Aida

I love medieval or historic adventure/romance. I watched one some time back and disappointed by the lack of storyline, I boasted to my wife that even I could write a simple romantic drama that will be better. To prove my point, I told her two stories. This is the written form of better of those.

My wife loved it - I am not sure if she liked the story or she simply cares about my feelings.

Standard Warning : Anyone indulging in sex is above 18 years.

Standard Apology : English is not my first language and I am trying my hand in medieval style (inspired by Tolkien). Story is pretty long too. I apologise in advance for the mistakes that you see. I have no editors.

Aida

<>bBeginning

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a powerful kingdom named Aurelia, ruled by King Halrix IV, a monarch of great might and wisdom. The Duchy of Thravenreach, located in the southernmost reaches of Aurelia, was a vassal state of the Kingdom and was home to Princess Aida.

Far to the south, beyond the borders of Aurelia, lived many tribal kingdoms--referred to as "savages" by the folk of Aurelia. The largest of these kingdoms was Flamewood, ruled by Chief Baran whose middle son was Captain Dale.

This is their tale.

Chapter 1

Duke Thelric of Velmorra was a man of great shrewdness and pragmatism, known far and wide for his ability to maintain Velmorra's independence, even as King Halrix sought to subjugate neighboring duchies and bring them under Aurelia's dominion. Thelric had cleverly negotiated an agreement with King Halrix: in exchange for offering elite military forces in times of war, Velmorra would remain autonomous. Though he was a distant relative of the king, Thelric was an Aurelian by blood, and his sharp wit and political acumen had earned him respect at court--and fear for his calculated coldness.

Having seen many a kingdom torn asunder by the wars of succession, Thelric was determined that Velmorra would not meet the same fate. His two sons, however, could prove to be a threat to that stability.

"You called for me, Father?" Akon, the elder son, asked as he entered the room.

"Come in, Akon," Thelric replied, his voice grave. He stood near the large window in his study, the rays of the setting sun casting long shadows across the stone floor. His younger son, Aron, stood stoically at his side, silent as ever.

Akon could already guess the subject of their conversation, and he had a feeling he knew the decision his father was about to make.

"I am growing old, Akon," Thelric said, his voice tinged with a quiet heaviness.

"You still have many summers yet to come, Father," Akon replied, trying to offer comfort.

"Perhaps," Thelric mused, turning to face his sons. "But I wish to be prepared. I wish for Velmorra to be prepared." He gestured to the lands beyond the window. "It took great sacrifice and fortune to keep Velmorra beyond the reach of King Halrix and the southern tribes. I want my successor to ensure its continued independence."

Akon and Aron stood at attention, hands clasped behind their backs, awaiting their father's next words.

"Akon," Thelric continued, his voice measured, "you are a thinker. Your diplomatic skills surpass my own, but you are no warrior. You do not seek conquest; instead, you seek to build through negotiation. But you are not fit to rule in times of conflict."

Akon bowed his head, understanding his father's words. "You speak truly, Father. I believe negotiation creates a better legacy than conquest."

Thelric turned to Aron, his eyes hardening. "You, Aron, are fiery, charismatic, and power-hungry. You are a warrior, well-liked by the Aurelian warlords. But you play a cruel game with no mercy."

Aron simply nodded, his face betraying no emotion.

"I have made my decision," Thelric's voice grew firm. "You will both accept it, or you will rebel against me." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in.

Akon and Aron remained silent, their eyes locked on their father.

"Akon," Thelric said, "you are not worthy to be the next ruler of Velmorra. I hereby name Aron as my successor. He shall rule in my stead when I am gone."

A wide grin spread across Aron's face, though he quickly suppressed it to mask his satisfaction. Akon, however, remained unfazed. He had long expected this outcome.

"I thank you, Father," Aron said, his voice dripping with pride, but he stopped speaking when Thelric raised a hand.

"I am not finished yet," Thelric declared. "The eastern coastal town of Thravenreach, with its surrounding hills and forests, was once a separate duchy. It shall be again, under Akon's control. He has served me well and shown promise. Thravenreach will be a vassal state to King Halrix, just as Velmorra is."

Akon bowed deeply, his voice calm. "I accept, Father."

Aron, though displeased at losing Thravenreach, knew that the throne of Velmorra was a reward in itself, and he was content with the outcome. "As you wish, Father," he said.

