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Chapter Text

Barren. Endless, it seemed. Grasslands stretching on indefinitely. It was hard to tell where land stopped and sky began. It was hot too, the sun blazing down on her fair skin. It was a wonder she had not yet burned. On her back, she carried a large basket weaved of the wood of an ash tree, hefty with the weight of four dragon eggs the size of her head. Still, she continued to trek on.

It was scary to be out in the Raisairands all alone with no guards and no friends. Barbarians roamed these wastes— barbarians who worshipped false gods and drank a mother goat's milk— men who dressed themselves in the hides of their prey and the skins of their enemies. Men who would take a woman against her will without a second thought. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to be a woman born into one of those barbaric tribes. Would she be treated the same as a foreigner woman? Defiled and enslaved? Or would she have more of a purpose amongst them? More power? Would she be expected to bear a powerful man's children, just as she is back home? Questions, and ones she didn't want to find the answers to firsthand.

She continued walking, blades of grass poking and brushing at her knees. The sun seemed to burn harshly on her scalp, unprotected from this type of heat. She was not meant for a temperature like this. Her ancestors were born in the north-west— some even say they were born from the gods themselves. She didn't believe that for a moment. If the gods had made her ancestors, they would've blessed them with some sort of immunity to this blazing sun, and because she felt like she was melting, the gods certainly did no such thing.

Eventually, as the sun began to dip lower and the heat of the day faded away, the girl settled beneath a tree with massive roots. She slid the basket off her shoulders and swiped some silky, snow-colored hair behind her pale ears. Her lavender eyes wandered to the basket beside her and she sighed softly. She looked to the slowly darkening sky once again and pulled the loose and soft dress closer to her frame.

It was lonely out here. Suddenly, she was regretting leaving home to try and find a way to hatch the eggs. The Drakkar family was a family supposedly born of the gods. Originally, they lived in a land of magic and wonder called Athyria. One of the first Drakkar men had left home and tamed a dragon. He would henceforth be called the 'Dragon Master'. That dragon laid eggs and thus began the tradition of each member of the family having a dragon. However, after much tragedy, Athyria eventually fell and was left in ruins, the land split into several small and desolate islands somewhere at the edge of the world. Her ancestors had left Athyria before it fell and fled to a bigger land in the east.

The Drakkar family conquered the land, now known as Altathyia, once inhabited by barbarians— much like the ones in the Raisairands— and sent those barbarians running to the island in which this lonely girl now sat. Her family became kings and queens, legends amongst men, gods amongst mortals. For years and years after the settling of Altathyia, dragon eggs would hatch and a young Drakkar would grow up alongside a young dragon, until one day the eggs simply… stopped hatching.

Nobody knew what was going on. With each clutch, they tried everything to hatch the eggs— dragonfire, a dwarven forge, even the hottest flames imaginable— everything, and alas, nothing. There was one egg that hatched, however, the infant dragon never lived past the first week for it was deformed, sickly, and frail. All that was left for the present-day Drakkar family were the nearly-hundred year old dragons. Come Princess Deyanira's birth, there were no dragons left to claim. So, her family gave her four eggs in hopes one dragon would hatch alive.

Thus, Deyanira ran off from home. She knew a traditional method wouldn't work, but she had heard of mythmen in the Raisairands that could do powerful magic, and were worshipped as gods. If these men were that powerful, then perhaps they could hatch dragon eggs too. So she ran to the Raisairands in search of one of these legendary mythmen. So far, her search has turned up unsuccessful, and the four dragon eggs sat unhatched in the basket.

The beautiful princess with silky white hair scooped an egg out of the basket. She couldn't see it. Her vision was poor in both light and dark, blurred with high contrast. But the egg was the size of her head, maybe slightly larger, and it was covered in rock hard scales the color of the night sky and blood. She ran one of her soft, pale fingers along the surface before sighing. Would she ever manage to hatch these eggs? It was beginning to seem hopeless.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree she rested upon. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, the sky had grown darker, and the moon had begun to glow a soft white. However, with the absence of the sun, was also the absence of warmth in this grassland. She could feel the chill seeping into her skin, nestling into her bones as an unwelcome resident. She sighed and set the egg back in the basket before pulling her knees up to her chest.

