My Condolences My Lady (5/5, evening, Adrien/Elanor)

[Adrien Fontenot]

“Please vacate the room,” Adrien spoke as he stepped into the parlor were lady Elanor was with retinue, still grieving the loss of her brother. “I wish to speak to the lady alone, if that please her.” He expected no argument though. He was the king. And he knew that Elanor needed him now that his brother was gone. She needed him as a shield before all of Arbrecht erupted.

He waited as the servants and others left Elanor’s side. Even his horn waited outside the door, closing it once everyone had left. Adrien moved to knee down before Elanor, compassion in his eyes. He knew what loss was. He knew what she was feeling. He knew very well how death could steal someone you loved away. He’d lost a sibling as well, his lovely sister Laurine, but more he felt his parents death stabbing at his heart again. She must feel much the same. Jon had been her rock the way Joseph had been his. Gods, if he lost Aurora now, he knew he’d be a wreck.

“My Lady?” he asked, leaving the moment open for her to speak, to tell him what she needed, or if she needed something. She would have to recover quickly, he knew, far faster than he’d had to when his mother, and then father, passed. But when Stephane had succumbed to the plague, there had been no time to grieve. Adrien had taken the crown upon his young fourteen year old head and assumed to make the decisions that had to be made. Elanor had to do that now, and almost immediately.

There was little time to waste on tears.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

Please vacate the room.

She recognized the voice. Elanor closed her eyes, wearily, but made no motion or sound as her chamber slowly cleared. The footsteps sounded hollow because they echoed against a new, deep silence, punctuated now and again only by the rustle of fabric. Who would have thought grief could play such games with sound? And now the King was here, wanting to talk--the last thing Elanor felt like doing.

When she opened her eyes she and Adrien were alone, and he was on his knees before her. He looked more a man now, somehow; something in his eyes made him older than the boy she'd met at the lake. Whatever the Something was, it was a great beautifier. Elanor stared at her sovereign for a moment, trying to work out the puzzle, then at his question slumped forward in her chair. What was she supposed to do? The moment after Jon fell seventeen years' worth of buried tears had risen to the surface, searing her eyes in their desire to fall, but now that her brother was cold and still with his smile forever gone there was nothing. It was hollow and numb and very, very lonely, and she searched Adrien's eyes almost without recognition. "...Your Grace."

For once in her life, she didn't know what to say.

[Adrien Fontenot]

He knew her pain. He understood it. That was not why he had come. Partly, it was proper that the king should see the heiress of Arbrect, but partly because he wanted to see her again. He had not forgotten their conversation by the lake, where strength had matter and she had made clear he must be perfect. And now, he knew, for the sake of Arbrecht, he needed to tell her the same.

But looking at her now, it was hard. He just wanted to pulled her into his arms and tell her to cry. To let the tears flow, even though both knew there was little time for that. Tonight, would be alright. Tomorrow too. But then she needed put on her dress and look the part of the lady of Arbrecht, before the entire province fell apart.

“My Lady,” he repeated. Then he reached for her and pulled her into his lap, his arms around her chest. “Cry if you must. Cry hard. Cry now. I will cry with you, for I know your pain. I know what you’ve lost. But you told me out there by the lake, that everyone is looking for holes. They will bring you down if you them. Your tears must flow and then end. Just like mine did two years ago.”

He felt stronger now that ever. He had to be her rock and her shield. She’d told him she had so few... but he could do that for her.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

Adrien was...wait, what was he doing? Elanor was taken completely off-guard when Adrien moved forward and snapped his arms around her, and was only more bewildered to be dragged into his lap. What by the mountains was going on?

He was telling her to cry. Fitzwulf shifted uncomfortably, rigid and uncertain in the embrace. No man had ever held her this way, including people like Jon or Aelf who she expected to embrace her. Only her brother would never touch her again, in any way, and thinking this brought such a searing pain she cried out. It wasn't a shout, exactly, but a low and wounded sound that held real anguish. "I can't."

She didn't want to be held now. Not like this; not by the boy-king she hardly knew. Elanor drooped in his arms, slumping over him as though he was a wall. In a way she guessed he was, but was he keeping her in or other people out? "I can't," Elanor repeated. "I had plenty of tears on the field, but I couldn't shed them then so I pushed them far away. I think they've frozen now."

Her voice was calm with a horrible despair, and she closed her eyes with a little shudder to end on a whisper. "...Jon didn't even have a chance to fight back."

