9:31 Dragon - Greenfell - The Past
Cullen met with Delilah regularly, each time hoping it would somehow break Amell's hold over him, but he always found himself feeling worse after.
He was eventually sent orders from Knight-Commander Greagoir, informing him he'd be transferred to Kirkwall.
It was a relief.
"I'll miss you," whispered Delilah, sitting beside him in the Chantry.
"Will you?" he asked, surprised. "You shouldn't."
"I've enjoyed the time we spent together," she said. "Will you write?"
"I don't think I'll have time," he lied.
He already felt monstrous enough for the way he used her. It was best that he cut it off when he left.
She sighed, "I suppose it's for the best. Will you at least pray with me before you go?"
Cullen wasn't sure if he wanted to pray, but he agreed. It seemed the least he could do.
He followed Delilah to the aged statue of Andraste, and they both knelt before it, bowing their heads and clasping their hands in front.
And she recited:
" These truths the Maker has revealed to me,
As there is but one world,
One life, one death, there is
But one god, and He is our Maker.
They are sinners, who have given their love
To false gods.
Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.
Foul and corrupt are they
Who have taken His gift
And turned it against His children.
They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.
They shall find no rest in this world
Or beyond."
Cullen's eyes opened, but he remained in his praying position as Delilah continued the verse.
"Foul and corrupt are they, who have taken his gift, and turned it against his children," he whispered.
"What is it?" asked Delilah, pausing to look at him.
"Oh," he said, not realizing he had been loud enough for her to hear. "N-nothing, I was just praying too."
"Of course," she said, "please, take over."
"It's really not necessary—"
"I insist," she smiled.
Cullen felt put on the spot, but he clasped his hands once again, and bowed his head:
"In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know
The peace of the Maker's benediction.
The Light shall lead her safely
Through the paths of this world, and into the next.
For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,
She should see fire and go towards Light.
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword."
Once he started, the words seemed to flow on their own. It was an unconscious prayer, pouring from his heart, out into the world he'd grown to despise so much.
For the first time in months, he truly prayed, and his chest tightened as he did:
"My Maker, know my heart:
Take from me a life of sorrow.
Lift me from a world of pain.
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride."
"So let it be," said Delilah quietly, and she raised a brow at him. "That was heartfelt, Ser Cullen."
"Was it?" he croaked, massaging his throat. "It was the first verse to come to mind."
"Who was it for?"
Who was it for? He wasn't sure.
"My friends," he said, clearing his throat.
Delilah smiled knowingly at him, "I hope whoever she was, she was worthy of you."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"I hope your journey to Kirkwall is safe," she said, before clasping her hands together and resuming her prayer in silence.
Feeling uncomfortable. He left Delilah in the Chantry, and wandered outside.
The village was old, and creaky, and he was glad to leave.
It wasn't until he arrived in Kirkwall that he realized he had prayed for Amell, and that the hate he had for her was only pain at her loss.
9:38 - DRAGON - Highever - The Present
Kena pressed Galel's flowers. She'd preserved many herbs at the Circle, and considering how tattered the wild roses already were there was no point sitting them in water.
She took one torn petal, and held it up to her face in the mirror. The color was nothing like her lips, but it was a nice sentiment. She rolled it up and tucked it into her new locket as a memento of Galel's kind words. It was likely pity, but when it came from Galel it warmed her heart.
Unable to shake the cruel words from her mind, she decided to go to the library and distract herself before dinner.
Upon entering, however, she found it filled with servants setting up new shelves, unpacking numerous boxes of books and Fergus issuing instructions from the far right corner.
"Over there! I want the family history at the center," he commanded, taking a drink from his cup. His eyes darted toward her, and he smiled. "Ah! Come here, I was just about to send for you!"
"What's all this?" she marveled, weaving her way through the mess.
She was trying not to be obvious about how much she leered into the boxes, but she couldn't help herself.
Fergus handed his cup to a servant, "You've inspired me. I'm expanding the library, removing the wall that blocks off Aldous' old study and adding in more shelves."
"I did?" asked Kena, unsure who Aldous was.
"Where would you prefer to sit and read?" he asked.
"Oh, well, I don't know," she tittered.
