A/N: Welcome to December. Doesn't it feel like 2017 should just be starting? My, how time flies.
Chapter Twelve: Perhaps the End?
Dorian stood at the castle steps. He was so excited—Chaol and his family were coming to stay for weeks, and they were arriving today!
He was practically counting down the seconds until Chaol was supposed to arrive. Perhaps a little more literally than was probably healthy for an eleven-year-old boy.
He skipped around the courtyard, examining each individual tree as he went. The snow was melting, and it wasn't going to be long before all of the trees were green again. Which unfortunately meant he'd be forced to go outside, but that was alright; it didn't matter right now, because Chaol was coming!
"Morning!" Dorian called to the gardener, who had just gone back to his job after the long winter. The man nodded back, glad to see the young prince in better spirits than he usually was.
"Dorian!" A harsh voice cut through the bitter air.
Dorian's head whipped around at the sound. It was his father. No point in trying to pretend like he hadn't heard the man—they'd already made eye-contact.
Dorian dropped his gaze to the ground hastily, not wanting to upset his father more than he already seemed to be.
He slowly trudged across the ground, doing his best to drag his feet through all the snow and muck he could, stopping every few feet to "try" to wipe it off, doing a spectacular job of making each pause last as long as possible.
He was fairly certain that whatever his father wanted him for, it wasn't good, judging by his tone.
"Hurry up!"
Dorian flinched. He walked a little faster, trying to muster up the courage to prepare for whatever was to come.
When he finally reached the stone steps on which his father was standing, the king grabbed him by the back of the shirt and began to literally drag him inside.
"Father!" Dorian moaned.
"You've wasted far too long out here," his father barked. "I will not have you spend yet another day waiting for that boy to show up. It was excusable when you were eight, nine, even ten, but you are eleven now, and you have duties to attend to. You have no lessons today, but that is no excuse for you to be dilly dallying outside when there are tasks to be done," the king scolded. "I'd be less opposed to it were it summer, but at the moment, it's cold outside. Do you understand how it looks for you to spend all day outside waiting for a boy? You could be helping your mother with Hollin, or practicing swordplay, or in the library learning, or going to the court meeting that was held two hours ago!"
Dorian sighed. "Please?"
"No," his father said, his voice stern and unyielding. "Go inside and put yourself to use. You may greet him when he arrives, but until then, you will behave yourself and attend to your duties. If I hear you've been misbehaving from anyone, you will be punished."
Dorian grimaced. "Fine," he groaned.
He marched away from his father having been hopelessly defeated. He would not get to wait for Chaol, the way he always did.
He shuffled his feet as he went, his guards following in silence.
"Sir?" one asked. "Are you alright? You seemed so happy before."
Dorian shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm not anymore. It's all I've been looking forward to for the last month." He shook his head. "But you probably don't care."
"Of course we do, sir," the same guard spoke. His name was Jeremy. "We all care about you. I've been on your morning detail since you were six. We're not supposed to get attached, but I think we all have. We want you to be happy." His forehead crinkled.
Dorian shook his head. "Okay," he murmured. "I'm fine though. I'll be fine. It's not like he won't arrive; I just can't wait for him."
Jeremy glanced at the other guards. "Alright then. Is there anywhere in particular that you'd like to go? The library, maybe?"
Dorian nodded. "Yeah… yeah, that would be good."
Jeremy pursed his lips. "We'll guard the doors. As far as we know, you're doing informational reading." He winked.
Dorian gave him a weak smile, before turning down the hallway that led to the library.
Dorian, who had been sitting in an empty row of books for the last four and a half hours, was alone with an adventure novel that Chaol had always liked, but Dorian had never bothered to read it. He had not seen his guards since he'd arrived, but he didn't particularly care.
He looked around, unable to keep his attention focused on the book. He'd barely read forty pages since he'd arrived, much less than he usually would have done.
He glanced towards the open windows, soft afternoon light flowing in and bathing the room in a golden-orange hue that was really quite beautiful. He sighed, staring at it. His mind began to go black, everything escaping his thoughts as he kept watching it.
His silent trance was interrupted by Jeremy rushing over to him. "Sir?"