[Adrien Fontenot]

She truly was has hard as the people from the north claimed to be. Adrien struggled to understand it; it was not the way of his people. Oh, they didn’t run around and cry in public, but when his mother has passed, his father had not forced them to hold back. They had cried for longer than her could remember, and even when he thought he couldn’t cry any longer, he’d cried more. He couldn’t remember his father crying though, but Adrien believed he had. Just not in public. Just not in front of others. Perhaps Elanor thought of him like all the others. Like she had out by the lake.

His thoughts of her were such a whirlwind, but he pushed those aside. Right now he just wanted to focus on her pain, to let he know he understood. His family had been taken from him far too young and early as well.

“I don’t know what happened. It was so fast. I didn’t think the men would be out there trying to kill each other. The rest of the melee went... much better.” Which was true. No one seemed to fight nearly as hard as the knight who’d gone after Jon. And no one, that he knew of, actually seemed to know who that man was. Which was also odd, but he wasn’t going to mention that to her either.

“Do you know what you will do now? I know that you haven’t had much time to think of this, Elanor,” Adrien continued, still holding her even though she seemed only to simply lay on him. But that was ok too. Expected. “But there is no much time to ensure that those who looked to Fitzwulf continue to do so.”

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"They murdered him."

The words sounded clear as a bell, and Elanor sat up straighter in Adrien's lap. She didn't care if there wasn't any evidence; she didn't care if people would think she was crazy. But some part of her knew and Adrien's bewilderment seemed almost ridiculous against that very solid, stony knowing. She turned where she sat, looking the King in the face. "I was watching. That knight came to Jon from behind, and made as if to hit his shoulder. He got his head."

Elanor's eyes were cold. "An accident, I guess it seems. But why go from behind in the first place? It's dishonorable. And why strike so gods-damned hard in a melee? Even if that knight had gotten his shoulder, that blow would have been forceful enough to bring him down. Probably even to permanently destroy his arm. And it seems very convenient to me that this knight nobody has heard of just happened to go for the hated Jon Fitzwulf and just happened to kill him and just happened to fade away after it was over. I don't care what anyone else says. I'm calling it murder."

She turned back to the front, staring straight ahead. "Accidents happen, of course. But the man who died in the joust was an accident. This is a different animal."

A much too convenient animal. Elanor's lips tightened into a hard line, and she glared at the window as if it was the person responsible for this. "And with this animal, the logic follows that I'm going to be next." She stood up. "I need to meet with the men and women of my province. I need to try to win support, now; I need to petition the aid of the other province lords. I'll probably need to get betrothed. Everything starts tomorrow morning."

[Adrien Fontenot]

Her voice was so strong even Adrien was shocked. She was so sure of this, even though there was no proof. And if he’d been the knight who had landed such a blow in the heat of the melee, and was worried people might well accuse him of such... no, Adrien wouldn’t have run. But a lesser man might have. Not all the knights came from great houses. Some were from lesser vassals. And some of those yet were even unlanded, knighted for some great deed but that didn’t mean they’d been brought up all their lives understanding honor the way he had been trained by Tysilio.

“You can be assured, we will be investigating. The council does not take the death of a province lord lightly. After the ball, I will convene and discuss what needs to be done next. If there was foul play, we will find it. If not, I hope you can accept that we were thorough.”

Adrien shook his head. “No, I will protect you. I...” he paused, realizing that because, at least for the moment, she was heiress, he could not wed her. She would need a man who could return with her to rule Arbrecht. Someone who could be trusted, who would protect her always. And that couldn’t be him, because he was king and had to stay here and take a wife who could be queen.

For some reason that made him sad.

“You will need a husband,” he choked out, “One that is loyal to you, to me, and to the future of Arbrecht...”

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

The young woman sat again, unable to outpace her worries or to walk away the anger sitting hard and cold over her heart. There was no point right now; later she would probably need to train with Aelf until her muscles cried out for rest. For the moment she could wait. "I'm sure you will be as thorough as you can. But if you find nothing, it does not mean this was an accident. It means that someone else was careful and clever." Her voice was steely, and she looked at Adrien with complete conviction. "I will never believe that this just happened."

The only way Elanor thought she could possibly be convinced of the accidental nature of Jon's death was if her brother returned to tell her the facts, but since that was never going to occur she was firmly set in her belief of murder. And she was never going to let that be forgotten or taken lightly, not even by a King.

