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Fantasy Aedighar [closed]

It was so incredibly foolish of Elaria to feel the need to have someone to care for her when the only person who was there with her was Justan. They had never shared anything that made it acceptable for her to need him, but in a way she did. She didn’t want Justan like that. She would never want Justan’s touch or embrace. It would only feel wrong and uncomfortable, but Elaria wanted to be taken care of. She needed it. No one else around her could hold her or whisper soothing words in her ear.

Perhaps it was the wine that made her feel that way, like she was craving some form of attention from Justan. Elaria craved the feeling of security, something she doubted Justan would ever be able to give her. He hadn’t protected her, and he didn’t care for her. He didn’t keep her safe, why would he now? Elaria wondered if he would have even stopped her if she were to hurt herself or do something foolish.

All he did was hurt her and break her down. Why would he attempt to help her or strengthen her?

Still Elaria wanted him to care no matter how fucked up they both were. In reality she wanted Justan to be someone who he wasn’t because then everything would have been a lot easier. Then maybe Elaria could have loved him and given him a child for them to love together, and maybe she would have been a better wife to him. Things would have been so much better then, but how could she do that?

Elaria was refusing herself of letting Timos go. She was keeping herself away from Justan because she was so frightened, not of him, but what it would make her feel. Most of their touches had made her uncomfortable, but none of them had been out of care or love. Would that make it different? Perhaps not.

They were both in the same messy situation together, and still, they couldn’t take care of each other. All they could do was ignore and avoid the other. They would go days without saying a single word, and neither of them seemed to care or make an effort into changing things. Elaria thought they were both cowards and pathetic. She especially felt pathetic when she thought that Justan’s embrace would comfort her. It would never give her any sort of comfort after all the horrible things he had put her through, even if deep down it wasn’t his fault.

Slowly Elaria had made her way away from Justan and towards the balcony. The initial anger was fading as that aching feeling of grief was washing over her again. She felt like crying again, but nothing ever came out. Maybe she had already cried her eyes dry. It felt hard to breathe knowing she was so alone with no one to take care of her. She knew she should have grown up and been able to take care of herself, but she felt so weak.

Then Elaria heard her name as Justan had stood up and walked closer to her. She didn’t need to look behind her to know. She had heard the sound of the chair moving against the floor, and he sounded so close. Elaria let out a soft sigh, wondering what to tell him. That she needed to be held? That she needed a shoulder to cry on?

"I have lost everyone that once cared about me."

When Elaria felt his hand against her shoulder, it felt like her whole body was frozen in place. His touch wasn’t harsh like her touch had been earlier. It was gentle, but Elaria didn’t feel much. Was it supposed to comfort her? Perhaps it was comforting her, but she wasn’t used to it, and now it only felt strange. She wasn’t sure, but she let Justan touch her without pulling away.

“I’m so sorry, Elaria.”

Elaria raised her own hand to rest over his, and her fingers squeezed around his knuckles just like she had on their wedding day when they had stood in front of so many people after just becoming husband and wife. She squeezed so damn tightly, not afraid that it would hurt him in any way. It felt good holding onto him like that even if it made her feel uncomfortable at the same time.

“Are you?”

"Of course."

“I don’t believe you are.”

"Why's that?"

“Then we would have been better.”

Slowly Elaria turned around so she would lose her balance. She let Justan’s hand go as she looked up at him. He was her husband. If he was sorry, he would have done something about it, and they would maybe have been a lot happier or better together. Justan couldn’t be sorry.

"You think I wanted this?"

“What do you want, Justan?”

"Not this, that's for sure."

Elaria raised her hands then, putting them against his chest before she pushed him away, “why are you here then? You’re not trying. You don’t care. Why don’t you just leave?” It would have been for the better of one of them dared to leave the other, but Elaria didn’t understand why they didn’t. She could have left, ran away somewhere far away from her family and Justan, but still, she stayed and continued to live a miserable life.

"Leave? And go where, exactly?"

“I don’t know? Far away where you can be happy. Where you can find a woman who will love you and be better to you than what I am.”

Again she raised her hands and put them against his chest as she stepped forward to push him again, but she didn’t push him. She felt so upset with him that she just stood there looking pathetic as her fingers grasped onto the fabric of his clothes. Elaria tore her gaze away from him as she just held onto him. Gods, why was she so foolish. Tomorrow she would regret everything.
 
Justan had half-expected Elaria to do something stupid. The last time it had ended with wine being spilled all over him, as he sat by their table like the pathetic weakling he was. He was almost curious as to what she’d do this time.

In a quick moment, Elaria raised her hands and put them against his chest, giving him a push. Really, it wasn’t that hard and Justan could’ve stayed still but he stumbled back anyways almost as if to humour her. He was more surprised than anything that she had chosen to get somewhat physical.

“Why are you here then? You’re not trying. You don’t care. Why don’t you just leave?”

It almost made him laugh. If Justan could leave, he’d already be gone. All Justan wanted to do now was go home, see and talk to Sarisa and try to forget what happened here in Wheldrake. Even if he’d do that, would he be able to forget? These fucked up days and nights with Elaria would haunt his mind forever, there was no way that Justan could ever move on from that. It was disgusting, it was vile, and he was a horrible man.

What would Sarisa think of this? Would she love him, still call him a brother after hearing of the disgusting things he’d done? Sarisa had always been more independent than him, less willing to please their parents. She’d likely be disappointed in him and appalled by what he’d done to appease father. Justan knew that home wouldn’t be where he’d go.

Where then? Justan had nobody else. He wasn’t familiar with any other relatives he might have, he only had his sister. In a fucked up way, Justan had Elaria. She was the only one that understood what he was going through. Then again, did she? Justan didn’t think their pain was equal, he dared to think that Elaria was suffering more greatly than he did. Thinking about it just made a sick feeling rest in his gut, and all he wanted to do was leave. Why had this happened to them? What had they done to deserve this fate?

"Leave? And go where, exactly?" Justan finally spoke.

“I don’t know? Far away where you can be happy. Where you can find a woman who will love you and be better to you than what I am.”

As lovely as that sounded, Justan knew that was impossible. Running away from the King? Yes, that sounded like a great plan. Additionally, Justan had lost all interest in women at this point. He didn’t want to love, nor did he want to be loved. He didn’t deserve it. He only deserved the hate and disgust that Elaria harbored for him.

Once again, Elaria’s hands raised as she pushed them against his chest again. But there wasn’t the same harshness from before, instead Elaria’s fingers grasped onto the fabric of his shirt. Justan stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Should he reach out? Should he hold her? That sounded like a horrible idea. It would only make them both more uncomfortable.

Instead, Justan took her hands in his gently and pulled them away from him before letting them go, “Elaria, neither of us can leave. No matter how much we want to. Your father, my father, they would find us eventually. We’re married, we’re bound for life whether we want to be or not.”

"You're a shitty husband, Justan."

That he couldn’t deny. No husband would treat his wife like this. Not a good one, anyways. Justan had always seen his parents’ marriage and he wanted to be better than his father. He wanted to be a good husband, a good man, love his wife and cherish her. This wasn’t what he had in mind. Not even in his worst nightmares did he imagine that his life would come to this.

While Elaria stumbled over to the balcony, Justan moved back to the table. He found the cup that Elaria had thrown away and filled it to the brim with the crimson liquid. Justan threw his head back and drank the whole damn thing way too fast. It didn’t matter, he thought, while he wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. There wasn’t too much wine left in the pitcher, but Justan filled up a second cup and drank it about as fast. For now, he didn’t feel the wine, but he figured that it’d catch up with him.

Before all of this, Justan rarely drank. He liked wine, he liked the buzz it gave him, but he’d never relied on it. Now it seemed like wine and ale, and everything in between were his only friends. They warmed him from the inside and made the world seem a bit less dull around him. He wished it would also make him happier, but alas that wasn’t the case.

With the third cup of wine in his hand, Justan felt the urge to talk to Elaria. He should’ve left her alone, let her think on the balcony. Either way, he would feel shitty about it. Did it really matter which choice he’d make if both of them were wrong?

Justan stepped out into the balcony, feeling the cool air around him rush through his hair. The air smelled just a little like the sea in front of them, and he could faintly hear the waves crash against the walls of the city. Justan imagined it would be quite relaxing to stand on the balcony and think, but right now all he felt was the overwhelming feeling of uncomfort.

“I am a horrible husband. I know, Elaria, and I am so sorry,” Justan said then chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity of apologising for such things. There was nothing he could say that would make Elaria forgive him for the things he’d done. A simple ‘I am so sorry’ definitely wouldn’t do shit. Justan really was an idiot. If he’d stand too close to the ledge, perhaps Elaria would push him off. She’d like that, he imagined. He would too.
 
Truly Justan was a shitty husband in Elaria’s eyes. It wasn’t really surprising to her that Justan was as pathetic as he was. If anything she should have expected it. It was foolish of her to think for a second that he would drop the act to hold her or do something that would make her feel better. Nothing could make her feel better, at least Justan could never make her feel any better. They would never work out. They would never be good. Even if they both had wanted to do better, it was too late.

The damage had already been done.

Elaria made her way over to the balcony. There was no point in trying to speak to Justan. None of his words gave her any sort of comfort. All they did was annoy her or upset her even more. It was so clear to her that they were both so miserable, too miserable to care about the other. Elaria didn’t understand why she was trying. It was only because if the wine, she would be sure of that in the morning. Now everything was just like a terrible haze she wanted to get out off. The wine was making her stupid.

Her hands rested against the cold stone of the balcony as she stood there looking out at the endless sea right by the city. Perhaps she would have been better off if she were to run away? Travel across the sea so far away from everyone she knew to the point where no one could find her. It would be way too dangerous, and she imagined she would have it a lot more worse out in the world than with Justan though.

There was no place in Aedighar for her. Elaria had belonged with Timos. Maybe Lady Carlys would take care of her if she asked to come with them, but Elaria doubted that would work out. Her father would just come looking for her, and she knew it would only end up getting worse for her in the long run. There was nothing she could do, no one she could go to. Elaria felt so damn alone and lost, like she had nowhere to belong or feel happy.

Usually feeling the wind in her hair and that same cold breeze against her skin would help. It was refreshing, but now she hated it. Everything about Wheldrake made her feel uncomfortable, all because of Justan or her mother who had taken Timos away from her.

Gods, Elaria wasn’t sure who to blame anymore. Maybe it was her own fault it all was happening. She had probably angered the Gods, and this was their punishment.

“I am a horrible husband. I know, Elaria, and I am so sorry.”

Elaria hadn’t noticed that Justan stood on the balcony with her now, not until he spoke. At first, she wanted to yell at him to leave her alone. She didn’t want his company anymore, and she thought she had made that very clear just a few minutes ago. Or had it been longer? Elaria had no idea how long she had been standing there for, lost in her mind with those damn thoughts that wouldn’t leave her alone.

Then she managed to calm herself down, knowing that yelling at him wouldn’t make her night more enjoyable, not that it even was.

“You don’t have to apologize, Justan.”

"It's not like I really can apologise for what I've done. It's not something you could ever forgive me for."

“You’re right. I will never forgive you.”

"I don't want you to. I'll never forgive myself."

Most of the time Elaria tried not to think about what happened between them at night. There was nothing she could do about it, though she had never tried to make him stop. Would it have made a difference? Would Justan have stopped if she had asked to? A part of her doubted that just because everything that had happened. He had already ruined her and made her life miserable. Stopping it wouldn’t make her life better. She would never forget it even if she tried so hard to do so.

“I don’t know why I am talking to you. I’m never going to be happy anyway.”

"Neither of us will ever be happy. All we can do is be miserable together."

“Together? We will never be together in anything whether that be love or misery.”

"Well, whether you like it or not we're both miserable because of the same things so..."

Elaria turned around to look at him. Again there was that deep need to yell at him or do something to him. Why did she want to hurt him? Was it because he had hurt her so many times? All she wanted to do as she stood there looking at him was to slap him, push him or do something that would make him feel pain, but Elaria had already heard the pain in his voice. How he had said he would never forgive himself.

“We are miserable because of you.”

"I know. You think I enjoy this? Do you think that this was my choice?"

Justan stepped closer to her. They were standing so close that with one easy push Elaria could have sent him away from her and back into their room, but she didn’t do anything. That courage she’d had in their room where she had pushed him and thrown their cups around had faded. Now all she could do was stand there and look pathetic, again like she was expecting something she didn’t really want.

“You could have tried to make things better, but it doesn’t matter anymore, Justan. It is too late.”
 
“I don’t know why I am talking to you. I’m never going to be happy anyway.”

Happiness seemed like a distant memory at this point. What had it even felt like? Justan could barely remember. He was so fucking miserable here in Wheldrake, here with Elaria. This city was sucking him dry, making his life a living hell. When Justan remembered how excited he’d been to marry the Princess, he felt foolish and naive.

"Neither of us will ever be happy. All we can do is be miserable together."

“Together? We will never be together in anything whether that be love or misery.”

"Well, whether you like it or not we're both miserable because of the same things so..."

“We are miserable because of you.”

There was no way Justan could ever deny that. It was his fault. He should’ve been stronger, he should’ve not let the pressure get to him. His Lord father and the King were so adamant about having Justan give Elaria a child that he’d just… it was disgusting, it was horrible and Justan was absolutely horrified by his actions. There was nothing that could ever make this better.

Every time it had to be done, Justan hoped that it would be the last time. He didn’t know if one child would be enough in the eyes of their parents, but he fucking hoped that’d be the case. Justan just wanted this to stop, he wanted to stop what he was doing. A child didn’t come forth though, and Justan was almost certain by this point that it’d never happen.

