Disclaimer: Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.
A/N: ((sighs)) Ye Gods, the past couple of weeks had to be of the hardest, most exhausting of my life. So yeah, I've always been unhealthily pampered and so my tolerance level is not very high, but - gah! It was tiring, it was painful, it was absolutely awful. Not to mention that half the time I was sick.
I'm telling you, someone out there has it in for me! No, really…
Either way, I'm very sorry for the lack of updates, but I have warned you.
So without further ado, this is the promised update, in which more old characters appear.
Enjoy!
Chapter 3 - The Squire
"Knighthood had always been a complicated business in the Muggle world. Their system for receiving that sought-after position is very complex and not many are fortunate enough to go through the whole process and be initiated Knight after all their troubles. Not so in the Wizarding World of the British Isles.
"The Order of the Knights of the Phoenix is a military body. Its sole purpose is to provide protection for the magic people of the Isles. While being accepted to its ranks demands fortitude and immense loyalty for all the people of magic, be they human or creature, it is not as complicated to become a Knight of the Phoenix.
"The trail of the Knight is very short, if considered in stages, but each stage may take either a very short time or a very long one - it depends on the type of person to go through the process. Some people can be initiated full Knight a year into their training. Others can take as much as ten years until they receive the title.
"Upon being accepted as Knight (after having been tested in several fields, including skills with weapons, stamina, determination and more), you begin the first stage of training, which is the trial period, in which one's commanders see if one really has it in him to become a true Knight. The longest trial period ever recorded was of six months. Most hopefuls spend only a month or so in that stage, after which they either leave the Order or continue to the next stage.
"The second stage is that of the Knight-in-Training. In that stage one learns the rudimentary rules of being a Knight. This is the stage that varies most in times. The longest period ever recorded for a Knight-in-Training was that of twenty years. The man only completed said stage in death. One of the shortest periods of training ever recorded was that of a year, though rumours say that once there was one Knight who was initiated after only eight months. We have no way to verify the truth in that.
"The last stage is that of a full Knight and lasts the rest of one's life. Even if one left the Order, one is still considered a Knight, unless one left through dishonour.
"The rarest of stages, only invoked once a century or so, is that of a Squire. In the Muggle world, the Squire is a required stage in becoming a Knight. In the wizarding world it is not so. It is more of a stage of honour, making someone part of the Order before they are old enough to properly join. In the entire history of the Order, there were only four Squires ever recorded…"
- The Legacy of the Phoenix, A Study of History (Of Knighthood); Ryan Ravenclaw
For the first time in six months Gawain set his eyes on the orderly rows of the Order's main encampment. Feeling like a man dying of thirst coming to an oasis in the middle of a desert, he sighed lustily as he rode into camp, past the ever-vigilant guards and the invisible watchers.
The long months in the north were hard on him - he would be the first to admit it. He was inexperienced in command, and some of the Knights recognized it easily enough, no matter how hard he tried to avoid looking it. Some of them were sympathetic and went out of their way to help him in those trying, first couple of months. Others however… were less so. They were petty, inconsiderate men that were out for his blood, looking for every loophole and every inconsistency in his commands, making use of them to ridicule him and make his life harder.
Once he had established himself enough, he had them all disciplined. They learned to never cross him again.
The Wing Division was a very exhausted one upon his arrival to the Scottish border. They were only twenty fighting men, along with several craftsmen and other helpers, tired and running short of luck and patience. He had to change it, and change it he had. Within two months the Knights of the Wing were motivated once more, invigorated and all quite happy to have a young man not even into his twenties as their commander. He had proved himself to them with his dedication and hard work, not to mention his intolerance for any nonsense.
Now, six months after his hasty decision to take the command no matter what, he felt so much older and capable. They had completely decimated the group of Muggles who were out for wizarding blood, and were once again fit and ready to do battle, no longer weary and defeated. Finding that everyone in his Wing respected him and accepted his word as law made him feel worthy. He even thought that as he rode through the main encampment people he knew since young regarded him differently.
"Gawain!" a booming voice hailed him as he went past the armoury, where newly initiated Knights forged their own weapons, making them part of their bodies and souls, sealing their status as Knights.
