Creating Chaos One Story at a Time

Without as many children, they don’t need to stop nearly as often, but it’s still time spent that they don’t really have to spare.

The feeling of bravery, of hope, falter, slowly being replaced by unease, one more as they get closer and closer to the capital, to the king. 

Often without thinking, Til finds himself turning to Noan, looking upon his face, and trying to ease the worry that makes its home there. There’s nothing to be done about it, though. Til’s own worries are growing by the day to match, but it doesn’t prevent him from trying.

Anna’s worries aren’t clear initially, she leads her people with her chin held high and a sureness in her step that Til couldn’t even think to match, but as they days drag on Anna keeps finding things to critique, things that supposedly need fixing, weapons that aren’t cleaned well enough, despite having been cleaned the night before, how the bowls had been cleaned. 

Til knew taking control was her way of dealing with it all—it likely even explained how she’d somehow become a leader among their people—but he found himself trying to soothe her and Noan in equal turns. 

Sleep is hard to find for all of them, but Noan seems to feel it worst of all, and never seems to be asleep when Til wakes for watch or the day.

It’s one of these nights—still a few days from Edmunt and a couple more from the capital—where everyone else is asleep but the two of them, where the night was dark and there was only the sound of the low burning fire, that Til tries to distract Noan, “You told me once you lived on a farm a kid, what was that like?” 

“It was a farm,” Noan tells him with a raised brow that makes Til feel a little foolish.

He waits anyway, hoping Noan will continue.

And he does, “My aunt and uncle ran it, it was their pride and joy. I went to live there after my parents died when I was small.” 

“I’m sorry, I know the pain.” Til couldn’t help but ask, “Do you know what happened to them?” 

Noan shakes his head, scuffing his boot a tad, “I do. They died in the fire that overtook Dana City. At least, that’s what my aunt told me. She was my mother’s sister, and even though Uncle didn’t like to talk about it, she thought I should know what happened.”

“My parents died from the plague that followed that fire.” Til offers, and Noan looks up to him, seemingly considering him with new eyes.

They’d all figured out that Til and Anna were siblings, if they didn’t know it before, but Til could tell from how Noan looked first at him, then at the sleeping bundle that was his sister, that the information changed things for him. 

“Anna and an older woman used to come to our farm for things they couldn’t get in the town.” Noan tells him, “They’d come a couple times a month with a couple goats laden with salves and paultices and mushrooms and tell my aunt what they needed from the town. She’d sell or trade them for whatever was needed. Anna and I would play together while they talked business.”

Til smiled at the shared memory; he remembered when they’d go out, and he always wanted to go with them to see the town and the sights. He. He missed going to the market. Anna would always tell him they never went to the market, only to trade. 

“I didn’t know it was you they were going to see. Every time I was left behind, I would get so terribly jealous. Anna would tell me about a boy she’d play with, and I would make fun of her for having an imaginary friend.”

“Not so imaginary now, huh?” Noan smiles at him, and Til smiles back.

“No, I guess not.” The smile fades a little, “Why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t do it willingly. When I was about Feter’s age, a couple of the guards came to the farm. I remember, I’d just come inside from tending the animals to find my aunt and uncle looking more scared than I’d ever seen them, with two of the Kingsguard standing in front of them. They told me the king had generously invited me to the capital to learn and apprentice under him. I thought it sounded great, but my uncle said no. The Kingsguard had seemed to understand and left.” Noan sighs, brows furrowing as he remembers things said that he leaves unshared.

“And yet, you still ended up in the capital?” Til tries not to press, but he’s curious now. Noan had previously made it sound as though he’d gone under his own power, but Til doesn’t think that’s what happened at all.

Noan nods, “I was mad at my uncle, but I knew better than to try to argue with him. The next morning, I took things to town to sell, and there- There was a fire.”

Til waits, sure he already knows, but waiting anyway.

“Everything was gone. Some neighbors had seen the smoke and tried to put it out, but by the time I got back, by the time I was there-” Noan cuts himself off, a ragged breath shuddering out of him as he covers his eyes with a hand. “They were dead. Both of them.”

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” Til wishes he could take back the question, but Noan cuts him off.

“I slept at a neighbor’s house that night, and in the morning, the Kingsguard came back for me. I was all alone in the world. I had nothing, no one left, so I went with them. Walked willingly into slavery because I had no idea that’s what it was, that it cost me everything I had and then some.”

