[CRP] A Ride with Memories & Ghosts

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Zuan
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Joined: Mon Jan 23, 2012 6:20 pm

[CRP] A Ride with Memories & Ghosts

Post by Zuan »

It was a cool spring morning as the King departed from the Imperian castle on horseback. The sun was yet to rise and darkness still reigned over the light as he made his way from the keep and away from the city and into the surrounding countryside. He was riding upon his black haired warhorse which was his signature mount for both matters of war and relaxation. The King was wearing his usual attire for riding, that of knee high leather black boots and matching breeches, along with a leather doublet and a wolf fur cloak upon his shoulders to provide some warmth given it was still cold in Fenia when the sun was not high in the sky.

His early morning ride was not an uncommon thing, in truth it was part of an almost daily routine whereby he might escape the Court and its courtiers for a few hours before he would be required to attend meetings, privy councils, and attend to petitioners in the throne room. Here upon his horse, lost among the Fenian forests he could find some peace and quiet and some much needed silence. Where the only sounds and songs would be from the chirping of birds of the rustling of leaves unsettled by the wind. Each morning he would extricate himself from his loving wife Ella, kiss her upon the cheek and admire her beauty before making his way to the stables where his horse would be saddled and readied for him. In truth Zuan was unsure if Ella was aware of his morning retreats to the forest, she had not mentioned anything, yet she often mumbled something when he rose from their bed.

As he continued on through the various trees, plants and shrubbery which made up the forest floor he noted the sun was slowly rising up in the sky. His time was dwindling, for once the light defeated the dark he would turn his steed back and return to the castle. Yet for now he was happy enough to be among the trees. His mind wondered as it so often did while he was alone about the choices he had made in life. From when he first arrived in Fenia City and took a seat upon the council, to the fall of Widu and the death of Scarlette, to his own rise to become King of Fenia, to the birth of his son Anrai and the eventual retaking of Widu where he retook the city his predecessor had lost. His mind then settled upon his wife, Ella, and a small smile crept up upon his lips. It was with her he found himself at his happiest. In these recent months he was perhaps feeling his age more and more, the memories of moments long past, the faces of those long gone, the dreams devoured by a reality which could not allow them.

In truth Zuan Winterbourne felt his age, both in body and in spirit. The choices he had made, the people he had loved, the people he had hurt, much of which had been sacrificed for the good of Fenia, and there at least he found some solace. When he had become King Fenia had been broken, it had been dismantled and almost conquered. Yet now all these years later, Fenia knew peace, it knew prosperity, and it had hope for its future. The enemies who had long been at the gates had been bested, and for all the losses of friends, allies and brotherhood he could at least acknowledge that peace which had been hard fought, had been well earned. Yet that did not mean he did not miss them. Those names, those faces, those voices who had guided him, defined him and helped him in Fenia’s most difficult of moments. Mazork. Morghain. Aingeal. Aida. Perhaps amongst the forest and the foliage he might see the ghosts of younger days.

As his horse cantered through the forest and deeper into its heart his mind flittered to his family. His brothers and sisters, and in particular Ambrosia, Dahlia and Serafay. His sisters were who he had been closest to in his family, yet in so many ways he was more distant from them now than ever before. Sera had been away for some time, and he was unsure if she might return – she had always had a strong spirit that could not be contained. Dahlia who had supported him in his worst moments, who had fought beside him to retake Widu, who now resided so often away from the Imperian Castle, and Ambrosia. Ambrosia who he had been closest with in his younger years, who had provided him with brutal honesty but unwavering friendship, who had shown him both love and hatred in equal measure for the paths they walked had differed so vastly. Now she was naught but a script upon a letter which he received once every few months from Bravia. He smiled at that. For all their differences, and all their pain, he still enjoyed those letters, however brief they might be. As while the wound might never heal between them he was glad they could still correspond when so much else had been lost.

