Fantasy Aedighar [closed]

[scoorpiuuss]

Never had Rowan felt so happy before. Most of his life he had walked around showing no real emotion towards the Royal family until Ashara had found him. As soon as it was made clear that he would be following her as her sworn shield the day she would be married, Rowan had been ecstatic about the news.

Ashara was the type of woman he could see himself spending the rest of his life with. He had broken his vows for her, and he didn’t even seem to care.

They wouldn’t be married, but Rowan was happy enough that they would be together in secret behind everyone’s back. He would cherish Ashara and protect her. It would be his job to keep her safe, and Rowan found himself blinded by the love he felt towards the Princess. If he could, he would have dropped everything for her, prayed to the Gods that he could be a Lord good enough to take her hand in marriage.

Rowan would have loved every single second of being around her, and perhaps that was foolish of him considering that it was only wishful thinking and just as quick as their affair had started it could end. It was difficult not to be positive when Ashara looked so happy about it too though. Rowan didn’t have the heart to share his worries and insecurities with her, frightened to kill that glint she had in her eyes.

Almost every night he found himself walking the hallways of the castle towards her bedchamber. Rowan wanted to spend every single night with her, make her feel loved and cared for. He wished for her to be happy, and he did anything to make her feel good. Ashara was addicting to him, so addicting he often daydreamed about her whenever he was doing his job protecting the King.

It was impossible to not think about her. Rowan had never expected to feel such a way for a woman. Ever since he had been taken into the Kingsguard, he had accepted his fate that protecting the King would be his life. He wouldn’t marry or have children. Now all he could think about was what it would be like to have a family of his own. Being with Ashara felt too good to be true though.

Just as Rowan has feared, everything had been too good to be true.

The Gods must have disagreed with their current plan since as soon as the Hastwycks arrived in Wheldrake, everything got turned upside down. At first, it had started with King Trevas practically locking his daughters in their bedchambers. Rowan figured the King thought it would be better for them to stay out of his business as he dealt with the Hastwycks.

While Ashara was stuck in her room, Rowan had tried his best to accompany her for as long as he could, but as soon as everything had been revealed to him, he knew he had a job to do.

Rowan needed to protect Ashara from the truth that was happening outside the safety of her bedchamber walls. Lying to her had been difficult. Rowan hated it, but he kept telling himself that it was for the better. If Ashara got to see what was truly happening, he was afraid she would lose all the happiness he had worked so hard to make her feel. He didn’t want to rip away that pretty smile on her face, and though she deserved to know the truth, Rowan had kept it away from her.

Instead he had told her that the Hastwycks were visiting for political reasons, which was somewhat accurate, but Ashara had no idea that the Queen, her mother, was standing trial for the murder of Timos Hastwyck. Rowan had a feeling that it would end with an execution, and even if he had no idea what her actual relationship with her mother was, Rowan didn’t want to be the one to tell Ashara that her mother would die soon.

It pained him that he had to pretend that everything was fine.

Nothing was fine though. Accusation upon accusation was pouring out about the Queen. At one point Rowan had felt like nothing truly made sense and that the trial seemed overly focused on framing the Queen. In reality, Rowan didn’t know the Queen as well as he knew the King and Ashara. Those were the two people he had spent the most time with, even if he had sometimes found himself escorting the Queen as well.

Perhaps the Queen was capable of doing such things. Either way, Rowan couldn’t say anything about it. His job was to stay silent and protect the King, which he did.

On the second day of the trial, everything changed. The Queen had demanded a trial by combat, and Rowan would be her champion. Tomorrow he would be fighting against Lady Hastwyck’s champion, which could only end with one of them dead. Rowan’s heart had nearly stopped in his chest then. He thought about Ashara and their plan. How they were supposed to be together until the end of his days, and how all of that could change tomorrow.

Rowan felt like he was about to lose his head. He hadn’t told Ashara anything about the trials, and now he didn’t know if he would ever be able to come back to her. Though he was confident in himself as a Knight, he knew he had a massive responsibility on his shoulders now. The Queen’s life laid in his hands. The life of Ashara’s mother all depended on him, and how he would perform the next day.

Gods and he hadn’t even told Ashara about anything. Rowan was starting to regret his decision to lie to Ashara. He knew he had to tell her about everything now in case it would be the last time they would see each other. It scared him that there was a chance he would die, but only because he didn’t want Ashara to be alone.

In the evening he found himself standing outside her bedchamber door, lifting his hand to gently tap his knuckles against the wood.

Ashara opened the door with such a sweet smile on her face as she said his name, but Rowan couldn’t find it in himself to return the smile to her. He knew what a horrible person he was for lying to her, and he didn’t want to imagine what her reaction would be once the truth was revealed to her.

Rowan entered her room, walking straight over to her bed. It was better if they sat down for this as he knew it would be a lot for Ashara to take in, and he didn’t want her to run away or end up doing something stupid. The bed was the best choice. He sat down at the edge of the mattress, struggling to meet her gaze.

"I have something I need to tell you, Princess Ashara.”

As he sat there wondering just how he would tell her, he heard her footsteps as she came to sit next to him. Her hand against his shoulder felt nice, but not comforting as it usually did. It felt wrong now after he had lied to her, and Rowan wanted to yell at himself for doing so.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Rowan turned his head to look at her then, raising his hand to cup her cheek. His thumb traced along her cheekbone as he let out a deep sigh, “promise me you will not get angry with me. Promise me Ashara that you will not push me away.” His other hand went to her arm as she held her in place.

"Tell me."

“There has been a trial,” Rowan started, still keeping his gaze on hers no matter how much he wanted to look away, “the Hastwycks aren’t here because they want to discuss politics. They have accused the King of the murder of Timos Hastwyck, but…” Quietly Rowan cursed under his breath, pulling completely away from Ashara, “the Queen, your mother is the one standing trial getting accused of the murder. It is bad Ashara. The things they are saying about her. I just wanted to protect you.”

 

[desti]

Everything seemed so wrong. Rowan always had such a beautiful smile around her, and now it was nowhere to be found. Ashara couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him look so serious, so worried. It made her feel uncomfortable and she almost wanted to send him away just so she wouldn’t have to worry about this.

Rowan turned his head and raised his hand to her face, cupping her cheek. Ashara tried to focus on the feeling of his thumb stroking her cheekbone, but all she could think about was how this wasn’t right. Nothing about this felt right. Ashara felt as though something horrible would happen soon and she hated that feeling.

“Promise me you will not get angry with me. Promise me Ashara that you will not push me away.”

As he said that, his other hand went to hold her arm. Ashara watched him and frowned a little, because she didn’t understand any of this. What would make Rowan so worried? Had father changed his mind about him leaving with Ashara? No, certainly he’d go to Ashara first about this issue. Judging by Rowan’s words, he had done something bad. What?

Ashara knew herself well enough to not want to promise Rowan that she wouldn’t be angry. Her emotions were hard to control after all. Though Ashara didn’t want to be angry with him, nor push him away, she couldn’t control herself sometimes.

Instead of promising anything, Ashara just watched him closely, "tell me."

“There has been a trial. The Hastwycks aren’t here because they want to discuss politics. They have accused the King of the murder of Timos Hastwyck, but…”

Murder? They believed Timos Hastwyck had been murdered? That was ridiculous, of course that couldn’t be the case. Of course not… and somehow Rowan had thought it’d be better for Ashara not to know all of this? Gods, if he thought that Ashara would be able to stay calm throughout this then he truly did not know her one bit.

Rowan cursed and pulled away from her before continuing, “the Queen, your mother is the one standing trial getting accused of the murder. It is bad Ashara. The things they are saying about her. I just wanted to protect you.”

Ashara had to take a second to understand what exactly Rowan was telling her. He had said that they’d accused father, but Rowan also claimed that it was her mother standing trial. Ashara wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Judging by what he was saying and the tone in his voice, the trial wasn’t looking good for them.

Was there a chance that mother had truly done it? Ashara didn’t quite believe it, because she didn’t think mother was cunning enough to think of such a plan. Why would she even want to murder Timos anyways? Mother loved Elaria so much, Ashara couldn’t imagine that she’d hurt her daughter so.

Whatever was the truth, Ashara didn’t like it. The truth didn’t matter anyways, because if things were as Rowan said then her mother was standing trial. Whether or not she had actually committed the crime wasn’t something Ashara had to decide. Rowan said things weren’t looking good, and Ashara understood what that meant.

It almost didn’t sadden her that mother would soon be taken away from her. Of course, Ashara loved her mother as any child would, but at the same time they’ve never been that close anyways. She would be upset at her death and grieve it, but eventually she’d move on. What upset her more was that Rowan had lied to her for so long.

Ashara had a right to know what was going on. Father had declined that right of hers and so had Rowan. That hurt her terribly and she wanted to scream at Rowan for being such an idiot. It didn’t make sense to Ashara as to why Rowan thought that lying to her about this was a good idea.

“Protect me? You’re an idiot, Rowan,” Ashara groaned as she stood up from the bed and took a few steps away from Rowan while her hands went into her hair, “what did you think would happen? This lie wouldn’t have held up for long, you realise that, right?”

"Ashara, please. I didn't think it would come to this, alright? I didn't know how to tell you."

A frustrated laugh left Ashara as she turned to look at him, still sitting there on her bed. Gods it made her blood boil and she wanted to break something. Slap him, punch him, yell at him to make herself feel better.

“You didn’t know how to tell me? I’m not a child, Rowan,” Ashara frowned, “did you think once this was all over, I would just blissfully live on and never know what happened during these days?”

"I would tell you, but clearly you're not capable of hearing it. Look at you. The way you are reacting right now is exactly why I didn't tell you,” Rowan said as he stood up from the bed.

It almost offended Ashara to hear this from Rowan. He had no right to decide that. Maybe Ashara should’ve appreciated that Rowan was trying to protect her, but she really didn’t. All she could think about was how he had lied to her face.

“I’m not capable of hearing it,” Ashara scoffed and shook her head, “I’m so sorry, Rowan, for burdening you with my emotions. It’s just that hearing that my mother is on trial for murder and knowing that the one person I trust has lied to me is a little bit upsetting.”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

“Protect me? You’re an idiot, Rowan. What did you think would happen? This lie wouldn’t have held up for long, you realise that, right?”

If those words had come from anyone else, Rowan would have barked at them, but in front of him stood the woman he cared so much for. He didn’t want to get angry with her even if he could feel his blood boiling inside of him. As she called him and idiot he clenched his jaw, holding back everything he wanted to say. He had already upset her, and Rowan knew he would just make her more angry with him if he were to call her something back.

Rowan could be unlucky, and it could have been his last few hours with Ashara. The last thing he wanted was to fight with her. He realized he had been stupid for lying to her, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. It had already been done, and all he had wanted was to protect her.

Perhaps that was foolish of him, but it was his job. The King had ordered his daughters to stay in their rooms, as his guard, Rowan had no choice but to make sure they stayed there and knew nothing. Gods, if King Trevas even knew what he was doing every night, Rowan was sure his head would have been cut off without hesitation.

Still he found himself sitting there feeling more hopeless than ever not knowing what was waiting for him tomorrow and having Ashara be angry at him. She had every right to, but he just wanted to tell her everything straight away. Tell her how he would be fighting for his life in the morning, but now didn’t seem like a good time considering the way she acted towards him.

"Ashara, please. I didn't think it would come to this, alright? I didn't know how to tell you."

“You didn’t know how to tell me? I’m not a child, Rowan. Did you think once this was all over, I would just blissfully live on and never know what happened during these days?”

Rowan struggled not to snap at her then. Ever nerve in his body was aching for him to do something, but he didn’t want to. No, he didn’t want to yell at her or scream at her. That was not how he wanted to be remembered if this was his last day with her. He wanted to hold her, kiss her all over and whisper sweet nothings in her ear as they laid on her bed. Rowan only wanted the best for her.

Either way, Rowan stood up from the bed, snapping at Ashara, "I would tell you, but clearly you're not capable of hearing it. Look at you. The way you are reacting right now is exactly why I didn't tell you.”

“I’m not capable of hearing it,” Ashara scoffed and shook her head, “I’m so sorry, Rowan, for burdening you with my emotions. It’s just that hearing that my mother is on trial for murder and knowing that the one person I trust has lied to me is a little bit upsetting.”

“You have no idea Ashara how much I care about you. Call me all you whatever you want, but I thought I was doing you a favor. Do you think it is easy for me? There is no right way of how I should tell you that your mother is most likely going to get executed in a few days.”

It seemed as Rowan was just as frustrated as she was as he took a step closer to her. His forehead wrinkled as he furrowed his eyebrows. He knew Ashara was an emotional person, especially when it came to anger. They had fought before, but then it hadn’t been nearly as bad as it was now.

"Doing me a favour? You should've told me everything from the start, I'm sure that would've made telling me the news a whole lot easier."

“What would you have done if you found out sooner, Ashara?”

The words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat. He could tell her he would be dead tomorrow, or he could tell her that her mother’s life depended on him and how huge that pressure was. It didn’t seem like that would change anything for Ashara. Perhaps she didn’t care for him as much as he did for her. Rowan felt helpless, and he knew the only thing he could do was try his best in the morning.

Rowan had no clue what to expect from the fight.

"This same thing probably, except I'd be angry with the Hastwycks, not you."

There was a scoff from his lips then as he looked away. Even if he did deserve whatever it was that Ashara was feeling, he found it foolish of her how she didn’t think of the consequences of that.

“Why do you think your father has ordered you to stay in your room? Because he doesn’t want you to know. Do you know how much trouble you would be in if you were seen being angry with the Hastwycks? You have to see that I was only trying to help you.”

"Just because you'd tell me doesn't mean I'd go outside, find Lady Hastwyck and call her a bitch. I know that's not how this works, Rowan, I'm not that stupid. God, Rowan..."

“Clearly you don’t realize how stupid you are right now, Ashara. You have no idea what is going to happen,” Rowan scoffed as he took another step closer to her. He hadn’t wanted to snap at her, but all the pressure, the fighting and the anger was boiling up inside him. There was no way he would be able to keep the truth from her now, no matter how much it would or wouldn’t hurt her.

"Talk to me like that again and you will regret it."

“Do it. Make me regret it.”

 

[desti]

“You have no idea Ashara how much I care about you. Call me all you whatever you want, but I thought I was doing you a favor. Do you think it is easy for me? There is no right way of how I should tell you that your mother is most likely going to get executed in a few days.”

