Kingsley Family/Alyssa/Across the Sea
This story details Alyssa's perspective during the Island War between Perdan and Nivemus. This story began in July of 2020 and is on-going.
Contents
Fair Winds
(7/5/2020)
The ships setting sail towards the horizon looked like the toys, or the models Kay used to have set up in his personal chambers. White sails on strong sturdy masts at the top of which flew the green and white banners of Fontaine and the black and Gold of Perdan. The Northwind blew casting the ships boldly towards the shrouded mountain in the distance, barely visible from Palace Keep.
Alyssa watched them from one of the castle's balcony. What horrors are they sailing into... Sir Graham interrupted her thoughts, flanked by two Lion Guards their black and yellow plumes standing proud and tall atop their helms. Alyssa stood stiffly at ease, coolly watching them salute and about-face, to return to their post. Her shoulders lowered slightly turning back towards the balcony, leaning against the elegant stone railing as the clanking armoured steps of Sir Graham Goldenfields approached and the elderly knight took up a position at her side.
"My Lady." He said his usual coarse voice softened slightly.
"Sir." She acknowledged dispassionately, still watching the ships sail out towards the horizon. A lecture, surely. She considered. He often did, especially since Kay's passing. You are not him, and you are not my father.
He hesitated a moment and she saw his concern out of the corner of her eye. She sighed. I am too hard on him... She considered. She knew he only wanted to support her. That was never something she felt comfortable with, but she had made a promise.
"It will not happen again. I will be better for you, for myself, and for Perdan. I will hold these ghosts back. I am armed now with knowledge, and with your love."
I cannot let myself do this alone. She reminded herself, as both her and her loyal knight opened their mouths to speak at the same time.
"I am wor-" "Are you we-"
Sir Graham bowed in deference, while Alyssa cringed and fiddled with her hands awkwardly, before finally resting her left casually on the sword on her hip, her toe tapping lightly in her boot instead. "I am worried."
The old knight frowned and nodded. "Aye. I figured as much, my lady." Alyssa cast her gaze back over the sea, glancing occasionally over at her knight and thumbing the pommel of her her sword.
"Those ships." She said solemnly. "They aren't coming back. Not most of them."
"You don't know that. "
She gave him a stern look. "Falsehoods do not suit you, Sir. We've both seen the reports. It will be a slaughter, even if we triumph."
"But if we triumph-"
"If we triumph," Alyssa began her voice raising slightly, "those ships will still come back empty! It is a war I have caused." I cannot let myself do this alone. She exhaled and continued softer. "In a war, people on the winning side still die."
"And they will be honoured." Graham noted with a grim hint. "But it will be worth it. Those people up there, they need someone to save them, to give them a better life."
"And it is I who decides what their lives should be worth?"
"Yes. They give that power to you, my lady. And they do it because they believe in you, and every term they re-affirm it."
"And if we fail?"
Graham gave her a confused look. "You won't."
"A thousand men may die on the shores of Kalmar Island and we may still be beaten back."
The old Sir shook his head. "We both know this war will be longer than one battle."
Alyssa grimaced. That's what worries me.
"You saved this realm, Lady Alyssa. You will do the same for Omsk." He turned to her, his face old and weathered, scarred and maimed horrifically by the last war. Will you survive this one, my old friend? His eyes however shined with a spirit far younger. "This is the right choice."
Alyssa took a deep breath and nodded. It didn't feel like the right choice. The choice for war, how could it be the right choice? But Alyssa was familiar with this doubt. To often no choice felt like the right one. But she was here, Perdan had survived and she had even found some happiness. She hoped he was right. A breeze whirled northward across the balcony. "Fair winds." She muttered
Dark Isle
7/22/2020
Cal Reed held his hand out on the dock towards the gangplank of the Shady Goat. Alyssa ignored it, stepping lithely and briskly down the plank onto the solid sturdy dock Lord Crail had constructed upon his arrival on the Isle of Chaos some time ago. Alyssa was drained from the voyage, she spent most of the time in her cabin vomiting from the uneasy sway of the ship along the choppy waters of Kalmar Bay. One of her longest-tenured lieutenants, a dark-haired man with a morbid sense of humor called Gordon had tried to offer her encouragement, though to mixed success. "Don't worry m'lady, eventually you'll run out of ralph to ralph." was not exactly the comfort she could have used.