For several beats, Deyanira sat there in silence, the only sound being the chirping of crickets hidden somewhere in the grass until the grumbling of her stomach broke the peaceful quiet. She furrowed her brows and then pulled her knees tighter to her chest. What was she thinking, coming out here with nothing? She was a princess— and a blind one at that. She had no chance of surviving out here, not without succor. And right now, in this barren grassland, she had none.

She sighed again, something more akin to a whimper this time as hunger clawed at her stomach. She didn't know how people did this— allowed themselves to be this hungry— it seemed impossible to her. Perhaps she wouldn't wake up in the morning. That thought scared her more than anything else. She didn't want to die yet. She hadn't hatched the eggs. She hadn't returned home to show her father that all hope of the restoration of magic was not lost. She hadn't carved herself a place on the throne. She hadn't etched her name in history. She couldn't give up, not yet. Not until she had done what she wanted to.

With effort, Deyanira pushed herself up and grabbed the basket of dragon eggs, slinging it back over her shoulders and beginning to trek once more despite the cold absence of the sun. She needed food. With how she felt, she may not live to see another day if she couldn't get a repast in her system, or, for that matter, water. So, sauntering through the night blindly, she guided herself based solely on smell and sound.

She crouched by a steadily moving stream, cupping her hands and dipping them into the cold water. She brought her hands to her mouth and sipped the stream water desperately. It made her body feel alive again, and refreshed. She quickly dipped her hands back in and pulled them out, drinking more and drinking messy until the front of her dress was soaked through with water, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She was sated— at least, in terms of thirst. Food was still an issue, but she was already feeling better by leagues, the lightheadedness of earlier long gone.

She remained crouched by the stream for a few moments longer before she heard a soft scuttling and squeaking. A mouse! Food! She slipped the basket off her shoulders to lighten her load and listened for the mouse again, getting in a position ready to lunge. She listened, and listened as it drew closer and closer, as if unaware of her presence, then, she pounced with all the gracefulness of an elephant and landed in the general vicinity of the mouse. Or so she thought. She was wrong, and she heard it squeak in alarm before scuttling away.

Both dirt and mud caked her arms, torso, and even some of her silky white hair— she let out a sigh of frustration. She pushed herself back up and grumbled, shaking her head. Gods be damned. Maybe tomorrow she could find something to eat, but for now, she was tired, and satiated enough on water to rest for at least a little while. She scooped the basket of dragon eggs up once more and slung it on her shoulder. For a while, she trekked, until she eventually reached her tree from earlier.

Deyanira settled underneath the tree once again, shifting the basket down onto the ground and wrapping an arm around the weaved wood, leaning on it like it was some sort of pillow. She laid her head upon it and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the chill of the night that had carved its way into her bones.

Chapter Text

Chatter rang throughout the tavern. A man cloaked in darkness and fabric sipped from his mug, the ale going hard down his throat. His deep brown eyes flickered around the people gathered at tables, laughing and chattering boisterously. His gaze finally landed on the announcement board hung in a forgotten corner of the room and he rose to his feet, leaving his bag and drink to mark his spot. He stood in front of the board for several beats, looking over all the announcements and posters.

Girl missing in well! One read.

Amethyst to Lee Sander in Oldtown, Crown's Rest for 50 gold! Another read.

Nothing interesting until he finally landed on one;

WANTED: Esmarine. Court Wizard's Assistant. Dead OR Alive. 600 gold reward. Beside that one, was another.

MISSING: Princess Deyanira, Third to the Throne. 10,000 gold reward for whoever returns her alive.

He tore both papers off the board and looked them over. 600 would get him good meals for a few months. That was worth it, and it was easier because it was a dead or alive contract. 10,000 was certainly worth it. He could probably buy himself a whole field's worth of land and afford farm animals with that.

The man stalked back to his table and sat down, looking over the two posters for any further information. Esmarine's poster had what was presumably her appearance drawn on it; a masked woman. But the mask was unique. It would be easy to identify her. On Deyanira's poster, a picture of her was drawn; a beautiful young woman with long hair and a symmetrical face. He knew of Deyanira, the blind princess who had somehow survived to reach 17 winters. Esmarine, however, he had never once heard of. He knew that the court wizard had a little assistant running around, but he never figured it was a full grown woman. He thought that it would've been some kid forced to do labor. Turns out, he was incorrect.

