Final Goodbyes

The day of Duke Baird's burial had finally arrived. Neal woke that morning in his chambers, his feet and hands freezing. Taking one glance outside, he found that snowflakes had begun their gentle descent to the grounds at Queenscove. In the room on his right resided Kel, and in the room on his left resided Yuki. The room above him his mother had shared with his father when the Duke still lived in Queenscove. The guest wing, in which all of the other guests that had come for Duke Baird's burial stayed in, broke off like a dormitory hall just off of the rooms he, his mother, his fiancee, and the woman of his affections stayed in.

When Neal had dressed in snow clothes (it always started to snow in October in Queenscove), he looked out of the window again. He saw Alanna's flaming red hair through one of the windows and couldn't find it in himself to chuckle at Alanna's lack of winter wear. Sir Myles had chosen the room on Alanna's right, Raoul and Buri the room on her left, Gareth the room across the hallway. Kel's parents shared the room next to Gareth. Dom and his family stayed in the rooms underneath the knights on the second floor, and as for the Royal Family...

All Neal needed to do was walk out of his room and knock on the door across from him to find Roald and Shinkokami. At the end of the hallway in which he, Yuki, and Kel stayed in, resided King Jon and Queen Thayet. Kalasin had requested the remaining room on that side of the hallway, snug and in between her brother and his wife and her parents.

Neal trudged down the staircase to the parlor in which, as a reckless child, he had run in and hit his head on the corner of the wall. He ran his hand over the chipped stone as he walked past it, continuing through the parlor and into the Banquet Hall.

"Cook," he called.

"Yes, yer Grace?" Cook replied, appearing in the threshold of the doorway to the kitchen.

Neal frowned. "I...you don't need to address me as 'your Grace' yet..."

"'Course I do," Cook huffed. "Yer father's passed, rest his soul and may the Black God ease 'is passin'. That makes ye head of the estate, don't it?"

"Doesn't it," Neal murmured. His frown deepened. "Does it really? I thought Mother--"

"No disrespect, yer Grace, but ye mother ain't fit to take care of nothin' since she found out 'bout yer father's death. She's failin', Yer Grace. She started failin' since before ye gave word of yer father," Cook sighed. "So, ye see, yer Grace, ye'll jest have to suck it up and face facts. Yer head of the estate. Now, what did ye call me for?"

Neal scratched the back of his head, momentarily forgetting what he had called Cook out for. "Oh. Have you the places for our guests assigned yet?"

"No, yer Grace," Cook answered easily. "Her Grace had 'posta organized it all last Thursd'y. She didn't, I swear it."

"Had she not asked you to do so?" Neal could feel the corners of his mouth drag down even farther.

"No, yer Grace," Cook shrugged helplessly. "I reckon ye could arrange right quickly, if ye'd be willin' to help a poor cook out."

Neal quickly drew a small map of the Banquet Hall. Logically, he sat himself and his mother at the head of the tables. Cook had arranged the tables long ago in a U shape, so the masters and mistresses of the ducal fief could sit at the long horizontal table in the rear while guests could sit along the sides. So Neal sat himself and his mother in the horizontal table in the center. The Royal Family also sat up there with him and his mother as guests of honor. He placed Dom and his aunt, uncle, and the rest of Dom's family on the left table, with Kel and her parents. On the right table he placed the Lioness, Myles, Raoul, Buri, and Gareth. Yuki would sit with Shinkokami if the princess would allow it.

The frail Duchess of Queenscove floated into the Banquet Hall then, looking like a ghost in her plain black gown. The soft brown hair that Neal inherited from her had long since faded to a shimmering silver, her sharp features having grown sharper over the years. She had veiled her eyes with wispy black netting and gloved her slender, steady fingers in black silk.

"Mother," he said solemnly, inclining his head and shoulders in a slight bow. "Good morning."

Neal refused to acknowledge the black cloud of death steadily spreading in his mother's chest. He could sense it from where he stood by the edge of the table forming the bottom of the U, so he knew his mother didn't have much more time to live. That depressed him.

"Neal," she replied quietly, drifting into the dining hall. She took her seat at the head of the table as Neal took a seat next to her. Cook served them both personally.

"Did any of the others eat yet?" he asked Cook quietly.

Cook shook his head. "Not yet. Though, if my ears don't deceive me, I do reckon I hear yer lady guests and the Royal Fam'ly rustlin' about."

Neal nodded. "Thank you."

