Fantasy Aedighar [closed]

[desti]

Gods, the thought of the war finally reaching them was absolutely terrifying. Alys knew that it would take everything from her and she’d be lucky if she’d stay alive. She selfishly wanted to remain Queen and stay in Wheldrake with her expensive dresses and lavish lifestyle. It wasn’t exciting, but at least she was comfortable and safe. If the war would take her someplace elsewhere, Alys imagined that wouldn’t be the case anymore.

As much as Alys hated to admit it, Trevas’ fate bothered her as well. She didn’t want to lose him, not really. Sure, she was mad at him and various other things, but Alys had grown used to him by now. He was her husband after all, and Alys wanted him to be there for her. She wanted him to be a father to her child most of all. Alys didn’t want to see him perish in the war.

Though Trevas was right about how she’d have their child and his daughter, Alys wanted more. She wanted him, too. It would be unfair to lose him as well as her life, and Alys didn’t want that. She felt so foolish for how her thoughts were at the moment, but Alys couldn’t help it. It was like the war was making her forget how much Trevas had truly hurt her.

Alys raised her hand to touch his wrist as she looked at him again, “but I need you, too.”

"Running away would make me a coward."

It would, but if that was their only option then perhaps they should better be cowards, than corpses. Alys felt so conflicted about what she was feeling, but she knew that she didn’t want to lose any of this. If out of everything she could only keep Trevas, then that wouldn’t be a great deal, but at least it’d be something. And at least her child would have a father then.

“At least you’d be alive then.”

"I know, but I'm not sure what will happen yet, Alys."

“Unless there’s a miracle, it’s pretty obvious what is going to happen.”

"I'm going to die, and Aedighar will be ruled by Northerners."

“The latter is inevitable.”

"Do you want me to run away too?"

Undoubtedly Trevas would be remembered harshly if he were to run away, rather than face the Northerners. There were no doubts about that, but what did it matter what the history books would write of him. Alys cared much more about how her child wouldn’t be without a father then, that was the most important thing to her.

“I want you to be with me.”

"I'll stay with you."
“Really?” Alys asked as she hesitantly moved her hand from his wrist to rest on his cheek.

“Yes,” Trevas said, giving her a small nod.

If that was true, then Trevas was willing to taint his name forever for this. Alys didn’t know how much he cared about that, but she still found herself feeling grateful for what he was willing to do. She figured he might’ve only done it for their child, but that was fine with her. After all, she was doing all of this because of that as well.

Instead of answering, Alys leant forwards to kiss him. After so long, it felt a little strange, but she didn’t really mind that all too much. When Trevas kissed her back, Alys moved her other hand to his face as well. She felt so stupid and desperate, but Alys couldn’t stop. At least it distracted her from the newfound fears she had in her mind. Trevas stroked her hair out of her face and his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer against him.

It was giving her much needed comfort and a distraction, so Alys didn’t even think about pulling away. She felt pathetic for breaking so easily, but it was hard not to, all things considered. Everything would end soon, then Alys would have so many other things to worry about. Right now, she just wanted to kiss him and forget about her worries for a moment.

Alys wanted to feel him closer, so she moved to straddle his chest and pushed one of her hands against his chest so that he’d lay back with her on top. Trevas’ hand stroked down along her back, while his other hand stayed on her cheek, his thumb stroking against her. The hand on his chest moved back to Trevas’ face again and Alys kissed him so desperately that even she thought it was rather pathetic.

Trevas’ hand gripped onto her waist then while his other one moved into her hair, tugging on it a little. Alys didn’t really know what she wanted at that point, she just knew that she wanted to stop feeling so scared and upset. This helped, much more than she had anticipated, therefore Alys still didn’t pull away. Trevas did though, and Alys opened her eyes to look at him.

“Alys.”

“What?”

"I won't leave you. I promise. I'll take care of you and our child."

While that was nice and all, it really just made her think about everything again, so Alys didn’t hesitate to push their lips together again. Trevas kissed her maybe a little harsher, but Alys didn’t really care at that point. She wanted a distraction and she was getting one, which was all she cared for.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Sharing kisses with Alys wasn’t what Trevas had expected to happen. Perhaps she felt overwhelmed by emotion too. The war was going to be tough, and she was right that it was inevitable that Aedighar would soon be ruled by Northerners. He could only imagine how stressful it was for her considering she was carrying their child. Women tended to be quite emotional in his experience when they were pregnant, and he felt sorry for Alys that she had to go through this while he imagined she wasn’t able to relax. It was unfair to her. She didn’t deserve this.

If they were to run away together, Trevas knew that he would be written off as a coward. Though he imagined that wouldn’t bother him too much. For years he had ruled Aedighar with harsh judgement and little mercy. The people had called him many things over those years, and he didn’t care. Power was blinding. Too often did it get into his head, but Trevas didn’t care anymore about his reputation. He was trying to focus on his family.

For too long he had let his duty as the King been his biggest priority. After everything he had finally realised that it was time to put his own first. That was selfish in a way since Trevas wouldn’t care if the people died or starved. All that mattered was that he would be able to get his family and himself away from the city, and hopefully across the sea. They would be safe, all written off as cowards, but at least he wouldn’t give the Northerners his head.

In all honesty, Trevas wanted to talk to Alys. It was important they spoke about this. She needed to be prepared for the worst scenario, and he needed to come up with a plan, a good plan. But it seemed like she had other things in mind as she kissed him again. That made his head rush with thoughts of what she wanted, but he didn’t want to expect anything from her, and he was letting her take control of the situation tonight.

With his fingers still tangled in her hair, he kissed her, moving his lips harshly against hers. He hadn’t lied when he had told her that night that he liked her. Some feelings resided within him when it came to her, especially now because of the child. He couldn’t have any ill thoughts about the woman who carried his child, and he felt connected to her. It wasn’t love. That Trevas knew, but he did think fondly of her, and he did feel attracted to her.

After all, Alys was a beautiful woman, but even so, Trevas still found himself a little unsure about her. He hoped that they could move past everything and start over again, and perhaps then he could learn to love her, or at least admire and cherish her. Either way, he wasn’t sure what Alys wanted from him now as she still pressed her lips against his. Did it even feel right? Trevas wasn’t sure of that either, but it did feel good, and it had to be right.

Trevas pulled away from the kiss once again, “Alys, what do you need?”

"You."

That calmed his thoughts. That uncertainty he felt was slowly washing away as Alys said she needed him. Trevas needed her too, more than he liked to admit. Now he had to shut off his own mind, not let his own words get the better of him as he pulled her back to kiss her. Perhaps they were both in need of a distraction. It sounded nice, but again he didn’t want to expect anything from her as they were only kissing.

Even if affection had become so foreign to Trevas, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if they were only to lay in bed all night and share kisses while they held each other. Would it feel nice as well? Perhaps not, but if it would make Alys feel better, then Trevas would endure the awkwardness of it. It would be uncomfortable for him, but he had to learn how to handle it, how to feel comfortable with it, or at least he imagined he had to.

While Alys was stroking his face, he pulled away from the kiss again, taking a deep breath as he moved them both so he could lay with his head against the pillows on the bed. His hands were firmly gripping onto her hips to keep her there as his gaze stayed on her. Did she truly need him? Would she really care if he were to die in the war? Was this all because of the child? If so, then Trevas didn’t mind. He wanted to be a father to this child.

Trevas had somewhat expected Alys to kiss him again, but when she didn’t, he moved his hand to her cheek, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. There was still sadness in her eyes. It wouldn’t be right of him to take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable unless she truly wanted it. That he wasn’t sure of yet, and for now he imagined he’d just try to comfort her, and he’d give her whatever she wanted.

Alys leaned down to kiss him again then, and Trevas didn’t mind. It felt like he didn’t deserve it, but he was desperate for her forgiveness, and she had given him a chance. It couldn’t be wrong of him to feel good about kissing her then. He had been so horrible towards her, but if she was ready to move on, then he would gladly do so. That was what he wanted, after all, to move on from everything he had done to her and everyone else.

As his hand still rested against her cheek, Trevas now moved it down to rest against the side of her neck, stroking his thumb along her jawline. When Alys sank her teeth into his bottom lip, he wasn’t sure how to feel as he let out a quiet groan into the kiss. Gods, it was difficult to know how to be around her now that he wasn’t supposed to lie or pretend. At least he wasn’t lying now. He was enjoying this, but it felt so different, perhaps in a good way.

Now he couldn’t help but stroke his hand from her neck and into her hair as he gently tugged at it. With his other hand, he pressed his thumb against her hipbone, letting those thoughts that he was trying to keep away rush through his mind. All that emotional stress was making him vulnerable too. He was feeling weak, not able to resist her even if he didn’t want to resist her. Gods, his mind was a mess.

 

[desti]

Wine.
Chapter XC
House Rhyne
May all be as one
Nilfgaard, Northern lands of Aedighar
​

Too often Darron thought about how big of a prick he had turned into. Not that he wasn’t a dick before, but now he was really pushing the limits of that. As he spoke, Darron could hear himself say things so poisonous and with so much ill intent sometimes, that it surprised himself. He wasn’t a bad person, he really wasn’t. Why was he acting like one, though?

There was no point in asking the question, since Darron knew the answer anyways. Gods be fucked, Rhea had truly messed him up forever. Now that Darron’s humour was mostly gone, everything he said just came off as rude. He didn’t want to speak to anyone and nobody really wanted to speak to him, and Darron didn’t really mind all that much, except that it made him feel like shit.

Before he thought that he didn’t really need anyone, but now he was beginning to realise that being alone was dreadful. Was he supposed to be like this for the rest of his life? Darron didn’t want this. He wanted to be happy, but fuck he just couldn’t. Whenever he wanted to try, he was shot down with the idea of how unfair it would be for him to be happy after everything.

Was it stupid to think like that? Maybe, but Darron couldn’t really stop himself. Those thoughts were intrusive and inescapable. They always found him whenever he began to hope for something better and again Darron fell down into a dark pit. He wanted to talk to someone so badly, but at the same time his mind wasn’t letting him. It was all so frustrating and Darron just wanted it all to stop.

Though wine didn’t help him all too much to dull his thoughts, Darron still tried to seek solace in it that night. He wanted to see if perhaps this time would be different, but already he could tell that it wouldn’t. It would just make him think of her again, remember everything they’d shared and just sulk over it all. Darron listened to the meaningless voices around him, as he looked around the camp.

With winter, the sun went down much sooner than usual. Now that it was evening, it was already pitch black and all the light came from the fireplaces the men had set up. Everything was covered in an always moving orange tint, as Darron tried to seek for something. Maybe he hoped to see her sitting there, looking as pretty as she always had. Darron was pulled out of his thoughts when someone sat down next to him.

What had happened in the forest with Elias made Darron ashamed. He felt like a horrible person for blaming Elias even a little for what’d happened. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his fault that he replaced her either. Elias had done nothing wrong, and yet Darron had genuinely thought about hurting him just to get out his anger. It was so stupid, and Darron realised that he was being absolutely unreasonable.

“Sir Darron, hi.”

Judging by his tone and voice and the smile on his face, Darron thought that Elias must’ve gotten into the wine as well. He probably wouldn’t want to speak with him otherwise. Darron wouldn’t do it if he were Elias. Had he found someone to help him yet? Darron hoped that he had, because otherwise it would just make him feel guilty all over again.

“Elias,” Darron said as he took another drink from his flask.

"I hope I'm not bothering you."

Had he spoken tonight at all? Darron probably did when he asked for some wine, but other than that he doubted it. Elias wasn’t bothering him, but Darron was afraid that his mind would get the better of him again. He didn’t want to say something stupid or do something horrible. That was the only thing that worried him now, regarding Elias.

“No, no you’re not.”

“How have you been?”

Darron moved his gaze away from Elias then as he looked down at his hands as they fumbled with the flask. That was a harder question than most people realised. Darron always found himself lying whenever people asked him that, though nowadays that was a rarity.

“I’m alright. I’m sorry about what happened before.”

"You shouldn't worry about that anymore. It's okay."

“Did you find someone who can help you?”

“No.”

Like he expected, the guilt found Darron again. Elias had wanted to learn so badly and he would’ve been successful if only he had someone by his side. Darron knew he had been terribly selfish for what had happened, and he was fighting his mind as he tried to figure out how to fix this. Elias didn’t seem to be angry at him, but Darron was. He wanted to make it better and stop being such a fool about everything.

“Maybe we could try again sometime. If you want.”

​

 

[scoorpiuuss]

For the past month, all that Elias had thought about was Antra. The idea of learning how to fight had drifted away from his mind. After what had happened with Sir Darron it almost felt wrong to keep trying. He had thought Darron was the only opportunity he had at learning how to fight. Since he hadn’t wanted to teach him anymore, Elias was left feeling rather helpless and lost about the situation, not bothering with trying to find someone else.

That was perhaps foolish of Elias as he understood how important it was for him to learn, but at the same time, he had enjoyed himself so much with Darron. There was no way someone else would be as willing to teach him as Darron had been. It was a shame, but Elias had come to understand that he couldn’t force Darron into teaching him. No matter how much he wanted to, he had somewhat given up on that idea by now.

It wasn’t until Elias saw Darron again one night that the thoughts of their conversation rushed into his mind. He knew that the knight wasn’t looking for friendship, but Elias couldn’t help it. There was something about him that comforted his need to feel at home, and now that Elias already felt the wine he had been drinking rush through his veins, it was so easy for his body to change its direction and walk towards Darron.

