Chapter Text
It was deep in the night when Dean approached the marked spot in the forest near Tarrah. The map his master had given him hadn't exactly been helpful, but luckily he'd remembered the route well enough from their last visit. Avoiding common routes took some time, but this mission was far too important to mess up. His gaze scanned the thicket for a clearing and a very special figure.
"Dean!"
The sound was quiet and he couldn't see the person shouting his name, but he knew that voice too well to guess wrong. Smiling, the dracoknight came to a halt, slowly flying lower and lower until they were finally on the ground again. The duchess who had been so harsh at first was now clutching her hands on the saddle as hard as she could, eyes pressed together tightly. Arion was already approaching them when they landed, concern growing bigger once he heard his fiancé panting heavily. Dean was wondering if he should shake her, she didn't seem to notice they were no longer in the air. The other man must have noticed too, since he quickly reached to her.
"Linoan."
Suddenly, she tore her eyes open as if woken up from a nightmare.
"I'm sorry, I did not consider you could be afraid of heights."
Dean snorted but shut his mouth when the prince furiously glared at him for his lack of tact. Linoan was still breathing heavily while she stared at him. Her fingers were slowly letting go of the leather, noticing the trees surrounding them. From the look of it, Dean was sure she had thought her last hour had struck for good this time.
He caught her as she lost her balance. Arion did his best to remain calm, but Dean could see the panic in his eyes. Wearing a simple black cloak instead of his usual attire, he took it off and put the garment over his arms. The dracoknight understood and handed him the unconscious woman.
Her nightgown could barely hide how emaciated she looked. She must have barely touched her food. Or perhaps the Empire had decided to starve her to death if she didn't cooperate. Not an uncommon way to die in their homeland, and Dean had a feeling he wasn't the only one with that thought at this moment.
“Did you miss her, Your Highness?”
The prince didn’t reply, lost in thought while staring at the young woman in his arms. Dean watched as he tightened his grip on the mantle.
“I’ve made her wait for so long… I’m glad she… she’s…”
He understood. It had been a month since the visit to Tarrah. He did well to hide it, yet he confessed his fears to his retainer. And Arion was right. While he was carefully planning a rescue, the Empire had decided his fiancé just was not worth the food rations they had been giving her anymore. A day later and they wouldn’t have been able to save her anymore. It’s better if his liege doesn’t know this was supposed to be her last night. Guilt and regret had been written all over his face already.
“They saw me flying to the north and sent forces to pursue us. Looks like everything is going according to plan.” Dean tried to cheer him up.
Arion nodded mindlessly and kneeled down, intending to lay Linoan on the ground but paused and decided against it. He must fear that putting her onto the soft grass could shatter her. So instead, he sat down on the grass himself and rested her on his legs. A hand brushed pink strands of hair from her face and lingered there.
“Good.”
The Dracoknight had rarely seen his liege lord like this. He was known for his stoic appearance and loyalty to the king, but that didn't mean he blindly obeyed every command. Arion had a mind of his own, and it was moments like these, that very mind could put all of Thracia in more danger than anyone would ever expect of him. His relationship with the duchess could become the excuse Grannvale sought to burn this damned peace treaty to ashes. Their union would mean a shift in power, which the Empire would certainly not stand idly by, even if Linoan had no power at the time. Everyone knew they were slowly running out of children to feed to their dark god, and they were starting to eye theirs. That mad Emperor must be seething with rage that he had drawn up the treaty in the first place with the current conditions. The document granted Thracia independence in exchange for their loyalty. Or at least not to switch sides as soon as there was a better offer. Fortunately for them, Grannvale was too self-righteous to go back on its word overnight. But only the Gods knew what this old man was plotting at this very moment.
Fully aware about all of this and against all better judgment, Arion had decided to further follow his path, and Dean greatly admired that. Rumors were the only thing he had heard of King Travant's brutal revenge on Munster and Friege’s cruel reign that followed, and the dracoknight preferred not to dwell on it. Yet, he knew Arion had seen the results in Munster with his own eyes. The king had asserted his right, but it didn’t really change anything for Thracia. Instead, Linoan proved to him that night that he had only caused more revulsion in the minds of their neighbors. Such resentment is the reason why nothing will ever change on the peninsula. But how can one forgive so easily?
Admittedly, Dean wasn’t sure why this woman was even worth all the trouble. Maybe his lord felt sorry for her? After all, it wouldn't be the first time Arion's kindness had gotten him into trouble, although this was a whole new dimension. Hannibal's upbringing must have certainly left its mark on him.
The way his eyebrows lowered when he looked at her. The way he held her close to him like she's something special. As if there weren't hundreds of young women like her. But the prince seemed to have made up his mind, and it was not Dean's place to argue with him. On the contrary, it's this carefully hidden, rebellious side of Arion that had led him to become his retainer in the first place. On second thought, it’s fitting that he had chosen himself a woman from the north. If King Travant had been present, he certainly wouldn’t have liked what he saw. And that's putting it lightly.
This had been by far the most insane request his lord had ever asked of him. Any other soldier would have declined instantly but Dean really wasn’t any better than the prince. He had chosen him personally for this mission and he couldn’t be prouder that his liege put so much faith in him. With Dáinn and Njörun themselves as witnesses, he swore, he’d rather die a thousand deaths than disappoint him.
Regaining her consciousness, Linoan opened her eyes and was met with Arion’s. It was a beautiful sight, and Dean caught him turn red ever so slightly.
“Please… I’m not…” she croaked, “this is not a dream, is it?”
