duty and destiny
by armond
 

 
 
Prince Cadon is the only son to King Rhys, and heir to the Glamorgan throne.
 
His duty is to marry the Princess Avila of Parasia.
 
His duty is to unite the kingdoms against the plots and schemes of the King of Arcum to the south.
 
Seems clear enough.
 
Yet Selene's destiny for him is far far different.

that the wizard king Urien was once asked by his grandson, Prince Dafyd, what he thought his greatest adventure was; whether it be capturing the Bull of Silver Hollow, the besting of the Underworld Lord Tartaros in the Riddle Game, or his victory over the fell wizard Iacobus. The king pondered a moment, and answered his most exciting adventure was traveling the lands with the prince’s grandmother, he as humble performing magician, and she as his assistant. When the young prince pressed him for the reason this was the legendary king’s greatest exploit, he stated he liked the skimpy outfit his grandmother wore during their shows. To which, the Chronicles say, his sorceress queen Morgana gave a lusty laugh.
 

 
1.

“Have enough sense to come in from the cold. You are a prince, for Selene’s sake! No one will think lesser of you for it.”

“No one but me. Best I reckon, we arrive in two hours, ladies. Then I’m buying a round of hot cocoa for every sister who loves me.” Caden said, and lowered the coach window flap.

“Buying us a round, is he? Who is he kidding?” Carme said, wrapping her blanket around her so only her blond head peeped out. “King Coel will have steaming buckets of the stuff waiting when we arrive.”

“Cami, he was joking.” Rhonwen rolled her eyes, and turned to her black-haired sister beside her. “Why do you question him so? Can’t you see he rides outside to gain the respect of his men?”

“If Father had twenty sons, I would say, fine, court the love of his men; esprit de corp and all that,” Gwyneth said. “Be he doesn't; Caden is it, our one and only, and so he hasn't the luxury to risk himself.”

Rhonwen crossed her arms. “But how can they respect him if-”

“-respect? Must they respect him to death?” Gwyneth said. “He proved his worth last spring when an Arcum pike almost spitted him in the boarder skirmishes. Someone needs to tell him to grow up and-”

“-Please don't stir things up, Gweni, we must behave,” Laelia said. “Father said this is more a diplomatic mission than our attending Avila’s ball. King Coel is sure to announce the engagement to Caden soon and-”

Her eyes widened when their coach hit a large ka-thumping boulder.

“Sor-ry princess-es!” the voice of one of the coachmen filtered through the ceiling.

Rhonwen threw open the flap and wriggled through the window, grabbing a roof railing above. The sisters saw her dangling feet and heard a muffled discussion. When she slipped back in, her freckled face was ruddy from cold.

“Whooo Hoooooo! I'm awake now!” Rhonwen said. She looked at the raised-eyebrow expressions of Carme and Laelia. “What? What did I do?”

Gwyneth thumped Rhonwen's arm. “I swear, Roni, you have less sense than Caden! What message was so important that you risked your life?”

“Aww, and I thought you didn't care,” Rhonwen grinned. “I ordered our coachman to stop apologizing for every tiny bump; it's not like he put them there.”

“Hhmmph.” Gwyneth answered. “And while you were pulling your little gymnastic stunt, did you happen to see our brother?”

Rhonwen nodded. “He rides point, of course.”

“Did he at least have his cloak over his head?” Gwyneth said.

When Rhonwen nodded, Gwyneth gave a long sigh.

“Thank Selene for small favors.”
 

2.

“The Glamorgan retinue,” Faolá¡n said, as he peered out his window. “Peachy.”

“Mew mew”

“I respectfully disagree,” he answered. “Prince Cadon does not look noble. Some familiar you are; whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Meeeeew,” the cat answered.

“Thank you for stating the obvious; you know it just might be possible for you to be on Selene's and my side.”

Faolá¡n lowered his window flap; the flickering candles steadied at the stopping of the breeze. He returned to his seat beside the oaken table stacked high with scrolls. Faolá¡n started to picked one up, but stopped to regard the window once more.

“She deserves better than him. Avila deserves...”

His fingers clasped the metallic collar that circled his neck. Then he slammed a fist on the table.

“Iacobus cannot have protected this against all opening spells. Let's try another.”

Faolá¡n unrolled a scroll, moved his black curly hair from his face, and peered at the parchment.
 

 
White sparks crackled from his collar, causing him to yelp, but the metal band remained locked.