Dorian's head jerked over. "Yeah?"
"Chaol's arrived, Your Highness. Just thought you might want to know."
Dorian vaulted to his feet, dropping his book, and racing out the door. He heard Jeremy give an indignant breath before following, clearly not wanting to have to sprint all the way to the entry hall.
Dorian dashed down hallways, tore through doors, shoved his way through crowds, and finally skidded to a halt in the entrance before a large group of people, one of whom was Chaol.
The two of them stared at each other for a second, as though neither quite knowing what to do.
It was Dorian who made the first move, walking at a normal pace towards Chaol as he tried to calm his breathing.
Finally, he reached his best friend after what seemed like an eternity. He threw his arms around Chaol's neck, who just stood there stiffly for a moment.
Dorian pulled away slightly. "Chaol? Is something wrong?" His momentary worry cut through his sudden joy as he looked at his friend with concern.
Chaol hastily shook his head. "No, no. Nothing's wrong, per se."
"Then what is it?" Dorian asked inquisitively.
"I just… I don't quite know how to say this…"
It sounded a bit like Chaol was trying to break up with him, except for the fact they weren't dating.
"Just spit it out," Dorian said, looking worried.
"I dun'wanna be friends wi'you," Chaol said, his words slurred and spoken a bit too quickly.
That single sentence made Dorian feel like an entire building had been dropped on him.
His world was ending.
It was one thing for Chaol to be a little bit further away from him than he always had been, but this was different. Now they weren't even friends?
This wasn't happening…. It's not real. This is just a dream, Dorian thought.
Why can't I breathe? He wondered. His lungs wouldn't work right.
There! Finally! He got a breath in.
It's just a dream. This isn't real. I'll wake up any second now, he told himself.
"What?" Dorian finally managed to choke out after several minutes of silence.
"I don't want to be your friend anymore," Chaol repeated, slower this time, clearer.
He almost looked like he felt bad about what he was saying, his lips pursed, his eyebrows furrowed, concern written across his face, but in that moment Dorian didn't care.
He turned around and walked slowly away, feeling strangely cold. His whole body felt stiff, and like it wouldn't work properly. He didn't feel like talking to Chaol about this…. No, he didn't want to talk to Chaol.
"Dorian… I'm—"
"You're what?" Dorian cut Chaol off. "Sorry?" he asked, turning around. "Because if you were, you wouldn't have said that."
"But I am, Dorian, I really—"
"No," Dorian whispered. "I don't want to hear it."
The look on his face was enough to kill, and the sound in his voice honestly scared Chaol.
Dorian then turned right back around and kept walking.
He had to get out there…. He couldn't stay… couldn't see Chaol standing there so happy…. Everything was wrong….
One foot in front of the other. Just keep on moving.
He made it all the way up to his tower without really registering much.
His guards said nothing to him, seeming to understand he didn't want to be talked to.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
He slowly lay down in his bed, feeling the way the mattress sunk under his weight.
Yes… everything would be better tomorrow….
He'd lost his best friend.
Not real.
His only friend.
Not real.
The only thing in this world he cared for.
Not real.
He closed his eyes the moment his head hit the pillow, and was out like a light.
He slept hard that night, and didn't dream at all.
When he finally woke the following morning, he at first was gleeful—after all, Chaol was visiting!
But that thought of Chaol brought back everything.
Maybe he didn't mean it, Dorian thought. Maybe I misinterpreted it. He said it, but it was something else he meant. It was just a big misunderstanding.
Try as he might, though, Dorian could not come up with another meaning for "I don't want to be your friend," other than the obvious one, nor could he decipher what Chaol could possibly have meant by saying it other than what it had sounded like.
He got up at 6:30, unable to fall back asleep.
He raced down stairs, hoping to get to speak to Chaol about the whole thing. If they could talk things through, maybe their friendship wouldn't have to end.
This was the first time he'd gone to a court breakfast since Chaol had moved away, Dorian suddenly realized as he stepped into the mess hall.
With a sudden twang of sadness, he remembered all those mornings with Chaol, eating, and laughing, and complaining about having to get up so early just for a decent meal. Then afterwards, running around the room and annoying everyone who wasn't finished eating their breakfast.
