Private Tales Shallow Graves

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Leoric brought the big Friesian around, iron-shod hooves striking sparks from the cobbles.

Chaos had erupted around them. Shouts and bodies diving aside. The gates ahead were already moving.

Aetheris reared, forelegs flashing, and Althea’s cry cut through the din. Leoric saw her slip, saw her lunge forward and press both hands to the mare’s neck.

Leoric’s heart slammed against his ribs. He pushed Astraeus harder, closing the gap.

"Hold on!" he bellowed over the thunder of hooves.

Leoric drew the warhammer in a single fluid motion. He swung down as Althea regained control. He broke a shoulder, cleared a path.

Althea said:
“Go!” she screamed, voice wild with panic over the thunder of hooves.
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Althea shot past him like a white streak, hair whipping, the mare’s hooves scraping the stones as she ducked low under the bars. Leoric followed a heartbeat later, ducking so close the iron teeth raked across his greatcoat, tearing cloth but missing flesh.

They burst through into the open road beyond the walls, the roar of pursuit muffled behind the slamming gate.
 
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This had to be the worst idea she’d ever had, and she’d had some truly catastrophic ones.

All she could do was cling on, thighs burning, fingers locked in the reins as she fought to keep the mare steady and forward. The world was noise and motion and fear, iron grinding overhead and men shouting behind her. She heard Leoric’s voice felt the thunder of another horse closing fast at her back.

Relief crashed through her so hard it almost stole her breath as she ducked low, folding herself over Aetheris’s neck as the gate screamed down inches above her back. Then they were through, Althea risked a glance over her shoulder just in time to see iron slam shut on their assailants..

She laughed then, half-hysterical, and slapped Aetheris’s neck with a shaking hand. “Good girl,” she gasped, still gripping like her life depended on it. Because it had.

With Astraeus pulling alongside her, Thea looked Leoric with wide eyes and a disbelieving shake of her head, breath puffing out in ragged bursts.

“That was..” she tried, then just laughed again, weak and breathless. Too close. Far, far too close.

They didn’t slow for a long while. Only when the road stretched empty behind them and the city had sunk back into the distance did they finally ease their mounts down to a walk, then turn off the road and into the thick green of the valley forest. Leaves swallowed sound. The air grew cool and damp and clean, so different from the Shallows it almost hurt to breathe it in.

By the time they reached the river, the adrenaline had burned itself out, leaving only ache and trembling in its wake. Althea tried to shift in the saddle and immediately hissed, pain flaring through her back and legs. It was too far a drop and she wasn't exactly sure how much control she had over her legs right now.

She stayed where she was, shoulders slumping, one hand resting against the mare’s neck.
“Thank you,, Leoric..” she said quietly, her voice stripped of its bite and bravado. “For coming back.. You didn't have to..”
 
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Alliria outskirts

Leoric guided Astraeus to a gentle halt beside the riverbank, the big Friesian’s sides heaving but steady. He let the reins fall loose across the stallion’s neck and sat motionless for a moment, listening to the water murmur over stones and the distant call of a hawk overhead.

The pleasant and quiet and green swallowing the last echoes of pursuit.

He turned in the saddle when Althea spoke.

Her voice had lost its edge, stripped raw by the ride and the fear that still lingered in her wide eyes. The thanks landed soft, almost hesitant, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say it.

Leoric exhaled slowly, the sound rough in his throat. His darkened left hand flexed once, embers dim beneath the skin, then stilled.

She had laughed like a mad creature as she had continued her flight. Her defiance against Gav had bordered on suicidal..

Perhaps she was completely mad, but it felt right to do just a little good.

"You’re welcome," he said quietly.

He met her gaze, storm-blue eyes steady despite the fatigue carving lines around them.

"I used to stand up for people sometimes.

He glanced at the way she held herself—rigid, trembling, too proud or too sore to dismount—and his expression softened.

"You're probably bleeding. Let me help you down before you fall off that mare and undo every stitch I put in."

He swung his leg over Astraeus’s back and dropped to the ground with a soft thud, boots sinking into the mossy bank. The warhammer stayed hooked to the saddle; he made no move to reach for it. Instead he stepped to Aetheris’s near side, hands open and visible.
 
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I used to stand up for people sometimes.

Thea’s lips curved into something soft at that. Well, she was glad that he had, in her case.

Any stubborn refusal she might’ve mustered withered as he came to her side. She let out a breath and reached for him, careful as her arms wound around his neck. She'd no doubt feel weightless in his arms, given that she was lighter than the weapon he chose to carry.

Pain bloomed and Thea hissed, a small, whimpered sound, forehead dropping briefly to his shoulder as he lifted her down. Her legs wobbled treacherously as her feet touched the ground, aching from clinging to the saddle, and she clung to him a second longer than necessary, embarrassed but unwilling to risk gravity just yet.

