“Pondering will do you no good, Letho!” a loud intrepid voice spoke from above, making both the swordsman and the redhead recoil sharply. “What is it today with people creeping up on me?” passed through the gray haired man’s head as his eyes tried to bring the human figure into focus. Her white hair glittered in the renewed sun (that finally slipped from the grasp of the clouds and rekindled life in the nature around them) like liquid silver. Her robes carried the same color, the silvery white attire spreading the undoubted royalty of the woman that stood on the inner wall with her arms crossed in front of her. Her skin was almost sickeningly pale and it was the skin and the face that finally made Letho recognize the voice.
“Rheawien.” he simply said with no real accent in his voice. She was a good friend, as good as they came to Letho, but right now he was in the state of mind to send away even the fistful of those he called his best friends. “What do you want?” he asked sharply. The woman’s lips, thin and rosy, curled into a minute smirk before she jumped from the high wall, landing on her right foot as deftly as if the height was no more the two paces.
“Is that how you greet your queen?” she mused, teasing the man as she approached. And now the swordsman allowed a smirk of his own. Because yes, she was the queen now, the wife of none other then his own son Malagen, but below the title and the fancy attire, Rheawien was still the same one he met back in Scara Brae. Myrhia gulped audibly at the introduction of the white haired queen, certain that the woman was here to persecute her for what she had done. Still, she got up to her feet and took a place beside Letho, bowing her head low once Rheawien reached them.
“Perhaps.” Letho replied. “But the question still stands. What brings you to these accursed ruins?” his voice was a bit sharper now, making an unspoken statement that while she was one of the handful of those he called friends, he had neither the time nor the patience for some meaningless antics. Rheawien acknowledged this with a placid barely visible nod.
“She does.” the queen replied, her words making the red haired girl lift her head and look into the keen brown eyes with profound fear. But despite the strict visage, there was nothing she had to fear on the face of the white haired half-elf. “Did you really think that something of that magnitude could pass by me unnoticed?” she asked the girl, her voice unthreatening and mellisonant. There was kindness in that voice, and understanding and even compassion. The frigid bitch that Rheawien once was was nothing but a distant unwelcome memory these days, and she was actually the kinder of the two when she stood next to her king.
“Alas, I am not here to judge you for your transgressions, Myrhia. I know what you did and I am pretty certain I know why you did it.” the gallant woman spoke, leading the way back to the pond. She stared at the image for a couple of seconds, Letho and Myrhia standing beside her with eagerness nearly radiating out of their pores. Rheawien turned to face both of them. “I am, however, here to help you. I believe both of you suffer from this dimensional shift?” and the look on their faces was the only answer she needed. “Good. That is good. That bond can be used.” she said more to herself then to the two.
“Good? What are you talking about, Rhea?” Letho asked, perplexed by the words of the half-elf. Rheawien remained silent for a couple of more seconds, her eyes not looking at anything in particular, but rather just gazing at some undetermined point in the wall.
“I’m talking about sorting out this mess, Letho Ravenheart.” she finally said with a certain, unwavering tone.
“Really?” Myrhia asked, nearly grabbing the woman by the robes and pulling it like a little child that asked for a cookie from her mother. “You can help us?”
“Well, actually no. You can help yourself.” she said, pointing towards both of them. “I can, however, lead you onto the right track. Come on, let’s sit down. There’s another story to be told.”