Gods this was making her frustrated to no end. Ashara tried to understand why in the seven hells Rowan would ever think that this was a good idea, but she just couldn’t get it. She would’ve much preferred to hear the truth from the very start, no matter how much it would’ve pained her to hear it. That would’ve been a lot more preferrable than what was happening now.

"Doing me a favour? You should've told me everything from the start, I'm sure that would've made telling me the news a whole lot easier."

“What would you have done if you found out sooner, Ashara?”

"This same thing probably, except I'd be angry with the Hastwycks, not you."

“Why do you think your father has ordered you to stay in your room? Because he doesn’t want you to know. Do you know how much trouble you would be in if you were seen being angry with the Hastwycks? You have to see that I was only trying to help you.”

"Just because you'd tell me doesn't mean I'd go outside, find Lady Hastwyck and call her a bitch. I know that's not how this works, Rowan, I'm not that stupid. Gods, Rowan..."

It was almost ridiculous that Rowan would think such a thing. Yes, Ashara was emotional and sometimes a bit overly so, but she wouldn’t do something that stupid. She knew that would end up with her father’s anger, and that wasn’t what she wanted at all. Ashara figured that it would’ve ended up with a fight between her and Rowan then, as well, because she’d need to take out the anger on someone and Rowan was always there to take the blow.

After their fights, Ashara would always feel bad. She couldn’t really control herself when the anger started to pour out of her. It was almost like it was uncontrollable and had a mind of its own. Ashara would always try to apologise in one way or another, try to show to Rowan that she hadn’t meant it. Now she was almost frightened about what words might leave her lips.

“Clearly you don’t realize how stupid you are right now, Ashara. You have no idea what is going to happen.”

Now that went too far for Ashara’s liking. She much preferred him to keep his mouth shut during their fights, and just let her ramble on. It hurt her to hear such things coming from Rowan. He was so sweet and kind to her usually, this was such a contrast that Ashara was terribly taken aback.

"Talk to me like that again and you will regret it."

Ashara didn’t plan on doing anything to Rowan that would actually harm him. She could never bring herself to do that, but it felt fitting to say something like that to him. After the words he’d said, Ashara wanted to hurt him, tell him things she didn’t really think. Yet as her gaze lingered on Rowan’s, she couldn’t get the poisonous words to leave her lips.

“Do it. Make me regret it.”

With a frustrated groan, Ashara turned around and walked away from him, rubbing her hands against her face in a foolish effort to clear her thoughts. Gods, he was unbelievable. Ashara didn’t like him like this. She liked Rowan the way he truly was - sweet and affectionate, this wasn’t what she wanted at all. It must’ve been her words that made him so, but Ashara didn’t want to blame herself for this.

Part of her expected Rowan to come up to her, touch her shoulder and apologise. He didn’t. That just made Ashara more upset and she turned around on her heels again, seeing him just standing there like a fool.

“Gods, Rowan, you could at least apologise.”

"My apologies. I didn't mean to be so inconsiderate,” Rowan didn’t sound genuine at all, and it just spurred her on more. It was like Ashara was getting some joy out of being rude to him, which she didn’t like at all.

“And now say that again, but this time say it like you actually mean it.”

"Ashara, I have more important things to think about. If you want to be mad at me for trying to protect you, then I won't stop you, but perhaps you will regret that tomorrow."

That sounded like another lie ready to be told now. Ashara closed the distance between them again and clenched her jaw as she tried not to snap at him. It would’ve been easy to do that, but Ashara was trying to hold herself back. Either way, Ashara would never be able to stay mad at Rowan for long. She cared too much about him to do that. Of course tomorrow she’d regret speaking like this to him, but right now Ashara couldn’t help herself.

“Oh? And why would I do that?”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

After Rowan had told Ashara to make him regret, none of them said anything. She had walked away from him, and his gaze followed her carefully as she looked to be very frustrated with him. In that second all he wanted to do was to walk over to her and make sure she was doing okay, but how could he when he couldn’t even take care of himself. His mind filled with irrational thoughts, and it felt like he was slowly going mad.

It felt more stressful than anything he had ever participated in. In one second he wondered if Ashara would genuinely care if he expressed his concern about dying, while a second later he would be wondering just how hurt she would feel. Rowan had no idea where he had Ashara now after lying to her, and he felt terrible for it.

Rowan had said some stupid stuff to Ashara. It was like he couldn’t hold anything back anymore. Usually, he would keep his mouth shut and stay positive, but that felt impossible as he stood there watching her be angry with him. His feelings were overwhelming, but most of all it was the immense stress that caused him to feel as if he was losing his head.

“Gods, Rowan, you could at least apologise.”

Those words brought him out of his mind. Ashara was now facing him again, and Rowan didn’t want to believe how selfish she was acting, though he hadn’t told her yet. Ashara had no idea because he hadn’t been able to tell her what had happened during the second day of the trial.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to be so inconsiderate.”

“And now say that again, but this time say it like you actually mean it.”

It had been obvious that Rowan hadn’t sounded very genuine as he apologized to Ashara, but gods, his head was such a mess he didn’t know what to say or do with himself. He stood there running his fingers through his hair, glancing at her before he glanced at the door, only to find her gaze again.

Rowan felt like he needed to run around in the castle hallways to be able to get that devastating feeling away from him.

"Ashara, I have more important things to think about. If you want to be mad at me for trying to protect you, then I won't stop you, but perhaps you will regret that tomorrow."

“Oh? And why would I do that?”

It was like everything around him blackened then at her words, how harsh they were and how selfish she sounded. Rowan couldn’t help but scoff at how she was now the one being inconsiderate out of the two, even if he had been the one lying to her. This wasn’t what he wanted at all, and he felt the need to leave Ashara alone, but he couldn’t find it in him to actually move towards the door.

“You are oblivious,” Rowan sighed.

Perhaps he was asking too much of her. How was Ashara supposed to understand his situation when he hadn’t told her a single thing, but the truth still was that he had no idea how to. All the outcomes he thought of in his head ended badly, and Rowan just wished for a happy ending with Ashara in his arms.

"Well it's not like you've been keeping me up to date with what's going on."

“I wanted to!” Rowan nearly yelled at her. Out of nowhere and before he had been able to stop her those words had already left his lips in such a harsh way that he wanted to take it back right away.

Nothing of what was happening was like him. Rowan couldn’t even recognize himself which frightened him. If it had been any other day, he would have never spoken to Ashara that way. She didn’t deserve that, and he had worked so hard to keep her happy, but now he had ruined it. There was no one else to blame, but him. If he would lose the fight tomorrow, everyone could blame him for the Queen’s execution.

Gods, Rowan wished that the Queen had chosen someone else than him.

"Obviously you didn't."

“Ashara…”

"What?"

One way or another he would have to tell her. He wanted to reach for her hand, to feel her fingers lace with his. He felt the need for something to squeeze onto, but he was afraid Ashara would only try to get away if he was to attempt to hold her hand. Instead of trying he kept his hands tucked behind his back while his gaze fell to his own feet.

Why was it so difficult to tell her?

“The Queen,” Rowan started, shaking his head a little as a nervous laugh fell from his lips, “your mother has demanded a trial by combat, and I am her champion."

 

[desti]

“You are oblivious.”

Nothing made sense to Ashara at this point. It felt like Rowan was somehow angry at her for not knowing anything about the situation. That was his fault, though, and Ashara didn't deserve the treatment he was giving her right now.

With every word that left Rowan, though, Ashara almost found herself more confused than angry. He had never been so upset before, it was strange and she didn't like it. Was it just because he felt bad for lying to her? Or was it something else? Either way, Ashara didn't like Rowan like this. He didn't frighten her, but Ashara felt a little nervous being alone in the room with him, even though she was confident that Rowan wouldn't hurt her.

"Well it's not like you've been keeping me up to date with what's going on."

Even though her mind was rushing with thoughts, Ashara still remained stubborn. If they were going to fight, she didn't intend to back down. At least not yet. It was stupid really and Ashara felt the guilt creep up on her. She knew she couldn't continue to do this for too much longer.

“I wanted to!”

Ashara flinched for a second, hearing Rowan yell at her. She didn't think that had ever happened before. Overall Rowan was rather quiet, and the loudest noises he had made around her were the groans he let out during the night. Yelling was different and Ashara wasn't sure what had come over Rowan. He was so strange as he stood in front of her...

"Obviously you didn't,” Ashara said quietly as her eyes moved down to the floor.

“Ashara…”

"What?"

Would he yell at her again? Call her stupid again? Ashara almost didn't want to hear what Rowan had to say. Now that he was fighting back, Ashara wanted to just end this conversation. It wasn't fun, it didn't relieve her from stress or anger. If anything it just made it worse and made her upset as well.

A silence set between them and Ashara raised her gaze back to Rowan. His eyes were cast down and it looked to Ashara as though there were so many emotions present for Rowan then. He looked worried and uncomfortable, and Ashara wanted to step forwards and take his hand. When she remembered what he had said, though, Ashara found it easy to just stand there and watch him.

“The Queen,” Rowan started and then laughed nervously before continuing, “your mother has demanded a trial by combat, and I am her champion."

That made Ashara tilt her head slightly as she tried to understand what he had just said. A trial by combat? And out of the seven Kingsguard men, mother had chosen Rowan? No, that couldn't be true. Ashara clenched her jaw and watched Rowan closely, as though he'd smile and tell her that it was all a joke and that everything was fine. Rowan didn't do that. Ashara almost wanted to yell at him again, curse at him for not telling her this straight away.

Gods, this couldn't be true…

Ashara knew well that Rowan was a skilled man when it came to fighting. There was a reason he was one of the youngest men to join the Kingsguard. Ashara was confident that he could kill any man he'd want to. At the same time, fighting was always a game of luck. Rowan could slip and…

No, Rowan would win of course. Whoever the other man was, Ashara was sure that her love would be the one to be victorious. The other option was too horrible to even imagine. Somehow, the thought of her mother didn't even cross Ashara's mind. Her whole focus was on Rowan and his safety.

They were going to be together. That's all that would happen after this day. Ashara would marry and Rowan would follow her to the edge of the world if he'd have to. She tried to think about that, but thoughts of horrible what ifs crossed her mind. No, that couldn't happen. The Gods were not that cruel, right?

Ashara felt his fingertips graze her hand and even that didn't make her feel better. Everything was wrong, this wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't how her plan was supposed to go. Rowan was supposed to be safe with her, not partaking in a trial by combat. It was as though that washed away her anger immediately. Ashara felt so much worry and sadness that she just had to grip onto Rowan's hand for strength.

Though her eyes were still on him, Ashara couldn't find the words to say to him. What should she say? Perhaps she should tell him how worried she was or how she knew that he'd win. Still, Ashara was speechless as she stood there, gripping onto his hand so tight she though she might break it. If Ashara was so sure that Rowan would win, why was she so worried?

“Ashara…”

She only heard him say her name when she saw his lips moving. Ashara swallowed thickly and pulled her hand away from him, moving away to sit down on her bed again. Her head felt dizzy and she needed to sit down, otherwise she was afraid that she might fall. It felt like a bad dream, and Ashara wanted to wake up so that it’d end. Though she was afraid that the worst was yet to come.

It felt like everything could slip through her fingers soon. There was a chance that Rowan wouldn’t survive, and the thought alone made her heart ache. Rowan was so strong, so skillful, a true knight. Of course he couldn’t die. He made her so happy. It was stupid, and still Ashara found panic rise inside of her as she thought of what would or could happen the next day.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

After the words had slipped out of his mouth, silence washed over them as they stood there. Rowan wondered what Ashara felt about it. He was studying her face, looking for any changes in her expression as he hoped she would say something soon. This wasn’t what he had wanted for himself. If he could choose he wouldn’t have been chosen as the Queen’s champion. It wasn’t his choice though.

Rowan couldn’t do anything about it, and he knew he would have to try his best in order to get safely back to Ashara. He was supposed to spend the rest of his life with her. One day he would be her sworn shield, and it was all Rowan had ever wished for.

The day the King had agreed to it, and Ashara had come to him with the news never seemed to leave his thoughts. That day had been perfect in his eyes. That was the sort of days he wanted to with Ashara. Rowan wanted it for them now just in case it would be the last time they would see each other. It was upsetting to think about. He didn’t want to leave Ashara. It was too soon for that.

They had so much yet to discover, and Rowan wanted to explore everything with her. Whatever they had wasn’t supposed to end in the morning. He needed more time with her.

Rowan realized how stupid it had been of him to fight with her. He was regretting every word that he had told her. How he had called her stupid. Ashara wasn’t stupid, and Rowan hoped she wouldn’t feel that way just because he had been inconsiderate of her situation. He also hoped she wasn’t too upset about him having to fight in a trial by combat in the morning.

By the way Ashara had tilted her head and clenched her jaw, Rowan figured she wasn’t exactly happy about the news. She still didn’t say a word to him, and he felt how uncomfortable the silence was starting to get for him. He needed to know how she felt.

When he reached for her hand, Rowan was hesitant as he was afraid she still felt angry with him. Perhaps she would slap him across the cheek, or pull her hand away, but he still tried as he suddenly felt that need to comfort the one person who he cared so much about. All he needed now was to know what her thoughts were. She didn’t deserve to be worried about the morning, and he would reassure her all night that there was nothing to be concerned about.

In his mind, he kept telling himself that he was a Kingsguard. He wore that white cloak for a reason, and he the Queen had chosen him most likely since she believed he was her best shot. Rowan had nothing to worry about, and still, he did just because of her.

It pained him to imagine her worrying, and as she squeezed onto his hand, he suddenly felt her sadness. Straight away he wanted to hold her. Rowan wanted to pull her to him and wrap his arms around her until she felt better, but he imagined nothing he would do could make it better. If anything it would only make things worse in his mind. He was starting to think it had been incredibly selfish of him to kiss her that day.

Rowan should have been the better man and controlled his temptations. Then he wouldn’t have dragged Ashara down into this, and she wouldn’t have to mourn if he were to have his life taken away from him. He couldn’t seem to make himself regret it though. No matter how hard he tried to regret the things he had done with Ashara, he couldn’t. Those moments of his life had made him so happy that the risk had been worth it.

Even if he were to die, he would think about all those happy memories he had with the woman in front of him.