But they had arrived and she felt the slightest bit better already, though only slight, and still wearing her typical weary stoicism as she stepped off the pier onto the ashy-sand of the Isle of Chaos's beaches. The sandy mix of damp coarse sand and ash scrunched beneath her boot, a somber gray mix that matched the overcast sky above. A grim omen. Alyssa thought with a little shudder from the weariness and the cool ocean breeze that blew across the lonely island. She pulled her jacket, the leather warm with her own heat closer and continued up the beach toward the hovels set up in a surprisingly sturdy-looking shantytown that Captain Cal had mentioned was called Hynesberg, named after an old Lord who restored the island following a dreadful war that once took place here.
Looming over the little village was the fabled temple itself, a huge black stone castle with large vaulted eaves, and buttresses flying from the side. A sturdy keep stood in the rear of the castle's courtyard, made from the same black stone as the heavy walls that surrounded it. The place looked... sinister to Alyssa but she was too tired to form any opinion more thought out than that. Behind the keep, the enormous volcano stood like a titanic monolith, watching over the puny folk who lived below. Alyssa decided to return her gaze to the broken cobblestone road ahead.
As she stepped through the temple gate, Captain at her side, she grimaced at the old stone statues that guarded the courtyard and the denizens who bustled beneath it. Most were of warriors of long past, and long forgotten. Some strange and fierce-looking monsters. One she did recognize as a common representation of The Divine, the holy power her uncle and aunt had always told her about from their holy Humanist texts. Most of the statues were weathered and faded from the rain or the ash that fell softly around her as she walked purposefully through the courtyard towards the keep set into the mountain.
The Majordomo did not smile at her when she approached, though neither did she. His nose was crooked and his long black hair matched the stones of the castle keep, his face unscrutable and his lip thin. Cal kept his typical jolly demeanor until he realized no one seemed to share it, after which he just silently stroked his big bushy beard. The Majordomo did bow at the least before turning with a single "This way."
The walked through long and winding halls which felt seemingly too narrow, the lantern lights glowing eerily against the pitch black stone of the keep's walls, the windows a frosted glass let in little light from the darkening skies outside. "Is Lord Crail available." She asked shortly as she followed the man to where her quarters would be.
"He was in a meeting when you arrived. If it please him he may see you later."
Just as well. Alyssa thought. She felt she might be too tired to sit through any meeting longer than some introductions and her stomach was only just beginning to settle. Eventually they came to a thick oak door and the dark-haired servant pulled out a key and handed it to her. "Your... lady I believe has already settled in though I believe she said she was going off... 'to explore.' " His tone was dour but reserved and Alyssa did not press him for further information. Her heart warmed in the chilly stone hallway at his description of her love's typical curiosity and love for experience.
"If you see her, please send her to me."
He nodded once and turned to Cal. "Captain. Allow me." He said dryly and continued off down the hall. Cal gave a salute and followed, leaving Aly alone. She entered the room, a fairly bare affair but the bed seemed soft as she pulled off the leather jacket and undid her belt, setting the sword it held by the bed as she collapsed backwards into the soft downy sheets.
The War to Come
(8/3/2020)
The War to Come
Content: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Emotional Trauma
Alyssa stabbed the soldier in the throat, his blood running thick and red down her sword. He gurgled something to her, but she did not stop to watch it as she ran past him, bloody sword in hand, her white cape billowing behind her as she ran through the battlefield. A javelin flew past her cheek as she jumped over a fallen soldier, stumbling slightly as she did. A man with a phoenix helm roared at her as he charged towards her. She twirled out of the way and brought her sword across his back. His pained moan joined the other horrific shouts and cries, his blood joined the rest soaking the battlefield beneath them. He fell to the ground, spasming alongside the other dead and dying. Alyssa stood over him and plunged her sword into the back of his neck. Mercy. She found herself thinking. Then she killed someone else and gulped taking a look around to survey the dire situation her and her army found herself in.
A mace struck her in the side of the head. At least she thought it was a mace, she wasn't sure, but her head rang inside her helmet. A figure stood over, about to drop the heavy iron cudgel onto her head. Then a spear pierced through his chest and his blood coating her. Her head rang inside her helmet as her attacker collapsed into the blood-soaked moors. The gentle face of Captain Tanner took his place, wiping his spear clean and smiled at her, though he was missing both his eyes and his chest was split open. Still, he smiled kindly at her and she reached her hand out trying to stand back up "T-" Was all she got out before a horseman rode past and shoved his saber into Tanner's chest. He vanished into a puff of black smoke as a Northern footman drove his spear into her side. The pain felt real.
