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Featuring Lady Amaniel and King Drustan , with a guest appearance by Lord Rafe
By RusticLass and Tigglesaurus
Autumn, Year 760 of the New Age
Glenmore, The Glenwood

"Keep it Secret"

Drustan
Waking up to a world of white outside the Oak, Drustan wondered if snow had come early before he cleared his eyes and realised it was a low cloud of heavy fog. Stepping outside, he could barely see a tail’s length ahead of him, but from the sound of roaring bellows and cracking antlers, that didn’t deter the rutting stags hidden somewhere in the mists. The pale King was content to graze between the winding roots of the New Oak until one voice in particular triggered a low grumble in the stag’s throat. Lord Rafe.

Last time he had beaten the Lord, barely, but he had beaten him nonetheless. The dark Lord had not tried to challenge him again, but that didn’t stop him sniffing after Drustan’s harem. As oxymoronic as it was, as much as he believed he didn't deserve his does, Rafe certainly wasn’t worthy of them.

Huffing, breath billowing and joining the foggy blanket, the pale stage set off through the disconcerting mists in the direction of the irritating Lord’s battle cries. By the time he saw another fawnling, the sound of the fight had moved away but instead of the brown Lord, he found another familiar face. “Lady Amaniel,” he bowed his head in greeting. As the mother of the second Prince, he had been nervous but eagre to tell the doe something now that his resolve was fixed.

“If it’s not an inconvenience, my lady, would you mind accompanying me for a while? I have something of importance to discuss with you,” he gave her a half-smile and gestured into the mists, in a direction that would eventually lead them into the forest.

Amaniel
Fog. The dark lady had always hated fog. With a deep breath, she drew in the cold morning air, puffing it back out in a misty cloud of frozen air. Her gaze followed it as it slowly dissipated, wondering at its almost magical appearance. How Óganach had done this, she could only wonder. Amaniel had never been one for believe until all of the recent events in Glenmore. The tree's regrowth, the appearance of Aillite in Nuala, the birth of her precious son... It was all so much to be thankful for. Never before had she felt so at peace within herself. A smile graced her elegant muzzle as she watched her son, Prince Conan, frolic in the lingering flowers with the other fawns in the near distance, glad that he was still so young and joyful. The power battle had not yet reached him, and she prayed that he could stay this innocent for as long as possible. That little fawn had so much to look forward to in life.

As she stood along the edge of the ring of trees surrounding the Oak, Mani's eyes wandered over the fighting pairs of stags, the obvious sign of the rut season. She could see a few familiar faces in the distance, though none of these she knew very well, other than her siblings and the few princesses. Only one stood out to her overall, Lord Rafe, the dark stag who had rather made a name for himself as King Drustan's largest opponent. While she had never met him herself, there was something about him and his antics in rut that sent a shiver down her spine. He was far, far too brutal, and she felt sorry for any doe that would wind up in his harem and any fawn they might produce.

The grass about the Oak's clearing had been muddied and bloodied, yet another sign of rut. She could not help but feel sad that the beautiful green blankets had to be destroyed because of all of the stags fighting for rights to a mate. The doe scoffed at herself, remembering her own eagerness to enter into her adulthood and have fawns of her own. The past three years had been hard on her, emotionally and physically with the birth of two fawns, the loss of Melark and Alastair's banishment. Her ears flicked backwards at the thoughts, sadness suddenly overcoming the content peacefulness of before. Why was it that they had all left her?

It was with that thought that a voice reached her ears. Amaniel turned, ears and heart lifting. She knew that voice, for it was the same gentle voice that had not two years ago invited her into his harem. The product of their time together was the light of her life, and for this, she would always be grateful. The King was asking to talk, and with a gentle cock of her head, she wondered what about. He seemed rather determined, and her curiosity won her over. "But of course, my King," she replied respectfully, lowering herself in a slight bow. "You are no inconvenience to me at all." She offered him a warm smile, honey brown eyes lighting up with joy. The Lady had spent very little time with him, but, that which she had she cherished. After all, he was the only one who hadn't left her.

Drustan
His smile warmed at her response, and not for the first time he wished he had something less earth shattering to discuss with his does. As his second royal son, Conan was next in line for the throne after Raeghan. While the second Prince was not guaranteed to rule, Drustan knew all too well how the responsibility could land on a second son’s shoulders. The idea of putting more weight and worry on Amaniel and his son he was loathe to do, but there was no other way. Amaniel had to be warned, to know what to expect if the time came that Glenmore was no longer safe for them.