“Ashara…”

As he said her name, Ashara moved away from him. Rowan watched as she walked over to sit on her bed and she still hadn’t said a word to him. For a second he felt helpless standing there just watching her. It looked like she was getting lost in her thoughts, and Rowan carefully walked over to her. Though he wanted to apologize for the words he had said earlier, he couldn’t find it in him to focus on that now.

Rowan sank down to his knees by the edge of the bed, right by Ashara’s legs. His hands grasped onto hers, holding them tightly as he looked up at her. It was like he was too afraid to get onto the bed with her. He didn’t want to startle her or frighten her in any other way.

“Talk to me.”

"I don't want to lose you,” Ashara said quietly.

“You won’t lose me Ashara. I’m not going anywhere. I will fight for you and for myself.”

It looked like Ashara was about to cry, and the sight of her so upset pained him more than he had thought it would. He could feel his heart ache knowing how upset she felt now, and Rowan felt the need to do something for her just to see her smile or be hopeful about tomorrow. She closed her eyes then and raised their hands so she could press her lips against his hands, and Rowan let out a slight sigh at the sensation.

“I am so sorry Ashara that I didn’t tell you sooner. I am sorry that this is happening, but I promise you that you won’t lose me. You have to believe me.”

Rowan pulled one of his hands out of her grip, placing it against her cheek instead so he could stroke his thumb over it. Even when she looked so upset, she was beautiful and to think that in a way she was his made him just as happy as it made him sad. He would do anything for her. Anything to make her feel better. She was all that mattered to him, and in reality that made him weak.

"Please. I don't know what I'd do without you."

“You mean everything to me Ashara. I don’t want to lose this whatever it is that we have together. I am going to be there for you every day. This won’t change anything. I’ll still follow you as your sworn shield when that day comes,” Rowan said as he stood up from the floor, sitting down on the edge of the bed with her instead.

Gently he wrapped his armed around Ashara to pull her closer to him and into his arms. His hand moved along her back in an attempt to soothe her. He knew he was making promises he couldn’t keep, and he knew it was bad of him to do so, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her the harsh truth about how he could die, and that would be it.

 

[desti]

Rowan sank down to his knees in front of her and Ashara watched as his hands grasped onto hers. Ashara felt so lost as she sat there, her mind racing with thoughts and possibilities. It was frightening and horrible to think about what would happen if Rowan would perish. She didn’t want to live without him, but what if she’d have to? Ashara didn’t think she could ever be happy without Rowan’s smile in her life.

“Talk to me.”

"I don't want to lose you,” Ashara said quietly once she finally managed to get words past her lips.

Ashara would pray to the Gods that night and the next morning to keep Rowan safe from harm. Perhaps this was a punishment for their sins, and therefore well deserved, but Ashara didn’t want to accept it. She didn’t want to lose Rowan. Not now, not ever. She’d even gotten over her fear and went to father to ask him to make Rowan her sworn shield. How could she lose him after that? It wouldn’t be fair.

“You won’t lose me Ashara. I’m not going anywhere. I will fight for you and for myself.”

Tears prickled at her eyes and Ashara stared stubbornly at their hands. She didn’t want to cry in front of Rowan again. It wasn’t what Princesses should do, and Ashara didn’t want to look so weak in front of him. Especially now, knowing that these might be their last hours together. That thought was so unbearable that the tears threatened to break free, and Ashara closed her eyes to contain herself.

Raising their hands to her face, Ashara pressed her lips against his hands. Everything that they had said before was erased from her mind. That didn’t matter anymore. What mattered now was the future, and Ashara was so very afraid of it. Everything could fall from her hands then, and she’d lose the one person that she cared so much about. Gods, Ashara really should’ve thought about her mother as well, but all she could think about was Rowan.

“I am so sorry Ashara that I didn’t tell you sooner. I am sorry that this is happening, but I promise you that you won’t lose me. You have to believe me.”

But Ashara didn’t. This wasn’t a promise that Rowan was capable of making, and the chance of him breaking it was too big for Ashara to even take his words seriously. It was silly to promise such things. Anything could happen tomorrow. One mistake from Rowan and he could be rewarded with a sword driven through his neck. She shuddered at the thought.

One of Rowan’s hands slipped out of her grip and moved to rest against her cheek. She leant her head slightly against it, trying to seek comfort out of it. If everything was going to end tomorrow, Ashara wanted to savour the feeling of his touch. She wanted to remember everything, but she feared time would take that away from her. The day Ashara would forget how Rowan’s smile looked like, she’d lose everything she once had.

"Please. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Her words sounded so pathetic, her voice seemed so weak and fragile. Ashara was almost ashamed of herself and that Rowan had to see her like this. She didn’t want him to remember her like this, if the worst would happen. If Rowan would die, Ashara wanted him to remember her with a smile and a laugh, and remember her touches and how she made him feel. She didn’t want him to think of her as the sad girl she was right now.

“You mean everything to me Ashara. I don’t want to lose this whatever it is that we have together. I am going to be there for you every day. This won’t change anything. I’ll still follow you as your sworn shield when that day comes.”

As much as Ashara tried to hold back her tears, they broke loose when Rowan sat down next to her and pulled her against his chest. She whimpered quietly and moved to straddle his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face against his shoulder. This was pathetic, and it made her feel awkward and all of Ashara wanted to stop, but she couldn’t find it in her. All she could think about was losing Rowan, and the thought was so unbearable.

Whatever they were, Ashara wasn’t sure of it. She hadn’t been sure if she loved Rowan or not, and Ashara found herself wondering that some nights, almost embarrassingly often. Her feelings were conflicting, and Ashara wasn’t sure what these kinds of emotions should feel like. Still, Ashara felt as though if she didn’t love Rowan then she wouldn’t be acting like this now. It seemed painfully obvious to her now, and Ashara pressed against Rowan as close as possible.

It would be so unfair for Rowan to be taken away from her. Ashara knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter how difficult it’d be at times. She wanted him, needed him, and yet he could be taken away from her tomorrow and there’d be nothing she could do about it. The thought was so cruel. Ashara wanted to think positively, and think about Rowan beating his opponent and them being fine, but she couldn’t get herself to do that.

Ashara felt his hands stroke her back and her hair, and it soothed her somewhat. Still, the thoughts were rushing through her mind and Ashara thought she never wanted to let Rowan go now. How could she, knowing that Rowan might just get up and leave her forever? She didn’t really listen to the words he whispered into her ear, because they were so generic and meaningless that there was no point.

This all explained why Rowan had been so strange. He must’ve been so worried, and now Ashara probably wasn’t helping him at all by sobbing into his shoulder. She didn’t want to make him even more upset, but Ashara couldn’t help herself. Rowan was her everything, and the thought of losing him made her whole body ache.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

There was nothing pleasant about seeing Ashara so broken in front of him. Rowan had always felt like he did a good job of comforting her, but it seemed to be different now. The crying didn’t seem to stop even if he was stroking his hand over her back or whispering how it would be okay into her ear as he held her close. She was still whimpering and sobbing, and it pained him to hear her so upset.

In his eyes, she had done nothing wrong to deserve that kind of pain, and he felt so helpless knowing that comforting her would be a difficult task for him to do. Still, Rowan tried his best as he pressed his lips against her head while he traced his fingers along her spine.

Even if Rowan was afraid of losing Ashara, he tried to keep himself somewhat under control since he didn’t want Ashara to see how worried he actually was for tomorrow. If anything he imagined it would only cause her to be more upset, and he figured that wasn’t what Ashara needed. It would feel good to let his true emotions out to her, but he kept them tucked away for now.

Rowan also knew there was no time to worry. If he wanted a chance at winning he would have to prepare himself for it mentally. Letting his mind overcome with worry and stress would not do him any good. He had to be strong, and then he would have a better chance of surviving. That was what he kept telling himself as he slowly laid down on the bed with Ashara’s chest still pressed against his.

“Talk to me,” Rowan repeated his words from earlier. The silence was uncomfortable even if he understood how difficult it must have been for Ashara to talk considering how upset she seemed.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say. That I hope you win? That I'm scared?"

“If you don’t want to talk that is fine too.”

Ashara had said she didn’t know what to talk about, and Rowan understood that. Even if the silence was a bit uncomfortable because it made his mind boil over with thoughts that he would rather ignore. Whatever it was that Ashara needed, he would do that for her. It was almost ridiculous how badly Rowan wanted to please her by being willing to push away his own emotions for her.

One thing he knew he would do for himself and for Ashara though was to try to spend the night with her, not leaving her side until he had to. Though if Ashara wanted him to leave, Rowan would leave her to be alone no matter how much he wanted to be with her.

At that moment as they laid there, nothing was really Rowan’s choice anymore, and the truth was it hadn’t been that way in a long time.

All his life there had always been someone making choices for him. Rowan didn’t want to fight, and still, he had to. There were times he didn’t want to serve the King, and still, he had no choice but to do it. With Ashara it was different in a way where Rowan wanted to be with her, but again she was the one who chose if he was allowed to stay or not.

"I want to talk with you."

“I want to talk too. I want you to feel better,” Rowan said even though there was likely nothing that could make Ashara feel better.

"I'll only feel better when you come back to me tomorrow."

“I will come back to you tomorrow. I don’t want to be taken away from you, and I won’t let that happen, Ashara.”

"And what if it does happen?" Ashara asked, and Rowan watched as she raised her head from his shoulder.

What if it did? Rowan had tried so hard not to think about it. He was almost obsessed with pushing those thoughts so far away from his mind that he wouldn’t worry, but he was starting to understand that maybe Ashara needed to hear the harsh truth from him.

“If I don’t come back you need to stay strong. Promise me you won’t stay in your room every day and let yourself fall apart.”

"Why not? You're the only thing that makes me happy."

If it had been the other way around, Rowan knew that he would have been deeply upset about losing Ashara in such a horrible way. He would have lost himself without her, and still, he was telling her not to do that. If he wasn’t there to take care of her, then Ashara had to be strong and take care of herself. Rowan knew how difficult that would be, but there was nothing he could do about it if he died.

Rowan brought his hand up to her face as he moved them closer to the middle of the bed to lay more comfortably. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek as he stroked his hand back into her hair.

“Because it won’t be good for you. I don’t want to imagine what that would be like for you. Please, promise me that you will take care of yourself Ashara.”

 

[desti]

Ashara let Rowan lay back on her bed and she tried to find comfort in his arms. Gods, what if he would never hold her again? Ashara would miss his hands, his arms, how it felt to press against him. She didn’t want to be so pessimistic, but Ashara couldn’t help it. It would be better that way, anyways. In case he’d win tomorrow, then Ashara would just be ecstatic. If she’d get too confident now and Rowan wouldn’t return… that would be no good.

“Talk to me.”

The silence between them was uncomfortable, so Ashara understood why he wished to break it. She wanted to talk to him too, she wanted to hear him and memorise his voice, hear his laugh one more time, hear her name fall from his lips once more. Little things she took for granted before suddenly became so important for Ashara.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say. That I hope you win? That I'm scared?"

That seemed to obvious and unnecessary that Ashara didn’t want to say such things. She wanted to forget all about this and talk about something simple, something nice, but at the same time that felt like a bad decision. Perhaps they should talk about it, perhaps that would make things easier for Rowan as well. Maybe it’d calm him, and make him ready for the fight ahead of him.

“If you don’t want to talk that is fine too.”

"I want to talk with you."

“I want to talk too. I want you to feel better.”

Ashara wouldn’t feel better. Not until Rowan would come back tomorrow evening and be safe in her arms, that’s when she’d feel right again. Only then would Ashara feel like she can breathe again. She doubted that she’d be able to fall asleep tonight, the worry would keep her up. Ashara hoped Rowan would stay the night, so she could at least enjoy being in his arms.

"I'll only feel better when you come back to me tomorrow."

“I will come back to you tomorrow. I don’t want to be taken away from you, and I won’t let that happen, Ashara.”

"And what if it does happen?"

With that, Ashara raised her head from his shoulder. Her face must’ve been stained with tears, but she didn’t care how pathetic she must look like with her eyes red and wet. She didn’t think Rowan would judge her, but perhaps it’d make him feel bad and that wasn’t what she wanted.

“If I don’t come back you need to stay strong. Promise me you won’t stay in your room every day and let yourself fall apart.”

Ashara knew that in reality she’d do just that. Rowan was the only thing holding her together, he made her forget about her worries and how nothing in her life really made that much sense. He made her forget about her family and forget about her future. Ashara didn’t want to fall apart, but she was afraid that that would be inevitable.

What did she have without Rowan? Who even was she without him? Rowan had brought out a side to Ashara that she didn’t know she had. He made her a better person, a better daughter to her parents and a more tolerable sister to Elaria. Ashara didn’t want to think about it, but she feared that without him she’d become a person she didn’t want to be.

"Why not? You're the only thing that makes me happy."

Rowan touched her face again and pressed his lips against her cheek. His fingers moved into her hair and Ashara sighed at the feeling.

“Because it won’t be good for you. I don’t want to imagine what that would be like for you. Please, promise me that you will take care of yourself Ashara.”

Instead of promising anything, Ashara leant forwards and pressed their lips together softly. Her hand came up and she gently stroked his face with her fingertips as she tried to remember this, and how his lips felt against hers. It was such a pleasant feeling that Ashara thought it’d be impossible to forget. If she could kiss him for the rest of her life, she’d gladly do so.

A moment passed and Ashara pulled away, tracing her fingers along his jaw. He really was a handsome man, and she was so lucky to have him, even if their time together was coming to an end. Rowan was hers, and Ashara was his. Even if Rowan would be taken away from her soon, Ashara would love him until the end of her days. The thought both calmed her and frightened her to no end. She wanted to tell him that, she wanted him to know, but Ashara wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

Ashara could’ve tried, perhaps that would’ve been for the better, but instead she decided to give him a chance to go. If Rowan needed to be by himself to get ready for the fight, Ashara understood that. She didn’t want to force him to stay with her, in case he didn’t want to. "Do you want to leave?"

"No. I want to stay with you."

There was a small smile tugging at his lips and Ashara leant down to press her lips against his again. Rowan would stay the night here, and Ashara didn’t care that it was dangerous. She just needed to be with him tonight, forget about tomorrow and just enjoy Rowan’s company. Whatever happened tomorrow would happen, and they’d deal with it then.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Trial by Combat
Chapter XLVI
House Wynver
Forwards From Beneath
Wheldrake, Crownlands of Aedighar
​

Fighting had never frightened Rowan. From the number of times, he’d had the gritty taste of mud in his mouth he had gotten quite used to the feeling of balancing a sword in his hand.

