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When Terence and Kihel finally arrived at the Hideaway, nobody was quite sure what to make of them. An imperial dragoon and a street urchin made for an unlikely pair to start, but that they meant to take refuge in a Bearer sanctuary like Cid’s Hideaway was an even bigger mystery.
The Boatman who ferried visitors to the Hideaway was of the mind to block their passage right from the very start because of this. There were towns nearby, a good day or two’s walk perhaps, but a town nonetheless and the blight-stricken lands were largely devoid of monsters anyway.
They would be safe, he said, and a little trek to get to where they might fit in better was nothing for an Imperial like Terence.
The pointed jab did not escape Terence’s notice, but he brushed it off without so much as an acknowledgement.
Kihel, however, seemed to take offense on his behalf and readily stepped up to his defense.
“Just listen to what he has to say first!” she all but yelled to the surprise of the Boatman who might have assumed her to be a less-than-willing companion of Terences up until then.
He sized them up through a different light then.
And thankfully, it seemed like that was enough for the Boatman to decide to listen to Terence. Even then, it took Terence assuring the Boatman that he was not under the employ of the Holy Order anymore, then that he was in search of Prince Dion, and, finally, a handful of gold coins to secure passage for them both into the Hideaway.
And still, at the end of it all, as he unmoored the boat and began ferrying them into the lake, he shot Terence a suspicious look and mumbled:
“I ain’t heard of the Prince expecting anyone.”
Of course, Terence thought. He wouldn't have, knowing Prince Dion.
He took the Boatman’s words to be a preview of what was waiting for them at the Hideaway and the rest of the boat ride, he kept his gaze up front. If the Boatman snuck prying looks at him, or if Kihel made numerous attempts to see past the thick metal of his helmet for his reaction out of curiosity for the Boatman’s statement, Terence ignored them all.
***
As expected, the ‘welcome’ that waited for them at the Hideaway proper was no different from the Boatman's. The Cursebreakers posted at the entry were quick to stop them. And, of course, Terence couldn’t really fault them either for the caution. He’d have done the same in their position.
Clad in a different set of armor than the one he normally wore when he served at Prince Dion’s side, Terence was certain he made for an intimidating sight. The set worn by Lancer Dragoons was designed not just to show-off the grandeur of Sanbreque’s premier dragoons with their wyrm-inspired flairs in style, but certainly to instill fear for how distinct they were even from a distance, like the very height of the tower they might be perched from.
The set had its defensive purposes of course, which was why Terence had chosen it for his final directive.
When he’d left Randellah, he’d anticipated that he’d have to cut through hordes of Akashic on the way to Twinside on his own and he had . The story state of his armor after this must not help with their impression either. Prioritizing their speed travel, Terence had done the bare minimum to maintain his armor.
After a moment’s thought, he decided to remove his helmet in the hopes of providing a less intimidating picture.
"We seek Prince Dion," he explained. "I was informed that he was here last."
Before he left for the spire.
"And just what are you to him? Didn't hear about the prince expecting anyone to follow…" One of the guards quizzed skeptically.
"I was a knight in his service," Terence answered without missing a beat, "Back in Randellah, he bid me to honor a final request,” He gestured towards Kihel beside him. "I came here to fulfill it in part. To report my success."
It was all but half-truths, and that had always been Terence’s specialty for the amount he had had to lie in his life. The order had been given without any real expectation of completion, at least in the sense that Prince Dion hadn’t seemed like he expected to ever hear from Terence’s success, or failure. It was just a request that hinged on Prince Dion’s unwavering, near-blind, trust that Terence would perform it to the best of his abilities without question.
Coming here, Terence was certain, must be deviation to what Prince Dion might have planned. Knowing his prince, Terence knew he might have preferred that Terence lived on to carry on his final request with the assumption that Prince Dion was to die. Or had already died.
But at the end of the world, Terence decided that if Prince Dion could make decisions that run contrary to his desires, then Terence could as well. However petty that was.
And by Greagor’s name, he knew that if there was even a small sliver of hope that he could meet Prince Dion one last time, he would clutch as tightly as he could until it disintegrated right in front of his very eyes.
