals."
Arion looked away.
"I know that Thracia would never shelter the son of its hated enemy. But be warned. One false move and Grannvale will repeat what you saw here today. You don't want it to be your father's head next time, do you?"
He didn't turn around, but gritted his teeth. He needed to calm down first. Showing his fear or anger was the last thing they should see.
"The duke has a daughter. Pretty little thing, but unfortunately not very talkative. We've been interrogating her for months now, but the girl still won't give us any information about Prince Leif's whereabouts."
“Even at the sight of her father’s head, she didn’t lose her tongue but I’m confident she will give in eventually."
"Why are you telling me all this?!" the prince turned around only to be greeted by an amused crowd.
"We planned to pay the girl a visit as well."
Arion glared at them but didn't argue. He had never seen the duke's daughter before nor really known of her existence.
"The girl lives in a separate building now, so we can keep an eye on her. At this time of the day, she should be in the living room."
Arion shot them an ice-cold look, fearing the worst.
"No need to fret, she's alive. For now."
Silently, he followed the men to the mentioned building. Compared to the mansion it was plain, both from the outside and inside. Fitting for its role as a prison. They knocked on a door and a weak voice answered them.
The girl Arion saw was pale. She instantly averted her gaze when she saw who had knocked and stared at the floor.
"Lady Linoan, we have a visitor today. Prince Arion of Thracia followed our invitation. We just met with the former duke." the girl trembled at the mention of her father.
“You’re free to leave whenever you please, Prince Arion.”
As the men bid their farewell, he watched the girl's reaction. More humiliation, they knew exactly she wasn’t allowed to leave this place. But she seemed to be numb to everything around her. Nothing. She said nothing. She didn't move. She just sat on the couch and continued to stare at the ground. Arion wasn't sure if she even realized he was with her in the room.
Gazing to his side, he confirmed that they indeed had closed the door. It made sense, they had expected his father to be the one coming here today. Never in his life would he have felt sorry for someone from the north and he would have let the duchess know that. The convoy had arranged this meeting to degrade both of them, Arion is sure. They felt confident there would be no way of an agreement between the North and the South. But he would thwart their plan.
“Milady?”
No reaction.
“My sincere condolences.”
“I don’t need your pity.” she spit out without looking at him. “What do you want from me?”
The anger in her tone hid the despair and fear fairly well. She tried hard but he could see right through her. It wasn’t the conversation start Arion would have liked but it was better than talking against a wall.
“I imagine you must be grieving deeply. Rest assured, I will see to it that your father receives a proper burial.” he paused, waiting for her reaction.
“If there’s anything I can do, please don’t be afraid to-”
“I’m fine.” she interrupted him.
A very poor lie. The prince had long noticed her constant shaking that she tried to hide the best she could. From what the men said, she must have been imprisoned here for at least three months, likely more and he had no doubt these ‘interrogations’ the convoy called them should rather be called tortures. As always lately, he hated to be right when he spotted multiple scars and fresh cuts on her arms as she shifted up.
“I don’t want help from the likes of you!” Linoan yelled. “You caused all of this! You murdered our royal family and invaded our lands! I don’t wish to exchange pleasantries with a Southerner, let alone the prince!”
The North has treated Southern Thracia like dirt for a century, calling us hyenas in order to dehumanize us. Not only causing but maintaining poverty in our kingdom. It was your royal family that denied us help while living in luxury. Every attack on Munster was an act of desperation. You cannot expect us to overcome that despair by letting The Wall of Leonster fight us back. Violence, after all, brings retribution. And a lot had accumulated over the years.
Yet, he knew full well that the duchess was nowhere near a position nor state of mind to change their situation. Right now, these words wouldn’t help anyone. On the contrary, it wouldn’t end but only fuel the dispute the Empire undoubtedly wanted to happen between them. Grannvale used their mutual hatred to their own advantage. If they allied, they could become a threat but as long as both nations hated each other more than they did Grannvale, the Empire had nothing to fear.
