Kindly edited by @CollinHarrison4

Juno sighed when she looked at the force Bynard assembled. Plenty of men, yet many without swords. Waist blades attached to sticks - threatening to be sure, but wood was no replacement for metal.

"You doubt them, my lady?" Bynard asked in a whisper.

She stood taller and hid the concern on her face. "Not their heart; it is the tools of war they lack."

"More have arrived this morning - a gift from Fingers," Bynard said. "We gain as the King loses. It is time we need, nothing more."

"Aye," Juno said, nodding with a confidence she did not feel. Time was not a resource they had in abundance. Kelton was sure their needs would be fulfilled, though she struggled to trust his faith. It was easier when he was standing next to her, and all seemed possible. Separation altered her impression of the world, shifting everything toward dire. They were stronger together.

"He comes!" one of the ready force announced.

Juno turned and saw Kelton approaching with a light in his eyes. He moved as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. When he saw her, a smile full of mischief appeared as if there were no worries worth their bother. There was much of the boy she first met in that face.

"Well done," Kelton said, addressing the force. "You are not needed this day, but it hardens my resolve to see you gathered so quickly and with purpose. The King is lucky he did not test us this day."

Boisterous challenges to King and Brethren were shouted in return. Juno could see the relief masked as pride in many of the faces. They would fight when called, yet they were not ready.

"Know this," Kelton shouted, attracting ears from afar. "The bows we desire are marching our way as I speak." He smiled like the sun emerging after days of rain. "They come with skilled warriors to wield them. I believe they are led by one I trust with my life."

"Yanda?" Juno asked. Kelton replied with a pleased nod as cheers echoed in the trees. The idea of Yanda arriving with a force was not as appealing as it should have been. Kelton spoke too highly of the woman - a sister he called her, and his smile portrayed his strong respect. Juno hated the thought that infected her mind. What if Yanda desired more? Perhaps the woman returned home and found no one who equaled Kelton. A princess unscathed by the curse and bearing powerful gifts would be difficult to deny.

"Bynard, O'fan is guiding an ex-lord and his men here," Kelton said. "They are skilled with the sword, so put them to training others. Trust them with nothing of matter until we have time to take their measure."

"Aye, sire," Bynard replied with surprise. "Lords and bows - things move fast this day."

"Aye," Kelton agreed. He turned to Juno, "I must speak with Taggert and Rebecca before the lord arrives. Will you gather them?" Juno nodded, her mind awash with silly fears of a princess she never met. His heart was hers, she told herself, though the idea was stronger a moment ago.

Juno undid her second attempt since the twisted hairs failed to stay firm. She tightened her lips and began again, this time with fewer strands in each group and four groups instead of three.

"I do not understand the need," Kelton said, fidgeting as if it caused pain he should not have to endure. Getting him to sit still was becoming a struggle.

"It is you who told me she weaved your hair each morn," Juno said. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, which seemed to settle him. "You are to greet a princess, so I must make you presentable." Yanda held too many of his memories. Juno thought it best that she did the weaving and not leave it to chance - like a she-wolf marking her territory.

"Different styles have different meanings," Kelton said. "I do not know which is which, and nor do you."

The weave tightened easily this time, holding its own. It was not the twist initially desired, but it held nicely, creating bold waves like water flowing over rock. "It means you are king," she said, and smiled when she sensed the roll of his eyes.

"Do you not think the men here will find it odd?"

"It is not done to impress them," Juno said. She began with another lot of strands, now that the first had held so well. Pride began to enter the task. "It is a good look, I think." She scooted closer to his back and wrapped her feet around him and over his thighs to still him further.

Kelton smiled and removed her boot. "Mayhap I should weave your toes." It was a ticklish attempt.

"Stop," Juno said as she weaved on. His fingers turned from naughty to loving, caressing the soles of her feet in a most delicious way. She sighed, which he took as permission to bare her other foot.

"Mayhap this is not so bad," Kelton said, his hands working magic as she weaved.

"Do you think she is changed?" Juno asked. The weave had become habitual to her fingers, no longer requiring deep thought; a smooth pattern of over and under, entwining his fiery mane into something more manageable - pretty in a way.

"Changed?"

"She has returned to her birthright," Juno said. "I would think she rules now, and all do her will. Mayhap she is not as kind - nay, kind is not the right word. Tolerant - aye, not as tolerant." She ended a column of weave and began another. Yanda could not be as perfect as Kelton remembered.

"Nay," Kelton said, shaking his head.

"Stay still," Juno ordered, almost losing her place. "Did she not think you dead?"

"Tarvakian and Filgot told her as much," Kelton replied without moving his head. "She did not believe it." Juno thought she heard pride in the answer.

"She left you," Juno remarked.

"There was naught she could do," Kelton said. He paused for a moment, then added, "You wish me to think on something, do you not?"