"I know. You think I enjoy this? Do you think that this was my choice?"

“You could have tried to make things better, but it doesn’t matter anymore, Justan. It is too late.”

If Justan was stronger, then perhaps he could’ve made things better. Before it was too late, before he hurt her. But Justan had been so petrified, he hadn’t known what to do, and he fucked it up. It sickened him, but like Elaria said - now it was too late. The wounds would never heal, no matter what they said or did.

“I know,” Justan mumbled, feeling immense amount of shame over his deeds, “I know, Elaria. I should’ve thought of something, I should’ve never done that to you… I just -- I didn’t know what to do.”

"Because you're dumb."

“I am a fool. I’m weak and a fool, and you suffer because of it.”

"Just forget about it, Justan. There's nothing we can do."

Elaria was right. What could be done about their situation? It was much too late at this point, nothing could save them now. The memories would always haunt Justan, and he imagined that Elaria would feel the same way. Their parents didn’t know what happened behind closed doors, and Justan didn’t exactly want to face them if the truth ever came out.

All they could do now was just live on with it, as painful and horrendous as their situation was. Justan hated every second of it, but that was just how their lives were. Their parents had pushed this upon them, and Justan had sealed their fate with the many mistakes he’d made ever since their wedding. If the situation was different, perhaps one day they would’ve learnt to love each other. But now? Now, there was nothing between them, and that would be so until the end of their days.

“I know,” Justan mumbled, “you deserved better. You deserved Timos, you deserved to be happy.”

"I'm sure you deserved to be happy once too."

“Once, maybe. Not anymore,” Justan said as he shook his head, and turned to head back into their room.

"Perhaps we shouldn't speak to each other ever again. Seems like it only does us more harm than good."

When had they ever had a good conversation? Justan couldn’t recall one instance when that could be said. They were bad talkers, they had nothing in common apart from their misery, and their conversations always ended up messy. Justan figured that it was because they were too far gone at this point. How could they talk like normal people, and then do what they did later on?

They went back inside the room then, and Justan nodded his head slightly, “I agree. I think it’s best we keep our mouths shut.”

Yet Justan feared that one day they’d speak again. One of them, or both, would drink too much again and they’d end up having a dreadful conversation once more. It seemed unavoidable, after all. They were married, they couldn’t go years without having a conversation.

"Then why are we still talking?"

A good question that Justan didn’t have the answer to. Instead, Justan just shrugged and moved back to the table. He grabbed the pitcher and emptied into the cup, getting about halfway through before the wine ended. Justan heard Elaria’s footsteps and he saw her in the corner of his eye as she made her way towards the bed. A good husband would’ve gone to her, hugged her and comforted her. A good husband would’ve done that, but Justan just drank his wine.

 
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Unfamiliarity
Chapter LII
House Faerson
We were, we are, we will be.
Stormwind, Eastern lands of Aedighar
​
After so many months of being away, Aryana found it strange coming back home. The familiarity of Stormwind all of a sudden felt so foreign. She had prepared herself to never see Stormwind again. If she had known she would leave Stormwind to get married off to Lord Brynden, then perhaps she would have used more time to say goodbye, but now there was no point in worrying about that. She was back where she belonged, and she wouldn’t marry the Northern Lord or have to live the rest of her life in a cold and harsh climate.

Those news had been so sudden to her. Aryana remembered the day Lord Brynden had told her about it, how conflicted she had felt. At that time she wanted to trust the Northern Lord and her father. Surely they would learn to be comfortable with each other? That hadn’t happened, and Aryana didn’t understand why she had expected something else.

They were in a war after all, and she was just a Lady with no true purpose at that camp.

It was rather easy for Aryana to forget about Lord Brynden. They had no connection to each other, and now that they wouldn’t be married she had no reason to remember him. Aryana was sure some of the women she often spoke to would swoon and admire the fact she was to marry such a Lord like Brynden, but now she wouldn’t. Perhaps they would even be jealous that she’d had a chance with a man like him, but Aryana didn’t see Lord Brynden as a man like that.

All they probably knew was that he was the Lord of a Great House and that meant power and riches if they would get the chance to marry him.

They had no idea that he was a man who would likely never be faithful to his wife. Aryana had clearly gotten that impression after everything about the whores had come into the light for her. In her eyes, Lord Brynden had more time to enjoy another woman’s company rather than the company of the Lady that was to be his wife. That wasn’t a good quality to have, and even if she did feel sorry for the things she had said to him, she was still glad that the marriage was officially never going to happen.

There was one thing that bothered Aryana. What would happen now?

It had been so clear what would happen. They would assist the Northerners in the upcoming war, then Aryana would marry into the Rhyne House, and her father had a plan of what would happen to the East. Now it seemed like all those plans were being put aside just because of what had happened to Rhea Rhyne. Gods, it was confusing, to say the least. Aryana was still annoyed with the Northerners and how they had treated her father’s men at camp, or how they had treated Sir Darron.

If Aryana could, she would have said something awful to all of them before they left, but she didn’t want to get scolded for having a sharp tongue by her father. Also she knew she would regret it. What had happened to Sir Darron was unfair, but Aryana suspected only she knew the real truth behind Sir Darron’s relationship with Lord Brynden’s sister. She hadn’t told anyone about it. Keeping secrets was tough, but she had so much respect for Sir Darron that she wouldn’t tell his secrets to others.

Aryana felt sorry that she hadn’t tried to speak much to Sir Darron after they had arrived in Stormwind. Perhaps it was for the better to let the Knight settle before she started asking questions. At least he was a free man now, and Aryana was in a way also free since she wasn’t to be Lord Brynden’s wife. She wondered if her father had new plans for her now. Would she marry another Lord? Would anyone even want to marry her?

There was still time, but a part of Aryana feared she would grow old without no children or anyone at her side. Though she didn’t expect her father to allow that to happen. One day he would likely find her a Lord to marry, or that was what she wished for.

Marriage could be a beautiful thing. Aryana adored those who were lucky enough to find love in their husband or wife. She also thought about what children would be like. Would she have many or just a few? She had no siblings, and it had been terribly lonely at times even if her father had been there a lot for her.

If she were to have children one day, she would want them to have siblings, but it was foolish of her to think of such things now. There was no way of knowing what would happen to her, but whatever it would be she had trust in her father to find her a good man who she could learn to love.

Aryana had made her way through the castle. Most of the day had been spent in her room trying to settle down after such a long journey. They had been in Stormwind for a couple of days now if not more, and she found herself stopping in front of the larger wooden door that led to her father’s study. Most of the time she wouldn’t bother him until the evening when he wouldn’t be busy, but Aryana wanted to speak to him. Especially now that she had so many questions about her future.

Her knuckles tapped gently against the wood before she reached for the handle to open the door up, “father?”

Her father looked a little busy since he sat there with a letter, but Aryana took a step into the room. Perhaps she could have waited until later, but she hoped her father wouldn’t mind. All through her life, she had been able to go to him about anything, but she imagined it was because she didn’t have a mother to go to about other problems. Like those she had now. Marriage problems. Still, she trusted and loved her father, and respected his judgment when it came to such things, and she didn’t mind talking to him about it.

“Aryana.”

“My apologies if I'm bothering you father, I wanted to wait, but I’m just very curious about certain things,” Aryana spoke with a bright smile tugging at her lips as she walked over to the table in the room. She placed her hands down against it leaning a little forwards as her gaze met with his.
 
What had happened in the North was very unfortunate. The death of Rhea Rhyne surprised everyone, it made the camp turn upside down. Aeron didn’t grieve her death as much as he felt sad about the loss of alliance between the North and the East. It had been going so well until then. Aeron was sure that he and Lord Brynden Rhyne would be the ones to mend the wounds their ancestors had made so many years ago.

That had not come to be, for their plans had been ruined once the knife was plunged into the Lord’s sister. It wasn’t the Easterners fault, but rage and sadness had overcome the camp. They quickly turned against the foreigners, shunning them and blaming them for crimes they had no part in. They were just upset about losing Lady Rhea. Was it a good enough reason to treat them the way they were? It was childish, immature, but at the same time Aeron understood. Grief showed itself in many ways.

When Laena had died, Aeron had nearly lost himself. His wife was his true love, a woman unlike any other. Aeron had not known love like that before Laena, and never had he felt it like that again. He thought she had been a gift and a curse from the Gods themselves. So perfect and beautiful, kind and caring and yet she’d been taken away from him so young and in such a dreadful way.

At the same time, Laena’s death had given Aeron the greatest gift of all - a child. Laena had died bringing Aryana into this world, and Aeron thought he’d never stop grieving for his dear wife. He thought he’d never stop loving her, never forget her wonderful smile nor her kind words. Aryana made it easier for Aeron to deal with it, however. All of his energy and love went into making sure that Aryana would grow into a beautiful person, and Aeron was glad to see that it had happened.

It had been hard, sometimes. Though Aeron wasn’t an important player in the game, he still had enough things to worry about as Lord Faerson. His days were busy, as were his nights, but still he tried to find time for Aryana. Especially when she was younger, Aeron would make sure that she knew that her father loved her and that the absence of her mother wouldn’t be that noticeable. He hoped that he had succeeded.

There was no doubt in Aeron’s mind that he had done the best he could when it came to Aryana. It wasn’t easy for him to raise a daughter and often times he wasn’t quite sure what to do. In the end, Aeron managed though. No matter how awkward it sometimes got, Aeron was always there for Aryana when she needed him, even if she was dealing with things he didn’t quite understand.

In Aeron’s eyes, Aryana had grown from a child into a beautiful, smart and kind woman. Though she didn’t quite look like her mother, the way she acted was similar to Laena. Aeron couldn’t help but notice little similarities in Aryana’s personality that reminded him of her mother. He tried to tell Aryana as much as he could remember of Laena, so that she would know that her mother was a sweet soul. It was such a shame that Laena wasn’t there to see her child grow into such a wonderful person.

There was no doubt in Aeron’s mind that Aryana would be easy to marry off. It was a strange thought, but it was something he’d have to deal with eventually. The only thing that bothered him was that the betrothal to Lord Brynden had fallen through. He had been a good option, Aeron had thought he was a good man. Well, he was a good man still in Aeron’s eyes, but it seemed that him and Aryana weren’t meant to be. Perhaps if the situation had been different…

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Aeron raised his eyes from the letter that he’d been not so carefully reading. It was interesting as it spoke of the fate of Queen Katlyn, but Aeron couldn’t find it in him to concentrate on it. His mind had been so prone to wandering the last few weeks, it was hard to focus on things such as letters or books, no matter how riveting they were.

“Father?”

And how could he focus if he could speak to Aryana instead? Admittedly, Aeron often neglected his work to spend time with her. She was more important than anything else to him, he couldn’t say no to a chance to spend time with her. Aryana was his only child, the light of his life and the reason he found it easy to get up in the morning. Without her, Gods, Aeron wouldn’t know what he’d do.

“Aryana,” Aeron smiled as he set the letter down on his desk.

“My apologies if I'm bothering you father, I wanted to wait, but I’m just very curious about certain things.”

Aryana leant against the table and the smile on her lips would always soften Aeron’s heart. How could she ever bother him? No, a daughter should never be a bother to her father.

“Of course. Sit down, if you’d like,” Aeron said, gesturing towards one of the chairs near his desk, “what is it you want to talk about?”

Aryana sat before speaking again, "I want to talk about the Northerners and Lord Brynden."

It wasn’t exactly the topic Aeron would like to hang onto for long, but he figured that they’d have to speak of it eventually. After all, Aryana had been under the thought that she’d marry Lord Brynden. Though they’d talked about it, they never really went into the details. Perhaps that had been a mistake on his part.

“Oh?” Aeron raised an eyebrow as he leant back in his chair a little while his eyes kept their gaze on Aryana’s, “alright. I assume neither of us are very happy with how things ended with the Northerners. I must admit I was rather fond of the deal that Lord Brynden and I had made together.”

 
It should have been rather easy for Aryana to not want to speak about Lord Brynden or the Northerners. There was nothing they could do about it now, and there was nothing Aryana wanted to do with it, but still she found herself so curious to everything. What the plan had really been? What would have happened? What would happen now? All those questions, and there was only one person she could ask. Her father. He was the only one who knew since he had been the one to plan everything with Lord Brynden.

“Of course. Sit down, if you’d like. What is it you want to talk about?”

Aryana moved away from the table, turning towards the chair instead only to pull it out and sit down. If there was one person she truly trusted it was her father, but she also knew she had to be more respectful around him. Aryana would have liked to tell him about the things she had gotten to know about Lord Brynden, what he did at night instead of putting in an effort to get to know her, and how terrible that had made her feel.

That wouldn’t be a smart thing of her to do. She didn’t want to completely destroy Lord Brynden’s reputation, or whatever her father might have thought about him. The Lord didn’t deserve that just because she felt like he hadn’t treated her like she had wanted him to treat her. She had wanted him to treat her like his future wife. Though in the end she hadn’t been able to treat him like his future husband either.

"I want to talk about the Northerners and Lord Brynden."

“Oh? Alright. I assume neither of us are very happy with how things ended with the Northerners. I must admit I was rather fond of the deal that Lord Brynden and I had made together.”

“Would you mind if I ask why you wanted me to marry Lord Brynden?”

Her father was somewhat right. Aryana wasn’t happy about how things had ended with the Northerners purely because of what they had done to Sir Darron and the rest of the men. Though she wasn’t upset about the marriage being off. She didn’t miss Lord Brynden. The only person she truly missed was Antra. She had been Aryana’s only friend at camp, and a good friend as well.