The young woman softened a little at Adrien's offer of protection, tilting her head to regard him almost curiously. That was something, at least; even the traitors who had killed Jon would be wary about going against the order of their liege, at least for the time being. But Adrien didn't finish his sentence, nor expound on his plan for keeping her safe, and instead turned the conversation to husbands. A little startling, perhaps, but he was right in suggesting that a husband would be a good way to secure her position and help keep her safe. It was certainly something to plan about. "...Well, the trouble is that he should probably be from Arbrecht. They won't appreciate a foreign king. Province Lord."

Elanor corrected herself automatically, slipping into consideration as she thought aloud. "I can think of no one. The Harcourts are snakes, even if the son seems better than the rest. The Montroses are shaky; the Vulferams despise me...there are so few people I can trust." She put her chin in her hand. "Warin Hallvador. He's steady and loyal and a staunch warrior; he could do. Of course he's past sixty so I'd likely have to choose again soon, but he would keep me safe while he was able to do so."

[Adrien Fontenot]

Adrien felt like he’d been punched, even if he’d brought it up. Why? He shouldn’t care. He’d kissed Lady Rosamund and flirted with Lady Deirdre and crushed on Lady Keyna and thought Lady Aesha was just too cute. And yet, there was something about Lady Elanor that was different than all of them. And now she was the heiress, and no longer his to have. And he hated that! He hated the way that made him feel. And he hated realizing that he was attracted to her and someone else would have her.

Someone like Warrin Hallvador, “He’s an old man!” he blurted out, even though she’d already stated that. “You don’t want some old man...” Gods. In bed with her? He couldn’t even.. he looked away. “There must be someone in that kingdom you trust. Are there no younger Hallvadors?”

He sighed softly and started to reach for her face and then pulled back. Foolish to even think about it, he told himself. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this. The celebration was to be of joy and happiness, not this... pain and suffering. We already had too much of that.”

And what if Jon was murdered. What if all of Arbrect fell into discord over this. What he were to just take Elanor as Queen and let someone else rule the place, rather then the woman they all hated... but she would hate him for that. He knew it already. She wouldn’t want to be forced from what was her brother’s in her mind. That her father had earned through war. So he simply kept quiet, unsure now, even though he was supposed to be king and know it all.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"It isn't about what I want. It has never been about what I want."

By the mountains, that was true enough. Elanor looked at Adrien with solemn resolve in her face, and perhaps a hint of bitter melancholy. "I never wanted a father who was so widely hated. I never wanted my mother and brothers to die; I did not particularly want to be friendless and cold and more a man than a woman. No aspect of my life has been about what I wanted and I expected marriage to be the same way. In truth I never bothered thinking about it much -- how likely was it that Arbrecht would need me to wed the same place I wanted to go? Marriage is an afterthought."

Elanor crossed her legs, considering. "There is a younger Hallvador, but I need a strong and experienced leader who can help me pull the province together. The Montroses will not be pleased to have a Hallvador as Lord but Warin is a doughty man; there is a chance the other houses will be more willing to follow him than me alone. And I suppose he would not be unkind to me...not that it matters."

He was moving toward her again, but this time stopped before he could...what? Pull her into his lap again? Elanor watched the King curiously, a little at a loss with all this motion, but shrugged her shoulders. Previously she had thought it her duty to win him over, to earn the place of a Queen from Arbrecht, but now her task was to lead the province strongly. Such games no longer had a place. "This is not your fault. I'm sorry it's happening as well, but I know you meant for things to be better. The beginning of our stay was enjoyable, if it's any comfort."

[Adrien Fontenot]

She was right and he knew it. The nobility were servants of the needs of the kingdom, more than their own desires. Adrien would be lucky enough to choose his own wife, but most were not so fortunate. If his father were still alive (and oh, Adrien wished he was), then Joseph would choose for him, the right alliance that would make for a stronger kingdom. And he would make that choice for himself as well. The right woman, over the one he might want…

Even if it hurt him. And Elanor would do the same. She was so strong, so confident and accepting of her future. He wished he could be just like her in that regard, but he said nothing of it. She was right. Warin was the best choice, even if Adrien hated that thought and everything about it. He envied the man who would lead Arbrecht, who would bed Elanor. Because sudden he realized, he wanted her and now he couldn’t have her.

