Prince Raeden Aradhel

A thick blanket of snow covered the ground, making the grey, stone castle seem cold and dense amongst the flurries. Raeden glanced back, his sword at his side and bow slung over his shoulder, a quiver strapped to his back as he maneuvered the impatient mare away from the safety of stone and into the thicker snowy forests. She nickered in protest, and Raeden reached down to soothe her with a hand down her neck.

“That a girl,” He rumbled, “You’ll be back in your haybed before the sun sets, I swear it.” Deeper into the forest they went, down a path he knew well, until they came to a worn hitching post. Typically, Gregor would be at his side, chiming in with quips and poking him to not be quite so stern, but today Raeden needed to be alone with his thoughts. His father had not gotten any worse, his mother had not moved from his father’s side - ever the dutiful wife and queen, but today… Today it was difficult to be the Prince of Aradne, and he did not know why, so into the forests to hunt he went, climbing down from his horse as he placated her with soft murmurings and gentle touches.

Snow crunched quietly under Raeden’s boots as he moved, covering familiar pathways with his bow drawn as his mind wandered to darker places - planning a funeral for a king that was not yet dead, and his chest aching at the thought. It was only a matter of time. There was one fact to face, and it was that he was alone. His parents had always had each other, despite the fact their marriage had never been out of love, but rather, duty. They had found it, anyways, that deep sort of attachment that made them stronger together. His mother relied on that strength now, willing it to keep his father alive, to fight the illness that had ravaged his body and made him a shell of the man he used to be.

Raeden shook his head, growling at his own drifting mind as a bunny raced across his path. A tingle suddenly ran down his spine and he whirled, trading his bow for sword with a fluid ease, the tip landing just beneath CraveU user’s chin. “What do you think you’re doing, little fox? Sneaking up on a soldier?”