Thread: Blood of the Fae (Alvis & Xana)

Etarlm smiled out at the rest of the Middle Court. It was time once again, so short a time as well, only a mere three of the human decades. The young Sidhe woman was in tears, and understandably so. She had made only one misstep, but it was enough to level her in the lowest regard of the overseer of the court, and by the decree of the Queen of Air and Darkness, she was to be banished. Etarlm watched as the woman was given the last of her treatments, a sliver of cold iron under her skin. She was bound, and gagged to prevent the scream from offending the ears of the Court. They simply could not understand why she would seek to offend them so! After all, she had known the risks of being a member of the court! This was one of them. Why she couldn't just accept the punishment and move on, he'd never know. But finally, the sliver was in her, the wound treated. She was now stripped of much of her power, left only with her mind, and her beauty to make her mark upon the realm of man. And it was his task to bring her to that realm. The Ways were empty, as they should be. No one would admit to witnessing the banishment of a lower noble. The woman fixed Etarlm with a look, pleading. He only smiled. Is there no way that you could be swayed to not do this to me? She begged. You are without power and standing in even the Middle Court. I was sent from the Highest Court, by the Queen of Air and Darkness herself. What could you possibly offer me that I could not gain better elsewhere? He replied calmly. She burst into more tears as he half dragged her to the exit point that would land them in the forests within the realm of Man. The forests lacked the feel of age and wonder that those within the Ways did, but even so, this Spirit Wood was as close as he'd found. He shoved the woman into the trees, and bade her to run, lest he take offence at her presence. She was still weeping as she fled. He smiled. She was running away from the kingdom that would take her as a bride, which would only expose her to more dangerous things. If she were to be found by any of the local bandit clans, she'd likely end up used, abused and raped. Whistling, he started to explore the area. Nothing wrong with taking his time getting home. The unearthly whistling carried easily through the trees, and the party of Men that had hunkered down exchanged glances with their leader. He was a thickly built bull of a man, called Hargrim. Not native to this land, he was a sell sword who had a reputation for hunting down the Sidhe, and bringing them in. His family had been in service to the Crown off and on for four generations. It was their task to bring in the brides. Though this time the plan was different. Hargrim was busily stuffing his ears with cotton and wax, blocking out sounds. The way that whistling sounded told him a lot, and what it said was that this Sidhe was stronger than most. He gestured for his men to do likewise, and he did a check on his gear. Sword, dagger, net, rings and gauntlets. He was ready to go. Once everyone was set, they began the advance. Etarlm could hear the sounds of approaching Men. With luck, he'd simply point them to the direction of the woman, and be on his way. They burst into his clearing, and before he could speak, he could feel the pulse of Cold Iron on them, and he half staggered away. A throwing ring arced at him, made to stun, not kill, and he threw up a hand, power flowing through him to repel the metal. It flew on, and crashed into his head, sending him stumbling. A burn on his forehead spoke of the metal. Cold Iron. The Bane. That which was most inimical to his kind. He glared at the oncoming men, one of them staggering back as though struck, another swaying on his feet, blood pouring from his tear ducts as he drew a knife and stabbed one of his companions. Hargrim cast his net, and punched the frenzied man, laying him out on the ground. Etarlm fell under the burning fibres of the net. Hargrim approached the fallen Sidhe. Rank man! You dare to assault one such as I? Etarlm roared. Even under the net, the voice sent most of his party stumbling away. Hargrim crouched beside him, and rolled up a sleeve, showing the Sidhe the tattoo that was there. Etarlm blanched. I am a member of the Cold Iron Warriors. I dare as I please with your kind. And you are coming back with us to the Kingdom. Hargrim told him. You take brides! What use am I to you? There is no prince this generation. The eldest daughter is taking the throne. And you are to be hers, after you are bound. As he spoke the last, he withdrew five charms. No! I will not be bound by you! I swear this, release me, or know the full force of my wrath! Bound, you shall have no wrath at all. Hargrim began to chant, and moved the first charm to the Sidhe man. His bonds hurt. And the plate over his mouth had prevented him from exhorting any to his aid. Etarlm was dragged through the streets of the capital in the dark of night, and his mind seethed with rage. Being brought into the palace, he was deposited on the floor of the throne room. The king and his wife looked down at the fallen form. Excellent work Hargrim! You shall be rewarded. Now, send for my daughter, she should meet her husband. The king announced. Pulling himself to his knees, Etarlm glared at the human monarch.