Leading Mani away from the raucous bellow of stags, the fog quickly swallowed them up and soon muffled the sound of the rut as they made it into the trees. “You’re an intelligent doe, Mani, I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that my reign is still seen in a poor light by many royals. I have ears, I can hear the whispering. While one hushed voice is hardly heard, like a single rain drop, a hundred may as well be a roaring waterfall. Ordinarily their voice would have no real power - lies and rumours can be disproved - but something’s changed...”

He paused on their walk, casting his wary gaze around for lurkers in the fog. “My mother told me something that could give credit to every whisper ever said about me. If it’s discovered... Amaniel, if what I’m about to tell you ever tickled the ear of one of my enemies, my crown would surely be taken. You and Conan would be in grave danger. I wish nothing more than to keep you safe, regardless of what you will think of me after, but you must promise me that you won’t think differently of Conan and you’ll keep him safe if I fail you.”

Amaniel
The Lady followed him without hesitation into the rolling billows of fog, her ears turned in his direction. By now, she had noticed something different in his demeanor and the grave tone in his voice, and Mani found that she was slowly growing more and more wary of the sable stag walking beside her. What was he trying to say? The doe's stomach plummeted, her cheer falling with it.

Conan? In danger of what? What was so grave about this secret? Millions of rumors flew through her frantic mind, thinking of all the ridiculous and potentially plausible ones alike. That he was Blackwood, that he was Windborne, that he'd made a deal with some crazy deity or another. She'd never given them a second though, so strong was her faith in the King, but now... now she found herself beginning to doubt, to withdraw in herself.

"My Lord, I would never leave my child." Yes you would, you've done it before... Her stomach clenched at the thought. Her gravest mistake... "Drustan," she said softly, realizing this was the first time she's ever addressed him so plainly. "I-I mean, my King... If I may be frank, whatever you have to tell me, come out with it. I've handled enough hardship in the past to be able to handle more of it in the future. I will do whatever it takes to protect my son." The doe looked up, honey brown eyes boring into his green, light blazing within their warm depths. With a fierce rush of aggressive motherly instinct, she realized she would literally go to any length to protect Conan... any length. "Whatever you're trying to tell me, you may as well come out with it." She spoke softly, far more subdued than previously. Even if this news was to mean that he would keep his distance then so be it. Amaniel could predict no less from stags anymore. All that mattered now was her son, even if she was petrified of what this could mean for him.

Drustan
Seeing the fierce determination in the doe’s eyes, he didn't doubt that the grulla would keep Conan safe. The strength of a mother’s bond with her fawn never ceased to amaze him. “Very well, Amaniel. My mother kept this secret from me until her last breath. The night of the Great Oak’s destruction, she told me that before I was born, Ragnar’s favour was failing. He hadn’t had a fawn since his first, Crown Prince Donnaghán, and despite the fact he was a good King, infertility is a sign of weakness and the herd would pass on the crown if the rumours proved true. To keep Ragnar in favour, to dispell the rumours, she joined his harem and claimed I was his son. I was never meant to take the crown, it was always meant for Donnaghán... Amaniel I’m sorry - King Ragnar was not my father - I’m no King, no Lord, Conan is no Prince...”

He shook his head, lowering his gaze, “If the herd were to find out, they will be howling for my tainted blood to spill, and Conan’s too. You must take him from the herd if the truth comes out - you must be ready for the worst eventuality, Amaniel. I am sorry, more than I can ever say.”

Amaniel
The lady kept her hard gaze upon the stag standing before her, and as he spoke, her stomach sank. Lies. There were so many lies now in Glenmore, weaving such an intricate, yet delicate web, threatening to break with the pluck of one string. Where would all of this take them, in the end? She could not say. . . It was a dangerous road, the one she had now been placed on. But, was it possible that she could see a glimmer of hope at the end of it? The lady carefully considered his words, and what they would mean for her son. She cared naught for what would happen to her, but for Conan. . . his future was now waivering. However unsure it might be, she knew that if anyone would find out this secret, there was a possibility that her boy would no longer be involved with political turmoil. Perhaps he could avoid it now, avoid what she’d seen it do to their King.

In a way, she was torn in two. . . She felt betrayed by another stag, her third in fact, but she was grateful that her son could be given a future away from all this strife. . . And what mattered most to her now was Conan. Her own well-being was unimportant. . . but would it be? If the danger he mentioned was, in fact, immanent, then he could be in danger as well. She wondered, for a while, why he’d continued to take does if he knew of this. . . but perhaps he hadn’t known at the time. For a long while she remained silent, simply staring at the ground under her hooves unblinkingly.