For a moment Elias had expected to be pushed away, or perhaps get punched, but it didn’t seem like Darron minded his company as Elias sat down next to him. There was a stupid smile on his face. The wine was perhaps making him too joyous, but he couldn’t help that either. Being friendly laid in his nature, and it had almost always been that way, and it only seemed to be heightened whenever he was on the verge of being drunk.

Once on the topic about fighting, he did want to be honest with Darron and tell him that he hadn’t attempted to find someone who could have helped him. Though when Darron offered to try again sometime, that thought quickly left Elias’ mind. Gods, he felt so foolish sitting there with his stupid smile and a flask of wine in his hand. Why did the idea excite him so much? Perhaps it was because of how much he missed Arthor.

“Of course, I’d enjoy that.”

Elias looked at him as Darron nodded, and there was something awkward about him as he spoke, "good."

“I have a rather famous story from the South if you want to hear.”

"Well, go ahead. It's not like I have anything better to do."

The number of times Elias had told that story couldn’t be counted on his fingers. It had become a habit of his whenever he was drinking. People always tended to laugh, but likely at how absurd it was. He doubted it was true, but ever since he had heard it for someone, that story hadn’t left his mind, and just thinking about it made him smile at how many good memories he had from telling it to others, even if it was a stupid story.

“You have to imagine yourself a beautiful whore. She was quite famous with the men, but some say she wasn’t quite pleased with what men had to offer her. As displeased as she became, there seemed to be only one solution for her longing need to feel pleased, and one evening the stable boy got quite the show as he caught her with one of his donkeys,” he said, telling his stupid story with a bright smile on his face.

Though it was a stupid story, Elias couldn’t help but love it. Even if others would find it weird, and perhaps very disgusting to listen to, it always seemed to brighten the mood between people. That was sort of what he was hoping for to happen between Darron and him. He did want them to become friends, or at least to some extent where they could talk to each other without it feeling awkward, and this story seemed perfect for that.

"One of his donkeys."

“I hear she was very pleased. That donkey must have treated her well.”

"So that's what Southerners get up to."

“My advice to you, never go there. You can’t trust that you’ll be able to live up to the Southerner's high expectations. Clearly the whores there are quite experimental.”

A slight chuckle came from Darron before Elias saw him raise his flask to drink. That was enough to make Elias feel good about himself even if it had slightly sounded like a scoff. Perhaps he’d had too much wine because it felt like it was already getting to his head as he raised to take a sip from his own wine. Hopefully Antra wouldn’t come looking for him, but he doubted she would as he assumed she was busy with Lady Aryana.

“Have I completely ruined your opinion about Southerners?”

"I can't say it's ever been very high."

“Ouch,” Elias scoffed, shaking his head at his words.

Those words didn’t hurt Elias, neither did they bother him. He couldn’t care less about what people would think about Southerners or anyone for that matter. It would be pointless to care about such little things as that, and to Elias they were only having fun, joking around with each other even though Darron seemed to be a little awkward still. With a bit more wine and some time though, Elias hoped Darron would open up to the idea of friendship.

“Do you have any stories?”

 

[desti]

The wine did help for once, as Darron didn’t feel too threatened by Elias’ company, or whatever it had been that made him feel so awkward before. He still felt slightly uncomfortable, but he forced himself to endure it because he wanted to do better. Elias truly seemed like a kind man, and Darron wanted to at least pretend with him and not make him upset or anything.

Now, the story about the whore and the donkey was strange. It was distracting, though, so Darron didn’t really mind Elias telling it. So far he’d only heard a story about an Eastern whore and a horse, which must’ve been related to Elias’ story about the Southern whore’s adventures. If Darron would’ve been more drunk, then perhaps Elias would’ve earned a true laugh from him, but all he could was a chuckle that really was more a scoff than anything.

“Do you have any stories?”

There were some Darron vaguely remembered, but he didn’t know how to tell them anymore. He used to always crack jokes and tell wild stories around campfires to his friends, but those days were long gone. Darron couldn’t remember half of them anymore, and for some reason that saddened him.

“No,” Darron replied, shaking his head as he raised the flask to his mouth again.

"That's a shame."

“You can tell any other stories you have, if you want.”

"I wouldn't want to completely destroy the chances of you feeling comfortable with Southerners."

Really, Darron just wasn’t sure what else to talk to Elias about. He would’ve much rather given him a chance to speak and ramble on about whatever mischief Southern whores got up to, while he himself would speak a minimal amount. That sounded like a great idea to Darron, but now Elias ruined it. Because Darron didn’t want to sit in an awkward silence, he tried to rummage through his mind to find something to talk about.

“Do you miss the South?”

"Yes. I thought I would get used to it by now, but I guess not."

Meanwhile Darron didn’t really care for the East all that much. He didn’t really feel at home anywhere anymore. Living with the Faersons was nice, but it wasn’t like it used to be. There was nothing wrong with it, but Darron just felt out of place everywhere he went. He didn’t even want to imagine how lost he’d be after the war would end. Then hopefully he’d return to service with Lord Aeron, because otherwise Darron would have no idea where to go.

“The war is going to end soon enough and then you’ll get to go back to your Southern whores.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Darron couldn’t get himself to laugh about it to really make that clear. Elias did laugh though, and that made Darron feel nice. There was something about his company that just began to make Darron feel comfortable all of a sudden. He realised he wanted to stay here with Elias longer, because suddenly he wasn’t alone anymore. It was a nice feeling, and Darron actually enjoyed it, even if he didn’t want to admit that.

"I'm sure they're waiting for me. Donkeys must get rather boring over time."

“I’m sure they do.”

"What about you? Do you have whores waiting for you to come back from the war?"

To that question, Darron just shook his head and turned his gaze away again. Obviously it was more of a joke than anything, but it just made Darron realise that he had nobody. That was so fucking stupid, and Darron realised that it was all his fault. Could Elias speak of something else? Darron suddenly missed the story about the donkey and the whore way too much, and he drank some wine as he tried to remember it.

“Are you okay?” Elias asked and Darron felt his hand on his shoulder.

As he lowered his hand and the flask, Darron turned his head to look at the hand as though it was something strange. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated it or even felt comfortable with it, so Darron just nodded his head and hoped that that would prompt Elias to move his hand away.

“I’m alright.”

It did work and Elias pulled his hand away while he nodded at that, and Darron looked away from it again. Why was Elias being so kind to him? It was making Darron feel awkward, because he knew he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t know Elias, he hadn’t made an effort to get to know him. Why had he even come to him tonight? At the same time, Darron didn’t want to know and he just wanted Elias to stay here with him.

“Tell me something.”

"I have a good friend in the South. We found enough evidence together to accuse the King of murder."

The smile on his face then didn’t really fit with what he was telling him. It almost made it seem like a joke again and Darron wasn’t entirely sure if he was serious or not. Either way, Darron went along with it, “and how did that turn out?”

"I'm not too sure about the details, but the Queen got executed."

“Then that didn’t quite turn out as planned.”

"No, but I was here during the trials, so I don't know too much about what happened. I remember thinking my friend had died. He got badly hurt because the Queen had requested a trial by combat."

“Is your friend as good at sword fighting as you?”

When Elias’ smile seemed a little strange, Darron realised his mistake. He had come off rude again, undoubtedly. That hadn’t been his intention, obviously, but it had happened and now Darron cursed himself because this was what he had tried to avoid the whole time they had been talking.

“Sorry.”

"Don't worry about it."

Now Darron felt uncomfortable again as he shifted in his seat and drank some more wine, turning his head to look at the fire again. The heat coming from it was noticeable even from where he was sitting, and it felt oppressing suddenly, even though it had been comforting before. The wine in his blood likely didn’t help with that either.

"Your friend. Is he alright?”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

The topic of Arthor usually made Elias happy. They were so close, and they had many memories together. If there was something Elias missed most about the South, it was Arthor. He was irreplaceable. Though Elias was thankful for this opportunity because he would have never met Antra, he did miss Santrella. He missed Lady Carlys and Lady Leanah too. Soon he knew he would be missing Antra and the rest of the Rhynes. It would be painful, but at least Elias would have so many memories with everyone to remember them by once he had to leave.

Now the topic only made Elias somewhat upset. It was partially because of Darron’s attempt to joke about it, but also because he realised how much he missed Arthor, and how frightened and distraught he had been when he thought Arthor had died. Those weren’t nice memories, and Elias wanted to focus on the nice ones. In the end, it wasn’t Darron’s fault for the sudden sadness that washed over Elias. It was his own fault for talking about Arthor.

No matter who’s fault it was, Elias was only glad when Darron asked about Arthor. Though they were still on the topic of him, it made him feel somewhat better that Darron seemed to care. Elias took another sip of his wine as he thought about Darron’s question. It seemed so long ago since he had received a letter, and with wine in his blood, Elias couldn’t seem to remember the last time he had sent a letter or if he even had sent one.

“Yes,” he nodded and kept his gaze on Darron.

"That's good."

Darron raised his hand, clapping it against his should and Elias gave him a slight smile at that before Darron turned away. It was so difficult for him to understand Darron. There was something strange about him, and he acted so distant that it seemed like Elias could have tried forever to befriend him, but he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. Perhaps it would be better if he gave up, but Elias didn’t want that.

“Have you always been distant?”

At that, Darron shook his head, and Elias knew better than to keep digging. He had seen what happened last time, but he had somewhat lost control over his own body because of the wine, and now it didn’t seem like he was able to stop. He was so curious, and it wasn’t good for either of them. Perhaps now he would get a punch like he had expected earlier, but he hoped that maybe Darron would open up to him.

“What happened?”

Again Darron shook his head, and Elias watched him as he drank more of his wine. He didn’t even understand why he was so curious about Darron. They weren’t friends, that was clear to Elias even if he was mildly drunk. It had to be because Darron interested him and that Elias genuinely liked his company. But no matter how curious he was he knew he had to stop asking. It was only making it awkward.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Elias felt relieved when Darron shook his head for the third time, but this time he knew he was welcome there with him, even if he wasn’t very talkative. That didn’t bother him. Elias raised his hand to Darron’s shoulder once again. Gods, he was so used to Arthor touching and embracing him whenever he was drunk, and now he was sitting there stroking his hand over Darron’s shoulder as if they were close friends.

It looked like Darron was occupied with his own thoughts as Elias was busy with his. Perhaps it would have been better if he had stayed with Antra tonight, but now he started to feel a slight need to prove to Darron that he would be there for him. It was stupid, and Elias didn’t understand why. At least Darron accepted his touch.

“If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.”

"I don't think that'd be a great idea."

“Why?”

"The less people know about it the better."

“I suppose if that is how you feel about it. I won’t pressure you, but the offer is still there.”

"Thank you."

Elias pulled his hand away from Darron and took another sip of his wine. There wouldn’t be a point in pressuring him, and it seemed like a better idea to just drink the night away now without having to worry about Arthor or whatever else his mind would make him worry about. Gods, maybe he needed Antra to come find him. That way he would have an excuse to leave now. He wanted to feel comfortable with Darron, but it was rather difficult.

“I think I need more wine,” Elias sighed, taking the last sip of what was left of his wine.

"Me too."

“Give me that. I’ll go get some.”

As Elias took the flask from Darron, he rose to his feet, feeling how drunk he actually was. It didn’t matter. He needed more wine, and he stumbled away from the fire and Darron as he went to get more for them. The world around him grew blurry. It was quite the struggle to get their flasks filled up, and Elias wasn’t quite sure how he had accomplished it as he was already returning to the fire. It felt like he had walked for hours, but in reality, he had barely been gone for more than a few minutes.

“Hi,” Elias mumbled as he sat down next to Darron again.

 

[desti]

Perhaps Darron would’ve liked to talk about it. He knew for certain that he eventually would go to Rhea’s siblings to clear everything up. It was the right thing to do, he knew it, and those were the people Darron knew for sure would have to find out about this. Elias, though, well he barely knew the man. Darron didn’t know how he’d react to something like that and, besides, they were in much too crowded of a space to speak of something like that.

When Elias left to get more wine for them, Darron got some peace and quiet again. He heard the other men laugh and speak much too loud again, and suddenly he wanted Elias to come back sooner. It was stupid, he didn’t deserve to be in his company. Elias was a kind man, he shouldn’t bother with someone like Darron. Still, selfishly Darron wanted to spend time with him because he made him not feel completely pathetic.

Finally, the other man came back again. Darron reached for one of the flasks he had brought with him and took a sip. Was he drinking too much? His mind was feeling clouded, but it was still rushing with thoughts. That alone made Darron want to drink until he’d black out, but he could already tell that he’d have trouble walking back to his tent. If he’d drink a lot more, then he’d surely just stay here for the night.

“Hi.”

Then Elias didn’t really reply and for a moment they sat in silence before Darron looked over to him. It seemed like Elias was very distracted by the flames dancing in front of them. In a way, it was a little amusing, but Darron wondered if he had managed to upset him again.

“Are you alright?”

"Yes, but I feel very drunk," Elias said and chuckled, looking at Darron.

Elias wasn’t upset, which made Darron glad. Though he did look at the flask in his hands suspiciously, thinking of whether or not he should take it away from Elias. Darron didn’t know how much he had had to drink before he came to him, but he suspected that he might’ve had quite a bit.