"Well... I truly decided on that when I met with Lord Brynden. I hope you know that I only want the best for you, Aryana, and I want your husband to be a good man. I believe I made a good judgement on what kind of person Lord Brynden is, what kind of husband he'd be to you. I still think you would make a good match. Additionally, marrying into House Rhyne obviously means that you'd be well off for the rest of your life."

“Perhaps you’re right, but I didn’t get that impression.”

"Why's that?"

Aryana figured again that she would have to choose her words carefully. It sounded like her father was fond of Lord Brynden. That he would be a good man to Aryana even if she didn’t believe he would, but in the end Lord Brynden hadn’t exactly done anything to intentionally hurt her. Not that she felt hurt either way, just disappointed with how things had gone with the Northerners.

“I never got to know him. We barely spoke to each other. I suppose he is a very busy Lord.”

"Aryana... he's at war with the King. I can't say I'm very pleased with the fact that he didn't find time for you, but I'm not exactly surprised."

The urge to tell him that he had time for other women laid there at the tip of her tongue, but instead Aryana tore her eyes away from him and looked down at her hands that laid flat against her lap. She knew he was right, and she wanted to understand that he was a busy man with a war awaiting him, and it wasn’t just a war against anyone, but the King himself. Gods, she was foolish, but at the same time she had expected just a little bit more.

“He had time for other activities,” Aryana mumbled, so quietly almost like she didn’t want him to hear her.

"Other activities?"

“Yes, father, other activities. Lord Brynden had time for other activities, other women, whores. I mean, other activities,” Aryana said as she fumbled with her words, wanting to sink through the chair and not meet her father’s gaze ever again. Gods, she felt so embarrassed. She raised one hand to place over her forehead as she let out a deep sigh, wondering if this would change anything though it likely wouldn’t.

Her father chuckled then, "well, these other activities are rather popular amongst men during war. I think it'd be rare for you to find a man at that camp who wouldn't partake in that."

Aryana wanted to tell him how she truly felt about it, but maybe her father wouldn’t understand. He was a man, and even before she got to speak again he spoke, "how did you find out about that?"

“His sister told me, and I asked him about it before we left. I understand that men are like that, father. I was to be his wife, and he didn’t have time to say a word to me, but he had time for that. Am I not allowed to feel disappointed?” Aryana asked as she finally found the courage to meet his gaze again.

"Lady Rhea? Interesting. Of course it's disappointing. I can see why you're upset about it. Does it really matter anymore, though?"

“No, it doesn’t. What was the plan with Lord Brynden?”

It didn’t matter anymore since they wouldn’t be married, and Aryana felt some what relived that she had managed to open up to her father about what had bothered her with Lord Brynden, but he was right. It didn’t matter.
 
“Would you mind if I ask why you wanted me to marry Lord Brynden?”

It hadn’t been his initial plan while arriving at camp. Aeron still wasn’t quite sure about marrying Aryana to anyone, much less a man he didn’t know. Granted, Aeron was considering it heavily. When the Faersons arrived at camp though, he wasn’t sure which brother to pick, nor if he’d pick one at all. After he spoke with Lord Brynden, though, Aeron had made up his mind and he hadn’t regretted it since. The more Aeron spoke with Lord Brynden, the more sure he was that he’d made the right decision.

Aeron thought about it a second more, before he began speaking, “well... I truly decided on that when I met with Lord Brynden. I hope you know that I only want the best for you, Aryana, and I want your husband to be a good man. I believe I made a good judgement on what kind of person Lord Brynden is, what kind of husband he'd be to you. I still think you would make a good match. Additionally, marrying into House Rhyne obviously means that you'd be well off for the rest of your life."

“Perhaps you’re right, but I didn’t get that impression.”

"Why's that?"

It was almost surprising to him. Aeron was rather font of Lord Brynden, admittedly, and he had looked forwards to call him his son-in-law. He seemed like a good man, with a good heart and with set goals in mind. Their conversations together had been pleasant as well, and Aeron had found out a bit more about Lord Brynden as a person that way. In his eyes, he seemed like a proper match to Aryana. Why wasn’t that the case for Aryana herself? Aeron didn’t want to think that he’d made a mistake.

“I never got to know him. We barely spoke to each other. I suppose he is a very busy Lord.”

Busy was an understatement. Aeron knew just how much time and work went into the planning of the war. Well, obviously, since he’d been a part of it. He knew just how much energy and work Lord Brynden put into it, and he knew that there wasn’t that much time left to spare. It was a shame that Brynden didn’t find time for Aryana, as Aeron had hoped, but it wasn’t unexpected.

"Aryana... he's at war with the King. I can't say I'm very pleased with the fact that he didn't find time for you, but I'm not exactly surprised."

“He had time for other activities,” Aryana mumbled, so quiet that Aeron had to lean towards her a bit to hear her properly.

"Other activities?"

“Yes, father, other activities. Lord Brynden had time for other activities, other women, whores. I mean, other activities,” Aryana said, raising her hand to her forehead.

Aeron understood her frustrations, and at the same time her tone of voice and the topic made him chuckle, "well, these other activities are rather popular amongst men during war. I think it'd be rare for you to find a man at that camp who wouldn't partake in that."

It was likely that Aryana didn’t understand just how men worked. War made their blood boil, and nothing soothed that quite like a woman. Aeron wasn’t that type of man, but he knew that many were. It was just a simple need, something men craved like food. It was a need that was easy to make a habit out of. It didn’t exactly make Aeron happy, but what could he do?

At the same time, Aeron wondered about something else, "how did you find out about that?"

“His sister told me, and I asked him about it before we left. I understand that men are like that, father. I was to be his wife, and he didn’t have time to say a word to me, but he had time for that. Am I not allowed to feel disappointed?”

"Lady Rhea? Interesting,” Aeron admitted to himself before continued, “of course it's disappointing. I can see why you're upset about it. Does it really matter anymore, though?"

“No, it doesn’t. What was the plan with Lord Brynden?”

“The plan?” Aeron raised an eyebrow.

"After the war."

Aeron sighed and shrugged, “well, you’d marry Lord Brynden. You would become Lady Aryana of House Rhyne, rule the North with him. I was quite fond of that plan. You would’ve fit into that role quite well, I imagine.”

"What about you, father?"

Though Aeron liked to say that he wasn’t a selfish man, he had been excited for what the plan had in store for him. House Faerson would rise from the ashes and rule the East as it was supposed to be ruled. They would replace House Furrow, a house that had fallen from its glory many years ago. It had been a nice thought, imagining himself with a new title by his name. But would it have been as sweet as Aeron imagined? Perhaps it was better this way.

“Does it matter?”

"Am I not allowed to wonder what would have happened?"

Aeron chuckled at that and shook his head, “you know I have no secrets from you. We would’ve ruled the East then. House Faerson, not House Furrow.”
 
“You know I have no secrets from you. We would’ve ruled the East then. House Faerson, not House Furrow.”

There was something a little upsetting about the fact that House Faerson wouldn’t rule the East. Aryana felt sorry for her father that his plan hadn’t worked. The East would have been a much better place then. She knew her father was a good man who would have made the East prosper unlike it was now.

When it came to politics, Aryana wasn’t completely clueless. It wasn’t difficult to see that the East was struggling, or that certain regions of the East were being hit by extreme poverty.

Because of what had happened in the North, the East would likely never get out of the conditions House Furrow had brought upon them. It was such a shame, and Aryana didn’t know if she should have felt guilty for anything. Perhaps she should have tried harder with Lord Brynden. If they had been closer, maybe Lord Brynden would have thought more carefully about imprisoning Sir Darron and letting his own men abuse the Easterners.

Aryana knew that it likely wouldn’t have changed a thing. Everything had pointed towards Sir Darron being the guilty one without anyone thinking twice about it. The Northerners were foolish.

“I would have liked that. The East deserves better than House Furrow.”

"Yes, it does deserve better, I agree. Not to talk down on House Furrow, but they've truly ruined the East over the last years. It's embarrassing."

“What do you want to do now then since we’re no longer with the Northerners?”

"Well, in a way we still are with the Northerners. We stand behind their cause. We will bend the knee if anyone from House Rhyne ascends to the Throne. I suppose for now we can just sit back and watch what happens."

It didn’t make much sense to her why they would stand behind the Northerners, but Aryana imagined that was just because she had gotten such a strange impression of Lord Brynden and his men after everything that had happened. Of course she wanted to support Antra, and it was purely because of her that Aryana felt comfortable with her father still being with the Northerners in a way.

“Will we be safe during the war?”

"Of course. Don't worry about that, dear."

There was a comforting smile on her father’s face, and Aryana knew she wouldn’t have to worry about the war. At least they wouldn’t be in the middle of it anymore. Then her father wouldn’t have been able to guarantee her safety, but she would have stayed at camp with Antra either way and never truly be in the middle of a battle. She wondered what it was like for those who had to fight for their lives.

“What about me now? What is the plan for me?”

Aryana was asking a lot of questions, but it was difficult not to let her mind wander about what could have been and what would be. Gods, her poor father who she likely bothered with the number of questions she was asking, but they hadn’t talked about such things in a long time. The journey had gotten the better of her, and it was only now she found herself wanting to know certain things about her father’s plan.

"As of right now, I don't know. Obviously you're going to marry someone. When I find them, I'll let you know."

The only thing Aryana was truly worried about was that her father would rush it again. It felt rushed with Lord Brynden. She had expected that she would have gotten to know before they left Stormwind that she would be his wife one day, but it had all happened so quickly. Hopefully, that wouldn’t happen again, and she hoped she would have something to say in it this time around. Though it was her father’s choice and even if she did trust him, she wanted to be able to choose her husband as well. Perhaps that was irrational of her to think.

While she thought about his words, her gaze wandered around in the room. Many times had she come to him while he would be busy with something. When she had been a child everything in his study had been so exciting to her. A few times she had snuck into her father's study without him being there just to look at everything he had, and use his belongings as toys for her to play with.

Aryana smiled at those memories and how good her father had been to her. It was impossible to be mad at him or upset with him over what had happened between her and Lord Brynden. It wasn’t her father’s fault.

“I suppose I am okay with that. Just promise me you will find someone good.”

"Of course, Aryana. I only want the best for you."

Deep down she knew that very well, and they had just been very unlucky about the situation with the Northerners. Aryana was just relieved she didn’t have to worry about it anymore. The war and the Northerners weren’t their responsibility now, and all they had to worry about was probably how to stay safe during the war. Aryana looked back at her father then, and she still had a sweet smile on her lips as their gaze met. Truly she couldn’t have asked for a better father. She was incredibly lucky.

“Do you miss her?” Aryana asked, referring to her mother who they hadn’t talked about for a while now.
 
Speaking to Aryana about this made Aeron want to try harder when finding her next match. He couldn’t get her Lord Brynden Rhyne, but he’d get her someone better. Perhaps Aeron wouldn’t get that much out of the deal regarding resources, but that wouldn’t matter if Aryana would be happy with her match. He wanted her to love her husband and he wanted her husband to love her. All Aeron wanted was for his daughter to be happy.

It wasn’t smart from a political view, he supposed, but Aeron was much more interested in his family’s happiness rather than politics. He would never sacrifice Aryana’s happiness to get something for himself. Even if he could replace House Furrow with House Faerson, he wouldn’t marry Aryana away to a husband who wouldn’t treat her right.

Though Aryana didn’t see Lord Brynden as a good match, Aeron still did. He wasn’t happy with what had happened between them or, more specifically, what hadn’t happened. Aeron wanted to say that he was a good judge of character, and nothing about Lord Brynden had ever made him think that he’d made the wrong choice. It was a shame that it fell through, he had been sure that Aryana would’ve been happy with the match. Perhaps a better man would come in his place, at least Aeron hoped.

All Aeron hoped was that he hadn’t made the wrong decision by leaving the camp. The Northerners and their behavior was unacceptable, though, especially after what had happened to Sir Darron. Aeron didn’t feel safe there and most of all he didn’t think it was safe for Aryana. He didn’t want to pull out of the deal, but there really was no other choice after the treatment they had gotten.

“Do you miss her?”

Aeron raised an eyebrow and looked at his daughter, “her?”

"My mother."

That Aeron should’ve guessed from the start. He watched Aryana for a bit as he thought about it. Of course he missed her. Not a day went by when his mind didn’t drift to Laena. Was that bad? Aeron wasn’t sure. Even if it was bad of him to still think of someone gone for so long, he didn’t really care.

“Every day.”

"I'm sorry."

“You’re sorry? Sorry about what, Aryana?”

"For bringing her up."

Aeron chuckled at that and shook his head a little. There was nothing Aryana should apologise for. Especially not bringing up her mother. It didn’t really hurt Aeron to talk about her. Not anymore at least, he had grown used to the idea that Laena was gone. In fact, talking about her made everything a bit easier. He liked telling Aryana about her mother, he wanted her to know about her so that at least her memory would live on.

“Don’t be sorry about that. I’m not upset, if that’s what you’re afraid of. If you want us to talk about your mother, I would gladly do so.”

"Tell me more about her."

No words Aeron would say would do Laena justice. In his mind, she’d forever be the most wonderful person that had graced Aedighar with their presence. Gods had Aeron loved her. So many years later he still loved her, he knew that.

“Of course. What would you like to hear? I can’t recall what we’ve talked about already and what not,” Aeron said with a gentle smile.

"Do I remind you of her in any way?"

“You do,” Aeron nodded, “Laena -- your mother, she was a wonderful person. Just like you, she was kind and sweet. At the same time, she was never afraid to tell me when I made a mistake. Your personalities are so similar to one another, it surprised me when I first noticed it.”

