Awakening

Light shone through the open window, a beam of sunlight cast from the clear sky. The beam was small but intense, and as the Morn turned to noon, it crept about the room.

Arthur watched it move, from the cot that he lay in, sweating feverishly and unable to lift his battered and bruised form.

His eyes lingered, and with every blink, He saw the beam turn silver, to gold to silver again... before the beam finally trailed at noon, piercing perfectly through the branches of the pine outside, that it blinded and irritated Arthur's eyes.

Writhing in discomfort, Arthur mustered all of his aching strength, and lifted his arm, shielding his eyes. He groaned as a deep oozing pain rattled through his ribs, and his arm stung from the many stitches and bandages.

He held up his arm until the sun saw fit to leave him be... and by the time, He had lost the ability to rest any longer. Arthur huffed, laying on his back in relaxation, preparing himself for the pain to come before forcing himself to sit up.

His spin clicked and his body stretched with relief, deep jets of pain oozed in various areas... although none to his surprise were overwhelming.

Stiff as a board and heavy with exhaustion, Arthur checked his wounds... or lack thereof.

His largest wound, the one in his abdomen where the Ignix had torn him open, was expertly stitched, and already partially healed, despite the low pain that continued to echo.

Arthur's arm was shattered by Grimstorm... and whatever the mark on it had done, and yet... he had held the same arm up to shield from the sun... for how long had he been asleep.

The Young Warrior slumped back, and began to slowly chuckle, quietly smiling to himself as he rubbed his golden eyes and ran his fingers through his long hair, somebody had seen fit to bathe him and feed him, however long it had been and his bones ached, what harm could a little more sleep do?

Arthur laid himself back down and closed his eyes, laying awake, lost in his thoughts.

The cabin he was in was one he recognized, it was the barracks of the Raider's, where they would camp after a day of hunting and battle, out on the boats after a long season at sea. But none were here, and the many cots, beds, tables and chairs, racks for swords, spears and axes were empty... although it was warm and the hearth still had embers.

A mischievous breeze brushed the cabin, it howled through the trees and danced through their branches. This breeze rolled in from further north of the frozen tundras further north, down through the Cold-cape into Norne, and through the window to the barracks, it pushed open the window, making Arthur stir as the cool air slipped bellow... and tickled the embers of the hearth.

Fueled by the whistling wind, the embers erupted back to life in the half-burned logs, and before long, a great flame was reborn in the fireplace... one that roared and crackled and struck Arthur with a deep sense of foreboding.

He tried to turn, but its heat still pressed on him, it's crackling whipping at his ears. Even after snuffing out sound with his pillow, Arthur could not shake the shiver down his spine, nor the trembling of his hands. The Ignix's screams, the terror and fantasia of the battle on the lake, all sat on the Young Warrior's mind, before he eventually stirred, grunting back upright, and forcing his weak feet to rest on the cold, cobblestone floor.

"Ugh, of course." He grumbled, groaning as his body creaked in protest of carrying his weight. Arthur detected a sharp pain in his ankle, he must have twisted it trying to force his legs through the waters with greater speed. By the time he managed to stand up, he'd tried a dozen times, and as He stood tall on both feet for the first time... it hit him.

He damn near fell back into his bed, stumbling as He struggled to catch his escaped breath "I did it." He whispered, "I'm alive?" He touched his chest, felt his heartbeat, which pulsed strong under his palm. Arthur smiled "I can do it." He whispered, "I can kill them."

None had killed a Dragon, nobody since Balista "the Blade" Regis, Arthur's aternal great great great Grandmother, who was the last to slay a dragon, before the Black solstice where the lesser ancestors of the Dragons were completely and finally exterminated.

these Dragons were nothing compared to what Arthur had seen, they were weak and small, the greater of their races were long slain by his house's progenitor, George the Dragonslayer. None had seen a true Dragon in many thousands of years... until Edwyn, somehow beckoned their return.

The fact that Arthur's eight long years in brutal training paid off... Arthur clutched the sides of his temples, this was... "Fucking diabolical." He whispered in awe.

Arthur found himself doubting as the crackling sound of the haunting flames taunted him from behind, made him question for the first time in years... if this was the right thing to do. When he killed that Ignix, when he looked into his eyes, he saw only a mirror "George... Dad... What am I supposed to do? I've been such a fool, focused on the present, abject to the past. I don't know if I can face this, face her." He turned and looked into the flames, his bones rattling at the sight, Arthur shook his head, and buried his face in his hands.

The wind howled again, and dancing through the open window, it curved soothing Arthur from the flames, as the breeze became hard and fast, it blew the window through the room, snuffing out the candlelight, the torch flames... and smitted away the fire. Arthur took in this breath, this cool calming wind and opened his eyes.

Arthur's fists gripped the wall, as He pushed off, demanding his strength back into life "I cannot stop, not now, not here, this is just the beginning."

The young Warrior forced himself to stand strong on his tired and aching legs, commanded his shoulders to broaden, his posture restored. _"Sometimes, a Warrior has nothing but his will, nothing but his mind. And in the face of death, we spit and stand tall." _He had sacrificed many years to become what He needed to, and by the seven saints and the Holy Goddess, Arthur would stand tall, no matter the cost.