“I should probably take that wine away from you then.”

"No, don't. I'll take yours then."

That wasn’t something Darron wanted, though perhaps it would’ve been for the better. It would’ve been far better if he’d just get up now and go to bed while he still could. Instead of doing that, Darron shook his head and took another drink from the sour wine in his flask.

"It would be fair."

“I’m not going to take your wine.”

“Good.”

“How much wine have you had?”

"Does it matter?"

“I suppose not,” Darron shrugged as he drank from his flask.

"I should get to my tent soon though, before I end up in the snow somewhere."

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.”

"My tent or the snow?"

The question confused Darron and he stared at his flask for a little bit, furrowing his brow. How much wine had he had? Certainly way too much, since he was growing more dull by the second. Darron already wasn’t the sharpest when he was sober, but drunk he always made a fool of himself. He didn’t really care, though.

“Both?”

"Join me then."
Again it made Darron confused and he tilted his head a little, “what?”

"You could walk with me to my tent,” Elias chuckled.

Well, it would definitely be something good Darron could do. Elias had been so kind to him the whole evening, so the least he could do was make sure that he didn’t fall and fall asleep in his own vomit. Besides, Darron didn’t want to be alone just yet. After Elias would make it to his tent, he’d get back to his own, hopefully, and then pass out until late tomorrow. That sounded like a good plan to Darron.

“Alright,” Darron shrugged.

“Thank you,” Elias smiled.

“Wouldn’t want you to fall and break your neck.”

"That would be tragic. You're so kind, Darron,” Elias said and the corners of Darron’s lips twitched upwards a little when he heard him laugh.

“Knights are supposed to help those in need,” Darron shrugged and his joke sounded so stupid that he wanted to punch himself in the face.

With that, Elias got up from his seat easier than Darron would’ve expected him to. He didn’t remember the last time he had stood up, so his legs felt a bit numb as he finally got up along with Elias. Darron stumbled a little bit, but regained his balance. Elias was laughing, but Darron wasn’t sure if it was at him or because of something else and he didn’t really care either way.

"Don't forget your wine,” Elias said before he began walking.

To Darron, it seemed like he was walking ridiculously fast. Maybe it was just because of how heavy all of his limbs suddenly felt. When was the last time he’d slept through the night? Darron hoped that he could sleep for many hours after he’d finally lay down. That was such a wonderful thought and he kept it in the back of his head as he caught up with Elias, failing to walk in a straight line.

A silence set in between them, but Darron didn’t really like it so he looked over at Elias and shrugged, “sorry if I’m a dick. I don’t mean to be.”

"Would I want to be your friend if I thought that about you?"

“Well, I don’t know what kind of people you call friends, so maybe.”

"You're not a dick."

“If you say so. You’re very kind, Elias,” Darron mumbled as he raised his flask and drank some more, though a little wine spilled, but he didn't really care, “I’m sorry I didn’t like you at first.”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

If it had been someone else walking beside Elias now, he knew what would have happened once they had reached his tent. It was foolish of him to think about that now, but whenever he was drunk, his mind would race with pathetic thoughts that he likely would forget about or regret in the morning. Now the idea he’d had earlier of Antra finding him didn’t sound too good either. Elias knew too well that he would have ended up doing something stupid, or saying something stupid. It was much better to embarrass himself in front of Darron.

The company Darron had to offer Elias though didn’t sound too bad. For a moment Elias wondered if they could have sat down in his tent and talked for the rest of the evening until the early morning. That wouldn’t be a good idea considering the meetings he likely had, but considering how things were going now, Elias knew he would feel horrible tomorrow. The wine would make sure of that, and he would regret everything.

Gods, if only Arthor had been here now for them to drink themselves stupid together. Elias would have loved to hold him close to him, feel how his facial hair tickled his skin, which would make him chuckle and want to kiss him. Whenever he was drunk, Elias knew he loved his friend a little too much. As long as he didn’t take that out on Darron. Antra would have likely helped him, but he wasn’t sure where she was now or if she was awake.

“You intimidated me at first. I thought you were going to beat me up.”

"I kind of did."

“Did you enjoy it?”

"Not really."

At the moment Elias couldn’t really recall what had happened between them as they were fighting. He could somewhat remember Darron pushing him up against a tree, but his mind was so clouded that nothing seemed to make sense to him. It didn’t matter what had happened between them in the past. Elias was over it, and he didn’t think Darron was a bad person. Perhaps he was a little rude, but Elias didn’t mind.

“Don’t beat me up again then.”

"I'll try not to."

“I don’t mind,” he smiled.

"What?"

Elias turned to look at Darron then with an even bigger smile tugging at his lips. He had no control over the words that left his lips, and he was fairly sure that he was joking, but perhaps Darron didn’t understand that. Darron looked rather confused which only made Elias laugh. He shook his head slightly as he focused on looking at where he was walking to avoid tripping over something or making a fool of himself even more.

“I’m joking.”

"Ah."

“Or am I?” Elias asked as he once again turned to look at Darron with his eyebrow raised.

"Are you?"

Elias sighed, “I wonder.”

It was as if another person had taken control over his body. Elias often felt like that whenever he’d had too much to drink. The words that came out of his mouth didn’t sound like how he’d usually be whenever he was sober. Hopefully they would both forget about this tomorrow. That would save him from a lot of embarrassment from how he was acting towards Darron. He would likely feel bad for him in the morning.

"Well, tell me when you figure it out, I guess."

“I will.”

Silence fell between them, and Elias didn’t mind it as he tried to focus on where he was walking. Out of nowhere did he feel Darron push him, and because of how drunk he was he stumbled more than he should have, reaching to grasp onto Darron, who was also stumbling. All sense of balance had been lost, and he was holding onto Darron as he feared that he could still fall over. He heard Darron chuckle a little, making Elias stop as he turned to look at him with a stupid grin on his face. Before thinking, Elias pushed Darron away from him, getting revenge.

Darron chuckled again, and Elias was laughing. At that, he raised his hands to push them against Darron’s chest. This was stupid since they were both drunk and it would have been very easy for them to end up falling over and staying in the snow unless someone found them. And then Darron did fall down against the snow, and now Elias was laughing so much that his stomach was aching. Still he reached out a hand for Darron as he tried to calm down at how funny he had looked. But it didn’t seem like that had been a smart move.

Before Elias could react, Darron had pulled on his arm, causing him to fall down into the snow as well. He was still laughing as he felt how the cold snow was making his clothes slightly wet. It was in his hair as well, and fuck, he was for sure still not use to the cold.

“That was rude.”

"You did it first."

“I’m pretty sure you started,” he chuckled as he hit his hand against Darron’s shoulder before letting his body down against the snow. It was stupid, so fucking stupid, but he had no idea how he would get up again. The snow felt weirdly comfortable.

 

[desti]

It was so forgotten that his own laugh sounded strange to Darron. He laid in the cold, wet snow and laughed quietly from how stupid everything was. At the same time, Darron felt like he might cry, though, and that definitely wasn’t something that he wanted to do. So instead, he laughed and resisted the urge to shove some snow into Elias’ face, even though it sounded fun to do.

Whenever Darron drank, he would always do something stupid, usually it involved fighting. Obviously he hadn’t hit Elias or anything, but that was usually what Darron got up to. He wasn’t quite sure why, but it just sounded so fun to drunk him. Something about punching and getting punched was just riveting, apparently.

For a while, Darron just laid there until he felt his body grow a bit too uncomfortable. At first the snow had felt soft and nice, but now it was just getting hard below him and making his clothes too wet. If he’d lay here for much longer, then Darron would surely regret it and so would Elias. Since he knew better, Darron forced himself to get up from the ground. It sounded a lot easier than it actually was.

When Darron finally managed, it felt like hours had passed of him struggling to get his balance back. He was still clutching onto his flask like a lifeline, and chuckling quietly as he turned to look over at Elias. Darron saw his hand reach out for him, and he leant down to grasp him around his forearm and try and pull him up. Usually, it wouldn’t cause him much trouble, but with the wine making his head spin he struggled again.

Though Elias was trying to help, Darron thought that it didn’t really influence anything that much. It was mostly him doing the work. He chuckled a little and looked at Elias, “are you alright?”

“Yes, are you?”

“Yes.”

Darron grinned a little and clapped Elias on the shoulder before letting go of him and stumbling backwards a little. Though he didn’t really get far, because before Elias started walking, he pulled Darron right back to him. He chuckled a little and stumbled, bumping into Elias more than one time as they walked. Darron tried to drink some more wine, but none of it seemed to quite pour into his mouth.

Apparently, his struggles were noticed by Elias, because his arm moved around him and Darron didn’t really hesitate to lean onto him as his own arm move around the man. It felt like he had two left feet as he tried to make his way through the snow, and now Darron had no clue how in the world he would ever manage to get back to his tent. He really shouldn’t drink that much, considering how much of a lightweight he really was.

Elias hadn’t helped much before, but now Darron felt like he was only still upright because of him. He saw a tent approaching, and he thought it looked mighty like his. It probably was his, right? It must’ve been. Gods, Darron hoped so because he wanted to fucking sleep.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Surely Darron would manage on his own now. It was only a few steps to his bed and then he would be fine. Well, until the morning would come and he would be greeted by a pounding headache. Right now, though, Darron felt nice. When he drank alone, he just found himself so lonely and covered in painful memories, but now that hadn’t been the case. He was glad that Elias had sat down by him.

“I’ll go sleep now,” Darron mumbled more to himself as he made his way towards the tent, pulling away from Elias’ grasp.

The tent looked a little weird to him, but just as messy as Darron’s. Maybe he just rearranged things and forgot about it. He didn’t remember having a desk or any books, but Darron didn’t really pay much attention. His focus was on the bed and he plopped down on it, throwing the almost empty flask on the ground as he turned around to lay on his stomach with his limbs sprawled out on the mattress.

“Darron.”

What was Elias still doing here? He should get back to his tent. Darron recalled that that was where they were initially headed, but he thought that Elias would manage just fine to get there on his own. He seemed more capable than Darron, at least. Darron let out a small grunt as a reply as he unwillingly turned his head to look over at Elias. His eyes felt so heavy, he thought if he’d close them, he’d surely fall asleep.

"Do you want to stay?"

“I should ask you that.”

"Do you want me to stay?”

“You can do what you want,” Darron mumbled against the pillow, shrugging his shoulders.

“You sure?"
Elias came over to stand by the bed as he looked down at Darron. All he did was answer by nodding his head a little, but not really moving an inch. If Elias wanted to stay, then he could maybe sleep on that chair Darron didn’t remember having. He definitely didn’t want to move now that he was laying so comfortably. But Elias began to ruin that when he felt him push him, probably to make some room for himself.

“Hey…” Darron mumbled.

"Be nice, I'm letting you stay."

“Thank you for letting me stay in my tent.”

Was it his tent? Now Elias was making him doubt himself as he raised his head to truly look around it. Darron knew for sure that his bed was on the opposite side usually. Again the desk and the chair and those fucking books made him wonder what was more logical - someone bringing them into his tent while he was away or Darron being in the wrong tent.

"You're welcome."

Now Darron was growing suspicious and he looked at Elias with his eyebrow raised. It must’ve been his tent, but still Darron somehow managed to doubt that. But he decided to be kind, because Elias had been very helpful tonight, and moved to give him some room to lay down. The mattress sank down as Elias laid down on his side, and Darron chuckled a little. Because the bed was too small for two men, Elias’ leg was resting a little on top of his, but Darron didn’t really care all that much.

“You’re very kind, Elias,” Darron nodded, “sorry that I’m not.”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore to Elias. Darron was supposed to walk with him to his tent, but instead, Darron was acting as if this was his own tent. Elias wouldn’t mind the company if Darron wanted to stay with him. Perhaps it would become rather awkward in the morning, but usually, Elias wasn’t the one for confrontation. He’d likely ignore it and pretend like nothing had happened because, in reality, nothing had happened. Darron was only laying on his bed, and Elias was laying next to him with his leg resting over Darron’s thigh.

If anything Elias honestly would have preferred Darron to stay. Since it was likely way too late to try to find Antra, Elias was happy to have Darron lay next to him. It always felt nice with company no matter how strange it probably looked. Though while he laid there, weird thoughts rushed through his mind, and for a moment he had almost gotten too tempted to cross some boundaries with Darron, but even if he was drunk, he knew better.

At one point Elias could imagine himself reaching over to pull Darron closer to him, but luckily he was too weak to even move his body to attempt something so foolish. He was so fucking thankful he knew better because he knew he didn’t want to make the morning more awkward for them. But Arthor wouldn’t have minded, and Arthor kept rushing into his thoughts, making him imagine such things with Darron as well. Gods, he really had to stop drinking. It clearly wasn’t good for him as all he wanted was to be Darron’s friend, not something else.

“Don’t worry about that, Darron,” he mumbled.

"Alright."

“I’m sure you have your reasons.”

"I suppose I do. It's not an excuse, though."

Even drunk Elias thought about what they had discussed earlier, or more what he had tried to discuss. There was a reason to why Darron was so distant, and though Elias didn’t know that reason he understood. Perhaps something had happened to him which caused him to act the way he did. Elias knew that because of the harshness he had faced through his life he had decided to be gentle towards people.

“You’re kind now. That’s what matters.”

