Chapter Text
COMING SOON THIS APRIL
A quick preview toThe Sundering of Summerhall:
"Wars had been waged for less," said Aerion. His voice, certain but hidden beneath was the slightest tremor; of confusion, rage, or fear as it was, Duncan could not tell but to hear it from the other man earned something of similarity from him and one he had not yet felt in a very long time: fear.
Duncan took a deep heavy breath as he knew there was no other way out than to see it through and as it appeared there before him was Aerion's fierce gaze fixed on him, neither waiting for his own answer or to expect an action Duncan would say to be not warranted, but only apprehensive.
"Then a war I will wage for worse," was what Duncan said in response. "I will suffer no condemnation. I will suffer no pain of loss nor defeat. I will not surrender," but for the first time had Aerion become the voice of reason to Duncan; to reach for the knight's face if only as an attempt to smooth the obvious weight of disturbance Duncan had always been known to deny others to witness even at his own expense and yet there he was to suddenly have lost so much as the strength of his spirit to hide his fear.
"You do not want this, Duncan," reasoned Aerion.
"But I do, and I have made up my mind," returned Duncan whose larger hand came upon Aerion's on his face, holding the older man's.
"My children will live and they will be free," and Aerion was quick to remind Duncan of a fact, saying "Our children, Duncan. Yours and mine. Ours."
Duncan then nodded.
"Aye, ours, my love," he agreed. "So let us be their parents to love them fiercely and even more so to protect them even from their own kin and king," Duncan continued.
"For a knight and a prince are their parents; the children of dragons and of giants to defend their names, Aerion."
To hear Duncan profess such conviction was inspiring — a singular reason to reassure Aerion of what doubts he had would easily be casted down, replaced by the sound purpose of this cause Duncan himself had planted the seed of. And Aerion knew it well.
Aerion heard the knight well and in the process, did he also know what Duncan meant.
"Then the banners, I shall call," he answered.
"And the banners shall answer," said Duncan in response.
The kiss shared was nothing closer to the ones they often had many times before. This time was it heavier — a far more melancholic yet chaste press of lips upon lips sealing not only themselves to one another but so as their fate just as the ones of their own children.
"I do not want our children to see their home turn into a battle encampment. This is their home," grieved Duncan.
"And they shall not," reassured Aerion. "For Starfall will be their home for the time of this campaign. I do not trust Summerhall's weak defenses to fend off any possible strikes upon any of our children, Duncan, lest this be turn into Dragonstone where my own forebear was slain at the very courtyard; forced to witness by her own child."
"The Daynes are of my kin, and like the Martells will they fiercely protect their own."