Years passed, and Aron grew stronger, thanks to his many alliances through marriage and his growing wealth. His bloodline was secure, and his power grew alongside his desire for control.

Akon, on the other hand, took a different path. His marriage to Alia, the youngest daughter of the fearsome Naqari chief, was a political move that shocked the nobles of Aurelia. The Naqari were known for their stealth and deadly precision in battle, and their union immediately halted any potential raids on Thravenreach. Though many believed the marriage was merely political, few knew that Akon and Alia had long been in love. Their union brought balance, and it also gave birth to a daughter--a child who would grow to be known as Princess Aida.

Chapter 2

Little Aida, with her friend Brinna, played merrily in her chamber, the sweet sound of laughter ringing through the air. Brinna's mother, a trusted maid to Alia, kept watch, her sharp eyes always alert. Suddenly, loud voices echoed from Akon's study.

"Why must you go? Your army is but a small handful. Know that you can not face them," Alia's voice rang out, filled with anger.

"And you know why," Akon's voice answered, firm. "If Flamewood takes this part of the forest, we lose access to Velmorra. 'Tis an important trade route, not just for us but for the whole of Aurelia."

Alia, furious, grasped his hand tightly. "I will ride with thee. I know who we shall face this day."

"Nay, Alia," Akon replied, his tone softening. "Aron has promised his soldiers. You are not a trained fighter." Then, in a hushed whisper, he added, "I need you to take over should I not return."

Distraught, Alia kissed him fiercely, her tears mixing with the urgency of their parting.

Alas, Akon fell in the battle--his small company no match for the might of Flamewood's warriors. Velmorra's army, as it seemed, had not arrived. Perhaps they were never meant to.

Alia, overcome with grief, performed his burial in the Aurelian manner. King Halrix himself arrived to honour him, his presence a somber mark of respect. After the king departed, Lord Aron approached Alia.

"Lady Alia, with Akon gone, I offer my assistance in the running of the court. You have Aida to raise, and you are deep in sorrow," Aron said, his voice soft, feigning sympathy.

Alia's eyes burned with fury. "Should I call you Lord Aron, or Aron the backstabber? You come to claim Thravenreach, I see. But you forget that I still hold sway among the Naqari chieftains. I shall not let you take even a finger's breadth of this land."

Aron stood still, taken aback, but his lips curled into a mocking smirk. "And what will ye do, Alia, widow of Akon? You think the Naqari will rise against Velmorra?"

"If I am the daughter of my father, and wife of Akon," she hissed, her words venomous, "I swear, I will bleed your army dry, and once I have done so, I shall come for your head myself. From this day forth, sleep with one eye open, lest ye find a Naqari dagger in your throat."

Her words, fierce and unyielding, caused Aron to retreat in silence, knowing well the wrath of the Naqari.

-----------------

The elders of Thravenreach, with great consensus, named Alia their regent. Flamewood ceased their advances, and the Naqari were pleased to see one of their own in such power. Even Aron, though frustrated, dared not challenge her openly.

Though not born of Aurelian blood, Alia raised Aida as if she were. She taught her daughter the ways of the world, preparing her for betrayal at every turn. Aida, inheriting her father's intellect and her mother's unshakable resolve, grew into a woman of rare strength and wit.

Aron, meanwhile, bided his time, waiting for Alia's death or for her to become politically irrelevant. Once she had gone, Aida, inexperienced and unprepared, would be his easy pawn to crush or control.

For the next ten years, Alia kept Thravenreach safe, never once resorting to battle.

Chapter 3

For many a year, the Southern Tribes had been a thorn in the side of Aurelia, disrupting trade, ambushing merchant caravans, and attacking outposts with relentless cruelty. To the Aurelian nobles, they were nothing more than savages, a disorderly and wild people. Yet, in truth, they were numerous, impoverished, and often more consumed with fighting amongst themselves than with warring against Aurelia or its northern duchies. Even Flamewood, the mightiest of these tribes, was fractured--over a dozen clans vying for power.

Aurelia had always relied on the disunity of the tribes. Their greatest weakness, it seemed, was their inability to stand together. But then came Baran of the Flameborn clan.

Baran was unlike any chieftain before him. He was wise, ruthless, charismatic, and politically astute. He understood that by uniting the fractured tribes, they could become a force capable of challenging even Aurelia itself. And so began his campaign of consolidation--through force, cunning diplomacy, and strategic marriages.