"I'm drunk now,” Darron chuckled.

Elias raised his head slightly to look at him then, “does that mean you’ll be rude tomorrow?”

"I'll try not to be rude to you."

“That would break my heart.”

At that Elias laid his head down again, moving a little closer to Darron, even though he should have fucking known better. What was he trying to do? Hold him? Elias wasn’t sure what was going on anymore, or why he was acting like this. It had to be the wine that was making him genuinely want to stay close to Darron. Either that or the fact that he missed both Antra and Arthor right now, and he was taking that out on Darron.

"I'll try to be nice."

“Thank you.”

"You're welcome,” Darron chuckled.

Elias should have stopped himself as he raised his hand and put it over Darron’s back, stroking his fingers along his spine, but as soon as Elias had closed his eyes, he wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. All the wine he’d had was getting to his head, and making him so fucking stupid. When Darron stopped him, Elias should have thanked him. Perhaps Darron wasn’t as drunk as him, or perhaps what Elias was doing wasn’t normal at all no matter what.

“Sorry,” Elias mumbled, moving a little away from Darron again.

"It's alright."

Was it? Elias wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Everything was confusing to him, but at least he knew that it had to be the wine. There was no other explanation as to why he had tried to hold Darron. Gods, he was drunk. His head hurt so badly, and it hurt even more while he tried to figure out why he acted like this towards Darron. At that Elias decided it would be for the better if he tried to sleep, but then he felt Darron grab onto his arm before pulling Elias closer to him. That made Elias open his eyes again as a smile tugged at his lips.

So many wrong thoughts rushed through his mind again. Elias could have leaned forward and done something incredibly foolish, but he didn’t. Instead he pulled Darron closer to him as well, wrapping his arm around him, while his leg stayed hooked over his thigh. It felt so nice and comfortable when Darron wrapped his arm around him. Elias didn’t want to let go of him now, closing his eyes as he felt no boundaries anymore. This had to be a reminder to him in the morning that he had to stop drinking so much wine. This was stupid.

“You’re cold,” Elias mumbled.

"You're not very warm either."

“I’m tired.”

"Me too."

“I will sleep now.”

Darron nodded then, "me too."

Elias felt too tired to open his mouth again to say something else to Darron. It was for the better either way. His body felt so heavy, and he was glad, because he was almost too aware of what stupid things he would have done if he’d had enough energy to do it. All Elias could think about now thought was how fucking comforted he felt by Darron’s embrace, and he felt so peaceful as he laid there. Tomorrow he’d regret it, but for now, he was happy that Darron was staying with him, even if Darron had made his stupid mind rush with stupid thoughts.

 

[desti]

Unpleasant Surprises.
Chapter XCI
House Rhyne
May all be as one
Nilfgaard, Northern lands of Aedighar
​

For some stupid reason, Brynden almost thought that sending Sarisa away would mend things between him and Aryana. It didn’t. It really just felt like things had somehow even gotten worse, in a way. If before, Aryana would at least fight with him, now she just ignored him altogether. It felt like nothing Brynden would do would ever make things better, and he was almost nearing giving up.

It had only really been a month, but already it just felt so fucking hopeless. Antra tried to tell him that he just had to be patient, but Brynden felt like that would get him nowhere. He wanted to try, but, since it was getting nowhere, Brynden started to do it less and less. Instead he just kept burying himself in work and the letters coming back from Nilfgaard gave him enough headaches as it seemed like food there wasn’t as high as they thought it was.

Every day he thought of her though, and just how badly he’d fucked things up. Since Lord Aeron wasn’t fond of the idea of the betrothal being ended once more, Brynden figured there was no way out of it. He just felt bad for Aryana and how she’d be stuck with him. She was a sweet girl, she didn’t deserve to marry someone she fucking loathed. It was horrible for both of them, really.

Brynden almost hoped the war would drag on for longer so he wouldn’t have to worry about this for a while longer. Though with how things were going so far, Brynden guessed that soon enough it would all be over. Maybe he should’ve felt happy about that, but he felt nothing. Not even the thought of killing the King excited him. Brynden just felt that he had a duty to finish this and that was what he planned to do. He didn’t get any joy out of it, though.

The days pulled every bit of energy out of him, and Brynden tried to sleep as much as he could. He was a light sleeper though, and everyone outside his tent always felt so loud. Some nights he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all, and that had been the case for most of this week. Brynden felt fucking horrible, his body felt sore and aching all of the time and it just felt like he couldn’t concentrate.

Tonight, though, tonight he had been blessed with sleep. It was like the Gods finally took mercy upon him and allowed him to rest for a few blissful hours. Brynden laid down the second he got back from a meeting, even if it had been still rather early. He was just so fucking tired, there was no way he could stay up for a moment longer. When Brynden finally hit the bed, he fell asleep almost instantly.

Now, Brynden had hoped to lay there until sunrise. He hoped that he would get enough rest to last him a few days awake again. Of course that didn’t happen. How could it? Then Brynden would be far too lucky. No, instead he woke up with a sharp pain coming from his shoulder. At first he thought it might’ve popped out somehow during his sleep, but it was more to the left and felt different.

In his tiredness, it took Brynden way too long to realise that it was a bit more serious than that. His hand moved to touch where it hurt, and his shoulder felt covered with something sticky and warm. Only then did Brynden really wake up and twist around while sitting up, only to see someone standing by his bed, apparently ready to stab him with whatever they were holding once more.

It didn’t seem big enough to be a man, which confused him. Would someone really send a woman to kill him? But Brynden didn’t waste much time to think about how it didn’t make sense. Suddenly, his shoulder didn’t ache anymore and he grabbed onto the attacker, pulling them down onto the bed, and pinning their arms by their head as he moved to straddle them. Brynden’s hazy vision cleared and he got used to the darkness, and only then he could make out the face that was below him.

“What the fuck, Aryana?” he grunted quietly as he felt her struggle against him and even try and kick him.

“Get off me.”

“Get off you? You fucking stabbed me, Aryana. The fuck?”

“You deserve it.”

“Gods, Aryana,” Brynden mumbled as he let go of Aryana, but grabbed the dagger from her just for safety reasons.

Apparently, she wanted it back because she tried to get it out of his grasp. What the fuck was going on? Perhaps Brynden was dreaming. That’d be good. But the blood trickling down his back felt all too real and he could feel small shocks of pain every time he moved his arm. The real pain hadn’t really kicked in yet, but he figured it’d come soon enough.

Obviously he didn’t let her get the dagger. Brynden sat up slightly on her hips as he held it away from her, “what, do you want to stab me again?”

“Yes.”

“Gods, Aryana,” Brynden repeated as he wiped the blade off against his trousers, “what the fuck…”

“You hurt me.”

“I’m sorry, when did I stab you?”

"You hurt my feelings."

“And you hurt my back,” Brynden mumbled as he moved off of her and got up.

Still with the dagger in hand, he went to find his shirt so that he could wipe the blood off of himself and stop it altogether. Brynden needed to deal with this before he could even think about dealing with Aryana. For once, he wasn’t exactly glad to see Aryana. She must be absolutely mad if she thought stabbing him was the answer to this. At least Brynden hoped it made her feel better, but it sure as fuck didn’t make him feel great.

​

 

[scoorpiuuss]

The dagger felt light in her hands. Aryana slid the sharp edge against the tip of her finger. It was a small weapon, but she was aware of how deadly it could be. She sat at the edge of her bed, the curtains of her tent were open and cool air from outside was rushing in. Blood rushed to her cheeks and a tint of red spread across her face. Even her fingers felt numb, trembling as she grasped around the cold handle, getting familiar with the weight of the dagger. It was perfect. She didn’t doubt what damage she could cause with it, and that made her glad.

There was a cup on the small table in her tent. I had been filled once, or perhaps twice, with wine, but now it was empty. Never had she been especially fond of wine. It was something she drank during feasts or other special occasions, but never had she drank it for the sole purpose of drowning her sorrows. It felt rather nice. A little sour, but it made her feel warm, comforted. All while a slight buzz rushed through her veins, getting to her head.

A short walk was all it took Aryana before she stood inside his tent. Brynden laid on the bed, and she watched him, moving towards his bed. The hatred she felt for him had spilt over. There was no control left in her as she looked down at him sleeping peacefully. For a month her emotions had become so overwhelming that her only solution was the dagger. Brynden deserved it. He deserved the pain and the ache. He deserved to be hurt.

Everything happened so fast. One swift movement and the dagger was piercing through his flesh, right in his shoulder. Her hands were trembling again, but now her body was too. Frustration and adrenaline pumped through her body, and before Aryana could think or stop, her fingers were grasping around the handle, pulling the dagger out of Brynden. Blood dripped from it, dripping down onto his bed, and then onto the ground. It also oozed out of his wound, but the sight of blood only made her want more as she raised her hand to stab him again.

Another swift movement and Aryana laid pressed against his bed with Brynden seated on her hips. His hands were tightly grasping her arms. All she saw as she met his gaze was the man who had hurt her. The man who had taken her for granted, played with her emotions as if she was a game to him. Her eyes darkened, her cheeks still flushed, but not from the cold anymore. It clouded her thoughts, and all she could think off was how he deserved this. Every word that left his mouth didn’t matter. He had hurt her.

“You deserved it,” she scoffed.

Her gaze followed him. She watched as Brynden looked around in the tent, and Aryana wanted to stand up as well. The wine and anger had gotten to her. She wanted to hurt him, just like he had hurt her. It was only fair, but all she could do was sit up and pull her legs up on the bed. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and not once did she look away from him. Gods, she loathed him. How would she be able to marry him?

"Stabbing someone is a little much, isn't it?"

That was all it took for Aryana to stand up from the bed. As soon as she was close enough, the palm of her hand shot against his bicep. Violence had never been something she thought fondly of either, but there she stood, hitting the man that was to be her husband. It shouldn’t have surprised her when Brynden grabbed her arms once again, pinning them against the side of her body, but it did, and she wanted him to let her go.

"Aryana."

“I hate you,” she cried out.

"I realise that. But I really need to put something on that wound, alright? Then you can hit me all you want, I promise."

“Let go of me.”

As Brynden let her arms go, Aryana wanted to hit him again, but she didn’t. She stood there, not looking at him anymore. It should have calmed her down, but all she wanted to do was hurt him again and again until his body would ache from the pain she caused him. That was what he had done to her. What he had done had made her ache, and it pained her whenever she thought about it. Was she not good enough for him?

No, it was Brynden who wasn’t good enough for her, but now with the wine and the anger made her wonder if that was true. Perhaps he felt that way, but did it matter, Aryana loathed him. She also loathed herself for getting attached to him. For the brief amount of time they had spent together, she had wanted to marry him. She thought fondly of him, dreamt about his lips against hers, and now all she wanted was to hurt him.

Aryana turned to look at him. He was bandaging himself, but then her gaze began wandering for something else. Once she saw the dagger, it didn’t take her long to move towards it. She reached for it, picking it up before she found herself standing in front of Brynden with the sharp edge of it pressed against his neck. Their gaze met again, and that only made the urge to slit his throat bigger. Would killing him feel good?

"Aryana,” he said.

But Aryana didn’t answer. The idea of marrying him upset her, but at the same time, there was something strange about her emotions. A need for something that she couldn’t understand as the anger was too overwhelming. None of them were saying a word, and Aryana stepped closer to him, pressing the dagger a little against his skin.

"Aryana.”

“I hate you,” Aryana repeated.

 

[desti]

Wouldn’t it be funny if this were to be how Brynden died? The dagger seemed small, but any weapon in the hands of someone capable could be deadly. Now, Brynden didn’t think Aryana was that someone, but it was still interesting to think about. It almost made him chuckle a little when he thought of it. He wouldn’t die in battle, but because of his soon-to-be wife’s anger towards him.

Now that Aryana stood with the dagger pressing against his neck, Brynden thought about how it wasn’t really as sharp as he would’ve thought. Maybe that’s why his shoulder had bled so much, from the dullness of the blade. It was bandaged up now, but now it was starting to ache, and Brynden wanted to drink some wine to dull it, even if it wasn’t that painful, compared to other wounds he’d had.

There was no doubt in Brynden’s mind that yes, Aryana did hate him. But did she hate him enough to actually murder him? Probably not. At least he doubted it. Aryana was sweet, and though she seemed a little drunk, she wasn’t someone to do this. Then again, Brynden only barely knew her, so perhaps he was wrong. But that thought made him want to laugh again. This was stupid.

“I know,” Brynden said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm in an effort to make her calm as well, “I deserve that.”

"I should kill you."

“Well, I’m sure a lot of people would be happy if you were to do that.”

Brynden figured she’d pull away eventually, and Aryana did just that. Though it seemed like she might just stab him again, and Brynden eyed the dagger before looking back at her again. Would she stab him? Brynden figured that he would have enough time to move away then or maybe grab her arm if he’d have to. He was just afraid of hurting her, but he’d try not to do that.

“Put it down, Aryana.”

"Why did you choose her? You knew I was there for you."

That somehow made Brynden a lot more uncomfortable than threats of death. He shifted his gaze away from her then and really almost hoped she’d stab him in the face so he wouldn’t have to answer that. Brynden hadn’t chosen her, not really. It had just… happened. It wasn’t something that he had decided upon, it wasn’t meaningful whatsoever.
“I didn’t choose her. It happened.”

