• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fantasy Aedighar [closed]

All those conflicting thoughts Leanah had were slowly fading away from her mind. Arthor made her feel more at ease. They weren’t arguing, and he wasn’t acting immature. Now he was the one who seemed to realise that they could no longer be together. No matter how much she wanted to tell him that she was willing to try for them, she knew it was better if they ended this now. It was so hard to let go of what they had been, though. Arthor had hurt her, but he had also brought her so much joy that she wanted him to be in her life somehow, perhaps as a friend.

When they hugged, Leanah stopped thinking about all that. She wrapped her arms so tightly around Arthor as he pulled her close against his chest. Though they couldn’t be lovers they had always been best friends, hadn’t they? Leanah loved the memories she had of their friendship. It made her sad that she couldn’t be his, but if the would be able to be friends, then at least she could keep him close to her. Though she hadn’t forgiven him, she wanted to forgive him even if what he had done was horrible. How could she not forgive him? She loved him so much.

“I want you in my life, Arthor.”

"I don't want to lose you either, Leanah."

“If I can forgive you for how you hurt me, perhaps we could be friends again?”

That would be the hardest part, forgiving Arthor. Leanah pulled away from his embrace, taking a step back. She was so unsure still if she could trust him even if she wanted to trust him and forgive him. Without him, she felt miserable though. She wasn’t sure if she could live without his friendship, and perhaps then she would eventually get over the fact that they couldn’t be lovers. In the end, all Leanah craved was to have him near her. He could protect her as he had before, take care of her, and she could take care of him. It sounded so sweet to her.

"I would like that,” he mumbled.

“Can I trust that you won’t hurt me again?”

Arthor stayed quiet at her question, but he nodded. That wasn’t good enough for Leanah, and she stepped forward to cup his face as she looked at him, “I need you to say it.”

"You can trust me,” he nodded.

“Good, because I need you, Arthor.”

"I need you too, Leanah."

“I’ll try to forgive you, but I don’t know when. I need you to be patient with me.”

Now Leanah at least believed she could trust Arthor. Though he had likely said that many times and still hurt her, she was so naive that it was too easy for her to trust his words then. Either way, it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be able to hurt each other anymore. They wouldn’t be together. They wouldn’t be lovers. To her, that meant they would only be friends and they had always been good to each other as friends. At least until they had managed to sleep together, but that wouldn’t happen again. It couldn’t happen again. Leanah wanted to be a good friend now.

"I understand. Take your time,” he nodded.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled away from him again.

As Arthor only nodded and looked down, Leanah wanted to cup his face again, but instead, she asked, “what’s wrong?”

When he just shrugged, not answering at first, Leanah only worried that perhaps a friendship wouldn’t be enough for them. What if they would always long for something more? She knew how difficult it would be for her to rest him, but she also knew she had to for their own good. What they had shared had been beautiful and a wonderful experience for her to remember, but it had to end. Arthor knew that as well. They both knew. In the end, it would only be good for them, or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Perhaps she would always be miserable.

"What's he like?"

“He’s very kind and caring. Funny too.”

"That's good,” he nodded.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be yours, Arthor.”

"Don't apologise for something like that."

“I know, I just know that we both want something we can’t have, and I hate seeing you upset,” she sighed.

"I hate this, too. We'll get back to how things used to be, though. Right?"

“Yes, I hope so.”

What else would they do? Leanah realised that she couldn’t live her life happy without Arthor, and it seemed like he felt the same way. If they could manage to stay friends wouldn’t it just be for the better if they tried that? She wasn’t sure how difficult that would be considering she still felt such a deep connection to him and the fact that she still loved him, but she hoped that it would eventually fade. It had to because she had to be good to Lord Adian who would one day be her husband. It would only be unfair if she loved someone else then.

Leanah didn’t want to hurt Adian. He didn’t deserve that.
 
While Arthor knew that he didn’t deserve Leanah’s forgiveness nor her friendship, he needed it. He knew that he wanted it, but Arthor realised that he’d have to try harder from now on. The feelings he held for her would have to fade, because the last thing he wanted to do was stand between Leanah and her husband. Arthor wanted Leanah to be happy, and she couldn’t be happy if he’d keep treating her as his.

From what Leanah had said, her first impression of him must’ve been good. That was fair, and Arthor tried to be happy about it. He wanted her to have a good husband, he did, and at the same time he could feel the envy inside of him rise as she spoke of him. They didn’t even talk much about him, but it was enough to stir up the jealousy inside of him again. It was so fucking stupid and Arthor felt ashamed of himself.

“Good. I hope so too. I never want to lose you,” Arthor mumbled as he looked away from her again.

"Then don't hurt me again."

“I won’t.”

It frustrated Arthor that he wasn’t sure if that was the truth or not. He knew that he didn’t want to hurt her, he’d never wanted to hurt her intentionally. When he had done so, it had just happened, mostly stemming from his selfish ways. Arthor couldn’t help it, but from now on he’d try to control himself a little more. It shouldn’t be that hard to be a good, respectful man, but it fucking was.

"I need you by my side to protect me, Arthor. I don't want to be hurt by you again."

“I will always protect you, Leanah. I’m sorry about everything.”

"I know you are."

“Good. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

"I will. I am miserable without you, and even if you hurt me so badly, I don't think I can live without you."

Hearing that made Arthor both happy and absolutely miserable. She would forgive him, that was good and he was thankful for that. But that proved the thoughts he had some nights before about how he would likely be able to get away with anything, and that worried him too much. Leanah had to be more careful, smarter about this, but she was so naive, at least when it came to him. If Arthor was better, then perhaps it wouldn’t matter as much, but he kept taking advantage of that over and over again.

“Leanah…”

“What?”

“That’s not good, Leanah.”

"But I need you to be my friend."

“You shouldn’t forgive me just because you want me to stay around. It’ll just hurt you more in the end.”

"I know."

“I think you believe that I’m a much better man than I actually am.”

Perhaps Leanah put Arthor on such a high pedestal that now it was impossible for her to think any bad of him for too long. He didn’t want to ruin the image she held of him in her mind, but Arthor felt like that was necessary to do. Obviously Leanah didn’t quite understand that forgiveness shouldn’t be so easily given to him, as he didn’t deserve it at all.

"I don't mean to. You have just been so kind to me, but you have also hurt me. I don't know what to believe anymore."

“Let’s just be honest, Leanah. I’ve used you, I’ve hurt you, I’ve disrespected you. I’ve been horrible to you over the last few months.”

At that, Leanah grew quiet and didn’t look at him anymore. Her hands went to cover her face, and Arthor thought she was crying, but he didn’t hear any sobs so he didn’t reach out to her. Really, Arthor wasn’t sure why he was saying all of this. Couldn’t he just leave and let her forgive him? That would be so much easier.

“I love you, Leanah. I always have and I always will, but that’s not an excuse for all that I’ve done to you.”

"How can I forgive you then?" Leanah mumbled.

“I don’t know.”

"What am I supposed to do then?"

“I don’t know,” Arthor repeated again, looking away from her.

"You tell me that I can trust you, that you hope I can forgive you. You tell me that you love me, but your behaviour tells me otherwise. I don't know what to believe anymore, Arthor."

“I don’t know why I do those things to you, Leanah. I don’t want to. I love you, I really do. I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I don’t know why I keep doing it, though.”

"So I can't trust you? You told me just earlier that I could, but now I feel like I can't."

It was really just making Arthor frustrated, because he didn’t know what to believe either. He himself didn’t know if his words had been true, how could Leanah? It was so fucking stupid. Arthor should know if he meant what he said, but he didn’t. That meant that he couldn’t trust himself. Could Leanah? Probably not, and that just made Arthor angry at himself all over again.

“I don’t know, alright? I don’t know if you can trust me. So far, trusting me has worked out for a while until I manage to fuck it up all over again.”

"Then how can we be friends? How can you stand here and tell me that you need me and that you love me? You're messing with my head, Arthor."

“I do need you and I do love you. I’ve never lied about that,” Arthor sighed as he walked a few steps away from Leanah again, gathering his thoughts, “I want us to be friends. We were great friends, Leanah. I miss that.”

"I did so much for you, Arthor. I gave you so much of my care and affection, and you have treated me like I don't matter to you. I don't know what I want anymore."

This was making his head spin. Undoubtedly, Arthor could just tell Leanah some lie that would win her over again. He didn’t want to do that, though. Then he would just prove that he couldn’t be trusted. It was so fucking stupid and he wanted to tell her goodnight and leave her room, returning back to his.

“Of course you matter to me, Leanah. You’re so important to me,” Arthor said as he made his way back towards her again.
 
Hearing the truth about their relationship only upset Leanah. For many months she had ignored all the mistakes Arthor had made only so it would be easier for her to forgive him. She had been very attached to him in many ways because she had thought that he was such a good man. While they had been lovers, Leanah had been so convinced that he was treating her right. Now his words were making her see their relationship from a different perspective. In many ways, the words Arthor were saying were true. Leanah knew that, she had just ignored it.

Arthor had used her, hurt her and disrespected her while being horrible towards her.

Seeing the truth was difficult for Leanah. Since she had been so stubborn about Arthor being such a good man to her, she had no idea how to handle these new thoughts about him that rushed into her mind. Her mind kept arguing with itself as she wasn’t able to make up her mind about him. It made her frustrated as one part of her wanted to see Arthor as the good, protective friend he had been while the other wanted to hate him for how he had treated her. How could he tell her that and expect her to be able to forgive him?

“Oh, do I?” Leanah scoffed as she met Arthor’s gaze.

“Leanah.”

“Don’t tell me that I’m important and that I matter to you. It’s not fucking true, Arthor.”

"It is true, Leanah."

“Still you use me and hurt me like I don’t matter,” she snapped at him, raising her voice.

"If you wouldn't matter to me then I wouldn't be standing here."

At that Leanah shook her head with a slight chuckle at how absurd this situation was. She couldn’t believe Arthor right now. Neither could she believe herself that she was still letting positive thoughts about him into her mind. Standing there she wanted to tell him that she loved him, but she also wanted to tell him that she hated him. Couldn’t she just make up her mind? It didn’t seem like her thoughts wanted to stop pouring in though, making her only grow angrier with herself and Arthor as she furrowed her brows.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

"Yes, because that's the truth, Leanah."

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

"I'm not,” Arthor shouted at her.

Leanah stared at him then, feeling how difficult it was to breathe all of a sudden, but then she shouted back at him, “I can’t trust you, Arthor.”

"You can't. That's true. You can't trust me, because I'll just fuck you over again."

That was supposed to make Leanah relieved because now she wouldn’t have to fight an internal battle with herself on whether or not to trust him. Instead, it only made her angry because of how much time she had invested to their relationship, and now it seemed to have ruined them completely She raised her hands then pushing them against his chest rather harsh. How could he come here and expect her to be his friend, but then tell her that she couldn’t trust him? It made her so frustrated and so very upset that she had let him hurt her like this.

Arthor stumbled back, and Leanah didn’t close the distance between them then. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be near him or not. Gods, he fucking confused her, and she wanted to scream at him for being like that.

“Why should I let you stay then? You’re just going to fuck me over again. I can’t trust you. I don’t fucking matter to you, Arthor.”

"I already told you that I wouldn't be here if you didn't matter to me. I wouldn't be acting like this if I didn't care about you."

“But then you tell me I can’t trust you,” Leanah yelled at him.

When Arthor turned away from her, groaning, Leanah grew furious with him that he wouldn’t give her any form of closure. She wasn’t sure what to believe because he was telling her that she couldn’t trust him, but then telling her that she did matter to him. Leanah grabbed onto his shirt then, turning him around as her fingers grasped onto the fabric, holding onto it tightly as she forced him to face her. Her chest was slightly heaving from how worked up she felt, but Arthor was truly driving her mad now, especially when he didn’t look at her.

“You’re making this very difficult for me, Arthor.”

"Do you think this is fucking easy for me?"

“You seem to have a habit of hurting me so perhaps it is easy for you.”

"I don't want to hurt you, Leanah."

Leanah couldn’t help but scoff a little at that as she gripped onto his shirt a little tighter, holding him there in place. The naivety in her wanted to believe him, but she was so unsure about everything. She needed confirmation and reassurance. Arthor had to prove to her that he didn’t want to hurt her, but how was he supposed to do that. Even Leanah wasn’t sure how he would achieve that. She didn’t even know why she was acting like this. She just felt so fucking angry with him that he had treated her so unfairly, but also angry at herself for still loving him.

“But still you fucking do.”
 
It was becoming increasingly frustrating to talk to Leanah. Perhaps Arthor shouldn’t have come to her. Maybe he should’ve just let it go and moved on somehow, forget all about her and hope that she’d do the same. That sounded so impossible, though, and Arthor knew that it wasn’t realistic to do that. Leanah would always be on his mind, platonic or not he loved her too much to forget her.

With Leanah’s hands on him it was difficult for Arthor not to think what he could do to her. The need to touch her and to kiss her was appearing in his mind and body again, and he fought to push those thoughts away once more. He couldn’t make that mistake again. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t, so Arthor would resist whatever disgusting urge it was inside of him to do this.

