How Familiar - 7. Soren - Misfortune

Soren Alae

"There hasn't been a war for hundreds of years," King Darius muttered, his longaxe laying by his side as he slurped from his soup bowl. "Eodanira hasn't seen it in hundreds more. Only Alaeyas."

"Well, you know how those Zyrians are," Queen Tyffane drank from her wine cup. She was partial to the dry white stuff from the northern Iralia vineyards, but Soren thought it was awful. "Every time there's a war, they're the ones causing it."

Soren did not reply, deep in thought. Those two Zyrian boys crashed his wedding to Princess - no, Queen Charlotte. Kaden warned Eodanira to stay out of Alaeyas, whereas Armyn was all too eager for bloodshed. It did seem as though they caused destruction and pain wherever they went. We need to eliminate them for good. None of them deserve to live. End it once and for all!

"Shall we support Iralia, then?" General Viktor asked from a few seats down. He was a burly and hairy man, with green eyes and white hair. "We have always been allies with Queen Ninon. Perhaps we can wipe out the Alaeyan threat altogether."

"Zyrian," Soren snapped at him, reminding him that Alaeyas was not the true enemy. It was the demons who possessed it that were evil. "The Zyrian threat."

"My apologies, my Prince," Viktor realised his mistake and bowed his head. He was a man of discipline. "My King, I should say."

"King," Soren forgave him quickly and smiled. "It never stops sounding strange to me. I'm the King of a country I haven't seen since the day I was born."

"Are you sure you want to do that? Align ourselves with that crazy Queen?" Charlotte asked with a sickly sweet voice. She wore a glamorous choker around her white neck with a colossal emerald clasped in a golden brace. A wedding gift sent by Queen Layla of Ulisse. "Queen Ninon is not the woman you once knew. She has gone mad. Voices command her to see enemies everywhere."

"Then what do you suggest?" King Darius asked, stroking his blond beard. It was greying, but he still retained his handsomeness.

"Ninon has lost Prince Ronan," Queen Tyffane added, using her fork to pick at a cube of cheese. "Even if she beats us to that throne, she has nobody to place on it, as Ronan and Melicent never married. Iralia has the strongest militia in all of Ytia. We need to take advantage of that. Alaeyas may have lost its sting since it became a collectivist country, but there are five wasps with knowledge of the ancient arts who can turn the tide of battle far too easily."

"There is more than one way to win a throne," Soren reminded them, bitterly remembering what happened to his parents. "Kai didn't play by the rules of Ytia when he killed my parents. He usurped the throne by way of conquest. Who is to say Queen Ninon will not do the same and merge Alaeyas with her own country? She does not need my brother, else she would not leave him locked in his bedchamber." Ronan is gone now, he thought privately. Rescued by a traitor from the Iralian Palace. I hope to the Goddess he makes it to Ulisse.

"That will not happen," Queen Tyffane shook her head. "That cannot happen. If Iralia takes Alaeyas, how long before Queen Ninon comes for us? We share most of our borders with Iralia and Alaeyas. We would be sitting ducks if she ever decided to invade us. No, we have the rightful King and Queen of Alaeyas sitting at this table. We will ally ourselves with the nobles of Alaeyas and fight the enemy from within."

"And what do you think Queen Ninon will make of that?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow. She was so beautiful, and he loved how clever she was. "Do you believe she will let us be when I sit the throne? I will always be on good terms with Eodanira and Ulisse, mother, but Ninon is different. Soren and I, and our children..." she put a hand upon her belly. "We would never be safe from her."

"Her heart desires vengeance more than she desires the throne," younger Prince Torri, fourteen years of age, piped up from next to his big sister. "Maybe she will be satisfied with the death of the Zyrians and leave the throne to Charlotte?"

"You might be right," Viktor grinned at the youngster, whose fair skin blushed pink behind the white-gold locks of hair that framed his face. "It is always best to seek friends rather than enemies; particularly one as powerful as Iralia."

"There will be so many deaths," Soren sighed, toying with his soup and letting it drip from his spoon. "People and Familiars will die for Charlotte and me to sit the throne; even if we ally ourselves with Ilaria."

"Oh, there will be severe casualties no matter what happens," Viktor brushed his white locks back over his head. "That is the nature of war. But better Iralia suffers those casualties than Eodanira, wouldn't you say?"

