G A R E T H
It had been nearly a full year since the brute had come down from the mountain. The crisp fall air had given way to a harsh winter, the snow burying deep all traces of life save for the most hardy denizens of the mountains. Slowly icy peaks gave way to the gentle flowers of spring, and as the earth breathed warm air once more the stallion started to become more of himself again. The strength of the summer sun had drawn him from the cave burrow he had spent the last few seasons. It felt good for his large frame to walk freely, and for once he was not hunched or stooped. The heavy draft frame had always been seen as somewhat intimidating to those he had come across, and in an attempt to smooth things and to prevent undue stress he had come to hold a hushed posture, as if afraid to take up the space around him. Spending the winter huddled in a cave with naught but his own tumbling thoughts had cured him neatly of that- or nearly so.
Gareth had been given plenty of time to mull over recent occurrences. Or, well, recent enough, given how little time he had spent around others this past year. He hadn’t realized it, but after his initial encounter with Salome after her departure so many years ago, he had drawn into himself. There were so many feelings he had thought snuffed, so many questions that had been unanswered. When she had failed to show, he had waited with a near fervor, with a hope beyond all desperate hope. That hope had nearly broken him a second time.
The brief company of Luvena, the sickly looking mare with a strength rarely seen, had brought him some comfort. He hadn’t the strength to tell her the nature of his absence on their last meeting, and he had made it woefully short. He’d made a promise to himself that he would make that up to her. Perhaps with a bundle of herbs, or some tincture or other mixture she may be in need of, as a way of apology and thanks.
Then there had been a fleeting encounter with the fae-winged mare. Her frame had been so small, but her heart had been so full. Gareth had been chastised on more than one occasion by Noor for not being more polite and making an attempt to build companionship. But the earthen brute had not held the heart for it yet. He still ached and wept for a love that would never have been his. That, by all rights should have been dead to him. It had clouded his thoughts for much too long.
The stallion lifted his head high, his elk companion walking steadily beside him, the mushrooms that grew haphazard through the moss began to have a faint glow as the sun set. Neither beast was known to walk the streets of the Night Court often. In fact, the last time either had set hoof to cobblestone has been for the election of Ira to Sovereign. A pity, really, that less than a year later he would be returning not to congratulate his friend, but to welcome a new face to the seat of power.
I suppose you were not the only one facing a troubled heart. Noor spoke not with any malice or disdain of this fact. The elk had seen the heartache that had plagued his friend over the previous seasons, and he knew the depths to which a soul would go to try to recover from tragedy.
“I just hope that this woman knows what she’s doing. Denocte needs a steady hand to lead her, now more than ever.” Gareth’s voice was low, a whisper of conspirators as his pillars drew him closer to the courtyard where the summons had been called. The two kept their distance, choosing to observe quietly, reserving judgement, lest there be a reason for him to question their new leader’s quality.
Israfel seemed to be of noble breeding, if not by birth then by the trials of life. She was well spoken and connected with the denizens of the court in what could be seen as very genuine. She called for questions, and volunteers to help her rebuild the court to its rightful glory. The stallion’s nares flared and his eyes shone with a gentle smile. So far, she seemed to have a solid head on her shoulders.
Then, a delicate thing approached her, asking the questions that surely rest on the minds of many. Gareth recognized the figure as the fae-winged woman he had come across the previous fall. His heart warmed, glad to see that she had found success here in Denocte, and that her spirit remained bright. He lightly bobbed his head in approval of her queries, waiting patiently as another young figure he did not recognize spoke their loyalty to the court, whatever that need may be.
His amber gaze moved again to Israfel, watching the mare to see how she would respond to such questions and exclamations of devotion. Perhaps he would toss his own lot in with them. After all, he had spent so very long serving Denocte and its denizens from outside the walls, without making any true connections with those who shared his beloved home. Perhaps it was time that he truly gave back in service of his court.
