Rǫgnvaldr
Commander || Male || Southern Winds || Mentions: Mavka, Arianwyn
Indirectly Mentions: Eyvǫr, Sikúnguaĸ, Hrǿríkr, Cassius, Arnviðr, Hondo
Inspecting his surroundings, Rǫgnvaldr cast a keen gaze over the landscape before him, ears twitching as a singular mosquito whined near his cheek. The morning fog had made it difficult to see thoroughly, causing the male to narrow his eyes until they were mere slits.
“Arianwyn,” he voiced, hearing the female before seeing her, the sound of muddy ground squelching beneath her steps. Her figure soon came into view, her greeting returned as he dipped his own head out of respect. “Good morning, I trust that you slept well?” Having known Arianwyn for years, both as a friend and as his sister’s closest companion, Rǫgnvaldr trusted her. This trust of his only grew when she and his sister, having fled from Everfree, crossed paths with himself and the Southern Wind Group. For Arianwyn to go with Eyvǫr and ensure his sister’s safety? Why, it was a debt that he could never repay. He saw the lengths she would go to for his family, which is why he had swiftly appointed her as his Lieutenant.
Yet, despite his trust, doubts lingered. He had never been told why they fled. Did they, like him, face the wrath of their father? What had driven Eyvǫr to leave when just months prior, she had refused to depart with him like their other siblings? What had shifted to prompt such a drastic action? However, Rǫgnvaldr had learned to suppress his inquiries, trusting that Arianwyn and his sister would share their stories when ready. His main, and only concern for the time-being, was to ensure their well-being. Arianwyn especially, given her current.. state. Not that she wasn’t capable. No, far from it, though Rǫgnvaldr would be lying if he claimed that he wasn’t worried. The Southern Winds Group had much to do, with tasks that bordered on dangerous. It was not suited for a most adults, let alone pups.
With these thoughts in mind, Rǫgnvaldr's gaze briefly flickered to his Lieutenant's stomach before snapping back to meet her eyes. Clearing his throat awkwardly, his posture stiffened as she mentioned keeping an open mind, a hint of tension rippling through him before subsiding. Despite his unease, he nodded subtly, understanding her request.
However, before she could utter a word, Mavka spoke first, urging them to move to The Conclave for more privacy. A small grin tugged at his lips. “Whatever would I do without you,” he spoke, trotting after her, his gaze watching her stride away. His gait wasn’t overly quick, purposefully slowing down into a leisurely stroll to ensure that Arianwyn wasn’t left behind. Despite that, his eyes never left Mavka’s figure, even after entering the mountain. Within it, he settled down near her, circling her a singular time before positioning himself by her side where he belonged.
“Now, I am fully attentive,” he assured Arianwyn, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “I promise to keep an open mind. Or, at least, I'll try.” Hopefully, it would suffice. Rǫgnvaldr wasn't sure what to expect, but the mention of his father tightened his jaw. “Why am I not surprised? It seems like he's always involved,” he remarked sarcastically, his disdain for Hrǿríkr evident in his tone as he continued to listen. Oh, what a mistake that was, for within moments, it was revealed that his sister was arranged to another, causing his molars to grind together.
“That old fool placed Eyvǫr with Drathellos?” He hissed out, snapping at the air with his teeth. “I know I promised to have an open mind, but this? This?” Breaking out into a pace, Rǫgnvaldr’s head swayed from side-to-side, hackles rising once more, his tail soon followed suit. “You would think that after my failed arrangement, he would have dropped the idea.” Glancing to Mavka, he shook his head, continuing his pace.
“Drathellos grovels at my father’s feet, it’s no wonder Eyvǫr was paired with him.” Pausing, he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply once more. “And what was my mother’s response to all of this?” He asked calmly, opening his eyes and looking to Arianwyn. “Let me guess, she doesn’t know any of it.” Tone nearly a mock, Rǫgnvaldr took another inhale, tone calming. “It doesn’t matter. What matters now is that Eyvǫr is here now and away from the lot of them. As are you.”