Arion had been eight when they lost against Grannvale and still remembered his father’s disgust for the forced peace treaty. In retrospect, they’ve done the Empire a favor by eliminating the most dangerous forces before. Munster with the Gae Bolg and their elite knights would’ve been a lot harder for Grannvale to defeat. But without their lance knights, it had been possible to crush the remaining resistance with King Calf and the four kingdoms. His father had told him Thracia would flourish greatly in the future. And at first it really had. With the crops from Munster their people didn’t have to starve anymore for the first time. For the first time they could feast to their heart’s delight.
But in the end, they’d lost it all again. Although they had an advantage over Munster, the kingdom had suffered many losses. Raydrik’s betrayal made it childsplay for Grannvale to drive Thracia out of the country. His father had seen his dream crumble to dust and he had surrendered to avoid more deaths.
The Empire made them do the dirty work again. They let the king do the dirty work, knowing fully well that he wouldn’t be too good for attacking with an unfair advantage. Just for the Empire to claim victory in the end.
The prince knew his father had no mercy for those people. Arion heavily doubted that he had spared their princess's life out of compassion. Back then, he must have seen the Gae Bolg and the matching holy blood in hand’s reach. It always made him sick to remember the happy memories he made with Altena, that the two of them growing up as siblings had only been possible because of his father’s murder of her parents. And worse, she was still living in ignorance about it.
All these cruelties Thracia’s king had committed in the northern lands during that time were not forgotten. Just like the suffering the North had caused for the kingdom before. Countless people on both sides had died for nothing. Admittedly, it wasn’t surprising the people from the North hated them as much as they did the Empire. Both nations had caused them only harm.
"I can't undo the things that have happened in the past," he said truthfully instead, "If you don't want to talk to me, I won't waste your time any longer. But know that I am willing to help you. Not as the deceptive hyenas you think we are. But as the Crown Prince of Thracia," he emphasized.
This time, the duchess didn't make an effort to hide her feelings. Arion caught a glimpse of her confused expression before she looked away from him again. It was obvious that she had expected a harsh retort but that did not align with his intentions.
"Why... What do you hope to accomplish from me? If you want Tarrah, it would be easier for both of us if you killed me here and now."
With that, the Duchess stood up, green eyes looking at him. Now he understood why she had not given him a single glance before. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and he knew all too well why she would not show weakness to anyone. And yet, she had chosen to show it to him now, and Arion interpreted that as a sign to stay. Only he could save her. He had realized that if she even knew anything at all, she would soon take it to the grave with her. The prince held her life in his hands, and she seemed to realize that.
"I know you want nothing more than your freedom, and I will grant it to you. The only thing I ask in return is that you trust me."
There were times when he had greatly admired his father’s devotion to the kingdom, making himself known on the continent, for better or worse, sullying his own reputation as long as it meant their people wouldn't starve. But lately, he wondered more and more often if this was really the right approach. With the ruthless way the king acted, it only fueled the narrative Munster had invented of them. For a long time, he had shared his father’s vision. They needed the fertile soil and would take it by force, returning to the glorious days of Crusader Dáinn.
With the mercenary jobs alone, they could just about keep their heads above water financially. The firm treaties with the Empire helped, but a kingdom forced to live as sellswords was not what Arion wanted Thracia to remain.
The kingdom alone wasn’t strong enough to stand a chance against Grannvale. But if they had allies, that would be a different story. His father used to call that hideous man Raydrik one but he proved that all he wanted was power. No, Thracia needed truly trustful allies. And this could only be achieved by an alliance formed on exactly that.
If he really wanted to make a difference, prove to his father that there were more ways than conquest to improve their lives, he had to start now. Grannvale had left the duchess nothing but her title but Tarrah was a strategically important city. Meath may be the city closest to Conote but the border was heavily guarded. Nobody would expect them to launch an attack on King Bloom from Tarrah. Located in the south-west on the border to Thracia, their dragonknights could perfectly use the huge mountains to their advantage. From what he’s heard the late duke had been popular among the citizens, so he assumed his daughter would be as well. Being able to call her an ally would greatly benefit him in the future. If he could convince her to trust him, he would have the people of Tarrah on his side. And maybe his father’s approval as well.