No sooner had Cook said that did Kel appear in the threshold of the dining hall, clothed entirely in black, as Neal. She wore black trousers and a long-sleeved black shirt with even pristine black boots. She gave Neal a small smile and sat next to him. Cook brought food to Kel shortly afterwards. Soon Queen Thayet and King Jonathan entered the room, sitting across from Neal and Kel. Roald and Shinkokami followed quickly; Yuki took a few more moments to prepare herself and sat on the other side of Kel. Kalasin edged in a few minutes after Yuki, finding a seat on the other side of Shinkokami.

The dining table remained deathly silent except for the occasional, "Pass the butter."

Neal and Kel finished first and excused themselves as the Lioness and Kel's parents entered the dining hall from outside. They passed Raoul and Buri in the hallway, followed by Gareth, Dom, Dom's brother and sister, and finally Neal's aunt and uncle. Myles opted to eat breakfast in his room, saying that the snow would chill his aching bones faster than the others.

Neal walked with Kel up to her room in a somewhat comfortable silence, only sparing the occasional glance at her. They had agreed without words to go outside and inspect the grounds, as the burial ceremony would take place out doors, but Duke Baird's body would lie in the tombs beneath the Queenscove Estate. Neal waited by the door while Kel slipped her warmer clothes on over her black ones and followed her outside.

They had anticipated snow that day and erected something of a large tent over the area where they had planned to hold the ceremony.

"How ironic," Neal said softly, watching the snowflakes drift lazily to the ground or onto the awning and slide off. Kel looked at him and waited for him to continue, following him under the tent. "Father always hated the snow."

Kel joined him in the center of the area--a small garden, she noted--and wrapped her arms gently around his waist. He absently stroked her hair and stared into the white distance. Apparently, it had started snowing long before dawn. "The gods know it's a sad day..."

"Father always loved this garden," he told her abruptly. His voice sounded strained and thick with sadness. He broke away from her and stared at the flowers, weighed down by snow if they didn't sit inside the tent. He turned around and spread his arms, looking at her helplessly. "Do you think I did right by choosing here to hold the ceremony?"

Kel nodded, blinking back tears. She could see Neal on the brink of losing his composure and that made her want to break down as well, but she knew that if she did, he would too. "I think you chose the perfect spot."

He suddenly stepped outside of the shelter of the awning, looking up at the gray clouds. Kel stood just under the edge of the material, watching him as he stood, staring at the sky.

"Your Grace?"

Neal shook himself from his reverie, flinging snow from his hair as he turned to face the priest of the Black God. "Priest Samuel," he greeted the man. He stood four inches over Kel, with dark hair and even darker eyes. He nodded once to Neal and walked over to the center of the tent.

"Your Grace?" Kel wondered. When did they start calling him "your Grace"?

"I had planned to move chairs out here into two rows," Neal had started to explain. "And I had hoped you would stand up there." He motioned to a small platform. "If you would rather stand somewhere else, I can call one of the servants to move the platform."

Priest Samuel just answered monotonously with, "Wherever you wish to place me will suit my needs."

"Good," Neal said. He nodded. "Good."

They stood in eerie quiet after that. Kel shifted awkwardly on her feet, and, finally unable to bear the silence any longer, approached Neal and touched his arm softly. He looked at her, nodded, and looked up at the priest. "Do you need anything? Do you want to come inside and make yourself warm before you do the service?"

Priest Samuel shook his head again. "No. Why warm myself when I'll just cool down again?"

"Good point," Neal murmured. He studied the stoic priest of the Black God and finally offered his arm to Kel. She stared at him like he had lost his mind until he shrugged, dropped the arm, and led her back into the castle.

Everyone, except for Neal's mother and the servants, had gathered in the parlor when Neal and Kel entered thte castle again. Kel took a seat with her parents while Neal stood in the foyer, looking somewhat like a lost puppy. He had a knack for pulling off puppy-related expressions, Kel noted absently. One of the servants meekly approached Neal, calling him "your Grace" loud enough for everyone nearby to turn and look at Neal. He simply shrugged and answered the servant's question, shifting uncomfortably under everyone's gaze.

Roald spoke first. "When did you take over the fief?"

Neal sighed. "Mother..." he began. He seemed to dislike what he had planned to say and sighed again. "Mother doesn't want the responsibilities of running a fief. She can't handle it either. Father had always run Queenscove through a steward, and now...well, I suppose by telling the steward to look to me for answers, I sort of stepped into the role of Duke of Queenscove." He finally stopped looking at the floor and up at everyone staring him. His eyes met Kel's and he seemed to gain more confidence. "I do think that by assuming the role, I can take some of the burden of my father's passing from my mother. By the way, has anyone seen her?"