"Sir Seamus!" he greeted the burly swordsmith who had used to chastise him for his enthusiasm with the hammer - usually with the back of his hand. "Any new, unmanageable recruits you need me to handle for you?"
Seamus made a derisive sound in the back of his throat, his broad, sweat-covered face showing that he did not mean it in an unaffectionate way. "You'd sooner send 'em for a swim in the lake than discipline 'em, Gawain."
"That was the old me, Seamus," Gawain said, somewhat self-mockingly, knowing that he probably would have before his spell in the north. "I'm a changed man these days."
Seamus' expression softened unexpectedly, making it a gruesome effect with the long scar that made the left side of his mouth drop downwards. "Yes, I heard all about your exploits in the north, my boy. I hear you make a fine commander. I did tell you that, didn't I?"
"Yes," Gawain agreed, remembering all the times the swordsmith had told him that one day he would make a great commander. "You did, didn't you?" Then he sighed. "Those were the good days, were they not?"
"That they were, my boy. That they were… You're needed at the Lord's tent immediately, boy," Seamus said, suddenly changing tones. "All your old haunts've been warned to summon you as soon as you arrive."
"Oh? Is everything all right?"
"Nothing's wrong," the burly man said casually, but there was a certain amount of shiftiness in his eyes as he said that, not quite meeting Gawain's eyes. "I reckon the Lord has a special request to ask of you, is all."
Gawain had expected as much when he received the orders to leave his second-in-command in charge and hurry back south. He had his misgivings about leaving Sir Jowan alone, responsible for the lives of so many men, but the man was reliable, if a little inexperienced, and it was not as though he had any choice in the matter. If the Lord Commander called, one had to obey.
He did not like the tone in which Seamus told him that the Lord Commander may have a special request. While Gawain loved and trusted his commander above anyone else, he knew that such urgent summons could say only one thing. He was not going to like the task the Lord Commander would give him. He had no doubt about that.
Sighing, he nodded his farewell to his old teacher and friend, and turned his horse in the general direction of the center of camp and the Lord Commander's tent.
If on his way to the armoury Gawain thought everyone looked at him with newfound respect, now he deemed that everyone gave him pitying, if not amused looks. There was something going on that was not quite right, and he was starting to dread the duty he knew would soon be dropped upon his shoulders. Suddenly he wished he was back north with his men, chasing murderous Muggles away from wizarding homes.
All too soon he was in front of the large tent that was the home of the Lord Commander of the Order of the Knights of the Phoenix. It was a huge thing, erected atop a high hill, overlooking the entire camp. It was made of simple, stout fabrics, and Gawain knew from experience that inside it was made as comfortable as possible, with rough carpets on the ground to isolate the cold and plain furniture that could be packed up and moved quickly.
Dismounting, he handed the reins to a Knight-in-Training that was waiting outside for him. There were no words exchanged, but Gawain got the impression that the man felt nothing but sympathy for him and that he was sorry that he could not warn him of what was to come. Steeling himself, he made sure his clothes were in the best shape they could be after such a long journey, took a deep breath and entered the tent.
Inside a brazier flared as a gust of wind entered with him to the enclosed space. It was warm inside and the homey interior made Gawain relax somewhat. Next to a small table by the flaming brazier, sat the Lord Commander, his powerful shoulders hunched as he squinted at some paper in front of him, his thinning mane of graying hair pushed back, glowing red in the light of the fire.
The Lord Commander did not look up as Gawain entered without announcing himself, but a small smile quirked his lips and he said "Not your polite self today, Gawain? By now you should have coughed, or made yourself known by some way. Is everything all right?"
"What is it about, my lord?" Gawain asked with a sigh. "I've been through camp to get here, and everyone seems to either pity me or be gleeful, and no one would tell me why it is I have been summoned. I'm very tired and it's been a long journey. Can we please get down to business so I can clean up, rest a little and be myself again?"
The Lord Commander raised his head, and Gawain could see that his eyes twinkled. Something made the head of the Order very much amused, and Gawain knew that not a lot of things could make the old man betray his feelings. The man was about to burst out laughing.
