SOREN

One more day, Soren. Just one more, and you can go home to Sungrove to be with Katya and our child.

"We aren't trying to catch unicorns," Lord Leif argued across the table from him. "We need to consolidate power with the other islands. Their lords are too detached from affairs of the mainland."

His fists clenched, though he held his tongue. King Thormar sat on the dragon throne. Another person who shared little.

Soren raised his head when the bickering continued. If anything, a unicorn would prove interesting. His mind wandered to the wooden armies and the war-stick which leaned against the table. It was so simple, the answer to their problems.

Beside him, Gyron leaned back in his chair, drinking from a tankard with heavy gulps.

Near the end, trying to stay out of sight, the young, newly made lord Stigan Tyronai, who toyed with the hem of his shirt.

King Thormar is like to agree with it. Soren rubbed the bridge of his nose, causing Leif to snap his head to him.

"You've been quiet, Lord Pyren," Leif commented.

Gyron coughed into his mug and sent a knowing look at him. Soren shook his head at his friend, then said, "You want an answer to your 'unicorn' problem? The Storm Wardens." He eyed Thormar, who scratched his beard. "Huff at them all you want, Your Grace, they're necessary." At his words all the Councillors widened their eyes, but he went on. "They keep the seas safe. Give them leave to come into your kingdom, there is no need for this detachment. Derelicts haunt our roads everyday, and—"

"I have already said my word on that matter," Thormar retorted, gripping the edge of his seat. "Our Housecarls should be more than enough to beat them back. I won't give more than what is necessary to them. The Storm Wardens have free reign." He got up and pointed at a nearby housecarl. "Send a message to the lords of the islands, and remind them of their loyalties—"

Stumbled footsteps echoed outside of the meeting hall. Soren pressed both hands against the table. Two figures crashed in. Another one of Thormar's housecarls, Roaldel, grasped Gustul, the heir of Haneka, red in the face and out of breath with flyaway auburn hair.

"What is the meaning of this?" King Thormar stood up, nostrils flaring.

Roaldel dropped Gustul to the stone. Gustul straightened himself onto his feet, but Soren resisted the urge to smirk at his wobbly knees. Leif and the other Lords kept their attention trained hard on the table. "He was down near the harbor gallivanting with some of the other young lads, causing trouble for the shipwrights."

He rested his chin in his hand, observing the next moments.

King Thormar glared at his son. "This is the third time today," he barked, and his voice echoed across the stone of the throne room. "Do you never learn, boy?" He spat. "Why must you waste my time and the time of your guard?"

Gustul shifted his feet, and said nothing.

After a few moments, Thormar sighed, shaking his head. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked. "Since you seem so determined to forget yourself, you're in charge of checking on the midwives. They'll deal with you until I'm finished here."

"Oh no," Gustul muttered, but his voice carried. "What a punishment, watching a toddler." He folded his arms, but jumped when Thormar grabbed one of the army pieces. Soren leaned back when he punt it at his son, who dodged.

"The only fitting punishment! You're good for nothing else!" he snapped.

Soren frowned. "Your Grace," he said, causing the Hanekan prince to face him. "He was having a little fun. We've all done it."

"This is not a flyting." Thormar glowered. "I am the king. He is my son. He will hold himself to my standard, or not at all." He tilted his head to Gustul. "Why were you even trampling yourself around Sivaport? I said to work on your swordplay."

Soren rubbed the back of his head when Gustul eyed him. Thormar's nostrils flared again, but as he opened his mouth, the king's messenger rushed in with a scroll.

"What is it?" he asked, voice calmed from his outburst.

"I have a message for Lord Soren Pyren."

Everyone switched their attention from the table to him.

"Go on." Ancients know I need a break.

The messenger fumbled with the scroll, unraveling it. "Lady Katya begs the king's leave for the return of her lord husband," he said with the echoes of stone. "For the heir of Sungrove has been delivered unto the world."

My child.

She went into labor and I wasn't there.

Soren took a deep breath and left his seat of etched wolves. "I beg your leave," he said with a bow to King Thormar. "I'm sure you understand the feeling of the birth and blessing of a child."

Thormar flicked his gaze to Gustul. "Not recently," he mumbled, then sat back down with a wave of his hand.

Soren narrowed his eyes, but brushed it off, a new goal in his mind.

"Before you leave, Lord Pyren," Thormar called before he reached freedom. "Take my son to the west wing."

"As you command, Your Grace." Soren clutched Gustul's shoulder, dragging him out of the meeting hall. He waited for Roaldel to move down the other corridor before continuing to the west wing of the castle.

"Gustul," he questioned, exasperated. "What happened?"

"I was running through your stances," Gustul murmured. "And then..." His face went redder than a tomato. "Have you ever just seen... someone so lovely you can't help but say something? I lost my focus... and then this thing led to that thing." He shrugged his broad shoulders.

