Thread: Spoils of War (DareToDream and Nightingale)

It should have been easy to ignore her, to pull the horse from the edge of the field and ride off without another thought, and yetit wasnt. Something held the High Knight in place, something that reached up from the ground with invisible tendrils that wrapped around his horse and his body, holding them fast where they stood. The moment was surreal as the world around Marcus faded from view and he focused on one thing only the woman from Greymere. He remembered her vividly, from the way shed leaned against the support beam in camp to the track of her eyes as she watched him watching her. Of course, Marcus was a man as well as knight and he also remembered the shapeliness of her womanly figure, the smile that bewitched, and the beauty that shone. It was a deadly combination, in more ways then one woman or not, she was a Greymere, his sworn enemy. To trust her was to court death, of this he had no doubt, but he still couldnt take his eyes off her. When she looked up, a light breeze blew across his face but he held steady, his gaze meeting hers from across the way. Her eyes mesmerized him and the way she looked at himit was like she looked inside him, saw pieces of his soul that no one had ever seen. He had no defense for it, no way to shield himself from her sight, and it drew a shiver from his strong frame. The spell was broken when the womans companion rose to his feet, his movement fluid, steady and sure, drawing Marcuss gaze. They were the movements of a trained soldier, one with experience and skill, and the High Knight was on instant alert, his gaze moving now, wondering if he and his soldiers had entered a trap. The search was rapid, his gaze touching on every object in sight, looking for additional troops, archers, anything that could be a threat but when he didnt find any he turned back to the field. His men had caught his alertness though and moved their horses to the edge of the field also, looking where he looked. Damnations! spat the man on his left, his voice full of deadly venom. Greymere pigs here? How dare they tread where we can see them! The mans hand dropped to his scabbard and gripped the hilt of his sword, slowly drawing it out. The High Knights head snapped to the side and his eyes narrowed. Stop! he said, the words hissed in equal anger. The cavalryman looked at him, his eyes widening. We will not draw arms in Aurelian unless drawn upon first. Pull your horse back now and give me space. Both of you he added, glancing to his right also. Both soldiers gave curt nods, obeying the High Knights commands, and slowly withdrew to a safe distance, staying on alert for any danger. The minute they were gone, Marcus focused on the woman and the man that was with her. He was older than her, but still wearing the colors of the Greymere army no doubt a bodyguard for the woman. That meant she was someone of importance in Greymere, perhaps a wife or daughter of a councilman or some other sort of nobility. As he watched her begin to walk towards him, her steps quickly taking her across the green grass, his mind whirled. Was he really going to allow thisthisenemy to approach him in the open like this? If word reached the High Lord, it would not be a pretty sight. Marcus considered this but discarded it immediately he was tired of war and tired of bloodshed. It was time to engage the enemy in a war of words, not swords. Energy thrummed through his body as the woman and her guard came to a stop in front of him, her hand reaching out to lightly stroke the muzzle of his horse. She began to talk immediately, her words flowing effortlessly on a voice that was melodic and light. He watched her, absorbing it all while keeping one eye on the soldier at the same time. Bold he might be, taking this first step against his High Lords wishes, but he was not stupid. She talked while she stroked, her hands lightly petting the horse, which ate the attention up, and Marcus did not interrupt her. When she finally came to her question, her gaze lifting and capturing his, he gave a curt nod. Aye, milady he said in a voice that was a little gruff at first though he didnt know why. She is named Ariana, after my sister who was raped and murdered in the war between our two kingdoms. Through my horse, I retain her memory. He felt anger then, anger towards the war and anger towards her countrymen, but he tamped it down as it had no place here, in the first conversation between enemies in decades. Closing his eyes and ducking his head, he took a moment to compose himself before looking at her again. My apologies, milady I have seen too much bloodshed and lost too much in the war between our kingdoms and it colors my moods. Please forgive me. Glancing at her guard, then back at her, he smiled. I am Marcus of Narvashal, High Knight to the High Lord and those... he gave a curt nod to the men behind him are soldiers filled with hatred and prejudice towards your country. They shall remain nameless for they are not worthy of your presence. The words were harsh but true and Marcus did not take them back. They were soldiers who had also seen bloodshed and violence but all they knew was hate and hate would not bring peace. The woman of Greymere, Lady Illayna by her own words, had taken a step that no one in either kingdom had ever done so far as he knew and he would not sully that effort with rancor. It was a simple step, one that might pave the way for more, but only if taken slowly. Inclining his head towards her, he smiled. Midsummer Festival is shaping up to be a grand event this year and will last for many weeks he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as he drank in her beauty. Perhaps we will see each other again before it is all over. For now, my men and I must head back to our camp for evening meal. He gave a crisp salute to her guard and stood straight in his saddle. Sir Richard and Lady Illayna, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Perhaps our countries will one day see peace and we can meet in the street without the protection of the Festival. With a final smile and nod, he clicked his heels and slowly backed his horse away from them, his eyes never leaving hers. When he was a safe distance away, he spun the horse and signaled his men then galloped off, glancing back over his shoulder one last time. He wanted to capture that moment in his mind and memorize her face.