"Am I not good enough?"

“Aryana, it wasn’t like that.”

"I wanted to love you."

With that, Aryana dropped the dagger and stepped away from him. Brynden frowned a little as she said that and felt the shame rise inside of him. It had been so stupid, and he’d even done it another time. Brynden was fucking stupid, he realised that. He knew that he had fucked up and that Aryana likely would never trust him again. He’d ruined everything and for what? Some good sex, and that was really it.

“I’m sorry. I know what I did was horrible. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

"What if she's pregnant?"

That somehow hadn’t occurred to Brynden. What if she was? Brynden realised that if Sarisa would reach out to him, then he’d want to help her out if he could. Though he would want to be good to Aryana, he also wouldn’t want to hurt Sarisa by ignoring her if she were to reach out to him because of a bastard he’d given her. That wouldn’t be fair for her and would be horrible of him to do.

“Then that’s my problem and hers, but not really yours.”

Aryana shook her head at that and walked away from him, and Brynden watched as her hands pushed into her hair. He wanted to comfort her somehow, calm her down, but he wasn’t sure how. She seemed so fucking angry and all over the place, and Brynden had no clue how to deal with this. For fuck’s sake, she’d been pissed enough to actually stab him. Brynden doubted there was anything he could do to make this better.

“It was very stupid, I know,” he said, taking a few steps towards her again.

When Aryana turned around and slapped him, Brynden wasn’t exactly surprised. He nodded a little and looked down, knowing that he deserved all of this. If Aryana would want to, then she could hit him and kick him for the whole night. She seemed angry enough to do that, at least.

"Do my feelings even matter to you?"

“Of course they do, Aryana. I feel so fucking guilty about all of this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

"But you did."

“I know,” Brynden mumbled as he looked at her again, “I know I did, and I’m so sorry.”

"Am I supposed to forgive you?"

“No, and I don’t expect you to.”

"What am I supposed to do then?" Aryana mumbled as she took a step back.

The tears rolling down her cheeks made Brynden feel like absolute shit. He was a fucking horrible person. Aryana deserved someone so much better. Someone who wouldn’t hurt her like this and betray her trust, and yet she was stuck with Brynden. It was so unfair to her, and Brynden felt awful for not being able to do anything about it to help her.

“I don’t know,” Brynden mumbled, “hate me for the rest of your life, I guess.”

"I don't want to be miserable."

“I don’t want that either. You deserve to be happy.”

"I wanted you to be the one to make me happy."

“I’m sorry,” it sounded pathetic, but Brynden didn’t know what else to say to something like that.

"Stop. I'm tired of hearing that."

That was fair enough to Brynden. He was very much tired of saying it over and over again. Now it just sounded so stupid and so meaningless. Those words wouldn’t fix shit, it was stupid of him to think that it would be all it took to get Aryana to trust him again. Nothing would ever do that, and they would be stuck together, being absolutely miserable.

“What am I supposed to say then?”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Those conflicting emotions Aryana held towards the situation felt slightly familiar. Once before she hadn’t been sure what to think about Brynden. Then she had given him a chance and let herself admire him. His courage and strength. The care he had for his people. Everything had seemed so perfect about him until it suddenly wasn’t. No longer did she crave his company or embrace. No longer did she want to marry him. No longer did she want to be loved by him. If anything she wanted to travel far away from him and everyone else, never to be found again.

But that wasn’t true. Aryana longed to be loved.

All that frustration, pain and sadness was all stemming from that. She wanted to feel cared for, protected. That would be his duty as her husband one day. Brynden was the man who was supposed to cherish her and give her the happiness she once felt like she deserved. Ever since their first kiss, she had been hopeful, wondering if he would be that man one day, but those thoughts were overshadowed by her frustration, pain and sadness.

Tears were running down her cheeks. It made her feel pathetic. Aryana didn’t want to cry over Brynden. The stubbornness in her wanted to hate him, and she believed she did, but perhaps that wasn’t true. For a moment she wished he would grab her again, and not to stop her. She wished he would pull her into his arms, hold her and tell her that he cared about her, tell her that he would make her happy, but that didn’t happen.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged.

Aryana couldn’t tell Brynden what he was supposed to do or say. He was causing her so much emotional suffering that she wondered if it would even be worth it to try. Why did she even want to try? She wished she wasn’t emotional now. Then it would have been so much easier. She raised her hands to wipe her tears away, but they wouldn’t stop, and she sobbed quietly, listening to her own trembling breaths as she tried to calm down.

As she looked at him, he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Perhaps he had given up on her. That only made her feel horrible as she thought about that. No matter how much the stubborn side of her wanted him to give up on her so they wouldn’t have to see each other anymore, the fact that she had been attached to him made her want to keep trying. Gods, why was Brynden so difficult? She wanted to stab him all over again.

“Brynden,” Aryana whispered.

He raised his gaze, looking at her, but she felt at a loss of words when their gaze met. There was nothing to say to him anymore. She had said it all. He knew how much he had hurt her. He knew how much he had messed up for them. Perhaps she should have left. Instead of leaving, Aryana stepped forward, and before she could change her mind, she leaned up to press their lips together while the slight salty taste of her tears lingered on her lips.

When Brynden kissed her back, Aryana pulled away. She didn’t understand her own emotions, her thoughts. Everything felt wrong to her, and the wine was only making it more confusing. The way he looked at her then didn’t make it any easier. Why couldn’t he just hold her, stroke his hand over her hair and comfort her? She felt so terribly alone, and it made her take a step back, not meeting his gaze.

A warm hand cupped her cheek. She closed her eyes, tilting her head slightly towards the hand as she raised her own to place over it. Brynden wiped her tears away, and Aryana caught her bottom lip between her teeth. His movements were careful as she felt him pulling her into a hug. Here they had been arguing and maybe what she had needed all along was physical comfort, not meaningless words.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around him, feeling his warm skin against the palm of her hands.

"You have nothing to apologise for,” he mumbled, and she felt his hands stroking over her hair.

“I stabbed you.”

"I deserved it."

Now Brynden held her so close to him, but Aryana slightly worried she was hurting him. Though that had been what she had wanted just a few moments ago, it wasn’t anymore. In the morning there was a chance she would regret this, but for now, she was letting him comfort her. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but she wasn’t giving it to him either. She was just in need of comfort, and she knew it would take a long time for her to trust him again.

“I feel like I can never trust you.”

There was no answer, but it was better that way. Aryana focused on tracing her fingers along his spine, sighing deeply at the sensation of his close embrace. He made her feel so many emotions at once. It was rather frustrating, but at least this comfort was somewhat easing her mind. Then Brynden spoke again, and Aryana knew that she would have much rather preferred the silence.

"You deserve so much better than this."

“Then prove to me that you can give me what I deserve.”

Brynden pulled away slightly, and Aryana opened her eyes to meet his gaze as he stroked her hair, “how?”

“Do what you’re doing right now. Care for me.”

Aryana raised her hand, letting her finger stroke against his cheek and down to his bottom lip. Carefully, she traced it along his lips, before moving her hand to rest against his shoulder. Wasn’t care and comfort what she deserved? That would be a start, wouldn’t it? Perhaps she was too hopeful, and a little too drunk to really think this through, but she wanted him to treat her kindly and with respect.

 

[desti]

Of course Brynden could care for her, show her that he would be able to be a good husband. Really, that had been what he tried to do ever since the mistake had happened, but Aryana hadn’t let him. That was his main problem with this. Brynden wanted to try, wanted Aryana to be treated like she deserved, but she wasn’t letting him do that. Would she change her mind now?

Maybe Aryana was just drunk and didn’t know what she was saying. That could be a possibility, and Brynden thought it would be better to talk about this again when she was sober. Maybe tomorrow morning or the day after that, just not tonight. Brynden already imagined that Aryana would regret touching him and kissing him soon enough, so he didn’t know if she’d regret her words as well.

“I will,” Brynden mumbled as he watched her, “but you have to let me care for you.”

Though Aryana nodded, Brynden would still ask her tomorrow or whenever he’d see her again if she would truly let him care for her, and not ignore him again. If she wouldn’t, then Brynden wouldn’t be able to prove anything to her. It’d be like caring for a stone wall, there’d just be no point. If Aryana would let him, though, Brynden would try his best to cherish her and treat her better than he had.

Without answering, Brynden pulled her back into his embrace then, stroking his fingers along her spine. It felt nice to feel Aryana’s arms around him, her hands pressing against his skin. The kiss she pressed against his neck was also so very sweet, but Brynden felt so guilty. He definitely didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve her giving him another chance or whatever this was. But this time he would make sure he wouldn’t fuck up.

While he was getting lost in his own thoughts, Brynden pressed his lips against her hair, closing his eyes. He wanted to say something, but he just kept getting distracted by his mind. Right now, Brynden felt all sorts of emotions and he wouldn’t have been able to explain it to anyone had they asked. It was strange, and he himself didn’t know what to think about it.

Only when Aryana pulled away slightly did it pull Brynden out of his thoughts. Hesitantly, she leant up to kiss him and Brynden kissed her back just as hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if she genuinely wanted this or if it was the wine, therefore it made him a bit cautious. Still, Brynden moved one of his hands to cup her cheek, stroking his thumb against her cheekbone as he kissed her gently.

The kiss was sweet, if it wouldn’t have made him feel so undeserving, then perhaps Brynden would’ve genuinely enjoyed it. He wanted to like kissing her, and he hoped that over time that feeling would pass. But he realised it would only happen if he would keep his promise to himself and be good to Aryana and not fuck it all up again. Soon enough, Aryana pulled away, but Brynden kept his hand on her cheek as he looked at her.

"Don't hurt me again."

“I won’t. I promise,” Brynden mumbled.

"I'll try to forgive you one day."

There were many things Brynden could’ve said, but instead he moved his other hand to her cheek as well to hold her face. He leant down again to press their lips together, trying to figure out how he could best show her over the coming weeks that he did care for her. Brynden could shower her in gifts or affection or both, but he had no idea where exactly to start.

While they kissed, Aryana’s hands moved to rest on his chest and when Brynden finally pulled away, he took one of her hands and raised it to his lips to press a kiss against her knuckles. He had to figure out how to approach this, what Aryana would appreciate and what would come off as a bit too desperate. Or maybe Aryana would like desperate. Gods, Brynden really had no clue how to do this, but he’d sure as fuck try his best.

"I should leave soon."

“You can stay here if you’d like,” Brynden said, still holding her hand.

"I'd appreciate that."

Obviously Brynden didn’t really mind that. Though he figured he probably wouldn’t sleep tonight at all. Maybe he’d just go and find someone to really check up on that wound of his, considering that he didn’t know if that dagger had been clean or not. Or maybe he could get in a few hours of work before morning. That would be good too. Either way, Aryana could stay if she’d like to and he wouldn’t be bothered by it whatsoever.

“Stay then,” Brynden nodded and squeezed her hand before letting it go.

Then Aryana raised her hand and touched his right shoulder, "does it hurt?"

It wasn’t really that bad. The dagger had been short and Aryana didn’t really have that much strength, so it hadn’t gone in deep. Brynden didn’t think it caught any nerves or anything important, so it wasn’t that horrible. He did worry a little if it would get infected and though he doubted that that would happen, he’d check up on that tomorrow or whenever he’d get the chance. Now, his priority had been to stop the bleeding, and he’d done that.

“I’ve had worse.”

"I don't know what came over me."

“It’s alright. You had your reasons.”

"I won't do it again."

“I’d appreciate that,” Brynden chuckled a little.

"But I won't promise anything."

“I understand,” Brynden nodded and kissed her head.

“Good.”

Her hand cupped his cheek and Brynden tried to not enjoy the feeling too much. It felt so fucking nice, though. A part of him just wanted to lay down with her now and hold her close to him the whole night, but he didn’t think she’d like that. Brynden pulled away a little from her then, “you’re probably tired.”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

As her fingers rested against his cheek, the warmth of his skin felt comforting against her cold fingertips. Aryana didn’t want to pull away then. For the moment Brynden was making her feel safe in his company. Staying with him sounded pleasant. It was much better than staying alone in her tent with no one to hold her or stroke her hair like he did. After everything that had happened, she knew she needed this. The sense of security would only help her grow closer to him again. Earlier that hadn’t been what she had wanted, but now things were different.

That stubbornness in her wanted to find excuses as to why she agreed to all of this, but there was no excuse. She couldn’t say it was because of the awful sense of loneliness because she knew it was because she needed Brynden. Aryana didn’t want to live the rest of her life miserable with him. Though she didn’t forgive him or trust him for that matter, it felt a lot better to show him kindness rather than feeling the need to hurt him.

Aryana didn’t even feel tired until Brynden asked her. Only then did she feel how weak her body felt, how she ached to lay down. She did feel like she didn’t deserve to stay with him after stabbing him, but she was much too tired to process her thoughts as she stood there. They didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that he was making her feel good, and that sensation was too nice for her to let go off now. She was pathetic for needing him.

“I’m exhausted,” she sighed quietly.

"Go sleep then."

When Brynden nodded towards the bed, Aryana wondered if he would also lay down. He had been sleeping when she had entered the tent earlier, but perhaps the pain she had caused him was too great for him to fall asleep again. Either way, she pulled away from him before moving towards the bed. Some of his blood had dripped down onto the mattress, but she didn’t mind it. It was her own fault, and all it did was make her feel guilty.

