For the first official meeting with Lord Picard, Sir David had made sure his son would be dressed appropriately. Though the Rangers were formidable warriors, not only form afar, but also up close, they weren't know as it. The corps was clouded in secrecy to not only the citizens of Araluen, but also other countries. In his usual uniform, he would not leave a good lasting impression. The first time had only been excusable, because he had been traveling.

So, a servant had laid out a dark blue velvet coat that barely reached beyond his waist. The buckles were made out of leather, simple yet formal. And most importantly, it was practical. Something that could be worn into battle. After all, the Northerlings had a taste for blood and anything that reminded them of war or decay, was poetry in their eyes.

Gilan took one look in the mirror and frowned. It was not his usual get-up, but it would do. He wrapped a leather belt over the coat and sheathed a long, heavy sword in it. His usual he left behind, as it wouldn't be 'as impressive', his father had said. For safety he hid his smallest throwing knife in his new boots. Another requirement of his father, one he did not see the purpose of. Worn shoes showed more warrior spirit than anything else.

No one had shown him how to tie them, so they were a bit crossed and the young Ranger was sure he would fall over them at some point. With a final heavy sigh he walked out the door, heart pounding and his last meal sitting dangerously high. He had difficulty eating ever since he'd arrived; more than two bites and he felt it would come up again. It hadn't surprised him that he'd looked thinner: illness plagued his mind and body.

The new leather boots clacked harshly against wooden floors in the hallways leading to the Baron's study. He was very carefully placing his feet, so the laces wouldn't get tangled up, when a second pair of hasty footsteps echoed the halls. The tall man raised his gaze to see a small woman approach. She would barely touch his shoulder standing next to him, but her features were set so that she seemed taller, more gracious.

For a moment, the exact second they passed, he looked at her and then he fell. His balance, so abruptly disrupted, caused him to hold on to the person nearest. Which happened to be the red-headed beauty. They smacked against the hard floor, the lady having the luck of landing with her head on Gilan's stomach. Our young friend however wasn't so fortunate, as he was stomped in the stomach, hit his head on the planks and had to detangle his shoes.

But he was on his feet quickly, to help the fallen lady. "My apologies, it appears that-"

She accepted his hand and rose elegantly, a movement so agile it could've been a dance. "Save your worries, it happened and nothing is to be done about it now. I just don't want your incompetence to be my problem any longer." Her tone was that of someone describing a bug they'd squashed square against the wall.

The woman dusted off the outer part of her dress that was colored a dark red. The white part in the middle had been unharmed. Gilan noticed Scottic rhunes on the decorated edge bordering the two. She had to be one of the companions that travelled with Lord Picard. If she was, he dearly hoped they wouldn't meet again, because her countenance had already rubbed him the wrong way. Talking him down after having just met; that was only a privilege given to his fellow Rangers.

With one last cold look, she strode off not once looking back. Huffing and shaking his head, Gilan continued on. When he finally reached the heavy oak door he pushed down the iron handle and entered. All eyes in the room turned to him. Three powerful men, welcomed their soon-to-be fourth.

"Sorry for the delay," the tall Ranger smoothly apologized as he performed a flawless bow, "I had some trouble on the way here." He shot his father a vicious glance, somehow blaming him for the incident.

"You are not late boy," an icy gaze landed on him, freezing him on the spot, "we were early."

That pair of eyes, it was enough to make Gilan shiver. As if they could look right through him, no, beyond that. They reminded him of descriptions he'd read somewhere, but he couldn't quite place them. Once his apprentice arrived, he'd ask her. She was a walking encyclopedia on all of their past missions.

He moved closer to the table they surrounded. Their hands were planted on it and they looked like the King and his men had right before the battle against Morgarath. What these men were studying was surprisingly similar. It was a map of the Northern part of Araluen and all of Picta. The names were different, so it had to have been the Lord who had brought it with him. The northern country was broken into pieces, the majority of it colored a dark red and but some in blue, yellow and one in purple.

"Through this union, Araluen and Picta's treaty would be renewed." Sir David stated, making a mental note to have correspondence with the King shortly about all this. Of course nothing was final until the vows had been said, so until then there was time. Time to negotiate the terms of the dowry.