After that, they'd always get a stern talking to from their parents about causing mayhem, and they'd nod along and pretend to listen, inserting the occasional, "Oh yes, it won't happen again, we swear!"
He gave a heavy sigh as he walked towards the table he'd always sat at before, plopping down in one of the seats and heaping his plate full of food and tucking in. Most people there were already eating.
A few minutes passed, during which time Dorian spent stuffing his face full of food and not saying a word.
Then, the doors swung open again. Dorian's head swung up from the table, and sure enough, it was Chaol.
Chaol, however, did not seem to take any notice of Dorian. In fact, he was looking everywhere but Dorian.
He sat down at a table with his father, mother, and brother, making no move as to indicate any inclination towards joining Dorian.
Dorian decided it would be best not to interrupt immediately, so he remained seated for a few more minutes. He attempted to finish horking down the rest of his food, but it no longer seemed as appetizing as it had just a few seconds prior.
Finally, he could hold off no longer. He shot to his feet and walked towards the Westfalls.
He sat himself down right in the open seat next to Chaol, and turned to the young boy. "Chaol," he said by manner of greeting.
Chaol straightened his back a little, putting his knife and fork elegantly down on the side of his plate before turning to face Dorian.
"What are you doing here?" the young lord asked in a very matter-of-fact way.
"I wanted to talk to you, of course," Dorian responded, a little hurt. "You know… about what you said."
Chaol groaned a little. "Just leave me alone, alright? I've outgrown you! Accept it already," he snarled.
That stung quite a bit.
Dorian, doing his best not to start crying, got up and hurried out of the dining hall a brisk pace, trying to get out of there before he heard anything else Chaol had to say about him. He knew it would only make him feel worse.
He reached the doors and darted out, moving around the corner and out of sight as soon as possible. His guards weren't with him—in the breakfast hall, they only had need for the grounds guards. He'd told them to come back for him in an hour.
It had only been 25 minutes.
In that moment, however, he was very grateful they weren't there to see him break down the way he did.
He darted around corners, getting as far away as he could, his eyes welling up.
When he finally reached a more isolated section of the palace, he slid down one of the walls, tears in his eyes, glancing up and down the corridor as he did so, glad to see that no one else was there.
A steady stream of water began to flow from his eyes as his entire body shook. Sobs wracked through his entire, slender form, his heart breaking.
He'd lost his best friend. Chaol was truly gone.
He'd been gone before, thousands of kilometers away, but this was so, so different. Now, he was gone.
He stayed like that for a while—sitting there, leaning against the wall, his legs tucked up against to his chest as he sobbed, his eye sockets pressed into his knees, his breath coming in ragged, uneven breaths.
Dorian wasn't sure how long he was there. It was only when his guards showed up that he even realized much time had passed at all.
One of the younger guards, Jeydon, knelt down next to the boy. He wrapped his arms around Dorian, and rocked the boy until he finally stopped crying.
Sniffing, Dorian pulled away, wiping his nose on his sleeve, not caring what anyone thought of the action.
"What happened?" Jeydon asked. He looked so much more worried than the rest of the guards, not as hardened by time. He couldn't have been more than eighteen. "We've been looking for you everywhere," he added as a side note.
Dorian shrugged. "He really means it," he whispered, not bothering to address Jeydon's second comment. "He means what he said. About not wanting to be friends."
He assumed that news had reached the morning shift from his evening detail about what had transpired last night.
Jeydon nodded slightly. "Is there anything we can do, mate?"
Dorian shook his head, standing shakily, and beginning to head to the library, before realizing Chaol might be there. In the end, he decided to go outside for once.
The next few days were spent in a hazy reality that didn't seem quite right.
Dorian wasn't sure why it was, but rather than feeling hurt and upset, he just felt numb. Like nothing mattered anymore.
Even before, even in his darkest moments, he'd still cared at least a little about something. But now that something was gone. It had been ripped from his feeble grasp so carelessly.
He came to the conclusion that he hated Chaol. He hated Chaol for what he'd done. He'd left Dorian. Chaol had to have known how upset Dorian had been since he'd left, and he'd left him.