He had found his gear, stashed in a broad wicker basket before his bed. Moving in the cold and darkness, the Alienated Prince frowned deeply at the tattered state of his armour, the leather slashed to pieces, the studs broken clean in two. his cloak burned to ruin.

And yet not all hope was lost, Arthur's black cotton shirt, his breeches, his belt and his boots were still intact, freshly laundered by the look of it. He slipped them onto his aching body, discovering more little stitches and bandages which held his half-healed wounds shut.

After dressing, Arthur drew out his charred cloak, and splayed it over his shoulders, kicking up dust and ash, his face creasing at the scorch marks and slash holes. He'd made this cloak of wolf-skin himself when He was still a boy, but that time was gone, and Arthur pulling away his cloak, folded it with a slight smile, and placed it on the bed, giving it one last look as He walked for the door, and into the morning sun.

The sky was clear, and the clouds were little, A pale blue sky lingered above, accompanied by the first sun of spring. Arthur shielded his eyes as He peered through his fingers to peer at his surroundings; the centre of what he expected to be a wreck.

Warmth filled the young man, as He found himself smiling at the construction sight. Not only did many of the Uld survive the battle, but it seemed that they were already busy rebuilding. Great troupes of 10-12 hoisted the frost birch logs, patching and re-erecting buildings with the many years of stores that Arthur and Lee themselves had cut over the years.

Men hammered and thatched their rooves, Children laughed and danced in the snow, carrying small stacks of sticks to assist the Women in fueling the great campfires dotting the village, cooking great meals and handing out water pouches to their raider-builders.

Arthur smiled and looked around, even with his bare skin exposed to the cold air, his joy at the immediate repair of the village easily kept him warm. He limped out into the snow, remaining, inconspicuous as He watches the Uld speak and laugh and make merriment just like always.

The Young Man kept to the shadows, sifted betwixt crowds, blending in with the bodies unnoticed, Crow's little tricks always came in handy.

"The Human eye is sharp, but it is the brain that is our enemy. In every person is a watchtower, ever vigilant and Inquisitive from danger, but learning the blindspot is key."

_"What if they don't have a blindspot?" _The boy once asked.

"Everyone. has. a Blindspot. Everyone."

Arthur had quickly learned just how blind people chose to be, He stepped amongst the Uld, staying hunched as the Uld typically were, walking with a daily casual but silent gate, observing the repairs that they had made.

The Jarl's longhouse stood strong, with brand new reinforced walls of Frosted Birch. The Many huts made taller, stronger and with greater means of flame retardant control, such as lining their rooves and walls with Frost sap. "Hard and strong like Dale-Rubber, not easily caught a flame... clever."

You cut the Uld down, and they arose from the snow, Ten times stronger... it was their way after all.

It was when Arthur saw the great Valhal, its walls and shields replaced with the frost, blending the mahogany and ivory, shields old... and new. Arthur spotted a new one, at the head of Valhal's dark/light doorway. The Prince's smile faded as He closed his eyes in silent prayer "Find your way home." He whispered, Frigga's smiling face echoing in his mind.

"Master?"

"Ah!" Arthur jolted violently, stumbling over in the snow, as his loud cry alerted all who had ignored him before, saw him with clarity.

Black-Crow stood over him, donned in her garb of dark silk, her hood was down, and she swept off her crow feather cloak, offering it to him, as well as a hand.

Arthur smiled, and took her hand "Crow, it's freezing out here. Put your cloak back on."

She stared blankly "I-"

"-Do not feel cold. Aye, but you will wear it none the less. The cool air will help my burns." Arthur always did have to some things up logically, it was the only way to translate his arguments to the vatan, although of late.

"I am..." She paused, and.... blushed "Glad of your safety, I attended you every night, I could not pry this one away." She rubbed her lips together "You're different, more... aluring. You have matured, You have slain a Dragon."

Arthur stood proud as the Uld began to scamper over, roaring with laughter and cheering as they recognized the Dragon-Slayer.

"You have done what no man has done in a thousand years. I will follow you until the day of my death. I will link with no other, for it will mean my death when you pass on. This one swears it." Black-Crow bowed low as many people came bolting in.

Arthur grimaced and braced as a hoard of laughing brute smashed into him, dragging him through the dirt, ruffling his hair, play fighting with the prince that laughed and skirmished with them all, despite his desperately vicious pain.

"Thought you'd try and skip off to Valhalla without us, Princeling." Tyrg spat, smileling deeply and michefously.

Arthur got to his feet, nursing the slash on his abdomen and flexing his stiff left arm. "You'll do well to keep Prince, Majesty or King out of my Accosiated vocabulary." His golden eyes struck with a far superior gaze of Mischeif, positively blazing with life on his tanned face.

"...I don't think people around here are gonna forget whatyou did anytime soon."