His face softened and he slowly shook his head.
“You’re free.”, he assured her. "I've promised to save you. I thank you for your trust in me."
Dean rolled his eyes. If anything, the duchess should be the one thanking his lord for his benevolence. She should better not take his help for granted just because she is his fiancé.
As if she had heard his thoughts, guilt started to form on Linoan’s face and the dracoknight knew exactly why. But if she had something to confess, she decided not to, and Dean didn’t plan on speaking up for her either. Instead, she clutched the prince’s shirt and soon after, he could hear her sobbing. So much for the ‘I will never shed tears again’ nonsense.
To his surprise, Arion didn't flinch, but placed a hand on her head comfortingly. The last time Dean had seen his liege lord, he had looked tired. Now he could truthfully say that he looked even worse than the day he had cast him out of the Thracian army. It wasn't a very pleasant memory, the way Arion acted like he was angry, disgusted with Dean for sympathizing with the North. But he had to be convincing if his plan was to work; the Empire should not suspect a connection between Dean and the kingdom at any cost. Fortunately, the king didn't question his son's decision, just as he'd suspected he would. But knowing that it was all a façade made the whole play hard to watch and Dean found it even harder to play along.
The prince wanted to be strong for her, he realized. He hid how much strength it had cost him to help her; maybe that's why Arion had decided to meet them there. They’re both aware how dangerous it would be if word got out about his whereabouts that night, even worse if someone learned about their engagement. And yet, it had been important to him to know his fiancé was safe. She must have made quite an impression on him, considering he had only seen her once. It was rare for Arion to act rashly, so this girl must mean a great deal to him if he went to such lengths. Hopefully she had been able to ease his worries, if only a little.
His thoughts wandered to Eda. Just because Linoan had been tortured didn't mean Dean had to forgive her family for supporting the rule of Munster’s kings for decades. The misery his sister and him had to live through. Joining the Thracian army had been the only way to escape their poverty. When Dean had finished his military training, he was still too young to join on mercenary jobs. Killing bandits and the likes was no issue but fighting as actual mercenaries in warfare was something the king was very strict about. Travant had made it very clear that he only wanted men over the age of 18 for those jobs and Dean had been 16 at the time. Due to the increase of mercenary offers, he had been stationed as a guard in Thracia castle instead. And that's where he’d first met the quiet boy who's now standing in front of him.
He glances at the duchess. If his lord was able to forgo revenge to break this vicious cycle, perhaps he could too. Even if she was just a means to an end, as long as her safety eased his mind, he would try. He would not sympathize with her over their shared horrible experiences, but he could try to tolerate her. Maybe. Dean had already been branded a traitor anyway, so really, he had nothing left to lose.
"Lady Linoan, I'm afraid we're running out of time," Arion began, "You must return to Tarrah. The Empire will search everywhere for you, the city may be the last place they will look for you."
His inner conflict was apparent. The words betrayed how he felt, no doubt wishing he could stay. But there was no time. The Imperial soldiers would soon realize they'd been deceived and return to the city to send out search parties. It's risky, but Tarrah may be the safest place for her at the time. After all, what sane person would hide in the same city they fled from? At least Arion hoped that’s what the surrogates would be thinking. He was counting on the devotion of the citizens to their duchy.
"Dean is my loyal retainer, you can trust him. He will protect you from any harm."
Linoan glared at the dracoknight. Truth be told, she had every right not to trust him. Throwing the royal letter with Arion’s apology at her was admittedly not the most polite way to deliver it. Nor was it the way he had probably intended. Well, if she hadn't spoken ill of his liege back in that prison, he might have simply handed her the letter dutifully. But no, she had to accuse his lord of letting her rot in there, of not being trustworthy, and that had been the last straw. Not to say the duchess had exactly been kind to Dean, either. Certainly, he would not suddenly treat her differently for her sake, but he would for the sake of his prince.
Arion helped her stand up and guided her back to Dean. She was still wobbly on her feet, and her joy at the thought of getting back on a dragon was written all over her pale face. Anxiously, she turned around.
“Are you leaving already?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. Thracia depends on me.”
Linoan looked to the ground, obviously saddened, and Dean felt his blood boiling. Did she expect the prince to put her over his own kingdom? He had already put himself in enough danger by meeting her here.
"I see," she put her hands together and took a deep breath before looking at him again. "Will I see you again?"
Arion gave her a small smile.
“You will, I promise.”
In Thracia, only fools make promises. The king would not even utter the word, even if he were paid to do so. But the prince does. It's not something he says lightly; it’s how he expresses when something is important to him. And so far, Dean can say that he has never broken a promise he has made.
“Dean, please protect her in my stead.”
His anger at the duchess melted away in an instant and he remembered the oath he made. Crossing his arms, the dracoknight gave him a smirk.
“Don’t worry, milord. I will keep the duchess safe, I promise.”
Arion may look worse than before, but the sight of his brown eyes widening and his expression relaxing, before he sighed with content, was infinitely better than the last one that burned itself into his memory. He would treasure this new imagine until he would see him again, hopefully under happier circumstances. He helped the duchess climb back into the saddle before the dragon stretched its wings and took off.
“Take care.”
Dean grinned at the ever-shrinking figure. The prince should have more confidence in himself. There was no need to worry, he had chosen the right man for the job. His retainer would finish this insane mission and return to him, no doubt Arion would convince the king to allow Dean to rejoin the Thracian army. However, it was a great motivational boost to know that his master cared so much about him. When this was all over, he would definitely tease him about it, and he couldn't wait for that day to come.