Often he would like to think that there was a reason he was the youngest of the Kingsguard. He had been so young compared to the rest of the Knights who looked down upon him. The scars that were scattered across his skin were there for a reason, and he was familiar with the taste of blood. A Southern Knight couldn’t stop him.

But no matter how many times Rowan told himself that, his lips felt dry and his hands were shaking.

Rowan could have fled. Stolen two horses and taken Ashara with him far away from Wheldrake, far away from the battle that waited for him. At least he couldn’t seem to find her as he glanced over the crowd. That was for the better. Even if he were to beat his opponent, Rowan would be uncomfortable with Ashara having to see him kill someone.

Whenever he was fighting, his eyes would darken almost like a whole other person had taken control of his body. All he would hear were the sounds of metal clashing, and it only drew him further and further into that state where he would react with anger to the smallest thing. Rowan didn’t want Ashara to see him like that, furious and stubborn. He wanted her to think of him as the caring person he had been towards her and not a Knight.

Though that was all he was in the eyes of the crowd. A Knight. He wasn’t Rowan then. Not the sweet man who would hold Ashara close to him all night while soothing her to sleep.

His life didn’t matter to them, and it never would. All they probably saw in him was the life of the Queen that depended on him. He had glanced up at them a couple of times wondering what went through their heads as Rowan was getting ready.

During his life, Rowan couldn’t think of one thing that made him deserve a gruesome death. He had taken care of his sisters, listened and respected his father, and protected the royal family. The Gods had to be on his side. He prayed that they would have mercy on him and give him the strength he needed to survive.

Rowan had promised Ashara that he would come back to her, and that was a promise he did not want to break.

If he hadn’t loved Ashara like he did, Rowan wouldn’t have been so afraid of facing what could be his death. In his eyes, she was his lover even if they had never spoken about what they truly shared. Leaving her after everything they had planned together wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair either. Rowan knew it was a sin to feel such a way for the Princess, but the Gods couldn’t judge him for that. He had treated Ashara like any man should have treated her.

What if he wouldn’t be able to protect her anymore?

What if Ashara got married off to a man who wouldn’t treat her like she deserved and Rowan couldn’t do anything about it. That was enough to feel like his body was getting feverishly warm from the blood that boiled through his veins. He had to survive, not only for himself but for Ashara. He had to protect her from all the horrors she was bound to face during her life.

There was quite a big crowd that was waiting for the fight to begin as Rowan was getting comfortable in his armor. It felt heavy against his chest and shoulders. After wearing it every day he would have expected to have gotten used to the feeling, but at that moment it felt heavier than usual, almost pressuring against his body. Or was that just the heavy feeling of a burden that lingered on his shoulders as his gaze shifted towards the man who stood on the opposite side of the area that would soon be covered in blood.

Southerners were strange and cunning. Rowan wasn’t clueless to the type of Knights that came from the hot deserts. Neither was he utterly oblivious to their fighting style.

In his eyes the choice of his opponent's armor was foolish. The leather was probably thick, but if Rowan got the right hits towards him, he would be able to cut right through the material. Though Rowan’s armor made him feel heavier, he knew he was more protected even if he would get exhausted much quicker. Hopefully, he would still find his advantages against the Southerner.

His fingers were gently placed around the handle of his sword. He was balancing it in his hand, getting familiar with the feeling of it as he looked down at the sharp edges of it.

When was the last time he had killed someone?

Rowan tried to remember, but whenever he tried to think of something all that came to him was how he had to do this for Ashara. How he had no choice but to kill the other Knight no matter who he was or how unfair it was. Surely he would be able to deal with whatever feelings he would have towards killing the Knight later. There was no time for worrying now.

Quickly he cleared his thoughts as he stepped forward into clear sight for the whole crowd to see him as his eyes were set on the man in front of him.

All the noise around him he pushed away as he glared at the man. There was almost something apologetic about his expression, something sincere in his eyes that Rowan couldn’t seem to pinpoint. Either way, he didn’t return it. His own expression was harsh, showing none of that fear he had felt earlier.

This wasn’t something he could feel sorry about when he remembered his lover waiting for him in her bedchamber.

No, Rowan would cut through his flesh and show no mercy for the man. He couldn’t bring himself to feel bad for him though he was an innocent knight who likely did not deserve to die. Neither did Rowan though, and that was why he knew he couldn’t feel bad for him when they were stuck in the same situation just because his Queen had chosen Rowan, and the knight’s Lady had chosen him. It didn't matter.

Rowan kept a distance between the two as he grasped his hand a little tighter around the handle of his sword. Gods, his heart was beating so fast in his chest.

 

[desti]

There was no shame in admitting fear, there was nothing wrong in feeling it. Only stupid men didn’t feel afraid, and in a duel a fool could never win. If Arthor wanted to beat a King’s Guard then he’d have to be smart about this, not just wave his sword around and hope for the best.

Though the thought of killing someone who was just doing their duties made Arthor sick to his stomach, he had no other choice. He couldn’t just back out now, that had never been an option. It was unfair and it was cruel, but that was the way of life in Aedighar, there was nothing that Arthor or the other Knight would be able to do about it.

During the last few hours Arthor had heard bits and pieces about Sir Rowan Barrin, though it really wasn’t that much information. He was slightly younger than him, but he had already served as a white cloak for about a decade. That spelled out bad news for Arthor, but at the same time perhaps it wasn’t that worrying. Arthor too had been a young, talented Knight and he could’ve joined the brotherhood if he had wished to do so. If Arthor was lucky, then Sir Rowan and him were somewhat equal in their skill.

It was a shame that Arthor hadn’t had the chance to see Sir Rowan fight. Then he would be able to make a conclusion about his style and how to approach it. Of course, that would make the fight a bit too easy, wouldn’t it?

Though people around him kept talking, Arthor still hadn’t said a word to anyone that day. It didn’t feel right, so Arthor didn’t even try. He’d even left his room before Leanah could wake up so that he wouldn’t have to hear what she had to say. Arthor didn’t want to see or talk to anyone, he wanted to be by himself and just focus on the task ahead. Other people and conversations would just distract him, and that wasn’t what Arthor needed, so he tried to lock his mind away.

One cup of wine had calmed his nerves a little. Arthor didn’t remember when was the last time he’d fought someone sober, so he didn’t want to break that pattern, almost as though it’d bring him bad luck. He’d won enough tourneys and duels with the help of wine, so Arthor didn’t think that’d it’d hurt him this time. Yet as he entered the arena and took in the atmosphere in it, Arthor wished that he would’ve drank even more.

It was dreadful. Arthor hadn’t imagined that people would actually come to watch this happen, but there was a large crowd that made him feel tiny in comparison. The thought that they all wanted to watch someone die today was frightening, and almost sad in a way. Arthor doubted that they actually cared who would win, as long as someone would die. Preferably as gruesomely as possible. Arthor tried to block them out as he prepared himself for what was to come.

Though perhaps it wasn’t something he ought to be doing, Arthor was never big on wearing armour. He saw it as something that would slow a man down, it was too heavy and uncomfortable in his opinion. Arthor always grew tired quick when he wore it, and in a duel that could mean life or death.

Weighing his sword in his hand, Arthor thought about what he would have to do. He was overcome with guilt and sadness as he thought about the fact that he’d have to murder someone. Arthor was a Knight, but killing innocents wasn’t exactly his favourite hobby. If only there was a way out of it…

In life’s most desperate moments, everyone became religious. Just for a few seconds, Arthor hung his head and begged the Gods to be just and fair. He wasn’t sure if he was praying for himself or for Sir Barrin, or perhaps it was a prayer to Lady Carlys or maybe the Queen. Arthor wasn’t sure, but either way he hoped that the Gods would hear him if they were true.

Turning around, Arthor took a breath and stepped into the arena. He felt the eyes of the crowd on him, but Arthor tried not to think about it. There was a big chance that there were bets being placed right at this moment, as though this was all just a game. To them, perhaps, it was, but to Arthor, Sir Rowan, Lady Carlys and Queen Katlyn it certainly wasn’t.

Just like he had thought, Sir Rowan was wearing full armour. That was both a relief and a terrible thing. On one hand, the King’s Guard would be slower than him, but on the other there were only a few spots were Arthor could really harm him. His eyes almost instinctively moved over the man, looking at the gaps between the plates of his armour. That was where Arthor’s blows should hit, and he tried to remember the weak spots.

As Arthor did that, the guilt inside of him just grew bigger and bigger. He couldn’t help the apologetic look that came over his face. It was stupid really, because Arthor could feel as bad for the man as ever and that still wouldn’t stop him from trying to murder him. As guilty or sad about it as Arthor felt, he would still do his best to survive. He had to win. For himself, for Lady Carlys, for Aedighar, for Leanah, for Elias.

Arthor was sure that the man in front of him had family, friends, and duties as well. Neither of them deserved to die, and that made this all a whole lot more difficult. One of them would be able to go back to their lives after today, and one of them wouldn’t. As bad as Arthor felt, he hoped that it would be him that would return, not Sir Rowan. He hoped the Gods would be merciful towards them both.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

The suspense was filling the atmosphere around them. Everything around Rowan just grew blurry. In his mind, he thought about the things he had learned over the years as a Kingsguard. It was almost pointless to stand there trying to figure a strategy out when he had no idea how the fight would actually go down.

For all he knew it could end up being quick and easy, but also long and exhausting. Rowan just hoped it would be over fast enough for him to run up to Ashara and tell her how he was alright.

If not then he prayed to the Gods that they would give him a quick death.

Rowan took a slight step to the side, eyes still lingering on the man in front of him. He had no idea who he was, only spotted him a couple of times during the trials. Perhaps it was bad luck that he hadn’t tried to find out who he was, but also Rowan hadn’t found it in him to care for the Hastwycks and their men. His focus had been entirely around Ashara the last few days. Rowan had no clue if he was a very skilled fighter or not.

Though he could easily assume that he was since he was the one that had been chosen by Lady Hastwyck.

It seemed as if they had stood there for hours before Rowan swung his sword towards the other knight. The sound of their swords clashing together filled the rather silent arena, but Rowan was quick to attempt to cut him again. It looked like the other knight wasn’t very interested in swinging his sword towards Rowan, but that didn’t stop him from keep charging on him. All he had to remember was not to exhaust himself.

Between his swings he would take a few steps to the side, moving around slowly, waiting to see if the other knight had any plans on attacking.

When that didn’t happen, Rowan didn’t waste time just walking around in circles. He was charging the other knight, giving him swift swings to defend as Rowan studied his movements. While he swung the sword, he tried to notice specific details about his way of defense. There had to be weaknesses to it, but all Rowan was doing was repeating his movements, making them way too predictable to defend.

Then Rowan would stop swinging only to get the other knight’s sword swung towards him. If he hadn’t had enough time to block it, Rowan wouldn’t have been too scared as it would only hit against his armor which wouldn’t cause any real damage.

Their moves were hardly damaging at all. If anything it seemed like they were just getting familiar with each other and their tactics. Rowan had yet to throw a swing at the other knight with the intent to hurt him. He imagined it was quite dull to watch, but Rowan knew if he went full on right away he would only send himself down onto the ground. That wasn’t what he wanted.

Over time Rowan’s swings became harsher, more focused on hurting his opponent. He was growing less predictable. Aiming for places he hadn’t aimed at before which soon enough ended with Rowan slicing at the other knight’s arm. Like expected the leather wasn’t durable enough like his own armor, and the fact that he had managed to actually cut him gave Rowan the confidence he needed.

His opponent stumbled back then, but Rowan didn’t hold back. Now his swings were fast and rough no matter how much he knew it would exhaust him.

Even if the other knight was swift on his feet due to the light armor, Rowan was trying his best to keep up with him, not wasting much time to swing his sword around in the air. But it wasn’t easy. Their swords kept hitting against each other, filling the air with the sound of the steel clashing together.

Rowan was for sure feeling how his armor was keeping him back from actually getting swings at the other knight, but at least he hadn’t gotten any cuts yet unlike his opponent.

They were at an even level of their skills which made the fight exciting, but long. Rowan imagined if they had the stamina for it they would have stood there blocking each other’s hits and swinging at the air for hours without getting somewhere, but Rowan was determined to see blood. Still wasn’t easy when all his opponent was doing was going around in circles trying to defend himself.

Rowan wanted to feel hits against his breastplate. He wanted to see anger and frustration, and it was almost like he got lucky as he decided to swing his sword and it hit against the other knight’s side. The sword didn’t cut through the leather this time as Rowan had turned the sword to smack it against the opponent instead. It felt good that he managed to hurt him, and for a second he was glad that the knight had chosen light armor instead.

It was like a whole new set of emotions rushed through his veins then, desperate to hurt the knight.

Then they were back to the going around in circles again, but this time Rowan didn’t want to waste a second as he charged towards the knight hitting his sword’s flat end against him again. This time against his shoulder. All his other attempts were dodged or defended though. Rowan knew he couldn’t just hit him and cut him. He had to find a way to pierce through his flesh with his sword to truly hurt his opponent.

It wasn’t until his opponent attempted to attack Rowan that he got to do that. Rowan had defended that attack with his sword, swiftly pulling the sword back from defending him only to charge it down at the knight’s leg. The tip of his sword pierced through his flesh, but Rowan didn’t waste time pushing it all the way through as he used his free hand to push the knight down onto the ground.

This could have been it. This was Rowan’s chance at finishing his opponent and winning it all so he could go back to Ashara.

 

[desti]

Initially Arthor had thought that the crowd would bother him. Now that he stood there, with his eyes fixated on Sir Rowan, Arthor forgot all about it. Faintly, he could hear them shouting things at them, but it was as though his head was underwater and the noise was muffled. It didn’t bother him, he hardly even noticed it. All Arthor thought about was his opponent.

The King’s Guard was the first to attack, just like Arthor had hoped. He didn’t plan on going for an attack until Sir Rowan was exhausted by his heavy armour. That wouldn’t be smart of him, and being cunning was the only way Arthor could actually beat him. Though they must’ve been the same height and roughly the same weight, Arthor felt as though Sir Rowan was much larger than him. How else could Arthor beat him if not with a solid plan?

As Sir Rowan’s sword came down upon him, Arthor blocked it almost easily. The sound filled the arena, and it sounded like music to his ears. Dreadful music that frightened every inch of his body, but still Arthor kept moving around and raising his sword against the Knight’s. His blocks were almost lazy in a way, as Arthor moved easily on his feet and only raised his arms to defend himself. There was no need to rush, no need to be offensive just yet. Arthor hoped that he looked much more confident than he actually felt.