Arthur turned to behold a woman emerging from the crowds. Kara was more beautiful than the spring, strong and new, in her wolf-skin tunic which she had now altered to be more practical, removing the sleeves to replace with long nitted sleeves of cast iron mail. Her red hair bellowed in the wind, and her eyes looked upon you with an absolute joy.

She fiddled with her fingers as she stepped forward, Arthur remained poised and calm, his eyes tracing Kara lightly. _"I'm not the only one whose different." _He thought as the Huntress took him into her arms, and hugged him lightly, she smelt of pine needles and mint.

"I thought you'd gone... I thought you'd leave without me." She whispered.

Arthur constricted on his suspicions, there were things to look out for, clearly... but Kara--Kara wouldn't trick him. Anybody but Kara would decive him.

He wrapped his good arm around her and hugged her back, the raiders and Jarl looking on with cursive eyes. "Never." He whispered in return, the redhead's warm body clutching tighter. "Hey... easy with the squeezing." Arthur chuckled.

Kara pulled back and noticed the eyes watching them. She flushed with the deepest crimson, her freckled face flooding with embarrassment as the Huntress backed away-though her hand continued to clutch yours.

There was a quiet for a moment... as if they expected you to say something, to do something.

"Well." Tyrg eventually spoke.

"Well?" Arthur pressed back. He had not been looking forward to this part, He didn't even ever expect them to ever find out who he truly was, but now they knew in full what he was caperble of, and where He came from, it was a foreign feeling that Arthur was unsure of how to handle.

"Well!? You're a Prince, Aetri, and not just any prince, You're Arthur, _The _Arthur, the lost prince himself lives in our village for nearly a decade and we don't even know... You should have told us." Tyrg spoke, before his eyes became overcast "...you said it yourself, to Frigg and me. You're grandmother, she was-"

"Idunna Regis, your kin, I know." Arthur spoke plainly, in his voice that was dark and cautious.

"She was sworn shield maiden to Jarl Istrid, my grandfather... if we had known, we'd have welcomed you with open arms, you could have trusted us." Tyrg's smile fell slightly, and so did Arthur's, although he remained silent for a time, as the Uld warriors began to join in.

"You're the Young Dragon!"

"We've all heard the stories, Fehu!"

"You told us most of them yourself." Another added.

Kara gripped Arthur's hand, and huffed, staring at him in amazement "You're the Crown prince of Britannia, Aetri, the one destined to be king."

Arthur's frown deepened as He took Kara closer into his grasp "Listen to me, Kara, in fact listen to me, all of you. I am no King, I abandoned that life a long time ago, it isn't what I choose to be, it isn't what I am." His eyes traced all of them, before settling back on Kara "I am a warrior, a killer, a thief... I am a fool, a hater... and a Lover. But I am no King." He spoke fiercely as if his words on the matter were final.

And seeing the seriousness in his eyes, gold and furious like the sun... they relented. "Fine, Arthur. You may not be willing to except a certain amount of glory, but what You've done for us... What You've brought this village, will fill our mead hall with songs for the ages, I've never seen anyone ever fight like you do, let along slay a fucking dragon." Tyrg spoke loudly, Arthur winced, He really hoped that he wouldn't-

"The Uld are in your debt for this glory, and I declare that You and Your kin will forever be welcome amoung us, that Your efforts will be valued and respected for ages to come... we are at your service, Arthur No-King, Slayer of Dragons." Tyrg declared with a broad voice, that made the Uld cheer, swarming Arthur, patting his bruised back and shaking his aching hands, unable to prevent a smile as Kara tried to fend them off.

"HIS INJURIES YOU IDIOTS, STOP BEING SO ROUGH!" She demanded, red-faced, slapping the Raiders away.

It was while the uld were distracted, that Arthur took his leave, once again slipping into the shadows; vanishing into the daylight. Arthur strolled along, stepping deftly along the gravel path, where He avoided noticed by weaving out of people's line of side, remaining a shadow in their peripheral vision "You are in excellent condition." Crow spoke, having appeared, stepping mysteriously out of an alleyway to follow Arthur.

"And You seem off, what is going on? All of these years you have remained so cold, but since you became sick...."

Crow's eyes remained cold as she stared at him.

"Don't look at me like that, many things have changed, whatever slaying that Ignix did... I am ready to return. I need to know that You will be fit for the journey... I worry for you, and we cannot continue halting every time you become sick." Arthur spoke certainly, he disliked the thought of putting himself in the role of 'master', but He had to ensure that she would be safe.

Crow pondered his words, let them simmer around from within her red lips "I will be fit enough for my duty."

Arthur saw the hesitation in her eyes.

"The strangeness in me will continue to grow If I cannot be allowed time to expel it with sickness." She muttered.

"Maybe it will be... a good thing?" Arthur wondered allowed.

Crow's eyes thinned "Shadows should not feel."

Arthur took Crows arm and pulled her closer to his side, She seemed surprised, slightly uncomfortable... He noticed and rolled his eyes "Don't be all quiet and strange, please, I'm still in a lot of pain."

Her discomfort faded and she took his arm, assisting him along "Yes, Master."