He hummed in deep thought, glancing around the tavern again before he raised up his bag and shoved the posters in it. He rose to his feet and moved to saunter out of the noisy inn, until—

"Oi, Perseus, where do you think you're going without paying?" The bartender, Arkzam, called. He hated this man. Perseus turned around, his dark eyes scanning the man before he tossed a silver piece to him.

"Consider the rest an I-O-U." He called over his shoulder and pushed out of the inn doors.

"What? No! This is not an I-O-U situation!" Arkzam called, infuriated that Perseus had yet again evaded his ever-growing bar bill. However, there was no response from Perseus for he was already long gone, striding down the streets of Crown's Rest.

"Excuse me, sir, have you seen either of these women?" Perseus asked one man, a guard at the gates of Crown's Rest. The knight leaned in closer to the posters and then shook his head.

"No, sorry, I've not seen either of those maidens." He shook his head then paused. "But I do know the princess. She left about two weeks ago. If I'm right, she was last seen in the quaint town of Eastport."

That new information caused Perseus to grin. He nodded.

"Thank you. Good day, sir!" He called, bounding out of the gates, his feet hammering over the hard cobblestone that marked the path. Eastport.. He was in Crown's Rest now, which was a nine-day journey northwest of Eastport. He glanced up to the moon and sighed. It was much harder to tell direction based on the moon rather than the sun.

He trekked along the road for a while longer before moving to the side, pulling some firewood from his bag. After one incident on a rainy night, Perseus decided he would never be caught again without dry wood for a fire somewhere. He placed two of the small logs on the ground and after a little effort, he got a small flame started. He sat on the grass and sighed softly. Once the sun rose, he would begin his journey to Eastport.

"Pardon me, miss, but have you seen these either of these fair maidens?" He asked a kind-looking woman in Eastport. The woman stared at him for several moments as if he had said the most atrocious thing and had three heads. He sucked in a breath and waited for a response.

"No." She answered after a few beats. He exhaled a defeated sigh and nodded in dissatisfaction.

"Okay." He backed away from her and glanced at the posters in mild confusion, then to her. She seemed.. judgemental. He silently revoked his earlier thought of her being kind. She looked at him like he was a war criminal or something. For the record, he was not. He may be wanted in 4 different counties of Altathyia, but he was not a war criminal.

He shook his head and stalked along the bustling, crowded streets of Eastport. It was a horrendous sea-town. It reeked of seaweed, rotten fish, and desperation. The horrific scents disgusted him to no end. All the buildings were seemingly squished together, and there wasn't much light other than that of the moon, the occasional brazier, and a few guards walking by with torches.

He opened the doors to a shitty little tavern in the middle of some slummy part of Eastport and looked around, silently scanning for someone who might know anything about either woman he was searching for. A loud shout echoed from elsewhere in the tavern and he moved to investigate the source of the sound. An aged man, probably in his mid 40s with a thick black beard, an eyepatch, and a hideous scowl on his face. This was a sailor if he had ever seen one. Or a pirate. It could go either way, really.

He approached the man and cleared his throat.

"Apologies, but have you seen either of these ladies?" He asked, showing the man both posters.

The pirate-sailor-guy narrowed his one eye and leaned closer to get a good look at both posters before nodding.

"Aye. I seen both of 'em. Why?" He cocked his head to the side, like a parrot.

"I'm searching for them. Their return to Crown's Rest promises me gold aplenty."

"So you askin' for directions, boy?" The man asked and Perseus nodded in response. The pirate-sailor-man grinned at this and nodded. "I'll take you to 'em. Or at least, I'll take you where I took 'em." He smirked almost proudly.

"And where's that?" Perseus inquired, rolling the posters back up into his bag.

"The Raisairands."

"We need to get to the nearest port!" Perseus called over the boom of thunder and the crash of waves against the ship.

"Bah! Cowering away from a storm is for babes and women!" The man— Sea-Seer, apparently— exclaimed as he aggressively turned the ship wheel. Perseus furrowed his brows at the insanity of this man.

"What. Pardon me, but-" He was cut off by Sea-Seer.

"You're pardoned, boy. Now get to work! You're part of this crew too, 'cause I let you on my ship for free!" Gods, help me. Perseus glanced to the stormy sky for a moment.

"You offered to give me a free ride to the Raisairands, that's not how it works!" Perseus shot back, but did it anyways, helping to hoist the sails.