Til doesn’t know what to say, couldn't know what to say, so he rests a hand on Noan’s knee, trying to assure the man that he was there. 

“I knew, on some level. The Kingsguard had caused the fire. Killed my aunt and uncle. But I didn’t know for sure. I knew that they were dangerous and could hurt me. But I didn’t realize how dangerous they were until I was in the capital, under the service of the king. Until I was privy to all that he was doing.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Til asks, “Surely there had to be somewhere you could go?”

“I, uh, I tried. Once. The scars might be gone from that ordeal, but I don’t think the nightmares ever will.” Til’s hand tightens reflexively. He doesn’t want to know what happened there, but he can fully believe that it was terrible. “And anyway, I know I can’t go directly against the king’s word, but I can still help. Or at least try. I’ve been able to rescue a few people, those who were in danger and didn’t even know it. Get information to people I suspected were spies, but I don’t think that ever went anywhere. I may not have been able to physically take the helmets off the honored, but I was able to get a few to do it themselves. Not that they realized it would be possible to save their life. But it worked enough.”

Even though Noan eventually fell asleep, Til kept thinking about their conversations, about how it sometimes felt as though when Noan was around, there wasn’t anyone else. He wondered just how much of their lives had been spent so close to each other, and yet never meeting. They’d both been in Dana City when they were they were very small, and they’d both lost their parents to the disasters that Til was sure were brought on by the king. They’d been so close to each other in their childhoods, but never met. Anna had talked about him so much every time she left to trade. They’d gone to the capital so close to each other, at least Noan thought they had, and because they both felt forced to go. How many years had they been near each other but never speaking at the citadel? 

And now, after a lifetime of being so close to each other and never talking, only a few weeks after their first actual conversation, Til didn’t think he could bear to be separated from Noan again. 

When he thought of the future, of a life where he was free, Noan was there with him. 

But he also thought about how Noan tried to get other knights to take off their helmets. He’d heard the stories that made Noan out to be a flirt, someone who liked a man in armor, though whether they were actually men didn’t seem to matter to him much. He’d gotten more than the few people he’d claimed to take off their helmets if the rumor mill were to be trusted. Not that Til did. But it still stuck with him like a rock in his boot. 

Even when he thought he’d finally shaken it out, there were just a few steps later.

Til waited once more for nightfall to approach Noan. He sits himself further from the other man than he had the night before, needing space to think about this clearly. This time, his goal was not simply to free Noan from his concerns, but perhaps to release his own. Or at least allowing him a chance to move on before he got his heart broken. 

Noan doesn’t look any more worried than he had the night before, though he’s still not sleeping; the light of the fire flickers over his face, casting strange shadows over much of it.

Til is sure he should approach this with care, ease into it somehow, but he can’t find the patience for that within himself, and he knows if he waits too long or tries to approach it softly, he may never actually do it.

“Previously, were you flirting with me just so I would remove my helmet? Or, was it for-” Til tries to avoid any inflection in his voice of any what he might have felt, but he can feel a little hope creep into his voice when he says, “-other reasons?” 

Noan looks at him, and Til can’t help but feel stuck like a bug. He’s all too aware that they’re not alone, that there won’t be any possibility of them following through with actions any time soon, good or bad, but does what he can to match the other man’s gaze.

“I’m… Not sure.” Noan finally says, “At least, I wasn’t sure.”

Til can feel his eyebrows climb like leeches before a storm, getting high as they can and then refusing to come back down. 

“You’ve always been a little fun to flirt with. You didn’t outrageously flirt, and most of the time you didn’t at all, but when you did-” Noan’s face twists into a little smile, “You played. You teased just a little, just often enough to make it worth doing, even if I couldn’t get an inch out of you.”

“I didn’t flirt back.” Til tries to defend himself, sure that the other man must be mistaken.

“Oh yes, you did. For someone so serious and intent all the time, you flirted back a little.” Noan insists, sitting up a little taller, smile growing a little more. 

“I can’t have, we were on a serious quest-” Til’s defense dies when Noan’s face drops into confusion.

“I’m talking about before the quest, before I really got to know you,” Noan says, suddenly sounding unsure.

“I don’t- I don’t remember you flirting with me. I don’t think we even really interacted.” 