"A success of what ?" The Cursebreaker asked after mulling Terence’s explanation. His eyebrows drew together in a frown and he crossed his arms across his chest.
Terence bit back a sigh and replied coolly: "It was requested that I secure this young girl’s safety. She cared for His Highness for a time in the past and He sought to repay her his debts.”
"I still don't understand why a prince would be in any way interested in a little runt like this girl… I don’t trust you."
The Cursebreaker shook his head at Terence and Kihel both. “But perhaps-”
But before he could continue with that thought, a woman marched up to them, hands in her hips with a look of complete displeasure.
"Oh for god's sake, enough with the interrogation. Imperial or no, this child looks like she needs rest not a moment sooner. Quit acting like you own the place with Cid away. If that Imperial’s got any mind to hurt any of us, he’s not going to be reasoning with you in anyway. Not with his words anyway."
That shut up the Cursebreaker who grumbled at being so summarily cut off.
Terence’s shoulders eased in relief at having reached the end of the questioning, but before he could relax too much, the woman turned sharply towards him.
"And you , His Highness never treated any of us Bearers any different and I would hope you follow after your lord in that regard, understood?"
It was bold words, especially considering that he was here a fully armed dragoon and there she was a woman - a Bearer, Terence realized belatedly - unarmed but for her bare hands. But he respected her, and merely bowed his head in agreement.
"As I intended to, madam."
“Good,” she smiled and then turned her attention to Kihel. “How’s about you join me and we can fix you up a warm meal? Maybe some clean clothes to change to.”
“I-” Kihel turned to him, round eyes questioning.
Terence gave her a quick nod, to which Kihel responded with a small smile.
“I’d like that,” she said and then the woman and Kihel both were walking away, hand-in-hand.
Terence watched them for a moment, before turning back to the Cursebreaker.
He doubted he would get anywhere peacefully without settling matters with him.
But first…
"I assume that the party that left for the spire has not returned?" Terence questioned quietly, revealing that he was privy to that information, or at least part of it.
The Cursebreaker’s eyes widened and he sized Terence up for a few lingering moments before finally speaking again.
“No… And I’m guessing that you actually want to wait here for your Prince to return, huh?”
“If it can be allowed,” Terence answered, ignoring the way something pinched at his heart when the Cursebreaker referred to the Prince as his . “At the very least, until a confirmation has been made.”
He paused without meaning to. “Of my lord’s survival. I have gold to pay for our stay if that is needed.”
".... Oh you might be needing that gold alright, but more than that, we also need people to help around here from time to time. Is that something you can handle? Working with Bearers like us, that is, Imperial?"
"Of course." Terence assured him.
The Cursebreaker sniffed.
"Right, well-- I guess make yourself home 'round here. Someone will find you when they need help and- ah… probably best if you left your weapon with us. Just sayin,' none of us have known of the likes of you, the Prince never brought anyone with him or mentioned anyone coming in, and a good lot here have had bad run-ins with Imperials."
"I understand." The weapon he’d taken with him was easily almost as tall as him, and heavy. But he wasn’t about to give the Cursebreaker another reason to bar him entry. He held the weapon out for Cursebreaker then. "Then I leave it in your care."
Predictably, the man almost dropped the lance as soon as it was fully in his hold.
"By the flame, how do you even- ah never mind. This’ll be here when you need it. Which hopefully is never around here." The Cursebreaker said as he carefully laid the lance to rest at the weapon's rack by the entrance.
"Cid and the rest went out to find 'em, by the way, about two days ago. Your prince included. I reckon it'll take them some time to be back."
"You have my thanks," Terence said quietly.
He went to find Kihel.
***
Of the two of them, it was Kihel who took to the Hideaway almost instantly, or to be more specific, took to the Hideaway’s Infirmary almost instantly.
One of the first things Terence learned about Kihel was her surprising knowledge on herbal remedies and curatives.
He’d known that she’d cared for Prince Dion after the disaster at Twinside, but not the specifics.
There had not been any time for that; Terence only found out about Kihel in those last few moments with the Prince, even. And before that, Prince Dion had been mostly tightlipped about his experiences during his disappearance. Of that time, all that Terence could manage out of him was the Hideaway’s location, and only that they might reach out to them for help in the future.