It seemed his words had made Aryana happy, which made Aeron happy. He loved to see her smile, it would always brighten his day. Sometimes he wondered if he loved her too much, in fact. Would he truly be able to let her go when the time came? It was so hard to imagine the castle without Aryana’s smile, Aeron thought life would be awfully dull without her here.

"When did you two know that you loved each other?"

Aeron chuckled a little and shrugged his shoulders, “I knew it when we had our first fight. It was sometime after our marriage, we were fighting about something. I think it was her mother, honestly, you were born after she died… Gods, I loved Laena but her mother was a dreadful woman. I didn’t want her here, Laena disagreed, we fought and she said that her mother would leave Stormwind, but so would she.”

“When Laena left the room, I was still too angry, immature and upset to really run after her. I spent a few hours alone and then I realised that this wasn’t what I wanted. Even those few hours without her had felt so empty, what would I do if she’d truly leave Stormwind? It was obvious to me it was love, obvious that I had fallen for her, grown attached to her. Only when I had to face the chance of losing her, did I realise how much I needed her.”

“As for your mother… she always said she fell in love with me the first time she saw me, but that’s a lie,” Aeron laughed, as he remembered their younger days, ”I was so annoying at that age, it’s a miracle she didn’t run away from me. Perhaps Laena realised she loved me that same day I did. She had never left the castle, you see, she told me later that the will to do that had left her once she stepped out of our room. Something inside of her didn't let her leave Stormwind, leave me.”
 
It didn’t make Aryana upset to hear about her mother. If anything it made her happy as it only made her feel closer to her. She had never spoken to her, never seen her the way her father had. That should have made her sad, but it didn’t anymore. The idea she had of her mother in her head was a nice and kind one because of what her father had told her over the years. There was nothing sad about that, but perhaps that was so since Aryana hadn’t experienced her death up close like her father had, but it didn’t seem like he was upset over it either.

Of course Aryana wished she would have gotten to meet her mother, but in a way, it felt like she was there with her through her father since he was so open to talk about it. Gods, it must have been difficult for him, and Aryana admired his strength. She knew he was the one to thank for the person she had become, and how wonderful her childhood had been even without a motherly figure present.

Their love sounded so pure and real, and Aryana thought her father was a lucky man who had found such love in her mother. Wasn’t it rare for two people to connect in that way?

To her it was foreign and strange, something she had never truly experienced before. There had been certain times she had felt a tingling sensation in her abdomen after speaking to different men in the castle, but it wasn’t love. It had just been a small sense of attraction towards those men, and truly Aryana had no idea what love felt like.

Love was something she expected she would have to learn one day, and she had thought she would learn to love with Lord Brynden. Now she would have to learn to love someone else, or perhaps she would be lucky and find love another way. Aryana was uncertain what exactly that would be like, and she was curious. She couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be so deeply connected with a person to the point where even a bad fight couldn’t break them apart. It must have been wonderful for her parents to share a love so strong for each other.

Aryana sat there with her gaze locked on her father, but she felt as she was getting lost in her own thoughts. Slowly his words became fainter, and then everything around her seemed so blurry. All she could think about was what exactly love would be for her. She loved her father, and she loved Antra, but that was also different from what type of love her fathered had described he had for her mother.

It sounded almost too good to be true. Aryana’s gaze unwillingly traveled away from her father as she thought about that. Gods, it was complicated, and she was already growing anxious about having to marry now. She fumbled with her own fingers, playing with the fabric of her dress as her mind wandered. Would it be nice to have someone love and cherish her? She imagined it would be, but it was also difficult to imagine at the same time.

Aryana furrowed her eyebrows, escaping her own thoughts as she looked back at her father, “does love make you weak?”

"Quite the opposite, I think."

“So you believe it makes us stronger?”

"Yes. Love is a powerful force, Aryana, much more powerful than hate could ever be. It gives us a meaning, something to fight for, it's a very good motivator to keep going. Why do you ask?"

“Love just sounds so strange.”

The frown on her face had faded now, and yet again she found herself smiling at her father. His words were so reassuring, though it also made her wonder even more what it would be like to truly love a person. It sounded quite romantic, but also dangerous. Though she found great comfort in his words that love was meaningful.

"It is strange. I won't deny that. But I do hope you find it one day. It's the most wonderful thing in the world to love and be loved."

“I hope so too, father. It sounds wonderful. I’m glad you got to share that love with my mother.”

"I'm glad as well. I truly hope you and your future husband will be as happy as we were once."

That was something Aryana hoped for too, but she knew better than to get overly excited or anxious about those things. For now, she would settle down in Stormwind and feel at home again. There was no rush, no need to be frightened or anything. Her father had comforted her, and Aryana felt at ease now that her questions were answered. Though she imagined over the next few days, she would have many more questions to ask him. Luckily her father always seemed to be so welcoming whenever she came to talk to him.

It would have been something completely different if he wasn’t such a kind father to her.

“I should leave. You’re probably very busy,” Aryana smiled.

"I can always make some time for you."

“Thank you, father. You’re so kind.”

"I'm just trying to be a good parent."

Aryana rose from the chair then. Before leaving she walked over to him, leaning down to press a kiss against his cheek. She smiled as he did the same, and reached down for his hand to give it a gentle, but quick squeeze. Then she pulled away, turning to walk towards the door, but she stopped to tell him that she loved him very much before actually leaving. She wanted him to know and remember that, and Aryana did tell him that quite often. That would be the things she would miss the most if she ever had to leave him and Stormwind again.
 
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A Shoulder To Lean On.
Chapter LIII
House Hastwyck
Sow knowledge, reap wisdom.
Santrella, Southern lands of Aedighar
​
Weeks had passed and yet the stench of blood seemed to follow Arthor wherever he went. Nobody else could ever feel it, but he did. It haunted him still, even after everything. Even after leaving the shithole that was Wheldrake. Part of Arthor had hoped that once he’d step out of the gates of the city, the memories would stay behind those walls. Still they lingered, and he wondered if they’d ever fade.

The fact that Arthor had to sit or lay in a carriage for most of the days and nights certainly didn’t help one bit. He was stuck with either the Maester or himself for the whole day. It left him silent and suffocating in his own thoughts. It was dreadful, and it upset him more than he wanted to admit. All he wanted was Leanah by his side, but Arthor never explicitly asked for her - if she’d decide to spend some time with him, then so be it, but he wouldn’t force her to come.

Never before had Arthor felt so truly pathetic as he did now. He couldn’t even fucking ride a horse. What good was he if he couldn’t do that? Ride, that was a challenge. Even walking alone was fucking impossible.

Stubbornly, Arthor had tried to walk that day when they left Wheldrake. Well, he didn’t even really get to the walking part, the furthest he got was just attempting to get out of bed. It didn’t quite go so well and he must’ve ripped open the stitches in his stomach or done something similar from his harsh movements, because the next time he opened his eyes he was laying in that damned carriage. Everything hurt when he woke and the Maester dulled the pain for him with milk of the poppy.

It upset Arthor how useless he was. He didn’t know how to sit still and do nothing, it wasn’t in his nature. It made him feel worse than he already did, which was almost impossible. It didn’t really get better when Arthor finally dared to ask the Maester if he’d be alright. The Maester said he wasn’t sure, he told Arthor that he might get back to how he used to be but it was possible that his knee might cause some problems still. That wasn’t the answer Arthor had hoped to hear, and he wondered if the Maester had lied and the reality was even worse.

What if Arthor would never be able to fight again? He was afraid that he wouldn’t get back to his usual shape, and that he’d lose his position as Lady Carlys’ sworn shield. Would he have to leave the castle then? Perhaps he could stay, train the new knights? Arthor liked to train them as it was, it was what he usually got up to during the day. What if he wouldn’t even be able to do that?

When the Maester first asked him to move his leg, Arthor was petrified. He wanted to test it out, to see if he could move it at all, but he just couldn’t get himself to do it. What if it wouldn’t work? What if he’d have to face the reality that his leg was fucked up for life?

Perhaps Arthor should stop thinking mean words about the Maester, because the man had successfully calmed him down somehow. Arthor didn’t recall the words he’d said, but it had made him feel a bit more confident about himself. Though when Arthor moved his leg, he was surprised at how painful and stiff each movement felt. It almost was as though his leg was made from steel and he was unsuccessfully trying to bend it.

It didn’t really get any easier in the next few days. Arthor wanted to see improvement straight away, but the Maester had to remind him that that wouldn’t happen. That wasn’t how injuries healed, and he had to accept that. The Maester also had to tell Arthor that he had other injuries and that, even if he could, walking for too much wouldn’t be good for him anyways.

That’s why Arthor ended up stuck in his carriage most of the day, or in an inn room if they stopped there. For a few minutes a day, Arthor would try to move his leg. Sometimes he even dared to try and put his weight on it. Most of the time that didn’t really go that well and Arthor would just fall back, panting from the pain it had caused him. Though Arthor felt a bit awkward about it, Leanah helped him when it came to walking. Whenever he had to go somewhere, he’d lean just slightly against her shoulder, trying to focus his weight on his right leg.

The Maester had suggested crutches. The thought alone made Arthor feel sick to his stomach. He was much too stubborn to use crutches, it would hurt his pride to do that. Then again, holding onto Leanah’s shoulder also wasn’t exactly the best idea, but Arthor always tried to make sure that nobody was looking when he did that. Leanah could see how bad he truly was, but nobody else should.

Whenever the Maester asked, Arthor would just tell him that he was fine. Even when he was pain, he told him that everything was alright, because the thought of the milk of the poppy came more unbearable with each time the Maester forced it down his throat. It killed the pain, but it also made Arthor sleep and he hated his dreams lately. There was so much blood… when Arthor woke he would always have to check that he was safe because the stench of iron followed him from dreams into reality.

Tonight they’d sleep in an inn again. Arthor tried not to look too happy, but an inn meant that he wouldn’t have to be in the carriage. It always moved around, making his stomach and head ache more than usual. An inn was still, and Arthor could just relax. Maybe he could even get himself a bath made, but Arthor quickly thought better of it when he thought that getting in and out of it would be a challenge to say the least.

The Black Cat was an inn they’d stopped in on their journey to Wheldrake as well. It was nice and quiet, and Arthor had liked it. The innkeeper was a nice woman as well, and she’d even offered to let them stay for free when Lady Carlys introduced herself. Of course, the Lady refused that and paid double, but it was a nice gesture from the innkeeper nonetheless.

All Arthor hoped for now was a warm meal, maybe some wine and a warm bed to sleep in. He hoped that Leanah would offer him some company as well. Though Arthor didn’t want to admit it, he only felt safe and good when Leanah was around. Without her, he was alone and pathetic, but with her Arthor could almost remember how he used to feel.
 
They were finally going back to Santrella. Their journey to Wheldrake had been nothing like Leanah had expected. It had been way worse, and she strongly believed that she would never return there. They were done with the trials. The Queen was dead, and Arthor was hopefully going to get better with time. Leanah still found herself praying to the Gods that they would be kind to Arthor, that they would help him heal so he could walk on his own two feet again. She prayed that he would be spared the horrors of living with guilt for the rest of his life.

After years of being his friend, Leanah saw that Arthor hadn’t been doing well. They hadn’t talked about what was on his mind, and she would just subtly ask about it from time to time. Either way she wasn’t stupid, and she remembered his reaction when she had told him he had won the combat against the Kingsguard. There had to be something on his mind, but Leanah wanted to let him get better before she started asking again.

Now all she wanted was to make him smile.

Leanah tried her best to put all her worries aside for Arthor. Whenever she went to sit in the carriage with him, she would focus on things that would hopefully wouldn’t remind him of what had happened in Wheldrake. Instead, she would talk about some interesting stories or her opinion about the people they had met whenever they had stopped at different inn’s to stay the night. Those were the usual things they would talk about back in Santrella.

It seemed like it did help Arthor a little to speak about other things than pain, blood, and Wheldrake. Leanah imagined that he still struggled, but she didn’t give up on Arthor. Every day she would come to speak to him, whether they were in a carriage or somewhere in a small village didn’t matter to her. She always came to him to give him some of her company. The journey back was also a lot easier with his company.

Over the last few days, it had gotten a little easier for Leanah to fall asleep at night. There were only a few times she would wake up and wonder if Arthor was okay, but she knew better than to bother him in the middle of the night. Just incase he was asleep, Leanah didn’t want to wake him up and therefore only went to see him during the mornings or afternoons. Sometimes she would stay with him until the evening, but not that often anymore.

When they had arrived at the inn they were staying at, Leanah had let herself settle down before even leaving the room she would be staying it. There was a rotten stench in the room. The walls were dull and cracking in certain places, but Leanah had opened the window in the room to let some fresh air in to hopefully drive out the smell of whatever it was that had died in there.

Perhaps it was a dead rat, but she didn’t bother looking for it behind all the furniture.

A part of her wanted to ask Arthor if she could stay in his room instead, but what if he wouldn’t let her. She had already stayed so much with him in Wheldrake that it felt unnecessary to keep doing so. It was important that Arthor got the privacy he needed. She would talk to her mother later about the smell as she didn’t dare to talk to the kind innkeeper herself in fear that Leanah would hurt her feelings.

Leanah had left her room soon after opening the window. Soon she would have to get something to eat, but first, she made her way down the small hallway filled with doors that led to different rooms. She didn’t stop until she reached Arthor’s room, and she raised her hand to knock on his door. Usually she would have walked in before any answer, but suddenly Leanah was respecting Arthor’s need to be alone.

Not until she heard Arthor’s voice did she open the door her gaze finding his almost immediately as she took a careful step into the room.

“Hi,” Leanah said, smiling as she took another step away from the door to close it.