That went on for awhile, and Arthor rarely actually matched Sir Rowan’s hits with his own. The few times he did, they landed harshly against the breastplate of his armour, not really doing much else other than causing a hollow, metallic sound to erupt. Arthor was trying to see a pattern in Rowan’s hits, and they seemed almost redundant. If he could break this pattern… perhaps that would work.

The crowd that was watching must’ve been bored out of their minds. Arthor thought that it likely wasn’t an exciting fight to watch just yet, but that didn’t really worry him. He wasn’t here to be excited, or have fun, he was here to die or kill. It didn’t really matter to him that his style of fighting wasn’t the most riveting.

Though that didn’t last long. It seemed Arthor’s defense was letting down a bit, or perhaps Rowan was starting to grow impatient. The hits of the Knight became more harsh, more unpredictable and soon Arthor felt a burning hot pain in his arm. He didn’t even have to look at it to know that he was bleeding. It didn’t really hurt after the initial shock, and Arthor forgot all about it as he went back into action, blocking Rowan’s hits to the best of his ability.

They were rougher now, more determined to hurt Arthor that was painfully obvious. He had to work double now, as he tried to evade his hits and block the ones that he couldn’t jump away from. Arthor was moving in circles around Sir Rowan, trying to tire him out as much as possible. Now that the King’s Guard was so aggressive, perhaps it’d happen much sooner than Arthor had initially thought.

Too many times did Arthor get hit with the flat side of the sword. It was twice too much, and Arthor didn’t like that one bit. He should’ve been able to parry the attack, to jump out of the way, but he hadn’t. Suddenly the fight didn’t seem that good anymore, not as hopeful as he would’ve imagined. The way Arthor was fighting now obviously wasn’t going to last him any much longer. He had to change things up if he wanted to win.

Then Arthor attacked. In the middle of the blow, Arthor realised that it had been a bad idea. It was doomed to fail, and Arthor realised that too late. Sir Rowan easily blocked Arthor’s hit and shoved his sword aside. It had cost Arthor too much energy to attempt this, and he didn’t have the time to react to Rowan’s sword coming down at his leg.

The sword dug into his leg by his knee, and even the adrenaline inside of him couldn’t help him with the pain that it caused. He let out a groan as his leg buckled, and even if Rowan wouldn’t have pushed him down Arthor would’ve likely fallen. When he landed awkwardly on it, Arthor didn’t even attempt to move his left leg as he gripped onto the handle of his sword tightly, looking up at his opponent.

This could be it. Sir Rowan could walk to him and shove his sword through Arthor’s unprotected neck and end it all. Arthor would have failed Lady Carlys, and he’d never see Leanah or Elias ever again. He couldn’t think about that just yet. The fight wasn’t over yet, Arthor refused to accept that.

Yet it all seemed hopeless when Sir Rowan got down on the ground on top of him. Arthor couldn’t think of a way to get out of this, and Arthor was sure that this must be it. He had thought that he’d likely get murdered at some point in his life, but Arthor didn’t think it’d happen like this. It was a shame, really, he had so many things he still wished to do, wished to say. Now that would never happen, but Arthor supposed that soon he wouldn’t care anyways.

All Arthor could do now was struggle feebly under Rowan as his heavy gauntlets hit him across the face again and again. His bones cracked under his hits, and his skin broke from the metal cutting it. Arthor could taste blood, and he felt the wetness from it all over his face, dripping down into his hair. He didn’t even want to think about how he must look like, not that it mattered.

Arthor had gotten beat up too many times in his life. He was used to it by now, but he’d never really been this close to death before. Everyone always told him that it was peaceful, that dying was easier than falling asleep. Right now nothing was peaceful, but Arthor hoped that once the Stranger would take him, all would be well.

A part of Arthor just wanted to lay there and let Rowan kill him, finally. Make the pain stop, and just end it already. At the same time, some primal instinct in him couldn’t bear the thought of it. Giving up without a proper fight didn’t sound like a good idea, and Arthor wanted to give Sir Rowan at least one scar to remember this by.

Though Arthor’s hands were clumsy, and he almost dropped his sword altogether, he managed to push it between them both. Sir Rowan was leant over him as his fists kept hitting against Arthor’s face, he must’ve not noticed. Arthor’s first thrust of the sword actually made it hit against his own hip and only with the second one did he manage to sneak it in through the gap at his thigh between Sir Rowan’s armour plates.

The sword dug deep into it, and Arthor grunted from just how exhausting it all was. His hands shook as he drove the sword deeper into Sir Rowan’s thigh. Arthor hadn’t even noticed that the punches had stopped. All he could feel then was something digging into his stomach.

Arthor’s hands moved away from the hilt of the sword, and they trembled as they traveled to his stomach. Sir Rowan fell forwards then, crushing Arthor underneath him. It made the pain in his stomach unbearable, and Arthor just wanted it all to end. He whimpered and squirmed slightly, and felt Sir Rowan roll off of him, though that didn’t really help all that much with the pain.

All Arthor could hear then was his own ragged breathing and his uneven heartbeat. His hands clutched around the bleeding hole in his stomach that the sword had left, as he foolishly tried to stop the blood from flowing out. What was happening to Sir Rowan didn’t really matter all that much to him, the pain was too intense for Arthor to think about him, as harsh as that might’ve been. Arthor saw the amount of blood that had come from Sir Rowan, and it didn’t look all too good. If he could’ve, Arthor might’ve even laughed at how they were both losers in the end.

Instead of focusing on Sir Rowan during his last moments, Arthor looked up at the sky above, as his body trembled and cramped terribly. Every inch of his body hurt so bad, that Arthor’s mind almost didn’t even register it. He didn’t think about the pain, he didn’t think about the blood that was covering his hands, and face, and every inch of him. That wasn’t what he wanted.

Arthor thought about Lady Carlys and how he had failed, and he hoped that she wouldn’t hate him. He thought he had served her and her family well over the years, as well as he possibly could have. That’s what he wanted to be remembered as by Lady Carlys - her always loyal sworn shield.

No doubt that Arthor had made many mistakes in his life. He hoped that Elias and Leanah would forgive him for that. Arthor hated that he wouldn’t get to tell Leanah that everything was alright, and he hated that he wasn’t able to say goodbye to Elias, that he’d never get to see either of them again. Tears stung at his eyes at the thought of that, and he hoped that they wouldn’t think badly of him.

Gods, the world was turning into a dizzy mess around him… everything was fading away, and so was Arthor. The need to sleep was so overwhelming, there was nothing Arthor could do to keep himself conscious. Arthor's eyes shut from the sheer exhaustion he felt, but while he thought about Leanah and Elias the pain didn’t seem all too bad as the world around him disappeared.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

The anger Rowan felt was making him stupid. Why was he angry? There was no reason for him to feel angry with the man beneath him as Rowan got down onto the ground to get on top of his opponent. Still, he was clenching his fist, throwing punches at the man like he was the reason to why Rowan was stuck in such a horrible situation.

Though it wasn’t. He had no idea who to blame for everything. All he knew was that he needed to get out of the fight alive, but still, he was focusing on hurting the knight instead of ending his life.

It was brutal. Blood was splattering from the man’s face and onto Rowan’s face. It was frightening how much Rowan wanted to beat him to death, give him a gruesome death that he most likely did not deserve. He was giving the crowd something to look at as he kept driving punches onto his face, over and over again.

The hunger for blood was only growing, and he was losing all sense of the world around him as he watched the bruised and bloody man under him. Who would have expected that such a sight would only drive him more furious, more eager? It was foolish. Rowan should have stopped and gained control over himself and the situation. Instead, he was being selfish and using the knight as his punching bag.

In fights, it was never smart to let emotions take over like Rowan was doing. It made him blind. All he could think about was Ashara and how much he loved her. How he was going to keep his promises and walk into her room proud over his accomplishments. Rowan was celebrating his victories too early. The knight wasn’t even dead yet, and in his mind, he was already ready to run back up to Ashara.

He was ready to hear people cheer for his victory even if they had wished for him to die. Rowan could see it in front of him. Victory. He could almost grasp it and feel it in his hands when everything suddenly stopped.

Blood was pouring out everywhere, and it wasn’t his opponent bleeding now. It was Rowan. His head already felt heavy, and he had no clue how he managed to drive his sword into the knight's abdomen before he fell down on top of him. Everything happened so quickly. Too quick for Rowan to process it as his skin paled from how fast blood was gushing out of his wound.

Rowan hadn’t noticed the knight and his sword. He had been so close to the taste of victory that he hadn’t seen what was happening beneath him, and now his thigh was cut open and the rather clean arena was being stained with his blood as he rolled off the knight’s body.

There was no pain. Adrenaline as pumping through his veins, but every time his heart beat more blood with pour out of him. The rhythm of his heart was so weak, desperately trying to pump blood around in his body to keep him alive, but Rowan couldn’t focus.

The world was spinning around him so fast that when he tried to put his hand over his wound, he only managed to rest his hand against his stomach before he became too weak to even lift a finger. He couldn’t even think of the fact that he had managed to stab the other knight. He didn’t have the strength to look over at the man and check if he had died. Gods, what if Rowan had managed to kill him. Did that mean he had won?

Rowan would be able to see Ashara again. See her pretty smile on her beautiful face, feel those sweet lips against his as they celebrated his victory. He had kept her promise hadn’t he?

This wouldn’t be the end for him. It couldn’t be. Rowan had promised Ashara this wouldn’t happen, and he tried to move, tried to look around for someone to come help him because he had won, right? There was nothing. He couldn’t hear anything, and he could barely see people moving around in the crowd.

Were they screaming or cheering? Rowan wasn’t sure.

His eyelids felt so heavy, and he could barely keep them up as he laid there. The breastplate was pushing against his chest, and it felt like he was suffocating as he laid there. Rowan didn’t even realize how quickly he was bleeding out from his wound, how there was already a pool of blood around him. He just thought about how happy Ashara would be now that he had done this for her.

Not a single part of him noticed the pain. He didn’t notice anything.

Even when it became tough to breathe did he think of what was truly happening. He was dying and all that was on his mind was his lover. His beautiful lover. It was like he could faintly see her blonde hair and pale complexion in front of him. He wanted to grab her and kiss her, tell her that everything was alright and that he had succeeded when in reality he hadn’t.

For a second he thought he had heard her. Heard her whisper meaningless words in his ear, but there was no one there. Rowan laid there alone with his opponent not far away as he felt like he was drifting off. It felt nice since he could have sworn Ashara was there with him. He could have sworn that he felt her delicate touch against his body. Was she happy for him?

Rowan tried to speak to her, he tried to touch her, and in his mind he was. He was holding her pretty face in his hands, smiling at her as he let her know that he had done all of this for her. That she was all that mattered to him. He told her how much he loved her, how he would always protect her and be by her side. Gods, he loved her. How had he been so lucky to get her? She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on.

In the eyes of everyone else, Rowan wasn’t moving. He was laying there completely still as he imagined things that weren’t there. His eyes were so lifeless and empty, though a part of him was still there struggling to stay alive even if there wasn’t a single chance he would.

At least he didn’t feel any of the pain. He didn’t even feel as if he was dying. Rowan didn’t realize.

Inside his mind, he was so overjoyed that he had been able to get back to Ashara that he didn’t notice how weak the rhythm of his heart was getting. He had been stupid for letting anger get control over him, and that had been the cause of his death, and still, Rowan laid there thinking he had won everything because he had managed to stab his opponent in the abdomen.

The sword was still deep in his thigh and Rowan didn’t feel it. He couldn’t even see it. Everything was such a blur around him. It felt like the world was spinning around him.

Now his complexion was so pale as the blood kept gushing out of his wound. The sword hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding, and Rowan’s head fell to the side, resting against his own shoulder as the rhythm of his heart eventually stopped. Something about his expression was peaceful as his eyes were completely empty now, still open, staring into nothing.

 

[desti]

Bringer of News.
Chapter XLVII
House Hastwyck
Sow knowledge, reap wisdom
Santrella, Southern lands of Aedighar
​

What had happened in the arena had shocked Lady Carlys and many others. Truly, she hadn’t known what to expect from the fight. Carlys knew that Sir Arthor was a very talented fighter, but could he stand up to a King’s Guard? She knew of Sir Rowan Barrin and just how skillful he was, and that had made her sleep uneasy the night before.

A trial by combat really wasn’t what Carlys had hoped for. It was uncertain, and she didn’t want the trial’s outcome to rest in the hands of the luckiest man. Whether or not the Queen’s head would stay attached to her shoulders, would now rely on many factors, not actual facts as it had before. Then again, had it ever done that? Carlys still didn’t believe that it’d been Katlyn behind this, so what did it matter how her fate would be chosen?

Still, Carlys wasn’t sure what to feel about it. There was only one outcome that would be good for her, and that was what she hoped would happen. Sir Arthor was a good man, and Carlys knew that she could trust him to fight his best. Not only that, but he was very talented and if any of the men Carlys had brought with her from Santrella had a chance to beat a King’s Guard, it was him.

There was fear inside of her as Carlys took her seat on a platform erected in the arena. She sat stiff as a board, as her eyes were glued where she could see Sir Arthor preparing for the fight. The thought of losing such a loyal man made her feel uncomfortable, but Carlys hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. Sir Rowan Barrin didn’t deserve to die either, at least not to Carlys’ knowledge, but that would have to happen for the greater good.

Though Carlys tried to contain herself, she found herself gripping the edge of her seat as the fight began. Arthor was so defensive that it made Carlys worried about just how long he’d be able to keep up with it. Like she feared, he soon suffered cuts and bruises, which made her audibly gasp. Carlys hoped that nobody noticed just how emotional she got about the fight, but it didn’t really matter either way.

When Sir Rowan struck Arthor in the knee and the man went down, Carlys thought that it was over. With the heavy gauntlets covering his hands, Sir Rowan beat Sir Arthor’s face until Carlys could only see how swollen and red it was. She sat too far away to see any details, and for once Carlys was almost happy about it. If Arthor was going to get beaten to death in front of her eyes, Carlys would like to not see it up close.

Then, the fight got confusing. Suddenly, Sir Rowan had frozen in place and all Carlys could see was a growing pool of red around the two men. It all happened so fast, so suddenly that initially Carlys wasn’t sure what was going on. Perhaps Arthor had finally died and that was it?