"I mean in Alaeyas," Soren was getting annoyed with him. He seemed to forget who Soren was and everything that had happened to him. "What kind of King would I be if I let my countryfolk die by the thousands?"

"The kind of King who keeps his little mouth shut and lets his Queen decide what to do," Queen Tyffane reminded him gruffly. "You forget yourself sometimes, young King. Charlotte and I will make the decisions. Not you. Not Darius. Not Torri. Not Viktor."

Soren and Darius looked at each other briefly before both lowered their heads. In Ytia, especially the old-fashioned Eodanira, women were the dominant sex. For every male born, there were between two and three females. Women created life as the Goddess did so long ago, and Familiars were passed down from mother to child. It was the job of men, particularly Princes and Kings, to provide heirs for their wives and to protect their family. Soren may have been the heir of Alaeyas - or Ronan or Orion - but that did not mean he was the one who would sit on the throne once they retook the country. It would pass to Charlotte - or whomever the young King married once his mother died. It would have been up to Palona to marry her son to a suitable woman who would become Queen, but she was slaughtered by that beast before he got to know her.

"What of Odesh?" Charlotte asked suddenly. "Would Erika be interested in lending aid to our cause?"

"Erika? Pfft," Tyffane waved her hand as if to brush the notion aside. "Odesh is even more isolated from the rest of Ytia than Ulisse is! She did not get an Alaeyan Prince following Palona and Jaiden's deaths, and she has held it against the rest of the continent ever since. We would have more luck asking Kai of Zyria nicely for the Alaeyan throne."

"What about Ulisse?" Charlotte was intent on building numbers for the invasion she was keen on, it seemed. "Their Krakens alone can--"

"We are invading beyond just the Alaeyan river! What good are the Krakens out of water?" Her mother interrupted, scowling at her. "You're young and impatient. When Queen Ninon invades Alaeyas, there will be enough bloodshed without bringing Ulisse into the fold. Trust me on that, sweetling. We have a good relationship with Queen Layla, in spite of her flaws. She will be a valuable ally for the aftermath of whatever wars fought in Alaeyas, but we cannot rely on her to win us the throne. Ulisse remains near impenetrable by the power of the Krakens of the Lisse family, but they have no army. Few ships. They are a sea-faring folk and the Alaeyan Palace is in the south of the country, hundreds of miles from any body of water."

Soren moved his hand under the table and found Charlotte's, their fingers entwining. We are but children playing at war. Playing at a game we don't understand the rules of yet. I love you, Charlotte. With my heart and soul. We will be the pair that repairs and unites Alaeyas for good! We will go down in history as those who saved the country my mother died defending!

"Would you happen to know where Prince Ronan has gone?" Tyffane asked him, her stern, moss-green eyes burning into him as she sipped from her goblet. "You can see through the eyes of his Pegasus, can you not?"

"It's Iralia," Soren replied as bluntly as he dared. "My Queen, I have only travelled through Iralia en route to Ulisse and home again. I am no expert! All I see through Timi's eyes is the Iralian countryside. The woman escorting Ronan does well to keep them hidden."

"Iralia is a big country," Viktor piped up. "From the north coast down to our border. What colour of skin are the people nearby?"

"The two children with them are amber-skinned with dark hair," Soren shrugged and turned his eyes back to his soup. He'd lost his appetite by now. "I am yet to see anyone else when I spy, but it takes a lot from me to spy too often. Ronan seems happy, though, but he does not tell me where he goes. The woman keeps him silent."

In truth, he knew his brother was heading north to Ulisse to reunite at long last with Orion. Yet, I'm stuck down here being a King. While those two run to each other, I have the responsibility of stabilising an entire country! But he did not tell Queen Tyffane that. It might damage their relationship with Queen Layla, and Soren was fond of the merry Queen of Ulisse and her pretty daughters, even with their strangely long ears, large eyes and webbed hands and feet. If Soren were to speak of the plot to bring Ronan to Ulisse, it might mean he would never see Orion again, and worse, to never meet Ronan.

"I don't see the problem, though!" Soren added to his defence, pushing his bowl from him and kissing the spoon, as was Eodaniran custom. Ridiculous, but Eodanira was built on traditions. "Without Ronan, Queen Ninon is going to do most of the work for us when she invades Alaeyas to avenge my father. I say we let her, and that way we only need to pick off those who remain. Zyrian or Iralian; it does not matter." He did not thoroughly believe in his words. Truly, the thought of crushing the remnants of an Alaeyan army made him sick, but both Queens were intent on this invasion happening.

