The final approach to Vulstis Keep makes Aine sink in on herself. Her white and gold dress to honour Nocriam feels more like a flag of surrender for one about to enter a den of angry foxes. The weathered turrets and coal-soaked walls force the vast castle to emulate the appearance of a looming storm cloud that never goes away. A storm cloud that haunts Aine's nightmares, no matter how shiny her father commanded the white marble of the Hall of Witnesses be kept. Braelyn observes Aine closely, strawberry blonde hair pulled back into its convenient bun so she can easily trail every line of Aine's face for an inclination of the red-haired woman's mood.
Aine may be a fantastic warrior, but she lacks the art of lady-like subtlety. She cannot mask her emotions well under ridiculous flattery or false smiles. As she drives a sword through her enemy's heart on the battlefield, there is no need to play pretend. Braelyn, however, would sweetly convince you she is your most loyal friend whilst shoving a knife through your back.
Braelyn is chuffed that she has trumped the heir to the great Sampson name at yet something else. A trait much more favourable in the Vulstis Court, too.
"What are you so happy about?" Aine snaps, screwing her face up in contempt.
It seems Braelyn is so chuffed that she let her precious facade slip. Her father, Lord Berach Highmarch, would have scorned her to the high heavens if he had just witnessed that.
The carriage comes to a halt and the horses whinny, signalling they have finally arrived at the stables of Vulstis Keep.
"Just that we are finally here, I was beginning to get motion sickness." Braelyn lies smoothly, offering Aine a reassuring smile.
Aine sneers at her like a wild cat. She cannot quite place it, but from refusing to say what her father had discussed with her, to the sinister look she was giving her when she awoke with a splitting headache, to the way she lightly glazes over everything as if it is fine, Braelyn is becoming rather sickening.
A guard opens the door, a strong smell of manure wafting in courtesy of a chilling breeze. "This way, m'lady."
Well, at least they're not calling me Goddess now. Part of King Min's sudden 'be nice' plan, perhaps?
Before Aine can delve deeper into the twisted mind of the man she hates, she's traipsing through a mix of mud and horse poo into what appears to be a service entrance to the castle.
Be nice, but not that nice, she remarks in her head, taking note of how the mess on the floor has completely desecrated the colours of Nocriam represented on her dress. She has waded through pools of blood and piles of amputated limbs, and yet some mud feels significantly more offensive.
Though weathered from the outside, Vulstis Keep sports grand gothic architecture and design on the inside. The only similarity is that the inside is still coated in coal dust, no matter how many scullery maids are scrubbing away. Aine remembers that much from her days at Court and the long hours her and her mother would spend promenading with the other ladies whilst her father and the men flexed their egos in the Council Room. The only woman allowed in the council meetings back then was the previous queen, Min Chinsun. She is now known as The Dowager Vixen because of her sharp tongue and blatant honesty.
After climbing a vaguely familiar spiralling staircase and being guided to a door at the end of a sprawling corridor, the Vulstis guard clicks his heels together, dismissing himself. As the door swings open and Aine examines the grand fireplace and the elegant canopies that encapsulate the large bed, memories of her mother plaiting her hair and singing her folk songs flash before her eyes. This room. This very room is where she used to stay when her father was called to Court.
"M'lady?" Braelyn asks, wondering why Aine is frozen at the threshold of a seemingly normal-looking room.
"Leave me." Aine commands blankly, almost falling into the room as her steps are weighed down with memories of her mother.
"Yes, m'lady." Braelyn says, swiftly turning and rushing off to inform her Vulstis connections about Aine's saddened state upon seeing the room. It's all she can do to contain the smirk threatening to form on her lips. She's a proper lady, and must contain herself.
Meanwhile, Aine runs her fingers along every ledge, crevice and crack in the room. Instead of seeing the extravagant gothic architecture, she sees the windowsill as her mother's favourite spot to sit and recite her morning prayers to the Sun God. The cracked floorboard just to the right of the fireplace is not a malfunction, but instead where she used to cradle Aine in her lap as her fingers expertly wove Aine's hair into an intricate up-do. A single tear escapes the corner of Aine's eye, paralysing her cheek as it falls. Paralysing her face. She does not know what to do, she has not cried in so long.
"Excuse me, m'lady, we have come to prepare you for the induction meeting with the Council." an unfamiliar voice announces.
Surprise, then frustration. They are emotions Aine is used to. Swiping underneath her eyes and swivelling around, she comes face-to-face with a band of Vulstis servants carrying things ranging from a dress to makeup to gold jewellery. Braelyn is nowhere in sight.
"Right. Come in."
Surprisingly, the dress she is shoved in is not black nor gold, but emerald green. Aine's instincts tell her that is not much better considering Vulstis's stone is the emerald. Although a Lady's role in the Vulstis Court is much more conservative than in Nocriam, their dress code certainly does not reflect this as the dress's suffocating corseted top and plunging neckline leave barely anything to the imagination. Aine's hair is wrestled into an elaborate plaited up-do to reveal the contours of her neck and collarbones that compliment the angles of her face and jawline. The servants are not as gentle as her mother used to be, yanking so hard to the point where Aine is convinced they are trying to rip the red right out of her scalp. Multiple gold jewellery pieces are draped from her neck, ears and wrists.
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She no longer looks like Princess Aine Sampson of Nocriam, the fearless warrior who sliced the skin clean off King Min's forearm. No. She looks like an object of desire. An emerald to be admired and gawked at. And now she's walking into the Council full of men who probably set this whole thing up to boost their egos.