Everything else he knew now about Kihel, he’d learned as they traveled together. And her true skills, he learned first hand when she offered to tend to any wounds he acquired fighting for their both their safeties.
He wasn’t surprised when Kihel’s attentions turned to the Hideaway’s Infirmary. Nor when, upon sensing her interest and latent talent, the resident physicker offered to let her shadow him as he worked.
Terence expected her to accept, but not that she would turn to him and ask for permission first.
“May I?”
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, the innocent question made him uncomfortable, though he chose to hide that.
"Of course you may,” Terence answered. And then, added for good measure after a beat. “Going forward, you need not ask for permission for such things. So long as you are safe, you are free to do as you wish. I only ask that you let me know where you will be.”
Kihel looked at him then, clearly curious about something. But then she smiled. “Okay.”
And that was that.
He was to protect her and provide for her, not curate her experiences.
It was as simple as that.
***
And then, Terence found himself alone most times with the residents of the Hideaway preferring to leave him to his own devices, if they were not already avoiding him entirely. A few times they asked for his help; the Blacksmith Blackthorne wasn’t too bothered by him being an Imperial and was interested in the makings of his armor and lance, the Cursebreakers were only too happy to see him available for practice at the dugout from time to time.
When there was nothing to do, Terence watched and listened, gathering information both willingly and unwillingly.
The people of the Hideaway watched him curiously and sometimes Terence caught the tail end of their hushed conversations, if not heard them entirely.
Of the information he’d gleaned, one thing stood out:
On the eve of their departure, Cid -- the one Prince Dion referred to as Ifrit and not the one who took the title in his place -- had called on their friends from all over Storm to bid farewell to. An offer had been made to Prince Dion as well, to bid any of his to attend, but the Prince had come up with no names.
Naught but regrets he had, he heard one of the women whisper despairingly.
Terence forced himself to pay it no mind.
He knew where thoughts of Prince Dion led to nowadays.
Not that he’d had any more tears left to shed on the matter.
As it was, he’d shed it all during the mad flight to Twinside, enough that by the time he’d reached his destination, it’d felt like he’d wrung himself dry of all emotions and become a vessel void of anything but the will to carry out his prince’s final wishes. In retrospect, that had certainly served him well in the madness that followed shortly after his arrival at Twinside.
Somehow , whether by Greagor’s grace or sheer luck, they had both survived that disaster. Though, Terence knew he would not have minded at all if, after his best efforts, he had gone to Greagor's bosom along with Kihel then and there.
It would have certainly been a kinder end for himself.
For himself , being the keyword. For better or for worse, Prince Dion had chosen to tie his life with Kihel. That Kihel had chosen to agree with his offer of protection and provision only sealed his fate.
***
Most of the time, Terence chose to linger at the tavern, where the chatter and music from the orchestrion helped with keeping certain thoughts out of his mind. He avoided drinking, however, and was content to merely stand by a corner in silence as he waited for either Kihel or a person in need of help to find him.
One afternoon, an unexpected person found him instead.
"Ah, so the imperial knight recently come to the Hideaway is you, young master Terence."
There, standing by the door to the library was an all too familiar face that he hadn't seen since Dion had left to join the dragoons and he followed shortly after.
Prince Dion's former tutor.
"Master Harpocrates."
Immediately, he stood up properly to give the former royal tutor the proper respects, starting with a bow of obeisance.
That earned him a small dry laugh from the much older man.
"I suppose some things never change. I never could persuade you to forgo formalities then and you aren't liable to start now."
"I wouldn't dare to."
"I suppose not," Harpocrates sighed thoughtfully. "Why don't you come join me in the library, Sir Terence?"
"I-"
"It is quieter there and I believe we might have a few things to catch up on? That is, unless you are otherwise preoccupied?"
Master Harpocrates looked at him with hopeful eyes. And in the end, despite his apprehension, Terence relented.
"I have no pressing matters to attend to at the moment," he answered quietly.
"Then shall we?"
***
Somehow Terence had avoided the library entirely until then. The promise of a silence all but chased him away from the place, and of course, he had no idea that the Tomes everyone referred to who resided in the library was none other than Prince Dion’s former tutor.
