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thequeendomhq · 10 days

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NAME. Agron "The Red Knight" AGE & BIRTH DATE. 113 & June 15th, 2911 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him NATIONALITY. Lysaran SPECIES. Strigoi FACTION. Warrior's Guild OCCUPATION. Queensguard & Blademaster FACE CLAIM. Miguel Gomez

biography

( tw: violence, death )

Northreach had been where Agron had first entered the world. His parents had been mere peasants with names that meant nothing to anybody. They were humble farmers though. They were happy and they wanted their son to be happy. So he was. For a time. Childhood was the last time Agron probably could have ever said he was truly happy. When one had parents that loved him dearly and only ever wanted the best for him, how could he ever think that the best wouldn’t be given to him? So the young boy farmed on those fields, played with his friends, picked apples from trees that looked lush and immaculate. Where he lived may have been a place meant for peasants, but nobody there truly seemed upset with their lot in life. So Agron never thought he should have been either. The friends he made, the people he met, all of them meant something in his life and everyone had always been there for each other within the village he lived in. Everything seemed so perfect.

Then it seemed like things became even more perfect when magic started to flow through Agron’s veins. His parents were ecstatic to send him to the Tower of Olympia to train and to get the best out of what he would soon become with this newfound magic. Everything had just seemed so perfect. He’d stepped foot within the Tower of Olympia as an initiate. They had tested his magic, but Agron realized he had very little of it compared to others that were his age just now going to the tower. He’d still keep a smile on his face as they tested that magic though. Or he would have kept that smile on his face if they hadn’t called him weak. Not good enough. Everything to make him seem like he was lesser than he was had been thrown his way and the rejection stung more than he could have ever anticipated.

When his parents had seen him make his way back to Northreach, it had felt like something changed within the son they once knew. And it was because something had changed within Agron. He had been made to feel so small compared to everyone else he had been surrounded by. Nothing his parents could say or do would fix any of it either. All he could really do was sulk, but he could never pretend he was okay. Not when the smile was gone from his face and replaced with something much more dark. It was a feeling that the young boy had not been familiar with, but he had become much colder. Usually, it took someone almost a year to figure out if they had enough magic, but they had gotten rid of him in a year. It felt like they had barely given him a chance. He had deserved a chance. He had never done anything wrong. He deserved it.

That was all he kept telling himself as he whipped his magic at a tree over and over again. It barely made a dent in anything and that only ever made him angrier. And anger could always be a catalyst to work harder and make something of one’s self. So, instead of magic, he had picked up a wooden stick. When he hit that against the apple tree, it started making a dent so he did it over and over and over again. Every impact that wooden stick made against the apple tree felt like a harsh snap with how the wood splintered. Eventually, he would trade in that wooden stick for something that would make even more of an impact. The cold, hard steel within the palm of his hand felt heavy, like he wasn’t supposed to be wielding it. Yet, every time he picked it up, it felt like that was exactly what he should have been doing all along.

Where magic had felt like it would be his entire life when he first stepped foot within the Tower of Olympia, it had now been replaced with a sword and shield. Every single day, he would head out to those fields and train harder than he had ever trained before. He had to work harder. He had to be better than what the tower had told him he was. Agron would not let himself be weak because he knew, deep down, that he could be so much more than that. It was why he had his eye set upon the Warriors’ Guild. The idea of rejection still weighed heavy on him, but spite weighed even heavier. The tower had rejected him, but he would be damned if the guild did the same. Before he even thought of displaying himself to them, he made sure that he was more than ready.

With steel sharpened and a shield blocking any blow that came his way, he finally made his way to the Warrior’s Guild to become an initiate. Although Agron was self-taught with the blade, he had years and years of practice with only the thought that he had a point to prove. He wanted this more than anyone else could ever imagine. He would not be rejected again. He was better than the Tower of Olympia made him believe and he was so much more than good enough. That thought stayed within his head every time he stepped foot on the training grounds. It stayed in his head every time his sword clashed against another initiate’s. And it stayed there every time one of his mentors saw him get knocked down only to get right back up. Agron had a point to prove and he would be damned if he ever let anyone tell him he was weak ever again.

Magic still flowed through his veins and, although it was a miniscule amount, it was enough to help when he wielded that sword. It was enough for the Warriors’ Guild to find him worthy enough to become a member. Maybe that was the last time he had been happy. It had been a small moment of pride that he had felt at that very moment, but it always felt that it would be replaced by that feeling deep within him. Anger was still there and, just because he was now a member of the guild, didn’t mean he could stop working hard to be better and stronger every day. Agron would always look to be better no matter what was in his way. People within the guild noticed that dedication. His former mentors would see that fire in his eyes, the determination that seemed to seep into his pores. They knew that it wasn’t something as trivial as just training that made Agron who he was. It was will. He willed himself to be better so he would always become better.

