Peeling the men's clothing off of her tired body, Amade sank gratefully into the warm bath the servants had arranged for her. She ached in hundreds of places, from riding, and from battle. She was not wounded, scratched and bruised only. Gwern had fought beside her, his eyes never leaving her, never further than a few feet away from her. Her thoughts lingered on Gwern, wondering where he was. She had arranged for chambers for him beside Lord Bain's and close to her own. Had he returned from seeing to the men?

She rose out of the bath, dried and donned a nightshirt and a robe over that. She paced her room thinking of Bain's words. "Examine the possibilities" he had said. She did, briefly. Eomer of Rohan sprung to mind and then the three Princes of the South. She had not spoken to them, but perhaps she should have at least a brief conversation, gather an idea.

But a foreign alliance was not strictly necessary. Northmark women could marry at home. Her people would be perhaps more comfortable with a king from their own ranks. But nonetheless, she would examine the possibilities.

Amade knew well the stories of the Queens of old who had governed alone. She had admired them, but found them hard and cold and lonely. She hadn't wanted that fate for herself. While her brothers and father lived, there was no possibility of such a fate. She would have married one of their allies, or noblemen, most likely a man of her choosing if she chose well, and her elder brother would have ruled the Northmark.

Their deaths and her transformation to Queen had been sudden and rough. She knew she was infinitely indebted to Lord Bain and Marshal Gwern. They had supported her, backed her up, helped her in her first year of rule. But she could not carry on like this. She felt tired. She felt stretched out too thin. She had buried deep all her other needs and they were pushing out from the inside to reach the surface.

A knock sounded at her door. Gwern came into the room. He was still in his armour, bloody and dirty.

"My Queen, I have come to see that you are settled," he said, his eyes scanning her figure.

"I am, my lord." Amade nervously tightened her robe. "Have you been shown your rooms?"

He nodded.

"I will have a bath ordered for you," she said.

"Do not trouble yourself," he said. "The servants are few and the wounded need more help. It can wait."

She realized that he as a Marshall would not get the special treatment she had received. And indeed, a bath had been special treatment in times like these.

"They have not taken away my bath," she said nodding towards the tub in the room. "I will ask the maids to refresh it. You may use it, if you wish." She raised her chin and looked him in the eye as calmly as she could.

His eyes flashed, looking between the tub and her face. He took a step back, his head already shaking his refusal.

"I insist!" she said. "Here, I will help you with your armour." She called to the maid who had helped her earlier, and asked briskly that the bath be refreshed and a clean change of clothes brought from her Lord Marshal's room. The maid scurried out, and Amade turned to Gwern.

"Your armour," she said, and her hands reached for the clasps. His hands came over hers at once.

"I cannot allow you, my Queen," he said, but his voice shook. If she didn't know the man's repeatedly tested courage, she would have thought he was afraid.

"Shush, Gwern. Only your armour. I will go keep Lord Bain company after that, so that I may not besmirch your honour." Her attempt to ease his tension didn't have any effect. He stood there, tight as a bow as she peeled off the bloody pieces of metal.

"I can manage from here," he said. She stepped back and raised an eyebrow. His hands fumbled on the clasps of his leather under-armour, clumsy and inefficient. She slapped them away and removed that also. His shirt was matted to his chest. He smelled strongly of horse and sweat and dirt. Strangely, she found that she didn't mind it.

"Sit," she ordered, and he sat in one of the chairs by her bed. She kneeled before him and unclasped his tall boots, and one by one pulled them off his feet. Her movements were economical and quick, inspecting him for wounds and trying not to say anything as she spotted them, caked in blood and angry red.

She stood and saw one such gash on his shoulder behind his neck. She loosened the laces of his shirt and pulled it off his shoulder.

The sight of the wound made her breath hiss. Her mouth drew tight and she turned to look at him with irritation.

"You should have gone to the House of Healing. I should send you there right now."

Surprising her, he caught both her hands in his. He was still seated, while she stood above him. He looked up and with an unguarded smile, his face softened.

"Quit your fussing," he said, his voice low. "You're not rid of me yet!" Amade's heart pounded in her chest, painful and sweet. She smiled and touched his cheek with her palm.

The maid and two men came back with the clothes and buckets of water, and Amade walked away from Gwern. She directed the maid to leave the clothes on a chair beside the bed, and waited until she and the men had left. She walked to the door and turned back to Gwern.

"I will be in Lord Bain's chambers. Get me when you are done." She closed the door softly. She leaned against in and didn't leave right away. She stood there, a minute passing away, then two, until the sound of water splashing came to her through the closed door. With her cheeks flaming, she walked down the dark hall.

Lord Bain did not bring up the subject of marriage again that night. In his diplomatic way, he spoke of pleasanter things, plans for home, things that they could do in the summer. She was grateful to him. He offered her some wine and they sat staring at the fire in the hearth, quiet for some time. Amade felt her eyelids growing heavy. The wine had warmed her. She leaned her head against the armrest of the chair she was sitting in. The fire made her pleasantly drowsy, and the day's frights and exertions came back to her and swept her into a heavy sleep.

When Gwern came, she tried to wake herself, but couldn't. She heard the two men talking quietly, and then Gwern's arms lifted her out of the chair. Her head was heavy and rested on his shoulder, her forehead touching the bare skin of his neck. She inhaled the clean smell of him. When he walked out into the hallway, she shivered, missing the heat of the roaring fire.

"It's cold," she complained.

"Be patient. You'll be warm soon enough," he said, and she could tell he was laughing at her.

He laid her in her bed, helping her out of the outer robe she'd worn over her nightgown, and under the blankets. He put more wood on the fire and then stood by her bed.

"Better?" he asked.

Through her sleepy haze she looked up at him and smiled.

"Sleep well, Amade," he whispered tucking a strand of hair away from her face. The strong lines of his face were softened and gentle in the firelight.

Then he was gone.