Have a seat in the foyer, take a number

i was lightning before the thunder

She used to be Silanos.

It was back in a time when the lands of winter and harsh realities were all she knew, even before she sealed herself away in the camp of Jarl. She hadn't yet earned her title, the name she would wear proudly and shed the one given by parents who were never truly, unconditionally in love with her. There had always been reservations about her not being a colt--for she, the only child to take the throne as heir, would have to fight her way up tooth and nail to gain something that was simply handed to the boys. She was a girl, in the end, and that would be her only downfall.
Did he remember how she stood upon the throne after those years locked in a warrior's life; when she broke all the laws of their Court to become their first female heir? She had bested Hiemsterra's brightest soldier, withstood where he had fallen. She rose to take the crown after being passed off as nothing more than a pretty filly, a proper princess to follow in her nonexistent brother's shadow. Except it would be the brother that fell into hers once she left the lands of Veteris behind.

She knew him, of course, when she was Silanos. She might have seen him in passing as she wandered the Winter Court halls as a yearling, studying the names of all those related to their royal linage. Yet they'd never had a proper conversation, never spoke words to each other at all. They led different lives in the court; she didn't know anything about who he was.

And now he was there, there in her Dusk Court of Novus. But she was Rannveig now, and years had gone long since they saw each other. She recognized him easily at their meeting, basked in the sound of his voice for the first time. And once it split away, each going their own direction, she stayed behind and watched them go. Her heart pounded against the thickness of her ribcage at the sight of him, one from her own family of the Winter Court. And though they only knew one another as shadowy figures, she craved their interaction.

Before he could turn himself away from her at the conclusion of their gathering, she said but one word, one name, hoping he would stay back with her. "Morozko."

Have a seat in the foyer, take a number

i was lightning before the thunder

She couldn't tell if she was as much the child as she was back in the Winter Court; was she still naive (had she ever been naive)? She certainly pulled the focus from herself and passed it on to those around her--those of her court--after her time in Jarl, but the doubt remained if she was best fit for the Dusk Court, a warrior in a lover's land. There was no one to say that she didn't belong there, but to lead its people was a different matter. She might have dreamed of better for Vespera's children before; could the daughter of winter prove herself worthy of dusk?

Rann watched with a pounding heart as the figure of Morozko lingered behind, dappled grey coat soaking in the newfound sun where hers threw the rays back into the sky. If any were hard-pressed to say that they were of the same Winter land, any had to simply watch their mannerisms; their features were similar, their bodies a solid mass to be used for whatever the situation called. When he turned and faced her, her exterior showed nothing that it hadn't already--a curiosity, the picture of someone who merely observed--despite the intensity of the blood pouring through her body. She waited for his reaction, the mutual recognition of each other, anything that said he remembered. The light in her eyes brightened at his words, at that statement of 'you've grown.' They stood looking at one another for some moments.

"We are family," the sentence slipped out with a slight smile, her own body folding into a bow to return his sign of respect, "You need not bow to me." They of similar size and stature were two bold figures to be held in the gaze of the Dusk tower, a meeting of the same frozen season.

She looked him over, ensuring his good health, before giving way to the only thing she could think about. "You left home." They weren't words of accusation or disapproval; instead they hinted toward an excitement blooming in her breast. She hadn't thought much of those of her home court also leaving the snow behind, as she had. There was nothing calling them to the lands of Novus, and they finally had the male heir they waited so long for. Questions of her brother were sure to soon follow, as with the state of Hiemsterra, but for the time she simply enjoyed the company of one she knew in her youth--a youth long put to rest behind her.