"Very well, my boy," he said, smiling. "It is fair that I will tell you, as it seems the whole Order already knows. I have summoned you for a very important reason, do you know that?"
"I surmised as much, since when you sent me up north you were rather desperate - with all due respect, my lord - and it would have been redundant to call me back unless there was something even more important for me to do down here."
"Very good, Gawain. I knew I did not make a mistake when I chose you for this. Now, I assume you remember the last time you were here?"
"Yes, my lord. It was when you gave me command, right after my father passed away," Gawain said, stifling the pang of pain he felt each time his father was mentioned. It was still hard to believe that he was Lord Gryffindor.
"That is true. And, by chance, do you remember anything about a certain boy I said was my squire?"
"A very clumsy boy, you said," he concurred. "You said you named him squire because of some tradition."
The Lord Commander looked pleased that Gawain remembered. "His name is Ryan Ravenclaw, Gawain," the old man said. "He is a very promising young lad, and I have a great future in store for him."
Surprised, Gawain looked at his commander's face, searching for an answer. "Your heir?"
"If he amounts to my expectations - yes," the old man said, agreeing.
"Then what has this to do with me?"
"Gawain," the man said sternly. "It is a well known fact among the Knights that were you not a Lord of the Council then you would most certainly have received the leadership after me. As it is against the Rules, you cannot head the Order, but you are still one of my best Knights. I am an old man, my boy, and I do not have the agility I once had. I want you to take over Ryan's martial education. He still is my squire, but I delegate his training to you."
Gawain just sat there, not saying a word. He was a commander of his own force, up in the north. He was respected and considered very talented. And there he was, sitting in front of his superior, hearing that he was hauled all the way south to be the trainer of a boy who, according to said superior, was extremely clumsy - so much, in fact, that the Lord Commander himself did not want to train him.
He sighed.
"Where is he?"
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At first sight, Gawain decided that the Lord Commander was laughing at him. He could not believe that this was the future commander of the Order. The young boy called Ryan Ravenclaw, who was standing before him with a smile splitting his thin face from ear to ear, was a gangly child of eleven with scratched knees, a heavily bruised face, skinned arms and knotted, long auburn hair. He was skinny, all knees and elbows, and from the short time he had spent in Gawain's company - very clumsy. It was not difficult to deduce where the bruising had come from after watching the boy's feet tangling in a pile of hunting spears and then falling face-first into a nearby pile of helmets.
The boy seemed to not care at all, however, and just picked himself up, shortly examined his newly skinned knee, and then looked up at Gawain, grinning.
"Sorry 'bout that, Sir Gawain," he said in a not very apologetic tone, his hazel eyes twinkling much in the same way as the Lord Commander's had only minutes before.
"It's Lord Gryffindor, Ryan," a voice interrupted Gawain's reply. "Show respect to a Lord of the Council."
"Rhys!" Gawain said, waving aside Ryan's attempt to apologize again and turning to face the older man to whom he owed so much. "Long time no see! And don't you scare the poor boy. I don't mind him not calling me Lord Gryffindor. It's a cumbersome title and I haven't lugged it along long enough to respond to it. Call me Gawain, Ryan. Drop the Sir. Now go and bring us practice swords. I will meet you on the training field shortly."
Watching the boy stumble away cheerfully, Rhys said "I see the old man delegated Ryan to you."
"Yes," Gawain replied, and, catching the man's amusement, burst. "I knew it! He was making fun of me! I can see it in your face! What is wrong with the boy? Is he so fumble-footed that no one else would train him?"
Rhys laughed. "It is true that no one else would take him, and you can see how clumsy he is for yourself, but it's not because of that, that no one agrees to work with him anymore. A friendly advice, Gawain, since I don't want to see anything happen to you: Don't underestimate him just because he's a clumsy little boy."
Snorting, Gawain waved that warning off and left to meet his young charge, who was dragging two practice swords in the mud.
"I didn't know you were a Lord!" Ryan said excitedly upon seeing him, almost keeling over as he took a wrong step.
"Well, my father died several months ago, and as his only heir, I had little choice but take the title," he replied sadly.
