A/N: This is my first Kel/Wyldon fic, I'm not sure how it's going to turn out, so please don't flame...
Murmurs of consolation, sympathies, but no empathy... it was all the same. Wyldon didn't know what he would do without her. His wife. His love. His crutch. Without his crutch, he felt crippled and fallen.
Vivenne! Oh, Vivenne!
It seemed like the only thing he could do.
So Wyldon escaped into a world that even to this day is mostly a blur.
But, if it hadn't happened, maybe he wouldn't have noticed Kel. Just maybe.
"Lord Wyldon. When have you last eaten?" came a stern voice from above. He tried to say something, but it only came out as a low gurgle. When he finally came to, he stares up at the face of Keladry of Mindelan.
"Kel... this isn't -"
"Lord Wyldon. This is exactly where I need to be. You are in no shape to do anything right now." Thankfully, Kel's face didn't show any emotions. He was sure that he'd see pure pity by the shards of glass and broken whiskey bottles that he'd thrown around in his drunken rage. Vivenne... oh... Don't start crying now! Wyldon screamed to himself.
Oh no... Oh no! He could feel strong hands gripped him from under his arms, heaving him up. As he scrambles to his feet, his toes barely miss a cracked vase, dirt and roses splattered everywhere.
"I've got my self, Lady Keladry... " Wyldon stumbles out of Kel's arms. "How did you get in here anyway?"
"Specific orders, sir."
"Diplomatic one, eh? Been on one to many missions to those Scanran —"
"Wyldon."
"Who sent you any —"
"Wyldon!"
"What? Wha - ow!" He had lazely dropped his sword in the middle of his room. And he happened to step right there.
"By Mithros I'll —" Wyldon didn't finish his sentence, as he slipped into sudden darkness.
A strange rage filled Kel. She had to fight for his respect! She devoted her whole soul and being to become a lady knight! With his speech slurred... he's a slob!
It's like finding out that your idol is really a fake and was just made up so that you specifically could get your hopes high for nothing. Yes, it was like finding out that the Lioness is really a little girl with powerful magic tricking everyone into believing that she's the first lady knight in a century. Yes. A punch in the stomach. And he stepped on his own sword! Ridiculous! "By Misthris why will —" Wyldon starts to say... and that was the last straw for Kel. She threw her fist right into Wyldon's right temple. He was going to pass out anyway, reasoned Kel. Now he doesn't have to experience the pain. She glances down noting the blood gushing out of his left foot. "Neal!"
"He passed out after he stepped on his sword."
"Was the sword upright?"
"No, to the side, but he was extremely clumsy."
"Oh."
Neal glances down at the incapacitated Wyldon. He notes the bashing on Wyldon's right temple.
"And what about this? It isn't enough to hurt him too badly... it seems pretty recent."
"He fell so many times; I think everything terrible happened to him. Physically and mentally."
Neal grunted. He was totally unconvinced. Okay, sometimes it was hard for him to figure out things or whatever, but this... impairment to Wyldon's temple. It was one of those maneuvers to disable an opponent... or when your friend is about to really hurt themselves... what you would do. It's perfect to not hurt them in the long run, but to get them down. Neal pondered even more. I mean, Kel would be the kind of person who would want to take Wyldon out if his misery.
But why would Kel not tell him? She's super humble... or maybe she's super worried that he'd get mad at her for doing that... "
This does not look good. Neal not talking and having that thoughtful expression on his face. Time to snap him out.
"Hey, Neal!"
"Um, uh - what? Sorry, uh... "
"Um, no, oh! It's Wyldon! I think he's coming to."
"Oh! Yes, thank you!"
Fuzzy thoughts pushed through Wyldon's brain. Oh no...
"Wyldon? You here?" Queenscove. Must remind myself later to joust with him later. A grimace appears on Wyldon's mouth.
First comes the pain. Everywhere, the weight of his aching bones from years on horses, the striking pain pulsing in his head, the searing slice of pain exploding from his foot.
Then comes the worst: the memories. Let's not get into that.
After that... the extreme embarrassment. He made a fool of himself... thankfully only in front of Kel. Or was he acting like a fool in front of Queenscove too? Wyldon really couldn't remember, but not like it matters because pain and sudden consciousness overrides pretty much anything.
Cool, hazel eyes stare into his soul. If eyes are the windows to souls, he was sure Kel would see everything about him to his very core. "Go away Queenscove." grunts Wyldon.
"Sorry, no can do. I'm the one with magic here, and unless you want to be incapitated for the rest of your life, I'd sit back."
"That was an order, Queenscove." saying that took all of Wyldon's energy, he settled down into the feather pillows once more.
"Just... everyone... leave me alone for five minutes." heaved Wyldon.
Kel and Neal comply, but maybe he shouldn't have said that.
Now it was only him and his memories.