Upon entering, his eyes were directed to a desk at the very center of the room, pressed up against a balcony. And on it, a seemingly familiar but peculiarly colored flower set upon a tall glass vase caught his eye.
Walking closer, he realized it was none other than a wyvern tail, a differently colored one. It was almost the shade of periwinkle, but perhaps slightly lighter. He had only ever seen the white ones grown in the palace gardens. Prince Dion had a fondness for them, such that he often had a single flower set on a vase at his desk just like Master Harpcorates had done.
His chest grew tight as the thoughts of Prince Dion he'd carefully suppressed began to bubble up to the surface of his mind. He willed his focus elsewhere, to Harpocrates who unfortunately seemed to have noticed his attention.
"A peculiar color isn't it? His highness thought so as well," Harpocrates said softly. "It was to be my gift to the Prince, but he refused it and bid me to keep it until he was ready to gaze upon it again."
"So now, it sits in my vase. And I wait until I am able to harvest its seeds to grow them for whenever the Prince returns and deems himself worthy."
If he returns.
"How have you been, Sir Terence?"
"Well, Master Harpocrates," Terence said simply.
"Well, indeed," Harpocrates echoed, though he didn’t seem convinced. "As I am."
"That is good to hear.”
A few moments of silence stretched before them, where Harpocrates seemed to study him in detail, and Terence chose to wait for lack of anything to say.
And what could he say?
After Randellah, Terence had lived with nothing but his grief. And when that grief gave way to emptiness, Terence had stubbornly filled the vacant spaces with thoughts of his duty. The drive to survive and to keep Kihel safe.
At every turn, and as fervently as he could, he pushed back all those thoughts that drew back to a certain Prince. It was ironic, for in the past, the Prince was as good as his other half and all thoughts seem to flow back to him.
And now that Kihel was safe and well taken care of, even thriving in the Hideaway, Terence found himself bereft of a purpose once more and desperate for anything to do.
Well , was a fine enough description of his state.
Eventually, Harpocrates spoke again.
"In truth, I had feared the worst when His Highness turned up here on his lonesome," He began, his eyes on the wyvern tail. "Feared the worst for you, I mean."
"You speak as if you expected me to be with His Highness," Terence replied tersely.
"And you speak as if you were not?" There was a little gleam in Harpocrates' eyes and then he continued. "I may have been absent from the Empire for years now, but I did keep myself abreast of the going-ons within it. The Prince was oft on my mind, you see. And I suppose you, as well, though I know that I had never had to look too far from the prince to find you. So yes, I had expected you to come with him, or follow soon after. And whhen you hadn't, I naturally feared the worst."
Terence couldn't help but let out a small, breathy laugh in irony.
"Then… I am sorry to have disappointed you," Terence said, unable to contain the sarcasm in his voice then and there. "But if it satisfies you, were that a choice I could make, I would have chosen to be at his side." With all that entailed, was of course, left unsaid.
Harpocrates seemed to stumble a bit, taken aback. It made Terence regret his small outburst.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to imply anything with my careless words," He apologized quietly.
"No, no, my child," Harpocrates shook his head. "It is I who should apologize for my careless words. I am glad that you live, is all that I had meant to say."
Terence said nothing to that, and though he nodded, he knew it was a half-hearted agreement at best.
Harpocrates must have read right through him for the tutor to let out a little forlorn sigh.
"Do you know why I thought to gift his highness this flower, Sir Terence?" Harpocrates touched a petal of the wyvern tail lightly.
"When his highness arrived here, the air of defeat hung thick about him and he had the look of a man who had all but given up on life. I had hoped that I might ease his burdens, and mayhap, even provide him with a small reason to live."
Terence looked down; his mind's eye eagerly painted the picture Harpocrates described. It was an easy enough thing to do, too, having his very memory as its fountain of reference.
When Prince Dion returned to the remains of their regiment, he was markedly different. He had a haunted look about him, and his eyes always seemed to stare off into the distance, deep in thought. He kept to himself. And it was like an invisible chasm had opened up and separated him from everyone else. Like all that had been left of him was a ghost going through the motions with them.