“I wish I could say it was Elanor, but nothing will comfort me from this.” He rose and moved a few steps away, unsure if he should stay, but not truly wanting to leave. “I offer the services of my household to aid you in whatever you need to help with the future of your province. It is the least I can do.”

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"Thank you, Your Grace." Elanor rubbed her forehead with her palm, the tiredness coming back with no warning. "I think I'll need all the help I can find." It was an embarrassing confession, but a true one -- she was a woman suddenly given the reins of power, and Elanor already knew it wouldn't go over well. A woman and a Fitzwulf; was her reign going to be cursed from the very beginning?

Pessimistically she rather thought it would. After all, anything that began with the death of a well-loved brother could hardly turn out well. Still, she knew what she was doing. She loved Arbrecht; she was strong. There was a chance things would smooth out eventually. "Is there a chance we could meet with the other province lords? I'll need to ask for their support."

[Adrien Fontenot]

Adrien nodded, “The ball is the day after tomorrow and then I planned a few days of meeting with the lords anyway. We can do it then, a meeting of Arbrecht with myself and you, and we will ensure that the province remains peaceful. We can arrange your marriage then as well.” He choked down the last, finding the thought still made his stomach feel as though he’d been punched in the gut and left rolling on the ground in pain.

“Would that suit you, my lady?” Adrien reached for her again and then dropped back. He needed to stop doing that. She was the lady of Arbrecht now and he needed to be proper. He needed to be formal. He needed to remember he was the king and be strong as she’d once told him.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"Yes, that sounds perfect. And if it's at all possible for me to meet with the lords of the other provinces -- I feel I should. If I can't get enough support from Arbrecht I'll have no choice but to look elsewhere, and it cannot only be from you."

Elanor looked tired again, but how could she keep the expression off her face when the feeling had settled all the way to her bones? Her brother was dead. She had to somehow pull Arbrecht together in unity to her despite the dozens of factors making it impossible; she had to marry an old man she didn't know. It was true that Fitzwulf wasn't as bothered by it as other girls would likely be, but she wasn't happy about it either. Was it wrong to just want a small measure of laughter in her life before she died? Warin wouldn't bring it. She doubted he would be bad but it seemed it would be yet another time when she wouldn't know joy.

All at once the ache was too much to bear, and this time when Adrien reached for her he wasn't left out to dry. Elanor seized his hand almost unconsciously, clinging to the human warmth like it was a lifeline. "Thank you for helping me. This feels like being asked to carry iron."

[Adrien Fontenot]

“What about the Prothero’s? Perhaps the Lady Rhiannon would lend her support, for all the Fitzwulf did for her family during the occupation of the Linchao? I can set a meeting between the three of us, something private, where you could speak to her about what you might need. Would that please the lady?”

He almost felt desperate and he didn’t know why. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted to be the one that made her happy, so that she would smile at him instead of wearing that sullen expression that seemed to pull at her face all the time.

“I’m here to help you though. Don’t feel like you’re carrying it all yourself. We have to make Arbrecht stable, and you need me to do that and I need you to succeed.”

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"It does please me." Adrien's habit of referring to her as 'the lady' was charming. Elanor guessed that if he did the same thing to the other girls they would be eating out of his hands. "I've already spoken once with Lady Prothero, and I like her. I think she likes me. I think she will help if I ask for it; she knows I'm trying and she understands my predicament. It's a good idea, Your Grace. And perhaps Lord Faerald would also be willing to help, he seems a kind man. Lord DeLauncey...maybe. Lucius and Eveline would give aid if they could, but I don't want to trouble their brother. He seems to be having a difficult time."

She paused for a moment, pondering, then snapped back to the present at the king's words. On one hand the offer of help was a comfort, but on the other his dependance on her success was only added pressure. "I'll do everything I can, Your Grace. Stability in Arbrecht has been all I've ever wanted; I'd give my life for it. If I fail it won't be for lack of effort."

[Adrien Fontenot]

Gently, almost unsure, but it had been her who had grabbed his hand this time and so he thought it might be alright to pull her a bit closer. “I’m sure the DeLauncey’s would help... weren’t they close to Jon? Wasn’t Eveline betrothed to Henry? They should be your friend too. I don’t see why they shouldn’t. And my uncle would support you if I asked. He’s a good man. And Lord Aashiq is wed to a Fitzwulf. How can you fail? The entire realm should support you...”

But the people who mattered were the men and women of Arbrecht..

He left that unsaid.

