Hadand Algara-Vayir (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deheldegarthe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
triangularity2016-04-03 12:48 am
deheldegarthe) wrote in triangularity2016-04-03 12:48 am
Entry tags:
Hadand | runaway AU where her betrothal is dissolved | Open to assorted cross-canon AUs!
She remained silent as he glared down at her with those angry green eyes she’d braced herself all her life to endure. To deflect. He had never struck her, but he’d beaten Evred and Barend frequently enough that his presence in the schoolroom had felt akin to impending thunder all the days of their childhood.
“I will marry Joret, and you’ll get an honorable treaty,” he said, having planned that much, and practiced it over and over to get it out in one piece, with no tremor.
She gasped. "What?”
“Marry. Joret. You and I. Go to Father together. You marry a p-p-prince. Trade. Alliance. All with honor.” He got that out with utter conviction—there was no going back, not now. He’d promised Joret.
"Have you, uh, seen her?” Hadand groped wildly for the real world, which seemed to have slipped sideways, leaving her in a terrible dream.
--
The week or two that follow are like a bad dream continued. None of it is real, somehow, until she sees Joret at Aldren's side in front of the whole city. Joret is as unwilling to take Hadand's place as hlinlaef, the heir's betrothed, as Hadand was to give it up. It was her duty. And her home, of course. And her honor, she supposes. She was going to outrank every woman in the kingdom, and she's trained all her life for it. If Hadand has to leave her responsibilities to anyone else, someone she loves and trusts like a sister is obviously best, but...
But trouble seeks out Joret, lured in by her beauty. Hadand thinks she'd be hard-put to find a single man in the kingdom, at least among those whose interests run toward women, who isn't attracted to Joret.
None of that is left to her, and she's seen what Queen Wisthia's life was like every day for the past twenty years. No Marlovan, Hadand included, ever gave the queen much in the way of respect or consideration. They conducted the business of the kingdom around her, as if she were furniture. Hadand can't bring herself to be put in that situation. Deposited in another kingdom whose customs she doesn't understand, ruler in name but never in fact, always an outsider.
Hadand knows she won't refuse, if the king asks it of her. She doesn't think he'd ever order it, but he'll ask, along with other options that won't benefit the kingdom nearly as much. Staying in Iasca Leror won't be included in her list of options. Hadand left here would be a rallying point for strife and bickering among all the Jarls, a carefully planned royal betrothal made decades ago set aside in favor of the heir's obsession with a pretty face. Her sense of duty is too strong to say no, so she has to be out of the palace before the question is posed.
She loves the palace and Choread Hesea, raised in the royal nursery after being fostered into her betrothed's family at age two. It was never just duty. Aldren has taken her home from her along with the position she's worked for all her life. He won't take the rest of her choices from her.
Hadand writes a letter to her mother first of all, in code and handed to Tesar for personal delivery. She packs very little, hides as many weapons on her person as she can manage, and, in equal measures desperation and cold deliberation, seizes the first opportunity for escape she comes across.
Her younger brother was smuggled out of the kingdom on a ship over six years ago, and it seems to be Hadand's turn for the same. She lets a wave of guilt and regret at the thought of her mother, now childless, wash over her. Then she sets it aside for another day. Right now, she has to figure out what comes next.
“I will marry Joret, and you’ll get an honorable treaty,” he said, having planned that much, and practiced it over and over to get it out in one piece, with no tremor.
She gasped. "What?”
“Marry. Joret. You and I. Go to Father together. You marry a p-p-prince. Trade. Alliance. All with honor.” He got that out with utter conviction—there was no going back, not now. He’d promised Joret.
"Have you, uh, seen her?” Hadand groped wildly for the real world, which seemed to have slipped sideways, leaving her in a terrible dream.
--
The week or two that follow are like a bad dream continued. None of it is real, somehow, until she sees Joret at Aldren's side in front of the whole city. Joret is as unwilling to take Hadand's place as hlinlaef, the heir's betrothed, as Hadand was to give it up. It was her duty. And her home, of course. And her honor, she supposes. She was going to outrank every woman in the kingdom, and she's trained all her life for it. If Hadand has to leave her responsibilities to anyone else, someone she loves and trusts like a sister is obviously best, but...