"Tell me, under the window? By the corners?" he asked.
"I think you should set it up how you like."
"I'm asking you," he pressed. "Tell me or I'll have to pout."
"Okay," she said, rubbing her arm, "I—I suppose under the window? It has better light."
"That's what I was thinking! Glad to see we're on the same page," he winked.
"Very funny," laughed Kena.
"Yes, it was," he agreed. "I'm afraid the library will be inaccessible for a few days after tonight, so best take what you want to your room."
"Thank you for the warning," she said, and she gathered a few novels before escaping the busy library for the quiet of the garden side veranda.
Fergus seemed beside himself with glee reorganizing the library, and it tickled her he could find joy in something so mundane. She sat on the ground, her back pressed against the warm stone wall and she read until it grew too dark to see the words.
After enjoying the orange and pink sunset of the Highever hills, she ventured back inside for dinner, and Fergus came in shortly after.
She stood up and bowed her head to him, as she always did.
"Ptarmigan, I have a request," he said, sitting down and gesturing for her to do the same.
"Name it, Your Lordship."
"It's been a year since I've visited my family's shrine, longer than usual, will you go with me?" he awkwardly twisted his hand around his upper arm. "I'd rather not go alone."
"Oh, of course," she said. "Shall I prepare anything?"
"No, no I'll handle everything. It's not far, we'll go first thing in the morning."
"I'll be ready by the doors," she smiled, which he returned warmly before growing suddenly interested in the food before him.
"Ugh, potatoes again!" he chuckled, shaking his head.
"I like potatoes!" she said, but his request clung to the forefront of her thoughts.
Fergus had kept her at distance, ever since the night the enchantment was broken. It wasn't something she minded, in fact she completely understood. But to visit his family's shrine felt far too personal and out of place.
She couldn't help but wonder why he would request such a thing.
"I'm banning potatoes next week," he declared. His booming voice drawing her gaze back to him.
Kena put the thoughts away, and enjoyed dinner with the usual conversation.
They set off from the east side of the castle on a decently paved road, and Kena helped him carry a basket of flowers.
Fergus objected to taking any horses, preferring to travel the way real Fereldens do. Whatever that meant.
Kena began to feel awkward the longer they walked, he was uncharacteristically quiet.
It was nearly a half hour before they crested the hill toward the grove, and Fergus paused, his hands clenching into fists.
He was breathing hard through his nose, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Teyrn," she said. "Are you okay?"
"My wife didn't want to be shoved into some dusty old crypt," he said, his voice gently breaking the quiet of the grove, "and I didn't want her alone, so… I had them all entombed here."
At the center stood a small, lonely stone structure in the same style as the rest of the castle, but it was open at the front. Five tall, bronze urns emblazoned with the interlocked, leafed-spears of House Cousland stood secured atop individual stone pillars about half her height, and there were yellow and orange wildflowers in bloom all around.
"I'm so sorry," she said, unsure of what else to say. "It's a beautiful place."
"Very," he agreed, and continued forward.
The energy he radiated was dark. Kena could feel his pain, and loneliness puncturing through the veil to her. She could never understand what the loss of one's whole family might feel like, having never known her own, but seeing Fergus like this scared her.
He knelt before the urns, and clasped his hands together. Kena the basket aside, and did the same behind him.
"Beside me," he instructed, turning his head to her.
"Oh, of course," she said.
He turned his head back to his hands, and prayed quietly.
Kena closed her eyes, and prayed the Maker, and the holy Andraste, would rest their souls so that Teyrn Fergus could find peace in his heart.
She prayed for Jowan, and Lily, wherever they might be, and then she prayed for Galel. Hoping that he would find someone worthy of him once they parted. Her heart pinched, and she felt selfish for praying for things that had nothing to do with the Teyrn's family.
Fergus' voice cracked, ever so slightly, and she turned to see his face twisted in silent grief, tears streaming down his face.
It was frightening. He was the strongest man she'd ever met, besides Galel, and though she knew it was foolish, seeing him so vulnerable felt unnatural.
He fell from his knee, and sat flat in front of the shrine. Face buried in his hands as he cried harder than she'd seen anyone cry before.