The gentle breeze which breached through the forest canopy created a unique tune among the branches and the leaves as they bristled and jostled against one another while the King continued upon his purposeless journey. He sighed softly, allowing his breath to join the choir in the wind, as his mind turned to his children. Anrai was now a toddler, growing by the day, destined to one day take his seat as King of Fenia, while the twins were often chasing after him competing as brothers often did. He hoped when he was gone from this world that they might continue that bond of brotherhood which he worked so hard to foster among his sons. While his daughters, seen less often, were educated and guided by their mothers across the sea in Bravia. Akos and Aishe. The women who gave him his children, and who in these moments of silence and reflection he thought about often. He had failed them. He had failed their children. But much like with his siblings, destiny had set them on different paths, and he had no fears for his children. Those educated by him and those educated by their mothers, they would all know love, kindness and their blood – that of Fenia and of the BDR. He wondered often how his children would adapt to their duties and their expectations, balanced so finely between two cultures and two Kingdoms, yet he had faith in them. For they had his strength and they had the brilliance and tenacity of their mothers.

The sun continued to rise, for all of Zuan’s victories as King of Fenia, his one undying enemy, time, would always defeat him. It was almost time to turn back. Almost. Of course, he could continue riding, perhaps one day he would? Just ride away into the forest to never be seen again. There he could live out his days as a hermit, away from the questions of court and the expectations of rulership. He could grow old and grey and one day sleep the eternal sleep and finally accept the ultimate defeat to his great nemesis. For all his talents, for all his abilities, he could not outrun that outcome. Not in truth did he wish too. His only regret would be that of his wife. Ella Winterbourne.

Ella was the light of his life, that which offered him counsel and guidance, who granted him relief from the pain that he felt, those burdens which so often haunted his thoughts on these very journeys. He was glad and proud to call her his wife, and hoped one day she might be willing to accept the mantle as his Queen. Yet that did not matter, he did not need a ceremony, nor did she need a crown to be the holder of his heart. For that is what she was. He pictured her in his mind, resting soundly as he left their chambers that morning, a majestic perfection which he loved and sought to protect like no other. And it was her, and her alone, which ensured he would never truly depart on these trips. He would not abandon her, he would not abandon the one person who could sooth his soul and calm his doubts. She was his and he was hers. Until death do they part, and perhaps not even then.

He sighed, his expression one of vulnerability, one which highlighted his age and his experiences – both the good and the bad. It was an expression which only she saw, her and the forest, for once he turned his steed and returned to the castle and to court, the man Zuan Winterbourne would be replaced by the King Zuan Winterbourne. All his mortal worries, doubts and memories would be cast aside for the good of the realm, it’s people and indeed his children, in particular his son and heir Anrai. As for all of his successes and all of his failures, the truth was that Zuan Winterbourne would be defined by the success of his son more than anything else. The toddler was young, he was the Little Wolf, destined to wear the crown and to be the leader of the pack. In the ambition and abilities of his son, Zuan would be defined… Yet… The King thought to himself, that was some way off yet, and for all of his ghosts, and all of his memories. There was still time left yet to tell his own tale, to write his own chapters, and to ensure when his time did come – that Fenia would once more have a King they could be proud to crown and call their leader.

With a pull on the reins and a kick with his spurs he turned his horse and headed back to the castle. His mount was riding hard now, the wind flowing thick and fast through his hair as he embraced the simple escape of the ride which would soon be over. As the daylight defeated the darkness, and the trees retreated into grassland he swiftly made his return to the castle just as courtiers, knights and servants were beginning their morning routines. Returning his horse to the stables and the care of the stable hands, the King took his usual route back to his chambers where he might change, greet his wife and tackle the day which was to come.

How it was, to be the King of Fenia. To be the leader of such a Kingdom, to be burdened by the memories of such loss, yet to be motivated by the love of a wife, and the future of his children and the world they might build that was beyond even his imagining.
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High King of The Fenians - Brother to Dahlia, Ambra, Trinity, Sera & Zhou
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