There was a cup of wine in his hand, but Leanah decided to ignore it as she walked over to the window in his room to open that as well. Some fresh air wouldn’t hurt him even if he was lucky since it didn’t smell like rotten flesh in his room. Maybe she could offer to take him outside. The village was rather small, but there had to be something for them to do unless Arthor wanted to stay in bed all day. Perhaps he was tired.

“Hi.”

“I see you already found some wine,” she chuckled, making her way over to his bed to carefully sit down onto the mattress.

"Am I not allowed to drink?"

“Of course you are. I’m not going to stop you even if I would have preferred it to be water instead of wine in that cup.”

"Why? What's wrong with wine?"

Leanah chuckled as she shook her head slightly. There was nothing wrong with wine, but wine had caused them a lot of trouble. Not only that, but she didn’t want Arthor to be so heavily dependent on wine. That wasn’t good, but she didn’t want to be that type of friend at that moment. If he wanted to drink, he could. As long as he was feeling better, which it looked like since he slight smile tugging at his lips.

“There’s nothing wrong with wine, but there’s nothing wrong with water either.”

"Disagree. Water can go bad with time, wine can only get better."

“If you say so, Arthor,” Leanah said, slightly mocking him, “either way, I was wondering if you wanted to go outside? Or do you want to stay here?”
 
Stairs were a nightmare. The Maester had helped him somewhat, while Arthor desperately gripped onto the bannister. He was really just jumping one step at a time with his right leg, otherwise he probably would’ve just stayed on the ground floor. Was it so hard to have rooms on the first floor?

The second the stairs came to an end, Arthor told the Maester to leave. He managed fine on his own by holding onto the wall for support and, once again, relying on his right leg to make it to his room. Out of pure exhaustion, Arthor fell into his bed and stayed like that for a while before laying on his stomach became unbearable.

It seemed like the right time to do so as well, because just as he sat up on his bed a girl knocked on his door and poked her head in. She must’ve been around five-and-ten or so, and Arthor figured that she was the innkeeper’s daughter. Maybe even granddaughter.

When the girl asked if Arthor needed anything, he immediately asked her to get him some wine. He didn’t want to eat, his appetite had lessened noticeably ever since the injuries. Arthor thought he had thinned out a bit already, but he hadn’t really had a chance to truly look at himself, so he couldn’t say for sure. When the girl came back with a pitcher and a cup, Arthor guessed that that was how his night would go. He hadn’t gotten drunk in a while, and now it seemed like a perfect idea.

The wine was watery and almost tasted a bit too sour to Arthor, but he wasn’t picky. He’d take what he could get. In the end, it would still get to his head. At least that’s what he hoped. Not that he particularly enjoyed being drunk alone, but now that was his only option. Arthor didn’t want to be with his thoughts. Not tonight.

Before Arthor could get even halfway through his cup, another knock came to his door. He figured that it was the girl again, and he told he to come in. Perhaps she’d brought him food that he hadn’t asked for, as the innkeeper seemed to be eager to please her prestigious guests. Instead of the girl, though, Leanah came into his room with a smile and a greeting. Arthor watched Leanah walk across the room and open the window for him. He’d wanted to do it, because the room had a musty smell to it, but after he had fallen into his bed he thought he wouldn’t be able to get up.

“I see you already found some wine,” Leanah chuckled as she sat down on his bed.

"Am I not allowed to drink?"

“Of course you are. I’m not going to stop you even if I would have preferred it to be water instead of wine in that cup.”

"Why? What's wrong with wine?"

There was a small smile tugging at his lips, and he wasn’t sure why that was so. Arthor was happy to see Leanah, happy to know that he wouldn’t be alone for the evening. It calmed him down, and now that he had both wine and Leanah, Arthor almost wondered if his mind would be at ease for the next few hours. He hoped so, he needed a break from himself.

“There’s nothing wrong with wine, but there’s nothing wrong with water either.”

"Disagree. Water can go bad with time, wine can only get better."

“If you say so, Arthor,” Leanah said, “either way, I was wondering if you wanted to go outside? Or do you want to stay here?”

His mood soured at the thought of facing those damned stairs again. Arthor imagined that going down would only be worse. Additionally, Leanah would have to see that and that sounded about as wonderful as getting stabbed again. She had helped him around before, but this would most certainly end up with Arthor making a fool of himself. Almost as to cope with the shame already, Arthor drank his wine cup almost empty before answering.

“Outside? I’d have to walk. At the moment, I’m not exactly good at that,” Arthor mumbled into his cup before taking another sip.

"I could help you."

“It’ll hurt,” Arthor said quietly as his hand absentmindedly touched his left thigh.

Though the Maester asked him to, Arthor had not really walked around that much on it, always making excuses and finding ways to rest. Arthor had no interest in admitting that he couldn’t really walk for too long, since it hurt and tired him too much. It was embarrassing, and he didn’t want to show Leanah how weak he was, though he’d already done it enough times in the past few weeks.

"We don't have to do it if you don't want to, Arthor. I thought it would be nice for you, perhaps even good for you."

Mostly Arthor just wanted to lay here and get drunk, but he didn’t want to disappoint Leanah. He was stubborn at heart and he wanted to show her that he was alright, even though he really wasn’t. Not yet at least. It would be embarrassing and Arthor would regret it later perhaps, but at the same time he wanted to make her happy. He figured that doing this might do just that, so hesitantly he nodded his head.

Before Arthor got up, he leant his head back and finished his cup of wine. At least some liquid courage would do him good. First Arthor moved his right foot on the ground. Though he could bend it slightly, Arthor still stiffly dragged the left one to the edge of the bed before getting up slowly. He leant against the bedside table and leant his weight on that and on his right leg, while he tried not to move his other one too much.

“Where outside do you want to go, anyways? There’s not much here from what I saw,” Arthor said as nonchalant as possible, while carefully put some weight on his left leg before leaning back to the other side again after a sharp pain made him wince, “if we even make it to the door, that is.”

 
Soon enough the sun would be setting, and Leanah wanted to catch the sunset before it was too late. Some fresh air and moving around was also something she craved. During most of the journey, Leanah would sit in a carriage with nearly nothing to do. Her gaze would often wander around in the carriage, studying the fine details of the interior, but in the end, that got terribly boring. Whenever they stopped somewhere Leanah wanted to walk, see different things. She rarely traveled, and she wanted to make the most out of it.

“Outside? I’d have to walk. At the moment, I’m not exactly good at that.”

"I could help you."

“It’ll hurt.”

Leanah looked at Arthor’s hand as he touched his thigh. She let out a sigh wondering if it was just for the better if they stayed inside. That would have been nice as well even if she wanted to do something else with Arthor. She understood his pain, and that it pained him to move, but perhaps it was also good for him to move around and get used to walking again. She would help him, and be there for him, so he had someone to lean onto.

To her it wasn’t weird to be the person for Arthor to support himself onto. Perhaps it looked strange as he was supposed to protect her, but they were friends, good friends. Leanah would have done anything for Arthor. In her eyes, he deserved that as she could only seem to think about all the good things he had done for her. He had been her shoulder to lean onto when bad things had happened in her life. Now it was her turn to help him.

"We don't have to do it if you don't want to, Arthor. I thought it would be nice for you, perhaps even good for you."

As Arthor began moving, Leanah rose from the bed, watching him while he moved towards the edge of the mattress. Her heart ached seeing him in pain, but she was so determined to make it work. They would go outside, watch the sunset and perhaps find somewhere to sit down to watch it so Arthor wouldn’t have to stand.

“Where outside do you want to go, anyways? There’s not much here from what I saw,” Arthor said, “if we even make it to the door, that is.”

Leanah chuckled as she took a step closer to him to stand beside him. Her arm hooked under his arm, resting against his back as he guided his body to lean more towards hers. With her other hand, she brought his left arm to lay over her shoulder, taking his hand in hers. She glanced up at him with a reassuring smile on her face. Arthor didn’t have to worry about making it to the door. They would take it slow.

“We’re going to make it to the door.”

"You shouldn't be doing this."

In some way, Arthor was right that Leanah shouldn’t have been the one to guide him over to the door, but still, she did with slow steps so Arthor could find his balance. Leanah didn’t care about what was right of her to do or not, all she wanted was to help, and she wanted Arthor to let her help even if he thought she shouldn’t have been doing so. In the end, there was nothing truly wrong about it either.

“Does it matter? I just want to help.”

It took them a while to make it out of the room, but Leanah was patient with Arthor. Once they were out of the room, she let him take a little break before she started walking again, this time towards the stairs that she imagined would be the toughest part of getting outside, but Arthor could take his time. If it took them an hour to get down, then so be it. Leanah could catch the sunset another time in that case. What was most important to her was just to spend some time with Arthor, and show him how willing she was to help him.

Leanah stopped in front of the stairs, pulling away from Arthor so he would have to stand alone while she moved to stand in front of him.

“We will take it slow. Just go at the speed you’re most comfortable with, Arthor,” she reassured him as she took a step back to stand on the first step of the stairs.

To all the others staying at the inn, it must have looked incredibly strange as Leanah tried to help Arthor down the stairs. Arthor was mostly leaning onto the banister, but Leanah had taken one of his hands in hers just to feel like she was somewhat supporting him as they made their way down the stairs.

They took it slow as she didn’t want Arthor to fall or be in too much pain. If he lost his balance, Leanah wouldn’t be able to catch him, and most likely they would have both fallen down the stairs. That would have hurt them both, and she didn’t wish for Arthor to hurt himself more. While they did walk down the stairs, there were silent curses that Leanah barely heard coming from Arthor.

Leanah felt bad for him, but she decided not to stop since they had gotten so far already. It was better if they kept going as they had already gotten so far. She wondered why he hadn’t asked the Maester for crutches or anything else to help him get more comfortable with walking, but that was something else Leanah decided not to ask about. For as long as she could she would avoid talking about his pain or his injuries. It was easier to just avoid the topic in an attempt to make Arthor happy.

“That wasn’t so bad. I’m proud of you,” Leanah said as she went to stand beside him once they were standing on the first floor of the inn. Like earlier, she hooked her arm under his, but this time she gently stroked her hand against his back to soothe him. Now the worst part of getting outside was over.
 
The thoughts in his mind were conflicting. Part of Arthor wanted to just go back to his room, drink all night and lose himself. The part of him that was a whole lot more stubborn wanted to be better though, he wanted to make Leanah happy and he wanted to show her that he’d be alright. He knew she worried about him, and that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

Every bit of weight he put on his left leg stung, it felt like if he’d put too much on it it’d just break under him. There was no doubt that Arthor was afraid to walk properly, there was no way he could do that. His mind was just racing with thoughts of how he might fuck his leg up for good with one wrong move. It was terrifying, and if it’d happen Arthor would be useless.

Though Arthor didn’t quite want Leanah’s help because it made him feel ashamed, it was also comforting and motivating. It made Arthor want to try harder, try harder for Leanah. As much as he didn’t want to see him as vulnerable as he was at the moment, he knew that he needed Leanah or otherwise he’d just rot away in his bed. Leanah brought him joy, she gave him the strength that Arthor was missing when she was away. He wanted to do this for her.

Fuck it was hard, though. Every step was fucking exhausting and by the time they made it out of the room, Arthor was already tired. He had to take a second to calm down, and not think about how strange his own leg felt. Though Arthor tried not to lean too much against Leanah because he figured that she wouldn’t have anywhere near the strength to really keep him upright if need be. If Arthor would stumble and fall… well, that didn’t sound like fun for either of them.

The worst was yet to come though, and Arthor looked at the threatening stairs in front of them. It was as though it was a dragon and Arthor was a gallant knight that would have to fight it. It was like an unbelievably tough challenge that Arthor would have to go through to prove his worth. In reality, it was just some fucking stairs, but Arthor’s mind grew it out of proportion.

It was stupid really, and Arthor felt foolish as he stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them. He had made it up the stairs, he should be fine going down as well right? At the same time, going down the stairs seemed almost worse. At least there weren’t as many people down in the main room now as there were before. Arthor really didn’t want a big audience for this, it was already embarrassing and nerve wrecking enough.

“We will take it slow. Just go at the speed you’re most comfortable with, Arthor.”

While Arthor’s right hand gripped tightly onto the banister, Leanah took his left hand. Gods, he felt useless and weak. Leanah wasn’t supposed to do this, and here she was being the best friend a man could ask for. Arthor loved her with his whole heart, and he tried to think about her while his mind wanted to just quit there and then. He couldn’t quit, not when Leanah wanted him to succeed so badly. The thought that he might fall and hurt them both terrified Arthor, and he decided that he’d make sure not to fuck this up.

Agonizingly slow, Arthor made his way down the stairs. It was both easier and harder than he’d initially thought it’d be. Arthor felt bad that Leanah had to help him, had to waste her evening like this, but at the same time he selfishly appreciated her being there. Every once in awhile when he put too much weight on his leg, Arthor would squeeze her hand a bit too tight as a curse would leave his lips. Leanah should’ve left him, but she stayed.

In Arthor’s mind hours had passed before they finally reached the ground floor. Both of his legs were aching now - his left from the pain in his knee and the right one from the amount of work he put his muscles through. To add to that, it felt like the wound of his stomach was twitching as well from all the movement he was doing. Arthor sighed as he still held onto the banister as though he might fall at any moment and leant against it slightly as he looked down at the dusty floor below. At least he had made it this far, but the thought of having to go back up the stairs soon was absolutely dreadful. Alone, Arthor would never be able to manage it but with Leanah he wanted to try at least.

“That wasn’t so bad. I’m proud of you.”