But it wasn't as she woke up with a gasp in the Imperatrix's Tower, sweating, tears running down her face. Her eyes danced around the moonlit room, gathering her bearings. The room was quiet, her two loves lay on the other side of the bed, Isana covered up by blankets facing the window, with Shadow curled up at the foot of the bed. He looked up at her with some sleepy confusion. She just turned away and pulled her knees to her chest, her sobs silent so as not to wake the woman on the other side of the bed. Tomorrow there will be more, but it will be me leading the charge. She felt sick. Was this really honour? Was this the right thing? She had supposed it was, but it still didn't feel right. At least sometimes. Right now it didn't.
She gently slid out of bed still trembling and slipped on her dressing gown, taking a quick peek at her partner to be sure she hadn't woken. She brought her hands to her face trying to slow her breathing then picked up the sword by her bedside and crossed the chamber to the door. Slipping out she took a quick step across the corridor to the study across from her bedchamber. Entering and closing the door quietly behind her she leaned against the cool oak door and slid down until she sad on the stone floor clutching the sword and wiping the tears from her eyes. The scenes of war and death flashed through her mind. She watched herself run through a young boy in padded armor and a rusty spear. She felt the battle axe hack into her side and she watched a bolt fly through the slit in old Graham Goldenfield's helmet. Tis I who will bring this to the North. I am the bringer of death, upon a pale horse. She rubbed the bridge of her nose again, still clutching her scabbard tightly. It felt like an hour at least as she softly recited through the list in her to herself again. The just causes the king had brought before the North.
Eventually she had convinced herself again and the tears had mostly dried, her breathing slowed. She rose and returned to bed slipping in gently under the covers before realizing she still clutched her sword tightly as a child would their stuffed protector. She looked over at Isana on her side, the way Alyssa had left her and back down at the scabbard before gently returning it to its place beside the bed. Cautiously she turned back to Isana and gently reached out, holding her hand against her shoulder. Her mind thought of war and honour and love as she lay there sleepless. At some point, Isana had rolled over in her sleep, Alyssa taking the opportunity to curl up close, her head under her partner's chin. It was warm. And she felt a small wave of comfort. Maybe there was an hour that she slept, but she could not tell, the war in her head playing to prepare her for the war to come.
Falling
9/20/2020
The birds circled overhead as mist poured over the mountaintops and into the valley. Their caws were drowned out by the shouts and screams of dying people, butchering each other in the melee below. Alyssa sat mounted on one of the crows, flying above the battle. A sea of violence stretched before her in all directions, across the rolling hills, into the forests and through the plainslands. Smoke from distant fires rose on the horizon and the smell of blood rose all the way up to the skies above.
Alyssa watched the fighting below. It never stopped. The fallen bodies seemed to sink into the ground just as new ones fell on top of them, the writhing of the wounded vanishing under the crush of a metal boot. Then she fell. Or, she was dropped. She watched the crow shrink into the vast above as she came closer and closer to the ground, she felt the pain of everything as she landed, crushing whoever lay beneath her, slipping into the earth as she coughed up blood. She began to stand when a closed-helmed soldier pounced upon her. He drew a knife and stabbed it into her chest as she screamed from the familiar sting of blade into flesh. He pulled it out and prepared to stab again as she knocked the dagger away and tried to kick him off of her to no avail.
They struggled as the dead and dying piled around them, screams of wounded men cut off as they sunk beneath the bloody field. Finally Alyssa reached for the knife that still lay just a foot away and drove it into the soldier's neck. His blood seeped out from under his helmet, onto her, mixing with her own and the rest of the visceral soup that he rolled over into before being swallowed by the earth below. Alyssa felt the warmth of blood falling from her chest and the warmth of tears falling from her eyes as she looked up to see the crow still circling overhead. That sight vanished as fallen bodies fell over onto her. All she could do was curl up and close her eyes waiting for the ground to swallow her.
Instead she opened them to see her travelling desk on the other side of the tent. Nearby her trunk, with most of her travelling clothes, a little shelf on which sat a mostly empty bottle of wine and a few neat stacks of paper, and a few other sparse practicalities. She was clutching her hands to her chest as she awoke, her eyes wet from tears, and her breath short and heavy. She rolled over gently to see the sleeping form of Isana Everlight curled up on her side of the bed, peaceful and still, and without thinking reached out to softly place the back of her hand against her partner's back. Real. She quickly pulled her hand back, hoping she hadn't woken the woman next to her. She gulped and tried to calm her breathing, quietly climbing out of their bed and grabbing the shirt and breeches she had left neatly folded on top of her trunk.