Soren snorted, then shook his head. "The true testament of a warrior's focus is his drive to improve. You'll get there, Gustul."

"That's easy for you to say." Gustul pursed his lips. "Father wants me to take on matters of state, how many times must I tell him I'm not interested?" He scowled. "I just... want to enjoy my life and not be bogged down by stately matters. He has his council for that."

"You're his son."

"So?" Gustul tipped his head. "Didn't you fight your brother for your heirship? Should I wait for Reyn to grow up and... happen to lose to him?" He grinned. "Oh... that would make Father right pissed, wouldn't it? I might do that."

Soren held in a breath at Gustul's words, and entered the west wing of the cliff-side castle. "I did fight my brother for heirship, but he also wasn't interested in it either. It is quite possible he let me win."

He released Gustul, who followed him to one of the corner rooms, hidden out of sight. Soren knocked, and a woman's voice spoke, "Come in."

A small window showed the ocean sea of their home. Waves crashed along the high cliffs. A lone crib with a small rotatory hung over it. The midwife stretched out air magick to make it spin, turning to Lord Soren. Exhaustion filled her features. "Lord Pyren."

He pushed Gustul to the front. "I'm supposed to help you," he mumbled, then peeked into the crib. "Don't expect me to do no singing though."

Lord Soren joined him. Oh... where am I going to put my child's crib? I'm sure I could make room in our room somewhere. Somewhere close. He leaned forward to check on the child within while the midwife hovered nearby.

A small babe curled under the covers. So small,  he could crush the tiny child with one hand alone if he wasn't careful. He eyed the midwife. "How is Reyn?"

"He's not nearly as active as I'd like him to be," the midwife whispered, then bowed her head after a moment of fearful hesitation. "He... He's been eating well."

Soren motioned his hands to the child, and the midwife nodded. He reached into the crib, and held the bundled shape in his large arms. Pitch black hair, the mark of a Kolis, so unlike his older brother and father, with auburn locks.

The young Kolis blinked up at him, but then curled without a noise of greeting.

Reyn Kolis, a whole summer spent in this world, and young babes make more noise than he does.

"You said he was eating well?"

"Yes, Lord Soren. Though childbirth took his mother, by the grace of the Ancients, it didn't take him. Many of us were worried he wouldn't last." The midwife frowned deep. "He came so early. We weren't prepared."

No babe should lose their mother.

"I must make the trip to Sungrove." Soren straightened himself out, then nodded at Gustul and placed his baby brother in his arms. "Take care of Reyn. He needs a lot of help and guidance."

Gustul grimaced and adjusted his hold on the baby with the help from the midwife. "He pointed and babbled at me once. I think he was trying to insult my character."

Soren smiled. "Good that he's trying to communicate with you." He nodded to the midwife, then left.

He quickened his pace, for someone else needed him.

The next bells blurred, of pushing his horse from the stables as fast it would go, onto the road between Sivaport and Sungrove, shielded by trees and swelling swaths of land into golden-red leaves. His horse huffed, but he urged it on.

A few days was all I promised to King Thormar. Those few days turned into a fortnight, where he expected me to control Gustul, though I doubt anything could control the lad. How long? A couple days for messages to travel along the main road?

He ignored his exhaustion as he trotted around the forested knolls which held the town of Sungrove, his home. Tiny plots of farmland greeted him protected by outer stone walls. He rushed past the runesmith. He rushed over the river bridge, where a distant water mill churned the harvest.

One of his housecarls, a young man named Eyestin, pointed at him from their tall watch-post as he approached the last line of defense.

"My Lord!" he called as his fellow guard blew a horn. It thundered once for an arrival.

Soren leaped off his horse, with one of the other housecarls grabbing the reins. "Katya?" he asked. "How long has it been? Are her and the child hale and whole?"

"She and the child are well." He waved his hand. "May I do the honor?"

Excitement pushed down his exhaustion as he rushed with Eyestin up the knoll to the giant manor which watched over the heart of the Sungrove lands. Beside it, his mead hall, where the mark of a wolf hung over the door with shields and axes. He rushed to the steps, past the stone wolven guardians and into his home.

He rushed straight for where he had last left Katya. One Housecarl stood at the door, and swept to the side, where Eyestin joined him as Soren fumbled with the handle.

Katya's friend and midwife, Sifa, jumped. "You're back, Soren!"

Katya sat in bed, a wide smile on her face. Her beauty unmatched with anything the forests of Sungrove held. In her arms, a bundle of blankets. "Welcome back, my love," she whispered, then held out the bundle to him. "Come meet your son."

Dare I? He could hold him with one arm alone, but he used both for extra support. Green eyes met him, and widened in innocent wonder. "How long has he—"

"He decided to come a few days after you left," Katya joked with a weary sigh. "He couldn't wait the extra time."

Soren met his son's gaze again.

Hello, Fenrer, my son. Welcome to the world.

All his worries and fears disappeared with the dawn.