Terence had tried then to bridge that gap somehow, to bring his Prince back, but to no avail.
It hurt to remember and the wounds from it all had not quite healed yet.
Terence had only been managing by keeping himself busy; anything to keep from his mind wandering back to the feelings of guilt, loss, and encompassing regret.
And yet here the old tutor was, dragging those thoughts to the forefront.
"Looking at you now, reminds me of how Prince Dion looked the day I showed him this flower. You and him are like mirrors of each other it seems, never too far apart, and just like two pieces of a whole, or so I thought from the stories I gathered." Harpocrates paused for a moment, in contemplation. Then as if he'd decided to throw caution to the wind, continued on.
"I worry for you, is what I am trying to say. Forgive me for putting it so bluntly. I am glad that you live, but while I see a healthy young man in front of me. I wonder just how the spirit within fares?"
Unbidden, Terence recalled the sight of Bahamut in the sky atop the spire, darting around little sparkles of light in a dance of life and death. He had to have missed Dion by a week, at most. He'd paused for those few long minutes, transfixed and feeling like he'd forgotten the very notion of breathing.
How many times had he prayed to Greagor within his heart in those few moments?
Somehow, he'd managed to look away and force himself to continue on. Unwilling to see any more, or speculate what the ending that lay for his Prince was.
But Harpocrates may have been correct in his assessment. For certain, Terence could not claim to be whole after that, or rather not ever since their parting at Randellah.
The parts that Terence had given in love, Dion had taken with him to wherever he had gone..
"All that matters is that I live, and will continue to do so until I see His will at an end. Is that not enough, Master Harpocrates? For that is all I can manage at the moment."
"His Highness--"
" Prince Dion bid me to stay and fulfill his final request," Terence ground out, surprising himself with the resentment that seemed to bubble up from deep inside him. "I would have followed him to the very ends of the world, if I could. To that damned spire, even, had he told me to. But I am but a mere knight, powerless in the end and utterly… utterly incapable of helping him at the end of it all. Not with atoning for the sorry end we had brought Twinside to, a matter which as you may well be aware I should have been just as culpable for in my unwavering support of him. But in his wisdom, he thought that it is he alone who must be burdened by it all, that I could not help him but for this simple request."
He felt light-headed suddenly, breathless after it all. He was surprised by his own outburst and left deeply unsettled. He guilt followed almost immediately after. He'd understood Dion then , he'd agreed to this and all that his accepting of that duty entailed. He knew the decision was not made lightly and it had certainly come from a place of deep and abiding love.
But.
Without even realizing it, he'd shied away from Harpocrates' comforting hand.
But…
The days on the road had been unbearably long, and grueling. He couldn't remember sleeping much, or if at all. And in this state, try as he might, his mind had become the playground of many, many dark thoughts.
And then upon coming here to the Hideaway, hearing their talk. Hearing of Dion.
Naught but regrets, they said. That was what his Prince had said.
He understood . They were each other's best kept secret, after all.
But even so , it plagued his thoughts, dug its claws into him, and roused old but unfortunately deep-seated insecurities.
"I apologize for my… my outburst," Terence said slowly. He tried to organize his thoughts, to coral his wayward feelings. He could do better than this.
"Sometimes, it is best to let it out like so."
Terence shook his head. "I do not deserve to."
"Everyone deserves to be heard, unworthy as you may think you are. Every bit of our feelings, even the ones we deem to be incorrect for the situation, are valid, my child."
Terence stayed silent.
Harpocrates sighed softly.
In his tutor's eyes, Terence read genuine compassion for him, but all the same they seemed to speak to him the things he dared not admit.
You are angry. Angry at Dion.
Angry that he left you and saddled you with a child, of all things, in his foolish hope that you will continue living.
Angry that he, in all his love, could not recognize that you are as good as dead without him and the life he has gifted you is a cruel parody of the real thing.
Angry, that you would think so little of Dion and hold his tragic circumstances against him.
Angry that you are not enough and could never be enough.
Terence looked away. Regret filled him up at being so seen. He was certain it was only the old tutor's kindness that kept the man from speaking further.
But he laid Terence bare nonetheless, even if, maybe, it was unintentional.
