#lirial

He nearly crumpled right then and there, but something overtook him. He nearly broke out in a sprint, but a stern inner voice told him to keep the pace steady. His steps quickened, his focus narrowed to that tavern door growing ever closer. 

It swung open before he could even raise his hand to knock. Tempest stood, silhouetted against the gold of the hearth. He rose above them, and Aiden squinted in the sudden light, unable to even look up.

“Get a warm bed, water, medicine.” Tempest snapped. “And for Renatus’s sake, get Marta in here, now.” 

The tavern held a few Lightbringers nursing ales at the counter or finishing up dinner. They froze at Tempest’s snap, some even mumbling an excuse and making their way to their rooms. A human man approached, taller than Aiden himself and even Lirial. He quickly scooped Lirial into his arms without a word to Aiden, hurrying her away to a room. Marta, a pretty young healer with ruddy curls, followed close on his heels. 

Aiden made to follow, but Tempest growled deep in his throat, shooting Aiden a look. Magic crackled around the man’s yellow eyes, making Aiden freeze in his tracks.  

“Stay. You’ll worry her.” he snapped. He disappeared into the room, closing the door firmly behind him. 

    Aiden was frozen, unsure of what to even do. The rest of the Lightbringers were avoiding his gaze. Several had tight, sharp expressions, but kept their mouths shut, or filled with ale. 

    “Why don’t you sit down?” the voice made him turn. The bartender gestured to one of the stools. He realized just then he was shaking, though from what he couldn’t even fathom. He was fine, those gnolls had barely touched him. There was a cut on his cheek, and his knee was bruised where one had shoved him onto it, but it was barely noticeable. Lirial had stepped between his body and the fangs, faster than a breath, making the blows rain down on her shield rather than his back. Her grunts of exertion still rang in his ears, the choked cry as fangs snapped through her defenses and--

    “Aiden.” The bartender’s voice was firmer. 

    “I can’t.” he choked out finally.  “Will she be okay?” 

    The question that left his lips was thin and strained. His voice was too high and reedy, calling the attention of the other rebels in the room, to watch the one who’d promised to take back their kingdom. All eyes on him as he stood, frozen, unable to act or move or even get a string of words out. 

The bartender didn't answer. Aiden felt his stomach tighten. 

    “We didn’t want to come here,” he said numbly. 

    The bartender’s movements stilled, but she didn’t interject. 

    “He’s tearing into her right now.” he said, pointing towards the room where she’d disappeared, “and she’s alone.”

    The room grew quieter, like his words had stolen the last bits of courage from the space. The Lightbringers refused to look at the door, like men hiding their faces from the sun. 

     “But I couldn’t let her die, and this was the closest Lightbringer base.” he felt the words like condemnation on his tongue. He’d done what he had to, and she’d suffer for it. 

    “You made the right decision.” the bartender agreed quietly. Her eyes slid towards the door where Tempest and Lirial had disappeared.. “So go make it again.” 

    Aiden hesitated. “He told me that I’d only make it worse.” 

    The bartender let out an irritated puff of air. “Aiden Bluewood, you will be his king. I don’t care what he said, you shouldn’t have let him forget that.” 

    Aiden felt like she’d strode through water-soaked ashes, kicking up stubborn embers smoldering underneath. Despair quickly kindled to anger, the room narrowing until it was just that door. Nothing else mattered. 

    He heard the bartender behind him murmur to the others, “Clear out. Don’t want to get in his way.” 

    As Aiden opened the door, he realized he didn’t know who exactly she was referring to. 

    The door swung open under his hand, before he could even thing of a plan. 

Tempest’s voice was a snap of cold wind.“If this is how you’ll turn up at my door, child, then you aren’t strong enough to-”

    Silence thudded into the room. Tempest had the forethought to pause, but Aiden couldn’t hide his grimace from what he’d heard. 

    The room was warm and well-lit. Lirial was propped up against pillows, watching with barely-open eyes as Marta looped stitches into her side. She’d shed her piecemeal armor, only wearing a loose, ragged tunic underneath. The bandages around her middle and shoulders looked clean and well-wrapped; Marta must have some sort of healing magic to have made her well so quickly. 

    “I told you to wait outside,” he stated flatly. 

    The man’s amber gaze pinned him like a bolder on his chest, the harsh scoff thudding against him. What was he doing here? He wasn’t a healer, and his presence would just remind Lirial of her duty. She’d heal no quicker with him in the room. 

    “Well?” Tempest’s voice bit out through his silence. 

 Marta winced, a barely perceptible stiffening of her shoulders. Aiden looked to her, then darted to Lirial’s. They were now fully open, staring up at him. Her skin had deepened somewhat to it’s normal cool blue. She didn’t speak, not daring to bring Tempest’s attention back to her. But as their eyes met, she gave a little incline of her head.

She wants me here. 

The realization shoved the weight of Tempest’s irritation away. It was nothing, a summer storm reduced to a breeze. Aiden straightened his shoulders, looking over at the old grayed teacher. 

    “Stay away while one of my followers is injured? That hardly seems responsible.” his voice came out even and measured. 

    “I told you--” 

    “You also told me, months ago, that I was not one of your subordinates. It wouldn’t be proper for a prince.” Aiden cut him off. “We arrived at your door for aid. However, that does not put my shieldmaiden back under your command, nor does it place me subordinate to you. If you wish to be compensated for the services of your healer, it can be arranged. However, you cannot order me away from Lirial’s side unless that is what she requests.” 

    The words tumbled out of him, rigidly calm and matching none of the anger he felt roiling in his chest. It was almost second nature; the authority and pompousness of it all. His Father would have been proud. The realization didn’t make him as sick as he’d thought. `

    The man’s eyes flashed. He didn’t respond for several seconds, clearly weighing his outcomes. 