“I don’t mean to.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

"If you say so."

It was a relief when Leanah let go of him and stepped away. It felt like Arthor could breathe again and he took a step back too as he looked down at his boots. He still wanted to desperately leave her room, but at the same time he couldn’t. It was all so fucking stupid. He was so fucking stupid.

“We never really fought when we were just friends,” he mumbled.

"How can we just be friends if I can't trust you?"

“Because being friends is different than being this. I never hurt you then.”

"And how am I supposed to forgive you and become your friend?"

“I don’t know,” Arthor groaned as he turned away from her, rubbing his face.

“Exactly.”

Another quiet groan left Arthor, and he wasn’t sure at all what to say. He wanted to fix things between them, but Leanah was right and he couldn’t force her to forgive him. It was all so complicated because of his stupidity, and he really hated himself for ruining what they had. So Arthor stayed quiet as he paced in the room, somehow not darting out of the door even though he wanted to so badly.

"I don't know what you fucking expect from me, Arthor. I don't fucking know what to do."

“You were right. This was a mistake. No matter how good it was, it was a fucking mistake.”

"You're the reason this was a mistake. We could have been wonderful together, Arthor, but you decided to fuck it all up."

“It was always going to end like this, Leanah. It doesn’t matter if I fuck up or not, we would still end up here.”

"No, we wouldn't. We could have parted maturely, instead, you chose to be immature about it and ruin everything we once had."

“Don’t act like I’m the only immature one here,” Arthor frowned as he looked over at her.

"Are you saying that I'm immature?"

“Yes.”

If Leanah wasn’t immature, then they likely would’ve never ended up here. She would’ve never allowed herself to do something so foolish as fall in love with him, and still love him after everything he’d done to her. It was clear to Arthor, but perhaps Leanah didn’t think so. He was no doubt worse than her, but they both had blame in this, not just Arthor.

“Fuck you.”

“You’re just proving my point.”

"What do you fucking want me to do then?" Leanah said as she closed the distance between them.

It felt like it was becoming Arthor’s most used phrase that night, but once again he mumbled, “I don’t know.”

"So there's nothing we can do."

“If we keep acting like this, then probably not.”

"I didn't want this to happen, Arthor, but you fucked up."

“I didn’t do it on purpose, for fuck’s sake.”

"I was always there for you. I never did anything to hurt you. If you knew that it would end like this then why did you agree on doing it?"

“Because I wanted it, I wanted you so badly. I didn’t want to worry about the future, I just wanted you.”

"I wanted you too. I fucking love you, Arthor. I love you a lot more than I should. I didn't want it to end like this."

Obviously Arthor didn’t want that either. He wanted things to go back to how they used to be and of course they couldn’t if they’d end on a note like this. They had to figure it out, but Arthor truly didn’t know how to do that. Was it supposed to be this hard or did Arthor just make it all worse by being a dick? He wanted to go back to how things used to be and he wanted to think that Leanah did too.

“I don’t either.”

"Why are we doing this?"

“I don’t know,” Arthor mumbled as he rubbed his hand over his face again.

"I don't know what to do."

“I don’t know either. I don’t want to lose you.”

"Do you think I want to lose you?"

“I’m sorry I fucked it all up,” Arthor said, nodding a little bit to himself, “I’m really sorry.”

"I'll miss you."

Did that mean that Leanah didn’t want him around anymore? Perhaps it did. Arthor knew he didn’t want that, even though it would be for the best for Leanah. He was still too selfish to completely let go of her. He couldn’t do that. It would be too hard to be without her, especially if he were to stay in the castle and see her every day.

“Is this it then?”

“I guess.”

“Does it have to be?”

“No.”

That calmed his racing mind down a little bit. Maybe there was still a chance that they could fix this. Arthor still didn’t know how and Leanah didn’t know either by the looks of it. But they had to figure out something. What if they wouldn’t? Arthor refused to think like that, though. He wanted her in his life, he so desperately needed her and he wasn’t ready to ever let her go.

“I don’t want it to end here.”
 
Once Leanah had managed to somewhat calm herself down, she realised that losing Arthor wasn’t what she wanted. They had to fix this. Though she was furious with him and his childish behaviour, she knew that they were both quite emotional now. He had hurt her so badly that it seemed impossible for her to forgive him now, but she knew that if they would both work to fix what they had broken, they perhaps she could find a way to trust him again. No matter if she wanted to hate him or not, they had to figure this out and make it work again.

Their friendship had been something Leanah had cherished. Every day for months she had loved seeing Arthor to gossip and talk to him about whatever was on her mind. She loved that he would escort her through the gardens and do silly things with her like that time they had gone out in the desert together. Their friendship had mattered so much to her, and she honestly didn’t want to lose that. Whether or not their relationship had been a mistake didn’t matter. It would be over now either way, and there was no point in dwelling on the past.

They could start over again.

Leanah could still love him, and Arthor could still love her, but as friends. Though she wouldn’t forget what they once had been to each other, she wanted to move on from the hurtful past. Whatever image she had of him in her mind, she wanted to push that away and start over, create a new image of him meaning she would give him a chance to redeem himself to her. She wouldn’t just forget about the mistakes he had done though. She’d remember them, but she wouldn’t let them bother her like they did now. That wasn’t healthy for her.

“It doesn’t have to end here.”

Arthor looked at her, and Leanah didn’t tear her gaze away from him now. If she would be kind enough to give him a chance she would learn from the past not to trust him too much and not to be too naive. They would both have to be patient with each other, but she decided there and then that it would be for the better if she would give him a chance, but not be too hopeful about it working. She’d try her best to make it work, but then she hoped Arthor would too. If not then there was no point in even trying or giving him a chance.

“Let’s start over. We will be patient with each other. I will give you a chance to prove to me that I can trust you. We will start fresh, learn from our past mistakes and I won’t be so naive,” Leanah sighed.

There was a slight pause before Arthor answered her then, "are you sure?"

“Yes,” she nodded.

Arthor stayed quiet for a little while then before he finally agreed with her, "let's start over then."

“Good.”

At that Arthor nodded and Leanah was glad that he agreed with her. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind from all those thoughts she’d had, wanting to start fresh. Being angry now wouldn’t help them, but she felt at a loss of words then. She wasn’t sure what to say to him now. Instead, Leanah closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him as she leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder. It didn’t matter if they deserved each other’s comfort or not. That was in the past now, and they were starting over.

A rush of that warm, comforting feeling Arthor had always been able to give her washed over her when he wrapped his arms around her. He seemed hesitant, but Leanah didn’t want him to worry right now. Her hands stroked over his back as she tried to soothe him. It would be alright. They would move on and learn from everything that had happened. What they had shared would linger on her mind as a nice memory to look back on, but nothing more than that except for it being something to learn from as well.

Leanah felt Arthor stroking his hand over her hair, making her sigh quietly as she squeezed her arms a little tighter around him. One day she would hopefully be able to forgive him, but she would have to work on herself. She knew that she was immature and naive, and that had to change. Only then did she imagine Arthor could also change his ways. As he squeezed his arms around her as well, she felt so comforted and safe, but she didn’t let that feeling last too long as she pulled away from him, taking a step back.

As their gaze met, Leanah let out a slight sigh before she broke the silence between them, “what do you want to do?”

"What do you mean?"

“I mean do you want to stay here or leave? Do you want to talk or? I don’t know.”

"What do you want? It's up to you."

“Stay?”

"Is that a good idea?"

“Perhaps not,” Leanah said, shaking her head a little at her own idea.

"Should I go?"

“That would probably be for the better. I don’t know.”

"Alright. I'll leave. I really do want to fix this, Leanah,” he nodded.

“I do too, Arthor.”

When Arthor nodded then, Leanah took another step away from him instead of giving him one last hug. She had to remember not to get too close to him too soon. As she stepped away though, she said goodbye to him hoping that maybe tomorrow they could see each other again and spend a little time together somewhere just to talk. It looked as if Arthor was upset, but she let him walk away, leaving the room. Hopefully he wouldn’t be so upset tomorrow as she looked forward to finding him and fixing their friendship.

Leanah looked forward to starting over.
 
tumblr_inline_nufetjEIUU1sc3ygs_250.gif

Conversations
Chapter CI
House Faerson
We were, we are, we will be.
Stormwind, Eastern lands of Aedighar
​
What had happened between Darron and Aryana had just happened. There wasn’t anything to it, not really. Darron didn’t think much of it and didn’t seem like Aryana did either. It had been nice and neither of them seemed to regret it, but that was about it. Would Darron have to tell Brynden about this as well? Was this worse than him being with Rhea? Darron wasn’t sure and he really didn’t want to find out, but he knew he’d have to eventually.

In Darron’s mind, it had only been something that he’d done to make Aryana happy. Perhaps it was stupid, no, it probably was stupid, but Darron thought he’d done a good deed. At least it felt like he’d calmed Aryana down somewhat when it came to this. Darron only worried about if Aryana thought more about it than what it had actually been. He didn’t want to end up leading her on, but Aryana should’ve known that he wasn’t exactly available like that.

It had been a long day again, because everyone was getting ready to the final battle in Wheldrake. They were approaching quickly and the excitement was bubbling up in camp. Darron found himself not really caring about it one way or another. He just saw it as another battle that he’d either survive or die in. Either way, it didn’t really matter to him.

Just as Darron returned to his tent and began to take off his armour and sword belt, he heard the curtains of his tent part and footsteps. Perhaps Darron should’ve been curious, but he wasn’t. It couldn’t be Elias, because it sounded a bit too light to be a man. That only really left one person that Darron could expect, so he didn’t bother to turn around as he was in the middle of putting his sword away.
“Darron.”

It was Aryana’s voice, so it confirmed his suspicion. Before Darron turned around, he finished what he was doing, though perhaps that was rude. He wasn’t sure and he thought that Aryana wouldn’t really care anyways. If Darron had learnt one thing from the night they’d spent together, it was that Aryana was a lot prettier than he’d thought before. Perhaps he just hadn’t bothered to notice before, but now it was obvious to him.

“Aryana.”

"Are you busy?"

“No,” Darron shook his head, though perhaps he should’ve lied as he desperately wanted to lay down and relax his sore muscles after fighting the whole day.

"Do you mind spending some time with me?"

“I don’t mind, no,” he shrugged as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

When Darron did that, Aryana sat down next to him. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea to sit on his bed, considering what had happened in Aryana’s tent, but Darron didn’t think much of it. It’s not like he had chairs in here that they could use, so the bed was the only real choice they had.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. You seem happy.”

"I am happy."

“Any reason for that?”

"I don't know. I just feel good, and I'm happy that I have you here."

“That’s good.”

At that, Darron smiled a little at her before he turned away again. Since he liked Aryana, it made him glad that she was happy. If everything would work out between her and Brynden, then Darron hoped that she would always be happy. She deserved a happy life, he knew that and hoped that Aryana would get it.

"Is there something wrong?"

“No, why?” Darron asked as he looked back at her.

"You seem a little distant."

“I’m not doing it on purpose.”

"I know. I just care about you, Darron."

“I’m alright, Aryana. I promise.”

Would he always be this miserable? Darron wondered that perhaps a bit too often. Somedays, he’d have moments where he’d almost feel like he used to, before he’d fall back into this dark pit. Darron wanted to feel happier, but he just couldn’t do it and that made him angry at himself. He didn’t know if he was doing something wrong or maybe not trying hard enough, but he felt like he’d never be able to get out of this mindset of his.

“Good,” Aryana said, resting her hand on his shoulder, stroking it with her fingers.

Somehow her touch reminded Darron of that night, and he couldn’t help but ask, “have you told anyone?”

"About us?"

“About what happened, yes,” he nodded.

“No.”

Then Darron nodded again. Really, he wasn’t even sure why he’d asked. Did it really matter? If Aryana had told Brynden about it, then Darron imagined he’d already be involved in it. If she would’ve told Antra, then Darron thought that it wouldn’t really matter all that much. He hadn’t told anyone, though he had almost wanted to tell Elias one time. Darron thought it was best kept between him and Aryana for now, though.

"Are you worried?"

“Not really.”

"Do you want me to tell Brynden?"

“I can tell him when I tell him about Rhea. He might kill me then, but…” Darron shrugged.

"I don't want you to get killed."

“I don’t imagine Brynden will be very happy to find out about everything, though.”
​
 
Quite often the thought of Darron would rush into her mind. Aryana couldn’t help it. What they had done together had been intimate and never had she shared such intimacy with someone before. For the past few months, she had thought she would share that with Brynden for the first time. That was her duty as a Lady, and it was expected from her to save herself for her husband. For twenty years, Aryana had been able to stay away from temptations, but then Brynden had disappointed her. He had slept with Lady Sarisa behind her back.

Though it wasn’t because of Brynden that Aryana had chosen to sleep with Darron.

After the conversation with Darron, Aryana had come to realise that doing something so intimate for the first time would have to be with someone she trusted. Someone she knew for sure wouldn’t hurt her. Darron was that person to her. Trusting Brynden was rather difficult since Aryana wasn’t sure where she had him right now. Their conversations were pleasant, and they had shared a few kisses, but after everything, it was still difficult for her to truly trust him. Perhaps one day she would, and maybe she should have waited.