That made the journey worth it. Arthor felt her arm move around his body again and her fingers stroke against his back, which reassured him somewhat. He moved his hand to rest on Leanah’s shoulder again as he looked over at her again. All Arthor hoped was that her words were true and she didn’t think any less of him after this.

"We didn't fall to our deaths. That's an accomplishment."

Leanah chuckled, "it is.”

All Arthor wanted to do now was sit down and have a drink. He longingly looked over at the men seated around the inn with their noses in cups of wine and ale. The one cup of wine hadn’t helped him much during the journey so far - Arthor was still stuck with a fuckload of anxiety. Asking Leanah whether or not he could have a drink seemed a bit foolish though, and he figured she might not really be into the idea anyways.

"I thought we would go see the sunset before it is too late. We could bring some wine if you'd like."

It was as though the Gods had listened to his prayers all along. Leanah was his saviour after all, and Arthor nodded his head slightly at that. Now that he thought about it, sitting here wouldn’t be all that nice and he’d much prefer to be outside with Leanah. Adding wine to that just made the thought sound even better in Arthor’s mind.

“Please.”

 
When Leanah was about to start walking again, she noticed Arthor’s longing gaze towards the men who sat drinking what she assumed was wine out of their cups. Wine did still not sound like a good idea in her head. Gods, how much trouble wine had caused them lately.

Mistakes were bound to happen whenever wine was in the picture, but Leanah didn’t want to be the terrible friend who would deny Arthor to drink. That was his choice, and Leanah would just make sure not to let him drink too much.

They had to get back up the stairs later, and she imagined that would only become more difficult if Arthor was drunk as well. As long as she didn’t drink, or at least didn’t have more than half a cup or so. More would just cause her to feel hazy and make the world around her blurry, and she had to take care of Arthor.

"I thought we would go see the sunset before it is too late. We could bring some wine if you'd like."

“Please.”

If it made him happier, she kept telling herself. Leanah was weak for his happiness, willing to go against what she believed was right and give into Arthor’s need for wine. They didn’t have to bring a lot, but Leanah walked with Arthor, letting him take care of the wine as she just stood there holding onto him.

He was quite heavy, and she didn’t think he was even leaning all his weight onto her. Leanah imagined she would have fallen over if he had done so. Compared to him she didn’t have the strength to carry him or even let him lean too much onto her, but at least she could help him a little with his own balance.

Leanah would have liked to carry the flask of wine for Arthor, but her hands were occupied. One against his back, and one holding his hand that laid over her shoulders, just like earlier.

The village outside was small. There was not much to see other than common people getting ready for the late evening. Some children were still running around while their mothers struggled to catch them, while men were walking together with flasks of wine in their hands. To her it was strange to see such things as she often stayed isolated in the castle in Santrella. Of course she had seen the life of the common people in Santrella as well, but Leanah was mostly out in the desert or the gardens when she wanted to do something outside.

They moved just as slow as before as Leanah led him through the streets.

Leanah wanted to find a place to sit that was a little further out of the village, away from all the people and somewhere they would be able to get some peace.

“Where would you like to go?” Leanah asked him, looking up at Arthor as she stopped. Neither of them knew the village, but perhaps Arthor had a better idea where they could go.

"Anywhere. It's your choice, my Lady."

After a quick look at what they had to choose from, Leanah chose to keep walking down the street they had started at in the direction where the sun would set. That way they would get the best view over it, not that it mattered too much, but she wanted to see it in front of her without the houses of the villagers shadowing over the view.

It was quite the long walk to get out of the village, but Leanah was there by Arthor’s side all the way to help him. As long as he didn’t get too tired or exhausted to walk back.

Then Leanah would have to go back and get someone to pick him up in a carriage, but she imagined Arthor wouldn’t have liked that very much considering how hesitant he seemed to her helping him.

There was nothing for them to actually sit on once they reached the end of the village. Around them were a couple of trees, but there was a large open field in front of the, and unlike back home, it was covered in tall grass instead of sand. Her dress would likely get dirty, but that didn’t matter too much.

“Are you able to sit down?”

"I'll manage."

Leanah still helped him down onto the ground, keeping her hands on him in case he would lose his balance and fall straight down into the field. She tried not to chuckle at how stiff and awkward his movements were as he sat down.

The fact that he hurt didn’t amuse her, but it was more how unusual it all looked to her. It was so strange to see Arthor like this, but Leanah didn’t mind it. All it did was make her let out the slightest chuckle one Arthor was actually sitting down against the grass.

“Thank you for doing this,” Leanah said as she sat down beside him.

"For doing this?"

“For going outside with me. Even if I had to bribe you with wine.”

Arthor chuckled, and Leanah watched him closely as he took a sip of the wine. There was a smile on her face as he offered it to her, and Leanah didn’t say no. She took the flask, taking a sip of the wine as well. It didn’t taste that good to her. If anything it was too sour, but Leanah didn’t complain as she gave the flask back to Arthor. Just a little wine wouldn’t hurt her even if it wasn’t something she was fond of. One day she would get used to the taste.

“I’m so ready to get back to Santrella. This has been an awfully exhausting journey.”
 
It seemed like neither of them knew to go after they exited the inn. The village seemed peaceful enough, but worry grew inside of Arthor as he realised that, if need be, he wouldn’t be able to protect Leanah. This was a bad decision, and he shouldn’t be agreeing to this as her guard, but Arthor found himself nodding along to what Leanah was saying and following her lead. He didn’t even have anything on him weapon-wise, which made Arthor feel almost uncomfortable.

They went out of the town just a little, while Arthor looked around and tried to survey the situation. Nothing about it seemed threatening, even the men that walked around didn’t pay much attention to them. It seemed quiet and peaceful, but Arthor was still on edge as they stumbled through it. What if something would happen? It’d be his fault for agreeing to this. They should’ve brought someone else with them…

They reached a small open field outside of the town. Arthor was having some difficulty moving, because the ground was so uneven. He tried to ignore it though and whenever the sharp pain stabbed his leg, he bit down on his lip to stifle a groan. The last thing Arthor wanted Leanah to do is feel bad for making him be in pain, so he tried not to show how fucking awful this was for him.

When Leanah stopped, Arthor breathed out a sigh of relief. He was exhausted - he hadn’t really walked that much ever since the injury, and not he was really feeling it. They’d also have to walk all the way back, which made Arthor’s head hurt just at the thought of it. He knew the time spent with Leanah would be worth the pain and the frustrations, though, at least that calmed him down a little.

Carefully, Arthor slowly bent his right leg as he stretched out his left one in front and moved his hands behind him on the ground once he was low enough. He felt awkward, but he knew that bending his left leg would just be fucking horrible so this was better. Arthor landed on his ass a bit faster than anticipated and he grunted as he laid down on the grass for just a second before sitting back up again. Sitting down was almost more exhausting than walking.

“Thank you for doing this,” Leanah said as she sat down beside him.

Arthor raised an eyebrow as he looked over at her, "for doing this?"

“For going outside with me. Even if I had to bribe you with wine.”

At that, Arthor chuckled. He hadn’t really needed the bribe of wine, but it was much appreciated. Arthor would need liquid courage to make it all the way back to his room. Without it, Arthor thought he might just give up when he’d see those damned stairs again. The thought alone made him open the flask and take a sip of the sour wine, which he offered up to Leanah afterwards.

“I’m so ready to get back to Santrella. This has been an awfully exhausting journey.”

That was an underestimation. This was a horrible journey, in Arthor’s mind. Though they had gotten rid of the Queen, Arthor wasn’t sure if it had been worth everything. Part of him wished that they would’ve never left Santrella. Gods, it seemed so long ago when they left the city they called home.

“It’s been horrible. I just want to be home already,” Arthor mumbled as he took the wine back and took another sip, “we haven’t been away for long, but it feels like years have gone by.”

"It does. I miss home."

“I miss it too,” Arthor sighed and nodded, chuckling, “it’s too cold here.”

"Imagine what it is like in the North."

Leanah’s words unintentionally made Arthor think about Elias. Lady Carlys had told him that they had informed Elias of what had happened in Wheldrake, and Arthor was almost angry at that. He would’ve much preferred that Elias knew none of this, knew none of what had happened to Arthor during the trial. Then again, how could something like this be kept a secret for long? Arthor knew that was foolish, but he still didn’t fancy the idea of Elias reading about the trial by combat.

Every time Arthor wanted to sit down and write Elias a letter, something always interrupted him from doing that. Whether it was the pain, the Maester or Leanah, Arthor always got too distracted to put words down on paper. Then again, what would he have written anyways? It seemed pointless to write that he was doing alright, and that Elias shouldn’t worry. Who even knew if the ravens from them had reached his friend anyways.

“Remind me to never go there,” Arthor nodded.

"I'll try to remember it."

Leanah chuckled and Arthor passed her the flask of wine again as he laid back slightly on the ground, leaning up on his elbows, resting in the grass behind him. Though the village was quite literally right behind them, it was so quiet and nice. Arthor enjoyed it, he enjoyed Leanah’s company and he thought he could stay here for hours if she’d want to. With Leanah, it was always like that and Arthor would lose track of time. He loved that and part of him hoped that Leanah felt the same way.

“I guess this journey could’ve went better. None of us really got what we wanted, huh?”

 
They were there for the sunset, or at least Leanah was. Instead her gaze was lingering on Arthor. There was something a little different about him now. She wasn’t sure if it was those new scars of his that were still prominent against his skin, or if Leanah just looked at Arthor as a whole a lot more differently than she had before. Those questions were still in her mind, craving to be answered. The kisses they had shared in Wheldrake didn’t make it any easier for Leanah to figure out just what it was about Arthor.

Around him, she felt so happy, like her life was a lot more meaningful with him by her side. Even during rougher times he somehow always managed to put a smile on her face. His embrace had always made her feel safe, and Leanah was finding herself lost in a mix of irrational thoughts and overwhelming emotions.

Perhaps it was the fact that Leanah had almost lost him that made her feel that way for Arthor now, like she didn’t want to lose him again. It was almost obsessive how much she wanted to be around him and create more memories like she was frightened he would be taken away from her without having something to remember him by. Leanah was confused, to say the least as she saw Arthor as a friend, nothing more and nothing less. He was a good friend though, a friend she knew she could trust with her life, no matter how foolish that was of her.

Some days there was this urge to kiss him again just to figure out why it felt right, but she never did. It wasn’t appropriate of her to do so, and she didn’t even know if Arthor remembered what they had done in Wheldrake. After seeing how he had reacted that morning after they slept together, Leanah didn’t even want to remind him in case he had forgotten, even if that pained her.

“It’s been horrible. I just want to be home already. We haven’t been away for long, but it feels like years have gone by.”

"It does. I miss home."

“I miss it too. It’s too cold here.”

"Imagine what it is like in the North."

The North must have been so cold now. Leanah had no idea what that must have felt like. She was so used to the heat in Santrella that she imagined she would have struggled in the North. It also made her think of Elias and how he probably struggled as well, though Elias most likely handled it a lot better than she would have. She was glad she lived in the South. She liked the sunny and warm weather.

“Remind me to never go there.”

"I'll try to remember it,” she chuckled.

Leanah reached her hand out, wanting Arthor to give her the flask of wine. Once he gave it to her, she took a sip of it, watching Arthor as he leaned back on his elbows against the grass. He was a handsome man. Leanah couldn’t lie and pretend he wasn’t attractive, but there was nothing else to it. She enjoyed looking at him, but most of all she just saw her friend that she loved very much.

“I guess this journey could’ve went better. None of us really got what we wanted, huh?”

“I didn’t expect much, but I wish we never left Santrella.”

"At least the Queen's dead. Something good came out of this trip."

In reality, Leanah didn’t care much for the Queen or the fact that she was dead. She hadn’t thought much about while they were in Wheldrake as she had been so busy worrying about Arthor. Now she didn’t know how to feel about it. They had somewhat gotten justice for Timos, and perhaps now it would be easier for Leanah to move on from the loss of her brother. She still missed him, but at least his killer was dead, even if the King was still alive.

“What do you think will happen now that the Queen is dead?”

"Things might get more interesting, regarding war and politics. At the same time, perhaps nothing will happen. I don't know if I care, honestly."

“I don’t care that much. Is that foolish of us? Not caring about our King or Queen,” Leanah chuckled. It was obvious that they would never care for the Wynvers simply because what they had done to Timos.

"Probably, but fuck them. They don't care about us, we don't have to care about them."

Leanah took another sip of the wine before giving it to Arthor again. It was at these moments she felt so incredibly lucky to have a friend like him. Even if they weren’t doing much at all, just sitting in the grass, it was nice to have him around. She loved every second that they spent together.

“Be careful with saying that out loud. We’re still on their land, Arthor,” Leanah mocked him.

"I don't care. Fuck the King."

“I dare you to scream that out a little louder.”

"You dare me?"

“Yeah, scream out that you hate the King unless you’re scared,” she chuckled as she watched Arthor raise his eyebrow at her before taking a sip of the wine. Leanah didn’t actually mean it. Screaming that out so close to the village would be stupid as there were probably men who lived there who were loyal to the King. She was just having some fun with him while they drank wine together.
 
“What do you think will happen now that the Queen is dead?”

In all honesty, it didn’t matter to Arthor all that much. He hadn’t even thought about it a whole lot when he found out that he had won the trial for Lady Carlys. When it came to politics, Arthor hardly cared about it. Right now, he cared about the war and if they’d win but the specifics didn’t matter to him. He had always found it rather dull and boring. The most he had cared about it was when him and Elias had been looking into Timos’ murder.

Now Arthor really didn’t give a fuck about the royals. All he cared about was that the King would die for the crimes he’d committed. With his whole heart, Arthor hoped that the Northmen knew what they were doing. They were their last chance.

