Chapter Text
Kingdom of Lacroa
Approximately a hundred and fifty years before the hatching of Zero, the Winged Knight. . .
Aketon dismounted his horse well in view of the house, seeing movement within through the open front door out of the corner of his eye. Guisarme tossed his head, sidestepping Aketon's attempt to calm him.
It was a simple, single story home on the smaller side. Nothing fancy, but evidently kept in good shape.
Any further observations Aketon could have made of the property were disrupted by a scream he heard come from inside the house, and he bolted to the door, rushing inside when he heard the sounds of a struggle further within.
The gundam followed the noises to a bedroom, seeing a darkly dressed human with a knife cornering his sister, and a human woman he didn't recognize standing protectively in front of her. Aketon only took enough time to see the evident swell of his sister's belly, the fear in both women's eyes, and the stranger trying to get to his sister before launching himself at the stranger. Though he was shorter, Aketon had the more strength between the two and was able to easily haul them out of the house.
The stranger grabbed awkwardly onto his cape, pulling Aketon down with them as they lose their balance. Aketon retaliated by wrestling the knife out of their grip and throwing it off into the distance.
Aketon and the assassin start trading blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. A cloud of dust was kicked up as they brawled. Somewhere in the struggle, Aketon's opponent pulled out a second knife and thrust it upwards.
Aketon gasped as the blade slid in, sinking to the hilt just under his chest armour. Fortunately, this blade was smaller than the one the assassin had originally been holding, meaning it didn't cause as much damage as the other one could have.
His opponent tried to take advantage of Aketon recoiling, but the knight refused to let go and took a swing, hitting the assassin directly in the stomach. They wheezed, allowing Aketon to punch them in the jaw. A second quick punch knocked them out, and Aketon got off of them, a hand steadying the knife still stabbing him.
With a grunt of pain, Aketon quickly yanked the knife out, pressing his other hand to the wound as blood started to flow freely. He muttered a spell under his breath, feeling the itch of the wound sealing itself together. The edges of it pull as he straightens, threatening to become sore if he pushed it too much before it healed fully. The spell had done ninety percent of the work, but it was up to his body to finish it.
Seeing that his opponent was still out cold, he went to a nervously prancing Guisarme and took a coil of rope hanging from his saddle. He quickly tied them up and set a rune circle that would tell him if they tried to escape or if someone tried to remove them.
Now that his new prisoner was temporarily secure, he returned to the house, calling for his sister.
"Aketon. . . ?" came Zenith's hesitant voice. The human woman that had been with her appeared in the bedroom doorway, gaze darting about in search of any danger in waiting. Satisfied that it appeared safe, she stepped into the main room, Zenith following behind.
She hurried to her brother, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you," she said, her voice full of emotion. "I. . . I thought we were. . ."
"What else are big brothers for?" he half joked, returning the hug and feeling her tremble in his arms. He was trembling too, he realized, from the rush of the fight and the magic he'd had to use.
Last he'd seen his sister was close to two months ago now, and when he'd gone looking for her on the request of their mother Aventail, he hadn't expected to find her obviously carrying a clutch or being threatened at knifepoint by an assassin.
Over his sister's shoulder, he locked eyes with the other woman, who looked at him with equal parts curiosity and caution. Which was fair for someone who'd had one stranger invade what was more likely than not her home, and then had a second stranger show up to fight the first.
He had no romantic or sexual interest in humans, but he could still recognize beauty, and Aketon admitted to himself that she was pretty. Long blond hair in a braid, bright green eyes, and brown skin.
"Who's this?" he asked his sister, who pulled free of his hug so she could turn to look at the woman.
"Ah, well," Zenith. . . squirmed, shooting her a nervous look, "this is Laura. She's my. . . friend."
Friend? The way Zenith said that rang some alarm bells in his head.
"I've been staying with her since I. . ." she glanced down. "Since I discovered I was carrying."
Aketon had never seen her so nervous before. He decided to have some mercy on her, and focused on Laura instead of asking the questions he very, very much wanted to about her carrying and the way she'd said friend.
He wrapped an arm around Zenith's shoulders, and nodded in greeting to Laura. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances. I am Aketon, Knight of the Equinox."
"My brother," Zenith supplied.
"Thank the Dragon for you showing up when you did," Laura said, some of the tenseness fading from her posture. She had the soft, lilting accent common to the Lacroans living in more rural areas of the kingdom. "I wasn't sure how we were going to get out of that."
"Do you know who would want to send someone after you?"
Laura sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. A minor noble who lives in the area has had his eyes on me for a few years now. He wants to marry me, but I have no interest in doing so."