But it had sounded so tempting to do it with Darron that night, and Aryana didn’t regret it.

The only problem Aryana had was whether or not she would tell Brynden about it. They weren’t having any problems with each other now, and she worried that he would grow angry with her or get furious with Darron. It didn’t sound like a good idea to her to tell him, and it was making her feel slightly guilty that she had chosen to do what she wanted instead of thinking about what Brynden might have wanted. What if he wouldn’t love her if she told him? Gods, she worried too much about it, but in the end, Darron had made her feel happy.

“I don’t know if you should even tell him about us. You could tell him about Rhea, but I don’t want him to hate me,” she mumbled.

"You think he'd hate you for this?"

“He could get angry with me, perhaps even hate me for it because I didn’t want him to do that with anyone.”

"I mean, I guess."

“You do what you want, Darron. If you want to tell him about everything, then I won’t stop you.”

If Darron wanted to be honest with Brynden about what he had done with Rhea and her, then Aryana would have to handle that situation somehow. She hoped that Brynden wouldn’t get angry with her because she had only done what she felt was right. Being intimate with Darron had been right in her eyes, and it still seemed like the right decision for her even if she worried that Brynden would hate her for it. Darron was a good man. He had treated her with kindness and patience, and Aryana had appreciated that.

"No. If you don't want me to tell him then I won't."

“It’s not my choice.”

"It involves you, so it actually kind of is,” Darron shrugged.

“Then tell him. I’ll handle it if he ends up getting angry over it.”

"I won't. You can tell him if you want."

Aryana sighed trying not to grow frustrated at how complicated their situation seemed to get, “okay.”

"What?"

At first, Aryana didn’t understand why he was looking at her like he was, or what he was asking of her, but perhaps she didn’t seem as happy anymore. It was difficult to explain because Darron did make her happy. What they had done made her happy, but it was the thought of Brynden that worried her. It was making her good mood dwindle, and that wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t good, but instead of telling Darron about that she just smiled at him sweetly, stroking her hand lightly over his back.

“Nothing.”

"Are you sure?"

“I’m sure, Darron.”

There was nothing Darron could help her with and there was nothing for Aryana to talk about regarding Brynden. She would either have to tell him the truth or not, and she didn’t want to make that decision yet. They were getting closer to Wheldrake now, and she imagined he was quite stressed. Telling him now only sounded like a bad idea. Perhaps after the war, if they would win, Aryana could tell him. That gave her a lot of time to think everything through. Now she just wanted to focus on Darron and her happiness instead of letting it dwindle more.

“Alright,” Darron shrugged.

“Are you worried about the war ending?”

"Not really. Are you?"

“I suppose I’ll be happy that it will be over, but I worry that we will lose or get killed.”

"If we do then so be it. That's war."

“I don’t want to die.”

If they would win the war, Aryana would be happy. She’d worry about what her life would be like after the war since she had grown so used to everything. All she knew was that she would marry Brynden and go back to Nilfgaard with him, but not much else. Most of all she wished that everyone would survive the war. She wasn’t dumb enough to think that this last battle wouldn’t be dangerous. It would likely be the most dangerous of them all, and she worried that she’d lose someone or that she herself would lose her life. Hopefully, that wouldn’t happen.
 
Telling Brynden didn’t excite Darron, but he thought that he should know one day. Whether it came from Aryana or him didn’t really matter, but it would just be right to be honest with him. Even if he would get mad at Aryana, though Darron thought that’d be hypocritical of him. After all, Brynden had fucked whores and Lady Sarisa, so Darron thought it wouldn’t be right of him to get mad for Aryana sleeping with someone.

When the conversation turned to the war, Darron felt easier talking about that, because that’s what he knew best. It was obvious that even though their win was almost secured, anything could happen. Even if they would win, there’d still be casualties. There’d already been a lot so far and there’d only be more, as terrible as that was. But that’s how war was, and they all knew it.

If they would win, and Darron was almost certain that they would, the women at least wouldn’t be harmed. They’d be out of harm’s way, Darron was sure that Brynden would make sure of that. Though if they’d lose then that’d be a different story entirely. Darron thought that nobody left at camp would be safe then. He knew men and he knew that war made them cruel. Brynden’s men were the same, but they never spoke about what they did after battles. Maybe that was better.

“I’m sure you’ll be safe here. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t worry,” Darron mumbled, moving his arm around her shoulders, “you’ll be alright.”

Obviously Darron couldn’t promise her that, but he did hope that Aryana would make it through this. It would really be the worst case scenario if she didn’t. Aryana leant against him then, resting her head on his shoulder, “thank you.” Darron sighed a little bit and nodded, stroking his fingers against her arm as he held her against him.

“Will you come with us to Nilfgaard?”

“I suppose I’ll probably be there for the wedding. Then I’ll go wherever your father needs me to go.”

“Good, because I need you.”

“You do?” Darron chuckled a little.

“I do.”

When Aryana chuckled, it made Darron smile a little bit. He wasn’t entirely sure if his presence would matter to her or not, but at least her saying that made him feel nice for a moment or two. Darron imagined that after the wedding they would rarely see each other. Perhaps if Lord Aeron would visit her or if Aryana would visit her father they would meet again, but Darron figured that it’d be very rare for that to happen.

“I’ll be there. There’s something I need to do in Nilfgaard, anyways.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Aryana nodded at that and pulled away from his embrace. Darron almost wanted to pull her back against him, but he thought that she might not want that. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it, either. Darron put both his hands by his hips on the bed as he looked at her again. Then the thought of breaking what he had said earlier came to him, and Darron wasn’t able to stop himself from speaking up again.

“She was pregnant when she died. I don’t think I told you that yet. I don’t want to talk about it, but I wanted you to know everything, so…”

When Aryana looked at him, Darron looked away, but his eyes went back to her when her hand cupped his cheek. It was so comforting, and he could almost ignore how hard his heart had began to beat when the words had left his mouth. Darron knew that even though it had become a little easier to talk about the whole thing, he still struggled a lot with it.

“Don't worry. I won’t ask any questions.”

“Thank you,” he nodded.

“I hope you will be happy one day, Darron.”

To that, Darron didn’t answer, he just leant his head against her hand slightly. He didn’t know if he would and he wasn’t sure if he could ever be truly happy again. Then Aryana pressed a kiss against his forehead and Darron instinctively laid his head on her shoulder from how heavy it felt all of a sudden. He wanted and needed her comfort, as thoughts he’d rather not have rushed through his mind again. Aryana’s arms wrapped around him then and Darron didn’t mind at all when she pulled him closer against him.

For now, Darron just wanted to sit here and enjoy the comfort that Aryana was giving him. He appreciated it greatly and he hoped that he wasn’t bothering her too much. Soon enough, he’d pull away from her again, but for now he wanted this and needed this too badly for him to even consider doing that.

“I’m here for you, Darron.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll always be here.”

“I appreciate that.”

Her fingers were stroking his hair and Darron closed his eyes so that he could focus on that instead of other things. Before Darron had never really needed things like this, but now that he’d found out how nice getting comfort actually was, he wanted it. Maybe it was stupid, it definitely wasn’t something a knight should do, but Darron didn’t really care all that much.

“Thank you for always being so kind to me.”
 
Knowing that Rhea had been pregnant when she had been murdered only made Aryana more upset that no one had known about it. She wondered if the situation would have been different had the people known the truth. It was easy for her to understand that Darron would have likely not wanted anyone to know while Rhea had been alive because of how wrong it all was, but she wished that she had at least known. Then perhaps she could have talked some sense into Brynden, and then everything would have been different. Now it was much too late.

It must have been upsetting for Darron as well which was why Aryana pulled him closer to her, stroking her hand over his hair. Now she wanted to sit here for hours with him to give him some company and comfort. Though her wish was that she wanted him to be happy, she understood that it would be difficult to feel happy after such a tragedy. Losing his lover and his child. Aryana didn’t even want to imagine that kind of pain.

The least Aryana could do was give Darron her affection. He deserved all the kindness and love he could receive now, and perhaps one day then he could find happiness somewhere. She didn’t expect that to be any time soon, but there had to be something that could give him some closure. Instead of letting herself worry her head over that, she focused on Darron, still stroking his hand over his hair and down along his spine to soothe him.

“I care about you, Darron. I want you to feel cared for, because you are,” Aryana mumbled.

Darron nodded before the silence settled between them. Aryana didn’t mind staying quiet as she wanted him to feel a little better with her comfort. If silence was what he needed, then she didn’t mind it. All she could hear was their breaths and the sounds from outside his tent. Knights were always loud, or that was her experience when it came to it. Often in the evening, she would hear them yell and laugh with each other. Darron didn’t seem like that type of knight anymore. Once he had been, but Aryana saw how Rhea had changed him.

With a small sigh, Aryana tightened her grip around Darron, pulling him even closer to her as she also moved closer to him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and it was such a sweet sensation. This war had for sure made them grow closer to each other, but she enjoyed his company a lot, so she didn’t mind that at all. She let out another sigh before finally pulling away from him, letting him get some space as she moved away.

"Thank you."

“You’re welcome,” Aryana smiled.

There was a slight smile resting on his lips as Darron nodded again. Aryana couldn’t help but smile back at him, as she brought her hand up to cup his cheek again. Ever since that night they had spent together, she had thought he was quite attractive. She hadn’t seen him in that way before, but Darron was a handsome man. She couldn’t deny that now as she kept her gaze on his. It was hard to tear her eyes away from him, especially when he leaned his head against her hand.

Gods, it must have been because they had been intimate together that Aryana felt so good around him now.

“Do you want me to stay here with you?”

It seemed like Darron hesitated with his answer before he spoke, "could you?"

“Yes. I can stay for however long you need me to,” Aryana reassured him.

"Then stay with me please."

It almost sounded a little sweet when Darron pleaded her to stay, but Aryana only found it slightly upsetting. Either way, she laid down against his bed which was much harder and smaller than hers. There was just enough room for the both of them as she pulled him down with her. As he laid down with her, his arms wrapped around her while he pulled her closer to him. Aryana moved to lay on her side so she could face him as she brought her arm to rest over his waist. She smiled slightly as she leaned forward to press her lips against his cheek.

When Aryana pulled away from his cheek, their gaze met and she didn’t mind laying there, watching him as he watched her in complete silence. He was stroking her hair while she traced her fingers along his back. They had never been this affectionate with each other before, but she had never felt so comfortable either except for when she spent the night with Antra. She moved her hand from his back and up to his cheek, stroking her thumb against his cheekbone. While she did that, Darron moved his hand to return the favour, stroking her cheek.

“I wish you could stay in the North with me,” she sighed.

"I doubt that'd be possible,” Darron mumbled.

“I know.”

"I suppose we'll see each other when you travel to the East or your father travels to the North."

“I hope so. I know I’ll visit as often as I can.”

"I'll miss you."

Darron looked away as he said that and Aryana knew she would miss him a lot too. He was the only one from the East here at camp that she could trust. The only one who really knew her. Antra was a close friend to her as well, but she had no idea if she were to be married off to some Lord somewhere. She doubted she would be living in Nilfgaard with her and Brynden. Then she wouldn’t have anyone except Brynden, and she wasn’t sure what that would be like, and she dreaded the thought of being alone with no one to trust.

“I’ll miss you too, Darron.”
 
Before the war, Darron would’ve never allowed himself to really enjoy affection this much or actually ask for it. Maybe it was just because it was Aryana or because he was so upset again, but Darron craved it now and he didn’t really feel ashamed from how much he needed it. He was showing Aryana how weak he really felt, but she didn’t judge him and he felt thankful for that. Her arms around him made him feel cared for, and that was something he was enjoying at the moment.

They’d always been friends, but only now Darron realised how much he actually felt for Aryana. Paired with everything that had happened, the knowledge that things would change and that Aryana wouldn’t be near anymore made Darron feel a bit worse than he’d anticipated. Since Darron had always been with House Faerson, he’d grown so used to Aryana that losing her would undoubtedly be strange.

“It’ll be strange not to see you around anymore.”

Initially, Darron had thought that Aryana would be Queen, since she was marrying Brynden. But he figured that wouldn’t be the case when she spoke of Nilfgaard and the North, though he didn’t really ask any further. Not like Darron really cared all that much, since her happiness would still depend on Brynden, not whether she was a Lady or something more. He doubted that Aryana cared about that either, though Darron thought she would’ve made a good Queen.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do in a place where I don't know anyone. I wonder if I'll feel at home in Nilfgaard."

“Well, you’ll have Brynden. Maybe Antra, if she won’t be married off just yet.”

"I know, but I'll miss the East."

“Visit whenever you can then. I’m sure your father would be happy about that.”

“I will.”

When she smiled, it was hard for Darron not to smile back. Something about her just made him feel comfortable and safe, so he couldn’t help but smile. That made Aryana scoot closer to him and Darron didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around her to pull her closer against his chest. Her hand had moved from his cheek to his back, as she stroked her fingers against his back. Darron in turn moved his hand to stroke his fingers through her hair.

