Take time off, his brother had told him as he had fussed over the course of a day about one thing or another while his mind drifted back to home and family. You haven't been home in months, we can handle it for a few days. And of course, after much more fussing over things being done right, where he would be in case someone had need of him and one of his siblings couldn't handle it, he'd gone. Back home to the Arling, the West Hills where he could just by Byron Wulff, with some exceptions, and not the Ruler of Ferelden. At least if he was in the castle and not amongst the people.
For those occasions he'd stripped down and gone hunting or similar in a helm, Samson the Mabari at his side, as he did. It wasn't the most kingly of things, a hunt for food and not sport, but it was enjoyable in it's simplicity and he went home on those rare occasions with a grin even as he cleaned himself up under his mother's watchful eye. It was good to be home, it did his heart good at least and if he looked a little lighter, a little happier as he left on that final day, then obviously someone, somewhere had known best. He was rather certain it was his mother, as his brothers were just as stubborn as he.
And for once, he hadn't minded the guided manipulation for someone to have their way in regards to him.
But it was late when he arrived home, back to the palace, dirtied from travel to the sight of someone waiting for him. Someone who informed him of the goings on, of who had appeared and who hadn't and the usual. Well, until of course, his brother, for that was who his advisor and source of information was, told him the final, small tidbit that he should have started with.
That his betrothed was in the dungeon.
Well rather, that a royal of Antiva was in the dungeon, but they had figured out who it was and as a result, they hadn't tortured her. Or in general, done much to her since he'd gone except to feed her and leave her in the dungeons. Which truthfully, for most of the other royal families about, was likely akin to a declaration of war and Byron had already felt the headache brewing behind his eyes as he took the news in stride. Accepting a towel to wipe down the worst of the dirt and grime of travel, he headed towards the dungeons, unafraid, with just his Mabari at his side.
The sight that greeted him, of her breaking out on her own, looking proud, had been enough to make him grin. Before of course the unfortunate spat with the bucket and her head and he had to hide an outright smile, he even had to smooth out the grin from his face. Not that the rules of propriety and Byron looking like a stonewall applied to Samson of course, who in the habit of all Mabari barked in greeting, his hindend already wagging as if ready to pounce in play. It was enough for Byron to place one hand on the Mabari's collar to keep him still, while reaching out with the other to accept the handshake.
For those occasions he'd stripped down and gone hunting or similar in a helm, Samson the Mabari at his side, as he did. It wasn't the most kingly of things, a hunt for food and not sport, but it was enjoyable in it's simplicity and he went home on those rare occasions with a grin even as he cleaned himself up under his mother's watchful eye. It was good to be home, it did his heart good at least and if he looked a little lighter, a little happier as he left on that final day, then obviously someone, somewhere had known best. He was rather certain it was his mother, as his brothers were just as stubborn as he.
And for once, he hadn't minded the guided manipulation for someone to have their way in regards to him.
But it was late when he arrived home, back to the palace, dirtied from travel to the sight of someone waiting for him. Someone who informed him of the goings on, of who had appeared and who hadn't and the usual. Well, until of course, his brother, for that was who his advisor and source of information was, told him the final, small tidbit that he should have started with.
That his betrothed was in the dungeon.
Well rather, that a royal of Antiva was in the dungeon, but they had figured out who it was and as a result, they hadn't tortured her. Or in general, done much to her since he'd gone except to feed her and leave her in the dungeons. Which truthfully, for most of the other royal families about, was likely akin to a declaration of war and Byron had already felt the headache brewing behind his eyes as he took the news in stride. Accepting a towel to wipe down the worst of the dirt and grime of travel, he headed towards the dungeons, unafraid, with just his Mabari at his side.
The sight that greeted him, of her breaking out on her own, looking proud, had been enough to make him grin. Before of course the unfortunate spat with the bucket and her head and he had to hide an outright smile, he even had to smooth out the grin from his face. Not that the rules of propriety and Byron looking like a stonewall applied to Samson of course, who in the habit of all Mabari barked in greeting, his hindend already wagging as if ready to pounce in play. It was enough for Byron to place one hand on the Mabari's collar to keep him still, while reaching out with the other to accept the handshake.
It's not often our dungeon is graced with such a fine person as yourself,his grip was firm on Fran's hand as he took it in his own, Samson pulling to get away and accost the other human for pets.
Though is it breaking out if someone is here to help?It wasn't a lie, he was there to get her out and take her upstairs, get a bath and dressed in whatever she wished.
08-03-2022, 08:12 PM
