A quick short starter I wrote for a paired writing session with a friend.
On and off for the last few years, Brunny had come and gone from her home away from home. Over the years she had returned now and again and had made sure to send letters warning of her arrival; most of them just simple “I AM COMING” as a wind up for her best friend the Queen.
She could hear it now ‘You never write’, ‘you never let us know you’re coming’. The same old argument from her. Sometimes the letter arrived and for weeks she did not turn up until just as everyone assumed she would not arrive… she arrived.”You know the mail isn’t instant, I do travel by horse you know and have to travel the world fighting.” She had told Elly once.
Then sometimes she’d arrive the same day as the letter. One time she arrived before the letter, an obvious wave of her hands at the postal carrier as to confirm her previous words.
This time she had not told anyone. It had not been her idea, it had been her son Florian’s.
The fourteen year old rode his own horse not far ahead of her, today he was on point and kept an eye on the road, although Brunny did too, she would never lose that edge she had.
Forty years old this coming month. This was her reason for coming home. She had been 27 when ‘Florian’ was born to her. Well, not born per say. She felt old, her body ached in places that it shouldn’t and although she had been fighting and keeping herself well she had been slowing down a lot; too many close calls. Still, she could easily be taken for someone half her age; too many young men professing their love for her and she was old enough to be their mother twice over.
She had been told by many that she should retire, start her own mercenary company but she didn’t like business. She preferred to fight. She was comfortable in her coinage and had investments, it meant she could pick and chose her jobs.
Florian on the other hand was becoming a proper man, at fourteen he was still young but he was as young as she was when she had set off on her adventure to murder her father.
With a soft smile she watched the boy ahead, he looked so much like his ‘father’, the Duke she had married and lost. His dark black hair and darker skin was that of his father while his green eyes was hers. He was dressed as she was in leathers and chain, wielding swords and blades everywhere.
Arriving at the city gates and passing to the castle, she let Florian lead the way.