"Things might get more interesting, regarding war and politics. At the same time, perhaps nothing will happen. I don't know if I care, honestly."

“I don’t care that much. Is that foolish of us? Not caring about our King or Queen.”

"Probably, but fuck them. They don't care about us, we don't have to care about them."

“Be careful with saying that out loud. We’re still on their land, Arthor.”

Arthor grinned and shrugged, "I don't care. Fuck the King."

“I dare you to scream that out a little louder.”

Now that was a stupid idea. If Arthor had more wine in his body, he would’ve actually done it. When he was under the influence, he had done an awful lot of stupid things. Some of them he really didn’t want to remember, but some were still amusing to look back on. Committing treason didn’t sound exactly amusing, though. Gods forbid there were loyalists of the King in the village.

"You dare me?"

“Yeah, scream out that you hate the King unless you’re scared.”

Arthor raised an eyebrow and chuckled, sipping his wine, “I would, but I don’t have a sword on me just in case some loyalist would take offense to my words. I’m sure you understand.”

"Of course I understand. You're a coward,” Leanah laughed.

Arthor laughed and reached over to push Leanah, while her reaction to that was to slap his hand away. He grinned and moved his arm away again as he took a sip from the wine again. As the silence set in, Arthor’s smile faded again and he found his thoughts wandering again while his eyes stayed on Leanah who had leant back and was looking up into the sky.

Gods she was the most beautiful woman he’d set his eyes on. Everything about her was attractive to him, and Arthor wasn’t sure what to think about it. The one thing he knew was that he loved her, and he loved what they shared together, he loved their friendship and he dreaded the thought of losing her. Arthor didn’t want to think too much about it. His dreams sometimes surprised him with things he’d rather not think about her, he didn’t want to ruin something between them.

The wine flask in his hand suddenly felt heavy and he set it down between them instead of drinking it more. That sounded like it’d foreshadow a bad idea, and Arthor didn’t want to do something stupid. He had drank enough for the evening. If not, then he could just finish the flask later in the night when he was alone again in his room. Wine had caused enough problems for them as it was.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done these past few weeks. You shouldn’t have, but thank you,” Arthor said quietly.

"You deserve it,” Leanah said with a sweet smile as she reached out to take his hand.

Arthor watched her intently, thinking about what she’d said. He figured that Leanah would think that, but it didn’t really match with his own thoughts. All Arthor knew was that he was incredibly lucky to have someone as selfless as Leanah by his side. He deserved none of her affection and yet here she was.

“Do I?”

"Yes, you do."

“Either way, thank you, Leanah,” Arthor mumbled as he raised her hand and gently pressed his lips against it, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

"You know I wouldn't know what to do without you either. I'm so happy you're still here,” Leanah replied, her hand squeezing his tightly.

Leanah and Elias were the only reasons for Arthor to really live. Without them, he’d be nothing and have nothing. Life would be utterly meaningless, and he was so very grateful to have them around. They would give him the strength he so very needed to heal and get back to normal. Even if a part of Arthor stubbornly still believed that they were too good for him and that he should just drop them both before he’d hurt them again.

“I’ll always be with you,” Arthor smiled a little, squeezing her hand back.

"I hope so."

Before Arthor could say something stupid back to her, he nodded and turned his head away as he laid back in the grass, moving his arm to rest behind his head. He couldn’t exactly say that he liked it here, he preferred the deserts of the South to this. Though they were bland and boring to some, Arthor preferred the sun and the sand over this. In small doses and with the help of Leanah, though, he could manage.

“Even sunsets are better in Santrella,” Arthor mumbled.

 
“Thank you for everything you’ve done these past few weeks. You shouldn’t have, but thank you.”

Once Leanah heard Arthor’s words she looked away from the sky, meeting his gaze. In her eyes, she had done what was right. She loved him, cared for him, and that was not something she could control. Those were her true emotions, and she believed Arthor deserved her care and love. If Leanah believed he didn’t, she would have never done anything for him, but they had been friends for so long. Wasn’t it expected of her to care?

"You deserve it,” she said.

There was a sweet smile on her face as she reached out to take his hand in hers. She doubted that she would ever be able to not care for him. Arthor was so special to her in a way she couldn’t even begin to explain. There were truly no words for what he meant to her. Even through everything they had experienced together, they sat there in the field still together. Leanah loved that about them, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Do I?”

"Yes, you do."

“Either way, thank you, Leanah. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her gaze followed the movement of his hand as he brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. It felt so sweet to hear Arthor say such things. How could she not love him? There was so much about Arthor for her to love that it felt impossible to hate him or ever be angry with him. Leanah had forgiven him already for what had happened. Their mistakes barely mattered to her now. Whatever Arthor had done in the past, didn’t matter.

"You know I wouldn't know what to do without you either. I'm so happy you're still here.”

“I’ll always be with you,”

Leanah had squeezed his hand, and Arthor gave hers a squeeze too which was somewhat soothing. It made her believe that Arthor would always be there with her. She didn’t ever want him to leave or be taken away from her. If anything she wanted him to stay with her at the castle until they could grow old together. She hoped they would be friends for the rest of her life, no matter what would happen.

"I hope so."

Arthor laid down into the grass then, and Leanah hesitated whether she should have done the same or not. Even if she did hesitate, she laid down into the field beside him, her hand still holding his. She laced their fingers together, stroking her thumb over his skin, looking up at him. The risk of someone seeing them didn’t bother her. There was nothing inappropriate about what they were doing.

“Even sunsets are better in Santrella.”

“I will never forget the times I dragged you out in the desert to watch the sunset with me. I miss that.”

"Haven't you gotten bored of it? All sunsets kind of look the same really."

“That doesn’t matter. I never get bored when I’m with you.”

That was also something that seemed impossible to her, getting bored around Arthor. They always had something to do, something to talk about. Some might have seen them as boring, but Leanah didn’t think so. Perhaps one day they would grow tired of each other, but she hoped that day would never come.

"Am I that interesting?"

Leanah sighed, “no, not really.”

Arthor pulled his hand away from hers, and Leanah lifted her body up from the grass as he put his hand against his chest. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he was hurt, and most likely in pain, she would have poked her finger against his side, tickle him or do something to make him laugh. Instead she just looked at him as she laughed at how stupid he looked trying to pretend that he was offended by her joke.

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

"You broke my heart with that."

Mockingly, Leanah pouted as she reached for his hand. She raised it up to her lips, pressing two short kisses onto it, “forgive me, Arthor.”

"I don't know if I can."

Before Leanah could even stop herself, she had let his hand go and leaned down over him, supporting herself on her arm that laid against the grass beside Arthor’s body. Her lips found his as she pressed a sweet kiss against them. He tasted like wine. That sour taste lingered on his lips as she slowly moved hers against him. It had been supposed to be a short kiss, but now Leanah found herself craving the feeling of his lips. She sighed softly into the kiss, forgetting all about how inappropriate it was of her to do so.

Arthor was stroking her hair, and gods, Leanah didn’t want to pull away. It felt like it had lasted away too long when in reality, Arthor pulled away just after a couple of seconds.

"I forgive you.”

“Good.”

It was such a foolish thing of her to kiss him, but Leanah didn’t feel bothered about it as she laid back down in the grass. Instead all it did was raise more questions that she so badly wanted to ask Arthor, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to risk ruining the moment between them as she laid there with her eyes on the sky above them. Those questions could wait no matter how much she ached to know the answers to them.
 
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A New Queen.
Chapter LIV
House Wynver
Forwards From Beneath
Wheldrake, Crownlands of Aedighar
​
Nothing quite made sense and Alys was waiting to wake up from whatever this was. A dream, a nightmare? She wasn’t sure yet. On one hand, she was going to be Queen of Aedighar. On the other hand, she was going to marry the King of Aedighar. Now, Alys wasn’t one to judge people she didn’t know but her first impression of him wasn’t exactly the nicest.

The things they said about King Trevas Wynver weren’t things a woman would want to hear about her soon-to-be husband. Alys tried to write them off as mere gossip, but that was hard to do. A good man wouldn’t remarry a month after his wife’s passing, right? That was the worst part of it all, and it made Alys feel very uncomfortable the more she thought about it.

Just like other girls, Alys had dreamt of a beautiful wedding to a handsome man that she’d love. That wasn’t wrong, it was just dreams fueled by so many love songs and stories. There was nothing wrong with wishing for love and a happy marriage, right? Alys wanted that, and she had hoped that she’d have it one day. She hoped to marry for love and happiness, now it was obvious that she was marrying only for some gain the King would get from her.

Perhaps it was children, that made the most sense in Alys’ mind. It was either that or the money House Karr could offer the Crown. Old and prideful, House Karr resided in the Crownlands not that far from Wheldrake. Their seat was in the Golden Harbour, the only port in Aedighar with a solid connection to Aysenore. That, of course, made House Karr one of the richest in Aedighar, also one of the most entitled.

Lord Harlik Karr and his wife Lady Jaelyn took utmost care in marrying their children off. It was the sole reason why Alys was still unmarried as of yet. She knew there were marriage proposals coming in almost every week ever since she had flowered, but her father hadn’t accepted any of them. His excuse was that he wanted the best for Alys, but she felt that he was only looking for what was best to House Karr.

That wasn’t inherently wrong, but Alys still felt a twinge of sadness as she thought about it. It was hard to convince herself that her parents loved her when they were just waiting for the right offer on her hand. Alys knew that it was important, of course, but she did wish that she’d have a choice in all of this. After all, it was her life that would be completely changed, not theirs. But no, Lord Harlik Karr stubbornly stayed private, only telling Alys that no, he hadn’t found her a match yet.

When the day came that finally someone got a yes out of Lord Harlik, it was written on her father’s face. Mother was with him as well, standing beside her husband with a gentle smile on her face. A smile on either of her parents’ faces was a rare sight - they almost always had stern expressions present - so Alys had been confused as to what had happened.

Wasting no time or even letting her truly wake up and rise from her bed, Lord Harlik began to explain in few words what had happened in Wheldrake and what was happening to Alys. Most of it went into one ear and out the other, while Alys tried to clear up her mind from the morning haziness. Honestly, when Alys heard the end of the story, she thought she might still be asleep. Only when she asked again and her father confirmed it once more, with his patience obviously waning, did Alys truly hear him and understand.

Of course, Alys had heard the news about the Queen dying. She wasn’t completely in the dark of things, but that was about it when it came to her knowledge about current events. Alys wanted to know more, but father never let her. She was his only daughter and he always repeated that politics were meant for her elder brothers. Eventually, Alys stopped nagging him and stayed out of everyone’s way, only finding about the major happenings in Aedighar whenever someone bothered to tell her.

The news explained why her parents had been so happy. Who wouldn’t be happy to marry their daughter to the King? Even Alys had been excited at the start, though she dared not to show it. The idea was interesting, almost exciting in a way, and the next few days Alys had been almost happy.

Only with time, came the realisation that something wasn’t right. Alys thought more about how rushed it all felt and remembered everything she’d heard over the years about Trevas Wynver and House Wynver in general. She tried to calm herself by thinking about how rich and powerful she’d be as Queen, but that didn’t really mean anything to her. House Karr was rich enough, and Alys had no joy in it so why would that change when a crown would be put on her head?

No, the more days passed, the less excited Alys got. More than anything, she grew anxious. What if he wouldn’t like her? What if he truly was as bad as they said? It worried her, frightened her in ways she couldn’t explain when she thought too much about it. They’d never even met before, Alys had no idea how to even picture her husband in her mind.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen, and it all felt like a strange dream she’d soon wake up from. Still, Alys never seemed to be able to truly open her eyes. Hours became days, and days became weeks, and Alys still dreamt on and her dream lead her to Wheldrake. She’d honestly never seen smiles on her parents’ faces for so long. The second they entered the city, they were plastered on their faces and Alys almost felt uncomfortable by it. At least knowing that this brought them joy made her happy as well, or she tried to tell herself that.

Even when they arrived, Alys didn’t get the chance to meet him. It almost made her angry in a way that the King wasn’t showing up to talk to his betrothed. Everything about this bothered her, but Alys tried to calm herself. It was all so sudden and unexpected, that Alys found herself confused about many things. It felt like she couldn’t even breathe sometimes, that everything was happening too fast and too rapidly. All Alys wanted was to go back home, but that wasn’t possible anymore, there was no way out of this and she knew that.

The only thing that calmed her and made her want to go through with it was thinking about how much joy and prestige it’d bring to House Karr. Though Golden Harbour had already made them well-known enough, marrying into the Royal House Wynver would only heighten it. It was the only thing that calmed Alys’ storming mind and the only way she kept herself sane on the day that her wedding was to take place. When Alys stood outside the Sept, she wondered if he was just as anxious as she was.
 
‘I love you.’

Those had been Trevas’ words, his last words to his Queen, the woman he loved.

It was supposed to make Trevas happy. The sight of her death was something he had fought so hard for. He had wanted to free himself of her for good, but once the moment came, Trevas found himself overwhelmed with certain emotions he hadn’t felt in years. It had made his fingers shake, and his whole body ached. Those feelings were supposed to be gone once Katlyn’s body was dragged away from his sight. Yet they lingered inside of him. Trevas had planned everything so damn carefully, and still, he had stood there feeling like his plan had failed.

At night Trevas would lay awake for hours glancing over at the empty spot in the bed beside him. He would run his fingers over the mattress where she had used to sleep. The bed didn’t smell like her anymore. She hadn’t slept in it for weeks ever since the accusations had come into light. Once he closed his eyes, he would see her. His hands would tangle in her long blonde hair while he pressed sweet kisses against the exposed skin on her shoulder. Trevas would whisper sweet nothings in her ear as his hands roamed over her body.