For the first time in her life, Aine will see the Council Room. To say it is underwhelming is an understatement. Aside from some tapestries depicting the history of Vusltis on the walls, it just has the same interior as the rest of the castle. A glossy wooden table paired with some gem-encrusted chairs to flaunt their trade of coal and gemstone mining is placed in the middle, and that about sums up the furnishings in the room, excluding the essentials such as candles and draping for the window.
As for the people, they stare at her like six hungry foxes whilst taking leisurely sips from their wine cups. Aine recognises each and every one of them, either from her time at Vulstis Court when she was younger or from recent encounters. Lord Berach Highmarch, a highly ambitious man who was always after the reputation and acclaim the Sampsons had in Vulstis. Looks like he finally got it. Sir Caim Davys, a wise old man of the people, a sly swordsman, and Aine's first ever combat and archery teacher. Her heart aches a bit at the sight of him. Sir Mermin Conall, Vulstis's Head of the Royal Guard and known charmer, no matter how much he ages. Aine has had a fair few duels with him on the battlefield. And of course, Advisor Hwang, The Dowager Vixen, and King Min.
"Ah, so this is what you look like without all your weaponry and I'm-going-to-kill-you get up! Not bad." Advisor Hwang says teasingly, that fake smile back on his face.
Aine's lip twitches and she considers strangling him with one of her necklaces, but after eyeing Sir Conall and Sir Davys, she decides against it.
"I've already got a headache and we haven't even started yet, at least let the girl sit down before hurling your insufferable egos at her." a voice cracks through the air like a whip, as if you have to listen and obey or else.
"Yes, ma'am." Advisor Hwang mumbles, tottering off to his seat beside King Min with his tail between his legs.
Aine takes a seat the furthest away from anyone else, partly because she does not want to be near any of these people, and partly because her dress is so big it does not allow her enough room to sit near anyone. She glances up at the owner of the voice, Min Chinsun, aka The Dowager Vixen, and notices her grey hair is fixed into a similar hairstyle as hers. Granted, she is wearing royal ornaments in it, whereas Aine is not. However, she is not bothered by it. She is wearing it with such dignity and fierceness, despite sitting at a table with men she just deemed have 'insufferable egos'. The wrinkles on her face only add to her prowess, painting her as wise and all-knowing, making her opinions valued, rather than weak and ageing. The makeup around her eyes is dark and dramatic, meaning anyone who meets her brown-eyed glare is facing off with an even more intimidating sight. It is enough to make anyone second-guess what they are saying. Considering King Min's silence up until this point, he dares not to question his mother either.
"Welcome, or should I say, welcome back to the Kingdom of Vulstis, Aine Sampson, Goddess of the Land." King Min says, raising his cup.
Aine furrows her brows.
"I didn't fix Coimeach Pass. What if your people go there and find out it's still ransacked? I don't think they'll be too pleased." Aine points out, hoping a revolt of Vulstis's common people will be her ticket out of here and the key to Nocriam's victory.
"No...but we did." Sir Conall perks up, smirking.
I'm being used. Just like the emerald I'm dressed up as.
"You expect me to just sit back and be your pawn? That arrow was a warning, but rest assured you shall end up like King Ailill Olom- maimed by the Goddess you kidnapped!" Aine yells, slamming her fists on the table.
King Min flinches, his reaction taking Aine slightly aback.
"For such a disciplined warrior, you sure do have a short fuse. Emotions will be the death of you, child, especially when there are so many vultures waiting to feed off of that." Min Chinsun assesses, sighing.
Aine's eyes widen at how right she is, but in a moment of bubbling emotion continues on to vent her reasoning. "Maybe because the same kingdom that took away my mother and forced me into warfare is now trying to take me away from my father! All I can think about is how the Goddess Aine got her revenge- why can't I? Why must I be the one to continue to suffer losses at the hands of a man that has seemingly hated me from the moment I was born?"
Something that somewhat resembles guilt and sympathy flashes across King Min's dark eyes, but it's gone before Aine can fully examine it.
"Regardless, the world is cruel. People will use your emotion whether that is love, or the people you love, to get to you. You have to get that under control if you want to survive. Dying won't help your father. Maiming my son certainly will not." Min Chinsun says more harshly than before. There's no sympathy in her eyes, only openness. Telling Aine she's being nothing but honest, a complete contrast to her son whose eyes are nothing but closed-off.
"Besides, what you just insinuated against our king is treasonous, you ought to be sent to the dungeons for such words!" Lord Highmarch accuses.
"Oh, do shut up, you old fart. We all know why you really want her in the dungeons." The Dowager Vixen shuts him down, Aine catching her meaning immediately. He hates the Sampsons because he envies them. She's surprised he hasn't asked for Coimeach Pass yet since it's been restored. He constantly complained to Aine's father that Arionnach Hill (pronounced Ah-ree-oh-nak), the Highmarch residence, was too far away from Vulstis Keep.
"It's not like I was going to let the girl anywhere near the armoury, anyway. I may be old, but I'm not stupid." Sir Davys scoffs, sending a wink Aine's way.
"Well then, I'd say that's that for this introductory meeting. I do have other things to attend to. Or do you men have some dick measuring to add onto this, because I'd much rather skip that?" Min Chinsun says curtly.
King Min looks a little put out that his mother ended the Council meeting for him. Or was it that she mentioned his nether regions?
As for Advisor Hwang, well, the smile is long gone and his expression finally matches his eyes. It is one of loathing, but who it is directed at, Aine cannot tell. What she can tell, though, is that she can rely on The Dowager Vixen to get things done, and in a brutally honest way at that.
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