Edmund lay in the garden with his blade resting across his lap, its surface catching the pale winter light. He worked with care, polishing its edge as if a close friend. Above him, snow fell, seemingly having a mind of its own. Flakes avoided him. His sword too. So around him the ground remained bare, all but some grass that had by some miracle grown in the cold settled, a vibrant red kind, rather than an expanse of snow as he sat on the weathered stump of Oyalish. The ancient tree was long dead but that seemed to matter little, remnants still holding its silent vigil over the grounds.
And there he sat with his sword. Few carried one like it. Blood was a relic of an age even older than himself. It whispered to him as he worked, its stories etched into its steel. Tales of blood spilled and lives claimed, of both anguish and fleeting fragile joy. The sword had seen it all, his eternal companion.
One must ask why he was cleaning its face. The readying of a weapon such as Blood was not a trivial thing. Not at all. Yet there he sat, a cloth gripped between his fingers, the strokes slow and deliberate. Each gentle pass revealing more of the steel's gleaming surface until it mirrored his own reflection. Ice blue eyes, the palest of skin, and the trademark hair of divinity.
There was a wrongness in the air. Or so Edmund thought. Gods were able to feel such things. Subtle changes in the webs of existence. Plans being made from beings hidden behind the veil.
"Exalted one." A voice spoke from behind him. "I was sent for you. The Exalted Serah seeks your presence."
Edmund paused mid-stroke and turned slowly.
The steward Gaelon stood with his head bowed, no more than five feet away from him. Edmund hadn't heard him approach. None but the Gods themselves should have been able to do such a thing, but after all, Gaelon's kind though not divine could hardly be considered mortal either.
The old man was swathed in furs, layer upon layer of thick pelts draped over his stooped frame. You'd think his back would falter from it all, the sheer abundance of them concealing nearly all of him. But those milked gloss eyes were unmistakable. He'd be a fool not to recognise his old friend after all these years.
"Your Godship?"
"Tell her, I'll be with her shortly." Edmund said simply.
Gaelon stood there for a moment, his old teacher casting a quick look at Blood rested on his lap. But a quick look it was, the old man offering a deep bow before briskly walking off.
Edmund watched his figure recede, then turned his eyes toward the trees encircling the garden. None were as old as Oyalish of course, nor had they witnessed half the stories the ancient stump had, but they bore an age and dignity of their own. He took in the scene, resting the cloth and blade to his side. Blood had no sheath. It needed none.
And so Edmund sat there. In all but silence. Trying his best to put away feelings that still gnawed at his soul. 'Do we even still have such things', he thought. Even now, he still found himself asking these questions. There was no guide to Godhood. No teacher to demonstrate how one should lead. It was the damn reason for all the squabbling between the bloody lot.
He took in the scene for a bit while longer but didn't dare push his stay too long. His wife was waiting. And Gods weren't particularly known for their patience.
So he walked. Crossing the garden grounds. Then the snowy bridge next. The snow continued to avoid him of course, wherever he stepped it parted way, avoiding him like a plague. Soon he was upon the rear end of his sprawling estate. Even now the thought of it amused him. Gods and estates, what an odd pairing. He recalled his bewilderment upon learning of such things. In all his living years, he could confess the living arrangements of the divine were not on his mind. Yet, for all their power, even Gods needed beds to rest in and privies to shit. Divinity, it seemed, was not without its more mundane necessities.
Edmund continued onward, his attention caught by a small head peeking around the back entrance doors. The moment his eyes focused on them, the child seemed to grow even bolder, sticking out their tiny tongue in playful defiance.
A grin tugged at the God's lips. His daughter, Sussan, was nothing if not cheeky. The grin must have emboldened her further, for in an instant, she darted out of the mansion. She moved with startling speed, faster than any child of only eight years had a right to, and dashed toward him, bare feet leaving imprints in the snow.
"You, young lady, should be with your sister, no." Edmund said as she dived into his arms. "Did no one tell you to get ready? And what off Brandon. He should be with you when you roam."
"He tried to catch me, father. You should have seen it. Dancing around the hallways, shouting my name. But he's way too slow." Sussan replied.
"Is he now." Edmund tried again to restrain himself. A smile would encourage her. But by the Gods, it was hard. "Sussan, you shouldn't be playing such games with him. Brandon is an esteemed guest, not your personal playmate."
The little girl pouted her lips but nodded at him. For all her cheek, she was a good child – quick to learning.
"Come, let me take you back to him and your sister. Time is catching you."
But instead of leaping out of his arms as he suspected, Sussan found her way on his back. He let out a small sigh but did not comment on her behaviour, undignified of beings of their stature. With her finding seat on his shoulders, he moved into his home.