After rubbing his neck, Faolá¡n dipped a feather tip in his ink pot and made a mark on a parchment on the table. The paper held many marks.

“Meeew mew.”

“I'm not discouraged, but thanks all the same, Zoe. If he warded my yoke against all release spells in the history of man, then I shall invent one. I will win free of this thralldom.”

3.

“Greetings princesses and sisters to be, the King sends me as emissary to welcome you to Westfalon. Come inside where a roaring fire and hot apple cider await.”

Carme, Laelia, Rhonwen, and then Gwyneth filed out of the coach, each earning a diplomatic hug and kiss from Avila.

“I hope you do better than that for me,” Cadon said, pulling back his hood. “I didn’t ride all this way for a handshake, darlin’.”

“Oh? Does the Prince believe he is entitled to special favors,” Avila said. She grinned, and stuck out her hand.

Cadon grasped it and pulled her close so that their faces touched. “Yes, I do.”

He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, settling in for a long kiss. Only after several *ahems* from his sisters did he pull back.

“Still chilled, love?” Avila said, panting, “or have I raised your temperature a bit?”

“I bet that’s not all you’ve raised,” Rhonwen said, which earned her a whack on the arm from Carme.

“Roni!” Carme said. “I am so sorry about that, Avila-”

“-You don’t even get the joke,” Rhonwen said.

“Ohh! I do to get it-”

“I’m not sure you will ever ‘get it’ at the rate you are-”

“-I need to tend to Llamrei, Avila,” Cadon said, after giving the princess a light kiss. “I’ll leave you to sort out my sisters.”

“You are leaving me for your horse? Surely one of our capable stable boys can see to her.”

“She is my partner and I leave her care to no other,” Cadon answered, as he walked down the cobblestone street. “Imagine how much care I will shower on you when we are wed.”

“Dream on! And …take a bath, too! I do not find greasy blond hair charming.”

Avila turned back to her princess audience. “Stood up for a horse. Arrggh! Your brother is impossible! I want to smack him, but I suppose I must wait until we are husband and wife for that right.”

“Oh, no need to wait on that,” Rhonwen answered, “We do it all the time, as you do no doubt, with your brothers. You have our permission to bash him whenever you want. Now, did I hear you mention something about hot cider?”

“Ah! My manners desert me; you must all wish to warm and freshen up. Follow me, ladies. And any arrows you can arm me with to use against your cur of a brother would be most appreciated,” Avila said, leading the group through the oaken doors of the Great Hall.

“For instance, was he a bed wetter when young, or did he ever…”

4.

“You keep interesting company, Syner.”

The aged man scrunched his bushy eyebrows and looked up.

“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, sir?”

“Interesting company indeed,” the hooded man continued. “Mister Fermin is rumored to be a spy on the payroll of the King of Arcum. And he came to visit you not two days ago. Why?”

Syner’s hand shook, causing ink to drip on the parchment before him.

“Curse the gods! Hours of work, ruined!” He blotted the ink and placed his quill in an inkjar. “I know of no Fermin who came here, and I have had many customers this week, thank fortune. I am but a humble scribner who takes what work he can get.”

The hooded man leaned close, and pulled back his hood. “Such modesty, Syner. Yet in my circles, you are known as the finest forger in Kotugul.”

“Jaussen! I was going to alert you, I swear, by the-”

Jaussen’s knife slammed through the parchment, pinning it to the scribner’s table.

“Tell me now.”

When Syner saw the set of Jaussen’s face, his pasty complexion turned whiter.

“He had me prepare, sign, and seal a letter from King Rhys to King Gritha. I had no choice, I-”

Jaussen’s voice grew soft, hissing. “And what did this ‘letter’ from Glamorgan’s ruler …say?”

“It proposed an alliance, between Glamorgan and Arcum. Rhys promised to deliver Princess Avila as hostage to King Gritha, in exchange for a mutual defense treaty and increased copper and grain trade.”

“What?! Blast! And he headed north?”

“Mister Fermin does not consult with me about his movements,” Syner answered. “But presumably he is headed to Westfalon, where such a document would be useful, and ...most dangerous.”

As Jaussen paced the scribner’s shop; the only sounds in the room were his boots creaking over wooden planks. Then the dark-eyed man turned back to Syner.

“By Selene you will draft another letter from King Rhys, forger, and this is what it will say…”

End Part 1.

Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.