But that hadn’t been the case. The blood that was pouring was coming from Sir Rowan’s thigh, coating the ground of the arena red. Carlys noticed the sword sticking out of it as Rowan rolled off of Arthor to lay on his back. For a while, Carlys wasn’t sure what to do. Rowan’s movements stopped, but so had Arthor’s. From her viewpoint, they both had perished.

As it turned out later, though, that hadn’t been the case. While Arthor was terribly hurt, the Maester had found him to still be alive. At least for now. Sir Rowan, on the other hand, had perished from the blood loss almost immediately. Carlys couldn’t find it in her to feel bad for the man after seeing the extent of Sir Arthor’s injuries.

From afar they had looked bad, but up close they looked worse. Arthor was a handsome man, but now his face was swollen and covered in cuts and bruises. Everything about it seemed broken, but that wasn’t even really the worst of it. What worried Carlys most was the wound in Arthor’s stomach. The Maester had said that Arthor would live if he’d make it through to tomorrow, but that hadn’t really calmed Carlys down.

Since Sir Rowan had died first, Arthor was the winner. That meant that the Queen would face her execution in the coming days, but Carlys was too worried about her sworn shield to celebrate the victory. What if he wouldn’t make it to tomorrow? Arthor was a good man, Carlys prayed for the Gods to have mercy upon him.

While the Maester was tending to Arthor’s wounds, Carlys knew that there was another person who deserved to know what had happened. Her daughter and Sir Arthor had been close friends, and Carlys knew that well. For a while, she’d even wondered if there was something more between them, but Carlys was confident that Leanah would’ve told her if that was the case. She liked to think that they were close enough that they wouldn’t keep such secrets from one another.

Either way, Leanah had to know what had happened to Sir Arthor, and it was best that she’d hear it from Carlys. She couldn’t promise her daughter just yet that Arthor would survive, but she could at least let her know that he’d won the fight. Perhaps it would give Leanah some joy, or pride, or something to hold onto.

Carlys felt awkward as she stood in front of Leanah’s temporary room in the castle. She always felt strange to deliver bad news, although were they truly that bad? After all, Arthor had won. It wasn’t exactly the best outcome they could’ve gotten, but it also wasn’t the worst. Carlys raised her hand and knocked on the door, trying to think of a way to tell Leanah about what happened.

The door opened and Carlys saw her beautiful daughter. She had a smile on her face, but slowly faded away. Was it so obvious in Carlys’ face? She always thought that she was rather good at keeping herself looking emotionless, but perhaps that wasn’t the case here.

Carlys wasn’t sure just how much of the trial Leanah knew. She figured that word spread fast, and that Leanah must be into the loop by now. At least that would save her the conversation about that, but it wouldn’t make this any easier. Perhaps Leanah knew about the trial by combat as well, Carlys hadn’t had the chance to tell her about it, even though she had wished to.

“Leanah,” Carlys said quietly, “I’m sure you know enough about the trial by now, even if it hasn’t been me that’s been keeping you up to date. I’m afraid the news I bring are rather sorrowful."

 

[scoorpiuuss]

After falling asleep next to Arthor, Leanah had almost expected to wake up next to him also. Instead, she had been met by an empty room with no Arthor to be found anywhere.

Admittedly Leanah understood that it would be a stressful day for her friend and that perhaps her words wouldn’t help Arthor at all as she knew she would have worried for him as soon as they woke up. Still, she felt somewhat saddened by the fact that he hadn’t properly said goodbye to her just in case she would never see him again.

At least Leanah had gotten to hold him all through the night. Hopefully, that would give Arthor some comfort. For a second she had been tempted to sneak down to the arena, but Leanah knew Arthor hadn’t wished for her to be there, and after leaving his bedchamber, she had gone to her own.

Just as she had entered her room the worry, Leanah had felt the day before had crept up on her again. It felt unbearable to sit in her bedchamber, not knowing what was happening or if she would ever see Arthor again. There was no hiding the fact that she cared so deeply for her friend. He meant a lot to her, and even if they had committed a few mistakes, Leanah still loved her friend.

The thought of losing him pained her. Arthor didn’t deserve to die, and Leanah didn’t feel like she deserved to lose a friend. She was praying to the Gods that everything would be alright. That Arthor would come up to her room and knock on her door to hug her so she knew that he was okay.

They were so close to each other. Sometimes closer than what was normal for friends to be, but Leanah remembered what Arthor had said that one morning. It was just something friends did sometimes. Leanah wasn’t sure if Arthor truly meant that or if those were just words caused from the stress he had seemed to feel that morning, but either way, those words calmed her down as she found herself wondering just why they were so close.

It couldn’t be that unusual. Perhaps it was just strange.

Leanah laid in her bed for most of the morning. Sometimes she would stand up and go to look out the windows in the room, but she was so lost in her thoughts that nothing seemed to help her get rid of that worrying fear she had for Arthor. There was no one for her to talk to either. Her mother wasn’t around, but Leanah was still hoping that Arthor would soon come knocking at her door.

How long could a fight last?

The only time Leanah had been close to what couldn’t even be called fighting was between Arthor and her in the desert. That was a fun memory for her to think about. It was a day she would never forget as it truly showed her how dedicated Arthor was to their friendship. He had taken her out there and attempted to teach her how to fight no matter how much her mother wouldn’t have liked that.

All because Leanah had asked him to and wished to do it. If Arthor would be taken away from her at least she could remember him for that. Leanah wouldn’t think of their mistakes and be angry with him. She would think about their good memories. All their walks through the gardens and all their moments they had shared while just laying innocently on her bed holding each other.

Those sweet moments that never truly strayed far from her mind.

Especially now Leanah couldn’t seem to stop thinking about them. If she laid on her bed, she would clutch onto her pillows and close her eyes only to think about Arthor. It didn’t feel nearly as comforting as holding him did, but it was something, and just for a second she felt a little better about herself and the situation.

Then there had been a knock at the door, and right away Leanah thought Arthor had come to see her. He would tell her all about how he had won the fight, and Leanah would comfort him with whatever worries he might have felt during the fight. She was almost overjoyed as she walked over to the door with such a big smile tugging at her lips. Leanah couldn’t wait to feel his arms around her again.

But as she opened the door that smile quickly faded. Arthor wasn’t the one standing on the other side. It was her mother.

It didn’t take Leanah long to think of the worst the could have happened. Arthor had lost the fight and died, and now her mother was going to inform her that she would never be able to see her friend again. She could feel her heart drop to her stomach at the thought of that. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

No, it couldn’t be true. Arthor couldn’t be dead.

“Leanah, I’m sure you know enough about the trial by now, even if it hasn’t been me that’s been keeping you up to date. I’m afraid the news I bring are rather sorrowful."

At those words, Leanah froze in place where she stood. Her lips parted, but no words came out as she tried to say something. Tears were already pushing at the brim of eyes as she stood there thinking that Arthor had died. He had been taken away from her. Her breath was shaking as she tried to calm herself down, but it seemed impossible to do so. How could she be calm when the person she cared the most about had been taken away from her?

“No, please. Don’t tell me he’s dead. Please,” Leanah quietly cried out as she assumed the worst had happened.

"Arthor's alive, Leanah. But he's not well."

Her mother reached for Leanah’s hand, but Leanah took a step back, not accepting the comfort no matter how much she probably needed it. Not well? What was that supposed to mean? Leanah felt confused as she looked down at the ground wondering what had happened to Arthor.

“Not well? Is he dying? Mother, please don’t tell me I’m going to lose him. Please, I can’t.”

Leanah’s voice grew almost desperate as she felt like she was losing control over her own emotions. Losing Arthor was the last thing she needed, and she couldn’t seem to focus on her mother’s words that had said he was alive. Tears were still running down her cheeks. Leanah couldn’t stop thinking that she had lost Arthor. This would be it. She wouldn't be able to see him ever again. Leanah raised her hands up to her face, covering her eyes with her fingers as she let out a quiet sob.

 

[desti]

“No, please. Don’t tell me he’s dead. Please.”

Gods it pained Carlys to see her daughter so distraught. Now that she thought about it, perhaps the words she had chosen hadn’t been the best. Carlys should’ve immediately told Leanah everything, so that she wouldn’t think the worst of the situation.

"Arthor's alive, Leanah. But he's not well."

Again, it frightened Carlys to lose Arthor. There was a possibility that he wouldn’t make it to tomorrow, and that woudl be it. At least he wouldn’t be in pain anymore, but Carlys selfishly wanted Arthor to pull through so that he could continue serving House Hastwyck. It was strange of her, but she didn’t want to lose her best guard and most trusted man.

Obviously, Leanah woudln’t handle the loss very well either. Carlys thought that perhaps it wasn’t that good that Leanah was this close to Arthor, but then again she didn’t want to choose who Leanah could be friends with. She just wanted her daughter to be happy, and if Arthor made her joyous then so be it. It was just a shame that Leanah had to go through this, and grieve for Arthor, and in the worst case mourn for him. Carlys imagined that losing him would be incredibly tough for the girl. Who else did she have?

As Carlys reached out for Leanah’s hand, her daughter took a step back. That almost hurt Carlys because all she wanted to do was comfort her daughter. Was that so bad? How upset must Leanah be to not even accept this.

“Not well? Is he dying? Mother, please don’t tell me I’m going to lose him. Please, I can’t.”

Carlys heard a quiet sob escape Leanah’s lips as she raised her hands to cover her eyes. Her heart broke seeing her like this and she took a step forwards and pulled her into a tight hug, whether or not she wanted it. She just wanted to comfort her daughter, stroke her hair and tell her it was all alright. Carlys wanted to tell her that Arthor had fought bravely, that she was proud of him, but she wasn’t sure if that would help Leanah at all.

Truth be told, Arthor was the only friend of Leanah’s that Carlys knew of. She wasn’t sure if she had any other friends apart from him, definitely not someone who she was as close to that was for sure. Leanah had already lost her father, her brother and Carlys didn’t want her to lose Arthor now as well. It wouldn’t be fair, she didn’t want to see her daughter go through that pain again.

Carlys would make sure that the Maester would do anything in his might to save Arthor. Even if the man had to be by his bedside day and night, she didn’t care. Arthor wouldn’t die if Carlys could do something about it. They couldn’t lose him just yet, Leanah couldn’t lose him and Carlys wouldn’t let that happen.

As they stood there though, and Carlys listened to her sobs, she couldn’t promise that. She didn’t want to make false promises, and tell Leanah lies that were too good to be true. There was a chance that Arthor wouldn’t make it, and Leanah had to understand that. These harsh truths were necessary to hear.

Leaning back slightly, Carlys touched her arm and brought her other hand up to stroke Leanah’s hair. She didn’t want to hurt her daughter with her words, but it was for the better. It was best that Leanah knew everything so that she wouldn’t be hurt even greater later on.

"Leanah. I'm so sorry. I can't promise you that he'll survive. I hope he does, but I can't promise it."

"What happened?"

Carlys felt horrible for being the one to tell her all of this, but it was best that she heard it from her rather than someone else. She wanted to think that she could offer Leanah comfort that nobody else could. Carlys was her mother after all.

“The fight didn’t go that well for Sir Arthor. He won, but he suffered greatly.”

The Gods had truly been on Arthor’s side. Carlys still wasn’t sure how he had managed to survive, and yet he had. If the sword had went just a little more to the left, it would’ve been blocked by SIr Rowan’s armour, and Arthor would’ve likely been beaten to death. It was a horrible thought, and Carlys wanted to spare Leanah the details so that she wouldn’t think about what could’ve happened.

"He can't die. Please."

Carlys wished that she could tell Leanah that Arthor wouldn’t die, but that just wasn’t a good idea. She remembered how everyone had been when Benam was dying, and how everyone kept telling her all would be fine. That wasn’t what she wanted Leanah to go through, she needed to hear the truth, as harsh as it might be.

“You know I can’t decide that. I can't tell you if he'll live or die, it's not in my power. We can pray and hope for the best, but Arthor’s life is in the hands of the Maester and the Gods themselves."

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Initially Leanah hadn’t wanted her mother’s comfort. What she wanted was to see Arthor. She had wanted it to be him knocking at her door. It was supposed to be him standing there wanting to comfort her, but now Leanah had no idea what had happened to him. Her mother hadn’t given her much information.

All Leanah knew was that he was not doing well. That could mean a lot of things.

Leanah’s mind was rushing with thoughts, and all she could think about was how last night had been their last time together. They had talked about it, but Leanah had tried to be hopeful that they would be able to create more memories together, but now she had been hopeful for nothing. Or so it seemed as her mother pulled Leanah into a tight hug.

Gods, it felt unbearable.

Arthor was he friend, and they were supposed to be there for each other. Leanah had no idea what she would do without him. There was no way she would ever feel happy again without having him around, without being able to see that sweet smile on his face or hear his laugh. She was truly expecting the worst as she stood there sobbing and whimpering as she felt her mother’s hand stroking her hair.

Their friendship couldn’t end now. Leanah wasn’t ready to let Arthor go. There was still so much left for them to do, and there was a war coming, and now Leanah would have to go through that alone.

Then she remembered Elias. How would he handle the news of Arthor’s death or Arthor not doing so well? Leanah didn’t want to be the one to send those news. Her mother would have to do that was all Leanah could process in that moment was the fact that she thought she would never be able to talk or be with Arthor again.

Why were the Gods so cruel? Neither of them deserved this.

Her mother pulled away from the hug then, still resting her hand against Leanah’s arm while the other stroked her hair. Leanah looked up at her mother, her eyes red from the crying. When she tried to breathe her breath would stutter every time she inhaled. She felt like a pathetic mess standing there, but she trusted that her mother would understand her sadness.

"Leanah. I'm so sorry. I can't promise you that he'll survive. I hope he does, but I can't promise it."

"What happened?"

Leanah wasn’t sure if knowing what had happened would make it easier for her, but she felt the need to know. It pained her that her mother couldn’t promise that he would survive. How had he managed to get so hurt? Leanah wanted to see him. She wanted to be with him.

“The fight didn’t go that well for Sir Arthor. He won, but he suffered greatly.”

"He can't die. Please."

At least he had won. That was what Leanah tried to think about, but how could she be happy about him winning when they weren’t sure if he would survive or not. He couldn’t die. Leanah wouldn’t allow Arthor to die. She wanted to scream at her mother that he couldn’t die, that she couldn’t take it, but Leanah didn’t have the heart to yell at her mother like that. Her mother didn’t deserve that.