“I do not blame you,” she finally spoke, taking a few quickened steps so she stood before him. “I-I did not expect this in the least, though, who could say anyone anticipated this? I feel betrayed, if I may be so frank. You’ve always been a kind stag, and I have admired that about you for so long. And I do not believe you would ever intentionally endanger us or anyone, for that matter.” The Lady paused to pass a soft sigh, turning her gaze away from him once more. “I can’t deny the difficulty this presents for me, but I can honestly say this presents some form of relief to my worries, while it also raises new ones. Conan may not have to face the hardships you did as a fawn, and perhaps he’d be given the chance to grow up away from the pressures of a crown. I don’t want him to become bitter or jealous because of his position. . . since that is all I can foresee with the politics of this herd and certain royals hatred for anything surrounding the crown.” Amaniel raised her head to meet his eyes once more, their depths a mix of unreadable emotions. “You are forgiven, my King, for I cannot justly hold anything over you, not with my own mistakes in mind. I shan't let Conan be put in danger, and I am more than willing to run away if it comes to this. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to this. Besides, I think there is more than just bloodlines to a King. You’ve proven yourself to us numerous times, Drustan, and I cannot turn my back on those simple facts. Love over law, right?”

Drustan
Staying silent while the doe was pensive, he waited for her verdict. Finally it came, and Drustan lifted his eyes to meet hers for it. He took her step closer as a positive sign, though her expression showed she was not quite ready to forgive him as quickly as the other does he had told. Saddling his ears uncertainly, he listened to her speak.

It was an insight into her that he appreciated. She did not come to rash decisions, and he could see her process the truth heedfully. Her words were fair, and he nodded with them. Honestly he hadn’t expected any of his does to forgive him, and part of him didn’t want them to. He had lied to them, kept things from them, yet they still supported him.

He smiled wryly at her conclusion, and gave an answering nod. “Love over law,” he agreed, lifting his head a touch to be on a level with hers again. “I promise you, no law will stop me from keeping you and Conan safe. I don’t know if or when this will ever come to light, but I’m glad that at least you know now. Lies are topsoil without roots, they may be fertile, but one strong storm can wash them away,” he sighed and took a step closer to the grulla, meeting her dark eyes with his earnest green gaze. “Thank you, Amaniel, for trusting me. I promise there will be no more lies between us...” He reached over and touched his nose to hers. “Anything you want to ask of me, I will answer. I’m sick of living in a world of lies and politics. You, my harem and my fawns are all that matter to me.”

Lord Rafe
Careful to watch where each of his hooves fell, the dark Lord crept through the trees in the wake of the King and one of his multiple Ladies. His head was held low, rack weaving between trees so that he moved without a sound through the barren forest, avoiding the lowest hanging branches so that his presence might go unnoticed. Ever since last rut, Rafe had kept a close eye on the King and his endeavours, and he found it quite curious that he was so keen on speaking to each individual doe that had ever been in his harem. . . There was something going on here. Something that was obviously only meant for a few ears to hear.

Well, he was going to try and find out anyways. The stag was a determined one, that much could easily be seen by many of the things that he did, but there was a special sort of obsession that followed his hatred towards Drustan. If there was so much as a scent or whispered rumor of something going on with the King, then he was hard on the trail like a wolf following the scent of blood. Really, there was little difference between the Lord and a wolf. . . just the absence of a few teeth.

A twig snapped beneath his cloven hooves, and Rafe halted in his tracks, holding his breath and swinging his head from side to side, checking if he had been noticed. A puff of foggy breath signalled his relief. They were still too far ahead of him. It took a few more minutes for Rafe to locate them and find a hiding place suitable for one of his size. There he stood for a long while. None of their words reached his ears, and it rather appeared like they had finished talking. A wave of repulsion twisted his stomach when the Lady snuggled her small face into Drustan’s chest of curly hair. How could any proper royal doe ever allow herself to be touched by him?

Rafe watched the two for a while longer, afraid to try and creep any closer. As he turned to walk away, his gaze lingered a moment longer on the grullo doe. In that moment, a plan formed in his devious mind. That was it. She was a weak link in the chain of protection surrounding him. She was his way in. The Lord finally turned away, creeping back the way he had come. Soon. Soon he would be coming for her. . . and there was nothing she could do to stop him.