“You.. don’t have to rule there if you don’t want. You could stay here. If that’s easier...”

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

Was this becoming what she thought it was? It seemed impossible, but Adrien's behavior...

Elanor let Adrien move her closer, nothing changing in her eyes. "It would be easier to stay here, yes. Much easier. I could pass the throne to my uncle, or to...someone else. But does that mean it's right? I could rule well, I know that; Arbrecht is my love. I am the last of my father's children, chosen for this. Would it be right to pass my responsibility to someone else, someone I could not be sure I trusted?"

[Adrien Fontenot]

He saw the set of her eyes and pulled back. “You’re right. I just hate to think... that you’d be in danger is all. I don’t like the idea of those men in Arbrecht thinking to take advantage of you is all. But I know, you must go.” He didn’t want her to go, but he wasn’t going to argue when she was probably right and he wouldn’t sway her anyway.

Even he completely disagreed. If he his father had had no sons, then his uncle would have ruled next and his uncle’s son Quentin. Or if he’d been the only son and died. And he thought Arbrecht was like that as well, but he couldn’t be sure. Every family had their own quirks.

He rose and pulled her up. “And I should too, my lady. It is late and you must finish grieving before the morning.” He didn’t want to leave, but if he didn’t, he’d say something stupid and she’d give him one of her lectures and he’d get frustrated and that was just an excuse anyway. He didn’t want to admit he wanted her to change her mind.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"Wait. Stay a little longer."

The young woman was shocked by the words that left her lips, not expecting them to come at all and certainly not expecting them to be a plea, but a moment later she understood why they had. Her mind flashed to Jon, cold and still, and all at once the thought of staying the night with the battered corpse and none but Aelf to comfort her became too much to bear. It was grotesque. He was her brother and she hadn't feared his body when first he fell, but in the middle of the night in the silence -- oh, it made her skin crawl! Aelf had closed his eyes, but she could see them still, lifeless and blank and just staring upwards. Elanor had a feeling that memory would haunt her the rest of her life, and right now it was too much for her resolve. It was just too much.

"Please stay. It will be so quiet."

With that little plea Elanor Fitzwulf buried her face in her hands, unable or unwilling to halt the tears slipping down her cheeks.

[Adrien Fontenot]

He froze. Elanor’s words were the last thing Adrien had expected her to say. He watched her for a moment, wanting to be sure she meant what she said. So many times he wasn’t sure she even wanted his company, but her words were sincere, and repeated, and then she began to cry. Adrien felt his heart breaking again and he moved to wrap his arms around her.

“I will stay, if that is what you need. I would stay...” He’d stay because she asked, because he wanted to take care of her. Because she was so strong normally and in this moment she looked so weak and so vulnerable and Adrien wanted to be the one to help her regain that strength.

He didn’t want her to go back to Arbrecht. He already knew that, and yet, he couldn’t ask her to stay when she truly didn’t wish to...

“Let me help you...” he whispered, pulling her closer. “What can I do?”

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"I don't know." Elanor cried freely, letting Adrien put his arms around her before giving up any semblance of control and burying her face in his shoulder. "I keep thinking of how he looked. He's so different now, and I thought I could bear it but I just can't. Not alone. Not in the night and not in silence. It's gruesome; it isn't fair. It isn't fair!"

All at once she changed again, ripping out of his arms and slamming her hands to the wall. Her tears did not slow, but neither did she -- now anger mixed with grief, and Elanor reared an arm back to beat the stones again and again. It didn't matter that it wasn't refined, or that her hands and feet were turning raw from the kicks and slaps, or that Adrien would see her. She was in the presence of a King and even he could not bring her brother back; there was nothing to be done but live without the only friend she'd ever known. There was a snarl, a tortured sob, and then Elanor Fitzwulf sank to the floor and wept into her knees.

[Adrien Fontenot]

Adrien could remember easily how he looked. He’d been right there next to Elanor as Jon died, the blood everywhere, the injury to his head... He’d looked awful, and she’d had to sit there, being strong and watching as the last of his life bled from him. Adrien hadn’t been allowed to see his parents die, but he could still understand her frustration. He could empathize with her loss. Couldn’t most of them? The plague had decimated families... but then, the plague had been natural. It had been of the gods.

Jon’s death had not.

He held back as she raged. He wanted to stop her, to go to her, but Adrien knew she needed let it out. She needed to vent her pent pain somehow. As she slumped to the floor he moved, there, to hold her again. He lifted her hands and frowned at the blood and scraps caused by the wall, but it was nothing compared to the pain he knew was her heart. He wondered if she even felt it.