Unsure what to do, she panicked. Looking back and forth for help that wasn't there. This wasn't something she was good at. It made her feel awkward, and strange seeing others so emotional, which was some cruel joke of the Maker considering how overly emotional she was now.
Get it together idiot! Stupid Kena!
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he grasped it hard, squeezing. His whole body shaking.
It was hard to breathe near so much pain.
Jowan pulled her into hugs when she was upset, or when she cried, so she wrapped her arms around Fergus, and hugged him awkwardly.
He turned toward her, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his face over her shoulder. She pat his back, whispering sorries, and prayers for his loved ones, and he squeezed her so tight it hurt.
And she cried too.
They stayed like that, twisted awkwardly around each other until his sobs grew quiet, and he sniffed, pulling away while wiping his eyes on his arm.
"I'm sorry," he croaked. "I haven't… I hadn't realized…"
"Please don't be sorry," she said, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and handing it to him.
"Maker, I've leaked all over you!" he laughed through the tears, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose.
Kena smiled at him, her lips pursed up in the usual way they did when she felt awkward.
"Well, it happens to the best of us," she said, wiping her own eyes with her palms.
"I didn't mean for you to cry too," he said.
Unexpectedly, he used his thumb to wipe away the tears on her cheek, and for a brief moment his gaze pierced directly into her mind and made her burn.
She was relieved when he returned his attention to the urns.
"I'm sorry I haven't visited," he said, composing himself. "Oriana, my love, and Oren, Mother, Father… and you sly dog," he chuckled, looking at the Urn of an Aedan Cousland. "I won't take so long next time."
"Sly dog?"
"Yes," he said. "Such a ladies man!"
"Thank you for coming, I don't think I could've handled this alone," he said, and he placed his hand on her cheek.
Kena felt awkward, with his hand on her face, but she tried to ignore it.
"Anytime Fergus!" she said.
His hand lingered a moment longer, and then he stood up and approached his wife's urn.
"Oriana," he said quietly. "My love, my only love."
He traced her name with his finger, and began whispering. Kena tried not to listen, and thankfully it was so quiet she couldn't hear much.
The breeze began to pick up, carrying the smells of the ocean and the trees, and she closed her eyes. Taking in the fresh scent. She'd never get sick of being out in the open, amongst the trees, and under the sky.
But the moment was lost when loud flapping just by her head nearly scared the piss out of her. A fat, brown and white bird crashed beside her in a flapping pile of feathers. It's beady black eyes staring them down.
If she hadn't known better, she'd think it was angry at them.
"Hello bird," she said, shaken by the surprise.
Fergus shouted gleefully, and pointed, "A ptarmigan!"
"I thought they were white," said Kena.
"They change colors," he responded, eyes glued to the bird.
And his expression went strange.
The ptarmigan trilled at them, its croaky, duck-like call amusing Kena.
"It sounds… different than I imagined from the stories," she giggled.
It darted between them, and paused, tilting its beady eyes first toward Fergus, and then toward Kena for just a moment before it trilled loudly and ran again, taking off back into the sky.
"You don't see those very often anymore," he said quietly. "I haven't seen one in years."
They watched it go, pumping its wings hard as it disappeared over the trees.
"I read they hate flying, I wonder if it's lost," mused Kena. "Maybe because of the storm."
"Perhaps," said Fergus, and then he turned to her with that same strange expression, "Help me place the flowers, and we should head back."
Kena retrieved the basket of flowers, and held it ready for him as he meticulously placed each one.
Exhausted by the time they returned to the castle, covered in sweat and head aching from crying with the Teyrn, she was grateful he gave her the rest of the day to relax.
Fleeing to her room, she cracked the window open and locked the door so she could risk a bit of magic to cool herself.
She iced her hands and pressed them to her face, wincing at the biting cold.
She could see the path leading up to the castle from her window in this room. Galel would probably be coming back late again, and she wondered if she should leave a candle in the window for him.
Don't be stupid.
She decided against it.
Retrieving the book she'd been reading, she fell onto the bed with it. It was finally getting to the good part. The tormented pirate, Lord Ariano, had taken Lady Bellisima Yvette LeStrait to the Isle of Dragons where he would sacrifice her to save his soul. Only, he was having second thoughts as his love for her flourished unexpectedly.