Darron heard a sigh come from her before she pushed her leg to rest between his. He moved one of his legs to to rest over her thigh. Perhaps it was wrong to think so, but it had felt nicer when they were without clothes. It was like Aryana had heard his foolish thoughts, because she pulled away slightly to look at him. Darron kept playing with the strands of her hair as he looked back at her.

Aryana leant forwards then, and it was too tempting then. Maybe it was because Darron felt so empty and wanted to feel something again? He thought not, because he knew that if it was anyone else, then he wouldn’t have done so. There was just something about Aryana that made him forget and made him feel right. It was stupid, he knew that and she did, too, but the temptation was too hard to resist then and Darron leant forwards to press his lips against hers.

For a moment, Darron wondered if Aryana might pull away and scold him. Admittedly, sometimes he had misjudged similar situations and ended up with a slap and a curse thrown his way. But Aryana didn’t push him away, instead she kissed him back. Darron sighed into it and moved his hand away from her hair to instead cup her cheek. Aryana moved her leg away from him and pushed his leg off of her thigh too as she moved to lay on top of him instead.

As Darron rolled over to lay on his back, he pulled Aryana with him, wrapping his arms around her waist. When she bit down on his lip, Darron couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. It was still strange to kiss her, he wasn’t sure what he felt about that, honestly. It wasn’t bad, not at all, just strange. Aryana pulled away from his lips and chuckled too, and Darron thought perhaps she found it strange as well.

Instead of saying anything or kissing her again, Darron brought his hand up to stroke her hair out of her face. Perhaps Aryana did regret kissing him after all, because all she did was smile sweetly before she moved to lay back down on the bed again. Since Darron thought she wouldn’t like it, he kept his hands to himself and stayed on his back, looking up at the ceiling of the tent.

Though his thoughts of that became conflicting when he felt her fingers stroking against his chest. There was something so confusing about Aryana, but perhaps Darron was just too stupid to understand what her actions and words meant sometimes. Though perhaps Darron was just as confusing, as he spent one moment craving Aryana’s affection because of how much his loss had hurt him and the next he was kissing her. Eventually, Darron just decided that the whole situation was incredibly confusing.
 
tumblr-opzwsj-VYS81rdh5j2o8-r3-250.gif

Escaping
Chapter CII
House Wynver
Forwards From Beneath
Wheldrake, Crownlands of Aedighar
​
Uncontrollable chaos plagued through the city. From the castle, Trevas could see and hear everything. Women were screaming as they ran after their children, trying to get them indoors, into safety where their men would wait for the Northerners to rummage through their homes, trying to protect their family. Soon they would be slaughtered, raped and thousands of children would either get the same fate as their parents or be left as orphans. Homeless as the city they once belonged to would burn and perish while savages celebrated their victory.

The news of the war approaching had spread like wildfire. For such a long time it had only been a rumour. Trevas had never announced until a few days ago, and now the Northerners had been spotted not far away from the city.

It wasn’t much better in the castle. There were enough resources in the castle to feed everyone who lived there for a year, perhaps even two. Trevas doubted there would be a siege. That hope he had once had that he could have won the war had disappeared once the Westerners had taken their army and left. Now a victory didn’t sound so sweet anymore. It sounded like painful years of being the King who wasn’t able to please the people. A King who was destined to fail as soon as he had been born. There was no hope for him anymore.

Letting the Northern savages through the gate would save everyone so much pain. No one would starve. If they were lucky, they would be given quick deaths, but Trevas knew that wouldn’t happen. Many would be tortured, but he barely cared about that. The people didn’t matter anymore. His duty and his responsibility didn’t matter anymore. If there was anything that mattered, it was getting Ashara and Alys into safety. They would get to sail over the sea and get so far away from the war as they could before it would be too late.

As the people panicked, Trevas stayed calm. He would welcome the Northerners and let them take what they so badly desired. He tried to reassure the people in the castle as best as he could, but it didn’t seem to work as he didn’t genuinely worry about them. There were a few members of the small council that had gotten a warning. Trevas had told them to leave, take their families far away from the capital while they still could, but the rest didn’t matter to him. If they’d die horrible deaths at the hands of Lord Brynden Rhyne, Trevas didn’t care.

Once nightfall came, the city became quiet.

There was a fleet by the bay waiting for them now, but Trevas knew he would break his promises. He wouldn’t go with Alys and their unborn child. Neither would he be there to take care of Ashara and her unborn bastard. What purpose would he have with them? He no longer had a purpose, and he wished to give himself the same fate he had given Katlyn. If only she would have been here now then perhaps she could have saved them all, but it was much too late for that. Trevas had sealed his own fate when he had executed Lord Yan Rhyne in cold blood.

Trevas walked through the empty hallways of the castle. It had become cold as winter had approached them. He didn’t hurry towards his bedchamber where his wife likely laid sleeping, not aware of what would happen now. There was no need to hurry. Soon Alys would be gone, but safe.

Without knocking at the door, Trevas entered the quiet chamber. He could see the silhouette of her small frame on the bed, covered by blankets. It was a shame that he had started to like her. Such an innocent woman with a kind heart, but she didn’t belong with him. She deserved much better than to carry his child and be married to a liar like him. He dreaded having to tell her that he wouldn’t come with them, but it was for the better. She would be free to marry a new man. She could learn to love and be loved back which Trevas wasn’t able to give to her.

There was only one person Trevas loved, and she had been gone for so long. He knew he’d never love again.

Even if Trevas would have tried, it wouldn’t have worked. He knew it was wishful thinking and soon enough his old habits had devoured him again. He walked over to their bed. She was breathing heavily, looking so peaceful as Trevas lit the candle by the bed to light up the room. Carefully he leaned over her, stroking her dark hair behind her ear as he let out a quiet sigh. He felt bad for her, truly bad for her and he wished he hadn’t brought her into this. Alys deserved much better, but he hoped she would find happiness somewhere.

“Alys,” Trevas whispered as she sat down at the edge of the bed.

There was no response, and Trevas wondered if he should have let her sleep. It was much safer to leave now, but she looked so calm. He expected that she wouldn’t be so calm when she’d hear that he had broken his promise. Either way, Trevas carefully touched her arm to nudge it. He said her name again, a little louder than a whisper. At that, she moved, and he could barely hear her mumble his name. That made Trevas move his hand to stroke her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her skin to soothe her even though he had no idea if it would work.

“You have to wake up,” he said.

"But I'm tired,” Alys mumbled.

Her hand was covering his, and her touch felt sweet though Trevas hadn’t found it in him to get used to it quite yet. Now it would never happen either, and he wasn’t sure if it was a relief or not. It would be a relief for her, that he was sure of since he had caused her so much pain, and now he wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore. No one would be able to hurt her. He had made sure that there would be people ready to take care of her, and she would have enough gold to get whatever it was she would need for her, their child and Ashara.

“You have to, Alys.”
 
Alys wasn’t sure how she managed to fall asleep that evening. Everything was so loud outside and inside, and yet Alys fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Perhaps it was the child making her so exhausted. Without it, Alys imagined that she might’ve stayed awake the whole night, worrying about everything that was happening. Gods, it was terrifying.

The day before, Alys had spent in the Sept with other women, praying and singing to the Gods. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was praying for. Mercy, strength, forgiveness? Alys didn’t know, but she didn’t really try too hard to figure it out. Mostly it just felt like she was there to be there, and not much else. She didn’t even bother to really comfort the women around her apart from some meaningless phrases. It was pointless, really, most of them, their husbands, children, they would all be dead by tomorrow.

Would she be dead too? Alys knew that she was going to leave the city, but she had also thought that the Northmen wouldn’t arrive so soon. Did their early arrival mean that that plan was ruined now? Alys didn’t know and it frightened her, but she hadn’t seen Trevas to ask him about it. Instead, she’d just gone to sleep. Perhaps the Northmen would take the city while she slept and she’d die in her bed. In a way, that sounded almost peaceful.

Though those thoughts didn’t linger in her mind for long, because Alys knew that she didn’t want to die. She felt hopeless now, but Alys knew that she wanted to live and find happiness somehow. She was so young, so good, she didn’t deserve to die. It would be so unfair for her life to be taken away from her. Alys wished she would’ve never married Trevas, then she would be safe at home with her parents.

Her mind was filled with worried thoughts, but that night she did dream of home. She hadn’t done that in a long time, and Alys realised that she did miss it. It wasn’t great to live there, but at least she had lived then. In Wheldrake, Alys felt like anything but the Queen. She was just there and not much else. Only with Trevas did Alys really feel like herself, but only rarely did she feel truly happy.

Too soon were her dreams interrupted by a nudge against her arm and Trevas’ voice saying her name. Perhaps that was part of her dream, sometimes he was there after all. Still, Alys couldn’t get herself to truly wake up just yet. She felt so tired and all she wanted right now was to escape reality for a little while longer. Surely whatever it was could wait.

Whatever she mumbled then sounded like gibberish to Alys, but she didn’t bother to repeat what she was trying to say. It was probably stupid anyways. She held onto his hand with both of hers, trying to get some comfort out of all of this. Again, Alys heard her name come from him and he nudged her with his hand again, which made her frown a little as she opened her eyes slightly.

The room was dark, but some light came from the bedside and Alys assumed it was a candle. She didn’t know how much she had slept for, but it felt like not enough. Alys pulled away one hand to rub against her eyes, trying to wake herself up a little more that way.

"Are you okay?"

At that Alys nodded, “I’m just tired.”

"That's okay."

When Alys yawned, she hid her face in her hands, before planting them on the mattress as she sat up slightly. She still didn’t feel quite awake, but Alys knew she had to get her head away from the pillows so she wouldn’t get tempted to just go back to sleep again. Alys leant back against the headboard behind her and looked around the room as she tried to wake up, holding the blankets against her chest.

"You have to get ready."

“For what?”

Only now did Alys really realise what was going on. Had something happened outside? That must’ve been it, otherwise she doubted that Trevas would’ve woken her up in the middle of the night. Alys could feel the sleep leave her immediately, as her heart began to beat quicker in her chest. Were the Northmen finally here? Was this it?

"To leave Wheldrake."

So the plan wasn’t ruined, after all. That did make Alys calm down a little bit. That was good - she would get out of here. The future did scare her, though. So many things could go wrong, and what if Alys still wouldn’t be happy wherever they’d end up going? At least she’d be alive for a while longer, though. That was good.

“Right now?”

"Yes. There are ships ready to sail for Aysenore tonight."

“You could’ve told me before I went to sleep,” Alys mumbled, running her fingers through her hair in an effort to comb it a little bit.

"I know, but I was busy. I had to get everything ready."

“I need my handmaidens.”

"I can help you."

That would work, too. Alys watched him as he stood up from the bed. She still didn’t love him, and she wasn’t sure if she ever would. Maybe Alys would love their child, though. No, of course she would love their child. How could she not? Alys pushed those thoughts out of her mind then as she looked towards the wardrobe, “could you find me a dress?”
 
After this Trevas would have to go to Ashara. Then he’d likely walk them down to the harbour where they would go onboard one of the ships. They wouldn’t be alone. He had made sure that they would have enough men to be safe in Aysenore. They would also have enough resources for their long journey, enough ships to make sure they would also be safe on the sea. It was carefully planned out with a few people he genuinely trusted. He knew that Alys and Ashara would be in safe hands once he’d let them go while he stayed in Wheldrake.

Since Alys was barely awake, Trevas figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her just yet that he wouldn’t be coming with her. He would never be the father to her child. That wasn’t what he had wanted for them. He had wanted so much more, but it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t difficult to see that, and there was no point in trying to make it work either. Soon the Northerners would be here, and they had no time to waste.

When she asked him to find her a dress, Trevas nodded before he walked towards the large wardrobe. As he looked through the many dresses, he tried to find one with long sleeves. It would be cold out on the sea, and though she’d likely cover herself up with something more than a dress, he wanted to make sure she’d feel comfortable. He pulled a dress out of her, walking over to the bed again. Since he wanted to show her some respect, he laid the dress down before turning around slightly so he wouldn’t be staring at her.

As Trevas stood there, he fumbled with his fingers, listening to Alys shifting and moving. Once he assumed that she would likely have the dress on, he turned his head just enough to look in case she wouldn’t be finished. The dress hung loosely on her shoulders as the laces weren’t tied. This wasn’t the first time he’d tie the laces of a dress, and he imagined she couldn’t tie them by herself since it was usually her handmaidens who did that.

Trevas then walked over to her to stand behind her as he began tying the laces.

Only when Trevas assumed that the laces were tight enough to hold her dress did he step away with a slight sigh. She was a beautiful woman, and he felt bad that he wouldn’t be able to be the man she deserved. It was for the better in the end, and he hoped that she would understand that as well. If not then he hoped Ashara would understand. He wasn’t sure how his daughter would react to everything, but he imagined she wouldn’t be happy.

“If there’s anything you want to take with you I’d figure that out now,” Trevas said.

"Is there anything I should bring?" Alys asked as she looked back at him.

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged.

"I suppose I won't need anything then."

