Dusk donned a sparkling dress of magic; the rising star gradually painted heaven’s canvas into life. Purple, crimson, peach, golden. The delicate rays of light clung to the soft wool high in the sky and when the sun finally crawled above the horizon, a new day would begin. One more day in the long book of life, and today would have followed the same pattern as any other day if yesterday hadn’t unravelled the way it had. The end of an extensive and rather tedious chapter had finally closed, and today marked the day for a new one; one Falena Mithanil (https://31.media.tumblr.com/6c6f5079d60a214095301f0dbf823be5/tumblr_nefgkykk581rnqt9wo1_500.jpg) was less keen on putting quill to parchment for. The warm sea of linen and silks the maiden rested in was far too alluring to even consider the thought of abandoning the bed. If she could have it her way, she would never leave it from now on. There was a prominent heaviness in her chest, a lump of ache that worked well with gravity and kept both mind and body completely still.<br/><br/>Yesterday had been peculiar in more ways than one. Not only had it been her twenty-first name day, but a day of great change. It had been a timid celebration, because she had since long crossed the fine line between young and old; and getting old wasn’t something to praise within their vain and number obsessed society. Twenty-one was close to ancient and it most certainly crossed her off any list a reasonable man would have in his pursuit for a wife.<br/><br/>The red head was envious of her married friends, and she knew that it was a horrible thing to be. But she couldn’t help it, and the bizarre announcement from yesterday had shattered the last picture she had made up in her mind. A delicate image built by hopes and expectations she had adapted and reduced as the years had come and gone. As a young naïve girl of fourteen she had hoped for a Prince of might and wealth; it had been the pathetic dream she had latched on to when she came of age. After a whole year of waiting; of getting her hopes up and always becoming dreadfully disappointed, she had reduced her image of the perfect man drastically. An honoured knight or a prosperous merchant would do; wealth wasn’t important for as long as they made each other happy. Then the war came and killed off any armoured men she might would have said yes to. She had reined in her expectations once again after that; she would settle with anyone and happiness wouldn’t matter either this time. And when no one appeared after six years of waiting, she had finally eliminated the last bit of hope and cranny of expectation. She had convinced herself hard-headedly that she would be fine on her own; that there was no room for a man in her life. But of course, such a conviction stung to embrace when there had always been the wish to have a family of her own.<br/><br/>She would have to leave. It was the single thing that ran through her mind like a frightened horse. The thought of having to leave the place the heart shouted home and her family that meant the world to her, had shaped up to the swelling in her chest. The mass of unshed emotions ached to no end, and the pessimistic part of her had been quick to dim all the positive lights of the arranged marriage.<br/><br/>From where she rested in the bed in between the city’s finest textiles, she had an excellent view of the birth of day. The thin screen of glass that separated hot from cold was uneven and blurry as the masters still was in the process of taming the beautiful art. The irregularities did not lessen the splendour though, and while she was too energized to sleep, but too drained to leave the bed, she studied the daily phenomenon with little thought of the coming day. How would she be able to live without her family? The issue didn’t reside with<em>him</em>– the man she had only heard so little of – but in the changes that had to be made.  The eastern part of the world was… uncivilised if she dared to believe the rumours, and she doubted that she would last a day out there. How could she? She had been spoiled rotten thanks to her heritage and even a simple task as cooking was as unknown and foreign as her eastern spouse.<br/><br/>Two soft knocks on the wooden door suddenly tested the silence within the chamber, and in the following moment the hinges creaked loudly as the door slid open. The visitor was one of great familiarity; her beloved mother Sathyn who had yesterday cracked the news. Needless to say, it had changed everything.<br/><br/>“Good morning.”<br/><br/>“Morning.”<br/><br/>“How are you feeling?” Sathyn asked as she slowly seated herself on the bedside. Her pale lips wore a gentle smile and when the reply delayed significantly, she remained patient.<br/><br/>“I don’t know.” The confession was nothing more than a frail whisper.<br/><br/>“I think everything will feel a lot better once you meet him.”<br/><br/>Acting more like a twelve-year old then the young lady she was, Falena pulled the thick covers over her head when he was mentioned once again. “I don’t believe I dare to meet him.” Her words came out as a soft mumble through the layers of fabric.<br/><br/>“Oh, don’t be silly child.” Her mother snorted, as if she didn’t believe a word that fell from her daughter’s mouth.  “Get up and get dressed; I have something to show you.”<br/><br/>Sathyn left her daughter alone with the words that she expected her ready sooner rather than later. When the massive door of dark oak closed and welcomed solitude again Falena thought about staying in bed despite her mother’s request. If she was lucky, then her body might take root in the bed of straw and then there would be no need for her to leave the citadel.<br/><br/>Knowing that wishful thinking wouldn’t lead her far, the ginger girl tossed away the comforters and dressed quickly in a long, blue gown fit for the early hours of day. She tamed the red tresses with the comb made out of whalebone and left the warm bedchamber to join her mother who she found in the Great Hall.  Together they left the castle and its busy grounds behind, and to Falena’s discomfort, her mother answered very vague on every question she asked. Eventually she gathered a conclusion from her fruitless attempts and they ended up maintaining the silence as they walked and wandered, until they finally reached the familiar stables belonging to the fortress.<br/><br/>“What are we doing here?” Tossing her conclusion away, Falena broke the seal of silence as they walked through the iron gates and into the inner yard. The smell of horse, hay and straw clung to the brisk morning air.<br/><br/>“You will know soon. I think we are right in time.” A petite smile jerked on Sathyn’s lips while it infected her eager voice and she hurried her steps. Together they walked past the two rows of stable buildings, past the large inner yard and toward the first of many paddocks. They stopped by one of the smaller ones and just as her mother had predicted, they were right in time to watch how one of the stable boys released their crown jewel into the pasture. A whole night in the stall seemed to have done little in its favour as the mount exploded in energy the moment the halter came off. The esteemed three-year old was a spectacular being; a shimmering mirage of dark gold that flew across the paddock with a mighty gait. Stretching its black, slender legs by every long step and when it approached the sudden end of the enclosure the stallion would stop so abruptly that it almost sat down on its behind when it slid the last couple of meters until the full stop came. Then he turned around and moved with an equal speed to the other end of the pasture, before he repeated the wild pattern again. Anything to rid the tickling energy that seemed to drive him mad.<br/><br/>“Your father’s best colt since Maredon. I believe he possess everything the Hadju value; stamina, strength, speed.” Sathyn began after admiring the mount for long, and the gentle smile of hers had transformed into a canny grin.<br/><br/>“I don’t understand…” The smoky black Maredon had been the most fierce war horse ever bred in their stables, and while the beast was closing in on thirty now and had since long retired from the battlefield, the monster had a knack of killing off the stable boys. One thought that they should learn by now to stay cautious around the scarred mount, but last week’s tragedy spoke differently. At least the bay dun youngster did not seem to possess his sire’s aggressiveness.<br/><br/>“This will be your tribute.” Her mother finally revealed. It was an ancient Western tradition that the lady would gift her fiancée a worthy tribute for their coming marriage, and while ordinary men from the West would have preferred a chest of gold, Sathyn knew that a horse – not to mention one of the greatest horses in the West – would be better than any sum of gold for an easterner. “I have already spoken to your father about this and you have his blessing to give away the horse.”