Zenith pulled herself free from her brother's one-armed hug and tiredly sat down in a nearby chair. "I scared him off when he tried making advances on her. I suppose he sees me as an obstacle he has to get rid of in order to get her, now." She puts her hands on her knees, and Aketon can see the exhaustion creeping in.
"If it is him," Laura said, crossing her arms. "But if it isn't. . . then I have no idea who would want to." She looked at Zenith, concern in her face and voice. "I never thought that he'd be willing to order an assassination on someone."
Aketon sighed, closed his eyes, and ran a hand down his face. His mana use, the fight, and all the riding he'd done today was wearing on him. He'd been hoping to have an uneventful check in with his sister, but now it was looking like he'd have to investigate who was trying to kill her instead.
Laura looked between the siblings, and realized that all three of them were exhausted. "Aketon, would you like to stay the night? you would be out far too late if you ride back to town."
"I'd be grateful - do you have somewhere I could secure that captive of ours?" He jerked his thumb out the door towards the still limp shape on the ground.
"The shed should work," Zenith offered. "Shore it up with some spells and they'll be fine in there for the night. And you can put Guisarme with Hobelar in the paddock."
"Sounds good to me," Aketon said.
He walked out the door, examined the would-be assassin - still alive, good - and hoisted them over his shoulder. He saw the shed Zenith had mentioned, and easily opened the door. He set them down leaning on a wall, and modified the bindings so they'd still be secure but more comfortable long term. He also patted them down for weapons, since he'd forgotten to do that earlier. stupid of him - he was lucky the assassin hadn't woken back up and managed to cut themself free.
Something crinkled in a pocket as he did. "What's this?" he muttered to himself as he pulled it out, revealing a folded piece of paper.
He unfolded it, and quickly skimmed the writing. Ah, looked like a contract of some kind. He'd read it more thoroughly when he was back inside.
Outside the shed, he set up some additional security spells. One would let him know if anyone crossed the boundary, and another would let him keep an eye on the prisoner's status - alive, awake, moving, asleep, in distress, etc. He stood up from where he had been kneeling down to draw the rune circles, and blinked away the spots in his eyes. He was getting quite tired now.
With the prisoner secured, Aketon headed to Guisarme, who snorted in greeting and nosed at the knight's wound in worry. He patted the stallion and led him to the paddock, where Hobelar and another horse stood by the fence, ears perked as Aketon and Guisarme approached the gate.
Aketon had travelled light, so he only had to remove his pack and saddlebags before he could take off Guisarme's saddle, blanket, and bridle. He quickly brushed down the stallion and then turned him loose in the paddock.
He swung his pack over his shoulders, laid the blanket, bridle and saddlebags across the saddle, picked up the saddle, and then trudged back to the house. He winced as the weight pulled at his wound.
The knight gundam placed down the saddle just by the door inside, sliding off his pack as well. He looks up, not seeing his sister in the room. Laura emerges from the bedroom with some blankets, dropping them on a cot that she'd evidently set up while Aketon had been dealing with the prisoner.
"Where's Zenith?" he asked.
"I got her settled into her nest," Laura replied. "She was getting herself worked up over the attack and that's not good for her right now."
If Zenith was nesting, she was pretty far along in her carriage then. Probably would be going to lay within the week at most.
Aketon swallowed down the flash of hurt that came from the fact that Zenith hadn't told him or the rest of their family about her carriage - she likely had a good reason for it, but it still stung.
"Here," Laura said. She dropped a pillow at the end of the cot and gave him a look he couldn't decipher. "Not the most comfortable bed there ever was, but it'll be fine for the night, I think. Do you need anything before I turn in for the night?"
". . . No, I'll be alright. Thank you, you didn't have to set this up." Aketon nudged his pack out of the way. "I was willing to sleep in my bedroll."
Laura looked affronted at the thought. "On the floor?! Nonsense. It'd be rude of me to let you do that. Zenith is dear to me, and she clearly cares about you, so you are dear to me as well."
Aketon dipped his head in acquiescence. "Thank you, you are very kind." He sat down on the edge of the cot, and ran a hand down the topmost blanket. It was thick and rough, woven in a simple plaid pattern.
He heard her walk away, but he didn't look up from where he was staring at his lap.
For a while Aketon was lost in his own thoughts. They swirl around in his head as the sun finally sinks below the horizon, and he came back to himself with a start. It's dark in the house now.
He sighed, peeled off the top blanket, and took off his armour. His helmet is the last piece to be removed, carefully tucked with the rest by his pack. The blanket was rough on the flexible metal skin of his shoulder, but he could already feel the warmth it brought as he pulled it up to his chin.
Aketon's eyes drift closed, and he dreamed unremembered dreams of grief and tragedy. . .