    “Very well, your Highness.” He said coldly. “Since you’ve got everything sorted out, my healer and I will take my leave.” 

    Marta froze, glancing at the nearly done stitches. Tempest gave her a sharp look and she set it down, quietly heading for the door. Her hands were stained crimson, and the sight made Aiden’s stomach lurch. 

    How bad was it before? How worse will it be with her gone? 

    He didn’t have much time to wonder, Tempest stalking out of the room with Marta on his heels. She shot Lirial an apologetic look, closing the door softly behind her. 

    Aiden stood, silent, staring at the door. He was certain Tempest would swing it back open, demanding them back out into the night. Into the cool, where Lirial wouldn’t have anywhere to rest or heal.

“Well. It could have gone worse.” 

Aiden’s gaze whipped to Lirial. She’d slumped back against her pillows, eyes closed. The pain was still scrawled over her features, but tension had eased from her frame. 

    Aiden let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah?” 

    Her lips quirked a little. “Sure. We’re here and not on the front step, aren’t we?” 

    “I suppose.” Aiden felt the words ring hollow in his own ears. She was trying to make him feel better, surely. She hadn’t before, but she also hadn’t been weakened like this before. People said nice things on their deathbed, right? Was that why she was joking with him? Had he doomed her? 

     “Aiden.” Lirial’s voice brought him back. “Breathe. I’m okay. You know how to stitch up a wound?” 

    She was speaking calmly, evenly. Maybe she wasn’t dying, not yet at least. 

    Aiden washed his hands in the little basin before sitting next to her, carefully taking up the needle and thread. As he started, a sudden realization came over him. 

    “Lirial?” 

    “Mmm?” 

    “What’s the bartender’s name?” 

    “She’s married, Aiden.” Lirial’s voice was gently amused, and Aiden felt his face flush. 

    “Hey! That’s not-! I didn’t mean-” he shook his head at the soft chuckle coming from Lirial’s lips. His head darted up, meeting her eyes to convince her of his innocence. 

She was looking down at him with a soft smirk. Her eyes were…pretty, he realized. He’d looked at her eyes before, but hadn’t realized how interesting their color was. Like the last breath of sunset before night, or the soft petals of those little flowers by the beach. 

    His blush deepened. “You knew I wasn’t interested in her.” his voice was childish in its accusatory tone. 

    “Of course not. But something had to break you out of that gloom.” 

    Aiden was silent, bending down to finish the stitches. “She was nice to me. And I didn’t even ask for her name.” 

    Lirial nodded. “I’m sure she didn’t take it personally. Her name’s Larkin.” 

    “I’ll need to thank her later, then.” 

    They sat in silence for a few minutes as he finished the stitches, tying them off and wrapping up the wound. 

    “Thank you.” Lirial said quietly. “I needed you here.” 

    Aiden laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know about that! I’m sure Marta would have been better at this than I was.” 

    Lirial shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. Tempest would have been here all night if you hadn’t come in. I wouldn’t have been able to rest.” 

    Aiden frowned. “You got hurt…but you were doing your job. It’s my fault we were even in that fight, we probably should have just run.” 

    Lirial shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe the monsters would have caught up, and it wouldn’t have mattered. It doesn’t matter, Tempest wasn’t even mad about that, for all his blustering about it. He was pissed because we went north and started making allies that weren’t him.” 

    Aiden stared at her in mute disbelief. “But that’s what he suggested!” 

    Lirial nodded. “Mm. But he needs us to be reliant on him. He’s got the ear of the future king, after all. It isn’t something he’s keen on losing.” 

    Aiden was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry I took you here. I wish we had another option. If that’s what you want. Is there anything else I can-” 

    “Stay with me?” 

    Aiden blinked, quick. He was unsure of if he even heard her correctly. There was a slight violet tinge to her face, was she getting feverish again?

    “If you leave, he’ll come in again and start harassing me.” she said with a faint laugh. “Climb in. It’s going to be the last time we’ll have a bed for a long time.” 

    Aiden started to object; his Father had always said it was improper to share with a lady. But Lirial wasn’t quite a lady, was she? She was a shieldmaiden, his shieldmaiden. That reminder slackened his shoulders, moving in to sit beside her. 

    It was different, he reminded himself. So when her head rested on his shoulder, he didn’t quietly marvel at the soft blue tint to the hair he’d always thought was black (it was like raven feathers, he realized, if a raven had the night under its wings instead of rainbows). He didn’t feel himself relaxing as her breaths deepened and evened, and he didn’t even think about tucking the blanket up around her broad shoulders, (they really were--strong, too--toned in a way that was almost fascinating to look). 

    He simply sat, watching her. So long as he was there, no one was going to hurt her. Not the monsters they’d fought, or Tempest with his harsh words. 

    Aiden was broken out of his thoughts at the soft creak of the door. Marta was entering, and he had to stop himself from jolting to his feet. Lirial was asleep against him, and he would have hated to startle her awake. 

    Marta was holding plates of food, but she set them down at Aiden’s intense expression. 

    “Marta.” he breathed. “Please. Teach me how to heal, like you do. Even if I can only learn for a little time…I want to know how.” 

    Marta’s eyes moved to look at Lirial, bandaged and bruised. She glanced back at the door, where the very idea of Tempest loomed like a phantom. 

    Marta sat down at the edge of the bed, light as a feather besides him. She opened her palms, a soft amber glow starting to rise from her skin. 

    “We have little time.” she agreed softly. “So let’s begin.”