"You say too much, that's your problem," Tyffane shut him down, but a smile crossed her normally stoic lips. "But you speak sense sometimes. You are certainly not the fool your mother was, young King!"

"So, what is to be done? What have you decided upon?" Darius asked her, doing the same with his spoon and pushing the bowl away from him. He'd finished three full bowls. No wonder he was getting fatter, but rather than admit so, he often accused the servants of shrinking his clothes.

"Our priestesses have been communing with the Goddess," Tyffane, in the chair higher than anyone else's, told him curtly. "They are getting close to understanding the ancient magics. Soon, we shall be able to utilise, nullify and counter them, they assure me. When we can walk into the Alaeyan throne room and not be wiped out by those terrible demons, we will take the throne for Queen Charlotte. It matters not whether the person sitting there is Kai of Zyria, the nobles of Alaeyas or Queen Ninon. If that mad mare up north believes she can rob my daughter of her rightful claim to Alaeyas, she can think again with her head on a spike."

That was enough for Soren. Vengeance he wanted more than anything - perhaps even more than he wanted to sit the throne, but he was tired of the talk of violence and death. Surely it did not have to be so... grisly. But he was the King of Alaeyas, he knew. He had responsibilities. Tonight, though, those responsibilities can bloody well wait. If we're lucky, Queen Ninon will fall from her Griffin and die as she conquers those Zyrian beasts.

"I beg your leave," Soren looked to Queen Tyffane, whose eyes studied him. "I am tired and would like to be with Vyma."

"I'm no longer your Queen," Tyffane replied, her eyes shifting to Charlotte. "She is the one you serve now."

"My love," Soren forced a smile, angered by the Eodaniran Queen's constant scoldings as he looked to Charlotte and squeezed her hand. She was as beautiful as the day they wed. Her white-gold locks tumbled around her shoulders and fell to the small of her back, and her eyes glittered like emeralds. They seemed to glow when she wore the choker gifted by the Queen of Ulisse. Would that I could afford such a gift, he thought sadly. No jewel in the world is enough to show my love.

"My what?" Tyffane interrupted his thoughts.

"My Queen!" Soren snapped at Tyffane and hit the table with his fist, causing her to leer at him dangerously as he turned his attention back to Charlotte. The traditions were driving him mad! "Yes, you are my Queen, but you are also my love! Do you give me leave to go?"

"Of course you can," Charlotte seemed as awkward as he was about the way their dynamic shifted since their wedding. It wasn't a pleasant shift. Certainly, when they were younger, Charlotte called the shots officially, but they were otherwise like any other couple. Now that Charlotte was the uncrowned Queen of Alaeyas, Tyffane was hammering tradition down on them, making very sure each one knew their place. "I'll see you soon. I have more to talk about with my parents."

"Thank you," Soren smiled and bowed his head, but smiling and bowing were the last things he wanted to do. This is my bride. My love. Surely I don't need to be completely subservient to her now that we're wed? "Have a great night, everyone. Your Majesty," he bowed his head at Tyffane as well, who nodded at him.

Only a few weeks ago, Soren was fifteen and so happy in the Palace. Rules and order dominated Eodanira, but he had freedom. He and Charlotte would have entire days to themselves. They would go on picnics, they would travel to the great glaciers of the south and skate together on frozen lakes. They were in love. Why did that have to change because Charlotte is inheriting the throne my mother sat on? It's ludicrous! If anything, I should be the one to inherit the throne! Palona was my mother after all. It can change, he told himself, angrily stomping his way back to the lavish bedchamber he shared with his Queen. When we're in Alaeyas, we'll do it our way. That painful bitch Tyffane can't tell us how to run the country once we've won it. Charlotte isn't the same as her mother, after all.

Why don't we go for a ride? Vyma asked, sensing his Human's negative emotions. We can soar the skies in the gentle snowfall!

I need to hit something, Soren grumbled, comforted by the sweet, loving communication from his Familiar. Why don't we go and do some sword practice?

I was watching and listening, Vyma replied. She should not be so hard on you. You're doing the best you can.