He married the daughter of a rival clan within Flamewood, and later took an Ashclaw warrior as a bride to cement his power. With these unions, he forged loyalty amongst the smaller clans, promising them spoils from Aurelian raids in exchange for their fealty. Baran's warriors were trained not just in ambush, but in the art of siege warfare--watching and learning from the disciplined armies of Aurelia.

In time, the Flamewood tribe became the de facto Southern Empire. They never claimed such a title, yet their power and reach made them as formidable as any empire.

With their newfound unity came boldness. Baran launched coordinated strikes on Aurelia's border duchies--burning farmlands, disrupting roads, and striking with such swiftness that the northern legions were left chasing shadows in the forests. His aim was not to destroy Aurelia, but to instill fear, hoping the northern duchies would turn their allegiance to him instead.

Even Thravenreach, once overlooked, found itself caught in the flames of Baran's raids.

King Halrix IV, the seasoned monarch of Aurelia, realised that these attacks from Flamewood were no mere nuisance. His army, with its superior might, could easily defeat them, but Halrix was a pragmatist. He knew the cost of such a war--lives lost, gold spilled--would be too great. Yet the discontent amongst the common folk threatened his rule. A decision loomed before him: to escalate the war, or to seek a more peaceful solution.

He chose both.

-----------------

Grandmaster Calvenor, the elder sage of the Temple of Stone in Aenlor, was a man of great wisdom. In his youth, he had wandered the lands as a scholar-philosopher, and in his later years, he had become a teacher of princes, sages, and warriors alike. His neutrality and prophetic insights made him a living legend across realms.

When King Halrix arrived at the temple, Calvenor greeted him with respect. "Praise the gods. King Halrix, the Temple of Stone welcomes thee," he said, his voice deep with reverence.

The two men sat in private.

"I can no longer bear this war, Calvenor," Halrix confessed. "I do not wish to appear weak, but I see no victor in this struggle. It is futile, and I know when I see futility."

"What would you have Calvenor do, King Halrix?" Calvenor inquired.

Halrix sighed. "In times of war, men forget the gods. They forget the things that matter most--trade, love, joy. Help me broker a peace with Baran. I want to see my people feasting again, loving their wives, and praising the gods. Let the war end."

"And what would you offer, King Halrix?" Calvenor asked.

Halrix explained his terms.

Chapter 4

Calvenor, having received Baran's consent, made his way to meet the chief. After several days' journey, he found himself in a secluded valley, surrounded by thick forests. There, deep within the heart of this wilderness, they gathered in the Temple of Fire. For three nights, Calvenor and Baran, alongside the wise elders of all southern tribes, deliberated and listened to Baran's terms.

At last, Calvenor proposed his terms and asked if Baran found them agreeable. Baran nodded in assent.

With the agreement sealed, Calvenor departed for Silvercourt, the grand capital of Aurelia, where King Halrix resided.

"Praise the gods. King Halrix," Calvenor began, his voice steady and measured, "Here is the proposal that I bring to thee. Let bloodshed end with bloodshed. Let fire marry ice and grant the world a summer. Chief Baran, in his wisdom, proposes to marry one of his sons into the royal bloodline of Aurelia. The duchy which is to be the bride's dowry shall fall under the dominion of Flamewoods, though Aurelia shall retain trading rights and religious freedoms. The Flamewoods shall guarantee safe passage for Aurelians--men, ships, and horses--for trade, diplomacy, and exploration in all the lands of the South. Aurelia shall cease its military operations and recognize Baran's dominion over the South."

King Halrix listened in silence, his brow furrowed as he pondered the proposal.

"Chief Baran has agreed to these terms," Calvenor continued. "You would do well to accept. Let us put an end to the age of bloodshed and usher in an age of gods."

King Halrix, weary of war and the toll it had taken, could see that this offer served both his kingdom and Baran's. With a deep sigh, he gave his consent.

-----------------

Meanwhile, in the study of Lord Aron, his daughter Princess Serelis, the pride of his household, approached him with a question as she observed the letter he had just read.

"What is this missive about, Father?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued by the pleased look upon her father's face.

Lord Aron set the letter aside with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "This may well be the path that leads you to the throne, Serelis."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "Halrix and Baran have reached an agreement of peace. As part of this accord, Halrix is to offer one of his daughters for marriage to Baran's son, cementing the alliance between their lands."