He shouldn't have come. He should have let that final farewell be the end.
But it was too late and he was caught up here until he saw the end he thought he wanted. To know whether his Prince lived or died, knowing full well that he could not follow if it was the latter.
And what was his certainty that his Prince would still want him when he survived? When will his penance be achieved? Can the thousands of lives lost at Twinside ever be atoned for in this lifetime?
Would Dion ever feel worthy of his love again? Or was that way blocked for good?
He had no answers, and it was maddening. Even if he did, how could he trust his grief-addled mind?
He felt something cold prick his cheeks and realized with horror that he had tears left to shed. That he was crying.
Shit.
He took a step back but then what? Should he make a fool of himself by rushing out in tears? Must he further bring shame upon Dion like this?
He could only freeze then in continuing horror as the tears he thought spent flowed freely.
He might have just stood there, crying wordlessly, if not for Harpocrates who gently pulled downwards into his arms for a hug.
This time, Terence crumpled into that comforting touch and that was then that he realized that he was no longer just crying for Dion, but for all that he had lost.
For the family he hadn't seen since the failed coup, to the dragoons he had failed to save during it. For the new life that awaited him, and the stark realization of how ill-equipped he was for it.
Through it all, Master Harpocrates said nothing. He waited until Terence’s tears were spent, and then after that, until Terence was ready to speak again afterwards.
"Thank you," Terence whispered at the end.
"It's nothing, my child. In fact, I should be thanking you as well."
Terence looked confused.
"For giving me the chance to comfort someone in the way I could not His Highness."
Master Harpocrates smiled and then turned his head towards the wyvern tail he kept at his desk. "But that is that and I have a flower to cultivate. Would you help me, Sir Terence? To see this flower grow in the gardens here, plenteous enough that they might persevere until the day His Highness deems himself worthy enough to gaze upon them?"
It was a day that may never come, and they both knew it.
Even so, Terence thought he might have felt the slightest of tugs at the corner of his lips. The beginnings of a smile, however faint.
He was not ready to smile again just yet, and likely would not be able to for while. But he felt oddly comforted, regardless.
"I remember, in one of the texts you covered back then, you spoke of ancient cultures that believed in the concept of being reborn to a new life. Reincarnation, wasn't it?"
"Yes, yes," Harpocrates said excitedly, smiling widely. "It warms my heart to know my lessons have been remembered.” He shifted to a tone Terence remembered well as he read from an old passage. “But when the body dies, the soul continues on, bereft of the old body’s memories. Free to blaze a new life."
"Perhaps, it is not to be in this life then…." Terence murmured. "But I should like to see those flowers thrive. If they would allow me to."
"My boy, I am certain they will be glad to have your help," Master Harpocrates said, giving him a gentle pat on the back.
***
"I'm sorry for staying away too much," Kihel said to him quietly later that evening as he walked with her back to the small room they were provided. "I did not mean to."
"I told you that you were free to do as you will, didn’t I? As long as I knew where you were. And you were always true to your word." Terence assured her. He paused, and then asked something he had never asked before: "Are you learning well at the Infirmary?"
Kihel looked surprised for a moment and then she beamed, "Very much so. But there is so much to learn and I was told Lady Tarja had even more knowledge--..." She tempered her excitement and then spoke more gently. "But there are other physickers out there that I may learn from. We can leave here, if you like…"
"I know this place does not agree with you," Kihel finished.
Terence swallowed, struck by the concern for him. And suddenly, he was slowly realizing that this wasn’t the first time. From the very beginning, Kihel had always been mindful of him.
"I'll manage. It hasn’t been a week yet. And… an old friend lives here."
".... the Prince?" Kihel ventured but when Terence delayed with his answer, she added softly. "I'm sorry to bring him up."
Terence shook his head. "Not him. Another friend. An old tutor I had the honor of listening on from time to time in my youth. He has asked me to stay a while."
"Long enough to meet Lady Tarja?"
"Perhaps. And even longer, possibly."
"I'm glad it is not only me, then." Kihel smiled and then, shyly in the next. "I'm glad you came for me."
Terence's eyes had barely recovered from his time at the library when he felt a build up of moisture around his eyes at the words. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"As I am," he said finally when he was satisfied that he had staved off the tears again.