After pulling the furs and blankets away, she laid down onto the bed. She laid on her side as she pulled the blankets over her body, looking at Brynden who sat in his chair. For a second she wanted to ask him to lay with her, but he looked busy. It would have only sounded desperate if she’d ask him to lay with her. He wasn’t looking at her, and she sat up slightly on the bed, pulling the blanket with her to cover her shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

"I thought you said you were exhausted."

“Aren’t you tired?”

Brynden shrugged at her question, and that made Aryana push away the blankets only to stand up from the bed. The uncertainty he showed her made her wonder if he was afraid to lay down with her. After everything that was understandable, but she pushed through the exhaustion she felt and walked towards him. Carefully she reached for his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze as she kept her eyes on him. She didn’t want to be alone.

“I don’t want to sleep alone.”

It had been uncomfortable for her to say that. She didn’t want to bother him, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be alone. Had she not been drunk it would have been easier for her to respect his choice to stay up and do what looked like work, but she selfishly wanted him to hold her throughout the night, even with the pain he must have felt in his shoulder. Brynden nodded, letting go of her hands and Aryana walked towards the bed again.

What if he didn’t want to? Was Aryana forcing him to do something he didn’t like? Her head filled with such pathetic thoughts, and she worried too much about everything while the wine was still buzzing through her veins. Once she heard Brynden behind her, she turned around to look at him. She wanted to touch him then, stroke her fingers over his chest, but instead she laid down again, further away from the edge to give him room to lay down.

Brynden laid down soon after and wrapped his arms around her. A quiet sigh slipped from her lips as Aryana moved to lay pressed against his chest. It was so comforting she likely would have been able to fall asleep immediately, but no matter how exhausted she felt, she couldn’t stop moving her hands along his body. She leaned forward slightly to press her lips against his cheek, wanting to focus on showing him affection rather than her conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Whatever would happen once she would wake up didn’t matter as she felt his hands stroking her hair. That sensation was all she could think about as she moved her head to nuzzle her face against his neck. His beard tickled her face slightly, but he was so damn warm, and his body felt nice pressed up against hers. Then she felt him pressing his lips against her head, and now she sighed happily, letting her breath ghost over his skin.

“Thank you,” she mumbled against his skin.

He squeezed her closer against his chest, and Aryana closed her eyes then. Now it felt easy to let him care for her, but it was almost too obvious that it was because of the wine. Had she been sober she would have rejected his company right away. Before those thoughts could push away the comforting feeling Brynden gave her, Aryana pulled slightly away to press her lips against his, wanting to forget about everything that had happened.

 

[desti]

When Aryana went to lay down, Brynden initially went to sort through his pile of letters. People back in Nilfgaard were so keen on writing about everything that was going on. A part of Brynden appreciated that greatly, but at the same time that meant that he had to read every fucking word, even if it was absolutely meaningless. That was what he usually did when he gave up on trying to sleep, and that was what he planned to do tonight.

But Brynden didn’t get very far as soon enough Aryana was pulling him to lay down with her. He realised that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, even if he would’ve liked to. The pain in his shoulder made its presence known when Brynden laid down with his arms around Aryana, and he did his best not to wince or hiss at the feeling. Maybe Brynden could get back up again after Aryana would fall asleep.

Right now, though, it felt nice to lay here with her. Brynden didn’t doubt that her change in attitude was the cause of her drunkenness, but he didn’t mind. Though if she were to regret this tomorrow, then Brynden wouldn’t speak a word of it. When Aryana pressed their lips together, Brynden’s hand moved from her hair to rest on her cheek again, holding her face gently as he moved his lips against hers.

Aryana’s hand moved to Brynden’s good shoulder and she pulled him slightly towards her as she laid back against the bed. He moved to be on top of her, but put his left elbow down by the side of her head so that he could lean his weight against it. Brynden kept kissing her softly, while Aryana’s hands stroked over his back and one of them moved into his hair. It all felt so nice, and Brynden deserved none of it. If Aryana liked it, though, then how could he stop doing it?

Though it did feel a bit inappropriate to lay like this, and Brynden moved off of her again. The last thing he wanted to do was make something awkward and make Aryana feel uncomfortable. He pulled away from her lips and laid down on his side beside her again. There was a small, lazy smile on Aryana’s lips and it made Brynden a little happy to see it. Maybe she didn’t hate him? At least not as much as she made it seem.

“I’m sorry I stabbed you.”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Brynden mumbled as he leant over to press a short kiss against her lips.

Then Aryana wrapped her arms around him and pressed close against him. Brynden held her against him and stroked her back again, trying to figure out how long this would last. What if she wouldn’t remember this tomorrow and the she’d just fucking hate him again in the morning? That sounded fun, but not really. Brynden didn’t want his day to truly begin with an angry Aryana.

While his thought rushed through his mind, Brynden kept stroking her hair while his lips were pressed against the top of her head. Aryana kissed his neck softly and Brynden thought that he could get used to this. He just had to figure out how to get himself to stop thinking like he didn’t deserve this. Well, he didn’t, but at the same time if he’d keep those thoughts in mind, Brynden wouldn’t be able to treat Aryana well and be a good husband to her.

"Will the war be over soon?"

Aryana’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. Maybe not soon, but in the coming weeks Brynden expected it all to be over. At least then his family would be safe, and that was all Brynden cared about now. Obviously he had no plans to become King, so he could just retire to Nilfgaard and live a peaceful life. The East would be in Lord Aeron’s hands, the West would be given to someone that he’d be able to trust as well. Brynden was confident that Aedighar would have peaceful times after this.

“We’ll be in Wheldrake soon. It’ll all be over once we take the city,” Brynden nodded.

"Then we will go to Nilfgaard?"

“Yes. Then we’ll go to Nilfgaard and we’ll have some peace and quiet.”

"I'll have to marry you then."

“Sorry.”

"I think I'll be happy that day."

That was definitely the wine talking. Brynden didn’t believe that Aryana would trust him by that point or even truly like him. He expected their wedding to be incredibly awkward, and Brynden wasn’t exactly looking forwards to it. Brynden wanted Aryana to be happy, but he wasn’t optimistic enough to think that she’d open up to him so soon. He’d be patient, though, and do whatever it takes to make her happy.

“I’d like that.”

"Me too."

“I promise I’ll be a good husband to you, Aryana.”

"I hope you will be loyal, and I hope that isn't too much to ask for."

“I will be, I promise.”

“Good.”

Brynden would resist whatever temptations he’d get and just try to keep his promise. He didn’t want to hurt her again, that was so horrible of him to do. Brynden wanted Aryana to be happy, he wanted to be good to her. Never would he make such a mistake again, and now Brynden was determined to make this work. He wanted to show her that he wasn’t like that and that she would be treated right.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Affection
Chapter XCII
House Hastwyck
Sow knowledge, reap wisdom.
Santrella, Southern lands of Aedighar ​

It must have been early in the morning. The sun had just started to shine through the windows once Leanah opened her eyes. Bright sunshine illuminated his room in a deep orange tint, and a pleased sigh slipped from her lips as she closed her eyes again. Arthor laid there with her, and she listened to his slow, peaceful breaths. Their legs were tangled together, while she laid with her head resting carefully against his shoulder.

The memories of last night lingered on her mind, making a lazy smile tug at her lips. Her fingertips traced along his back, feeling his scars and where his skin became tauter because of his muscles. Delicate kisses were pressed against his neck, and she left a trail of them down to his shoulder. Now she opened her eyes again, pulling away from Arthor. He was so handsome, perfect even. Leanah knew she had fallen more in love with him than what she perhaps should have, but it was impossible not to when he was treating her so well.

Her fingers stroked up the side of his body, moving to trace along the scars on his torso before her hand finally cupped his cheek. Gods, Leanah felt so lucky to have him. The last month with him had been so perfect. Whenever Arthor wasn’t busy, they would be together, and she felt closer to him than she had ever felt before. A gentle kiss was pressed against his lips. It was short and sweet, but Leanah wanted to kiss him again.

“Arthor,” she mumbled instead.

It was clear that he was awake, especially when Arthor pressed a lazy kiss against her lips. Leanah felt the morning haze too, but she also felt somewhat awake compared to him. How long had they stayed up last night? She couldn’t seem to recall, but they’d had so much fun that it didn’t matter. Lately she had been staying too much with him. She feared that people had become suspicious about them, but she hoped they weren’t. The last thing she wanted was to lose what she had with him. They were so happy, and she loved him so much.

Leanah moved to press her lips against his cheek, kissing his skin all the way down to his neck. His arms pulled her closer to him as she felt his lips against her neck. It was impossible not to get enough of his affection. She wished they could lay there for hours, touching and kissing each other, not worrying about their duties or the harsh reality that waited for them outside his room. She wanted to stay here for as long as she could with him.

“Good morning,” she said, pulling slightly away from his embrace to look at him.

As he mumbled it back, his words were barely understandable, making Leanah chuckle quietly. Mornings were always slow with him, but she didn’t mind. She laid down, resting her head against his pillow now. Before she could move, Arthor pushed her lightly, moving her to lay on her back. He leaned over her, wrapping his arm around her while his leg rested between hers. She felt his breath ghost over her skin as he nuzzled against her neck. It was these moments she would never be able to give up. She wouldn’t trade them for anything.

With her hand resting against his shoulders, she raked her nails down his back, closing her eyes as she wanted to savour the sensation that rushed through her body. She was so certain that Arthor was the love of her life, the one she wanted to cherish until the day she would die, but with the morning haze still clouding her mind, it was easy for Leanah to think and wish for things that were very unrealistic.

His fingers were stroking against the side of her body, and Leanah loved the feeling of his lips against her neck. It reminded her of what they had done last night. Lately they had slept together a lot. She felt quite attached to the feeling Arthor gave her whenever they slept together. They rarely did in her room, not wanting to get unwanted attention for someone who might have walked past her door.

It was difficult to explain the love Leanah felt for Arthor. Like that day a few months ago, she felt confused. They were lovers, but she felt so many emotions whenever she was with him that it was difficult for her to understand what was truly going on between them. Instead of letting her mind wander, she moved her hand to grasp his chin, pulling his head up to press their lips together. He kissed her back, and she assumed he felt more awake now.

No matter how much Leanah wanted to stay here with him forever, she knew that later she would have to walk back to her room before the people in the castle would get suspicious. It was still quite early though, and they didn’t have to worry about that yet. She focused on kissing him sweetly, cupping his cheek as she moaned quietly against his lips. But then Arthor pulled away, and Leanah opened her eyes to look at him.

"Good morning,” he mumbled.

Before Leanah could answer their lips were pressed together again, and she smiled into the kiss. She felt safe laying there with him, wondering if they had ever been this happy together while they had just been friends. That seemed so long ago now. They had been lovers for a while now that she was so caught up in their recent memories of sharing kisses and sleeping together while trying to keep it a secret.

Leanah pulled away from the kiss, cupping his face with both hands, “can we stay here all day?”

"That'd be nice."

Arthor was right that it would be nice. Leanah wanted it more than anything while she felt his lips kiss her along her jaw. It wouldn’t be possible. In another life perhaps where they weren’t so harshly tied to their duties and roles. She longed so much for the happiness he gave her, and she didn’t want to give up on it ever. It was so foolish of her, but she couldn’t help it. He made her feel so loved and cared for. Why would she want to end that?

“We could stay here forever.”

 

[desti]

It had always been so that Arthor was a heavy sleeper and wouldn’t be able to truly wake up until a while after. His mornings would be hazy and often times filled with lazy kisses and gentle touches. Arthor didn’t really do it intentionally, it was just something that happened whenever he woke up with someone in his arms or with their arms around him.

Though Arthor didn’t really mind it, and it didn’t seem like other people minded it either. It was sweet, really, and a rather nice way to wake up. Especially with Leanah it was so soft and nice, and Arthor almost didn’t want the haze to leave him. His mind was so pleasantly clouded over with sleep, and all he could truly do was press kisses against her skin and stroke his fingers against her side.

Soon, Arthor would have to get up and leave her like usual. Then he’d work all the while thinking about Leanah and when he’d be able to be with her again. It was so good to see her in the evening after a long day, and it made everything bad that had happened in the last hours alright again. Leanah was just so fucking perfect, and in any form of relationship Arthor just found himself so happy with her.

While Arthor would’ve loved to stay with her forever, he also realised that it was absolutely impossible. One day, this would all end and Arthor would have to pretend to the rest of the world that nothing had happened. That didn’t really sound fun at all, and Arthor dreaded the day it would all stop. He didn’t want to lose her, but Arthor hoped that even if they’d stop being lovers, they could still be around each other. He loved her too much to lose her.

“People might start looking for us,” Arthor mumbled.

"I don't care."

At that, Arthor chuckled a little and pressed their lips together again. He could kiss her for hours if he’d be able to. It was so sweet and perfect, he couldn’t get enough of her. Leanah’s hand moved to stroke his hair, and Arthor smiled into the kiss. If he didn’t have to get up soon, then Arthor might’ve just grabbed her and gone back to bed again. With her, he just felt so relaxed and comfortable.

Instead of doing that, though, Arthor moved to lay down on his back beside her, rubbing his face with his hands in an effort to truly wake himself up. When he moved his hands away, Arthor saw Leanah sitting up on the bed, looking at him with her sweet smile. Obviously he couldn’t help but smile back at her, as he moved his hand to stroke her back gently.