The men further talked about the conditions of the marriage, which lands would be given, the trading possibilities that would open up and of course the matter of which castle would be his. The Lord had proposed one in the High North, Dunrobin. Winters there would be cold and no summers. Sir David had immediately objected as it would be too far to travel for him and he wasn't getting any younger. So, a new offer was made: Blair Castle,

An invisible rope snaked around Gilan's neck and he felt he couldn't breathe. His respiration became shorter and quicker. All of those things, he would have to do. Every time the men's gloves would wrinkle or his chains clung, his throat would close up more. His sight would became extremely focused, like looking through a glass pipe.

"And what of this piece of land?" Baron Fergus pointed at the solitary lands in purple bordering Araluen, "is it not of the MacFrewin clan? If we could have a fief next to-"

"That one, we do not control." The light in the Scottic lord's eyes glistered dangerously, as if he were to say the matter were closed with and touching it again would be the last thing they'd ever do.

Silence filled the room, but not a comfortable one. It was a quiet before the storm. And then the first lightning struck.

"We are to receive an eligible heir."

The Scotii Lord might have just as well shot an arrow through Gilan's heart, because it would've pained him just as much. There was one thing the young Ranger had longed for more than to be what he was and that was to be a good father. Unlike his own, to be better.

It was the final drop that made the kettle boil. He stormed out of the chamber, not even bothering to close the door behind him. In one straight line he headed for the one place he knew would clear his mind.

The walk to the battle school grounds was long, long enough for him to keep on replaying everything in his head.

An heir.

The words kept repeating over and over until it started hurting his mind. And the only way he could get it out was by hitting the leather dummies lined up in the training field as hard as he was able to with one of the practice swords there. His fine steel one he'd cast aside quickly, the sight of it almost made him sick.

The wooden blade felt a bit too light in his hand and he had to take a few loose swings and grip it differently before he had found the right balance. Then he begun: one thrust forward, backhand side, overhand and overhand backhand. One of the simplest drills there was, but it was the easiest to lose himself in the rhythm.

Thrust, side cut, backhand side, overhand, overhand backhand. Thrust, side cut, backhand side, overhand, overhand backhand. Thrust, side cut, backhand side, overhand, overhand backhand.

With each sequence he hit the sun-hardened leather padding on the practice posts faster, with more force. The dents never became deeper, but the sword did make an odd sound. However, he persevered.

An heir.

Slowly the world started fading and the only thing Gilan heard was his own thoughts, his own fears, drowning him with each blow to the post. Time was the least of his concerns. And so he hadn't noticed his father walk up when the sun had reached its highest point, even though it was hidden by a thick layer of grey clouds.

"That was quite the scene you made earlier."

The only reply Sir David got was the rhythmic sound of wood hitting leather. He knew his son and chances were, he wasn't getting one soon. Ever since he'd been a little child, this was where he'd go when he was upset, even when that was about training ironically. The tall man frowned as he studied Gilan's face a bit better. His eyes were entirely focused on the wooden pole, sweat was dripping from his forehead and his jaw was clenched. If he were to draw his attention now, he'd probably get something flung at his head.

"We finished the meeting and have agreed on the terms," a pair of green eyes landed on David, his muscles tensed, making him look even taller and he gripped the wrapped hilt of his sword, "the invitations will be sent out once we've received the dowry."

The beats had stopped, Gilan stood motionless, petrified. His chest heaved heavily. He'd had hours to build the anger he felt towards his father, but he had tried not to let it boil over. Hearing his voice however was too much. This burning heat in his head exploded and he swung the blade at Sir David who, in one swift movement, had raised his own sword and parried the overhand move with ease, hitting the weakest spot and shattering it into splinters. Because of the hours it had been worn off, it broke easily and fell in two pieces to the ground.

"I've excused your behavior with Lord Picard as your being very ill all of the sudden," Sir David spoke, shoving the two useless pieces of wood around with his foot thoughtlessly,"Tomorrow you will meet Enox for the first time. She's a beautiful girl, you're very lucky."

"Don't speak to me of luck," Gilan bitterly replied, gathering his broken sword. Because if he'd truly been fortunate, if the gods had smiled down on him, he would've been allowed to love someone else.

A/N:
So as many of you might've already seen, I've rewritten Like a thief in the Night!! It's way more readable now. I did change some things, like the mission in the mountains of Rain and Night, and the first like 7 chapters. The idea is roughly the same, but still wayyyy different bc I'm a better writer now than I was at 15 hahah.

Question of the day: who is your all time favourite fictional crush?

I think mine is obvious...

Xxx Maddie