An Ally

The Dragonslayer left the Reed meadow, with a heavy heart. He had faced his Mentor and won his freedom, proved that he was ready to walk the Iron path, all the way to Camelot.

As he stepped through the archway, Arthur new better than to look back, he was no good with goodbyes and neither was Lee. And yet... He did pivot his head, and smiled as he saw Lee, meditating cross-legged in the tall grass, her sea of midnight hair relaxed on her shoulders, surrounded by the soft cotton of the ivory grass around her. She opened her eyes, and looked back at her protégé a grin forming on her red lips.

She nodded one last time and he returned it, making a portrait of the image in his mind and hold unto it tightly.

"Until we meet again, My Mentor. In this life or the next"

He walked away from that Grove, a little brighter than when he expected.

The path under the snow and pines felt longer than any time before, as was the tall lodge when he passed it, unfinished but beautiful in it's potential to return to it's former glory.

He walked away from his home, his footsteps light on the small sheet of snow that stained the hills with ivory, where the Ghost of Aetri died and the legend of the Dragonslayer would begin.

The Gates of Uld were open as he stepped through them, unmanned by the two blind fools who usually perched themselves there. Arthur continued his march, his flaming thoughts doing nothing to distract him from the cold.

"I will not gonna miss this spiteful frost. I hope the Northwestern Coast still has the warm spring rains, my mother used to dance with us in it when we'd visit Uncle Falstaff at Karhald..."

The memory made him smile and warmed his bones at least a little.

He halted however, at the foot of the gate and stood sentry there for a while, his mind wrought with Platinum hair, and a restrained smile.

Lee had warned him, that where he showed his face... his true nature, death would follow. Aetri had allowed himself to love these people, and these people had died.

He whispered, his breath leaping subtly into the cool air "Aetri... sometimes I can't tell, if you Love everyone or No one at all." words that He took for granted before, and not again.

Arthur whipped around, gripping a small wrist which reached out for him. The Slayer cast his eyes on the feathered cloak, and faceless beaked mask of abyssal silver. "You have never heard my coming before." Crow said curiously, now in her full regalia.

He nodded softly "I didn't hear it... I uh, I just felt it. But my listening breath tells of a crowd gathered in the the Town center."

The Spymaster tilted her head "You aim to avoid a proper farewell?" She whispered in realization.

He softened his grip on her arm, and took her softly by the shoulders "We should never have come here, it was a mistake. We died in Camelot that day, with Falstaff, with Ozwuld, but we didn't... we are more phantoms than people, You died when your father sent you to the Easterling Magisters, and I when that freakish abomination looked right at me, and it's afterimage will follow us until we find out what in the Void is going on. Until then, no more endangering lives, not for ghosts like us."

Crow touched one of the hands on his shoulder "I will get the Girl, and the Horses out of sight, we are ready to set off."

He nodded "Good. You remember Hilmar's rise, the hill we stayed in on the outskirts south of the village, meet me there. I will take the path around the gate, the watchers will be occupied."

She bowed "Do not linger long, the warm-road is treacherous after nightfall."

The lost prince thought of Frigga, of Lok, even Tyrg as He walked around the high wall of tall logs, his feet crunching on the salt path until...

Arthur saw a man, platinum of hair, twirling a dirk between his fingers as He turned his blue eyes to the Slayer, who paused and then rolled his own. He did not pause, continuing his march as Tyrg smiled and followed after.

"It's a great insult to walk away from a Jarl, Fehu." Tyrg said blankly.

"I need to leave." Arthur said even more plainly.

"Yes... but not before-" He grasped Arthur's arm and the Slayer spun, red-faced.

"You don't understand."

"No, you don't understand."

Arthur looked down and saw the thick bundle Tyrg held in his arms, He smiled mischievously "Prince, Dragonslayer, pompous prick, you're truly a man of many faces. We thought it a shame, if the Many-faced man was burned to ash before I could say my thanks for the glory you brought us."

The thick roll was unimaginably light for it's size, but thick and scaled like Reptilian leather, warm to the touch; it's black scales gleaming darkly with tones of violet and azure: a cloak of Ignix Hide.

Arthur looked up to Tyrg and shook his head "Your sister-"

"-Drinks and smiles and dances with the Gods in Valhalla. Died for a purpose that is only as worthy as you accept it to be, princeling." The Jarl said, his half-scorched face creasing as He grinned.

"I am no prince."

Tyrg nodded "Maybe not. but whoever you may be, call on me and I will bring the wrath of the Gallows god to your enemies."

Locking hands; they had met as foes, stupid boys with stupid rivalries, but Arthur left Uld and Tyrg as an ally.