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Kierenar sat astride his favourite horse, a hooded hunting hawk on his protected forearm. There were a number of other soldiers around them who had gone hunting but it was with Grendal who the young prince was paying the most attention. Childhood friends, they had grown up together. Kierenar's father knew it was important for his sons to have friends but someone who would not bring them harm or try to manipulate them to either take the throne for themselves or be the puppet-master pulling the strings. Hence Grendal had been introduced to them as not only a friend but a personal protector as well.

Glancing behind them, Kierenar grinned at the larg buck they had brought down. "That was a good shot," he said to Grendal, the one who brought it down.

Kierenar dismounted as well, the hawk's wings fluttering to keep her balance until Kierenar sat her on her saddle perch, fastening the leg ties so she wouldn't fly away. Not that she would, she was well trained and blind with the hood, but it wouldn't help to take precautions incase something spooked her.

Kierenar laughed when Grendal mentioned the noise they made and caught his hand when it ruffled his hair, removing it, holding it a little to long, before letting go. Yes the deer was a good find but it was watching Grendal that Kierenar enjoyed most. He found that he wanted to spend more and more time with the older boy and, while he didn't understand the whole of it, he couldn't deny that it was enjoyable.

Not one to shirk the dirty work, he helped to gut the animal, tossing some of the innards to the hunting dogs and taking a few choice pieces and feeding them to the hawk as well. It made his hands grimy and bloody up to the elbows but he hardly seemed to notice. "Remnar really missed out on something. Then again, he probably doesn't care," he said with a smirk. Remnar had been invited of course, but he chose to stay back and read instead. Such a bookworm.

Kierenar scoffed when Grendal teased him. True, his studies were lacking of late but he found them all so boring! Much to his father's dismay at times, and Remnar's frustration. "He's such a girl. Should probably be sitting up there doing the embroidery or something," he said with some frustration. The two had fought again this morning and some of the things both of them had said still smarted. Remnar gave as much as he got though, calling Kierenar a brainless brute.

"Venison pie for me," he said with his own grin, washing his hands and mounting up again.

"Mmph," was all Kierenar said to Grendal's defending his brother. He was always defending him, and it grated on his nerves at times. Nudging his horse forward, he stared ahead at him, lost in his own thoughts, brooding as he often did. He knew that Grendal would occasionally get beaten when he and Remnar fought, but he never mentioned it or offered him to use any of the palace's healing; Grendal never complained about it, apart from maybe getting angry at them for fighting, so Kierenar chose not to talk about it either. So long as his friend wasn't seriously hurt, which he doubted would ever happen, what went on between him and his father was their business. His own father rarely belted them, not since they were small children anyway and even then it was only an open hand tap on the backside. That wasn't to say that other members of the court had his permission to do so and Kierenar more so than Remnar had felt their arm more than a few times, but his father was a lot like Remnar, more inclined for their anger to sit and brew, becoming more and more quietly nasty as time wore it on. Kierenar, he had been told, took after his mother with her firey temper and preference for physical activity. He wished she was alive now, as he often did. Maybe then he wouldn't feel like the black sheep in the family.

As they drew closer to the royal palace, Kierenar glared at it with a scowl. He didn't want to be here, felt as though he didn't belong here. Last year he had been sent with an ambassador to Nakarnah, the cold northern lands his father had conquered in his youth and now maintained. He felt at home there, strangely enough, the cold snow and icy wind feeling more open and free than the humid warm air here. He had asked his father time and again if he could go back there, even just for a holiday, but he had always refused. He didnt know why, he wasn't told but now more than every he wanted to get away and go there once again.

Kierenar's eyes slid to Grendal when he said his name, but his look was dark. It turned to a smirk of amusement however when Grendal slapped his back, calling tag.

He nudged his horse into a gallop, though it didn't take much since the animal was longing for a run anyway. It was easily a match for Grendal's horse, though both were eaqually matched and they cluttered through the main gates abrest, sending people leaping out of their way.

"Draw," he said simply. He wasn't really trying to beat him today, wasn't really in the mood. Instead, to avoid seeing both his father and Remnar, he unsaddled, handing the reigns to a stableman who came hurrying at the sight of the hunters returning. "I'm going to go practice," he said to Grendal, taking his bow and quiver down and striding towards the archery buts. He was good at the bow, something he was better at than his brother, but he was good at all arms. He could use the longsword as well, though he found such a weapon weak and useless, prefering the huge double handed sword that was as tall as he was. But to spar with that required another person and Kie just wasn't in the mood right then.

Remnar had indeed been sitting on a window couch, using the light of the ceiling-high window to read by. He was blissfully unaware of how the golden rays, especially reflected off the gold of the palace outside, made him look god-like. He was a little taller than his darker brother, but his strength was wirery rather than muscle and he was often underestimated because of his lankiness. Still, as his brother said, he prefered books to hunting and would often spend what spare time he had reading about different cultures and countries as well as his own. He wanted to know everything he could about all people and races so that he could understand them and asociate with them better. The only variation in Grendal's image was the fact he was no surrounded by books, only had one other resting to the side of him, and the one he was currently reading propped ope on his upraised knees.

Now though, he had fallen asleep, his chest raising and falling gently, slowly with each breath, face turned to the window so that, from the door at a glance, it looked more like he was just looking out the window, at his brother training or something. He didn't hear the door open or Grendal come in and didn't stir from that position.

Remnar stirred a little when Grendal first said his name, but his eyes flicked open in alarm when he said he had scribbled in his books. They weren't just any books, they were ancient! Not to be messed with! "Grendal!" he started but as his sleep blured eyes searched the books he found no such markings on them. But of course Grendal wouldn't do such a thing, it was Kierenar who would, but half asleep he had believed what he heard.

"You..." he growled, throwing a cushion at his friend before closing the boo and putting it aside with the other one.

"How did the hunt go? Do we have fresh meat for dinner?" he asked.

"Mmph," Remnar grunted when Grendal brought up his brother. "He brought it on himself. If he wants to go sulk that's his business," he said. They were both as stubborn as each other, one of the few areas the fact they were twins shone through, but it was unlike Kierenar to sulk. Brood maybe but not sulk. Normally it was Remnar who did that, not saying anything until it all just overflowed, Kierenar was more prone to hot flushes.

"If you're just here to talk about him then you may as well go and train with him or something, I don't want anything to do with it," he said.