“We’ll need to have the physician look at these,” he whispered, wanting to do something. “We need...” What could he do? Adrien had never felt so helpless when it came to the needs of someone else. He felt like the small boy again, who had been told his mother had died, and there was nothing he could to do stop it. Nothing he could do to bring her back. He couldn’t take away the pain his sister and brother felt. He couldn’t help his father. He couldn’t do anything then. What could he possibly do now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not that words would help.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

Adrien was sorry. Elanor knew this; at any rate she believed him, but even so she didn't know what to say. Normally when people expressed regret, the response was something like "it's all right"...but this time, it wasn't. Jon was dead. He wasn't coming back.

The girl slumped in Adrien's arms, the fight leaving her to be replaced by silent, dripping tears. At least someone was here with her. At least --

The door opened and Aelf stepped inside. Elanor recognized the tread of her guard and made no sign of alarm, nor moved to leave Adrien's embrace, but the older man didn't seem to notice. Instead he silently crossed the room, crouching in front of the two with a serious gaze. Of course the man had been listening, ever watchful of his charge even when a king had ordered him away; Elanor expected it of him whatever Fontenot might have thought. The look Aelf gave Lady Fitzwulf was pitying, but surprisingly he addressed Adrien first. "...Them cuts aren't so bad, Majesty; can tend 'em yourself with a little knowledge. Bruises tain't something t'call a physician for."

Aelf rested a broad hand on Elanor's shoulder, then returned a gentle gaze to the king. "A King should know this kind of healing, as should any man that fights. Would ye like to help me tend our lady?"

[Adrien Fontenot]

Adrien just stared at Aelf for a moment, and then nodded. He hadn’t really helped with this before. His father might have made him, but after his mother had died, his father had changed. And then he’d died too. And no one had forced him to tend to wounds. Geoffry taught him sword and shield, and Geoff probably did know that type of healing, but Adrien didn’t.

At least, not beyond sticking a cloth on it and holding it tight until the bleeding stopped. Adrien suspected that wasn’t all Aelf was planning to do.

“Just show me what needs to be done and we’ll get the Lady back to right,” he added, turning back to look into Elanor’s eyes. What was it about her that made him want to keep her safe? She didn’t act like a fragile flower, as so many high born ladies did. Yet, he wanted to tuck her away and keep the rest of the world from stabbing at her any longer.

Maybe because even though she didn’t act that way, he knew still could hurt like all the rest.

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"Good lad." Once again Aelf was not formal, but he was certainly approving and immediately unbuckled a leather pouch from around his waist. The guard set it on the ground, opening the flap to reveal the contents for this young King. He wasn't minding Elanor now -- not because he didn't care for her, but because these lessons were ones she had already learned. Aelf tugged at a bundle of folded-up linen, pulling out a square before cutting it off with his knife. He then pulled out a cask of clear liquid, some of which he poured onto the new piece of cloth. A moment later, it was in Adrien's hands. "That's witch hazel. Th'whole plant is good for healing -- the powdered bark and the sap. Wards back infection and soothes wounds..for little scratches like those our Lady has, it's really all you need."

Aelf moved behind Adrien, taking the king's hands in his own and extending them out to Elanor's. She offered one hand obediently, lowering her eyes from Adrien's gaze, and Aelf guided their sovereign into a gentle clasp. "Be easy now. Let the cloth sit some time so the potion can work a little, then move downward. Very gently."

The older man demonstrated, guiding Adrien into a gentle stroke. "Don't rub back and forth. At the end of the cut lift your hands, go to the top again, and move down. If you're fretting about infection it's tempting to scrub, but harsh motion like that tears the skin and will make it harder to heal. A clean cut heals faster than a rugged one."

He'd been fifteen once, too, he could see what was going on here. Elanor likely did not -- she was too serious, and had never once had a man show interest for her, nor even a boy once she was over the age of seven. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to help it along. "Elanor, m'girl, doesn't that feel better?"

She nodded, tired. "It didn't hurt at first. I was too angry...but it does now. That balm is soothing."