"Oh." Ryan looked ashamed for asking for a while. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. My father died three years ago," he suddenly volunteered, looking strangely proud. "He died in the Southern Lands - the Muggles overpowered them. But since there's always been a Ravenclaw in the Order at every given time, Lord Commander Dugald told my mother he would take me as squire until I am old enough to become a Knight."
"There's always been a Ravenclaw in the Order?" Gawain repeated, curious. He never heard of that before. Of course, three years ago he was not yet a Knight, and so it was not surprising that he had not heard of the boy's father.
Ryan nodded enthusiastically, almost tripping on his own feet yet again. "Always. Ever since the Order was first founded. I can trace my line that far into the past and more," he bragged, grinning widely and promptly stubbing his toe on a loose stone, causing himself to fall face-first into the ground once more.
Sighing, Gawain offered the boy his hand and pulled him back to his feet. It was going to be a long day.
Finally, the two reached the training field. Gawain carefully removed his sword belt and his cloak, folded the fabric and draped it over the perimeter fence, hanging the belt beside it. Thus prepared, he took one of the practice swords from Ryan and walked to the center of the currently empty field.
"Are you ready?" he asked the boy who cheerfully nodded, raising the weapon. "Then show me what you've got."
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"Had fun being embarrassed, Gawain?"
A ruckus of laughter greeted the sweaty, exhausted Gawain as he entered the drinking hall. There were close to thirty Knights there, not to mention many of the artisans whose job was to create all those little things Knights needed in order to live through the day.
"Embarrassed? Why should I be embarrassed?"
"Being defeated by an eleven-year-old would do that to you!"
"He did not defeat me," he said quietly.
This silenced the roaring laughter.
"Though I admit," he said, wearily lowering his beaten body onto a chair, "that had Rhys not warned me not to underestimate him I would most likely have been beaten. I now see why none of you wanted to work with him. He is a devil with a sword."
At first, he thought to only test the boy's abilities. His guard was lax and he honestly thought that all the boy would do would be to hack at him ineffectually a few times with the sword and that he would see little to no skill at all.
That was when Ryan attacked him and made him lose his footing.
He had been sorely surprised.
It turned out that while he was clumsy and completely unstable on his feet on normal occasions, once Ryan Ravenclaw held a weapon in his hands, he transformed entirely. There was some magic in work there, Gawain decided. There was no natural explanation for the transformation that had taken place in front of his very eyes. His new charge was very much dangerous with a sword, almost disarming Gawain several times before he managed to realize what exactly was going on.
While he was still sore with the Lord Commander's decision to throw the education of the boy on him, he found that he had a new sort of respect for the child. While Ryan still needed to hone his skills and develop his style, he certainly had the talent and control needed to be a good Knight. The sheer ferocity of his attacks, as blunt as they were, made Gawain see that.
He knew now that he would take the Lord Commander's orders with his whole heart. He knew that making Ryan a Knight would be the greatest challenge of his life, and he was determined not to fail in it.
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The sound of a pile of metal crashing down somewhere outside his tent was Gawain's wake up call. Hearing it, he sat bolt upright, clutching at his sword in alarm. Sudden noises when none should be heard in a military camp are not a good thing. A moment later, upon realizing what exactly it was he was hearing, he leaned back and groaned, covering his face with one arm, letting go of his sword, counting under his breath.
He just reached three when out came the obligatory "Sorrrrrrrrrry…"
Sighing, thinking it was unfair that on his morning off he had to get up early all the same, he straightened again and rolled off his bed, yawning and stretching. Then, sticking his head through the flap, he yelled "Ryan! Get your scrawny little behind here!"
"Morning, Gawain!" the all-too-cheerful boy came bounding into view, the inevitable, new, darkening shadow of a bruise on his tanned cheek, his long, auburn hair full of dirt from his tumble on the ground.
"Ryan," Gawain said in a low, dangerous voice, "what did I tell you about running?"
"Only when absolutely necessary, and when I am concerned, then never," the boy said brightly, quoting him almost word for word, not at all disturbed by his menacing tone.
"And what did you just do?"