Watching the sleeping knight as she dressed, the big black dog that lay at the foot of the bed sleepily looked up at her and hopped down onto the ground to join her. Alyssa wiped the water from her face and grabbed the sword from its usual place by the bedside, slipping the belt around her waist as she and Shadow pulled back the tent and stepped out into the night.
The moon was bright and held high in the sky. She walked quickly to the edge of the camp, opposite the dark towers of Kalmar City. As the city starved they had been forced to keep camp outside the gates, as riots over food had become too much to stay in the city itself. Hunger or war. Which would be worse. I brought them both.She considered as she strolled briskly through the camp, trying to avoid being spotted by one of the soldiers under her command.
Just outside the Perdan encampment was a little stream she had found on their first day in the city outskirts. It was too small to get water from, but it was a nice little spot, peaceful, with the gentle sound of rushing water filling the silent night. She closed her eyes and the faces of people who she had put a sword into appeared in her mind. In no order, but they appeared all the same, one after the other. She felt her throat tighten when Shadow lay down next to her, putting his head in her lap. Real. She thought and placed a hand on his head, scratching his ears as she focused on her breathing. Once she thought she heard the caw of a crow from somewhere of in the distance. She told herself it wasn't real.
Everlight
Cool air seeped under the collar of her nightshirt and raised goosebumps down her spine, gradually stirring Isana awake. Her hands were clenched, jaw tight and sore; she had been writing letters frantically until a moment ago. She sighed and shifted under the blanket as she recognized the nighttime quiet and the dispersing dream. Apparently though the plight she dreamed of had been solved, it still worried her enough to have wrought itself into her sleep.
She shivered down into the blanket and rolled her shoulder to bring the heavy fabric up over her again. Its edge was longer than expected; what--? Abruptly she recalled that this time they were sharing a campaign tent and had gone to sleep together cozy-warm.
She looked back over her shoulder to find the bed was cold and empty where Alyssa Kingsley and her dog Shadow had been.
Isana sat up blinking sleepily and drew the blanket around her, ears straining into the cool dark of the night. The keening of a nighthawk somewhere nearby was the only sound. In the grey shadows of the tent Isana could make out that Alyssa’s sword and boots were also gone.
She chewed her lip as one hand found the end of her braid and stroked it by habit. They had likely gone to the privy. Her eyes found the mostly-empty wine bottle on the shelf. That made sense. Of course.
We’re in the middle of camp, she’s got her wits about her and she has Shadow, what are you worried about? Isana admonished herself. But they’ve been gone long enough that the bed’s gone cold? The voice in her head wondered skeptically back. She looked around for another long moment, listening hard, and was greeted with ringing silence. A long breath sighed out and she lay back down, and carefully spread the blanket across Alyssa’s side of the bed to warm it up and fluff the pillow for her return.
At the pillow she stopped: the fabric under her fingers was wet!
Isana lurched up again and brought the pillow close. The wet part was not dark in colour. Not blood. She closed her eyes in relief. But why, then?
Fully awake now, Isana swung her feet out of bed to find her own boots and grabbed her long coat from the camp stool. She carefully replaced the blanket to save whatever heat might be there in case Alyssa returned before she did.
Outside the tent the moon was brilliant in the sky, shining off the white canvas of the tents like snow. Isana took a moment to observe where the night watch was in their patrol, then set out at a cautious counterpoint in the general direction of the privies, watching for her partner in the silver dark of the night. She greeted one soldier with a sleepy nod and a gesture of her destination and avoided the others.
Her quarry was not at the destination. Isana crossed her arms over her chest and stood looking thoughtfully. Where would she go in the middle of the night? Knowing she wouldn’t sleep anyway, Isana began a walk around the camp’s perimeter. If she didn’t find Alyssa, at least it would be long enough to wear out the nervous energy so she could sleep again.
Two-thirds of the way around the encampment and nearly out of hope, berating herself for paranoid sleep deprivation, Isana caught sight of a figure seated some distance away outside the patrols. She approached quietly, finding silent footfalls came easily to her tonight. As she came close the memory of Alyssa’s other side, the ferocity she had faced in the training match, appeared in her thoughts. Her heart wrenched. She swallowed and readied her sleepy body to defend itself if Aly was not herself. She had no reason to think she would be, it had been a long time… but… this was odd.
Isana came within a few steps of the seated figure surprised Shadow had not thumped his tail at her approach. She spoke, her voice sounding thin in the silence of the night.
“Aly-dear? Are you alright?"
