Thread: Winter's Kiss (Ursus Peregrinus & Candy_demon21)

Prince Nikolai Ily'ich Kostchei The cold air was bitter, and when the wind blew it cut right to the bone through the thickest clothing. Elsewhere in the valley the chill had been dry but here the mist that wreathed the castle made things seem almost damp. The breeze that ruffled the evergreens and the large, fluffy flakes of snow that began to swirl down from the sky only reinforced the creeping sensation that this was not a human place. No, this was a domain of wild things, or deat ones. Kolya did not reply to her questions, simply looked at her and jerked his head. If the child wished answers, she could follow him into his keep. Even when she showed her realization that the statues were former guests, those who were not hapless trespassers or thieves anyways, the Prince kept his silence. He was not given to running off at the mouth. When she rushed to his side, though, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. A gesture of comfort, snugging her against his side beneath his heavy cloak. Matching his stride to her shorter steps, he led her up the dozen broad steps and pushed open the door to his keep. The halls were lit by flickering lamps, and while the furnishings were beautifully carved and obviously of value, they seemed cold and empty all the same. The lamps threw a cool light, blue-white and harsh, there was no warmth to it and it affected the colours of the tapestries and paintings they passed, making them seem bleak and dark. Until they reached the great hall. There a huge hearth was set with a roaring fire. logs almost as large as Odette were stacked, burning merrily, throwing orange and yellow light dancing. The contrast to the man who was her host was marked, this was something he did for his guests, a touch of humanity. The heat from the fire drove back the cold and the damp, it was like standing in a forge, the thick granite reflecting all that warmth outwards to create a pool of summer in the midst of all this chill and ice. By the fireplace was a well padded chair, a low table near it held bottles and glasses wine and mead set out for her by some unseen hand. Another chair sat a little further from the roaring flames, a carved wooden curule chair, the dark wood glistening in the light of the flames. Sit, Odette. The words were not a request, and the Prince swept off his cloak and tossed it over the back of his chair before he sat himself. Beneath the cloak he wore black leather and thick dark wool. His clothes were not even so plush as the Mayor's. Well made, but lacking in finery. All except the sword-belt at his waist. That was broad leather and set with silver and gold, the buckle worked into a dragon's head, sapphires glittering in its eyes. From the belt hung a long sword and, on the other side, a black iron shestopyor, a six-feathered mace heavily chased with silver. The engraving was in the form of vines, silver thorns curling outwards on each of the six iron flanges. I know your mother, Odette, but I am not your father. A dry, cold laugh escaped his lips, chopped off almost before it began. I know much of your mother, and no one in this world knows more of your father than I do. Many things even you do not know, I would guess... but I can speak of what I wish and keep what secrets I wish. Have a care with me, little girl. Those blue sparks in the depths of his eyes glittered and then faded once more into blackness. I do not brook disrespect. This valley is mine, the people are mine, this custom you volunteered for reminds them of this fact. Some of those who come to visit are unworthy of my protection. I am their master, it is to me to judge them. Those I find wanting do not return. Their frozen bodies I leave in my garden, to remind myself of my duty. To warn those who come here. The Prince fell silent again, watching her. With his elbows on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingers and fell into a stillness so complete that he might have been one of his statues. Later tonight I will read the ledgers, learn what my people wish of me. Decide what my people need. On the morrow I will answer your questions. If, he raised one finger to look at her, you keep a civil tongue in your head and an obedient spirit. For now, you will speak. I have little chance for conversation or news. The ledgers tell me dry facts... I rely on my guests to tell me other things. Speak to me, of my valley. Of my people. Tell me about your life, Odette. The lives of your friends and neighbours. Tell me what YOU believe my people need. Kolya seemed vaguely exhausted by the effort of conversation and the silence fell around him again as he finished. tag