But trouble seeks out Joret, lured in by her beauty. Hadand thinks she'd be hard-put to find a single man in the kingdom, at least among those whose interests run toward women, who isn't attracted to Joret.
None of that is left to her, and she's seen what Queen Wisthia's life was like every day for the past twenty years. No Marlovan, Hadand included, ever gave the queen much in the way of respect or consideration. They conducted the business of the kingdom around her, as if she were furniture. Hadand can't bring herself to be put in that situation. Deposited in another kingdom whose customs she doesn't understand, ruler in name but never in fact, always an outsider.
Hadand knows she won't refuse, if the king asks it of her. She doesn't think he'd ever order it, but he'll ask, along with other options that won't benefit the kingdom nearly as much. Staying in Iasca Leror won't be included in her list of options. Hadand left here would be a rallying point for strife and bickering among all the Jarls, a carefully planned royal betrothal made decades ago set aside in favor of the heir's obsession with a pretty face. Her sense of duty is too strong to say no, so she has to be out of the palace before the question is posed.
She loves the palace and Choread Hesea, raised in the royal nursery after being fostered into her betrothed's family at age two. It was never just duty. Aldren has taken her home from her along with the position she's worked for all her life. He won't take the rest of her choices from her.
Hadand writes a letter to her mother first of all, in code and handed to Tesar for personal delivery. She packs very little, hides as many weapons on her person as she can manage, and, in equal measures desperation and cold deliberation, seizes the first opportunity for escape she comes across.
Her younger brother was smuggled out of the kingdom on a ship over six years ago, and it seems to be Hadand's turn for the same. She lets a wave of guilt and regret at the thought of her mother, now childless, wash over her. Then she sets it aside for another day. Right now, she has to figure out what comes next.
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With a breath of relief, Arthur lowered his arms when she saw she let down her weapon. He gave a weak smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Fruit when picked from anywhere will grow to a great height with the right type of soil. The magical grounds where I come from will allow that to happen I’m certain.”
There was certainly a lot of enchanted dwellings where he lived in the clouds. The property alone contained enough magic within the clouds themselves to create a fertile like ground and withstand a whole castle. It was miraculous for anyone to come see themselves.
When she brought up the prospect of trading though, that definitely seemed like a fair enough thought. Usually he’d be nervous about approach people in general due to what people usually though of giants and he always wanted to avoid the conflict first. It was pretty clear that he was particularly nervous and shy around folks even those so small. He let out an “oh” as she asked if he could take her way from here.
Arthur slowly bend down on one knee for her, lowering himself for her as he placed his one hand on the ground. Leaning forward so she could see his face better, his gentle brown eyes gazed toward her. With a closer inspection Arthur was a bit worn but seemed to have shy disposition as he spoke toward her, “I-I don’t mind but, a-are you sure… I mean,” he looked down in dismay, “Not many folks a-are fond of me.”
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Hadand pursed her lips when he asked if she was sure. She wasn't sure of anything anymore. Her whole world had shifted out from under her. "I need to get out of the kingdom. Quickly and quietly, without too much of anyone's attention, but I wasn't sure I could afford to feed my horse if I took her. I left her where I knew she'd be cared for. I'll go to the marketplace in Marlo-Vayir and bring back fruit for you."
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She looks up at Arthur with only a little trepidation, then reaches behind her to replace the arrow in its quiver. She slings her bow over one shoulder and climbs easily into his palm. "Eastward, and you should probably set me down at the edge of the woods to let me walk from there. Once we get out onto the open plains, you'd be at risk from the jarl's Riders."
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Looking down toward the space in his pocket, then back to her, "Would you like to stay in my pocket while we adventure there, might be more comfortable for you then my hand."
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Hadand considers for a moment, weighing the idea of confinement against the possibility of being dropped. After a pause, she agrees, "Alright. You can put me in your pocket."
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Once Hadand confirmed she was alright with it. Arthur gently scooped her into his palm, carefully lifting her up as he cupped his other hand around. Making sure that she knew he would keep her safe from falling. Opening up his pocket for her as he held out his palm for her to climb inside the soft cotton interior, “It should be comfortable there, I only hope my heart beat isn't too loud for you.”
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His concern for her ears startled a laugh out of her, short but very sincere. "I'm certain it won't be louder than a hall full of Marlovans drumming, like I listen to every Restday."