“You know I can’t decide that. I can't tell you if he'll live or die, it's not in my power. We can pray and hope for the best, but Arthor’s life is in the hands of the Maester and the Gods themselves."

“No, no. I can’t take it. He is all I have. I want to see him. Please, let me see him,” Leanah cried.

Her mother sighed then, "Leanah..."

“Take me to him. I need to see him. Please, I need to be there for him,” Leanah said as she pulled away from her mother’s grip. It didn’t matter to Leanah what had happened to Arthor. She needed to see him. Even if it would hurt her, she wanted to be there for her friend like he always had been there for her. That was only fair.

Leanah wasn’t sure if she would be able to go a whole day without seeing him, especially now knowing that they weren’t sure if he would live or not. If her mother didn’t allow her, then Leanah would find Arthor anyway.

There was no answer to that. Instead, her mother was looking at her with a concerned expression washing over her face. Leanah assumed it must have looked bad then, but that didn’t exactly stop her from wanting to see Arthor. If anything it just made her want to go to him more so she could comfort him in some way.

Perhaps the sight wouldn’t be good for her, but that didn’t matter.

“Please. I’m begging you. I need to be there for him.”

"Alright, Leanah, I'll take you to him. If you think you can handle seeing him like this."

Now it sounded even worse. Leanah couldn’t even imagine what had happened to him. She had never seen fighting up close before. When it came to violence, she was completely clueless as to what damage it could cause other than death. She didn’t know what to expect, but it was what she wanted.

“I want to see him,” she sighed as she brushed her hair away from her face. Quickly she wiped her tears away from her cheeks as well.

 

[desti]

“No, no. I can’t take it. He is all I have. I want to see him. Please, let me see him.”

“Leanah..."

“Take me to him. I need to see him. Please, I need to be there for him.”

Her daughter pulled away from her then. Carlys admired her loyalty to Sir Arthor, but at the same time she wanted to spare Leanah the gruesome sight. The blood had been washed away, obviously, but most of Arthor was covered in bruises, cuts and bandages.

When Carlys had first seen him, she honestly hadn't even recognised the man. It was strange when the Maester assured her that it truly was Arthor. Only then Carlys could really match his face to the one in her mind. Now, though, it looked broken, and though it'd heal over time she figured that he'd have many new scars from that day. If he was to survive, of course.

Would Leanah be able to handle that sight? Carlys worried about that. She didn't want her daughter to be hurt by seeing her friend like this. It worried her what Leanah's first reaction would be like. Even Carlys’ own hadn't been as ladylike as she would've liked, and the relationship she had with Arthor was purely professional.

Carlys also figured that Leanah might just sneak off to see him herself. There were gusrds outside of his doors because, honestly, Carlys didn't trust King Trevas one bit. She figured he might just decide to take revenge on Sir Arthor, therefore nobody was to enter or leave his room without Lady Carlys knowing. Still, the guards would likely let Leanah in anyways, since they knew her. Then, Carlys wouldn't be next to her and be able to comfort her. Would that really be the better outcome?

Though Carlys knew that Leanah was a sweet girl and likely wouldn't leave Arthor just because of this, she was still concerned. It hurt a person greatly to see someone they love in this sort of situation. She was worried that Leanah would care a little too much about this, and forget to care for herself.

“Please. I’m begging you. I need to be there for him.”

Carlys must've stood there silent for a while and not realised, because Leanah had spoken again. She understood her daughter’s wish. How could she deny it? Leanah deserved to see her friend, even if the sight hurt her. It would be for the better, even if it was painful.

"Alright, Leanah, I'll take you to him. If you think you can handle seeing him like this."

As far as Carlys knew, Leanah had been shielded from most of the horrors the world held. She didn't think Leanah had ever truly seen a man hurt, certainly not like this. Would Leanah be able to handle it? Carlys didn't know, but now she had already agreed to it and it was too late to back out now.

“I want to see him.”

Leanah wiped her tears and stroke the hair away from her face. She looked so determined now, and Carlys suddenly realised that the South would be in safe hands with Leanah. There was a small smile tugging at her lips, seeing her daughter so mature. It made her happy, if only for a moment. Sadly the moment was gone much too soon and Carlys simply nodded and turned to lead Leanah to Arthor's room.

The walk was quiet, and Carlys prepared herself for whst was to come. She expected Leanah to break down in tears again and Carlys was already trying to think of what to say. Of course it would hurt, no doubt about it, and Leanah would he upset at this. But Carlys would have to think of a way to make it all better.

When they reached the door, the guards greeted both of the Ladies before opening the door. Carlys touched Leanah's back gently as they went inside. The Maester was blocking the sight as he leant over Arthor, doing something. Carlys saw rolls of bandages nearby, so she figured that he was wrapping up Arthor even more. The blood loss made Carlys uneasy, but she tried to assure herself that the Maester knew what he was doing. The room had a faint smell of herbs, which Carlys assumed were used to soak up the bandages to help Arthor heal.

Almost immediately, Leanah rushed over to the bedside as tears ran down her cheeks again. The Maester ignored her while his hands worked to secure a bandage around the top of Arthor's head. With a few long steps, Carlys found herself next to Leanah and she wrapped her arms around the girl. Carlys gave a look to the Maester and he nodded, quickly finishing up his work before leaving the room for some privacy.

Carlys felt Leanah trembling in her arms, and she quietly tried to shush her, stroking her back to soothe her down. Of course that wouldn't work, but perhaps it give her at least a little bit of comfort. Her own curiosity got the best of her, and Carlys found herself looking over at the still body laying on the bed. Anything below his neck was covered in blankets, and most of his face also had plasters and bandages, therefore at least Leanah didn’t see the sight that Carlys had when Arthor was just brought in.

The Maester had said that he had been conscious at some point, but that was definitely not the case now. Carlys couldn’t imagine the sort of pain that Arthor must’ve been in now. That was a silly thought, he was likely going to get as much milk of the poppy as he’d need. It would help him deal with the pain and keep him unconscious until he was ready to start moving around. The Maester had said that he’d need help walking for a while, and Carlys hoped that it wouldn’t affect his fighting.

Kissing the side of Leanah’s head she pulled away slightly, “do you want to hear about the fight? Or should I spare the details?”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

They had started walking towards the room where Arthor was being kept.

Leanah had wanted to speak with her mother. Perhaps enlighten her about the situation she had found herself in with Arthor. She doubted her mother knew anything of what had happened between the two of them. Even the more innocent stuff like how Arthor had often slept over in her room. It was clear to everyone that they were friends, but Leanah was confident that no one knew how deep their friendship actually was.

It was maybe easy to see now that Leanah was quite worked up over the fact that there was a chance Arthor wouldn’t survive. She knew it was normal to worry about friends. Arthor had concerned about Elias once he had left Santrella. It was normal, but Leanah loved Arthor.

Had she lost a friend who she didn’t share such a friendship with she would have been upset, but she was grieving to the point where it felt difficult to breathe. It felt hard not to lose her mind over the thought of losing Arthor. It was only now she truly realized how much she cared about him, how much he meant to her.

Leanah wondered how she would be able to sleep for the next few days. Last time she had grieved, Arthor had been there to comfort her. He had protected her, and now he was the one laying there nearly dead. She had the comfort of her mother which was nice. Leanah wouldn’t have known what to do without her, and she was glad they shared an honest bond with each other, even if Leanah hadn’t exactly told her mother the truth.

That was only because Leanah didn’t know the truth herself. She had no idea what it was that she shared with Arthor other than their friendship. If there was something more she wasn’t sure of, and if Arthor were to die she would never get those answers she suddenly started seeking.

If she ever managed to figure it out, she would be open and honest with her mother about it. She would tell her everything that had happened from the day it had started but now wasn’t the right time. Now she just worried her mother would take it the wrong way.

It could wait until Arthor had fully healed and Leanah was sure about the two of them.

While they walked Leanah was quiet, not that she liked the uncomfortable silence between it, but because she didn’t know how to break it. All she seemed to be thinking about was Arthor. Would he live? Would she be able to laugh with him again? Leanah had no clue.

On the way over to the room, Leanah had managed to keep herself controlled to the point where she wasn’t crying anymore. Her cheeks had flushed red, and even her lips were slightly swollen. She was sure it was evident to everyone that she had been crying. Even to the guards who stood outside the room. She hoped they were able to understand her sadness and not judge her for it.

Just as the door opened, Leanah felt the same feeling she had felt one she had opened her door only to see her mother on the other side. Her heart dropped as panic rushed through her veins.

Gods, the sight was horrible. Arthor looked so broken, completely lifeless where he laid and even though the Maester seemed busy with something, Leanah had rushed over to him as tears were rushing down her cheeks again. This time she was sobbing more loudly, her bottom lip trembling every time she took a breath. What had the other Knight done to him? He looked completely beaten up.

Leanah wanted to touch him, she wanted to hold his hand and stroke her fingers through his hair, but she knew she couldn’t, and that broke her heart. He wasn’t conscious, so he wouldn’t feel anything either. How would her comfort help him then? Leanah felt helpless. She wanted to be there for him so badly and somehow make it easier for him, but nothing she could do would change anything.

There was a slight need for her to pour her heart out to him how she would never forget him or forget their memories, how she truly forgave him for the mistakes he had made, but both the Maester and her mother was still in the room. Saying those things in front of them was something she wasn’t comfortable with.

Though as soon as Leanah felt arms wrap around her, the Maester left.

Her eyes were lingering on Arthor was her mother pulled her into a hug. Again she felt her hand along her back, but it didn’t help. Leanah was still whimpering, crying her eyes dry looking at her friend so hurt. It wasn’t fair. Arthor didn’t deserve it. He felt her knees getting weak, and the need to sit down somewhere, but she instead leaned onto her mother.

“Do you want to hear about the fight? Or should I spare the details?”

Leanah hadn’t even noticed that her mother had pulled away. It felt like she was drifting away in her thoughts, thinking of all the things she wanted to do, but couldn’t. No matter how much it hurt to look at him, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. Not even when her mother had asked her a question did she look away.

“Tell me,” Leanah mumbled as she stepped closer to the bed.

"The fight was rather even, I think. I believe Sir Arthor was trying to exhaust the Queen's champion, which didn't quite work out in his favour. He should've fought more aggressively, but he was almost purely defending himself... the fight could've lasted for hours, it seemed. Arthor missed when he went in for an attack, and the King's Guard pushed him on the ground. Gods, I thought that was it. Arthor was just getting hit over and over again..."

It was foolish. Why was Leanah letting her mother tell her about what had happened? If anything it made her more upset. She wondered what would have happened if she was there and if she would have been able to see everything go down.

“He doesn’t deserve this,” she sighed, “he didn’t deserve that.”

Arthor was kind. He had been so worried about being a murderer, and Leanah wondered how he would feel if he ever woke up now. She wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be alright, but no she just stepped all the way over to the bed, looking down at his face as she wondered whether or now she should brush his hair out of his face. Gods, the sight was horrible.

“Poor Arthor,” Leanah whispered, quickly wiping her tears away before she carefully stroked a strand of hair away from his face, avoiding touching his cuts and bruises.

 

[desti]

“Tell me.”

Carlys wasn’t sure why she had thought it was a good idea to tell Leanah about the fight. She shouldn’t know about it, the less she knew the better. It was already hard enough for her, that was obvious. Now Carlys was telling Leanah what had happened, though omitting the fine details so she wouldn’t hear the worst of it.

As Carlys spoke, her eyes drifted over to the form of Arthor on the bed and she heard herself speak slower and slower. It was strange talking about him like this, stranger still to see him as he was. Arthor had always been so strong, now he looked broken in front of Carlys and Leanah. She wondered if he’d ever wake up, and if he’d be the same man.

What if he wouldn’t be? What if the injuries he suffered were great enough that he’d lose his talents? Carlys liked Sir Arthor and she wished to keep him as her sworn shield, but at the same time… if he’d prove that he wasn’t as good as he had been, then she’d just have to think of what to do. As much as Carlys liked having him around, she didn’t want to risk her or Leanah’s safety just to keep Arthor.

That didn’t really matter now. All Carlys had to think about now was whether or not Arthor would even wake up. Gods, if he didn’t… not only would she lose a loyal servant, but an advisor to her and a friend to her daughter. It would be devastating.

The words slowly faded out as she spoke and watched Arthor. She didn’t even get to the last part, but Carlys suddenly stopped wanting to do that. Leanah likely didn’t want to hear it anyways. It was gruesome and cruel, and if Arthor would wake he would be able to tell Leanah himself. If he’d want to do that, that is.

“He doesn’t deserve this,” Leanah sighed, “he didn’t deserve that.”

Of course Arthor didn’t deserve this. He was a kind man, loyal and helpful, and Carlys had felt guilty for making him her champion. At the same time, Arthor was the most skillful man she knew, so there hadn’t really been another choice in her mind as to who her champion could be. Arthor had just followed his orders, he hadn’t deserved to suffer like this.

The only person that deserved to suffer was King Trevas. Carlys would watch his wife get executed, and she hoped that it would hurt him to witness it. She didn’t know their relationship, she only knew as much as the rest of Aedighar, but she hoped that the years of marriage would mean that seeing his wife’s head cut off would pain the King greatly. Then Carlys would return to Santrella and wait. She’d wait for the Northerners to come and give Trevas what he deserved.

Those thoughts calmed her, as her eyes lingered on Arthor’s face. At least he had won. Even if he’d perish, at least it wouldn’t have been for nothing. After a few days, the Queen would be executed in front of Gods and men for crimes she may or may not have taken part in. That wasn’t the goal Carlys had hoped to achieve when she entered Wheldrake’s gates, but it was better than nothing. Even if it did cost Arthor’s life.

Perhaps it was wrong of Carlys to think that way. The only person left in the world that she wouldn’t sacrifice for the greater good was her daughter. Carlys would never be able to do that. The rest of them? No matter how much she liked them, how much she trusted them and their opinions, Carlys wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice them if need be.

The ends would justify whatever lives would be lost along the way. If that meant that Carlys was a bad person, then so be it, but all she cared about was Aedighar and Leanah. If she’d have to kill every person she knew to secure the safety of the realm and her daughter, Carlys would do it in an instant.

While losing Arthor would be dreadful, it was just the cost of war. One day, Leanah would get over the loss of him as hard as that might be. She was a sweet girl, she’d find new friends to replace Arthor, though Leanah likely wouldn’t wish to do that initially. Whatever would happen, Carlys would help Leanah get through it.