Alys turned away from him, and Trevas walked over to the table where the wine stood. If he was going to tell her that he had lied to her, then he needed something to give him some courage. He filled up his cup just enough for him to be able to drink it all at once. The warmth it gave him was comforting. Nothing comforted him quite like wine. She had tried many times, but over and over again he had seen how it was only turning into him using her for her care. It wasn’t good, but he couldn’t help it. Breaking his old habits had become so fucking difficult.

"Are they closer now?"

“I imagine they will be at the gates by dawn.”

"Oh..."

“You don’t have to worry. You won’t be here,” he said in an attempt to reassure her.

"That doesn't mean I can't be frightened."

“I know,” he mumbled.

It was so clear to Trevas that Alys was with child. Though he wasn’t sure if her sudden change in her behaviour was because of the child or the fact that the truth had come out about his behaviour. Either way, he knew better than to argue with her now. He didn’t want to anger her when she was so vulnerable, even if he imagined that she wouldn’t be happy at all very soon. Trevas kept reminding himself that it was for the better and that there was nothing else he could do about it. She had to understand that.

"When do we have to leave?"

Trevas watched her as she sat down on the bed, but then he tore his gaze away at her question, “I’m not coming with you.”

"What?" Alys said after a small pause.

“You and Ashara are leaving soon. I imagine they’re ready now, but I haven’t woken up Ashara yet.”

"But you said you'd be coming with us."

As he heard Alys stand up from the bed, Trevas looked over at her. There was no clear expression on his face as he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. If she’d get angry with him or refuse to leave, he’d have to get the guards to carry her out. He didn’t want that to happen since he wanted this to happen as quietly as possible. Now he wondered if it would have been better to get the Maester to help him calm her down a little so they wouldn’t start arguing, but that would have been unfair of him to do.

“I know. I know I promised you that I’d come with you, but I’m not. I’m staying here.”
 
When Trevas said that he wouldn’t come with them, Alys could only think about how he’d broken his promise and how he’d lied to her again. Though Alys didn’t love him, she did care about Trevas, so knowing that he would die soon hurt her. Most of all it annoyed her that he’d betrayed her again. Promises were supposed to be kept, but apparently Trevas didn’t quite agree with that.

While Alys realised that perhaps Trevas was making the right decision, she did selfishly want him to be by her side. How could she do this without him? It was his child too, Alys wanted him to be there for her and help her with everything. Her child would need their father, but now they would only be able to read about him in history books. It was so stupid and unfair, and it made Alys pout a little.

“Why?”

"I'm letting the Northerners through the gate. I'm letting them get what they want."

That would only end up with Trevas’ death, which was what Lord Brynden and his men undoubtedly wanted. Alys had thought that Trevas wouldn’t give them that pleasure, but apparently she’d been wrong. She thought he was more stubborn than that, more self-preserving, but that wasn’t the case judging by his decision to stay.

“You’ll just give Lord Rhyne what he wants? Maybe make it even easier for him by stabbing yourself, so he doesn’t have to bother.”

“Alys.”

“Gods, Trevas,” Alys rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking away from him.

"I'm sorry, Alys, but I don't deserve to come with you. You deserve much better than me. I will never be the man for you."

“Yes, I know that,” she frowned.

Though Alys realised that everything Trevas said was true, she still needed him to come with her. She didn’t want to go to the other side of the world without him. Now, Alys would be stuck with his daughter and their child in a land she wouldn’t know. Having Trevas would at least give her some comfort, but now he was ruining that too. Gods, he ruined absolutely everything.

"You'll be better off without me."

“In Aedighar, certainly. This is different, though. How the fuck am I supposed to do this without you?”

"You'll have Ashara, and you're not safe in Aedighar. You'll be slaughtered and raped if they find you here."

Instead of answering, Alys groaned quietly out of frustration and walked over to the window to look outside. She realised that she wouldn’t be safe, at least not while she had Trevas’ child. Though she doubted that would matter. Alys didn’t think many men would fight for that child if the opportunity would arise. Maybe Aysenore was her only chance, but it sounded so absolutely dreadful, especially now without Trevas.

“I’m sorry, Alys,” Trevas said as he walked over to her again.

“If you felt bad about it, then you wouldn’t be doing this,” Alys frowned.

"That's not true."

“Oh?” she scoffed, turning around and leaning back against the wall behind her.

"I'm doing this for your own good. This is for the better for everyone, Alys."

“That’s so stupid,” Alys mumbled.

"Fine, then I'm stupid and this is stupid, but that doesn't matter."

At least they agreed on that. Everything about this was stupid. Trevas could claim that he was doing it for those around him, but Alys thought he was just being selfish, even if it would result in his death and he knew it. If Trevas would’ve truly cared about them, then he would’ve gone with them. It was that simple. Obviously he didn’t.

“I suppose it doesn’t, but I’m glad we agree on that.”

"It doesn't matter if you're angry with me now. You're leaving tonight, and then you don't have to worry about it anymore."

“Actually, I think I might, considering that I’m carrying your child.”

"I want to be there for you, but I can't."

“If you wanted to be there, then you would be.”

"For fuck's sake, Alys. I want to be there for you, but you deserve better than me. I will only make your life miserable."

“I don’t doubt that, but without you it’ll be only worse.”

"You can find another man who will love you and cherish you. I'm giving you a chance to be happy with someone else."

“I’m sure there’s hundreds of men who’ll fight for the hand of a widow with a child.”

That sounded absolutely ridiculous to Alys. It would’ve been wonderful, that was true, and Alys wanted a man by her side that would treat her the way she deserved. But who would want her when she’d already been someone else’s? Perhaps a fourth son with an ugly face and no gold. That didn’t exactly sound like the kind of man that Alys wanted for herself. Gods, she’d die alone.

"Do what you want then, Alys. Since you don't want to open your eyes and see what I'm doing for you, I don't fucking care what happens."

“You’ve never cared.”

"Yes, I fucking cared. I would have never done this for you had I not cared."

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Alys mumbled, raising her hands to rub them against her face in an effort to calm herself.

"You're the one not able to see that I have planned this out for you so you can be safe."

“I’ll be lonely and sad, but at least I’ll be safe,” she chuckled, shaking her head a little, “great.”
 
Arguing with Alys was exactly what Trevas hadn’t wanted, especially not now when she was so sensitive. To him, it seemed as if her emotions had heightened ever since she had gotten pregnant. That only reminded him of how difficult it had been with Katlyn when she had been pregnant. Women were difficult, to say the least, and Trevas didn’t understand how he had managed to live over twenty years with his wife and two daughters. He knew deep down that it was only a phase, and soon enough Alys would find herself again, but he wouldn’t be there then.

Trevas understood her anger and frustration. Though he didn’t appreciate that she didn’t seem to understand his reasons for not coming with her, he understood that she would feel upset since he had promised her that he would. He didn’t want to get angry with her, but the things she was saying were making him both frustrated and upset. Now he could only pray that Ashara would take it more lightly than her. If not then he would happily fulfil Alys’ wished and stab himself to make it easier for Lord Brynden. What would the point be then?

Now Trevas wished that he had listened to Katlyn. He was angry with himself that he had shoved her aside because of their arguments, and how she had failed to give him what he wanted. Then Alys would have married some other Lord somewhere, and Trevas could have tried to find happiness with Katlyn.

Instead, Trevas had ruined both his own life and everyone else’s. Her words made him sigh as he tried to calm himself down, “I’m sorry.”

Alys only chuckled at his words, and it was so clear to him that she was frustrated with him. There was nothing he could do about it. He could come with them, but what would happen then? She couldn’t trust him, and neither would she love him. They could never be good together, and Trevas could never be good to her. He scoffed at her chuckle and at how childish she was acting. It was almost impossible to keep himself calm as he felt the need to yell at her to tell her to quit acting like a child. She was so young though.

“I don’t want to argue with you, but you’re being so childish.”

"Sure. I'm being childish. You're the one avoiding every bit of responsibility and duty you have."

“You would be so much happier without me. I won’t be a good father to your child. I won’t be a good husband to you. I’m sorry, but that is the truth, and I’m doing you a favour here,” Trevas sighed.

"I didn't expect you to be either of those things. I just wanted you to be there, even if you would be absolutely horrible."

“What is the point of that? So I can torment you for the rest of your life?”

"Perhaps you'd find it in yourself to help me raise your child. Or try to do that, at least."

That only made Trevas feel guilty. There was no doubt that he wanted to be there for their child. He also wanted to be there for Ashara when she would birth her bastard, but he thought he was showing them mercy by letting Lord Rhyne take his life in Wheldrake to save many from the chaos of the war. He was also giving Ashara and Alys a chance to live safely, far away from Aedighar where they would be treated like livestock. But Alys seemed obsessed with the idea of him being there for her child, though he would do no good.

“I sealed my fate once I decided to execute Lord Yan Rhyne. I have come to accept my fate, and I know I deserve it. Nothing can change my mind, Alys. I have already decided I’m staying.”

"I'll be sure to tell my child many stories about their father."

“Tell them that I am a horrible man who murdered my own family. Tell them I used you and lied to you so I could put a child in you. Tell them I caused a war to ripple through the world, killing thousands of men, tearing families apart. Tell them all that, and I’ll die a happy man knowing you are being honest with your child.”

“At least one of us is capable of honesty.”

“Yes, at least one of us is,” Trevas scoffed.

There seemed to be no way for him to talk some sense into Alys. She must have been blinded by her own anger as Trevas didn’t understand how she couldn’t accept that this was how things were going to be. No matter how bad he’d feel about it. No matter how fucking guilty he would feel, Trevas wouldn’t come with them. Then the war would be going on forever. People would get tortured, and there would be spies coming for them. He hoped if he gave Lord Rhyne the satisfaction of killing him, he’d leave Alys and Ashara alone.

But Alys again only chuckled at his words.

“You will have to leave soon. I can come down with you to say goodbye, but I assume you don’t want that.”

"I might call you a bastard in public then. We wouldn't want that,” Alys mumbled.

“Call me whatever you want, Alys. I don’t care. At dusk tomorrow I will likely be dead anyway.”

Trevas walked over to the table with his cup and the pitcher. It would soon belong to the Northerners. He imagined they would melt down every cup with a serpent snaked around the stem as a symbol to House Wynver. Their banners would be torn down, and the crimson colour that was decorated almost everywhere would likely vanish as well. It didn’t belong to him anymore, and he knew that almost too well.
 
It always made Alys cry whenever she argued with someone. She wasn’t entirely sure if they were always tears of anger or if arguing just made her incredibly upset. Either way, Alys expected to break down this time as well. She likely wouldn’t have even needed the argument. Everything was just so fucking wrong. What would life be like if this had never happened to her? Would she have been happier?

Perhaps Alys shouldn’t have been so harsh with Trevas now, but she was so upset that she couldn’t help herself. Everything was so unfair. Trevas had pulled her into this life and ruined her, used her and now he was making it worse. Maybe a new start somewhere completely else was what Alys desperately needed, but right now it just sounded so frightening, so lonely. She hated the idea of it.

“Are you not at all afraid of dying?”

"I don't know."

That was so foreign to Alys. Death was so uncertain and frightening, that she was filled with panic as she thought of how big the odds were that she’d die soon. To her, it almost seemed like Trevas didn’t care or perhaps even wanted it. Gods, he was strange. Alys looked away from him then, fumbling with her hands as her mind raced with every way her story might end. None of them sounded very pleasant.

"I know I am breaking my promises, and I know I am disappointing you, but this is what I have to do, Alys."

At that, Alys just nodded her head because she knew that if she’d open her mouth, she’d just yell at him again. She didn’t want to do that, because Alys already felt the tears stinging at her eyes, and then they would definitely flow over her cheeks uncontrollably. It was inevitable, but Alys didn’t want to cry just yet. Preferably, she could do that when she was alone in her cabin.

"I don't want you to forgive me. You don't have to understand if you don't want to, but please get on that ship with Ashara and get yourself to safety."

Maybe one day Alys would forgive him, but she wasn’t entirely sure. She did feel slightly thankful that he was getting her out of the city after all. It was kind of Trevas to give her a way to escape all of this, but Alys didn’t want to admit that just yet. She didn’t doubt that she’d get on that ship, because what other choice did she have? If Alys would stay in the city, she would definitely not make it until tomorrow.

“I will.”

“Good.”

Though Alys’ eyes were still glued to the floor, she heard his footsteps approaching her. Alys did want to be stubborn and push him away when one of his hands went to touch her shoulder while the other one rested on her stomach. She couldn’t do that though, because in a way, his touch did feel comforting through it all. It was stupid, and Alys knew she was being an absolute fool, but she did want to at least get some comfort out of someone before she’d have to leave this all behind.

"I'm sorry I won't be there for you,” Trevas said as his fingers stroked against her stomach.

Instead of answering, Alys nodded and looked at him again, finally, pouting a little again. Now that she was looking at him, she realised that she would miss him, even if he was stupid and caused her more harm than good. It was silly, but Alys couldn’t really help it. She’d grown used to him and his ways, and without him, life would be strange. Better, perhaps, but strange nonetheless.

"Do you want to be escorted by a guard, or should I escort you?"

“I’d rather go with a guard,” Alys mumbled.

“Okay,” Trevas nodded, pulling away from her.