Listened to, she supposed. Past tense. She was leaving, which meant no more Restday drums with songs detailing Marlovan history. She sobered, but tried not to let her dismay at the reminder show on her face.
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Arthur was always told since he was a kid to be sensitive and kind to things smaller than him. And if they do not like you just avoid them. He practiced this even since his family's passing and treated those with kindness as best as he could, making him all the more the gentle giant. Arthur gave a soft chuckle as Hadand settled into his pocket at the mention of the drums every restday.
"Oh my, I can only imagine such noise," Arthur than started on their journey through the fields, occasionally looking down into the pocket so he could meet her gaze, "I'm mostly used to the animal noises we have up in the clouds, but they're not very troublesome. I find it somewhat soothing to hear them actually."
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This wasn't a bedroll in a tent, the only previous times she'd been in anything resembling a pocket. It would have taken an earthquake to shake that.
"You're accustomed to quiet, then? We aren't a quiet people, at least not outside of our archives or preparing an ambush." Sorry if that seems threatening, but her own reaction upon seeing Arthur should be some indication of Marlovan weapons use.
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Although the giant didn't mention it, but he would sometimes lock up and be scared of violent noises, most notably thunder like noises. It was how his parents died after all, but he didn't want to create trouble so he quietly pressed onward for her.
Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like picking it back up.
Everything is foreign to her, and Hadand is struggling not to admit to herself how daunting it is to leave Iasca Leror. She wasn't supposed to. Queens stay home. Marlovans are insular. Even her Sartoran speech, which is understood by most of the world, is quaint and out of date by standards elsewhere, a couple generations old. She's still not quite sure who she is without her own culture and traditions.
Is fine <3
For a while since Arthur was young he was trained to focus on healing others, particularly with dreams and small wounds through music. It's all he knew before they passed on, he sadly doesn't know much else other than that. "And we're the first sort, a lot of the cloud giants don't want to be part of any affairs we'd rather heal who needs us and move on with our own lives. I think my parents would only go down if others requested help and bargain if need be, I know they were more social than some of the others."
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"And I can't imagine living alone. I grew up in a palace, in the middle of a city, and there were always other people around. I have to find somewhere to go next."
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At the very least Arthur knew healing with certain items and spells but he's not very confident in it. But it was his own problems of self-doubt that was setting him back unfortunately. With no one there to guide him it was hard to be confident in his abilities just yet. Giving a breath, "I-I don't know if I'll be ever as good as my parents... They passed on sadly before they could teach me any more of that..."
Arthur gave a weak smile at that, "Our race is almost gone, I don't think I've seen another like me in a long time. I've also never been around that many humans myself, but I worry on how other perceive me considering..."
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But her face tightened with sympathy, though Arthur couldn't see it, when he continued. "I've lost my people too now, but not through death. Were you and your parents very close? I love my mother, and my aunt, but my father was distant."
She wasn't shocked to hear that cloud giants are almost gone, in spite of talking to one. "Most races other than humans are gone. It's why I was so surprised to see you."
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Looking down, oh but there wasn't a day that had gone by where Arthur's heart still ached from witnessing his parents death. "Y-Yeah... I... I miss them every day... I-I wish I was able to save them when they..."
Growing quiet, Arthur shivered, trying to fight the tears that stung his eyes at the mere memory of the event.
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The talk of dreams and magic was incredibly interesting, and Hadand itched to ask more, after all her years of thwarted study. She laid that aside for now, though. Some things mattered more.
"I'm sorry for your loss." Hadand said quietly. "I haven't seen my mother in seven years, and my brother in longer than that. My aunt, who raised me, was killed this year, along with several others in my family."
She hesitated before adding, "I put the kingdom first. I held it together, but I couldn't save anyone else."
It might be a mistake, revealing that much about herself, but at least it was to someone who clearly rarely interacted with humans.
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Gives a weak smile, "I guess it's different, I'm not really anyone important after all, just a giant..."
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"You didn't spend your whole life told you had to be strong, with no choice in the matter. You're hurting for good reason." Her voice was calm but understanding. Subtle sympathy and no pity attached to it.
"I'm no one important anymore either," Hadand said, with the vague sinking sense of guilt at leaving. "I left, and I'm not going back."