Kingsley
Alyssa closed her eyes breathing deep and slow as the little stream babbled on, the quiet buzz of insects faded and distant as summer turned to fall, and the wind flowing across the newly formed land, carrying the tiniest traces of remnant ash from the cataclysm that built this new and verdant landscape.
"Aly-dear? Are you alright?"
Alyssa jolted at the sound of her lover's voice. She quickly turned her head around to spot Isana only a few steps away, relaxing at the sight of the pretty face bathed in soft moonlight. Shadow did not move, still laying his head sleepily in her lap.
"I'm sorry darling." Alyssa answered softly. "I tried to be quiet, I didn't want to wake you."
"You didn't dearest, it was the cold; but you also didn't answer my question." Isana replied taking a seat close to her, and putting her arm through Alyssa's, the concern clear on her face, as Alyssa suddenly felt a bit guilty for stepping out on her own.
"I... Couldn't sleep."
"The nightmares again?" Isana asked, pulling a stray golden lock behind Alyssa's ear. Alyssa merely nodded solemnly and shifted a bit uncomfortably. "One of the normal ones?" Isana continued softly, intertwining their fingers together and placing her other hand on top.
"The same... but... different." She shook her head, still staring out into the stream. "Mostly the same."
The two held quietly for a moment and another tear sneaked its way down Alyssa's face. "I just... don't want ... to be like this." her voice breaking slightly as she wiped the wayward tear. "I'm not afraid, truly, I just..." She tapped her toe inside her boot as she considered how to explain it. "I don't know... Like the only time anything makes any sense is when I have a sword in my hand, and someone's bleeding out in front of me. The rest is like... I'm just waiting for that next battle. The next time I have to kill someone to protect the people I care for." Alyssa gave Isana's hand a little squeeze, and put her other hand on her temple, sighing. "I don't like to kill people Isana. I don't like to watch the people I command die on my order. Please don't misunderstand its just... When I am there, my instincts all feel right. And when its over I feel like... I don't know. Like I'm still there, when I'm not."
A little beat came over them, silence filled with nothing but the remnants of distant cicadas and the little stream babbling on endlessly. Alyssa continued softer, another tear falling
"When its quiet I hear the screams and shouts and moans echo. I like places like this... Where there's a little sound to drown them out. Something else to focus on." She leaned into her partner's shoulder and sobbed, wrapping her arms around her and burying her face into her neck "It's only a respite, Isana. The ghosts always wait. They'll always be back. And I just want them to go away."
Nightmares in Kalmar
9/28/2020
"It's only a respite, Isana. The ghosts always wait. They'll always be back. And I just want them to go away."
A deep ache twisted in Isana’s throat at the desperate words Alyssa spoke. She reached to gather the sobbing woman closer to her, providing warmth against the chill of the night. She stroked her hair gently and held her tight as the tears fell, with thoughts full of a similar time many months ago when she had been the one to break, and had doubted this connection that had become the beacon of her existence only to find her faith redoubled by her partner’s support and stronger than ever. She knew the power in their love, how it could bring hope even in the end of the world. Was hope enough to dispel these terrors?
Words began to ramble softly from her lips, a soothing cadence alongside the little stream.
“Oh Aly, my love, I’m so sorry… I wish I knew how to make the ghosts leave you alone, to make the world make more sense without bloodshed... I can promise you, that to the end of my days, any time they come for you I will be at your side, to be the dawnlight after the darkness: to hold you just like this and care for you, to help you find the sun again, and remind you of all the good you’ve done in the world too... it's a sign of your caring heart, you know, that these awful ghosts are able to find you at all; it takes compassion, courage, and wisdom to care for the fate of those who have been your enemy.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a steadying breath, resting her cheek on the top of Alyssa’s head. The hand that had been stroking Alyssa’s hair paused to pull a soft green-and-white striped kerchief from her pocket and gently dabbed at the shining trails down her cheeks. Alyssa’s fingers brushed her own as she took hold of the small cloth.
Isana pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head and continued speaking.
“You are all those things, Alyssa Kingsley--compassionate, courageous, wise, vigilant. And you don’t deserve to be haunted like this for doing the best you can. You’re also an incredible leader and fighter. Actually…”
She paused, looking far away past the distant city lights of Kalmar for a moment.
“Aly dear, do you… do the ghosts fade if you’ve not been to battle in a fair while? I wonder if, I mean fighting is important to you and something you’re skilled at, but maybe… if you didn’t refresh those ghosts with new battles, they would begin to go away?”