Though Alys didn’t let him pull away too far away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to press her lips against his. At least this part of their relationship always made Alys happy, or at least distracted enough. It seemed like it surprised Trevas and Alys didn’t blame him, but she did appreciate it when he kissed her back, moving his hands to her waist.

One of Trevas’ hands went to her hair, and Alys moved her hand to rest on his wrist. He pulled away slightly from the kiss, instead pressing his lips against her forehead. Alys sighed at that and looked up at him, stroking her fingers against his skin, while she held him close with her arm around his neck.

"I'll have to go wake Ashara soon,” Trevas mumbled as he pulled her closer to him.

Though Alys didn’t really care that much about Ashara, she nodded her head a little bit before she leant forwards to kiss him again. As they kissed, Alys stroked her fingers against the back of her neck and moved her other hand to rest on his cheek. Trevas was stroking her hair and holding onto her waist, and it felt so sweet, making Alys think for a moment that nothing was wrong at all.

 
Kissing Alys was both a relief and an uncomfortable situation to be in. It wasn’t her touch and her lips that were uncomfortable, but the absurdity of what would happen soon. Any man would have likely called him a fool for leaving his wife to birth his child all alone. It was wrong in so many ways, but they were at war and death was certain. Trevas wouldn’t be able to avoid death. Even if he were to go with them, he’d have Northern spies at his back, hunting down every move he made as they would likely try to kill him.

That wasn’t a life Trevas wanted to live. Afraid and on the run from the Northern wrath for the rest of his life. He didn’t want to burden Alys with that life either. She deserved to live in peace somewhere with her child. Without him, she would have nothing to worry about. She would have men and women by her side, ready to answer to every need she would have. Ashara would be there with her, and he hoped that his daughter wouldn’t cause Alys too much trouble. They would have each other, and Trevas calmed himself down with that thought.

Feeling her fingers stroking against his neck was comforting. Trevas didn’t really want to admit that, but it felt good. Perhaps it was because he knew this was the last time he’d ever feel comfort. He doubted that Lord Rhyne would give him a comfortable death, but that didn’t matter. He was ready for it, even if he felt afraid. If it would be painful, he wouldn’t care too much. He knew he deserved it after all the pain he had caused to innocent people like his family. They hadn’t deserved this life he had given them, but he couldn’t do anything about that now.

Trevas pulled slightly away from the kiss to cup her face and to meet her gaze. Alys was a beautiful woman. It was unrealistic of him to think that it would be easy for her to find love, but he imagined that some man would be able to see her beauty and want to love her, regardless of her past. He knew that only his wishful thinking, but he did want her to find love somehow. A sad smile rested on his lips as he stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones.

“I regret hurting you like I did, Alys, but I don’t regret marrying you.”

There was no answer from Alys. She only nodded and stroked his cheek. He understood her pain and her frustration. He didn’t need her forgiveness for this. If she would actually tell their child horrible stories about him, then it didn’t matter. He understood, and he didn’t think he deserved to be remembered as a good man. If Alys wanted to hate him for the rest of her life, he was glad that soon enough he wouldn’t be able to bother her anymore. Trevas pulled away from her embrace with a sigh then, looking away from her.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to take with you?”

When Alys didn’t answer again, Trevas looked at her to see her nod at his question. Perhaps it would be for the better now if he’d get the guards to escort her safely to the harbour and board her onto the ship. Then he’d go to wake Ashara. He didn’t want to waste too much time saying goodbye, but he imagined it would be difficult to deal with Ashara considering she was also pregnant and likely emotional. He’d miss her because he loved his daughter, but he hadn’t been able to show her that for years, so he imagined she wouldn't miss him too much.

“Alright, I’ll go get you the guards then.”

Trevas watched her as Alys walked over to get her cloak before he turned to walk towards the door. While he assumed Alys was getting ready, he opened the doors and stepped outside. The two guards who stood there looked at him as he told them to escort their queen to the fleet. Just like Alys, they didn’t say a word, only nodded. Soon enough she came out of their chamber, and Trevas looked at her again. He felt sorry for her, truly he did, and he reached for her to pull her into a tight hug as this would be the last time they’d see each other.

“Goodbye, Alys,” he mumbled.

It was nice that Alys hugged him back and he had gotten used to her silence now. Trevas imagined she didn’t want to speak to him, which he understood. After a while, he pulled away from her, and without saying another word, he turned around before walking down the hallway towards Ashara’s bedchamber.

The walk to Ashara wasn’t hurried either, though they didn’t have a lot of time. Trevas found himself deep in his thoughts while he walked through the hallways. He was unsure if it truly scared him that he would die soon. He wondered if he wanted to give Lord Rhyne a fight, but he doubted he would. If anything he would have let the Northman kill him immediately, but he knew he would want the man to know what he had caused by avenging his pathetic father.

Was the war truly worth it?
 
Last edited:
giphy.gif

The King.
Chapter CIII
House Rhyne
May all be as one
Nilfgaard, Northern lands of Aedighar
​
They broke into the city at dawn. Unlike the King, Brynden actually fought alongside his men. Sure, he could’ve died, but Brynden didn’t think of himself as much more than the soldiers he commanded. They were all equal as they barged through the gates with their weapons lifted high above their heads. To Brynden, it almost felt like the King’s men weren’t even really trying. Perhaps they’d already accepted their fate.

Still, it took hours until they made their way through the streets, approaching the castle. Bodies hid the cobblestone paths under their feet, and Brynden couldn’t remember anymore how many corpses he’d walked over. They were dead, he was sure that they wouldn’t mind, even if it would make Brynden uncomfortable once the adrenaline would leave him and he’d be alone to think about all of this.

It wasn’t hard to see that the men around him were getting excited. They had the taste of victory already in their mouths, and Brynden couldn’t really blame them. It was easier than he’d ever expected, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of him or the King that it was so. Either way, Brynden wouldn’t complain, unless this would turn out to be some sort of trap. Though he doubted it.

His whole body felt sticky and wet, and Brynden knew that he was completely covered in blood by this point. At this point, though, Brynden didn’t really care. None of the men he saw in similar conditions seemed to mind either. They all smelled like death, but for now they would all endure it. At least most of it wasn’t their blood, that’s what mattered most.

Most of Brynden’s men were still fighting the King’s army when he stormed into the castle with those that followed him. They took care of the guards and spread out in the hallways. Brynden figured there were probably women holed up somewhere in the castle, and right now he didn’t want to think about what his men might do to them. Right now, Brynden only had one goal in mind that he needed to desperately achieve.

There were some that begged for mercy, and Brynden wasn’t cruel therefore he would give them another chance after the war to bend their knee to their new ruler. They were fighting someone else’s war, it wasn’t their fault they were born in the wrong kingdom. While his men searched the castle for people and gold, Brynden separated from them. When someone offered to come with him, he declined. They could wait outside or go join the others in raping the castle.

They were close enough to a pair of large doors that could only lead to the Throne Room. The guards next to it had been killed just moments ago, and Brynden had a clear path to it. He figured there might be more men inside, but did he truly care? If that was so, then it would be his own stupidity that was the death of him. Brynden wouldn’t blame anyone but himself for that.

Some of his men stayed behind to wait and Brynden paid them no mind as he walked towards the double doors and pushed them open. The room was grand, but perhaps it only seemed so because it was so very empty apart from the King. Brynden let the doors behind him fall shut again, the noise echoing around the room much louder than he’d anticipated.

The grip on the handle of his sword tightened as Brynden made his way towards the Throne. The King sat on his Throne, the one for the Queen sat empty next to him. Brynden assumed that she might’ve been with the other women or escaped. Her fate didn’t really matter all that much to him, nor did the fate of the King’s daughter. They were irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

"Lord Brynden Rhyne. You look so much like your father."

There was nothing about the King’s tone that Brynden liked. In a way, he didn’t want to give him the pleasure of actually acknowledging what he’d said. Though Brynden had waited so many months for this, it would be hard for him to not rub it in his face that he had won. He had thought that he’d feel different when he’d see the King, but he didn’t. Maybe Brynden would feel better when he’d sink his blade through the King’s ribcage.

“Your Grace,” Brynden said, bowing his head mockingly.

"What can I do for you, Lord Brynden."

The King was still smiling at him, and it was making Brynden angrier than he already was. He was just sitting there, looking as though nothing was wrong. It made him feel uncomfortable, it made Brynden feel like he would be ambushed. But he wasn’t really afraid of it, so he didn’t call for his men that stood right outside the door. If it’d happen, then so be it.

“Why aren’t you outside, fighting alongside your men? They’re dying for you.”

"I was waiting for you."

“That’s pathetic.”

“You should thank me for making it easier for you to find me.”

At that, Brynden chuckled a little as he shook his head. He didn’t like this, and he didn’t want to be apart of this conversation. It would be easy to just walk over and stab him like he wanted to, but at the same time, Brynden wanted to talk. It was all very conflicting, really. He knew that he would only get angry and upset the more they spoke, but eventually that would be replaced with relief once the King would die from his hand. Right?

“Thank you for being a coward.”
 
As expected the Northerners had stormed through the city at dawn. Trevas had watched from his window while the smell of blood and death reached all the way up to the castle. Standing there reminded him of the sight of Elaria, and Justan laying against the cobblestone below, pale as all their blood had poured into the cracks of the stones. Now there must have been thousands of bodies, painting the city that once was their home in their blood. Nothing about it was amusing, but Trevas had a tight smile resting on his calm face as he walked out of his room.

From the amount of wine that ran through his veins, Trevas imagined his blood must have been pure alcohol at this point. He found it strange how he had managed to walk all the way to the empty Throne Room. Usually, there would be people there ready for a day at court. Now there was no one.

Sitting on his throne didn’t feel the same anymore. Trevas knew it no longer belonged to him. Soon his blood would be splattered across the floor beneath him. He imagined it would be a blessing to everyone as the news of his death spread through the land. People would cheer for their new King and Queen, as all those who had followed him were likely dead, and he knew they never liked him in the first place. They had loved Katlyn and his two daughters, but not him. He saw it in their eyes, but that didn’t matter anymore. Soon he would be dead.

Trevas remembered the day Katlyn had been executed. Those three sweet words that had left his lips. Now he wished she was here to say them to him before he would be met by the sharp edge of a sword through his flesh. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine her gentle touches and her delicate lips against his. Would he be reunited with her now? He hoped the Gods would give him that though he had done so much wrong. Though Trevas didn’t pray for it, only hoped that the Gods would have mercy on him for his mistakes.

His daughters didn’t stray far from his mind as Trevas sat there. Saying goodbye to Ashara had been tough, but he knew she would be safe. Hopefully, she would forgive him for everything, and he wished that she would find happiness too. He also wished he had gotten to say goodbye to Elaria. Her death had been so sudden and unexpected, and Trevas felt sorry for how he had treated her. He knew her blood was on his hands.

It was a relief when Lord Brynden barged into the room.

The disturbing and upsetting thoughts left his mind as he looked at the man. He looked like his father. Trevas still remembered what Lord Yan Rhyne had looked like. That day was as clear as ever in his head once he saw Lord Brynden. The resemblance was so clear that there was no doubt that he was his father’s son. Trevas greeted him like he would have greeted any other Lord coming to his castle. That smile of his was still resting on his lips while he spoke to the young Lord. He wasn’t thinking much of the situation as he had accepted his fate.

“You’re welcome. I’m sure you’re happy now that you have won the war. What does it feel like? Avenging your dead father?” Trevas questioned before he spoke again, “I’m sure it must feel good. Killing thousands of men, raping their women as you leave their children to be orphans. You can probably empathise with them.”

"I didn't start the war. All those lives have been ruined because of you."

“Yes, of course. When I had your father executed. I remembered that day. It was quite the sight, seeing his head leave his body. I wish I had kept his head now as I’m sure you would have loved to see it.”

It had been a normal day. All the people that now laid dead in the streets outside had been there to see the Northern Lord executed. Trevas hadn’t thought much of it, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Perhaps it had been him who had started the war, but in the end that didn’t really matter much to Trevas. He only wanted to provoke the young Lord. Though Trevas imagined that it would only result in a slow and painful death for him, that didn’t matter much either. As long as he would be greeted with a sword through his flesh, he would endure it.

The young Lord chuckled at his words before he nodded, "did you keep your wife's head?"

“Sadly I didn’t,” Trevas scoffed as he stood up from the throne.

"Very sad indeed,” the young Lord scoffed.

“At least we have something in common. Ruining our families, having their blood on our hands. What does that feel like?”

"I didn't kill my family. You did."

“Did I? I can’t seem to recall killing your sister or your mother.”

It was because of the war they were dead. Trevas knew that much, but he hadn’t been the one to order their deaths or the one to swing the sword. Their blood wasn’t on him. At least that was his impression of it. He wondered what that must have felt like for Lord Brynden. Did he regret causing a war? Trevas thought he could have simply bent the knee unlike his father and then all of that was avoided, not that he cared much about it anymore, but still, he only wanted to provoke him.

"Your men killed my mother. The war killed my sister."

“Is that what you tell yourself before you go to sleep at night?”
 
