The Bite of Crystal

[redford]

A light snow began to fall as John and company stood around the carriage, and James shook the building flakes from his cloak. He spoke, his gaze still trained on the bloody husk of the carriage.

"His wife lived, barely. Lost an arm trying to protect his wife."

John looked around, gazing at the mountains thoughtfully. How much will James lose protecting me?

"Have you seen my mother of late?"

"Elizabeth? Afraid not, my boy. News is that she keeps herself in the old Cromwell house, never leaves."

John's mouth set itself in a grim line. This had all been his doing.

"Any news of Richard?"

James sighed heavily. "Grief makes a man do strange things, John. After all of it happened, and you were gone....I'm not sure. Maybe he went mad, maybe it was too much for him to bear." James pressed a hand to John's shoulder, having to reach up slightly.

"Your father disowned you, John.

John took a step away, pulling from James' touch. "What?"

James followed, reaching out for his adoptive son again, who pulled away further.

"No," he said, he pleaded. Disowned me?

"Please, John," James said again, reaching out. "He was doing what he thought best for Hou-"

John stepped away, turning toward the carriage. "House Cromwell, yes! Always his devotion to House Cromwell, always above his loyalty to the people."

"John..." James said, looking past him.

"No, James, I will speak and you will listen," he said, pointing a finger toward the older man. "What good did it do my father to disown me? What good? House Cromwell is a pariah, James, and nothing can change that stigma but time. Anyone who remembers what I did will remember the name Cromwell with fear. What does it benefit the people or the name that I am cast out after the fact, hm?"

"John!"

The half-giant then understood, turning to see Daugi with her nose pressed close to the ground. His mind snapped back into reality, he clutched the scabbard and nodded in the direction she was pointing.

"Your province, yes? What lies over there?"

"One of the older, deeper mines. We've been recently having some trouble with mercenaries who've holed up in the mountain. Come, I have a carriage nearby, we can follow that way."

John turned his back to the dog, following James, and feeling a little ashamed of himself.

[FennWenn]

(Let me know if the bunnies are acceptable! I really wasn't sure where to go with this, so let me know if you have any ideas on improving it too! <3)


Oh dear.

If Daugi wasn’t counted, Fenn had no family. Thus, Fenn did not normally get involved in any sort of family affairs. What would be bad about being disowned? he wondered, reigning in his eager mount with with gentle tugs on her scruff. It was likely, the little Fae knew, that he himself had been somehow disowned or discarded the day he was born. He recalled no birth parents. He remembered nothing more than fending and forging for himself in the wilds. Something someone had told him seemed to quietly indicate that he wasn’t quite accepted by other Frost Fae -- but that was a while ago, at the foot of a dragon hoard, and in a dream nonetheless. What worth were parents if they weren’t there for you..?

It made him quietly ache for his long-dead adoptive father.

Maybe he didn’t understand the context of the discussion, but Fenn could definitely tell that it left James and John quite a bit upset. When the discussion had quieted down, and with a tug of her shaggy scruff, Fenn prompted Daugi to momentarily pull back next to John. He gave him a wordless, consolatory pat on his arm. The big man ruffled his hair in turn. He still seemed dour. “Sorry you had to hear that. Why don’t we get going, before your wolf runs off without us?”

“WUFF!”

They set off on a detour for Jame’s carriage. It took a bit before Daugi understood that carriages couldn’t follow her into the deep snow and scattered trees, and then the were on their way with her keen nose leading the charge. Preferring the cold and his mount to the reasonably warm carriage interior, Fenn bounced precariously as his direwolf friend dashed at maximum enthusiasm after the lieutenant's scent. She did love a good hunt.

Statues scattered the roadside at random intervals. They were crumbling and decrepit, slowly being worn away by the elements. As they whisked past them, Fenn couldn’t help but lean towards them, staring. They seemed vaguely humanoid, no, primate-like in appearance. He could’ve sworn it to be his imagination, but Fenn seemed to catch sight of a white-furred monkey peering right back from behind one of the statues.