"Bah, sure it is, boy! Ain't no rules out here in the big blue!" Sea-Seer shouted back. Perseus sighed and shook his head. It was useless arguing with this psycho. Thunder boomed in the sky and shook the sea as waves crashed violently against the ship, causing Perseus to lose his footing and stumble. He slipped down the wet deck and hit the side of the ship, the hard wood taking the wind right out of him. He laid there for a moment, taking in a desperate breath of air as lightning split the sky, turning the whole world white for a moment. Get me off this damned boat, he internally pleaded.

"Captain!" One of Sea-Seer's men called, jogging up to the man. "We can't sail through this, the storm is too violent!" he exclaimed and shook his head. "The boy was right!" This made Sea-Seer glare at the other man.

"Nonsense! We can sail through this, we been sailing the last 20 years! This is nothing! It's not even a god's wrath!" Sea-Seer hissed. Perseus wheezed, still limp on the deck before he slowly pushed himself up, his ribs screaming protest. He inhaled through his teeth and wobbly stood. This Sea-Seer guy was going to get him killed.

The storm cleared a while of crashing tides and booming thunder later. Perseus looked up to the sky. Beautiful and light blue; illuminated with the warm sun and clouds that were slowly moving out. It was a welcome change from earlier that day. He laid on the soaking wet deck, he himself was sopping wet with seawater, his hair clinging to his face and his clothes sticking to his body. He admired the sky. It felt as if the gods themselves had broken the storm, and now, he was free and safe. A soft sigh of relief left him. Holy shit I'm alive.. he thought.

"Land! Land ahoy!" One man shouted, pointing to the form of land in the distance. Perseus sat up suddenly and looked to the island. His chocolate-colored gaze lit up and a grin tugged at his lips. Finally. He pushed himself to his feet and made his way up to the captain.

"That's the Raisairands, right?" Perseus asked, glancing to Sea-Seer. The older man nodded and smirked a little.

"Correct, boy. Your destination. The Raisairands." The island grew increasingly closer and after a few minutes, he could make out the grass of the land and the tall, thin trees. There were no docks here. The barbarians of the Raisairands did not ride on ships. The boat he was on crashed into the land, skidding along the sand of the shore before coming to a halt.

Perseus took in the outstanding beauty of the grasslands with awe. He had been many places before, but never here. He glanced around before watching the crew of the ship place a plank off the side of the ship in order to get off. He made his way onto the plank and walked down it, leaping off the last bit and landing in the soft sands of the eastern shore of the Raisairands, his dark hair dancing in the warm winds.

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.

Chapter Text

"Esmarine, please fetch the alchemical supplies necessary for a tracking brew." The older man dressed in layers of deep blue and black robes ordered. Esmarine nodded, moving swiftly across the old lab chamber with creaky wooden floors to find the ingredients. A tracking brew…what could he need that for? Never mind. It's best not to ask questions, she decided. Esmarine moved through the chamber as fluidly and calmly as water, just as the old wizard had taught her.

She pulled a pouch of herbs from a cupboard, then a jar of water and a dead dragonfly from a bowl, handing it to the robed man. He nodded thanks and mixed them together. Esmarine stood there in cold silence, just like usual, her silver hair cascading down her shoulders and her blue eyes shimmering in the light like ice.

"Anything else, sir?" She asked, her gaze narrowed at the man with icy eyes similar to hers.

"No." He answered then paused and inhaled sharply. "Actually…" He began, "I correct my statement. There is something I need you to do. The princess, Deyanira. She's run off from home. I want you to find her, retrieve her, and bring her back." He ordered, his ice-colored gaze sharp and cold as he focused on Esmarine. She gave a nod of understanding.

"Of course. I'll prepare immediately." She told him, folding her hands behind her back and lowering her head in respect. 

"Oh, and Esmarine?" The older man asked, his focus back on the brew he was making.

"Yes, sir?" She asked, studying him.

"Be safe." He told her. "Should you die, I'll have neither an apprentice, nor a daughter." Her gaze softened and she paused for several beats before she smiled.

"I will, father." She promised softly. She was always well-behaved, a good girl. The old man nodded and shooed her off with a wave of his hand. She sauntered off quietly, her heeled boots making hardly a sound against the hard wood of the floor. It was rare that she got a soft moment with her father, and whenever she did they left her a little fuzzy on the insides— happy. It was rare she let herself feel that way. She had sworn against it when she became her father's disciple. Most people didn't even know of her existence, let alone that King Viserion's Court Wizard had a daughter.