It was obvious what the King was trying to do, but Brynden didn’t really care. If he wanted to provoke him, then so be it. In the end, his blood would be spilled on the marble floor under them. Maybe that was what the King wanted, and Brynden wouldn’t deny him that wish. Perhaps he should’ve, but he didn’t want to. Brynden craved his death too much, even if that was bad.

Speaking about his family was making Brynden’s blood boil. He knew that it was his fault, he’d known it all along, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Trevas. Why should he? So Brynden told him that it was his fault and, well, it was almost the truth. Brynden had accepted that it was his own fault and it bothered him, he imagined it would bother him for the rest of his life, but what could he do? The only thing left was to kill Trevas, since he was the only other person responsible for this.

“Are you not going to fight me?”

"Is that what you want?"

“I would’ve thought you’d want to go down fighting. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected that much courage from you.”

"I didn't see the point in wasting my time with you."

“I appreciate it. I’ve already fought enough today.”

There was no way that Brynden would be able to tell how many men he had killed today. Some died directly from his sword, some indirectly by some actions he’d made. Either way, many corpses laid in the streets because of Brynden. It didn’t really bother him, as the men had been nothing but soldiers to him. Later, he’d probably regret all of it and how much blood he had spilled. The men had families, friends that would miss them, but they had fought on the wrong side and lost.

"I'm sure your family is proud of you, though most of them are dead."

“So is yours.”

"I know."

There was a smile on his face as he said that, and it disgusted Brynden. Trevas was such a pathetic, worthless human being. Brynden would do everyone in Aedighar a favour by piercing his gut with his sword. The King’s reign was coming to an end, nobody would suffer because of him anymore, Brynden would make sure of that.
“You’re absolutely pathetic.”

"Thank you."

The absurdity of it made Brynden scoff as he shook his head, walking towards Trevas so that there wasn’t that big of a distance between them. His hands were itching to punch him right in his smiling face, feel his teeth crumble and his bones break. Brynden calmed himself by thinking that he’d have enough time to do just that soon enough. The closer Brynden came to him, the more prominent the stench of wine became. It almost drowned out the smell of death that covered Brynden.

“Do you regret all of this?”

"Does it matter?"

“I suppose not. I’m curious, though.”

"I bet you are."

“Answer me.”

"Why should I?"

“Because that’s an order. I’m sure you’re more used to giving those.”

“As if I have to listen to you.”

At that, Trevas chuckled and Brynden nodded his head a little before hitting his fist against the King’s face. Gods, it felt nice to feel and hear the crack of his nose breaking. Immediately, Brynden wanted to do it again and again until Trevas’ face was just a bloody pulp. The idea sounded so good in his mind, but then it faded slightly when all Trevas did was stumble back and chuckle again, holding his hand around his nose.

“Why are you laughing?” Brynden asked, walking closer to him again.

“Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Why not?” he shrugged.

“It’s annoying.”

“Is it?”

It seemed like Brynden had annoyed Trevas maybe a little bit too much. He didn’t even get a chance to react when Trevas punched his cheek, harder than Brynden would’ve expected from him. It fucking hurt, but Brynden straightened back up quickly and now it was his time to chuckle, though that made the pain worse.

“Is it really that annoying?”

"I suppose so,” Trevas said as he wiped the blood from his face.

“You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

"I haven't, no."

“Are you going to?”

"No."

There was a smile on his face again. How drunk was he? Or perhaps he was just mad. Brynden wouldn’t be at all surprised. Only a madman could do the things Trevas had done in his life. With a shrug, Brynden replied, “so be it. I’m in no mood to force it out of you.”
 
The pain from the punch Trevas received had been unbearable had it not been for the wine in his blood. It hurt, and blood was pouring down over his lips and his chin. His nose felt numb, and he imagined that the young Lord had punched hard enough to break his nose. That only made him remind himself that soon he would be dead, and if Brynden would beat him until he was unrecognisable, it didn’t matter. Though he didn’t hesitate to punch him back which felt rather nice. For a moment Trevas wanted to kill him, but he knew he wouldn’t do that.

If there was something unpleasant about the situation it wasn’t the pain or the fact that Trevas knew he would die. It was the endless questions that Brynden asked, and though Trevas hadn’t wanted to get angry, he was starting to feel frustrated now. Couldn’t he just shove his sword through his body already so Trevas wouldn’t have to think about everything he had done wrong and how he was regretting all of it? He didn’t want to think about that now.

“Good,” Trevas nodded.

"I'm glad Aedighar will finally be rid of you."

Trevas smiled at his words, “I’m sure they will celebrate my death.”

"Definitely. The people loathe you."

“Don’t you think I know that already.”

"At least you're not lying to yourself."

What was the point in trying to pretend anymore? Trevas knew that his death would mean anything to anyone except giving the people something to be happy over. Whatever his life had been before was over now, and whatever Lord Brynden was trying to do now was only making him feel exhausted and annoyed. Gods, how long would he have to stand there until he would be met by Brynden’s sword? It seemed like he’d have to wait forever.

Trevas sighed then, shaking his head slightly, “I didn’t think you’d come here to have a conversation with me. I must say I’m rather surprised.”

"I apologise for not killing you straight away. That's very rude of me."

“I suppose I’ll have to endure you for a little while longer.”

"Don't worry, I won't drag this out for too much longer."

This wasn’t making much sense to Trevas at all. Suddenly he felt pathetic as he was almost begging the man in front of him to kill him. He didn’t understand why he longed so much for it, and all the wine was making him a mess. Brynden was right that he was a coward. He was a coward who had murdered his own family and caused his life to crumble beneath his feet. He was so fucking pathetic that he had let the love of his life slip through his fingers, executed at his orders because he was so fucking selfish. And for what? So he could die as well?

“To answer your question. I regret it all, but I suppose you don’t care about that.”

"You do?"

“Yes,” Trevas said as he sighed again.

"Why?"

That made Trevas scoff, but he imagined that everyone thought of him as a horrible and cold man who would never care about anyone but himself. He didn’t understand why he was trying to talk to Lord Brynden about this. It didn’t fucking matter, and still, he found himself answering, “because I loved my family, believe it or not.”

Apparently, the Lord found that amusing as he chuckled, but Trevas just shook his head as he felt even more pathetic. Was he expecting him to have mercy by telling him this? He didn’t want mercy from Brynden.

“Now I have answered your questions.”

"You have."

For a moment Trevas wanted to scream at him to do it already. He was growing desperate as the fear within him was starting to grow. The pain of his nose was becoming more prominent, and he just wanted this to end now. All the suffering and his endless thoughts. Instead, Trevas did the opposite and grew quiet as he looked at Brynden. Perhaps he should have brought the same poison he had given Timos Hastwyck so he could drink it in front of Brynden, not giving him the satisfaction of killing him. But he hadn’t done that.

Silence settled between them, but then a fist clashed with his face again, making Trevas stumble back as he groaned at the pain. Before Trevas could react, Brynden had punched him again, this time his fist clashed with his jaw. Another groan fell from his lips at the pain, but he endured it instead of fighting back. A hand grasped around the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards Brynden. Their gaze met, and Trevas smiled lazily at him while his face felt swollen and it ached as well. Blood was running down his nose still, getting in his mouth as he smiled.

Once Brynden pushed him away, Trevas didn’t hesitate to swing his fist towards his face, his knuckles hitting against his nose. He wanted to provoke him enough to kill him. The fourth punch Trevas had received today didn’t bother him as much as the three first ones. Now it was almost becoming fun. Through the pain Trevas pushed Brynden away with all his strength, hoping he would anger him.
 
In a way, it did amuse Brynden to watch as Trevas seemed either uncomfortable or incredibly annoyed by his questions. Perhaps he should ask a few more, just to see how far he could take this. But Brynden imagined that Trevas would just try to turn it around or provoke him some more. Did it matter though? Whether he did it sooner or later, Trevas would end up dead at his feet.

Before Brynden hit Trevas a fourth time, he was hit in the nose. He felt the blood trickle down into his beard, but he didn’t really care all that much. It didn’t hurt that much, because of everything else that Brynden was feeling. Later, it would ache horribly, along with the other injuries he’d gotten that day, not to mention how sore his muscles would feel. Brynden probably wouldn’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow morning. Right now, none of that mattered though.

“Anything else you’d like to confess while you have the chance?” Brynden asked once he regained his balance from being pushed harshly.

"I don't regret killing your father."

“Of course you do. Maybe you don’t realise it. Killing my father caused all of this.”

"I don't."

“Sure,” Brynden shrugged.

"I regret not giving him a slow death, though."

He chuckled at that, “you know, it’s almost as though you want me to kill you.”

"Oh really?"

“Really,” Brynden nodded, smiling at the King as he spoke, “I could throw you in the dungeons.”

Though Brynden wouldn’t do that, because he too craved for Trevas’ death. He didn’t care if he gave him exactly what he wanted. In the end, Brynden would be the winner, even if Trevas was happy to die. If they all wanted to start over, then the King had to die. That was how it was supposed to be, and Brynden didn’t really mind that.

"Do that then."

“No. I’ll give you what you want. Eventually. I’m sure your wife and daughter would thank me for that,” Brynden chuckled.

"I'm sure my unborn child will thank you as well."

“Probably. Having no father is better than having you,” he shrugged.

"I know."

“Glad we agree.”

"Of course."

In a way, Brynden was getting tired of all of this. Trevas was already a dead man, and Brynden didn’t know if he wanted to waste much more time on him. He deserved to die, he wanted to die, so Brynden would give him that. First, though, he wanted to turn his face unrecognizable. Though it was already getting messed up from all the punches, Brynden wanted to see it absolutely ruined.

After a short pause, Brynden threw his sword on the ground before he came at Trevas again, slamming his fist once more against his face before grabbing him by his collar and pushing him towards the steps behind him so he’d trip and fall. Trevas shoved him back before he stumbled backwards and fell on the ground. Brynden didn’t hesitate to get on top of him, with his hands grasping his collar again.

It was too easy to imagine everything that Brynden could do right now. He had dreamt of it for too long, and perhaps that should’ve worried him. Brynden wanted to cause him pain, he wanted him to die slowly and full of regret. That was what Trevas deserved. Then he let go of his collar again, moving his hands to grip onto his throat instead, squeezing them tightly as he stared down at him.

Why didn’t it feel good? Brynden listened to his gasps for air, felt his pulse against his fingers, but it didn’t bring him any joy. He thought it would. Brynden thought that it would make him happy to do this, that it would give him some sort of joy to take Trevas’ life. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he had to do it differently.

So Brynden let go of his throat, giving him perhaps a second to catch his breath again before he slammed his fist back into his face. His heart was beating so fast then, and Brynden wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the sudden rush of anxiousness that took over him. He was taking revenge for father, for mother and for Rhea. Where was the joy he was supposed to feel? Why did he feel nothing as he stared down at the bloodied face of the King?

Almost desperately, Brynden hit his fist against his face again. This had been what Brynden had waited for so long. None of the battles had brought him any joy, he never felt what his men had felt after a victory. This moment had been Brynden’s last chance, he knew that. His last chance to get joy out of this whole fucking thing, and yet it didn’t come. It didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel wrong, it made Brynden feel absolutely nothing.
 
Through the fabric of his clothes, Trevas felt how cold the ground beneath him felt. The only warmth he felt was his own blood covering his face. As the wine no longer seemed to buzz through his veins, everything ached. He knew that he deserved every punch from Brynden. All the pain he felt now couldn’t compare to the suffering he had put his family through. He wondered how Katlyn had managed to stay with him for so long as he imagined she was the one he had hurt the most. Their love had been real, and yet that hadn’t mattered to him.

It was strange how she lingered on his mind as he laid there. In reality, she never strayed far from his mind. Trevas liked thinking about her now as he kept his eyes closed. She brought him comfort. Though it felt like forever ago since he had last seen her, the image of her was still clear in his mind. She had hated him, and he had hated her, but he liked to think that through all that hate they always loved each other.

Like the day Katlyn had died, Trevas thought about the first time he had met her. Things could have been so different for them had he not let power get to his head. It was addictive. Being the King had been a burden. He almost wished for a different life where he could meet Katlyn as a beautiful Lady ready to marry him as a Lord, and not a King. They could have lived somewhere peaceful, in a smaller castle with their two beautiful daughters without any worries. It was pathetic of him to think that now, but he couldn’t help it.

Katlyn had watched him as Trevas had become a different man, and Trevas felt immense guilt rushing through his veins for all the harsh words he had said to her, all the bruises he had given her, and how he had utterly destroyed her. Had she forgiven him before her death? Trevas doubted that. How could she?

No one would ever forgive him. Trevas couldn’t forgive himself for what he had done. Was that why it was so difficult for him to love, show affection and care? He couldn’t love the man he had become. He loathed himself and his disgusting ways of treating the people around him. How could he love someone else then? It was all making sense to him now. All the discomfort he felt when Alys had tried to care for him. There was no way he could let her do that when he didn’t care about himself. He had been so selfish, but in reality, he hated himself.