Kena hoped he would realize he was being a fool, and turn back. What was the point of saving his soul if he'd lose his love in the process? It was all too dramatic, but she had to know how it ended.
"When I first saw you, beautiful in every way, I wanted to hate you," he declared. "But all I felt was love, and I was unworthy!"
"Oh, Lord Ariano!" wailed Lady Bellisima, and Ariano tossed her overboard as his ship was swallowed into the Isle's maw, thus saving her and dooming himself to a life in the Void, wandering alone."
Kena slammed the book shut, and once again found herself utterly depressed by fiction. She wondered if Lord Ariano would have saved the lovely Bellisima had she been plain, or scarred, or anything other than beautiful in every way.
Probably not.
Perhaps she ought to throw herself into a maw, and spare Galel the ridicule of being with her.
Stop being dramatic.
Kena dressed, and against her better judgment, snuck back down to the kitchens. She both hoped to and dreaded hearing more hateful words aimed at her, but her curiosity compelled her to snoop.
The servants were going on about how annoyed they were with the temperature, and how obnoxious the grocer had been, and so Kena left. Partially relieved, and partially disappointed she hadn't heard more.
The library was still being organized, and so she wandered over to the Chapel looking for Tabitha. She was too timid to ask if she had really spoken to the others about her body, but perhaps she could question her in a way that wasn't obvious.
She found Fergus praying instead.
Tip-toeing back out of the Chapel, she was only just down the hall when she heard him call her back.
"Did you need me?" he asked, leaning into the hall. He seemed like an over-excited child, balanced only by his grip on the door frame.
Kena turned to face him, and curtsied, "No, Fergus. I was looking for Tabitha."
"She's at home today," he said quickly. "What did you need?"
"Nothing," she lied. "Just wanted to speak with her."
"Ah," said Fergus, and he looked back in the Chapel for a moment before abandoning it entirely and striding over to her. "I wanted to thank you again, Ptarmigan. I—I very much needed a friend, and you were more than gracious."
"No, please, there's nothing to thank me for," she said awkwardly.
"There is," he insisted, coming to an abrupt stop in front of her. "I've been so consumed with the past, trying to run this Teyrnir alone, and you came along and… well, it's been far easier with you at my side."
"I'm glad to help," she said, blushing slightly.
"I'm a military man, I don't find this governing very easy," he said with a wave of his hand. "I just appreciate you, and your work and… well I wanted to tell you that, clearly."
"And I appreciate everything you've done for me," she said. "I never thought you'd tolerate us, after everything. I'm grateful, very grateful. Galel too."
He smiled, and rubbed the back of his neck. She could see the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead, even though this was the coolest part of the castle.
It was quiet, and awkward for just a moment too long.
"Kena—" he finally said, and it felt odd hearing him say her name after so long, "I—"
"Teyrn Cousland!" came a frantic voice, and one of the guards barreled down the hall. "Someone is here, to see you!"
"Maker's balls," he murmured. "Ptarmigan, perhaps we can talk some more later, I hope," he said quickly, and left her alone in the cool shadows of the Chapel hall.
Kena wrinkled her brow, the whole exchange had been oddly tense, and she felt strange. The insides of her ears tingling.
She roughly rubbed it away.
She forgot her quest for gossip, and made her way to the Teyrn's office to write out some more invitations. She didn't know the first thing about what to order for a ball, so she made sure to check the old records and requisitioned the flowers, food and decorations accordingly.
The work helped drown out her thoughts, and she lost herself in the planning.
Kena managed to finish the Summersday ball invitations just before dinner, and made sure to have the monthly tribute sent to the Knight-Vigilant in Val Royeaux. It was no wonder the templars in Highever did as Fergus asked, and it didn't surprise her that the Templar Order was just as corrupt as everyone else.
She left the Teyrn's study, tuckered out, and returned to her room. She took dinner alone, since the Teyrn didn't seem to need her for the rest of the day, and she felt off since her night with Galel.
She needed to properly process everything.