“Gods,” she muttered under her breath, then softer, again, “Thank you…”

She finally eased back enough to look up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes still bright with leftover adrenaline. The forest pressed close around them, green and alive and mercifully, indifferently calm.

“You think we’ll be safe to rest a while here?” she asked, hopeful but wary, glancing back through the trees the way they’d come. “Just for a little while. I don’t think my legs would forgive me if we tried to run again just yet.”

“I think I owe her a rest too.” she laughed under her breath with a glanced gratefully at the grey mare.
 
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Leoric held her steady as she slid down, arm firm around her waist until her feet found solid ground. She felt light as air in his grip, trembling from the ride and pain.

He didn’t rush her when she clung a second longer. When she eased back, cheeks flushed, he met her eyes quietly.

"You’re welcome," he said simply. "I chose this."

He guided her to a mossy spot by the riverbank and helped her sit. A quick glance confirmed the stitches held, though fresh blood spotted the bandages.

"Safe enough here for an hour or two," he told her. "River hides us. Trees block the road. Gav’s men aren’t trackers."

The horses continued to graze as he rested his legs.

"What brought you to defy him?" Leoric asked.
 
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Thea let herself sink into the moss with a soft, pained sound. Her legs throbbed, deep and insistent, and she dragged a hand over her face before exhaling long and slow.

“Gods,” she muttered. “I swear I’m going to wake up tomorrow and not be able to walk at all.”

The river helped. The quiet helped more. Her shoulders slowly dropped as she watched the water slide past the banks, the willow’s long fingers brushing the surface like it was half asleep too. For the first time since last night, she felt at ease.

Then he asked that. She blinked, genuinely thrown, and turned to look at him before scoffing sharply.

“Me?” She gave a short, incredulous laugh. “No no, I didn’t defy him. He was the one wanted to cut me out for a better share, remember?... Sure, I skimmed a little here and there, but he never knew about that. I was careful.” she insisted, then gave him a pointed look.

“You were the one who stepped in. You were the one who put a hammer to his head.”

Her gaze softened, just a fraction, as she looked away again toward the river. “I was just trying not to die.” she shrugged.
 
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Leoric sat with his back against a low willow trunk, knees drawn up, warhammer resting across them. The river’s murmur filled the quiet between them.

He listened to her scoff, the incredulous laugh, the pointed reminder that he was the one who’d swung the hammer. His mouth twitched in acknowledgement.

"Fair point," he said quietly. "I did swing first."

He looked down at the scarred left hand resting on the haft, embers dim beneath cracked skin.

"But you could have walked away with nothing," he added.
 
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Althea followed his gaze briefly to the hand resting on the hammer, to the faint glow beneath ruined skin. Her expression tightened for a moment, then smoothed.

“Yeah, well…” she shrugged one shoulder carefully, wincing at the pull in her back. “You could have let them kill me. And you didn’t.” she said plainly.

Her fingers absently plucked at a bit of moss beside her boot. “I’m sick of walking away with nothing,” she added, her tone dry..

Her gaze lifted to his face, then dropped back to his hand.

“…Does it hurt?” she asked quietly with a careful sort of concern.
 
"I told myself I was just tired of watching people get ground down. Tired of pretending it didn’t matter anymore." A small shrug lifted one shoulder.

His gaze drifted to the water, following a leaf as it spun past.

"You fought like hell to keep breathing. That’s more than most manage in the Shallows." He paused, voice dropping softer.

"This?" he raised the hand. "No. Just a reminder."
 
She gave a slow nod as he spoke, though his words about her fighting drew a small, humourless huff from her.

“I wasn’t fighting,” she murmured. “I was panicking with commitment.”

But there was no real dismissal in it. She knew what he meant.

When he lifted his hand and called it a reminder, her eyes followed the motion, studying the faint glow beneath his skin.

“Reminder of what?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
 
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The word shame made something in her go still, her shoulders drawing in a fraction, breath tightening in her chest.

She knew that word well.

Her gaze fell back to his hand, and she swallowed and gave a slow, silent nod.

She too had broken oaths once. Not knightly ones. Not holy ones. But promises all the same. She carried her punishment every day, as he did.

“Sorry,” she said quietly after a moment. “I shouldn’t pry. It’s not my business.”

But there was no judgement in he voice, only a quiet sort of recognition.

When he spoke of nearly watching her lose her head, her lips curled in dry amusement.

“Hm. Yes, well…” she exhaled through her nose. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The smirk lingered faintly, though her fingers unconsciously brushed the back of her throat, appreciating for a moment that her head was in fact, still attached.

“I do tend to commit fully to my mistakes,” she added lightly. “Wouldn’t want to do anything halfway.” she shrugged.
 
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"I will speak of what I wish to," he said, but the words were gentle. It was a reprisal, merely letting her know that the worst she could draw from him was silence.

"How could you..."

Deal with worse?

Leoric didn't finish the question. He struck him that there were many ends worse than a quick back and forth of the blade.

"You weren't born in Alliria," he observed.
 
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