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[img]http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/prydain/images/6/6d/Spiral_Castle.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130313232148[/img]
[h3]Castle Stonereach[/h3]
12th of Gerna | 1200 AU[/center]

Thunder boomed in the distance, echoing gently throughout the rolling Erayan hills of Stormgully. For its size, Stormgully was a fairly quiet city, surrounded by little else than hills and grazing sheep. The sky was gray -- As it often was in Erayis -- and throughout the morning there had been a consistent rain, ranging from a thick fog to a drizzle.

At the gates of Stonereach, two figures returned home. One rode a tall brown diregoat, and the other, a speckled [i]horse[/i]. This was uncommon in Erayis, as horses fared particularly poorly with the hilly landscape, though the Cragmore's guest had no diregoat nor the willingness to ride one.

This guest was none other than Elouan Gracieux, while the man on the brown goat was Prince Duncan. Aside from Sofia, who could not be forced to leave, he was the only Cragmore remaining in Erayis. His father, and the rest of his younger siblblings, had headed off to the capital days ago to vote. He scoffed for a moment, thinking of their studious hours spent silently tallying together votes for an emperor, droning on and on about speeches.

On one side, the Cragmore held the body of the fox he and Elouan had spent the morning hunting, and on the other, Duncan carried a nearly-empty wineskin. "Tell me, Gracieux," The prince began, leaning back on his diregoat, "You Veletians ever have any fox hunting?" He took a swig from his wineskin and held the limp carcass up proudly, examining it for a moment before turning back to Elouan. "Would be a shame to have all that land and not have a good fox hunt every now and again, eh?"

Elouan silently sighed, barely concealing a grimace. He was not fond of Duncan's company. "I am afraid the fox hunting tradition has never caught on in Violette. Our forests are mostly owned by the Luzerne, rather than the nobility, and their hunters are more concerned with sustenance than sport." Conscious of his need to stay on the prince's good side, Elouan then added, "They're an exceptionally uninspired lot. I'll have to introduce them to the thrill of the fox hunt once I return."

Duncan grinned a winestained smile, and began to laugh a deep chortle as the gates reached the apex of their ascent and the two rode into Stonereach's court, amused by the young Gracieux's remark. Immediately, a young squire ran up to Duncan's diregoat, catching the dead fox as Duncan tossed it aside, either as if it had been rehearsed or it had been something the squire was used to.

"Boy, bring this to the leathersmith a and have him turn it into gloves for our guest to bring home." Duncan slid off of the diregoat with surprising fluidity for his size and stockiness, landing on both feet with ease. If there was a pleasant remark one could make of the man, it was that he was a good rider.

Duncan turned to meet Elouan as he dismounted, pulling off his riding gloves. He stood but a few feet over the boy, and wore a tunic made of dark red wool with purple cuffs, and a brown leather belt. Though they were finely crafted, the clothes were bound tightly around his skin and were clearly made for a much thinner man, and the colors and tightness combined with his ruddy complexion gave the prince a remarkable resemblance an overstuffed, muscular sausage.

"I expect I shall see you tonight at dinner, Elouan." Duncan said, uncorking his skin and taking down the last few mouthfuls of wine.

Elouan nodded and forced a smile, waiting until after Duncan had finished off his wine and began to depart before he left his horse for the servants to tend to. Once he had left, the young Gracieux shivered in disgust, and began to dust himself off and expect his outfit. His clothing distinguished him from the Erayans as much as his choice of steed. His thin torso was covered by a tight-fitting purple and black shirt, and his bottoms were a pair of black briches, which had been covered in dirt and grime from the hunt. He cleaned them off as best as he could before heading into the castle, to search for his love.

He made his way through Stonereach's halls, following the sound of a harp vibrating through the castle's cold, grey walls. He could practically [i]feel[/i] her already, warming the very castle with her presence. While Erayis was a foggy, rainy place, Sofia radiated with the warmth of a summer day. Whereas her confining castle was made of squat black stone and reeked of salt and goat hair, her skin was that of ivory and her smell seemed to always be the same flowers. She was an oasis of beauty in this otherwise ugly, gods-forsaken kingdom, and he could not withstand being apart from her for any longer.

As if by fate, the next corner Elouan turned was a small sitting room on one of the furthest reaches of the castle, deep into the mountainside it was built into. The walls were lined with torches, giving enough light for Elouan to see the smoke of sweet incense drifting gently towards the ceiling. The room was built for entertaining guests and discussing private matters, built deep into Stonereach's tunnels, far from the courtyard and the sun alike.

In place of arms or shields, instruments were hung on the stone walls -- Though most were traditional Erayan horns, there were collections of lutes, lyres, drums, and flutes as well. The floor was bare, save for a rug at the center of the room that was surrounded by pillows and chairs. In the smallest seat was Sofia Cragmore playing her harp as if waiting for the princeling's arrival.