Serelis raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with defiance. "And you want me to wed this savage's son? Father, I will not marry a man who has no manners. He lives in the wilds, with no palaces to speak of."

Lord Aron's expression darkened with impatience. "Foolish girl! Do you not see the opportunity before you? By marrying Baran's son, you would become the Queen of Flamewood. Though it is not as grand as Aurelia, you would rule the entire South. Once you sit upon the throne, you shall have palaces beyond your imagining."

Serelis frowned, "But Flamewood chiefs have many wives. Do their kind even know silk? Their women must walk around naked"

Lord Aron was quick to press his point. "Must you really be so childish? Baran's eldest may already have a wife, but that matters not. Those women are plain and unrefined. You, Serelis, are a beauty beyond compare, and a woman of learning and grace. Any man who marries you will bend to your will, and through you, the kingdom will be yours to command."

The words of her father cut through Serelis like a sharp blade, and she began to see the truth in his words. She had inherited his cunning, after all. "You speak truly, Father," she said, her voice tinged with a calculating resolve and her face carrying a dangerous smirk.

Chapter 5

A few days hence, Grandmaster Calvenor arrived in person.

"Duke Aron of Velmorra, you may have already received word from King Halrix. Calvenor shall now state the proposal plainly. Chief Baran's middle son, Dale Flameborn, is strong and unmarried. By betrothing thy daughter to him, you would gain kinship with Chief Baran himself. After thee, Dale would ascend to the title of Duke. Thy customs, tongue, and faith would be honoured. Do thy part for the pact, and the gods shall be with thee."

Aron, upon hearing this, swiftly realised the offer was not as golden as it first appeared. To wed Serelis to Dale was a loss of all his ambitions. He had long desired a match for his daughter with a high king or prince, and Serelis, with her exceptional beauty, was worthy of such a union. But Dale, not being first born, would never sit upon the Flamewood throne. In truth, Aron would lose Velmorra as well. Baran had played a shrewd game. Yet Aron, ever cunning, knew he could strike two birds with one stone.

"Grandmaster," said Aron with calculated calm, "I hear thee, and I heed the command of King Halrix. Yet Serelis is but a naive girl, and I, still not old. Dale shall never control the Duchy for many years to come. This may well bring resentment swiftly. I propose a different path. Baran's son shall wed an Aurelian princess. Princess Aida of Thravenreach is of age and royalty in her own right. Though she is a woman, she is well-versed in the duties of court and diplomacy. Her father is no more, yet she stands strong. Should Dale wed her, he would swiftly become Duke. She is the better choice. Though I would have preferred kinship with Chief Baran, I owe it to my elder brother Akon for the sacrifices he made for both our family and Aurelia."

Calvenor, wise as he was, saw through the Duke's veiled intent. He had never held Aron in high regard, but he knew better than to let the pact fail. "It is understood, Duke Aron. You speak wisely. Calvenor shall send word of King Halrix's decree to Princess Aida and her mother."

As Calvenor departed, Aron, with a smug grin, turned to his daughter. "If Baran sends me a shadow, I shall send him a shadow in return."

Chapter 6

Alia had heard of the deal, and soon received King Halrix's commands through Aron. Her Naqari temper flared.

"Aron thinks himself clever. He believes he can deceive me," she spat, her voice thick with fury.

Aida sought to calm her. "It is not the worst of alliances, mother. We are but a small duchy. I am already twenty, and no Aurelian nobleman has shown interest. I am no beauty like you."

Aida was mistaken. While she did not possess the same striking beauty as her mother, she was tall and regal, her frame lean and her limbs long. Her pale, freckled skin, and fiery-red hair, usually braided or twisted into a modest bun, spoke of her nobility. Her grey eyes, though calm, held a quiet dignity. Unlike her mother, Aida was reserved and composed. Alia had trained her since childhood to be a queen, and as such, she rarely raised her voice or lost her temper. To strangers, Aida often appeared cold or haughty, but those loyal to her knew of her compassion and sharp wit. She was multilingual, well-versed in many tongues and scripts, and a diplomat like her father. She rode horses with the skill of most knights, though she lacked formal sword training. She understood military hierarchy and troop movement. Most times, she preferred simple yet elegant Aurelian gowns--practical, but not without an understanding of fashion. In an ideal world, Aida would have made a perfect queen.