And for the first time, he felt nothing but sincerity in that.
***
"Who is that?"
Carla whispered out loud as soon as she'd entered the mess hall and caught sight of her friend, Tonya. The armful of Martelle apples she'd retrieved from the gardens that she was supposed to bring to the tavern forgotten, she huddled close to her friend so as to speak in more discreet terms.
"Who is who ? And why are we whispering?" Tonya whispered with some irritation.
"The man in the gardens."
"The man- You mean Cormac ?" Tonya stared at her friend in disbelief. "Are you tellin’ me you have your skirts up in a tizzy because of that man ?"
"No, of course not. Perish the thought. The other man. The new one ." Carla sighed. " The one with the softest brown hair, and eyes so deeply serious I thought I could stare at them forever. If I could get away with it, mind you. And those arms--"
Carla hugged the basket of apples ever so tightly. "I may or may not have accidentally fallen and sampled those very arms myself… and they are very sturdy."
"And lived to tell the tale, it seems," Tonya intoned dispassionately, much to Carla's annoyance.
"Can you not share in my excitement a smidgen at least? Oh, had I the courage to ask for his name then…"
Tonya sighed very, very deeply. "I'll spare you the misery. That man you're making a fool of yourself for is Sir Terence."
Carla gasped audibly and almost dropped her basket. " The knight ?"
"None other."
"But he isn't wearing armor."
"What, did you think Imperials like him eat, drink and sleep in armor like Adamantoises?"
"But how? I mean who knew that armor hid such a…. pleasant young man underneath." Apparently the revelation had done nothing to deter Carla.
Tonya shrugged. "Who knows, but the other day, he must have just got up, shed his armor, and decided he wanted to work in the gardens. And that's where he's been since… except for when the Cursebreakers ask for him."
"Do you think he wouldn't mind getting with a Bearer like me?"
"You silly girl!" Tonya waved her hand Carla to play at wanting to hit her. "Even if he wouldn't mind, in case you've forgotten he has a child--"
Carla opened her mouth.
"-- and the look of a heartbroken man yet to recover from a lost love. If that should even happen at all, if the dark look on his face is anything to go by."
Carla's reply-to-be turned into a long, disappointed sigh instead. "That brooding look did add to his charm. And all's the pity that I spied little dimple marks on his cheeks…. When I looked up, I mean, when he saved me."
"Oh Carla, you'll be the death of me."
"Not in the near future, I hope," Carla quipped back. Before smiling and staring at the direction of the gardens.
"I envy the lass that's captured his heart."
"That look tells me that lass is dead. So would you rather be that ?" Tonya pointed out.
"Hmph. See if I come to you again if you keep on hurting my poor heart," Carla cried before sniffing.
She let that sentiment hold for a moment before adjusting her hold on her basket.
"Well, I'd best be going. And pray that you will be kinder to me next time."
"Perhaps," Tonya snorted and shooed his friend away.
When Carla had gone from her sight then, Tonya took that as her chance to see for herself the vision that had all but driven her friend into that small episode of lunacy. She’d seen the man around before, for certain, but had something changed?
Following the pathways, it was not long until she found herself at the gardens and there the knight was kneeling on the ground, hands deep into the earth, tunic stained with mud.
But sunlight cascaded down his hair to add an almost angelic glow to him, and though he did not smile, his face bore a deep sense of earnesty. Perhaps even a touch of innocence.
Fine enough, Tonya decided, if one were to go by looks.
She continued to watch then, until a young girl came from the direction of the Infirmary and rushed up to him. The knight made sure to pause in the middle of his work, paying full attention to the girl who began to chat animatedly.
And though there were no smiles from the knight, Tonya recognized warmth from the way he paid attention to the girl and patiently listened as she began pointing and talking about the various herbs in the garden.
A patient and conscientious man, then, with how he carried himself around the child. Tonya couldn’t help but add that to the man’s credit. You could tell a lot from how a man treats children.
"Ah, what a pity, then." Tonya couldn't help but declare with a sigh then, echoing Carla's own sentiments.
Though for whom she felt pity for, she kept to herself.
~