When Leanah got out of bed, Arthor yawned a little, but kept his eyes open as he watched her. She picked up his shirt from where he’d thrown it carelessly last night, and put it on before returning to him again. His full attention was on her when Leanah climbed back into bed and straddled him. It made Arthor smile and suddenly get a burst of energy, and he didn’t even want to sleep anymore.

"We could have so much fun if we stayed here today."

“It’s very tempting,” Arthor chuckled as he reached up to stroke her hair.

"I'm sure everyone else would understand."

“Oh? Are you sure about that?”

"Trust me."

“Somehow I doubt that,” Arthor grinned, moving his hand to cup her cheek instead.

"Are you doubting me?" Leanah asked and leant her head against his hand.

“Yes.”

"That is very rude of you."

“Forgive me.”

Arthor smiled a little as he sat up so that he could press their lips together again. Leanah only allowed him to barely brush their lips together, though. While Arthor did want to just grab her and kiss her properly, he also wanted to play along, like usual. It was too much fun.

"Why should I?"

“Because you love me?”

When Leanah kissed him, Arthor smiled and wrapped his arms around her, as he laid back on the bed again, pulling her down on top of him. Her thumb stroked against his cheek while Arthor’s hands stroked over her back. Arthor did wish that Leanah would be right and everyone would be fine with them wasting the whole day with each other. That would be such a wonderful day, but that would only be possible in another life.

Then Leanah pulled away again and chuckled a little as she sat back up again. Her hands stroked down his chest and Arthor moved his hands to hold onto her waist. Arthor couldn’t take his eyes off of her, Gods, she was beautiful. In every way, she was perfect and Arthor couldn’t get enough of her. He greatly envied whoever would be lucky enough to spend the rest of their lives with her. Her nails scratched over his sides and chest, and Arthor took one of her hands so he could press his lips against her fingers.

"What if I force you to stay here with me?"

Arthor chuckled a little as he kept pressing kisses against her hand, “are you going to explain to your mother why I failed to show up for work?”

"I'll tell her that you were very drunk and that I had to take care of you. Sounds believable enough."

“Sounds like a great reason for her to finally get rid of me,” Arthor mumbled.

"She would never get rid of you."

“If you say so,” Arthor chuckled and squeezed her hand.

"You have to start trusting me, Arthor."

“I trust you, Leanah. I don’t quite trust your mother, though,” Arthor mumbled and chuckled.

"Does she frighten you?"

How could she not? Arthor found himself feeling so uncomfortable around Lady Carlys lately, because he was afraid of her finding out and what she’d think of it. There was no doubt that she would be very, very unhappy about it and be very angry with him. That wasn’t something Arthor wanted, and he was afraid of experiencing it.

“Yes.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Spending endless hours with Arthor while not doing anything productive sounded so blissful to Leanah. In her eyes and mind, her days would have a purpose as long as she was spending time with him. Making him happy was something she held close to her heart, something she wanted to do every day, all the time. It felt as if her life had started to revolve around him so much that nothing else mattered. Only their happiness mattered, nothing else.

It was careless and irresponsible of her to think, but Leanah was so deeply in love with Arthor. He was the person who she felt the most comfortable with. The person who she could so easily imagine being by her side for the rest of her life. Perhaps he would, one way or another. She was confident that her mother wouldn’t send him away. Then she would have already done so, and Leanah had already told her mother she wouldn’t want that.

That was something Arthor didn’t know, and Leanah had wanted to tell him about the conversation she had once had with her mother, but she wasn’t sure how he’d react. If he would get angry with her, then she would only get upset, and that wasn’t what she wanted. It was better if he didn’t know that her mother was aware of their secrets. Though she hadn’t told her that they were lovers. She hadn’t told her mother anything new about them.

“Why?” Leanah asked, raising her brow, curious as to why he felt frightened by her mother.

Arthor shrugged and chuckled, making her laugh. At times her mother could be quite intense, but she didn’t mind it. Perhaps she had been frightening at times during her childhood, but Leanah mostly remembered the slight jealousy she’d had towards her brother more than anything else. Now that jealousy felt foolish but thinking about it only upset her, causing her to push those thoughts away. She didn’t want to be sad now.

“Don’t be frightened, Arthor.”

"It's hard not to be."

“I understand,” she mumbled with a slight chuckle.

"Good."

They both chuckled before Arthor pulled her down and Leanah pressed her lips against his. Gods, it felt slightly pathetic that she was so addicted to kissing him. Not only that, but she was addicted to having his presence around her. She couldn’t get enough of him, and she kissed him desperately as she cupped his face, holding him close to her so he couldn’t pull away. It felt so nice, especially when he cupped her face too, kissing her back.

Leanah hoped Arthor didn’t have any ill thoughts about her wanting him to stay here with her. She also hoped he didn’t find her to be pathetic for being so attached to him. He was so perfect, and if she were to get a full day to spend with him, she would have been euphoric about it. She moaned into the kiss, stroking her fingers into his hair as she grasped onto the strands, letting them tangle with her fingers. He smiled against her lips then.

As he held her so close, Leanah pulled away from his lips, only to press her lips against his neck. Slowly she moved further down to press kisses against his collarbone. While he stroked her hair, she moved even further down, leaving a trail of kisses down his torso. Perhaps she was giving him the wrong impression then as she pressed her lips against his abdomen. When their gaze met, he looked pleased with what she was doing.

Her lips reached his lower abdomen, and Leanah pulled away then, looking up at him with a sweet smile on her face as she leaned over his body again. Now he didn’t look as pleased anymore.

"Rude,” Arthor mumbled.

“How am I rude?”

Arthor shook his head at that before kissing her. Leanah knew what she had been doing, but she had wanted to tease him. It was always so much fun, but now she focused on kissing him back instead of thinking of how she could tease him some more. He was stroking her hair, and just as she was going to move her hands to cup his face, Arthor rolled them over so he would be leaning over her. Her hands moved to his back then instead.

While her nails dragged across his skin, Arthor was cupping her face with his hand, and now Leanah kissed him so desperately again. If only they could wake up like this every morning together. She stroked her hands into his hair, gently tugging at it, wanting him to stay here with her. He moaned at that before he pulled away, and she let out a slight sigh at the sudden loss of his lips against hers. It felt a lot better again when he stroked her hair out of her face, and she saw that sweet smile on his lips. He was so beautiful.

“Forgive me for being rude.”

"I forgive you."

They kissed again, and she hooked her legs over his hips, holding him close to her. If someone were to see them now, they would have gotten themselves into so much trouble, but the more time Leanah had spent with Arthor, the less she worried. If anything she was just worried she would lose him, but the thought that someone could have opened the door and seen them didn’t worry her anymore. All she cared about was him.

“I love you,” Leanah whispered as she pulled away slightly from his lips.

 

[desti]

Having every one of his mornings be like this would be a blessing. Arthor knew it would never be the case, but the thought of it was so sweet. Perhaps one day he would find someone else for him, but he honestly doubted it. How could he ever have something as sincere as he did with Leanah? How could anyone ever replace her? It would’ve been for the better, but Arthor wasn’t sure if it could be possible.

Whenever Arthor envisioned his future, it was always connected to his work. He just saw himself working for House Hastwyck until he couldn’t anymore. Perhaps then he would get his own lands to rule over, given to him by Leanah after years of loyal service. What then? Arthor had no fucking idea what he’d do after leaving House Hastwyck, giving a younger knight the chance to take his place. In a way, it frightened him to think about that.

Would he be alone? Arthor didn’t want to be alone, but everyone he knew was here, in one way or another connected to House Hastwyck. The two closest to him were obviously Leanah and Elias, and it’s not like he could take them with him whenever he went on to live somewhere else. Arthor didn’t really want to think about it now, and he focused on kissing Leanah for now.

But she pulled away soon enough, but when she said those three words, Arthor didn’t really mind their kiss ending. They made him smile and give her another, short kiss before pulling away again, “I love you, too.”

Leanah wrapped her arms around him and pulled Arthor so close to him that he had no option but to pretty much lay on top of her. Though he did try to lean most of his weight on one of his elbows, which rested by the side of her head. Arthor smiled and kissed her again. He pulled away soon enough though, and, after pressing a kiss against her cheek, got out of her grip and stood up from the bed, as much as it pained him to do so.

When Arthor got up, he didn’t even look at Leanah, because he knew that it would be far too easy for him to just fall back into bed with her. Gods, he wanted to stay with her forever, but Arthor did have responsibilities, which was a shame. Just as Arthor found some trousers, he felt arms snake around himand lips press against his neck. He smiled and looked over his shoulder at her, “Leanah.”

"Don't leave,” Leanah said as her hands went to rest on his stomach.

“But I have to,” Arthor chuckled and turned around, moving his hand to cup her cheek.

“Please.”

“Leanah.”

"Stay, just for a little longer."

How in the world could he resist her? What would a few minutes or maybe half an hour do? Whenever Arthor had been late to work before, the repercussions hadn’t been major, so he doubted it would matter much this time either. Admitting defeat to her, Arthor nodded and leant down to press their lips together, stroking his thumb against her cheekbone. Her arms wrapped around him then, and Arthor had no clue how in the world he’d be able to go to work today at all.

“Can I at least put my clothes on?” he chuckled as he pulled away from her lips.

“Yes.”

When Leanah went to stand by his table, Arthor began to dress himself. He walked around the room, gathering his clothes and things to put on before turning back to Leanah. She was leaning against the table, and Arthor didn’t waste much time to cross the room and kiss her again, resting his hands on her hips. Leanah’s arms wrapped around his neck and her hands went back into his hair, making it clear that she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. Arthor stroked his fingers against her hips as he kissed her softly for a while before pulling away.

"Will you miss me?"

“I always miss you.”

"I'll think about you,” Leanah said as her fingers stroked against his cheek.

“And in the evening you could tell me just what you thought about,” Arthor grinned.

"Maybe."

The thought excited him, and Arthor leant forwards to kiss her again. Leanah bit down on his lip, and in response Arthor’s hands squeezed her hips. When she moaned, it almost made Arthor too tempted to really give her something to ponder about for the rest of the day. He was too nice to do that, though, so Arthor just pulled away from her completely and chuckled a little as he took a step back.

"Are you leaving now?"

“I should. I don’t want to, but I should.”

“It’s okay.”

“Maybe I could kiss you for a while longer, though,” Arthor mumbled as it was incredibly hard to stop what they were doing.

And when Leanah kissed him, it became absolutely impossible to pull away from her again. Arthor wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her closer against him, stroking his fingers against her lower back. Why did he have to work today? If he didn’t, this would be such a pleasant day they could spend together. Really, it was unfair and Arthor just wanted to enjoy himself with Leanah. It sounded so pleasant, and it was so tempting to just forget about his duties and stay with her.

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Reliance
Chapter XCIII
House Rhyne
May all be as one
Nilfgaard, Northern lands of Aedighar
​

When Aryana had woke up that morning in Brynden’s tent with a pounding headache, she had never felt more confused. Most of the night before had been a blur to her. Nothing seemed to make sense. She remembered drinking some wine before finding a dagger. Then there was blood and arguments she couldn’t quite recall. Whatever she had said to him had been heavily influenced by alcohol and anger, but that didn’t necessarily mean that those words weren’t true. Though she feared that perhaps she had said something foolish.

The guilt of stabbing him still lingered inside of her throughout that day. Especially when Brynden tried to talk to her. Aryana needed time. What she had done hadn’t been right, but at the same time, she didn’t worry too much about what he thought of it. In a way, it had been fair, but it hadn’t been like her to seek revenge in such a violent way. That must have been because of the wine because she wasn’t sure what else it could come from.

As that evening became less and less like a blur, Aryana was regretting how quickly she had fallen into his arms. That Brynden didn’t deserve. She didn’t want to forgive him yet, and she didn’t even trust him. But even sober that feeling of wanting to be cared for by him lingered inside of her. Was it so wrong of her to want her future husband to like her? It couldn’t be, but her mind was still trying to find excuses not to let herself fall into his arms again.

It had been somewhat nice though to talk to him and kiss him. She wanted to trust the promises he had made to her, but it was so difficult, and she used a few days to think everything through. If she would give him a chance to take care of her then what bad could come out of it? Lady Sarisa was no longer at camp with them, and Aryana didn’t have to feel threatened by her. Perhaps she should give Brynden a second chance at doing better.

A few days had passed since that night, and Aryana had slightly avoided Brynden, not feeling ready to face him. It was the afternoon when she entered her tent, looking longingly towards her bed. If only she could have fallen asleep now and make another long day pass much quicker, then things would have been so much easier. Instead of doing that she walked over to her desk, sitting down in the chair, looking at the empty space in front of her.

“Aryana.”

His voice startled her, and Aryana turned her head to look at him. Brynden stood there, and for a moment she wanted to yell at him to leave. But she didn’t feel the need to do that. Not really. She kept telling herself that she needed his care only to tell herself that she didn’t. Her mind was fighting with itself, not sure what to do. In the end, she rose from the chair she had just sat down in, turning to face him.

“Brynden.”

"How are you?"