After the numb feeling passed, he was consumed with hatred and rage. Towards Chaol, for doing this. Towards himself, for not trying harder. Towards the king, for not trying to help. Towards his brother, for stealing his mother away. Towards everything and anything in his life because it all had to have played some part in what had happened.
He spent most of his days locked in his room, drawing, writing, and reading away from prying eyes. That way, he knew that Chaol couldn't come see him—his guards had orders to turn away all of the Westfalls unless the circumstance was dire. And he didn't regret it at all, cutting the Westfalls from his life, but the months during which they were gone made him wonder if he shouldn't have.
But regardless, he didn't repeal his orders.
That is, until a day in early May when Chaol was back in the palace once again.
The traitor had visited only once since what had simply become known as "The Incident" in Dorian's mind, this being his second.
That particular day, Dorian was sitting in his room, contemplating what to do about his life.
He had barely experienced joy in months, and when he did, it was short lived.
He hated everything he did, and he didn't feel like he had anything left to live for; his life was already predetermined for him, and it seemed pretty bleak. The rest of his days were going to be exactly like they were at that moment—boring, useless, pointless, and miserable.
He couldn't talk to anyone about those feelings, though.
His father would tell him what he always did with anything like this—that he needed to grow up and be a man, deal with it himself.
His mother wouldn't be any help; she had her hands full with Hollin and wouldn't be able to do anything for him.
And of course, he couldn't trust any of his guards with it—he didn't really know any of them.
In situations like this, he'd usually turn to Chaol. But Chaol wasn't there for him the way he used to be.
He wasn't there at all.
He was immersed in these depressing thoughts when suddenly, the door was flung wide open. Chaol was standing there, decked out in riding gear and carrying a sack with him. He'd just gotten in, by the looks of it. He hadn't even put his things away yet.
Dorian's guards were all standing behind him, panting.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Jeydon weezed. "He's so fast…"
Dorian glowered. "Not your fault. What about the guards who were supposed to be right outside my door, rather than downstairs at the tower entrance?"
Jeremy shifted uncomfortably. "They… er… wanted a break. I didn't think anything would happen!" Jeremy said. "And besides, they'd never done anything wrong before, so I figured it would be fine!"
Dorian sighed, standing there in silence for a moment or two.
He wasn't sure if he should give Chaol the liberty of being heard out.
Finally, he turned to Chaol with a menacing glare. "And what, might I ask, are you doing here? Don't you have unpacking to do?"
Chaol looked down at his feet. "I just… I…" He broke down sobbing right there in the doorway.
Dorian's guards looked at a loss as to what to do.
Dorian waved a hand at them, dismissing them. "Leave us," he murmured.
They nodded, and scurried out, closing the door behind them.
Dorian walked over to Chaol. "What's wrong?" he asked, whisking the 14-year-old boy's hair from his eyes.
Everything that had happened over the last few months seemed to have been suddenly forgotten by the prince, and all he cared about was his best friend's well being.
"Oh… shh," Dorian said softly as Chaol's crying picked up pace. He wrapped his arms around Chaol, hugging him tightly. "Shh."
They stood like that for what could have been minutes, but also could have been hours.
After a bit, Chaol's crying stopped. "I'm sorry," he got out. "I'm so sorry for everything, Dorian. I was wrong. I was so, so wrong."
Dorian couldn't do anything but nod. He wasn't sure what to say, so all he said was, "Why?"
Chaol shook his head. "I don't know. I was stupid. Back in Anielle, there are some boys who were… not being great to me." He gave a little sniff. "And it was mostly because I was friends with you. And my father said I shouldn't be, he seemed so annoyed with us being friends, so I thought maybe things would be better for everyone if I stopped hanging out with you. My father would like me more, the boys would stop teasing me, and maybe we'd both be able to move on. I thought if I gave it time…. But I was wrong." He looked like he might start crying again.
Dorian sighed, wrapping his arms around Chaol. "It's alright," he whispered.
He wasn't sure why he was forgiving Chaol so easily, but that answer would be determined in time.
Because even if it wasn't apparent then, he wanted to be more than friends with Chaol.
The two boys stood there forever in silence.
Healing.
Chapter Release Date: December 2, 2017