"It is..." Juno began, then changed her words to something less fraught with her misgivings. "It is these kings and lords and princesses, my love. They do not think as we do. Gains and the ways to keep them are all they seek. It is hard to see through their words and find where greed leads them."

Kelton smiled. "There is truth in your words, my love, though know that my sister Yanda is plain to me." He chuckled. "Though tolerance is not always strong in her - of that you see true."

"Sister," Juno whispered. She had not meant it to be aloud.

"I have family all about. Fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers in abundance." Kelton shrugged. "A thing of my mind, built from dreams of the family I never knew."

"Now you have me," Juno said.

"Aye," Kelton said. "You are no sister or mother, for I desire your lips."

She smiled at his words as she continued to crisscross strands of hair. "I worry on all who are like this Brandish - do you not think he has plans beyond yours?"

"Aye," Kelton agreed, his head remaining completely still. Juno sensed he was beginning to like her ministrations. "As I told Taggert and Rebecca, he will be handled with distrust. Alas, his skill with the sword is a gift I cannot deny." There was a short pause. "I worry on those, like Mannily, who will take up a sword in my name and fall as quickly. Death should never be useless, and if Brandish can bolster the skills of a few, I will gamble on it."

"And Yanda brings warriors," Juno said, the words springing from her mouth before she could stop them. The idea of Yanda refused to recede.

"There is no deceit in her," Kelton said. "Unlike Brandish, I trust her as I trust you."

Being equal was not the position Juno desired. She knew Kelton meant nothing by it, but there was power in being in his heart. Yanda had a firm hold, perhaps more than any other, save Juno. A princess might desire a future king. That same king might desire something Juno could not give: a family of his blood. She hated her thoughts, for she knew them to be foolish.

"Mayhap, I should go with you to greet her," Juno said.

"Nay," Kelton said. "It is best if half of me stays here through you. I have watched your stature grow, my love. We are symbols now, and the more all see of us, the better."

Juno weakly nodded her agreement as she reached the end of her weaving. "I worry when we are apart."

"As do I," Kelton said. He reached up and sampled the weaving with his fingers. "If not for this war, I would see us never parted."

Juno smiled true, Kelton's words a song in her heart. Perhaps she was giving too much credit to his memories. His persistent dreams of Serenity held no power over his devotion, so why should she worry on a princess bearing gifts?

Kelton leaned forward and kissed Juno's toes, a ticklish maneuver that brought out a giggle and almost tipped her backward. He put her boots back on and rose, his hand bringing her to her feet as well.

"I will blame you when the men laugh at me," Kelton said, flicking the weave with his hand. There was humor in his threat.

"Let them laugh," Juno said. "It pleases me to see your hair tamed." She reached up and ran her fingers through it, admiring her work. What she had thought would be tedious was pleasurable in a way. Yanda would have to find another head, of that she was sure.

There were snickers as they moved through the camp. Many were pointing, but Kelton appeared unfazed by the attention.

"That is a look," Gossamer said with humor in his eyes. Bynard, who was sitting next to him, covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Juno stared him down until his lips uncurled.

"A wise look," Kelton said. "Sorinnian men are honored by their women with such weaves. Juno thought it best I am seen in a good light."

"It shows strength." The words caught Juno by surprise. She turned to see Serenity approaching from behind, her eyes trained on Kelton's hair. "For those with none behind them are weak." She smiled. "And I like the look of it. So much more appealing than the chaotic mess on top of most heads."

Serenity's power of persuasion stifled the jocularity. What was once thought absurd became a serious consideration. When she reached up and assessed one of Kelton's weaves, Juno knew half the men desired it to be their head she fondled. A new trend may begin.

"It is a good look," Gossamer agreed, though his smile did not dissipate.

Rolic woke from fitful dreams, the Knowing alive with someone near. With eyes crusted, he forced himself to his elbows and suffered the daylight's attack. "I need nothing," he mumbled with a weak voice, preferring to be left alone. It would be better to fade away than to linger on in weakness by eating. One more night, he thought, as he had for the last five days.

"I bring you nothing, Brother." The voice spoke with superiority.

Rolic's eyes focused on a bearded man wearing colors and privileged pride, sitting on the ground with a patient air as if waiting for the world to bow. There was none of the want in his eyes as seen in most of this land. This man had never suffered for lack of food or shelter. Rolic chuckled.

"Hold Lord..." Rolic began, struggling to dig into his sluggish memory.

"Brandish," the man completed.

Rolic nodded, though it pained him to do so. "I would have woken if there were a battle, and your colors would have given away a ruse. Has the Answer turned you as well?"

"Mayhap I have turned him," Brandish replied.

Rolic could feel the camp's motion. Men and women, whose numbers continued to grow, moved about as if nothing had changed. Even his impending death would not alter that. "Nay. Kelton will not shift from his goal while he breathes."

Brandish nodded his agreement. "You are an odd Brother. I have never seen one embrace death when life is but a daughter away."