More than ever Trevas craved Brynden to end his life. He needed the suffering he had caused himself to end. The endless thoughts in his head that would never stop, he fucking needed them to end. It was overwhelming, and it made Trevas welcome the physical pain of Brynden’s punches. They were much easier to endure than the internal battle he had with himself in his mind. Katlyn kept coming back to him, but then he’d remember her face as he had told her that he loved her. How lost she had looked before she had accepted her fate.

Gods, Trevas prayed to them that Katlyn had been shown mercy, unlike the lack of kindness he had given her.

“Fucking kill me already you son of a bitch,” Trevas growled through his teeth as he opened his eyes to look at Brynden.

Trevas needed it. Even if it would be painful it would never be close to the pain he felt when he thought about Katlyn. He would have nightmares about that day. Fuck, he wished he had taken her away somewhere safe where she couldn’t be harmed. He wished he had killed Lady Carlys instead for treason, but he hadn’t because he was a fucking coward. All his plans stemmed from that. The coward his mother had tried so hard to make him grow out of has always come back to him, making him do stupid things because he was afraid.

Instead of giving Trevas what he so fucking badly desired, Brynden punched him again and again. His fists clashed with his face to the point where he felt his teeth shatter, and Trevas spit out the blood that filled his mouth as his eyes were now so swollen that he couldn’t open them anymore. It was hard to breathe. There was blood running from his nose, and the blood that kept filling his mouth made him choke. Why couldn’t Brynden just fucking kill him already? Trevas was nearly begging him for it.

“Fucking do it, coward,” Trevas spat at him.

This was what everyone wanted. This was what everyone needed to be able to move on from all the trouble Trevas had caused. He imagined that everyone in Aedighar had been tormented during his reign. It would be a relief to them all when he would finally be dead. No one would have to worry about his cowardly ways of dealing with problems. No one would have to worry about his lack of mercy. Perhaps finally Aedighar could be at peace with all the Great Houses unites in an alliance to would last an eternity.

Trevas almost hoped it would, but deep down all he could think of was how he had failed Katlyn so fucking bad.

Everything happened so fast then as Brynden got off of him. Trevas thought he would reach for his sword and give him a quick death, but then fingers grasped at his hair, making his body turn with his chest pressed against the floor. The loud noise of his skull clashing with the edge of the steps echoed through the room. A groan tried to make it past his swollen lips, but no sound came from him. He felt dizzy as his blood was pouring out on the steps and the so nicely chiselled marble beneath him. He could feel his life slip through his fingers.

Another hit against the steps and Trevas felt his heart’s ragged beating in his chest.

Trevas knew he didn’t deserve the comfort of a quick death. He didn’t deserve a sharp edge cutting his throat, or something piercing through his flesh to stop his heart. If anything he deserved the pain the shot through his body as Brynden kept hitting his head down against the ground. His body trembled as he felt panic rushing through his veins, but like the coward he was, he didn’t struggle. He didn’t try to fight back. No one would miss him. What was the point in fighting death then? He had killed those who loved him, those who would have missed him.

As Trevas lost count of how many times his skull at met with the floor, he swore he could hear Katlyn’s voice. He could hear her calling his name like a faint whisper. Gods, he wanted her comforting embrace now as his heart struggled and his head bled. Everything felt strange then as he couldn’t hear Brynden anymore. He couldn’t feel the pain either. It all came to an end once he laid there, lifeless and pale.
 
20.gif
The Aftermath.
Chapter CIV
House Rhyne
May all be as one
Nilfgaard, Northern lands of Aedighar
​
The bells in the city were ringing when Antra was brought into Wheldrake, along with the rest of those that had stayed behind. When Antra first saw the carts, she couldn’t understand what was being loaded into them. Once the smell reached her and she could see it all more clearly, it didn’t take too long to figure it out. Antra felt sick and she turned her gaze away, but it was too late, as the image had been burned into her mind.

While Antra felt incredibly bad about everything, she also desperately wanted to reach the castle sooner to escape the stench of death. It was absolutely sickening, and it was only made worse with the constant crying and shouting that came from every corner. Everything was making Antra incredibly uncomfortable, and she didn’t raise her eyes from her hands until she was told to get off of her horse.

At least they had won. When the riders approached camp, Antra had been so anxious to hear what they had to say. Though there had been many dead on both sides, Brynden had come out victorious. The King was dead, the North had won. It did make Antra a little happy to hear that, but her true happiness came when she heard that Brynden and Willelm were well.

They were alive, and that mattered more to Antra than anything else. It made her feel a little less anxious as they made their way to the castle. Were they injured? That wasn’t said to her. Antra hoped that they weren’t, because she wanted to hug them so badly and tell them how much she loved them. She wanted to see Elias, too, but when she asked about him, they told her he was busy. That was alright.

It seemed everyone was busy when they walked inside the castle. Antra felt that it was so strange as she looked around, seeing how everything was already changing in front of her. She would’ve thought they’d wait a little bit before taking down the crimson banners, but they were already laying scattered on the floor, being stepped over and kicked around by those walking the halls.

Would they be replaced with the bear of House Rhyne? Antra couldn’t help but wander the halls as she waited for someone to come find her and bring her wherever she needed to be. It was strange, in a way it almost felt like the castle was buzzing with life in the middle of all the carnage. Antra assumed that the servants in the castle didn’t care who they served, or perhaps they were just as happy about the war’s outcome as the Northerners.

It had already been past noon when they’d arrive in Wheldrake and it was quickly getting dark outside. Antra walked the hallways, avoiding rooms because she was afraid of what might be within them. Who knew where the corpses of all the guards and the King laid. Antra didn’t want to find that out, so she kept to the hallways, walking around as she admired the beauty that she hadn’t expected to find.

If Antra ignored all of the death that surrounded her, it was nice in a way. When some women approached her, informing her of a feast to celebrate their victory, Antra almost didn’t want to follow them. She was a proper Lady, though, and she went with them to a bedchamber where they made sure she was ready to attend the meal. It made Antra slightly uncomfortable, as she was wearing a dress that didn’t belong to her, but most likely a dead woman. The women said that they didn’t have time to wait for her items to be brought in from the camp, though.

Was it wise to have a feast this soon after? Antra felt a little strange about it, but she didn’t doubt Brynden’s justice. Perhaps it would be well for the men to have a moment to drink and eat and cheer, as they came down from the adrenaline of the war. After all, Antra didn’t know anything about these things and she wouldn’t pretend that she did. Whatever Brynden wanted, she was sure it’d be for the best.

They escorted her to the Great Hall, from which music already flowed and Antra could hear laughter and shouting come from it. It still didn’t feel quite right, though now hours had passed since the battles were over. In a way, Antra wanted to tell them all to be quiet, to have a moment of silence for those that had passed, but, again, she knew nothing of what men felt when they fought. This was, perhaps, what they so desperately needed.

Immediately, Antra’s eyes landed on Brynden. It wasn’t too hard to find him, as he sat in the middle of a table that stood higher than any other on a platform. He seemed to be deep in thought as he watched the men feast and laugh below him. Though Brynden didn’t look as happy as Antra would’ve liked, she still couldn’t help but smile as she walked quicker towards the table, leaving her guards behind her as they rushed after her.

Though Antra saw Aryana sitting not too far away with some other Easterners, she only gave her a smile before reaching Brynden. The smile she gave him was returned only barely, and Antra found herself worried about him. She went around the table to wrap her arms around her brother before moving to sit down with him, leaving a chair empty between them for Willelm.

At least the men in front of them seemed cheerful, that was nice. It was only a small part of their men, those with the highest ranks and those who played a significant part in the war. The rest of them were likely outside, either still working or celebrating in their own way. Either way, Antra was glad to see them so happy. The war was over, soon they could go back to their families and knowing that made Antra smile as she looked at them all.

There had been so much death over the last few months, but that was finally over. It felt like they could breathe again. Antra hoped that this meant that for many years Aedighar would live in peace. The land needed to heal, there was so much to do to fix the problems the war had caused for the Kingdoms and for its people. They needed to move on from this and learn from it so that it wouldn’t happen again.
 
Winning the war had come at a great price for Willelm. It should have been a relief to enter the castle of Wheldrake, knowing it laid in their hands, but it wasn’t. With blood and mud stained into the fine fabric of his clothes, covering his hair and hands, the castle didn’t quite give him the feeling he had expected. The taste of victory had only felt sweet in his mouth until it had begun to sour. He was only glad that they had brought justice for their family. That was the only sweet thing about it. The rest of it he tried to ignore while his muscles ached.

Now Willelm expected there would be feasts and weddings as he and his siblings would separate and live their lives away from each other. The war was over, and soon enough he knew he would be in the East, far away from home to call a new place home. Perhaps he would have some woman at his side to marry and have her give him children, but much of his future was a blur to him, unknown as he hadn’t spoken about such personal matters with Brynden ever since the war had begun. The war was supposed to bring them closer, but it hadn’t.

Willelm had never felt so far away from his brother and sister as he did now.

Every day Willelm came to realise that after this his life would never be the same as it once was. He wouldn’t be teasing Antra with the dead rabbits he brought home after a hunt. He wouldn’t be fighting Brynden out in the yard as he laughed and let his brother bruise his body, and what he hadn’t expected was not being able to pull at Rhea’s hair whenever she walked past him in the hallways. Soon he would be alone, and still, he felt like a coward for wanting the war to have never happened. No matter how necessary it had been for them.

There were good things that would come from the war, but in his mind, Willelm wasn’t able to think of the prosperity and peaceful times that awaited Aedighar. It was selfish of him to not be grateful, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to show Brynden gratitude when both Rhea and their mother had perished. Was he dumb for still grieving? As a man, he wasn’t supposed to, and he tried to find ways to drown his sorrow, but whores and wine became rather boring. Only for a brief moment of time would he feel at ease, only to feel distant again.

Once there was news of a feast in the castle the same day, Willelm wanted to spend the rest of the evening in a hot bath to wash off the stench of death. Drinking and cheering for their victory didn’t sound very appealing to him, but still, he found himself dressed in fine clothes, ready to celebrate for the rest of the day.

While Willelm had expected to be scolded for arriving late, he didn’t receive a word from Brynden. His brother looked rather distant, and Willelm couldn’t blame him. Men weren’t supposed to be skittish, but the sight Willelm had seen out in the streets hadn’t been very nice. He knew it would haunt his mind for days if not weeks to come, and he assumed that his brother might have felt the same way. Either way, Willelm knew better than to attempt to speak to him. He didn’t want to leave the feast with a broken nose or bruised cheek.

The people looked happy as Willelm sat down onto his chair. They had all the right to be happy, but he felt exhausted. His head still ached as the sound of screams rang through his mind.

As his gaze travelled across the Great Hall, it ended up on Antra beside him. His sister was such a sweet young Lady, seemingly untouched by the horrors that she had faced during the war. He wondered what would happen to her now. Would Brynden marry her to some Lord? Would Antra be ready for that? She was a good Lady. Willelm had seen how proper she had turned out to be compared to Rhea. She was perhaps the only one of them who took her duties seriously. He smiled, hoping he wasn’t naive for thinking she looked untouched by the war.

Like expected Antra returned the smile before her arms wrapped around him. Willelm always thought her hugs were comforting, so he didn’t hesitate to hug her back before he carefully asked, “are you okay?”

Antra nodded at his question, “are you?”

It brought Willelm some relief that Antra was okay. He knew she was well guarded and that she had people around her to take care of her, but he worried about her. It would have broken him to lose her too or see the war change her, and he was glad that it hadn’t. Though he couldn’t say the same for himself. It was a shame he felt the way he did as he knew it was pathetic. He wondered if their father would have called him a coward for it, or if Brynden would have said those words if he knew the thoughts that rushed through his mind.

“Yes,” Willelm said, a smile still resting on his lips.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Antra asked as he met her gaze again.

“I’m alright. Bruised and cut perhaps, but alright.”

"That's good. Are you happy?"

“I suppose I’m happy that the war is finally over,” Willelm sighed.

Lying to Antra was never easy. Willelm didn’t want to upset her. It was much easier to lie to Brynden and perhaps receive a punch because of it than lie to Antra and watch her get upset with him. Though he didn’t want her to worry about him. She must have had much more important things to worry about than losing her head over his happiness or lack thereof. The sleepless nights Willelm would face because of this wasn’t something Antra needed to know about. He knew he would eventually get over it and find peace in himself again.

"It feels like we left Nilfgaard years ago."

“Do you miss it?” Willelm asked as he knew he missed home every single day.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

Similar threads

moonrise
Fandom ATLA: Archive of Water [Closed]
Replies
3
Views
110
Lucyfer
Lucyfer
moonrise
Fandom ATLA: Archive of Fire [Closed]
Replies
3
Views
124
Lucyfer
Lucyfer
Rusting Knight
Fantasy Broken Faith [Closed, w/ Lucyfer]
Replies
5
Views
121
Lucyfer
Lucyfer
Lucyfer
Fandom Fallout New Vegas: All Roads [Closed]
fallout new vegas
Replies
4
Views
74
Lucyfer
Lucyfer
Lucyfer
Fandom Devil May Cry: Cold Day In Heaven [Closed]
Replies
3
Views
133
Ghost Orchid
Ghost Orchid
Back
Top