"I… ran?" he asked dubiously, looking at him with the question in his eyes.
"Yes, you did," Gawain nodded the affirmative. "And do you know how I knew this, when I've been soundly asleep as I still should be, this being my morning off?"
"Umm… no?"
"By the force of the sound, Ryan. There is only that much noise one can make when walking into a pile of helmets."
"Oh, that's clever, Gawain!" Ryan said excitedly, making Gawain narrow his eyes. Had it been anyone else saying that, he would have felt slighted and disciplined the offender, but it was virtually impossible to feel so with Ryan's bright smile and enthusiasm turned up to him. Sighing, he let his irritation drop.
"Why are you up at this hour, Ryan?" he asked in defeat. "You're not supposed to be up before sunrise. The Old Man is quite adamant about that, and you know it well."
"I woke up," the boy said simply, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face.
"You woke up," Gawain repeated slowly. "And pray tell, my young friend. What were you about to do when you so unceremoniously woke me up?"
"I don't know," Ryan shrugged, as though it explained everything.
In the short while he grew to know the young boy, Gawain learned that this was a very detailed reply from the small waif, and so he decided to let it go. There was only so much you could do with him when he thought he had given you enough information.
Ryan was a very attentive boy - most of the time. He listened carefully to whatever Gawain had had to say, drinking the knowledge he divested. It did not take long for him to grow on Gawain. It was very much hard to dislike him. He was so enthusiastic and polite, always ready to learn and always cheerful. Little could make him depressed and he never cried, no matter how severe his injuries from constantly falling were.
The only thing about him that exasperated Gawain was his unstoppable clumsiness. Nothing he did could make the boy watch where he was going. It was absolutely fascinating watching him as he walked in a straight line right until the time when a pile of helmets or a medium-sized stone appeared on the horizon. When that happened, the boy would make an unconscious beeline which led him straight to that object, making him stumble right on it. No matter how much he tried, Ryan always managed to find that little fold in the ground, that tiny crevice or that miniscule pebble, which would send him flying and help him acquire a new bruise.
He was a strange boy, sometimes acting his age, sometimes seemingly older than Gawain himself. Whenever someone talked about fights and weapons, his face would sober and he would listen and nothing would take his attention away, and then at times he just could not sit still and would aggravate Gawain or any poor soul that happened to be trying to catch his attention at the moment. He was very active and it was practically painful watching him trying to stay in one place, when his body obviously thought differently.
Through it all, however, Gawain thought he found a new friend. There was something very precious about the little boy, about the trust he seemed to radiate, his smile and even his clumsiness. Despite all his faults, Ryan was a very charming child and Gawain knew without a doubt that one day he would grow up to be an admirable man.
He learned that Ryan's father had been the commander of the Tail Division and that his death had had a very bad influence on Ryan's mother. The woman, though she loved her son dearly, could not stand seeing him, being reminded so much of her lost husband. She started crying every time Ryan was in the room with her and could not bear touch him, which hurt the boy a lot. In the end she begged the Lord Commander to take him away and care for him instead of her.
That had been three years ago. Ryan had not seen his mother since that day. She still lived in the Southern Lands, under the care of her brother and his wife who had no children of their own. Ryan received the occasional letter from her, but aside of that they were completely cut off. Gawain knew that despite the cheery front Ryan put on whenever he talked about his parents, the boy missed them both terribly and was still hurt that his mother apparently did not want him anymore.
Ryan was a very complex person, his tender age notwithstanding.
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About a month into Ryan's training, the boy surprised Gawain with an uncharacteristic question. Ever since the first day they met, when Gawain told him that his father had died several months before, Ryan was careful not to ask anything about Gawain's personal life. The older man found that comforting, that he did not need to expose himself, but after a while he found it downright strange, since Ryan was very inquisitive in every possible subject.
That day however, Ryan's natural curiosity kicked in.
Gawain was alone in the training field, going through the motions of some exercise when Ryan came by, a determined expression on his face. Knowing that when he had that look on his face nothing would deter him, Gawain put his sword back in its scabbard and turned fully to face his charge.
"What is it, Ryan? Do you need anything?" he asked, stretching his arms in order to avoid pained muscles later on.