It was warmer inside, or so he was told. Glowing orbs littered the hallway bringing both light and heat. And as they walked his daughter spoke again.
"Father." She said.
"Yes, little crow."
"Does Troy really have to leave us." Her voice had suddenly gone sour. A vast difference to the life typically found in her tone.
"Sussan, Troy is not leaving us, he's not leaving you. Do you understand." Even though she lay on his shoulders, he made an effort to crane his neck and meet her eyes. "His love found for a new, does not mean his towards you will ever be lost. Take confidence in that, little crow. Your brother would face the first themselves to keep you safe."
Sussan grinned, the worry off a moment ago leaving her already.
"But father, this means he won't stay here no more. I'm going to miss him." This time there was no sad undertone to her voice. Just quiet, as though she was simply coming to terms with the truth.
For some reason this only brought bitter joy to Edmund. For what she said, he reluctantly agreed with. "I will too Sussan, I will too."
He made sure to held her dangling legs tight as he walked the stairs. They spiralled up high leading to the upper floor.
On their way down the halls he didn't fail to catch the many strange looks from the stewards walking back and forth the hallways. The same couldn't be said for his daughter as she whistled lightly as he walked.
It wasn't long before they reached the door he was looking for. Edmund stopped and gently lifted Sussan down, though not without protest. Her grumbling was interrupted by the muffled sound of voices inside the room.
He knocked, bringing the noise inside to a stop.
"Who is it." He heard. His daughters voice.
"It's me."
He heard steps before the door opened, revealing Naromii, standing tall with a radiant grin. She was dressed in an elegant blue silk gown and her hair pinned perfectly in place.
"I thought you were someone else." She said as she walked back into the room. "Yumi and I were worried for a moment."
Edmund stepped inside, Sussan trailing behind him, and his gaze landed on the second figure. Yumi Suletti, Naromii's closest friend. The girl dipped into a polite bow as his eyes fell on her, to which he nodded back.
Edmund turned his attention back to his daughter. "Someone else?"
"Yes. Elanor's brother is here. He's still a bachelor you know." Naromii replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He sometimes forgot she was only sixteen.
"And he would just be wandering the corridors?" Sussan quipped as she darted toward a table laden with snacks. She immediately began picking through them with no regard for decorum.
"He could be lost." Naromii countered.
"And somehow find his way onto the upper floor, then your room?" Sussan shot back, turning to fix her elder sister with a skeptical look while food stuffed her mouth.
Naromii's face reddened. Something hard to hide with their pale skin. "He could be really lost."
Sussan burst into laughter, his own lips pulling slightly into a grin. Even Yumi tried to suppress her own gauffers, though not very successfully. Naromii groaned, her embarrassment deepening.
"Now, now Sussan. Give your sister some slack. Soon enough you might start acting like this." Edmund said.
Sussan's laughter stopped abruptly, her face contorting into an expression of utter disbelief. "I will never act like that, father!"
Edmund chuckled softly. "You'll want a family of your own one day, little crow."
"I already have a family." She said firmly, her tone exasperated as though the idea itself were preposterous. "Why would I need another? That's boring! I'm going to grow strong like Mother. Then, then I'm going to fight evil guys and be worshiped by all the mortal people!"
Edmund couldn't help but smile, the sincerity in her voice warming him. She had the boldness and conviction of her mother, but with a youthful innocence that made it all the more endearing. "Is that right."
She nodded her head quickly, not forgetting to stuff her face with another round of sponge cake.
Edmund turned back to Naromii. "I must go meet your mother. Make sure she doesn't run off this time." He said as he began walking towards the door. "And get her dressed, will you. The ceremony will begin in an hour."
He left the room only to see Brandon walking towards his direction. And by the Gods, he looked just like his father. Same pointed nose, green eyes and all. The younger boy must have noticed him as well, as he started to speed walk to him frantically.
"Uncle, I've lost Sussan. She ran off out of the room before I could stop her. I tried to ca..."
"She's fine Bran." Edmund interrupted. "I just sent the little rascal back. Naromii should be dressing her now. Just stand watch at the door, aye."
This seemed to calm the boy down. He nodded and went over to man the door. A useless thing really. Useless as his job to protect his youngest. Few would dare come for his family, but at least he could help the son of an old friend.
And so, he left the corridor finding himself walking down the spiralling stairs and to the great hall, for that was surely where his wife was waiting.
And it didn't take long for Edmund to reach. The great hall loomed before him, its colossal doors rising far higher than even his own stature. They stood firm, crafted from wyr-wood harvested from the ancient Oyalish tree. The grain of the wood seemed alive, its surface dark red and rich. Carved into it was the sigil of his Domain, the wise crow.