“But we did?” Noan's confusion seems to grow. “You told me about your sister, and that you learned to hunt from your foster father. That you had come to the capital to prove a point.” 

Those all sounded right, but how could Noan know? “Noan, I don’t remember telling you any of that.”

A quiet horror creeps over Noan’s face, “I think, I think I know why. The king wants his knights to be the same. What better way to make them the same than to make it hard to remember individual people?”

Til shakes his head. That seems impossible. Could he have really done that to my mind?”

“He’s made it impossible for me to speak at times. Why couldn’t he make it harder to remember people?”

Til wonders who else may have been stolen from him; his sister nearly was, he knows that much, knows that his memories of her had been weaker and weaker, his parents were nothing more than ghosts of people. When he tries to think of the other knights, any of them, there’s no substance to them, nothing more than suits of armor. 

“I tried a lot of ways, you know,” Noan says softly. “To get your helmet off. You may not remember it, but I did. I did all kinds of things; I even bribed some of those who’d already taken off theirs to remove yours. But it never worked.”

Til’s memories of the capital are surrounded by fog; the mention of knights trying to remove his helmet is there, somewhere, but it’s immaterial, and he can’t see any of it clearly, can’t remember any of it clearly. He’s sure it happened, knows that it must have at some point. But when? 

“And then, you volunteered, and I thought there might still be hope for you. Donner sent me along to keep you on task, but you could be on task and still end up losing the helmet. So I tried harder than I ever had before.”

“Why? Why me? Why not someone else?” Til asks, all too aware of the weight of his armor, of how it softly clinks when he moves even now. 

“Because I thought you had potential. And you did. You could have really changed things, I knew it. And, you were too nice to everyone, letting the young knights get more sleep on early shifts, following the rules to a letter without forcing them onto other people. And you helped a lot of people, I think, for no other reason than because it was the right thing to do.” 

Noan pauses, licking his lips, the smile back, but bitter now. 

Til’s never felt quite so seen, but also worried. 

“And I knew you’d get to the Kingsguard quickly. And I hated the idea of it. I hate when it happens. I feel like I’ve failed every one of them. Because I didn’t try hard enough, because I couldn't pull them back from the edge. And you-” Noan’s smile turns from bitter to just sad, “You would be the worst loss.”

“You won’t lose me now.” Til says, sounding so much more sure than he feels, “I’m seeing the way I should now. And we’re going to fight the beast together.”

“And you’ll be in even more danger than you were before,” Noan tells him, his words punctuated by the crack of the logs breaking and falling. “If we lose, if we fail…”

“We’ll be made into examples.” Til finishes for him.

Noan nods. 

Til knew it, Noan knew it. The others probably knew it as well. 

It wouldn’t be pretty. They’d probably die slow, horrid deaths that the king would watch every minute of with glee. 

“Well, seeing as how the odds are against us, and we’re probably going to die, is there anything you want to do before you die?” Til knows there’s no real way to lighten the mood, but he’ll try anyway. 

Noan laughs, a sharp bark of noise that’s sure to wake the others, “Yeah, you.” 

Jaw dropping, Til can feel his face immediately flame, his ears burn, and since he’s taken the helmet off, he hadn’t wished to put it back on, but now he really wants to. The heat from his face seems to spread to his entire body, centering just beneath his sternum.

A part of him can’t believe that Noan would not only say it, but say it so easily, without pause or thought for it. But another part sees how Noan looks almost as surprised, maybe by Til’s own reaction. 

Before Til can think of anything to say or do in response, Noan stands and walks over, taking advantage of the brief moment of surprise to land a kiss against Til’s cheek, something that almost surprises him more than the man’s ease of saying what he wanted, of getting in under Til’s skin somehow and making a home there.

“Maybe-” Til’s not sure what’s Noan’s going to say, but he’s going to hear him out anyway, “-that shouldn’t be something to do before I die, but instead my reward for winning?”

Til feels barely in control of himself, but he manages a nod before saying, “I think that’s a fair prize for winning. But- uh, well. We can discuss the nature of your prize later.”

“Maybe you two can stop being idiots somewhere we can’t escape you.” Anna’s voice is very clear and very full of irritation. 

There’s muffled laughter from the other people, and Til feels himself heat all over again.

They both apologize to the others, but Noan manages to catch Til’s eye with a great big smile. 

Face still burning, Til manages a small one in return.

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