Galel would probably be coming back late, again, but she wished he would just stay with the Dalish.
He'd lost so much because of her. It felt wrong for him to give up a place amongst his own people to stay by her side.
She suddenly lost her appetite, and covered the plate with a napkin.
Kena looked into the mirror, and pulled at her face. Why did looks have to matter? She wasn't stupid, she knew Galel deserved more than her, but the servant's words still hurt.
She flipped the mirror over and threw Lord Harron's useless cream in the bin, there was no point in trying to fix it.
Falling face first on the bed, she screamed into the heavy comforter. Even Galel hadn't said she was pretty, now that she thought of it. He'd said she was strong, and attractive, but never simply pretty.
What kind of vain moron was she? Why did it matter if she was pretty?
But it did, to her, for some reason she couldn't understand or reason away.
She remembered the tattered rose, and how he said they reminded him of her mouth. She rolled onto her back, and exhaled through her nose, feeling ashamed of her ridiculous thoughts.
Even the man she loved most compared her to something ruined.
The more she thought of it, the more she realized she was likely, always, hideous. In the Circle Tower, when everyone around her happily coupled off in secret, she was left alone. Reading her stupid books and fantasizing about things other people tangibly had.
It was only ever a templar she knew of that supposedly fancied her, and there wasn't even any proof of that she could latch onto.
It was probably just rumors started to make her look stupid. Suck-up Amell, not good enough for another mage, but pathetic enough to attract the most awkward and sweaty templar in the Tower.
She groaned and buried her head under a pillow. Wasn't she too old to be worrying about such nonsense?
Things happened so fast with Galel. One moment they were friends, and then the ritual broke, and they kissed, and she lost her virginity. It was years in the making, but somehow still seemed to be too much, too fast.
Time seemed to stand still in Aeonar. One day bleeding into the next, always the same.
Always painful.
Her time in the prison was a series of long, terrible moments stitched together with quiet, and darkness. She'd come to enjoy the dark. It meant she was left alone, and safe.
How can you think of Aeonar in a good way, you stupid girl?
Was she destined to be trapped forever by what happened in that wretched place? If only she could forget. Maybe she'd be able to feel normal then.
With nothing to endure, and nothing to struggle against, she was lost.
Without purpose.
Galel couldn't possibly love her, not really. Perhaps she was convenient. A filthy dog that had clung to his side for so long he'd been forced to develop an attachment.
She didn't want pity, or to be settled for. She didn't think she was worthy of much, but she'd rather be alone than be his consolation prize.
The only person who seemed to truly need her was Fergus.
He was alone too, and she was his scribe. That meant something didn't it? Maybe that was all she was good for. If devoting herself to the service of a good man was her lot in life, she could be content with that.
She had to be.
How had she thought she deserved a man like Galel at all? The idea made her cringe. Why had he allowed it to happen? If only she'd never kissed him. He might still have his arm, and he'd certainly be happy with someone else.
Someone worthy of him.
He deserved so much better than stupid Kena Amell.
The thought shattered her heart into a thousand pieces, and she cried.
If only I was better.
Outskirts of Highever - Dalish Encampment
Keeper Eralin accepted the gifts, and extended an invitation to him again.
But he declined.
"Da'len," she said, "if you change your mind, we're heading north, across the sea."
"Dar'eth Shiral, Keeper," he said.
"Galel," she said and squeezed his hands. "I hope your friend is worthy of you."
"She is," he blurted out, blushing like an idiot boy back from his first hunt.
"Ah," she said knowingly. "Ethas na, Galel."
Galel departed not long after, and felt relieved when he was alone again. He'd grown uncomfortable with his own people.
The realization saddened him. Too long amongst shemlan had altered his perceptions, and her seen to much of the world to be content in a clan again.
Not that he ever really was content before.
Perhaps that was why he found himself so endeared to Kena. She was an outsider too. If she would leave with him, he knew they could be happy on their own.
Away from the shemlen and the Dalish.
He felt it when he was with her. When they kissed it felt like an emptiness inside him was filled, and she grasped onto him just as desperately. As if her life depended on him, and he reveled in it.
Never had he been with a woman that wanted him so intensely.
