Chapter Text
"Val!!" The little girl exclaimed, giggling; his best friend and the girl he was smitten with. He turned to her, dark hair whipping in the breeze, a big smile on his tiny face.
"Yeah??"
"Wanna play tag?" She asked eagerly, her white hair cascading down her shoulders in soft waves. He smiled. He could never say no to her.
"Always."
Deyanira chuckled and then turned over her shoulder.
"Atarah!!" She called. "Come on! Come play tag with us!" At the young princess's call, another youthful girl with auburn-brown curls and dark brown eyes approached.
"Tag? Again? That's what we always play." Atarah grumbled.
"Then what do you suggest?" Deyanira shot back which made Atarah pause. She hadn't thought of an alternative.
"Um.."
"Tag it is then!" The small princess exclaimed. Valerian smiled at her enthusiasm and then placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Tag, you're it."
That was 12 years ago now. Valerian sauntered through the palace halls. He was one of the youngest men to get knighted and he was proud of it. He even had special armor; dark and fashioned in a devilish style, with faces engraved into the steel of his chestplate, and horns on his helmet. His footsteps were heavy and loud; deafening in the otherwise quiet of the palace hall.
"Where are you going, Val?" A sweet voice asked, one he recognized as Atarah. He turned to her and offered a smile. He had left his helmet in his bed today.
"To see the princess. The youngest, not Helaena." He answered. Atarah tilted her head, her auburn-brown curls cascading down her shoulders.
"Would you mind if I joined you on this.. small expedition?" She inquired, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. He nodded and gestured her along.
They walked together in a comfortable silence; Val in his well-polished armor, and Atarah in her form-fitting, velvety, blue dress.
"How did you sleep?" She asked, trying to fill the silence with some smalltalk.
"Well." He answered simply. She nodded and let out a small breath through her teeth. "You?" He finally tacked on, trying to be polite. Deyanira had told him he needs to at least try and be more friendly with people.
"I slept good." She answered. Soon, the both of them came upon the intricate wooden door in the royal wing of the palace and Valerian knocked on it. There was no response. He let several beats pass before he knocked again. Still no response. His heart began to race and his stomach churned as anxiety wormed its way in.
"Princess?" He called to see if she was even behind the door at all.
"Dey?" Atarah called. Still no answer. Valerian knocked on the door one last time before placing his hand on the knob and turning it, opening the intricately carved wooden door and… nobody.
The elaborate room was empty. The marble floors were spotless. Her bed was messy, as if she hadn't made it. The curtains to her window were still drawn shut. But the most important thing he noticed was that the basket that typically held those dragon eggs she had received on her 16th winter were gone. And so was she.
Atarah bounded into the room, looking around and she seemed to notice the same thing he did.
"The eggs," She gasped.
He nodded. Deyanira must've left with the eggs, that was the only reasonable and logical explanation. The only questions were where to, and why? He shook his head. He didn't have time to ponder either of those. He needed to find her. He reached out and took Atarah's wrist.
"I'm going to find her." He stated, leaving no room for protest and his words made the noblewoman freeze.
"Wait, what? No, Val, you can't. King Viserion would be furious!" She exclaimed, shaking her head. He simply nodded.
"I know." He answered and let go of her before pulling away and speed-walking down the palace halls, weaving around the occasional servant. He bounded down the halls and burst into his room, taking the helmet sitting on his bed and putting it onto his head. He raised his chin, determined to find the woman he loved.
"Valerian!" A voice boomed throughout the main hall, stopping Valerian in his tracks.
"My king-" Valerian went to greet, glancing over his shoulder, his feet growing cold and his palms growing sweaty as his stomach stirred with anxiety.
"Where are you going?" King Viserion cut him off, narrowing his eyes at the knight from his place on the throne. "Leaving without permission, Sir?" He cocked an eyebrow.
"No, of course not. I was simply going to fetch water." He swiftly lied and turned to face the king before kneeling. "I do have something else to request though. May I?" He inquired.
King Viserion nodded. "Speak."
"I was searching for Princess Deyanira this morn, but her room is empty, the dragon eggs and her are gone. Vanished without a trace. I wish to search for her, my king." He stated, risking a glance up at the man. King Viserion was frozen for several beats before he slowly nodded.
"Yes.. Yes. Yes, you may. Return with her, Valerian. Or the consequences will not be good." He looked down upon the young knight, icy eyes burning holes through him.
"Of course, my king." He nodded, letting out a soft breath of relief and rising to his feet, his golden gaze beneath the helmet meeting the pale man's cold blue one. "I'll prepare for the journey, and then set off." He informed the king whose hair had gone white with age, of whom simply nodded and waved his hand dismissively.
Valerian shook his head once he was out of sight of the king. He may love that man's daughter, but he definitely bore no love for the man himself. He bounded down the halls with surprising speed for a guy covered in steel armor. He stopped at the door to the barracks and pushed it open, sauntering in and entering his little 'room', which was really just a bed amongst many others with a few gifts from Deyanira. He grabbed his travel bag from underneath his bed and glanced around before walking towards a cabinet in the room that held various supplies.
From the cabinet, he took a long stretch of rope, some spare daggers, a secondary quiver's worth of arrows, a book to pass the time, a water skin, and some rations. His bag was mostly full when he turned to look back at his bed, his golden gaze trained on his favorite small blade. It had been a gift from Deyanira, celebrating when he hit the age of seventeen.
He lifted it up by its unique handle; carved from the bones of one of the first dragons that came to Altathyia with the old Drakkar family. He ran his calloused thumb along the grooves of the off-white bone hilt engraved with gold like his eyes. Finally, he pulled it out of its fine leather sheathe and his attention landed on the actual blade itself. The steel had a strange pattern, akin to that of water, except it was on a blade. It was unique and he loved it. He had named it Ripple.
He inserted the blade back into the sheath and set it on his hip, opposite to his sword. Valerian took a deep breath as if to steady or calm himself before he sauntered out of the barracks, ready to find the missing princess. But, before he could get very far, a small hand grabbed his forearm.
"Val, wait." Atarah ordered, shaking her head. She looked to him with brown eyes that were practically begging him not to leave. He paused and turned to her. "Don't go. Please, I've already lost one friend, I cannot bear to lose another." She pleaded, her gaze searching his unseen face, obscured by his helm. A small smile crossed his lips, though, she could not see it.
"Calm down, Atarah. I'll be back soon." He gave a firm nod and pulled his arm away from her.
"Promise?" She asked, dropping her hands to her sides where her fingers idly played with the sides of her velvety dress.
"Promise."
Valerian stood tall on the ship, watching as a man who was more on the lean side of things hopped off the boat and into the sand of the Raisairands. He narrowed his golden gaze. This young man had been constantly complaining of the storm during the journey. He was weak. The barbarians of the Raisairands would likely cull him. He pulled his devil-fashioned helm off and took a deep breath of the salty, warm air. It was refreshing and wonderful. He watched the young man with dark hair saunter off into the grasslands and finally, Valerian disembarked from the ship.
He glanced in the dark-haired man's direction and then looked around. He knew Deyanira, and he knew what she was doing. She was trying to get those dragon eggs hatched to prove a point. Why the Raisairands, he had little to no idea. Perhaps she thought the heat would hatch them? Or maybe the Raisairandian mythmen could? Regardless, she likely went inland for both heat and barbarians are aplenty there. So, training his gaze inland, he bounded off, a determined set in his jaw. He would find Deyanira, and he would bring her home.