Rolic forced himself to a full sitting position, helped in part by Brandish. He leaned back against the tree he had claimed as his final home. "It is a long process, this death. Mayhap the world is not done with me, though I am long finished with her."

"I had heard tales that a Brother had become consul to the Answer. It pains me to see you unfit for such service. If I am to fight in this war, then I wish it with all advantages," Brandish said. He spoke like Rolic was an asset, not unlike a sword. There was no humanity in it.

"Your unmet desires do not pain me," Rolic countered. Perhaps he could start a fight, one he would surely lose - Knowing or not. There was some justice in being ended by another who had denied the Promise.

"Do you remember their names?" Brandish asked.

Rolic would have preferred a sword thrust into his chest than contemplate the answer to that question. It was the same one he had asked before his first rebirth. Brandish, in his lordly way, was more curious than cruel. Rolic could remember when he was as callous in his words. Perhaps he still was.

"Aye," Rolic sighed. It was a lie. Perhaps he could recall half of his daughter's names. It was the faces that haunted him - those were branded in his mind and returned in night terrors. "Do you seek a reason for not claiming the same?"

"In truth," Brandish said, his eyes weakening as they found the ground, "I seek a reason for being a fool and not following my fathers before me. Death is such a final thing."

"I have come to see the contrary," Rolic said. His eyes found the ground and trained on a small green thing that struggled to grow between the roots of his tree. "There was a time when I grew in mind each day. Failures were lessons, and successes bloomed as pride." He carefully ran his fingers along what looked to be a tiny sapling. "Men flocked to my side, and I grew a kingdom from a tiny seed of an idea." He looked up. "Do you know what I have done in the last thousand winters?"

Brandish shook his head in reply.

"Nothing but seek more winters. There is no pride in it, only perpetual sameness - each day bleeding into the next, promising nothing." Rolic smiled. "The days will soon end for me, and I find some pride in that. I know that after I have breathed my last, I will have made this world better for leaving it." He shrugged. "At least it will not be me claiming another daughter."

"Less death," Brandish agreed, nodding as if Rolic had given him the justification he needed. Choices are greedy contrivances, always needing to be supported even after they are made.

"I have faded from the knowing of things," Rolic admitted. "How fares the coming war?"

"The army grows in numbers yet lacks skill," Brandish said. "Many will die in what is to come. My men and I train as many as we can." He shook his head. "Winters of skill cannot be born in a moon."

"You doubt Kelton?" Rolic asked. There was some humor in his question, for he bore the same doubts not long ago.

"Odd how I do not, yet am still wary of the outcome," Brandish said. "He has left to retrieve one he names sister who has answered his call. She brings an army with her."

"An army?"

"Aye," Brandish said. "Bearing sorely needed bows."

"And the skill to wield them," Rolic added. "Where does this army hail from? Who would deny the Promise and step upon this land?"

"I know little of the world beyond the sea," Brandish said. "He said she was a princess of Sorinnia, a land ruled..."

"By women," Rolic interrupted, adding a hoarse chuckle. "He has found a hole in the Promise. Do you not see that he is truly the Answer?"

"It is only an old tale," Brandish said as if it were a noxious idea.

"Tale or not, it moves like the wind, bending trees and molding mountains. Something is pushing him. I know not what, but it seeks to end the Promise. For that, I am grateful to play a part."

"He possesses too much compassion," Brandish said. "One cannot win a war when one fears the death of others."

"I believe that is the last-of-the-line's duty," Rolic said. He had stopped harassing Kelton on the subject, but it had never left his mind. It was the last part that needed to unfold. "She must bond with him, and then her sacrifice will break his shackles of empathy. Anger will become hate, and his fury will know no limits."

"Juno?" Brandish asked. "Are they not bonded?"

"Juno is not her," Rolic replied. "It is Serenity who is the last-of-the-line. Mayhap you have met her?"

"The one who outshines the Goddess with her smile," Brandish said with a grin. "She has been the talk of my men. Few would deny her if she desired them."

"Kelton denies her, or at least the mounting of her," Rolic said. "If the tale be true and those two join, then victory will follow. All else has come to pass, yet that piece has stalled. In truth, he will hear no more of it from me, and I am in no condition to do battle with his will."

"It is a tale, nothing more," Brandish said.

"It is that tale that brings hope," Rolic argued. "This army gathers because of it. Swords and bows mean nothing without the hope of a new king. It is all the more powerful when it is believed to be the Goddess' plan."

"Mayhap Juno needs to be removed," Brandish calculated.

Rolic's chest hurt when he tried to laugh. The Hold Lord knew nothing of Kelton. It took a moment to stop sputtering and regain his breathing. "End her, and your death would be his sole goal. After which, he would leave this land to its horrors, for his hope will have fled with her. Imagine the lessons the Brethren would teach in his absence."

Rolic wiped his mouth to clear the spittle that had collected at the corner. "Nay, it must be Juno who steers him to his duty, yet trying to persuade her will likely earn you a blade in the belly."