He rushed back to her, dropping the horse and wagon off by the stables.
He was half tempted to climb into her window and bypass the castle guard altogether, but he thought better of it and entered like a normal person should.
Making a beeline for her room, he focused singularly on seeing her again. Basking in the love she showered him with was all he wanted now, food and water be damned.
He knocked on her door, and was met with silence.
Surely she was waiting for him, she always was. Maybe she'd dozed off.
He knocked again, louder, and still there was no response.
"Kena?" he called through the door. "Vhenan, are you awake?"
He tried the handle, but it was locked, and he was growing frustrated.
He rapt on the door, and finally heard shuffling. It cracked, ever so slightly, open.
"Galel?" she graveled, rubbing her swollen eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked, her appearance filling him with dread.
"Yes, just tired," she muttered, not meeting his gaze.
Pushing his way inside, she returned to the bed, falling back to it.
He closed the door, and pulled off his cloak, sitting at the foot of the bed, "You don't look alright."
"I said I'm fine," she snapped, rolling over so her back was to him. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your room? It's late."
"I missed you," he said, and placed a hand on her hip.
She twisted away, and it felt like a wasp's sting punctured his chest.
"What's going on? You were acting strange when I left, and now you're mad at me? What did I do?" he asked.
"Nothing," she sighed. "I'm just not feeling well. I'm glad you're back safe," she sighed again and went quiet.
He crawled over her to see her face, and she rolled away from him.
"Stop it Kena," he said. "We're too old for games like this."
"It's not a game!" she yelled, jumping out of the bed. "I'm tired, please go!"
He sat in the bed, hand on his knee and scowled, "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."
"I said I'm tired, that's what's wrong," she retorted, but she was refusing to meet his eyes.
Lying.
He climbed off the bed and grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him, "Tell me now," he commanded.
She shoved his hand away, and her chin quivered, "This was a mistake."
"Excuse me?"
"I should have never—we should have never—Maker, I am a fool," she blubbered, burying her face in her hands.
Galel stood, frozen in place. What was happening right now? One moment his heart was full with thoughts of her, and now he was suddenly empty. As if he'd been torn open and hollowed out.
"You're finished with me?" he said in disbelief. "I don't understand."
"You deserve better! This was a bad idea from the beginning, and it makes no sense," she rambled, her eyes filling with tears and her voice cracking. "I mean, look at me? Can you imagine how the others must be laughing! Be real, Galel, we don't match at all!"
"I don't care what the others think, has someone said something to you?" he asked. "Why are you talking about this?"
"You should have gone with the Dalish," she deflected.
"I don't want to go with the Dalish, and I don't want anything better, whatever that means. There is no one better—"
"Don't lie to me," she whimpered. "You've never even said you love me, or that you think I'm pretty, or—"
"I've never said I love you?"
Hadn't he said it? He called her vhenan, and thought of how much he loved her daily.
Yet he couldn't remember ever saying it in such a crude, shemlen way. He was taught actions spoke louder than words, but it was clear now his actions had been lacking.
"I do love you," he said. "And I think you're more beautiful than any woman I've ever met, in a way so uniquely—"
"Stop it!" she yelled, and covered her ears, "I don't need your pity! I don't want to be different!"
"Vhenan!" he yelled, clutching his chest. "What do you want from me? You don't believe a word I say? I'll tell you anything, what do you want to hear?"
"I don't want you to say anything—I can't explain this," she blustered, her voice cracking with panicked tears.
She made no sense, and he was suddenly unsteady.
"My heart," he said, reaching for her, but she shoved him away.
"Stop, I can't hear it anymore!" she yelled. "You need to go find a nice elven woman and forget me!"
He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words to argue. He tried to back track, remember what had gone wrong, but couldn't. None of it connected. One moment he thought he'd finally had her, and now…
"I don't understand," he breathed out, his voice cracking.
"I don't either," she whimpered. "I'm so sorry Galel. I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore."
She pushed him toward the door, grabbing his cloak and shoving it at his chest, "Please, just forget this ever happened."
"How can I?!" he yelled, trying to keep the door open with his shoulder.
"Please go!" she screamed, and she threw her body against it, shutting him out.