"She told me to tell you," Alanna said as she brushed past the other guests. She lowered her voice soft enough for only Neal to hear. "She told me to tell you that she didn't wish to witness her husband's burial. She also said to send you to her chambers after I told you what she wanted."

Neal nodded. "Thank you." He looked at Kel, motioned for her to follow him, and walked to the staircase. Within a few moments, Kel had joined him. "Mother doesn't want to come," he confided. Kel sighed and shook her head sadly. "She wants me to go see her. Walk me up to her room?"

"Of course," Kel answered, walking with him up the staircase. As always, she began to automatically count the steps. She had already counted them about five times, but her habit had never broken. She stopped counting when Neal spoke to her, though. He seemed to need all the reassurance he could get.

"I don't know what to expect from her," Neal confessed, watching the stairs continue forlornly upwards. They paused in the spiraling ascension of the third floor corridor as Neal leaned against the wall. He sank to the ground. "I really don't know what to expect. I had hoped she would attend her own husband's burial..."

The words echoed chillingly off of the gray stones of the walls as Kel crouched down in front of him.

"Maybe she feels like you do," she suggested softly. He looked up and met her gaze, holding it and letting the words sink in as soon as they rolled off of her tongue. "She grew old with your father, didn't she? Maybe she doesn't have the strength to face facts."

"She doesn't have you to help her," Neal breathed. His eyes stayed trained on hers. "She doesn't have you..."

Kel hauled Neal to his feet then, taking his mittened hand in hers and leading him up the stairs. They halted in front of the grand chambers, suddenly feeling very small in front of the heavy, carved, oaken door.

Neal gave Kel a brief hug and turned to face the foreboding door. Kel gave him a gentle, encouraging shove, and he knocked on the carved surface, tracing some of the designs. Once he heard his mother's faint beckoning, he spared one last look at Kel, wearing his shamed puppy face, and ducked inside the chambers.

Kel waited impatiently outside the Duchess's rooms and by the time Neal had exited, she had taken to pacing back and forth in the narrow hallway. Neal looked sadder and paler than he had before he had taken the time to hold a conversation with his mother. He just threw his arms around Kel's neck and hugged her to him, his shoulders convulsing with tiny tremors as he held her.

"What'd she say?" Kel wanted to know.

"She says she simply cannot live any longer and stay happy," he murmured, his lips just above her ear. Suddenly, he grew paler, his voice lowering to barely a whisper. Had he not positioned his mouth so close to her ear, she would have never heard him. "She wanted me to kill her." His arms tightened around her. "She asked me to spread the ugly cloud of death looming inside of her, already choking the life from her little by little. She wanted me to kill her..."

"Neal," Kel choked. He had tightened his arms too much! "Let...go..."

Instantly, his arms dropped from her neck, hanging uselessly at his sides. His cheeks flushed shamefully. "Sorry."

"Don't," she told him, eyes hard. "Don't pity yourself. I know that's what you're trying to do. Don't let your mother get you down. Don't pity yourself because everyone down in that parlor pities you enough already." He stared at her, his mouth agape. "You don't need pity." He tilted his head slightly, absorbing her words. "Smile, Neal. Remember all of the good times you had with him, and don't focus on the fact that his time came. Don't focus on the fact that you will one day lose your mother, because we all lose our parents some day."

Neal continued to stare at her, unblinkingly, and suddenly his sullen, murky face broke into a ghost of a smile. "You always know what to say to me." He tugged his mitten from his hand, jamming the thing into his pocket and took Kel's hand in his own. She had removed her mittens while he had conversed with his mother. "Let's go back downstairs."



"Having fun with Kel?" Alanna asked scathingly of Neal as he herded everyone outside for the service a few hours later. Kel had moved to the front of the procession, acting as leader.

Neal looked at Alanna out of the corner of his eye. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Alanna lowered her voice, "do you enjoy forsaking your fiancee for our young Mindelan?"

Neal drew his eyebrows together. "I don't know what you mean. I haven't 'forsaken' Yuki for Kel."

"Oh?" Alanna raised her eyebrows. "I haven't seen you spare more than just a simple glance at her since I arrived here."