He pushed the doors, inside finding more than just his wife. Joining her was his eldest, Troy. With them stood two women soon to be bound to his family. Elanor and her mother Rullesa. And to the side, steward Gaelen and another steward he had never seen before. One under the retainer of his guests no doubt.
"When you called for me, I wasn't exactly expecting an audience, my dear."
"Well, the situation is dire, my love." Serah said.
It took until Edmund had neared them, but he'd be slow not to notice. Their faces were tense, and the atmosphere was heavy. Not at all what a union between man and woman was meant to be like.
"What has happened?" He asked.
Steward Gaelen stepped forward, offering a scroll with both hands. Edmund took it and unrolled the parchment, his eyes immediately drawn to the familiar stamp at the top, the symbol of the Olden Council.
"What is this?" he demanded, the weight of authority lacing his voice.
"It is an impeachment in relations, is what." Rullesa spoke. Her tone was dark. "The Council seeks to intervene where they shouldn't."
"Unfortunately, I think they speak with reason." Serah's voice was steady but laced with tension. "They oppose this union between our families, Edmund."
Edmund's brow furrowed, but he let her continue.
"They believe…" She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Troy and then to Elanor and Rullesa. "They believe you're attempting to create another pantheon." Her words fell heavily, each one deliberate. "They say it would disrupt the balance."
The room seemed to darken with the weight of her statement. Edmund's hand instinctively found the hilt of Blood, his grip tightening. He didn't speak immediately, his mind turning over the implications.
"Hypocrites, the whole lot of them." Rullesa snapped, her voice rising. "We ignore it."
"Exalted one, surely you understand how that would be unwise." Gaelen said.
"Gaelen is right, maybe we should push this union back." Serah added.
The discussion quickly devolved into a cacophony of voices, the older women and stewards bickering and overlapping. Rullesa's sharp tone clashed with Serah's measured but insistent rebuttals, while Gaelen and the unfamiliar steward clipped interjections only fuelled the fire. Amid the chaos, it was the two young birds, the very subjects of the ceremony, who remained silent. Elanor and Troy stood still, their faces calm but their hands fidgeting subtly by their side, no one looking towards them for input in their own matter. The irony was stark.
"Enough!" Edmund's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. Silence fell, and all eyes turned to him. You didn't ignore the Black Crow. "This letter is pointless." He said while tearing it in two. Jaws dropped as eyes looked back and forth between the torn parchment and the God in disbelief.
"What are you doing." Serah asked, her tone a mixture of disbelief and alarm.
"Disregarding words of frightened fools. Fools who seem to think I care for their titles and symbols."
"Fools they might be, holy one. But fools with friends. A lot more friends than we." His old teacher said. "And If I may be so bold, a fool was one of your brothers, and no one wanted to cross him."
Edmund stood still for a moment as he tried contemplating the best move, but no matter how he thought it through, a single truth lingered—it might not be his decision to make. So, he turned to Troy and Elanor. "You love each other."
"Yes father."
"With all my heart, Exalted Craven."
"So we will move on with the ceremony." He said.
"Exalted one, this is madness."
He looked at the others, they all seemingly agreeing. Even Rullesa looked surprise he had actually allowed for this union to continue.
"Father, they will march for this." Troy gazed at him, his face sour as a Jew-jew plum.
"Did you not say you love her."
"I do, without a doubt."
"Then let them march. I've never cut down an Olden before. I shall be curious to see what their insides are made off."
The room seemed to chill over, the weight of Edmund's declaration settling heavily on everyone present. A storm was brewing, of that, they were certain. Edmund walked out, a calmness to him now. He wouldn't allow for any outside source, Gods or not, to get in between a union of lovers, it was a sacred custom. The Olden Council and their outdated ways had no place meddling in such matters.
As Edmund strode away from the great hall, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was—his son. The boy's heritage was undeniable, looking the spitting image of Edmund himself in his younger days beside the apparent signs of the touch of Godhood. He was slim, but not the skinny kind, no, he was compact in his features. Muscles tightened as a coil snakes would before it strikes. And his blue eyes. Sharp as a crow. The boy was fast of mind, his wit his blade.
"Troy."
"Father, I'm sorry." The boy said as his eyes turned to the ground.
"Look at me."
His son hesitated to look up.
"Troy, Look at me." Edmund repeated, to which the boy finally raised his head, so to meet his eyes. "Don't apologise for what you want. You're a God."
Troy nodded at him though he still looked unconvinced. Edmund sighed. "Come, I want to show you something."
They made their way out of the Estate, exiting out of the east entrance. The air was chillier outside, or so he was told, the breath escaping their mouths turning into puffs of clouds that seemed to linger a slight longer than they were meant to.