He strived for that heron mark on the hilt of his sword. Agron had put blood, sweat and tears into everything he did until he could become a blademaster. Every time he wielded that sword, he did so with a fervor that most others within the Warriors’ Guild could understand. He had worked his way to the top because he felt himself deserving of it. He felt that it was his right to be more because he was more. Skill. Determination. Prestige. Those were all of the qualities of those that could become a blademaster and those were all qualities that Agron himself possessed. He would be well into his thirties by the time they finally placed that heron mark on his sword. Well into his thirties by the time he would be gifted with the title of blademaster. It would be all of Taravell that knew exactly who Agron was when they saw that mark. Nobody could ever tell him he was weak again. Perhaps he shouldn’t have held onto that anger. Or maybe he should have.

Holding onto that anger had led him to one Valerius Noctis. At the time, Agron had not known who the man was when they had first happened upon each other, but he would come to find out sooner rather than later. Moreso, the vampire introduced himself as just that. A vampire, brother to the Queen of vampires. Agron thought himself lucky that someone of such prestige found interest in him, but he also should have expected it. He had learned that vampires preyed on those that were just like him. Warriors. People with purpose. Considering the anger that still bubbled within the witch, the hate that seeped into his pores just as much as determination did, it didn’t take much for him to find wonder in the sweet words that the vampire spoke. He’d had many mentors within the Warriors’ Guild and he’d had his own father, but something about Valerius made him feel like all of the rest of them were insignificant. So, when the vampire offered him the chance to be even more than Agron had already become, he took it.

Strigoi was what he was called. Blood flowed from the vampire's veins into his mouth while his own met Valerius’ lips. He’d been buried for a day at the man’s side and, when he awoke, it was to see Valerius there with him. Putting his faith in a vampire probably was not a good idea, but he trusted the man that had found him and just saw more. Agron knew he was destined for greatness and anyone who told him so had always found a special place within him. Yet he still had that anger always there. It was never at the forefront of his mind, but it was still there buried deep within himself. The now strigoi wished to keep it at bay for as long as he could, maybe even until death. However, Valerius knew exactly what Agron had wanted. That hate that festered within the former witch had turned into an open wound and that was when the vampire struck. Sweet words spoken into his progeny’s ear of marching against the Tower of Olympia. They were words that spoke to the hate that always rested within Agron’s heart and they were words that caused him to follow without asking a single question.

Perhaps he should not have let that hatred fester within him as much as it did though. What had been a charge against Queen Damodred Mordecai had ended far quicker than it had begun. Valerius was captured and, by extension, so was Agron. However, where the vampire was put in chains, the strigoi was placed in front of the Queen herself. She saw the darkness in his heart, but she also saw something else. So she gave him a choice. He could be like Valerius or he could look for redemption. Agron had knelt there for several moments, many thoughts running through his mind as he looked at the Queen. The chance for redemption appealed to him more than anything. As much as he held onto anger, Valerius’ fight was not his own. The vampire had picked apart the pieces of him and made him into someone he was not. That would all change. Agron saw a different path for himself yet again and he took that opportunity that the Queen had given to him. Although he was reluctant at first, he would come to accept his place in the tower.

Queensguard was what Agron would become. He was a member of the Warriors’ Guild, a heron mark on his blade, a warrior with prestige. It seemed fitting that Queen Damodred would want him to be at her side. However, to Agron, it felt like he was always waiting for the chips to fall. The last time he had been within the Tower of Olympia, it had changed the trajectory of his life. And somehow he had ended up back there under different circumstances. He was no longer a witch looking to join the ranks to become a Warrior of Mars or even an Agent of Minerva. No, he was more than that now. He was a strigoi with more strength than he could ever dream of. He was a blademaster and he was the damn Queensguard. Whatever he had once thought of the tower had been washed away by the kindness that Queen Damodred had shown to him when she could have treated him with disdain. And that was why it had hurt so much more when she finally faded. With a hand pressed into her own, knee to the ground, he held onto her as she drew her last breath. In that moment, he had made a promise to himself that he would always protect the crown until he simply couldn’t any longer.

When Arethusa took her mother’s place, he made sure to swear his sword to her as well. The Lysaran throne was Agron’s to protect and he would do so with his entire life. He was their Red Knight and he was the Queensguard. Even if he wasn’t at the Queen’s side, he was working to keep her queendom safe from those that wished to threaten it. So he disappeared from Eterna for some time, fighting battles that required his assistance and living for the crown. It was his choice at the end of the day and, when he came back several years later, the chip on his shoulder felt so much lighter than it had been before. And it was all because that one Queen took a chance on him to give him the redemption he so desperately craved.

personality

+ fearless, reliable, determined – vindictive, selfish, aloof

played by kenyer. est. she/her.

#the redemption #strigoi

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