But the revelations didn't end there. As soon as he finished speaking, Arianwyn began recounting her own story, leaving Rǫgnvaldr momentarily stunned into silence. “You and Arnviðr?” he repeated, seeking confirmation, before muttering under his breath, “Well, I'll be damned,” blinking as the realization hit him. His expression, usually stoic, betrayed a mix of surprise and shock as he stared at Arianwyn's stomach, his mouth slightly agape. “My brother?” he queried again, needing confirmation as he continued to process the news, nodding along. It made sense to Rǫgnvaldr. Perfect sense.
Emotions surged within him – happiness at the thought of becoming an uncle mingled with an onset fury. “My father certainly enjoys meddling, doesn't he?” he sneered, his surprise giving way to a blank expression. “And Arnviðr is no better. He's as spineless as they come,” he spat, recalling his brother's refusal to stand up for him before leaving. Not a word to his father in his defense; he couldn’t even meet his gaze. “Does Arnviðr know?” he inquired, referring to the pups.
“As for your pups, Hrǿríkr will not touch them, you have my word. If you must trust anything I say, trust that they will be safe so long as I am here. I promise you that, Arianwyn.” If one thing was for certain, Rǫgnvaldr never backed out of his promises. He had always kept them, always. Mavka herself knew, for he had promised her him, and look at how well he kept his word.
“And,” he continued, “anyone with sense recognizes the sacrifice you made to become a Healer. Your talent is invaluable and will be respected. You will not be looked down on here.” It was no wonder that Hrǿríkr disregarded Arianwyn. The male found faults in everybody, so she was truly doomed from the start. Most are.
However, the conversation took a sharp turn when his younger brother, Sikúnguaĸ, was brought up. “I refuse to hear his name uttered,” he stated in a monotone voice, his tone turning steely. Sikúnguaĸ might as well have been dead to him. After all, he had always been their father’s favourite, and it seemed the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. It didn’t seem to sting Sikúnguaĸ when he usurped Rǫgnvaldr's title of Lord, nor did his brother protest when it was bestowed upon him. Despite Rǫgnvaldr's hard work and dedication to the role, his brother seemed indifferent. But then again, why would Sikúnguaĸ care? He had everything handed to him, he always had. Why would he ruin a good thing by defending his pathetic, older brother?
Turning away, Rǫgnvaldr dismissed the topic. He didn’t want to hear of Sikúnguaĸ, and yet, as Arianwyn continued to speak, a single ear turned in her direction, listening. “My brother,” he finally began, voice filled with contempt, “is the biggest coward of them all.” Glancing over his shoulder, he continued. “When I confronted Hrǿríkr’s mistreatment, not a single soul stood by me, not even Sikúnguaĸ. If the roles were reversed, if Sikúnguaĸ was in my place, I would have defended him with everything that I had, consequences be damned.” Raising his head, Rǫgnvaldr’s voice hardened. “Though I suppose that I wasn’t worth it.” – “Somehow, at some point, the family determined that I wasn’t worthy of being saved.”
He stopped speaking for a moment, fearing that his voice would crack or grow hoarse. “You say that Sikúnguaĸ looked up to me so, but where was he when it mattered?” Averting his gaze, he snorted, his chest tightening. His brother had hurt him like no other. He admitted, a part of himself felt a rather uncomfortable... pang of happiness at the thought of Sikúnguaĸ looking up to him once upon a time. But the mere mention of his brother filled him with equal parts dread and sorrow. He was betrayed by him, nothing would change that, and yet, a part of Rǫgnvaldr felt small. He knew first-handily how Hrǿríkr could be. It was clear that their father had gotten to Sikúnguaĸ like he had his other siblings. To turn his back on his brother now, well, wouldn’t he be a hypocrite?