[Adrien Fontenot]

It felt strange to have the old man guiding his hands. As king, there were so few people that would touch him and most without his permission, as though he were a sacred flower or butterfly and the touch would destroy whatever it was that made him special. Aelf had no such belief, clearly, and his rough hands simply took Adrien’s and moved them about as though the king were a pupil or a son or companion. But her hands needed to be tended, and Aelf’s moments were smooth, gentle and clearly practiced. So he allowed the man to guide him, as he cleaned the wounds with the slow strokes Aelf spoke of.

They finished the first and then Adrien took Elanor’s other hand and on his own repeated the instructions that Aelf had given. Move slow, one direction, pause to let the potion work into the wound. He was completely aware of her skin, of the way his other hand held onto hers, of how for once he was helping her instead of the other way around. And he liked it. He liked that he was able to do this for her. He liked that she was letting him. He liked that he was in her chambers, speaking with her, and she wasn’t gushing all over him.

Oh, he liked when they gushed too, but that feeling wasn’t the same as this one. He didn’t know what this one was, only that he wanted Elanor to be safe and happy, and he wanted her to stay.

And he wanted to kiss her. But he didn’t dare. Not with Aelf there. And not Elanor. Not the woman who was so ready to return home, and who would likely chide him for being so forward or foolish or something of the like. But he wanted it. And he knew it. And he held that little piece of knowledge in a tightly closed box.

“There... is that better?”

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"Yes, it's better." Elanor answered Adrien quietly, lifting her head to look into his face. She'd been surprised to see how careful the boy was, and how receptive to Aelf's instruction, and for the first time there was approval in her eyes. "You did very well, Your Grace...Aelf thinks so too. He likes you."

She didn't pull her hand away, too focused on her explanation to think of it. "If he didn't, he'd be calling you 'Majesty' or some such; in an interesting reversal he's only informal with people he respects. Of course, he's been guarding me since I was three, and he's more my father than my own was. So I think he's rather earned the right."

Aelf had drawn away to lean against the wall, letting the two speak alone a while, but at this point he cut in again. "She has the right of it. It's wise to focus on the lessons people can teach you rather than how exactly they show respect. Anyone can call you 'Majesty', but it takes a friend to believe you worthy of being taught."

Elanor smiled, quietly, but at last the expression was there. "And it takes a good heart to put aside royal pride in favor of learning and doing what needs to be done. I'm proud of you, Adrien. I hope you never let that change."

She stood, wearily moving over to sink down on her chaise while keeping the square of linen pressed to the back of one hand. "You're being a good friend to me today. Thank you."

[Adrien Fontenot]

He felt strange being complemented by both, as though he were some pupil instead of the king. Elanor sounded like Julius and Aelf as well and he had to admit that it was strange. But he nodded, and took the words to heart, because Elanor wouldn’t have said them if she didn’t mean them. Elanor had always been open and honest with him.

“You’re welcome,” he replied softly, still holding her hand. He didn’t want to let it go now that he had it. “I’m being a friend to you though, because I care about you. Not because of Aelf, or because I’m king. I like you Elanor. You’re a good person, a good...” He didn’t know how to say it. He couldn’t put into words exactly what he was feeling for her, only that he knew he wanted her even though he couldn’t have her. Maybe because he couldn’t have her.

He looked up to where Aelf was sitting and simply nodded. Aelf was a good man who also clearly cared about Elanor. Adrien was glad she had someone. She would need someone in the days to come. He couldn’t always be there, with everything else everyone expected of him. Aelf would provide that much at least.

He rose to follow her wanting to be close. He found a seat as close as possible, his eyes still upon her. “If there is something else you need...”

[Elanor Fitzwulf]

"People don't usually like me." Elanor confessed, making no protest when Adrien followed her to sit close by. She was too surprised to really notice or care; for some reason this situation was confusing. "And I don't usually...well, it just seems wiser to be indifferent. It spares me hurt later. I..." She paused, trying to find words. "I wish I could say I liked you too, just as easily. I think I do. I mean, I think you're worth liking. I just...I've never been able to trust anyone who wasn't Aelf or my own kin."

The young woman sighed, rubbing at the back of her neck with the hand that remained free. "I'm sorry I'm so cold. I'm not sure I can help that now, but I guess I'm trying to give you my thanks for this kindness and...return it, in some small way. You asked my friendship at the lake and it still remains true that I don't know how, but if nothing else you'll have my loyalty when you need it."

There was a silence, Elanor falling into her thoughts before pulling her hand away and curling up. "No thank you, Your Grace. I'm actually tired now -- and I was certain I wouldn't be so you can congratulate yourself for your help."