Terrible. She felt terrible. Everything that had happened wasn’t supposed to affect her as much as it had. They weren’t married, neither were they lovers. Still Aryana felt betrayed by him to the point where she had stabbed him while being high on anger. Though she didn’t want to argue anymore. It was exhausting. There was no point, and she walked towards him, trying to have a gentle smile resting on her lips.

“I’m okay.”

"Are you busy?"

“No.”

"Good. I thought maybe we could spend some time together."

At first it didn’t sound like Aryana would enjoy that. Spending time with Brynden sounded like a lot of awkward silence and would only end with arguing, but she knew that she didn’t have anything better to do. How would she ever learn to trust him if she didn’t spend time with him? Though she was still so unsure if she did want to trust him or not. What if he would betray that trust again? Gods, she couldn’t make up her mind about him.

“What would we do?”

"Talk?"

That definitely sounded like they would end up arguing. Aryana wanted to like the effort that Brynden was putting into this, but what would they talk about? How she had stabbed him and how he had hurt her? It didn’t sound like a good idea to Aryana, and she turned away from him, walking over to her desk again. She didn’t feel ready to talk to him. He made her feel so unsure about everything.

“We would just end up arguing.”

"I don't want to argue. Do you?"

“No.”

"Then let's not argue. That shouldn't be too hard."

Aryana heard him step closer to her, but she resisted the temptation of looking at him. Perhaps he was right that it wouldn’t be too hard. She could just be polite with him, exchange a few pleasantries and then she wouldn’t have to worry about getting into an argument with him. That wouldn’t get them any further though. Pleasantries bored her, and if that would be what they would end up doing, then she would have much rather spent her time alone.

“Okay. We can spend some time together.”

 

[desti]

When Aryana began to avoid him after what had happened that one night, Brynden grew frustrated, because he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to care for her now that she didn’t allow him to. He wanted to spend time with her, but they never seemed to be able to do that. Considering how little free time Brynden had too, it was ridiculously hard to actually talk to Aryana, especially since she didn’t seem to want to do that.

One day, though, Brynden decided to take it one step further. Though he had planned for a meeting that afternoon, he cancelled it, letting one of his men run around camp, informing everyone about his decision. Maybe that wasn’t a great idea and maybe Brynden should’ve had his priorities straight, but Aryana was important and Brynden desperately wanted to squeeze in some time for her.

Also, Brynden wanted to show Aryana just how much he cared for her and that he was willing to put other things aside for her. He wanted her to know that he would make this work, no matter how hard that might be. Brynden wanted Aryana to be happy with him, he wanted her to feel safe with him and cared for. She was going to be his wife, and Brynden would make sure that her life wouldn’t be miserable, even if she would never learn to love him.

When Brynden spoke with her in her tent, though, he realised he forgot to actually think about what he might do with her. He liked the idea of talking with her, because perhaps he’d learn something about her and she’d learn something about him. But perhaps Aryana was right and that would lead to arguing, which neither of them would enjoy. How hard could it be to avoid arguments?

“Great,” Brynden nodded, “did you want to go outside the camp, maybe? There’s not that much to see around here, but at least it’d be a little more peaceful out there.”

"I'd like that."

When Aryana turned around to face him, Brynden smiled at her and nodded his head a little. Really, the nature here was flat and plain, but at least it was somewhat better than the camp. It was always so loud here and so crowded, you could barely think in peace. Maybe being outside of this atmosphere would help Aryana feel a little better and would make their conversation more enjoyable.

“Are you ready to go then?”

"Yes."

Brynden wanted to give her his arm to hold onto, but he thought that she might not want that. So he headed out of the tent, walking beside her. Brynden didn’t remember much of their conversations before, mainly because how much horrible things happened. He had listened to her words, but now they seemed so far away, fogged over in his mind by every bad memory he had of the time.

“Have you ever been to Wheldrake before?” Brynden asked as he headed outside the camp borders with Aryana.

"No, have you?"

“Once, when I was a child,” he nodded, “my parents were going for some sort of celebration, as well as for other things, and I tagged along with them. I don’t remember much of it, though.”

Really, nothing much had stayed in his mind from the trip. Brynden only remembered how long it had been to get there and how long it had been to get back to Nilfgaard. The road to Wheldrake had been the most interesting part, but, Gods, he couldn’t even remember what had made it so. He must’ve been maybe eight years old when it had happened. Fuck, it had been so long ago.

"I have never really travelled much, which is a shame. I wish I could see more of the world, but I have never been this far south before."

“You’ll be able to travel later. As Lady Rhyne, you’ll get far too many invitations to visit other Houses, both small ones and big ones. You’ll have so many options, you won’t know where to go.”

"That sounds both fun and stressful,” Aryana said, chuckling a little.

“It is,” Brynden nodded, “then it becomes mostly just stressful. My parents argued a lot about where to go, where to not go, who they could afford to offend and who they had to keep close.”

Because of the war, Brynden was lucky enough to avoid this for now. He already dreaded when he’d have to begin dealing with such seemingly mundane things. They were pleasantries, but important as they could either forge alliances or ruin them. It shouldn’t have been so vital, but it was, and Brynden was sure that he wouldn’t enjoy it at all. Once he’d return to Nilfgaard, Brynden would never want to leave.

"Do you imagine we will argue about that?"

“Probably,” Brynden shrugged and chuckled a little.

"I imagine we will."

“There’s nothing wrong with arguing every once in a while, though.”

"That's true, but I hope it won't happen often."

“Me neither,” Brynden nodded, letting a small silence set in before speaking again, “can you tell me more about yourself? Anything.”

 

[scoorpiuuss]

Being outside with Brynden sounded a lot more enjoyable than both of them brooding in her tent. The last time they had been outside together had been memorable. Even though it was quite long ago, Aryana hadn’t forgotten about the view he had shown her. It had been beautiful, and she wouldn’t lie to herself and pretend that she hadn’t enjoyed it. If anything that day had helped her later on to see that maybe he wasn’t as bad as she wanted him to be, and maybe Brynden genuinely cared enough about her to want to be kind to her.

Ever since Aryana had been a child, nature had been close to her heart. It was rather impossible not to fall in love with the beautiful views she had seen, and that had caused her to find a passion for travelling though she hadn’t done much of it. The furthest north she had been was Nilfgaard, and here was the furthest south she had been.

There were other things Aryana had liked doing before the war as well. Like any other Lady she would go through boring days of learning about the history of Aedighar, and perhaps doing needlework a whole day, and while those things could be fun at times, she was also fond of other things. Going to the lake for a swim was something she had enjoyed for years, but she had also been interested in what hunting would be like though she had never done it. If Antra would have heard of that, Aryana imagined their friendship would be torn.

Either way, Aryana had never actually killed an animal before, just watched as others rode out into the forest, coming back with animals to make food or beautiful clothes of days later. Then whenever that wasn’t an option and her days would be so slow and dull, old books were always there to give her company. She liked to think she had many interests that could tell Brynden a little about her, but what if they wouldn’t have anything in common?

“Do you like hunting?” Aryana asked, looking up at him as she walked beside him.

"Yes, it's exciting. I don't really have time for it anymore. Have you ever done it?"

“No, but it looks very fun.”

Brynden met her gaze with a smile then, "I can take you hunting one day then. If you'd like."

“I like swimming too so we would have to do that as well,” she smiled.

That sounded quite romantic to Aryana. If they had that in common wouldn’t it only give them more reasons to try? She imagined it would only help them if they found something to bond over. Then perhaps she could learn to trust him again and forgive him for how he had treated her before. She didn’t want to pretend that she didn’t like the sound of going out hunting with Brynden, and perhaps find a lake to swim in.

"Sure. I'll show you the hot springs in Nilfgaard."

“I’d like that. I enjoy being outside. As a child, I would always spend hours by the lake. I was quite attached to that place, and I would get upset if I wasn’t allowed to go there,” Aryana chuckled quietly, “Do you find that strange? Being so attached to something?”

"No, I don't think there's anything strange about that. Everyone has something like that."

Now that Aryana was reminded of it she could recall how many hours she had spent by that lake. She would sit under an old oak, likely older than anyone she knew. It was peaceful and sometimes cold during the winter, but she had loved those hours. There she could think freely without the worry of being disturbed. She had grown distant from that place the older she had gotten though, but suddenly she missed it.

“Do you have something like that?”

Brynden chuckled, "do my siblings count? Them or just Nilfgaard in general. It doesn't feel right when I'm away from either."

“Family is important to you. I admire that.”

"It's the most important thing for me,” he nodded.

“That’s what I liked about you. The devotion you have for your family.”

It was somewhat difficult to look past his mistakes and see Brynden as the man he was. Aryana was still conflicted about him, but family was her weakness, and seeing how he cared so much for his own people only made her imagine that he would be just as devoted to her one day. She didn’t want to worry about whether to trust him or not though. Now they were actually talking without arguing, and it was a pleasant conversation.

Aryana heard him chuckle again before he looked away, making her wonder if she had said something wrong, “did I say something wrong?”

"No,” Brynden shook his head, “is family important to you?”

“Yes, very.”

"Your father's a very good man."

“He is,” she nodded, “he has always been very kind to me, always having my best interest at heart.”

Her father was the only one she had, but he was the most important person in her life. Aryana loved him. Having a family of her own was something she had loved the thought of for so long as well. It did seem like they had that in common, and that was a good thing. As she walked, she moved closer to Brynden, reaching for his arm to hold onto him. A genuine smile rested on her lips as she looked up at him.

 

[desti]

Family was undoubtedly the most important thing in Brynden’s life. He couldn’t imagine himself alone, without people around him. After the war would be over, both Willelm and Antra wouldn’t be in Nilfgaard anymore. Brynden dreaded that day. Though he was happy for them and how their lives would move on, how they’d find love and happiness, he desperately wanted them near him.

They were growing up, though, and Brynden had to understand that. They weren’t his little, annoying siblings anymore. They were adults now, and he would have to let them go. Brynden had grown so used to them, and now he wasn’t sure how he’d deal with it. It had been so hard to lose Rhea, and he was desperate to have Willelm and Antra around him. Obviously he couldn’t force them to stay in Nilfgaard for the rest of their lives, though.

But then Aryana would be his family. Maybe one day she would love him, and then she would give him children. Brynden wanted a big family, the thought of having children excited him. He had grown up, caring for his younger siblings, so he thought that he would be a good father. Brynden hoped that he would be a good father, like his had been. He wanted his marriage to be like that of his parents, but he felt unsure if Aryana would ever be able to have that with him.

Then Brynden spoke of Aryana’s family. She only had her father, Lord Aeron, who had grown to be quite close to Brynden. He was a kind man and Brynden admired him for his strength to raise his daughter as well as establish House Faerson as a strong house in the East. Brynden thought that the East would be in capable hands when Aeron would take over.

From what Brynden had heard from Aeron, he had raised Aryana himself pretty much. He couldn’t imagine how tough that had probably been, but perhaps it hadn’t been that hard. Aryana didn’t seem like someone who had caused much trouble, even as a child. When she reached for his arm, Brynden smiled and looked down at her, meeting her gaze and feeling perhaps a bit too happy to see a smile on her lips as well.

“What was your childhood like?”

"Exciting I suppose. It was only me and my father, but I had friends, and I was happy."

“Did you get into trouble a lot?”

"Not really. Sometimes if I would sneak away from my septa, but I like to think I behaved as a child."

“That doesn’t really surprise me,” Brynden chuckled.

"What about you?"

Since Brynden was going to be the Lord of the house one day, he was taught to be proper and good at all times. Some days it was harder to achieve than others, but most of the time Brynden thought he had been a good child. Perhaps when his younger siblings came into the world did he start to misbehave a little bit, getting into trouble because of them mostly. Other than that, Brynden couldn’t remember much of his mischief, or how much of that he had done.

“I was actually a pretty good child, I think. When the little ones came around, then perhaps I got into trouble a bit more. It was usually Rhea’s fault, though,” Brynden smiled.

"I find that hard to believe,” Aryana chuckled.

“No, really,” Brynden laughed, “I was well behaved. Is that so hard to believe?”

"Very hard to believe."

“Fine, don’t believe me then,” he shrugged.

"I think you created chaos as a child."

“No. If anything, I prevented chaos as a kid. Gods know what Rhea and Willelm would’ve been up to if I wasn’t there.”

"Are you sure you didn't influence them to misbehave?"

That caused Brynden to look away a little as he chuckled. Maybe he did tell them every once in a while to do something stupid just so he would get a laugh out of it. It had been awfully funny, really. Especially Rhea, who had been so uncontrollable as a child, always made Brynden laugh whenever she did something mischievous.

“Oh no, definitely not. I would never do such a thing."

“Oh really?”

“Really,” Brynden chuckled.

"If you say so."

It made him maybe stupidly happy to talk about this. Brynden liked to think about his childhood, because it had been so perfect. Sure, there had been low points there too, but it was nothing compared to how life was now. It was a blissful time to be young, and Brynden missed it. He liked to think back on it and think about all the memories he had shared with those he loved.

“Trust me,” Brynden smiled and leant down to press a kiss against her head.

There was no reply from her then, Aryana only looked up at him with a smile. Brynden wanted to kiss her then, but he held himself back. He thought he would only do that when he was sure that Aryana wanted it, maybe only if she’d initiate it even. Brynden smiled back at her, admiring her beauty for a moment before looking away again as he sighed a little.

“When I was young, I wanted to take my father’s place as Lord so badly. I greatly underestimated how horrible it actually is."