I just don't see why one minute I'm as a son to her, and the next I'm a glorified slave for her daughter! Soren vented angrily, keeping his head down as he passed servants who did not engage with him. Servants in the Eodaniran Palace were expected to greet the Queen and Princesses, but Soren was a boy, so the law did not apply to him. She's driving me crazy. I can't wait until Charlotte and I are in Alaeyas as its Queen and King, and we can just be together.

In some ways she's right, you know, Vyma cautiously reminded him, and anger flashed through Soren. You will have a lot of responsibilities as King. Our mother did not fulfil her duties as Queen, and she paid the price for it--

You do not talk about our mother! Soren flared, turning on his heel and going in the opposite direction. In fact, do not speak to me at all. I would train without you.

He intended to find and snuggle with Vyma, but now he was mad with Vyma as well. At least Vyma obeyed him and remained silent. I just want to go back to when things were easy! I wish I never turned sixteen. I want to go back to when Charlotte and I played in the warm Ulisse ocean with Orion and Zeke. I want to go back to when Orion and Zeke saw snow in the Eodaniran Palace for the first time. I miss being free. I miss being happy. Angry at his situation and feeling helpless to change it, he decided to take his anger out on any squires or soldiers in the battle yard. He was sharp and fast with a sword, having trained with Charlotte since both were young. He was better at it than her, but he let her win on occasion. She knew that, but she would always smile from ear to ear when he allowed her to win and kiss him with those soft, pink lips of hers.

"Hello, Soren!" Tira, the woman in charge of training recruits, greeted him amiably. "Oh, that's King Soren now, eh?"

"I like Soren," he replied, trying his best to calm down.

It was freezing outside. Snow blanketed what would have been finely cut grass, not even an inch thick, but it fell slowly from the grey sky above. Soren wished he remembered to bring his coat and cloak with him and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Alright then Soren, are you here to get your ass kicked?" Tira cocked her head at him and raised her eyebrows, and it almost seemed as though her woolly goat did the same. "By a weapon, not the weather. Go and get a jacket before you freeze!"

"Fuck that," Soren was too mad to listen to reason, and he looked at the yard filled with recruits between the ages of five and eighteen. Tira trained them, a master in swordplay. "I want to fight."

"Don't be so vulgar. It really gets the sand in my twat," Tira raised her eyebrows in jest, and he couldn't help but let out a giggle. She was a masculine woman to be sure. A big, brawny woman, not unattractive by any means, but by no means a typical Eodaniran beauty. Tira had green eyes and blonde hair like many of Eodanira's citizens, but she was muscular and strong, her white-gold curls cut short and scars across her face, a great big purple one that went from the top of her left eye to the corner of her mouth. "Get your jacket. I won't let you out here without one."

"I'm the King of Alaeyas!" He reminded her, mostly to see how she reacted. She reacted how he expected.

"Exactly. I can't have you freezing your tits off. Go and get a jacket and a training sword and we'll see what we can do with you," Tira bossed him around like she bossed everyone about - even Prince Torri and young Princess Ashi. She and Elisa - the Queen's own retainer - had that privilege. Nobody else did.

Soren could use a challenge. He was good with a broadsword and quick with a light pine shield. It made him strong and lean. Prince Torri had no talent for swords, however. He was all knees and elbows and often ate the dirt underneath. Princess Ashi was a spitfire. She was no more talented than her brother, but she never quit. No matter how many times Soren, Tira or any of the other students knocked her down, she always came back for more punishment. Charlotte was the same way. She wasn't a dangerous warrior, but she was more than capable of defending herself. Where Tyffane was the Queen of Eodanira and Charlotte was the future Queen of Alaeyas, Tira was the Queen of the swordyard. It was her domain. She trained the Royal Family with no more care than she trained the children of nobles and commons alike. There was no crying in Tira's swordyard, and Soren finally did as she commanded him, taking an unsightly grey woollen pullover to keep himself warm.

"While we're young, Your Majesty!" Tira teased him, spinning the wooden training sword in her grip. "What are you in the mood for? Shall I beat you bloody or do you intend to duel with one of my pupils?"

"I don't really care," Soren muttered bitterly, still angered by the way he'd been forced to adapt to Queen Tyffane's new rules in the last few weeks. "I just want to fight."

"Well, if it's the same to you, I don't need you picking on my students. I shall be your opponent!" Tira laughed heartily and drank deeply from a flagon of wine she kept handy. Has she ever taught someone how to fight while she was sober? Has she ever fought while sober? Soren didn't think so. She was always sucking down wines and ciders like they were the water of life. "Come, young King! Shall we spar with wood or shall we spar with armour and sword?"