Her song was not an unfamiliar one; [i]My Highland Rose[/i] was one of the region's oldest love songs. She had been singing, and though her voice was low and quiet, it was nonetheless beautiful and soft. She sang to herself, plucking the thin black harp nestled between her legs, humming in between her lines.

"My highland rose, highland rose, no matter where I roam,
I will return to the steps of my highland rose's home
My highland rose, sweet highland rose, no bonds may keep me from she,
Not the tallest mountains or deepest forests or raging churning sea."


Elouan contemplated silently as he stared at Sofia, smiling absentmindedly and losing himself in her song and her beauty. He wanted desperately to be with her, to sit and talk with his love, but her voice was so magical and her words so inspired, and he could not bear to interrupt her. He waited, until she was nearly finished, and silently grabbed one of the many lutes decorating the walls. At the beginning of the last stanza, he joined in with her, surprising her and announcing his arrival, but in a way that did not break her song. The two often practied together, and Sofia did not miss a beat when Elouan began to play.

"My highland rose, sweet highland rose, marry me tonight,
Come into my fair castle, and be my Lady wife,
Highland rose, know this now, my love for you shall die,
When highland mountains crumble and heavens fall from the sky."

As the two finished, Sofia's gaze met Elouan's, and she smiled deeply, setting her harp aside. "Hello, my lord."

Elouan gave a low bow, smirking up at Sofia all the while. "And happy greetings to you as well, my Lady".

Sofia stood up, offering her hand as Elouan placed a gentle kiss just above her knuckles. "What brings you to the chambers of Stonereach? We seldom see violets growing here."

Elouan stood, takin Sofia's hands in his own. "And what a shame for those flowers, to be so rare in the home of the sun."

Sofia smiled at Elouan, staring deeply into his eyes, which slowly drew closer to hers. As if on cue, a rustling from across the room gave way to the door opening once more, giving Elouan just enough time to almost completely spin around. It was Kurgan Black, advisor to the king, who held a scroll in his hand.

He was short and tan-skinned, with eyes encircled in darkening shades of sleeplessnes, tucked under thick grey eyebrows. His head was a balding pattern of age spots and thinning grey hair, with unpleasant gaps between his teeth hidden by a thick mustache.

"My lord." He grumbled to Elouan with a quick nod. Kurgan was well-mannered to the guest of his king  king and would always address him with respect, though brevity was hardly uncommon in Erayis, especially to foreigners.

He turned to Sofia, clearly aware of the situation at hand, pausing to let the girl stammer the beginning of her explanation before handing her the scroll.

"Your brother writes to you from the capital,"  began in his usual quiet, dry voice, "He wishes you well, and mentioned your sister's entrance in a tourney." He turned his head to Elouan, raising an eyebrow softly. "He also expressed a desire to speak with you, Lord Gracieux, when he returns." His voice held a thick Erayan accent as if he spoke through a rusting funnel, shortening consonants and vowels with the same inflection Elouan had come to expect of Veletian flower-sellers and fishmongers.

Elouan looked confused, and responded awkwardly, baffled at what the Cragmore prince could have to say to him. Kurgan's interruption of his embrace with Sofia did not register first in his mind. "I... suppose that's... good news?"

Kurgan looked at him with a stoic deadpan, nodding his head. "Of course." He gave the Veletian a firm pat on the shoulder, and turned to leave, walking silently out of the room the same way he came in.

The couple waited until Melvan had left before either of them took another breath. After they'd both calmed themselves, Elouan turned to Sofia and asked, in a slightly nervous tone, "Do you have any idea what your brother would have to say to me?"

Sofia paused, shaking her head. "Benjamin has always been a private sort. Perhaps he and your sister Victoria have discussed something in The Heartlands he wishes to discuss with you as well?"

Elouan scoffed. "I would think my sister would tell me of such a thing! And what would he have to discuss with me, if he had already spoken to Victoria in the capital? I am not interested in my sister's machinations, Sofia, only in you. I fear that Benjamin has something to say about us. And that is a most frightening fear."

The Erayan princess drew closer to him, gasping loudly. "I wouldn't let him tear us apart, Elouan. We could elope, to the North or Lointaine, or, or --"

A soft hand rested on Sofia's waist, and a finger from its opposite gently pushed against her lips, quieting her. Elouan's demeanour seemed reassurring, but if his hands hadn't been pressed against the Princess, they'd be shaking. "We don't need to run away, Sofia. And we won't. I'll do whatever I can, and then some more, to make sure that we can be together. No matter what Benjamin, or Kenten, or anyone else here or anywhere else says. I love you, Sofia, and I will not be torn apart from you."

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[sub]A collab with [@The Nexerus][/sub]
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