The two of them soon found their way to a lake. Its water was still, and fog gathered, resting just above it. "Why bring me here, father." Troy said. He was shivering, the boy tried to hide it, but he was doing a very bad job. His furred cloak did little help for him out here.
Edmund chuckled. "You're a child of the freeze. Yet the cold still bites you."
"I'm not cold, I promise." He defended, still shivering. "But can we be quick. Don't want to leave Elanor for too long."
Edmund smiled knowingly, turning to the lake once more. Phantom Blue was a sight to behold, even for one with as long a life as him. The water seemed to glow, lighting the fog eerily. And the ghost fish swam not in the water but the fog above it, their ethereal fins swaying side-to-side as they travelled the mist. Edmund crouched near the water's edge to pick up a pebble.
"Father?"
"Pick some too." Edmund said. Troy sighed but kneeled down also, gathering a few in his hand. "Do you know who I was before I ascended." Edmund started, as he began to skip pebbles down the lake surface. Troy, who was about follow suit, stopped mid action. Most likely surprised, he didn't often talk about his past much with his children. "Well throw the pebble, son. They won't skip themselves."
Troy began his motion again, the pebble skidding across the water's top. "You were the Master-of-Spies for some mortal kingdom, weren't you?"
Edmund smiled. "Yes, I was. But before that."
"I don't think you told us." Troy said as he threw another pebble into the water, the stone barley missing a fish as it skidded back up into the fog above.
"I was a farmer's boy." Again, Troy froze, but quickly went back to throwing another pebble. "And I actually have a story very similar to what's happening now."
"What tale could a farmer's boy have that could be remotely similar to this, to the olden council." Troy said, scepticism filling his words.
"It was when I was a boy of only twelve summers." Edmund said. "I grew up in a place called Paridike. The seering's there were… especially tough. Lost my mother to them before I could walk, my younger sister a year or two before my tenth."
Troy once again stopped skipping the rocks, but this time Edmund did not say anything of it.
"With so little of us to work the farms you would think we were doomed. But the Gods of my time were good to us. Our chickens were strong, healthy as an ox. We were meant to rise, son, were destined for it."
"But you didn't?"
"No, we did not."
"Why?" Troy asked.
"There was another farming family in the village. Most only have one. Cos you have two, next thing you have price wars, and both groups suffer for it. But this farming family, Troy, they'd been in this village far longer than we. There roots were solid, and their pockets were fat. Told us to give up our chicken or they would make their prices a quarterly of what they were. Said they could survive it."
"So you had no choice, you had to give the chickens up."
"No." Edmund said, a bit more heavily than he'd meant too. "We had a choice, Troy. My father just chose wrong. Gave all the chickens to them without a second thought."
"You would have starved."
Edmund laughed, the sound tinged with melancholy. "And what do you think happened anyways without our main source of coin. We did starve, Troy. That choice doomed us all the same. You want to know the funny part. That same farming family, their crops caught a disease, black-soot, not even a week later. We would have won, Troy. We would have won."
His son frowned, silence taking the space where they had exchanged words. "I'm sorry, father. I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me."
Edmund took a pebble and threw it softly into the water. "You see that, throw one with little power and it doesn't go very far." He went down to pick up another one, this time throwing it with force. "But if you really go for it, put power into the throw, it travels further than you'd think."
"Yet, it still sinks." Troy said plainly. "Whether it travels a foot or the whole damn lake, eventually, it will fall."
"Well, I won't deny that truth, Troy. Every stone sinks in the end. But tell me this, what would you prefer? To sink after traveling a single foot, or to cross the whole damn lake before the fall? You shouldn't have apologised for wanting this marriage."
"The Olden Gods will come."
"It would have been safer to cancel this union, yes, but you want this don't you."
Troy's hesitation lingered, his uncertainty written across his face.
"The truth is Troy, I've been feeling something in the air recently. Something bad. Those fools were always gunna find something to argue with us on anyways. At least this way, you get what you want. But it is your decision ultimately, it must be your choice. If you don't want it, you really don't want it, I'll call it off."
Troy stood quietly for a moment. His fists were clenched at his sides as he struggled with his answer. But finally, he met his father's gaze, his voice steady despite the emotion in it. "I'll do it father. Forgive me, but I want to be selfish."
Edmund's expression softened, pride glinting in his eyes. "It is not selfish, Troy. You're a child of the freeze. You're a God. And a God does not apologize for reaching beyond safety to grasp what he desires."
Troy exhaled slowly, his tension easing slightly as he nodded. Together, father and son stood at the edge of Phantom Blue, the ripples fading into stillness as they braced for the storm ahead. But one they now welcomed.