Prince Kent, And His Bastard Brother, Rodrick

A boy, no older than eighteen, stumbled his way through the dark woods that lead towards the Naeria border. His dark red plate armor now thoroughly dented and scratched, and the highlighting yellow streaks barely visible from the mud of multiple falls. Of course, the boy had no intentions of heading into the kingdom, he scarcely knew where he was this moment. The only thing he knew was what laid behind him, the ruins of Malad, the seat of the Kingdom of Berin, the seat of his house.

His fire-kissed hair, once well-kempt and clean just a few hours prior, now clung to his sweaty forehead. A castle forged steel sword swung in his right hand, never before today was it used in anger or malice, only in training with his older brothers. Kent quickly felt the strength leave his body, his brothers, a sharp scrape could be heard as the tip of his sword dragged along the ground, over a few rocks and roots as the young prince found himself leaning against a tree.

Asher, Harren, his father, all three were gone, and from the sounds of chaos coming from the city behind him, his mother and sister Lyra were as likely gone as well. Kent fought back the surge of emotion attempting to overtake him, "Maybe they lived," He thought, "I got away, Lyra could have as well, mother too, maybe they found-"

Kent's thoughts were cut short as the crunching of leaves and branches filled his ears. Pulling his sword back up, the gaunt boy placed a second hand on the hilt preparing to face whoever followed him out this far. "Put it down, Kent, we both know it's not going to do you any good," A voice called back, one that while gruff and hard, gave Kent more comfort than he could express,

"Rodrick?" Kent asked staring out into the darkness for a moment until the man emerged from it. Towering over Kent, stood his giant Bastard older brother. Unlike Kent, Rodrick's hair was a black as the night sky, and much thick, sitting like a thick mop on his head. The twenty-eight-year-old grew a beard to match, and armed in the bannerless black armor of a bastard, one could almost mistake the man for a bear. "Are you hurt?" Kent asked, noting the blood that speckled his face, and clung to both his hair and armor,

"Not my blood," Rodrick muttered back as he sheathed his greatsword, "I have to admit, I didn't expect it to be you I was following. Figured Harren maybe, or Lord Dunn,"

"Father fell, Rodrick," Keny replied shaking his head, trying to forget the burned in memory of a sword driving through the stomach of his father just outside the gates of Malad. "Asher too, Harren I'm...I'm not certain I lost sight of him in the chaos. We were overwhelmed so quickly,"

"Father's bannermen failed to show or were cut off well before they reached our city, Lord Dunn should have surrendered," Rodrick muttered aloud, "No matter, you're the lord now, and my brother, it's my duty to protect you. And the only way to do that right now is getting us the hell out of this forest,"

"You're mad," Kent all but scoffed, "I'm father's fourth-born son, his seat was never meant for me,"

"It's yours now by right," Rodrick reminded the boy who sheathed his sword and quickly began to follow him as they marched through the black woods, "We'll need to stay off the roads, stay on foot, at least until we're out of Berin," The muttered to himself,

"And what right is that? The right of a pile of rubble? Berin is gone, destroyed," Kent denied,

"Not as long as you draw breath," Rodrick sharply denied, "As long as you live, Berin survives. Lord Dunn's blood flows through you, and so the Kingdom does as well,"

"Runs through us, Rodrick, you're my brother," Kent reminded the man who merely cleared his throat, "You are,"

"Aye, I am," Rodrick agreed, "But you see what I wear, you know I have the blue mark just as all other Bastards, I'm you're kin, Kent, but Lord's Dunn's memory, your house, that is in your hands. Now come, we need to keep moving, and stay as quiet as you can, it'll be days before we reach the Naerian border."