He whirled on Alanna, desperately trying to keep his temper in check. "If memory serves, Lady Alanna, I think you've taken a room in the dormitory, not in the castle living chambers. How would you judge whether or not I've 'spared more than a simple glance at her' since you got here?"

Kel noticed then that a ninth of their group had suddenly broken off. She turned to her mother and father, pointed out to the tent, and asked them to finish seating themselves. "Save a seat for Neal and me," she added, then hurried back to find two flaring tempers just inside the castle. "Neal! Lady Alanna!"

Neal's temper immediately cooled. He looked at Alanna and nodded. "I don't think this is either the time nor the place to have this conversation. I'll discuss it with you later." He started off with Kel.

Alanna fumed, following the two younger knights under the tent. Soon, her temper calmed, thoughts of snow and cold and the matter at hand taking precedence.

Neal, rather than sitting down, approached the platform and Priest Samuel. After exchanging brief words, Neal stood at the edge of the raised area, looking at all the face in the chairs on ground level. "I think I speak the truth, the blatant, obvious facts, when I say that I thought today would never come."

He watched heads nod slightly in agreement.

"I think I thought today wouldn't come more than anyone else in this garden. However, I know of someone else who loathes today more than I; and she decided not to come. I must say, I almost didn't attend today myself. I have never seen so many people wear black today as I have for all twenty-five years of my life, and I feel I have to say how depressing I find it. Everyone here knows I hate feeling so helpless and unhappy, but this time I can't do a thing to change what has passed. The only thing I can provide for Father, now that he has passed into the Realm of the Dead, is a proper burial. And on that note, I'd like to hand the reins to Priest Samuel Deathspeaker."

Neal stepped off of the platform and joined Kel in the front row of the seats.



"...and may the Black God ease his passing," Priest Samuel Deathspeaker concluded. "May we have a moment of silence to reflect upon Baird of Queenscove's life?"

Not that anyone had made a noise since Samuel Deathspeaker started speaking, unless they had joined him on the platform to share their memories of the last duke, but the priest stopped speaking. A full minute passed before the priest finally spoke again. "May the Black God let him live forevermore in our hearts."

Priest Samuel Deathspeaker stepped off of the platform and kept walking, his feet making light imprints on the new snow. Neal got up to follow him, but by the time he reached the end of the footprints, the Black God's priest had left in his personal escort back to the City of the Gods.

Breath puffing out of his cold lungs in wispy white clouds, Neal returned to the burial procession. "If any of you wish to say your last goodbyes to my father, follow me."

Kel slipped to the back of the group this time, having learned her lesson from the earlier trek. Neal led them through a series of hallways, deep into the lower catacombs of the Queenscove citadel-like castle. They stopped at a somewhat dark, wide room. Shadows from the torches at the door (two on either side, and two on each wall from there) licked the corners of the tomb, making the room seem smaller than it truly was. A serene sense of musty souls in pleasant death filled the room, and at its center lied the white, ethereal body of Duke Baird.

"Who wants to go first?" Neal asked quietly, his words carrying down the hallway in the confined space.

Alanna and Jonathan made their way to the front of the convoy, stopping in front of Neal and volunteering to go first. They then exchanged heated expressions; Neal recognized the mark of good friends as they did so. Finally, Jon dropped the contest and turned to Neal. His eyes flickered to the son of his former chief healer and landed once more on Alanna, but he faced the twenty-five-year-old the entire time. "Ladies first," he demurred, taking a small step backwards.

Alanna nearly ripped the torch Neal had used to guide them out of her former squire's hand. She realized a moment later what Jon had said, her violet eyes growing wide. "Ladies first? Jonathan of Conte, you know full well..." she trailed off, her wrathful tirade cut short by the smirk tugging at the corners of the king's mouth. "I'm going now."

"Just hurry up, Alanna," Duke Gareth the Younger drawled from his position against the wall. "Others would like to participate in this."

Alanna decidedly hurried up and said her goodbyes to the best healer she had ever worked with. Jonathan followed, then Myles, Gary, Raoul, Roald, Thayet, Kalasin, Kel's parents, Dom, Dom's family, Kel, and finally Neal.

He found necessary to say one sentence to the body perserved by the priests of the Black God:

"See you in the Realm beyond, Father."

And with Raoul's and Dom's help, Neal put the body into the tomb and mounted a plaque on the seal. It said, "Baird of Queenscove. February 24, 386 - September 22, 462."