"I just wanted to ask you something," the boy said, planting himself in front of Gawain.
Gawain simply waited for him to continue, patiently looking down into the serious hazel eyes. He would answer any question the boy had, since his questions always made a lot of sense.
"Why don't you ever go after women?"
All right, so maybe not all of his questions.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why don't you ever go after women?" the boy repeated. "All the other Knights either have wives or they flirt with the women who come to camp, or talk about women or, or, or… so why don't you? I never once heard you speak of a woman the way the other Knights do."
Gawain could not see his own face, and therefore did not realize that a painful expression had spread on it. He had tried to push the thought of Ceridwen so far away, trying not to think of her every waking hour of the day. He so much wanted to be with her and knew that he could not. Ryan's question had brought all that pain back to the surface, where he did not want it to be.
"I'm sorry if I angered you," Ryan said in a hurry, having seen his expression. "You don't have to answer, I was just wondering…"
The apology in his tone made Gawain snap back into reality. "I'm not angry, Ryan," he said softly. "I just miss her so much."
"Did she… did she die?"
Ryan was afraid of death in some level of his mind, Gawain knew. Death in his mind was connected to the loss of love and comfort, to being torn away from your family and from everything you held dear, so when he asked if Ceridwen had died, Gawain knew that Ryan did not want his friend and teacher to suffer the same way he did and was afraid that he had brought the pain back.
"No, no," he hurriedly assured him. "She is alive and quite well. No, it's just that… I have not seen her in a long while, and have not been in contact with her either. On the morning my father died I promised her I would talk to her father the next day and ask for her hand in marriage, but then…"
Soon he found himself explaining Ryan the circumstances of his parting with Ceridwen. It did not matter to him at all that he was pouring his heart out to an eleven-year-old, nor did it matter that said boy did not ask to be his confidant. All that mattered was that he was able to talk to a friend, who let him talk and pour his pain out.
At the end of his confession, Ryan did the most surprising thing. He looked Gawain straight in the eyes and said "Why don't you go and ask her father for her hand now? You're not doing anything now except for teaching me how to be a Knight, and I'm sure the Lord Commander can handle me for a couple of weeks or delegate me to some other poor soul."
The fact that Ryan was quite aware of his reputation in the Order did not go unnoticed by Gawain, who smiled in wry amusement. "How long did you know?"
"What? That I'm being passed as a burden between my teachers? All the time," the boy said, grinning. "I don't mind, though. It's their problem - not mine. But that's not the matter now, is it? Why don't you go up north and ask Ceridwen to marry you? I'm sure the Lord would agree to let you go."
Gawain shrugged it off at that point, but later that day, while Ryan was learning the basics of forging swords from a very disgruntled Seamus, he seriously gave his young charge's idea some thought, and come evening, went to have a word with the Lord Commander.
The next morning dawned clear to find him mounting his horse with Ryan merrily waving him off, the strong hand of Sir Rhys on his shoulder, holding him in place.
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Gawain entered the house of Lord Jervis, Ceridwen's father with his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He stopped at home before coming, refreshing himself, visiting with his mother, who was overjoyed to see him after so long, and making himself presentable.
He wore his armour for the occasion, brushed clean and scrubbed, the dents in it smoothed as best they could. His shield was on his arm and his sword in its scabbard by his side. He made sure he looked the part of the Lord Gryffindor in every aspect.
As he entered the house, greeted by one of the household servants, he could feel his excitement rising. Within the hour, he was certain, he would have Lord Jervis' approval and he would be able to once more see his Ceridwen and have her in his arms. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw a gleam of dark golden hair. He did not fight the smile that grew on his lips. Ceridwen knew he was here, and she would certainly know for what reason. He could now make her proud. He could now be the husband she deserved.
The household servant led him down the hall he knew so well and to where a tall man with a long nose awaited for him next to a familiar door. Gawain tried to calm his breath. He knew who was behind that door.
"Gawain Gryffindor, my lord," the tall man, Lord Jervis' manservant announced disdainfully as he opened the door before Gawain, almost as though Gawain was some foul beggar with the smell of ale on his breath and clothes. It was somewhat worrying, knowing that only a few months before he was exchanging jokes and stories with the man.