He would use the suffering Friege was causing in the North to Thracia’s advantage, not the other way around.
Linoan’s quiet sobbing brought him back to the moment.
“My father… is dead. Tarrah is destroyed and I haven’t been allowed to leave this prison for what feels like an eternity. I am in fear of what every new day will bring.” her voice trembled, no longer did she suppress her pain. “There is nothing more I want than for the torture to end. I hope I will perish soon so I can escape this nightmare and be with my family again.”
“I don’t want you to die.” Arion heard himself say, “I want you to live.”
Linoan stared at him and began to tremble again. They looked into each other's eyes without either of them saying a word. Arion did not need to explain his words. He meant them. It had been a long time since the prince had not thought his words through, worse, he sounded just like a child. But he just couldn't hear her wishing for death, he had heard those words too many times in the past to ignore.
If he could save just one person this day, it would be a start. He would prevent the Empire from claiming another life.
"I will save you, I promise. Please don't throw your life away like it means nothing."
Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she continued to stare at him. The burning hatred in her eyes had long since extinguished and melted into a deep despair. Without thinking, he slowly walked up to the young woman and cautiously extended his hand to her.
Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his, and he couldn't help but exhale in relief. As he felt the coldness of her hand touching his, he saw a glimmer of hope in those deep green eyes.
But then, she suddenly took her hand away, and instead aggressively wiped away her tears.
"You won't trick me into believing you. Surely you are already thinking of ways you can take advantage of me.... There is no reason for me to keep on living. There is no future for me and I would rather die in my beloved city than become a hostage of Thracia."
Shocked, Arion had to watch her turn away from him again, intending to end the conversation that way. But he couldn't let her. He could not leave her to her fate. Nor did he want to.
In the heat of the moment, he grabbed her arm and managed to regain her attention. Desperation clouded her vision again. As she began to move, trying to free herself from his grip, he asked the one thing he thought would hopefully, hopefully change her mind at this point. Prove to her that he was serious.
"You won’t be a hostage. I want a life with you by my side."
She stared at him, at a loss for words. Seconds passed without a response. He took a deep breath and prayed that what he was about to say would save her from her doom.
"Lady Linoan, I hereby ask for your hand in marriage. I promise to treat you with respect and keep you safe. So I ask you: Will you marry me?"
He would try. He was willing to form an alliance based on trust. Now it was his turn to fight for his people. But not with steel alone; his father had proven that a victory solely won with blood did not last. For the sake of the peninsula and for hers, he would see to it that this everlasting conflict came to an end.
The shock on her face slowly dissolved into disbelief. The prince returned the duchess' searching gaze with steady eyes before the young woman put her hands on her face and tried to stifle the tears she could no longer hold back. And that was all the assurance Arion needed.
It worked. Thank Dáinn, it worked.
Quickly, he took off his mantle and carefully placed it upon her shoulders. In the South, it was customary for a man to put a piece of his own clothing around his betrothed to symbolize that he would protect her from harm. Arion knew that one day he would do the same, but actually doing it felt a little embarrassing. Tears fell on his coat, but he didn't mind. Linoan looked so fragile in the oversized garment, as if she might burst at any moment.
Swallowing, he gently embraced her slim form and felt her clinging to his chest. The sudden touch startled him, but he managed to fight the urge to pull away. Her tears were not about to stop any time soon, he was afraid.
In his homeland, one was condemned for crying. It was considered a weakness, an inability to keep one's emotions under control. But Arion never looked down on Altena for crying so often. On the contrary, it broke his heart to see her unhappy, and he did everything he could to make her feel better. Because of that, his father had always scolded him, telling him that his soft heart would get him in big trouble one day. Maybe he was right - he most certainly was. But he would worry about that later. Right now, it felt more right to support Linoan than anything else.
"I'll make sure you never have to endure anything like this again. You have my word."