They stood somberly in the room for a moment longer before Neal and Kel led them back to the Banquet Hall. Neal stopped them at the foyer and made an announcement. "I must stress that this is not a feast. I have decided to throw a wake of sorts for my father." He cleared himself from the doorway, standing to the side with his list from the morning in hand. He pointed out everyone's seat to them, finding his mother had yet to descend from her room. "Gods damn it all," he murmured. He turned to Kel. "Entertain them whilst I whisk off to see what hinders my mother so?"

Kel nodded and watched him leave. She, meanwhile, headed over to the kitchen, spoke briefly with Cook, and took the seat where Neal's mother would have sat, had she been there. The Royal Family talked amongst themselves around her, as did the rest of the guests. She only needed to watch them and make sure no arguments broke out until Neal returned, which she had no problem doing.

Neal sat down with her, solo. He offered her a halfhearted smile, then looked out over the array of guests. Standing, Neal lifted his empty chalice and tapped three times on the glassware. The room quieted and the guests settled in their chairs, looking at Neal raptly.

"I would like to thank you all, friends and family," Neal spoke, his throat dry. "It appears as if my mother has decided to cut herself off from anything concerning my father, so I have to make this announcement. I had originally not wanted a large service for him, but now I regret not having a bigger one than today's. I didn't realize at the time, in my grief-stricken state, that he had touched so many lives and made so many friends, and unfortunately I could only invite the people I knew that truly had made an effort to see past the healer visage." He met each person's eyes at one time or another during his brief speech. "I decided to have this banquet not to celebrate his passing, but to commemorate his life, as I said earlier. I know Cook has prepared quite an impressive meal for us today, so please enjoy." He thrust the chalice into the air, careful to avoid splashing water on the floor. "To my father."

"To Duke Baird," the others echoed, thrusting their own glasses into the air in an almost toast.

Neal took a seat, taking a sip of the water.



Twilight descended upon Queenscove, nestling everything into a sublimely perfect glow. Wolves in the distant forest howled ephemerally at the opalescent full moon as snow drifted languidly from the dreamlike clouds above. The stars danced affably on their dark velvet veranda, heedless of the beseeching darkness in Nealan of Queenscove's heart.

He stood outside, in the middle of one of the piles of snow gathered from the time they removed the tent in his father's garden till Neal stood there. He just...stood, thinking. He could feel the remnants of his mother's life slipping from her each time he saw her. He felt he had no choice but to remain in Queenscove as long as he could.

"Neal?"

He turned to face Yuki. He had hoped he had heard Kel. "Yuki," he replied.

She joined him. "Why aren't you inside?"

"Why aren't you inside?" he countered.

Yuki sighed. "I realized you hadn't gone to your room yet."

I want Kel, he thought selfishly. I want Kel, not Yuki. Yuki just stands there and never says what needs to be said.

"Do you want me to leave?" Yuki asked quietly.

Yes. Insert knife. Twist. Yank out. Stab. Twist again. Neal scowled at the snow. "Not leave. Just go back inside. I can stand it out here because I have my Gift to keep me warm, but you...you just have your clothes."

"I understand," she whispered. Turning on her heel, she stormed back into the castle.

Neal sighed. He didn't intend to act so rudely with Yuki, it just sort of came out a lot of the time. A full fifteen minutes had passed before he realized that someone else had come out to get him this time: Kel.

"You need to come inside," Kel told him. "The snow, albeit new, is very cold. And wet."

Neal looked at her sharply. "Why did you all suddenly decide to come down and nag me to go inside?"

Kel's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me. What do you mean by 'did you all?'"

"You and Yuki aren't in cahoots?" Neal asked skeptically.

She snorted. "No. I didn't even know she came to see you. I just heard a door close and thought it was you, so I knocked on your door and Yuki told me you hadn't come inside yet. Thus I came out here to drag your ass back into the castle."

"Drag my ass, hm?" he quirked an eyebrow at her. Before she knew it, he grabbed her around the waist, spun her around and fell to the ground with her. "I have something to tell you." Despite the cold wetness of the snow, Neal had deposited her on her back, sweeping her hair from her eyes gently as he propped himself up on one arm.

"Oh?" Kel watched him curiously.

He kissed her softly and pulled back just so his lips just barely brushed past hers when he spoke. "I'm i--"

"Kel? Kel! Where did you go? I saw you come out here..."

Kel's eyes went wide. "Damn. Dom."

Neal kissed her quickly and rolled away from her, getting to his feet. He extended a hand to her and helped her rise.

"Over here, Dom."