The beefy Lord Jervis grunted at this and then darkly said "Let him in."
Warily, not liking the man's tone, Gawain entered the study. Usually Ceridwen's father greeted him with a warm "Gawain, my boy!" and a tankard of his finest ale. He would sit him down and talk about anything and everything. That day however, the man surveyed him darkly through narrowed eyes and acknowledged him with a curt "Gryffindor."
Feeling apprehensive, Gawain hovered uncertainly by the door. Coughing to clear his throat and make himself known, he started "Lord Jervis, I-"
"I know what you're here for, Gryffindor, and I think you are well aware of what my answer will be."
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Ceridwen waited impatiently, pacing back and forth in the hall in front of her father's study, feeling more anxious than ever. It should not have taken that long. Gawain should have gone in and gone out in ten minutes, with her father's arm across his shoulders, the gruff man smiling for all he was worth. Instead, he had been gone for over an hour and the sounds she could hear through the closed door were foreboding - menacing, even.
She also did not like the shifty glance her mother had given her when Gawain had entered the house in his armour, hope in his eyes and a smile on his lips. The glance told her that her mother was privy to information that was hidden from her.
Finally, an eternity later, the door to her father's study banged open and she excitedly turned with a wide smile to greet her soon-to-be husband. That smile faded as soon as she saw his thunderous expression. When he saw her, that expression became sad and pained.
"Gawain-" she started, now even more anxious than before, but he only strode to her, for a moment pausing. He started reaching with his hand to her, but halfway it stopped in midair, hovered for a moment and then retracted, dropping to his side. Shaking his head with fathomless sadness, he walked away without a word, his armour clinking as he went. She could still hear him when he picked his shield and sword from the entrance, and then he was gone.
Confused and very much hurt, she determinedly strode to the open door of the study and stepped inside. She would hear what had gone between the two men, no matter what.
"Ah, Ceridwen," her father said vaguely, his eyes only momentarily flickering up to acknowledge her. "I was just about to send Caleb to come and get you. Do take a seat."
Gingerly, she sat on the edge of one of the padded chairs by the roaring fire. For a while her father said nothing, scribbling something with great intent. Finally, he spoke.
"I thought you should know, my dear, that Gawain Gryffindor had come here today to ask for your hand in marriage. I also thought that you should know that I have refused his request."
"What!" she screeched, almost jumping out of her seat, not believing her ears and not caring in the least who would hear her indignant shriek.
"Do lower you voice, my dear."
"No!" she cried. "I will not lower my voice, Father! How could you do this to me? You have known for years that Gawain and I are courting!"
"Yes, and now I have brought an end to this foolishness," he said, still not looking at her, his eyes fixed on the parchment in front of him. "I am now writing to Lord Bartholomew. His youngest son is still unmarried as of yet, and I am arranging for the two of you to start courting promptly. He will take you to the Council ball next month and I expect the marriage contract will be signed by spring, with benefits to both parties."
"I- you- how- you can't do that!" she finally managed, her face turning redder and redder as understanding of what her father was doing sank into her mind.
"I can and I will, Ceridwen," he said coldly, his voice not rising but still managing to convey that he would allow only that much disobedience on her part before he would use his power over her to make her obey. "By spring you will be betrothed to Lord Bartholomew's son, by summer you will be wed, and by the next spring I expect you to produce an heir to your husband. This is the way things will happen, daughter, so get the idea of marrying Gryffindor out of your mind. It will never happen. You may go."
He face a thunderstorm, tears gleaming in her eyes, Ceridwen got up and fled the room.
How many of you guessed that the Lord Commander's squire was Ryan in Chapter 1? ;) I absolutely love that boy. He's so fun to write…
So what will we have in the next chapter (hopefully to be posted next week, but no promises!)? Schemes, schemes - oh, and did I mention schemes? Seriously, though, next chapter would feature a lot more of Ryan, Gawain, Ceridwen and Searlas. Hope you like and see you then!
Hugs and kisses to all!
-Star of the North