Releasing a dragged-out sigh, his ears twitched, claws scraping against the ground slowly before halting at what Arianwyn spoke next. The mention, the mere idea, of his little brother being hurt by Hrǿríkr sent him into a spiral. All at once, Arianwyn’s voice grew quiet in his mind. Nostrils flaring, Rǫgnvaldr closed his eyes, silence taking over once more before it was suddenly broken by the sound of a rock being thrown across the cavern. “That bastard doesn’t have a right to be called our father,” he heaved, foam gathering at his lips as he practically snarled the words out. Beneath him, his legs had begun to twitch, eyes widening and darting around the room.
“I’ll kill him. I’ll grab his neck between my own teeth and snap it. I’ll make sure everybody hears it, you just wait and see. So help me, I’ll make his death as painful as it comes. I’ll.. I’ll..” Twitching, he mumbled out a series of incoherent sentences, nodding along to his own words like a madman. “First, I’ll make him apologize, and if he doesn’t.. If he doesn’t, I’ll take away a finger at a time. Or.. Or..” Continuing his ramble, his gaze shot to Mavka. “Maybe I go for the eyes?” Chest heaving, his claws dug into the stone beneath him, scraping against it and creating an uneasy screeching before halting. Beyond the rage he felt, beyond the anger and hurt, Rǫgnvaldr was afraid.
Rǫgnvaldr feared for Sikúnguaĸ in that moment, his hackles remaining raised at the mere thought, the mere idea of Hrǿríkr spilling Sikúnguaĸ’s blood. It made him unwell, nauseous, even, to the point where he turned away suddenly in fear of being sick.
“Forgive me,” he mumbled, gaze returning onto his Lieutenant. Taking a moment for himself and regaining his composure, he cleared his throat, voice rather shaky. “How long ago did all of this occur?” He asked, feeling rather disoriented at the news and attempting to remain calm. There was no denying that Rǫgnvaldr needed to act. They simply needed to work faster, that was all. Yes, he would put in more work, triple the amount. No, what he needed was to set up a meeting with Cassius, his little spy in Everfree. He needed him to check in on Sikúnguaĸ, and Arnviðr while he was at it. Perhaps even Hondo. He needed to ensure that they were safe, physically unharmed. God, the mental anguish wasn’t enough; it had to become physical.
“I have one more question,” he said, his voice steadying. “The apprentice, what is her name?” The very thought of his brother loving another swelled his heart faintly, yet also broke it. Rǫgnvaldr knew very well what the outcome would be. Hrǿríkr had always reveled in playing matchmaker, orchestrating unions both for Eyvǫr and for himself.
Rǫgnvaldr remembered when he first laid eyes on his very own Mavka. He swore, the world itself halted. He also remembered his father’s vehement disapproval of his feelings. In Hrǿríkr’s eyes, Mavka was a negative influence, tarnishing his son’s reputation—a notion he couldn't tolerate. To put it plainly: she was deemed unworthy. Consequently, Rǫgnvaldr was compelled into a betrothal with another, in hopes of severing his bond with Mavka. So, Phaedra was introduced.
Despite being promised to another, Rǫgnvaldr wouldn’t, couldn’t stay away from Mavka, breaking every rule to be with her. It was one of the main reasons as to why he left. It was the push he needed to depart once and for all, for if he couldn’t be with Mavka, what good was living? Setting his gaze upon her, he found himself leaning against her gently. He often needed to, simply to remind himself that she was truly there and not a figment of his imagination.
Huffing, Rǫgnvaldr set his attention upon the cavern wall before him momentarily. If one thing were certain, he was determined, now more than ever, to take down Hrǿríkr. It was clear that every problem led to him, it always had.
“My mother needs to find out about this,” he spoke plainly. “And I need to reach Cassius. Not to mention, we must reinforce the territory and confirm our next moves.” There was much to do, and Rǫgnvaldr's patience just became that much shorter.