“Poor Arthor,” Leanah whispered and reached out, stroking away a strand of hair from Arthor’s face.

Carlys almost felt like she was bothering Leanah by being here. If she was in her place, she thought that she might want some privacy with Arthor. Considering that this might be the last time Leanah could see him, in case things would go bad during the night.

Pressing a soft kiss against the top of her head, Carlys moved away from Arthor’s bedside, “I’ll go speak with the Maester about Arthor. Will you be fine alone?”

Leanah only nodded at that and Carlys watched her and Arthor for a second more before turning and leaving the room. She felt bad that Leanah was going through this sort of pain, but there was nothing Carlys could do about it. Whatever would happen during the night they’d just have to find a way to deal with it, whether it’d be easy or tough.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Sorrow
Chapter XLVIII
House Rhyne
May all be as one
Nilfgaard, Northern lands of Aedighar
​

Elias had expected to attend meetings for most of his day. That was what his life had become after arriving in the North. Not that he had expected much else from it. Either he was reading or attending meetings with Lord Brynden and his men. On the few days where he found himself with a little free time, he would try to find Antra so he could entertain her, but if that didn’t work out Elias mostly laid in his tent just to breathe and feel at ease.

There was nothing else he could really do. It didn’t feel right to join some of the men to drink and make remarks about the few women at camp. Elias hadn’t been in the mood for any kind of wine or ale ever since he left Santrella. Now it only made him miss home a lot more than it should have.

When he woke up, he was ready like always. Early up to not anger Lord Brynden by arriving late, but then someone had managed to get a hold of him on his way out of his tent. Elias didn’t bother getting his name as he received a tiny scroll with some simple words written out on it. Last time he had gotten a letter was just a few days ago. Things were getting difficult in Wheldrake.

To him it seemed like things weren’t going the way they had planned it to go.

There had been a demand for a trial by combat, and Elias knew that could turn out to make all the work he had done with Arthor pointless. Elias wanted to be there with them and guide them through it, help them get what Lady Carlys wanted, but he couldn’t. Instead, he was left worrying for Arthor the next few days, wondering how the trial had gone since he would be Lady Carlys’ champion.

At first, Elias hadn’t thought much of it. It was Arthor, and he knew that man was a skilled knight. He was the one who could secure them a win, and though Elias wanted to worry about his friend, there was a sense of trust in the Gods and Arthor that nothing would happen to him.

That all changed as soon as he read the second letter. It was short, simple. All Elias got to know was that Arthor had won, but he was not doing well. Elias wasn’t stupid. He knew that his friend would likely not survive by the way things had been written in the letter.

All this time Elias had thought he would have been the one to die. He was going into a war, and he had no idea what would happen to him during that time. It wasn’t something he wished for, but never had he thought that Arthor could have been the one to face death. At that moment it didn’t make sense. Elias didn’t want it to make sense. He didn’t want to believe the words he had read. It couldn’t be true.

Arthor could die, and Elias couldn’t be there by his side to truly say goodbye to his best friend. It crushed him. Elias wanted to walk back to his tent to never be seen again.

This wasn’t what he wanted to happen. He thought that Lady Carlys would handle the trial just fine, and then everything would be fixed somehow. They would get justice for Timos, and that would be it. Elias felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. For not realizing how easy it was for the Crown to demand a trial by combat, and how Arthor would then be the one to fight for Lady Carlys, and now he would die because Elias hadn’t though of it sooner.

If only Elias would have been smarter, perhaps Arthor would be alive and well when Elias eventually would return to Santrella. Now he wasn’t even looking forward to going home in fear that Arthor wouldn’t be there to greet him.

There was no way Elias could handle the loss of Arthor.

They had worked together on solving the murder of Timos Hastwyck. Almost every night they had sat in the library trying to figure it out, and Elias had let them travel to Wheldrake alone without thinking about the consequences. Gods, how could he have been so damn foolish. Elias should have told Lady Carlys that the Northerners could wait, that it was important that he came with them to secure them a win, but he had been stupid. Now his friend would die because of Elias’ stupidity.

It felt like he was going mad as he stood there trying to take everything in, and the rest of his day didn’t turn out to go any better.

Elias’ mind was getting consumed with Arthor. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he had no idea if he had already died or was still alive. What if he was already dead? Elias didn’t get the closure of knowing what had happened to Arthor, and he figured he would have to wait a long time before the next raven would arrive with a letter for him. It was crushing him. Making his whole body ache and feel weak.

The meetings he attended went badly as Elias couldn’t focus. He tried to look at the map, but everything was so damn blurry to him. He couldn’t even open his mouth to say anything. It was pathetic.

At times it felt like someone was pushing their hands so hard against his chest which made it difficult to breathe. Nothing about those news were okay. Elias was happy that at least Lady Carlys had won the trial, but Arthor had probably died for that to happen, and was that truly worth it?

No, to Elias it wasn’t worth it. Not a single thing in Aedighar was worth losing Arthor over, and it made him devastated to think about. He should have never started speculating about Timos’ death. If he had just left it alone, then Arthor would still be alive, protecting the Hastwycks in Santrella.

In the end, Elias had left the meeting early.

There was no way he could stand being around other people when he felt his guilt and sadness build up inside him to the point where he felt like breaking down. It wasn’t a good idea, and he had quickly excused himself before disappearing from the meeting and back to his tent. Elias couldn’t stop reading those few words over and over again. He wanted to see Arthor and be there for him, but they were so far away.

“Elias.”

Elias looked up at Antra how now stood inside his tent. He hadn’t even heard her until she had said his name. Had she been standing there for long? Elias had lost track of everything as soon as he had stepped into his tent. Every thought he had in his mind was messing with his emotions, but at least he had managed to keep himself from crying.

As their gaze met he tried to smile at her because Elias was happy to see her, but at the same time those news about Arthor was making it very difficult for him to express that happiness.

“Lady Antra. Hi,” Elias stood up from the edge of the bed. His body still felt weak, but he didn’t want to make it obvious to her that he was upset. She didn’t need to worry about that.

 

[desti]

Every once in awhile, Antra would eat dinner with Brynden or Willelm. Concrete plans, something to look forwards to make Antra’s days more bearable. Spending some time with Brynden had been what she was excited for the whole day. Her eldest brother was always so busy, but sometimes he found time for her and Antra would always make sure to cherish those moments.

There was no resentment for her towards Brynden and Willelm for not having as much time for her as she’d like. They were men heavily involved with war and politics, of course they didn’t have that much free time. It did sadden her a little, but there was nothing Antra could do about it. She could only hope that the war would end soon and things would go back to normal.

Gods, Antra wished that would happen. That she could just go back some months ago, back to Nilfgaard. They had been such a happy family, everything was so good, so right. It had gone wrong that day father and mother left for Wheldrake. They should’ve never left Nilfgaard, and Antra hoped that this was all just a bad dream she’d soon wake up from. Father and Rhea would be alive, mother would be with them as well and everything would all just be like it used to.

Of course that would never be the case. Time wouldn’t be turned back, and the Stranger wouldn’t give back the souls he had taken. It was a harsh reality that Antra had to understand, and slowly she started to come to terms with it. It wasn’t easy and she still cried too often, she still felt upset and she still found it hard to truly live. But Antra hoped that one day she’d be able to be happy again. She’d grieve the loss of everyone for every day of her life, but Antra didn’t want that to keep her chained down. She wanted to live, remember everyone they’d lost along the way, but live. They would want that for her, Antra knew.

There were no secrets between Antra and Brynden. At least she hoped so. Antra knew that she told Brynden pretty much everything, and she wanted to think that it was the same for her brother. They were eating and talking then, and Antra happened to mention Elias and how she had grown to enjoy his company. That sparked another conversation, that made Antra feel strange.

Brynden spoke of the meeting that had happened before, and how Elias had acted strange. How he’d left before the meeting was over, even. There was no hatred in Brynden’s voice, but it seemed clear to Antra that he must be at least confused about the situation. Antra knew very well that her brother was rather slow when it came to reading other people, so she wondered if something was wrong with Elias that caused him to leave early.

As far as Antra knew, Elias took his work seriously. It must’ve been some valid reason that made him leave the meeting early. She hadn’t seen him last night, nor the night before. Had something happened since then? Perhaps the Northerners were upsetting him again?

Though Antra wanted to stay with Brynden a while longer and enjoy the few moments they had together, she found herself quickly finished her meal and excusing herself. The knowledge that Elias might not be doing well worried her and Antra wasn’t the kind of person who could just ignore these things. She was worried, and she wanted to know if he was alright.

Antra wasn’t sure if they counted as friends just yet. They had really just met a short time ago, and though Antra believed that they had grown closer over the weeks, she still wasn’t sure. Maybe Antra was overstepping some invisible boundaries, but, as father sometimes said, she was too kind for her own good. She worried about the people around her, whether or not they were best friends or strangers didn’t matter to her. Antra just wanted everyone to be alright.

Perhaps Elias just wasn’t feeling well. It wouldn’t surprise Antra if he had gotten sick from the cold and wet weather outside. Whatever it was, Antra just wanted to see for herself and hope for the best. She was so used to Elias being happy around her that even imagining him being upset was a strange thought.

Perhaps it wasn’t ladylike, but Antra had stepped into Elias’ tent unannounced. She felt awkward and improper as she stood there and her eyes finally settled on him, sitting on the edge of his bed. Though Antra had been here enough times already, it still felt strange for her every time she entered.

“Elias.”

When Antra spoke, Elias finally noticed her. It was as though he was deep in thought. Antra noted that he didn’t look sick, he didn’t look physically hurt in any way. He just looked very upset, and it was weird to see him like this. When Elias stood up and tried to smile, it just wasn’t the same as usual. He had such a beautiful smile, but the one Elias was attempting now was nowhere near what Antra was used to.

“Lady Antra. Hi.”

It was obvious that something wasn’t right. Elias looked so distraught even with that strange smile on his face, but Antra had no idea what might’ve caused this. Would he even tell her? All Antra knew was that she wanted to help Elias, because he had helped her.

“Is there something wrong, Elias?” Antra asked carefully as she stepped towards him.

“No. I’m alright.”

It would’ve been silly of Antra to expect Elias to admit to it. Still, even if he said that things were fine, she didn’t quite believe him. He just looked… off. Something about him just wasn’t right, and she wanted to help, but first Elias would need to admit to it.

Carefully taking a few more steps towards him, Antra continued, “Brynden said that you left the meeting early. That doesn't sound like you... Are you sure everything’s alright?”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

“Is there something wrong, Elias?”

There was something terribly wrong. Elias stood there thinking that his life would be over now if he would lose Arthor. It would be such a huge loss. Here he had been preparing himself for what it would have been like if he died, and then it had hit him out of nowhere that Arthor was most likely dead by now. It was so cruel, and Elias needed to let his emotions out, but to Lady Antra? No.

It would be very rude of Elias to seek help from her when it wasn’t her responsibility to worry for him. He liked to think that he would be fine later. That after thinking about it for a while he wouldn’t be bothered by it anymore, but that was a lie. Elias wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about Arthor.

If anything all of it had just made Elias think more about his friend and the friendship they shared with each other. Elias would have never thought that the day he would lose Arthor would come so soon. They were supposed to live good lives, healthy and happy lives no matter what would happen.

Now he would have to prepare himself for going back home and not be met by Arthor as soon as he stepped back into the castle.

“No. I’m alright.”

That wasn’t the truth, but Elias couldn’t seem to admit that he wasn't okay, that everything was crashing down in front of him, and how it felt like he was losing control of himself. Arthor was slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing for him to hold onto.

It wasn’t fair at all, but Antra shouldn’t worry. Elias wouldn’t let her worry when he felt as if he would only be a burden to her then for wanting a shoulder to cry on.

“Brynden said that you left the meeting early. That doesn't sound like you... Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Elias shook his head slightly, tearing his gaze away from Antra as he felt the need to cry. Gods, he wanted to let it all out, but it didn’t feel right. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself down, but his breath stuttered and soon followed the tears that he couldn’t stop from running down his cheeks. When was the last time he had actually cried? He couldn’t remember, but it felt strange.

Quickly he sat down at the edge of the bed again, covering his face as he let out a quiet sob. The Gods were so cruel, so damn cruel to him and the world around him. Punishing those who did not deserve it.

After realizing what he was doing, crying in front of Lady Antra, Elias wiped his tears, running his fingers through his hair instead as he tried to appear calm. He was sure Antra could already tell that nothing was fine though, but Elias wasn’t able to hide it. Gently he ripped at his own hair from the frustration he felt not truly knowing if Arthor was alive or not. It just left him assuming the worst.

“Elias…”

Antra kneeled in front of him, placing her arms around him, and Elias felt so bad to make her comfort him, but he couldn’t say no. Not when he knew that he needed it. He leaned down towards her so he could wrap his own arms around her, pulling her body closer to his. It felt so nice to have her close to him.

It was comforting, and Elias let his head rest against her shoulder as he let out another sob. Her hand was stroking against his back, and it felt like breathing became a little easier now that Antra was there with him. Elias rested his own hands against her back, one over her hair as he kept them completely still. He didn’t want to startle her, and it wasn’t right of him to touch her like that if she didn’t want that.

“I’m sorry,” Elias mumbled as he finally let Antra go. He had pulled away from the hug and avoided Antra’s gaze.

"What are you apologising for? What's wrong, Elias? Talk to me."

There was a soft hand against his cheek then, causing Elias to lift his gaze and meet Antra’s. He sighed at her question, not knowing just how he would tell her. In reality, he had no idea how to say it since he had no idea himself what had happened to Arthor.

“My friend isn’t doing so well. I think he might not survive.”

Elias leaned his head against her hand, closing his eyes for a second as he took in the warm feeling that spread through his body from her gentle touch. What had he done to deserve her kindness? It was overwhelming to him, but he didn’t want it to stop either, so he placed his own hand over hers, holding it there in place so he could feel her warmth against his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Elias."

“I will lose him, and I can’t even be there for him.”

It broke Elias thinking about that. At least he had the Hastwycks by his side. He knew they would support him, but he still wanted to be there himself even if he couldn’t. It would have taken him weeks to get to Wheldrake or Santrella, and Elias had to stay with Lord Brynden now. That was his mission, a promise he had made to Lady Carlys. He couldn’t break that just because he wanted to see his friend.

“He might already be dead.”