Then the sleepy haze left him once he woke up, and Trevas would feel angry all over again. He was angry with the Hastwycks for causing this to happen, and he had made sure Lady Carlys knew damn well that he never wanted to see her in Wheldrake again. If she ever decided to come back, Trevas would execute her for treason with his own hands. Then he felt angry with the Grand Maester who had given Katlyn the damned moon tea for so many years without stopping to think of the consequences.

Never did Trevas stop to think that everything had started once he had gotten the taste for power, or when he had gotten too selfish around his own family. In his eyes, Katlyn had died because of everyone around him, and it was not him who was the person to blame. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

That was what he kept repeating once his hands were around the bloody neck of the Grand Maester. Trevas had looked deep into the eyes of the man beneath him. Through all the blood, all he saw was the man who had caused Trevas’ marriage to Katlyn fall into ruins. He had clenched his fingers so tightly around his neck, a grim smile on his face as he felt as if he was getting his revenge. His eyes had blackened, so empty as he showed no mercy for the Grand Maester. Even when he took his last breath, Trevas was still holding onto him.

There had been so much blood on his hands. Trevas felt like his whole life had become a blur. He had left the bruised and bloody body of the Grand Maester, left it like nothing mattered to him anymore. He was the King. No one would ever dare to blame him for the murder. Though everything about Trevas screamed guilty.

For a few days, Trevas hadn’t even thought about the wedding that would happen between him and Alys Karr. All along his plan had been to keep that part secret for as long as he could, but news spread fast in Wheldrake. Everyone seemed to be pretending they were so excited for a royal wedding. Aedighar would get a new and young Queen who hopefully would give Trevas the last thing he needed to feel safe with the Northerners who were coming closer and closer to them, a son.

All that was on Trevas’ mind was Katlyn and how fucking angry he was with her. He felt angry for loving her. She didn’t deserve his love, and still Trevas found himself mourning her damned death. It was so confusing. It made him feel lost and terribly lonely. Before Katlyn’s death, Trevas had appreciated the feeling of being alone, and now it only made him furious. He absolutely hated it.

Over the last month since Katlyn’s death, the frustration in Trevas only seemed to grow and grow. Even as he stood there in the Sept with the High Septon and the altar. He wore the colors of his house so proudly as the Sept was filled with nobles from all sorts of different houses. Trevas didn’t care for them. It felt like all his emotions had been left in his bedchamber as he stood there. He didn’t feel anger and neither did he feel happy. If anything he felt incredibly empty as he stood there on his own wedding day.

It was all so expensive as it was supposed to be such a beautiful wedding between the new Queen and the King of Aedighar, and Trevas couldn’t even care. He glanced over the crowd, feeling himself grow impatient. Gods, he just wanted it to be over with. He had no expectations for Alys Karr. She would likely be just another boring woman, and all she would be good for was giving him a son. Trevas hadn’t taken the time to see her or even get to know her before the wedding. That wasn’t important to him, and he simply didn’t have time for it.

Trevas saw his two daughters beside all the other nobles. Justan was there too, so where the Brynes who had stayed with them ever since Elaria and Justan had wed. Somehow he managed to force a smile on his face, though he would have liked it of none of them were there. Trevas didn’t even want to bother thinking about what his own daughters must have thought of him now that they knew everything. For as long as he could he just wanted to push them away until he felt ready to tackle that problem, which he expected would be never.

Then the ceremony started, and Trevas gaze fell on the brunette walking next to Lord Harlik Karr. Alys Karr, even now when Trevas felt as if he was at the worst point of his life, it seemed like her beauty lit up the whole Sept. Everyone was so damn quiet as she walked down the aisle. There was such a pretty smile on her face which just screamed innocence to him. Her features were so youthful, and it looked like everyone was mesmerized with her.

Even Trevas raised a brow, tugging at one side of his lips in a half genuine smile as his gaze was lingering on her. She would be his wife, and though Trevas didn’t care for who he would have to share his bed with, he didn’t complain. In the back of his mind, he could remember Katlyn and what she had looked like on their wedding day. That was so long ago, and Trevas found himself pushing Katlyn so far away from his thoughts.

That frustration still lingered deep inside of him, but now he was just relieved that his wife wasn’t some ugly woman who he would have to look at every single day for the rest of his life.

Trevas’ smiled washed away as she came closer. Now he just looked at her, watched as she stood by the altar with him while Lord Karr unfastened the cloak around her shoulders. Trevas did the same with his, holding his cloak ready as the High Septon spoke. He didn’t care for the High Septon. In the messy mind of his, he felt some sort of responsibility to manipulate Alys into thinking only good things about him, so he was giving her all his attention as he laid his cloak over her shoulders, gently squeezing them after fastening the cloak.
 
It was beautiful. Alys had never seen such a grand event, much less a Sept of this size. She felt so small when she entered it and looked up at the high ceiling above. Alys wondered if the Gods were watching over her then, if they were even with her. Even clutching onto the arm of her father, Alys felt so very alone as they slowly walked through the Sept. There were so many people there, so many nobles that Alys would likely have to befriend over the time, and yet she felt as though the Sept was empty and it was just her.

Would the people like her? Alys wanted to be a good Queen, a Queen that both commoners and nobles would look up to and like. She didn’t want sour looks as she walked through Wheldrake, she didn’t want to be feared nor hated. Alys only wanted to be liked. Was that too much to ask?

Every part of her wanted to turn around and run away, Alys didn’t want this. She didn’t want to marry a man she didn’t know. How could one marry without love? It was surreal to her, and sounded ridiculous. A marriage was supposed to join a man and a woman, they’d have to share a bed tonight and Alys remembered her Septa telling her that what happened in a bedchamber must only be shared between those with deep love for each other. She didn’t love the King, wasn’t this going against everything the Gods wanted?

As though to keep herself from running off, Alys gripped onto her father’s arm tighter. He hadn’t said a word to her that day, only that she should smile and look pretty. There was nothing inside of her that felt happy, and still Alys tried to follow her father’s orders.

Not only did she want the people to like her, Alys wanted her husband to be fond of her as well. It seemed like a hard task to achieve, considering that he hadn’t bothered to even look for her when they’d first arrived in Wheldrake. Taking everything else into mind, Alys was almost pessimistic about this. Still, she wanted to achieve this and she’d try her best to be a good wife to him.

They must’ve noticed her presence then. As they stepped onto the rolled out carpet between the two halves of the crowd, heads turned to face Alys. She had no problem with being in the centre of attention, and yet she felt mildly uncomfortable. All Alys wanted was to know what they were thinking right now, as their faces were unreadable to her. Some were smiling, some were frowning, some stood still with empty expressions. Still, Alys tried to smile as she walked.

It was almost as though her eyes refused to land on the High Septon and the King. Alys stubbornly let her eyes dance over the crowd on both sides of her as she walked. Only when the altar came so close that the crowd around her disappeared, did Alys raise her eyes to finally meet him. Well, at least he was handsome.

The smile on her face was frozen in place, and Alys already felt her cheeks burning from the ache it was causing her. Still she wore it, knowing that her father wouldn’t be happy if she were to let it go. It was her wedding, and she was supposed to be happy. She was supposed to look happy, at least.

There were words said and cloaks exchanged, but Alys found her mind elsewhere. She wanted to enjoy it, she wanted to feel butterflies in her stomach when his hands touched her shoulders. She wanted to, but she felt nothing. Alys’ mind was too preoccupied as she thought about everything. Gods, it was so rushed that even now it didn’t feel real.

The cloak was around her shoulders then and Alys turned to face the High Septon as she joined hands with Trevas. Stupidly, she wondered if he was thinking about Queen Katlyn. She had died not long ago, and Alys wondered if that would be a problem. Really, Alys wasn’t sure what would be worse - the ghost of the late Queen laying between them or Trevas forgetting his dead wife entirely after just a month. Neither option sounded good to Alys, and she had no idea how this would work out, if it even could.

The Septon spoke and tied a silk ribbon around their outstretched arms. Alys could feel the warmth radiating from Trevas, but Gods she felt cold. Her dress was of ivory silk and lace, not exactly warm materials even though they covered most of her. Alys kept herself from shivering as she tried to think about the words the High Septon spoke, but once they left his mouth they also left her mind. This wasn’t how her wedding was supposed to be, nothing felt right, everything felt wrong. He felt wrong.

Even when they spoke their vows to each other, vowing to the Gods that they were each other’s until the end of their days, Alys felt awkward. She was saying such intimate things to a stranger, a man she didn’t know. How could Alys tell him that she was his when they hadn’t even spoken to each other? It hurt her head the more she thought about it and Gods she just wanted to wake up. Instead, Alys said her vows and smiled sweetly with every word.

Every other kiss Alys had experienced had made her feel something. She had felt butterflies in her tummy when a knight had stolen a kiss from her after a tourney, she had felt anger when a stable boy had dared to press his lips against hers. There were enough kisses in her life to know that each one of them was supposed to arise some sort of emotion out of her. When Trevas pressed his lips against hers, she felt nothing. Alys wanted to feel as though the kiss was magical, that this was her true love after all, and yet that feeling never came.

Part of her felt guilty. A good wife should enjoy it, and Alys tried. She tried to think about how handsome he was, how powerful he was and how they might grow to love each other. Still her mind was filled with other thoughts that made it impossible to focus on such things. Everything inside of her was fighting, one emotion was pitted against another and nothing made sense. All Alys wanted was to go home.

 
All of sudden Trevas had found a plan inside his head on how he would make this work. That was what he always did. He would plan things so perfectly in his mind, and once he thought he had the perfect idea in mind, he would be so determined to make it work. That was what he had done with Katlyn, but Gods, she was something else. He didn’t even want to think about her as he stood there with the woman who would be his wife now. Now he was determined to sculpt her into the perfect wife for him, no matter how cruel that might have sounded to others.

It was what Trevas did with everyone around him. He would put on a facade and make Alys be loyal to him, when in reality all she was good for was to give him an heir. After the loss of Katlyn, it seemed as Trevas had only grown more cold towards the world around him.

Those emotions he had felt were disturbing, and he never wanted to feel them again which had just caused him to completely close himself away from everything. All he could now was to pretend, and he liked to think he was good at pretending.

Trevas would have to detach himself completely from the thought of Katlyn. She was gone, and he had to remember there was no point in even remembering her anymore, even if that conflicted with what he truly felt.

Their vows had been said, and Trevas had turned to face his wife. He was smiling as he brought his hand up to her cheek. Compared to him she was short, and Trevas had to lean down to press his lips against hers. His other arm hooked around her body, resting against her back as he kissed her with such passion though he didn’t really feel anything for her. The only thing it made him want was to kiss her all over only to strengthen his own position as her husband. Trevas would go full out with his plan even if it made him uncomfortable.

Once Trevas pulled away, he took her hand in his and turned towards the crowd as he smiled at every single one of them. He needed them to believe he was so proud of his new wife. They needed to be proud of their new Queen.

Alys could be the last thing he needed to win over the support of many houses and commoners in case the Northerners reached them and wanted to throw him off the throne. He wanted to make it difficult for the Northmen, and if Alys was loved by the people, then they would hopefully want her as the Queen.

During the time he was being congratulated on the marriage, exchanging polite words with many of the nobles, Trevas still pretended to care. Though most of all he was looking forward to actually speak to Alys. Perhaps he would be surprised, and maybe she would impress him in a certain way, but he doubted that. He would get some time in the carriage to get to know her, and he knew how he would do so.

Trevas had helped Alys get inside the carriage before he got in himself. A smile spread across his face as he looked at her before taking her hand once again. He pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles.

“My wife, I apologize how sudden all of this is. How rushed it may seem. I hope you can forgive me for not speaking to you sooner or having enough time to get to know you, and I hope I can make it up to you.”

"I understand, Your Grace. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."

It felt like there was something in the air between them, and Trevas could somewhat understand why that was so, but he decided to ignore it as he still held onto Alys’ hand. Gently he stroked his thumb over her skin. He wanted to lure her in, make her feel comfortable with him. The best way would to be loving towards her, show her he was willing to take the time now to cherish her, even if he couldn’t care less.

“I’m sure we do. I should have come to you sooner, but I truly look forward to this, and I hope you feel the same way.”

"Of course."

Trevas let silence fall between them then, still holding her hand all the way through the city until they reached the destination of where the feast would be held. He was mostly looking forward to getting Alys for himself in this room, not because of the things that would happen, but Trevas would find it a lot easier to talk her if they were alone.

Perhaps if Alys got some time to think over the situation during the feast, she would be more open to speak to him comfortably. He knew he would have to persistent if he wanted this plan to work.

While they were silent, Trevas thought about how it would truly be for him if he had to pretend for the rest of his life to love someone he would never love. At least with Katlyn there had been something there from the start, but perhaps that was because their marriage hadn’t been rushed. Trevas found himself constantly pushing Katlyn out of his mind. It was like the memory of her had been burned into his head, and he would never be able to forget.

Gods, he wanted to beat people bloody for what had happened. He felt that frustration spread through his body, but he tried to calm himself down as he looked at Alys. Up until now, she hadn’t been able to impress him. If anything he felt a little disappointed with her, but maybe she could change that impression later.

They reached the feast, and Trevas made sure to still hold her hand as they stepped out of the carriage. Everyone was cheering and clapping their hands together as they stood there together, and he couldn’t deny that he liked that attention. The smile on his face then was almost genuine as he let her hand go and instead hooked his arm around her, resting against her waist as he walked beside her towards where they would sit for the rest of the afternoon. He wanted everyone to believe that he was smitten with her.
 
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