He'd been rejected before. Kicked out of rooms in the dead of night after the women he slept with were done with him. He'd been spat on, cursed and even hit a few times when things got ugly.
But this? It tore him in two. Hurt in a way no woman had ever hurt him before.
Losing all sense, he kicked down the door.
"Galel!" she yelled, stumbling back.
"No," he growled, "no you—you don't get to push me away because of your stupid insecurities!"
"Stupid?" she repeated, shooting to her feet, eyes filled with tears, "Now that's the first thing you've said I believe!"
He grit his teeth.
"Stop twisting my words against me—"
"No, tell me more about my stupid insecurities!" she spat. "Tell me about how fucked up I am!"
"Vhenan!" he roared. "You don't mean any of this!"
"I do!" she shrieked. "I never should have let you in, I never should have—Maker I'm stupid! So stupid!"
"Stop it!" he yelled, "I'm a one armed elf, with no title, or clan or wealth of my own and you think I deserve better?"
"You lost your arm because of me!" she cried, slamming her hands over her ears, "I can't look at you without feeling like the worst person in the world!"
His throat tightened.
"It wasn't your fault," he whispered. "Is that why—"
"No!" she snapped. "It's not the only reason why. I'm a shem. A stupid, ugly shem, and you're settling for me! That's why you wanted me right? Because I was just there?!"
"W-what?" he sputtered. "Who put these ideas in your head!"
"Does it matter?!" she exclaimed. "They aren't wrong, I know my place, and what I deserve, and… I can't look at you without being reminded that I've grasped for things far beyond my station. I'm done being a laughingstock. I'm done being the fool."
"So this is all about you?" he asked, incredulously. "My feelings, my…" he swallowed hard. "Do my feelings for you mean nothing? I've given up much for you."
Her chin quivered, and she looked away, "I know. Which is why I won't ask for more. You've been kind, more than kind, but it's time for you to move on."
He approached her, and tried to touch her, but she pushed his hand away.
"I only want you," he whispered.
"Stop it," she warned. "Please go."
"I can't," he said. "I can't until I understand."
"What is going on here?"
Teyrn Fergus stood at the broken door, his hair well brushed and his robe pressed, "What's happened?"
"I'm sorry Teyrn," said Kena, wiping her eyes in shame.
"What are you doing here this late?" Fergus barked, his gaze fastened strictly to Galel.
"This is none of your concern, my Lord. Now, I need to speak with—"
"He was just leaving," she said over him. "We're done talking."
"No—"
"I believe the lady has said she's done," said Teyrn Fergus sternly. "Master Galel."
Galel's hand balled into a fist, intended for the Teyrn's face.
But he hesitated.
Should he risk himself again? For a woman content to use him and throw him away at her whim?
As much as he wanted her, loved her, she was unpredictable.
He looked over at her for support, a last chance that what they had was worth saving, but she refused to look back at him.
"Vhenan," he said. "Is this really what you want?"
She closed her eyes and nodded.
His heart broke in a way it had never been broken before.
How odd.
"Master Galel, perhaps it's best if you return to your quarters," said the Teyrn. His gravelly, grating voice drawing his attention.
"I think you're right," said Galel, his voice flat.
He bowed to Teyrn Fergus and stormed to his room, throwing the few possessions he had in his pack and grabbing the staff from under his bed.
He really was a fool for taking up with her. He should have stopped it at the first kiss, remained the protector and friend. Losing her entirely now was painful, more than he'd ever imagined it would be.
What was I thinking?
He wasn't thinking. He never did think. There was a woman he wanted and his half-hearted attempts at resisting were forgotten the moment she kissed him. She was far too young for him, still broken, and he'd barreled head first down the falls with her and look where it landed him?
It was cruel, how fate toyed with his emotions, how Kena was treated, but that was life.
Fear and circumstance drew them together, and now the end had come. As it always did for him.
He'd gotten good at accepting he'd be alone forever, and Kena would be better off too. What young woman should be saddled with a partial elf? It was wrong. Everything was wrong.
Galel left the castle that same night, with nothing more than what he came in with.
And once he could see Castle Cousland no longer, he fell to his knees and wept.