She sauntered down a narrow stairwell that reeked of wet stone and old wood, a torch in her hand. She came to a dark door made of the wood of a walnut tree and she opened it. Her room was small and nothing special— a chamber of stones without windows, the only lighting being the brazier of Forever-Fire in the corner— it looked almost sad to anyone who had something grander.

She approached her lone bed pushed into a corner of the room and lifted her mattress off the frame. From below it, she pulled a mask made of steel. It was designed like layers of a knight's plate and she ran her fingers along the grooves that marked a new layer of steel. Hiding within one of these grooves were two narrow eye holes to see out of. She pressed the mask to her face and fitted the strap around her head. 

Esmarine pulled her cloak off the hook that held it and wrapped it around her shoulders, fixing the clasp and then pulling the hood up so the color of her silver hair remained unseen. She gathered her weapons and alchemical supplies— food and a water flask too— stuffing it all into her traveling bag and slinging it over her shoulder. 

Now, she began her search for the princess.

For days, Esmarine wandered. The princess could be anywhere. She had all of Altathyia, the Raisairands, the Archipelago of Tal'Dor, and Dragon's Isle to search. She had no clues to where the princess went. At the present moment, Esmarine was wandering through a small and desolate farming town that marked the way between Crown's Rest and the eastern coast. She held her metallic mask in hand, her icy eyes flickering around.

It reeked of hay, manure, and sweat, causing Esmarine to wrinkle her nose in disgust at the scent. She sauntered by an older farmer, who shot her a sideways glance as they passed each other. She was familiar with these looks of judgment by now, and she didn't mind them as much as she used to. A soft sigh left her and she continued walking along the worn cobbles that marked the path before she spotted a young woman who was staring eastward. Esmarine approached the woman.

"Excuse me, miss." She smiled, slipping her mask in her bag and folding her hands in front of her. "Are you okay?" She asked. The young woman looked to Esmarine with tired brown eyes and messy, dirty blonde hair.

"Yes." She answered and sighed. "I just.. am thinking of this girl I saw a few days ago. She had this white hair and pretty lilac eyes." She explained. Esmarine's icy gaze lit up at that. 

"Where did she go?" She asked, excitement seeping into her voice just the slightest.

"That way. Eastport." She stated, pointing east. "The girl wanted passage to the Raisairands. Why she would want to go to that heap of hay, I've got no clue." She shook her head. Esmarine nodded.

"Then I'll be headed that way too."

"You're after the girl?" The woman asked. She nodded in response.

"Yes. She's one of the princesses, and third to the throne." Esmarine explained.

"Princess Deyanira?" The young woman's brows furrowed. "Why would she leave home? She's royalty, she has it well. She has all she could want in her big palace, all she could eat too." Esmarine simply nodded her agreement.

"I know. I don't know why she left. No one I know would leave their spoils behind that easily." She began stalking east down the road. "Thank you for the information!" She called over her shoulder, flashing the young woman a kind smile— a rare sight on Esmarine's usually cold face.

Esmarine sauntered through the sloppy little sea-town that was Eastport, her metallic mask fixed on her face once more. She glanced to and fro, searching for a ship that might be able to take her to the Raisairands. Her sharp blue gaze finally landed on a large ship with red and black boards and blood red sails. She approached the ship that was docked.

"Well aren't you a pretty thing." A man leered at her as she passed him. She furrowed her brows and turned to him. 

"And you're not." She fired back. The man was actually quite handsome with dark curls and emerald eyes.

"Ouch. No need to be rude, sweetheart. It was just a compliment." The man cocked his head to the side slightly in an almost menacing manner. If Esmarine didn't have magic, she'd probably be terrified.

"Who are you?" She asked, though the question sounded more like a demand because of how harsh her tone was.

"You first." The man nodded his head at her. She scowled beneath the mask. "A masked woman like you ought to be beautiful underneath. No woman would cover up her face unless she was fearful of being ogled." 

"I thought covering your face meant you were ugly." She raised an eyebrow. He scoffed.

"Usually, yeah, but you got that walk and style about you that says you're pretty underneath. So let's see." He grinned in a sinister manner, reaching for her metallic mask. She narrowed her eyes, taking a step back and swatting his hand away.