"Sword!" Soren decided. A lesson in getting his backside spanked by this insolent woman and her bloody wooden weapons was not what he intended to assuage his fury. He wanted to fight. At once, he saw Tyffane's stupid white face on this huge woman's body. I'm not just a claim to a foreign throne for your daughter. I'm every bit her equal!

"You be careful what you wish for, little red-head!" Tira grabbed him roughly by the wrist and lead him towards the storeroom.

Wooden swords of many different sizes littered the shelves and benches, and Soren grinned. If Tyffane could see the chaos in this place, she'd surely die of shock. Order and rules were important to her, so much so that she was prone to breathing too rapidly if things were too chaotic. At the end, though, armoured breastplates and heavy steel swords were much more appropriately kept, shut away in a cupboard at the end of the room with only Tira holding the key to the lock. Soren had his own blade in this safe. It looked much the same as any other broadsword, but it had an elegant, golden handle with sapphires studded inside the golden grip. Charlotte, Torri, Ashi, Darius and Tyffane's personal blades were studded with emeralds.

"Alright, young King of Alaeyas," Tira teased him once they'd suited up and selected their weapons. "Why don't you teach me what an Alaeyan King is capable of?"

Soren took little time in lunging at her. As though she knew what he wanted, Tira elected mostly to parry his blows with quick, clever precision. Many of the young students of hers stopped their sparring and began to watch the Alaeyan King take on their mistress. Their swords clanged over and over, and the song they made was beautiful. Soren felt his frustration with his current situation leave his body with every swing of his blade, but he was not the superior fighter. He never stood a chance against Tira, who had dedicated her life to swordplay. Still, he did manage to ring his blade against her steel body plate every one time for the three she landed on his, which was an achievement for anyone who practised combat against her. Charlotte was yet to ring a blow against Tira. The woman, in spite of her monstrous size, moved with the speed of a cat while her goat Familiar bleated support in the background.

"Ouch!" Tira gasped as Soren's blade slipped and cut deeply at her forearm. "Nng! You got me!" She panted as blood trickled from her wound, freezing in the snow below and turning it red.

"Shit!" Soren did not mean to hurt her. The aim of the sparring match was to hit your opponent's armour, but he'd accidentally opened her arm up, and he was frozen in shock as blood soaked his blade. He must have nicked one of the arteries.

"All good, little King!" Tira winced in pain, using the hem of her grey tunic to wrap the cut and it quickly turned red. "Go and fetch a medic for me. Quick!"

"Oh! Yes!" Soren snapped out of his daze and, trembling, ran back into the Palace.

The sight of blood always made him uneasy and sick deep in the belly. Where the hell is the medic?

Are you okay? Vyma asked, and Soren could sense him taking flight.

I hurt Tira, he replied, covering his mouth as he saw the blood on his sword once more and remembered the gaping wound in the sword Queen's arm. I didn't mean it! I--

He rounded a corner and tripped over something, his sword flying from his bloodied hand and hitting the marble floor a few feet away. When he got up, he was alarmed at how much of Tira's blood had gotten onto his clothes and hands. How can the big woman bleed so much? He looked back to see what he had fallen over and cried out in alarm. Queen Tyffane was laying there, her green eyes lifeless and glassy, her fingers twitching. There was blood everywhere. Did I do this? Did I accidentally kill her with my sword? He was not supposed to take it beyond the swordyard. No, she was already on the ground, he decided, but there was blood everywhere. Tira's? Tyffane's? Mine, even? I don't know. It's everywhere! She's dead!

"What the hell have you done?" General Viktor was the first to come across the gory scene, his white tiger growling by his side. "You killed the Queen?"

"No!" Soren looked at him in dismay and shook his head. "I found her like this!"

"Her blood is all over you!" Viktor yelled at the top of his booming voice. "That is your sword, is it not? What do you have to say for yourself? Guards!"

"I didn't!" Soren babbled. He was going mad with confusion and fear. He trembled and retched, vomiting on the floor. "I... I! Tira! I...!"

"Take him into custody!" Viktor commanded the rapidly approaching guards. "He murdered our Queen!"

Soren took a step back and slipped in the pool of blood on the floor, falling and hitting his head on the hard marble. Everything went black.