"Don't you dare touch me." She hissed, holding up her hand with frost seeping out of her fingertips. The man let out a whistle and while he was distracted, she coated her hand in a layer of rock hard ice.

"So you're a sorceress, eh? All the bet—" He was promptly cut off by Esmarine's ice-covered fist colliding with his face, knocking him prone to the ground. She spat at him.

"You disrespect any woman like that again and I'll make sure you don't see the sun ever again." She warned, her tone low and dangerous. The man's cheek was blooming a bright red and a bit of blood trickled from his nose. His emerald eyes flickered up to her, shimmering with fright and he nodded shakily.

"Y-yes, miss." He stammered, scrambling away from her. She watched him crawl off. Smirking proudly beneath her metallic mask, she crossed her arms and looked back to the large ship. Warily, she stalked towards it, silently searching for a captain of sorts. 

To no avail, though. She found no captains, and no one to bring her to the Raisairands. In disappointment, Esmarine sighed and walked off, her head held low.

"Whatchu think your doin'?!" A man exclaimed in the distance. She looked up to the scene about thirty feet away. An older man, roughly in his 40s with a dark beard and an eyepatch covering one of his eyes. She tilted her head slightly. That man looked like a pirate, or perhaps a sailor. That man could take her to the Raisairands. A smirk crossed her pale face and darted towards the man.

"Sir!" She exclaimed, placing her hand on the man's shoulder. The man whipped around, staring Esmarine down with his single, beady eye. His brows were furrowed and his face wrinkled into a heated sneer. She pulled away, raising both her hands in surrender. "I only wish to talk." Esmarine's words seemed to calm the man a little bit.

"About what, girl?" He nearly demanded, his voice still simmering with anger.

"Passage. Are you a sailor?" She inquired, remaining calm so that ideally, this older man would also calm.

"Aye, that I am." He confirmed, raising an eyebrow. "Where do you want passage to?"

"The Raisairands, if possible." She answered.

"It'll cost ya." He stated, crossing his arms.

"I know." She stuck her pale hand into her bag, fishing out a fistful of gold. "Will this be enough?"

He seemed to observe the gold for a moment before nodding and taking it from her. 

"Aye. This way, lass." He gestured her along, counting the gold and filing it into his pockets. Esmarine quietly followed him, silent as per usual. He lead her onto a large ship with worn paint and a flag adorned with a chimera. 

"A chimera?" She inquired, her icy gaze fixed on the sail.

"Aye."

"What's the story behind that?"

"Not one you need to hear." He fired, fixing her with a firm glare with his singular eye. She sighed softly and dropped it. "So, you want to go to the Raisairands, girl?" She nodded confirmation.

"Yes." 

"It'll be a long sail. We leave port this eve. Prep, get here by sunset." He ordered. Esmarine glared at him from under her metallic mask but didn't say a thing, merely nodding and sauntering off for the time being.

Days passed on the noisy and chaotic ship, but the journey was peaceful weather-wise, fortunately. No storms, not even a cloudy day. By the end of the journey, Esmarine's skin had grown blistering red with sunburn. She leaped off the ship, her feet landing softly in the sand of the Raisairandian beaches. Her clothes scratched against her burns and she let out a soft hiss of pain. She could care for them later. For now, she had a task and she had to get started on.

Pushing onward, Esmarine made her way off the beach and into the tall, dry grass. Sweat beaded at her brow and slowly ran down her face and the curves of her cheeks. Reaching up, she took off her mask, taking a desperate breath of the warm air. It was so hot, she could barely breathe. Focus, she internally scolded herself.

She furrowed her brows and put a fair bit of distance between herself and the ship she had come on. Soon, she stopped and dug in her bag before bringing forth a veil and a coal. 

"Fonis." She stated and the coal in her hand burst into flames, initially blue, but they faded to the usual orangey-yellow. Her icy gaze turned to the veil. She had taken it from Princess Deyanira's room, and now, she would use it to find her. She brought the flame to the fabric and let it ignite.

"Inreima fokumir, fatohri." She murmured, watching as the cloth burnt to cinders and the flame faded away. She closed her eyes for a beat and then opened them again, her icy eyes glowing and before her, a path of footsteps was revealed. A smirk tugged at her lips and she bounded after the footsteps, following them. She would find the princess, and she would bring her home.