Ache

Jamke - Gran 757

The army was loud. Not surprising, given the number of people, but their cheerful laughter echoed through the trees a little too much for me. At least, for the moment. After all, I had gone to the outskirts of the camp and hid among the branches of the tallest tree I could find to get away. I didn't want to begrudge them for celebrating, but there was only so much I could handle. Everything ached, from my arms and back to my heart and soul.

Sighing, I leaned more against the trunk of the tree, watching the leaves rustle in the wind around me. After a moment, I looked down at my hands, remembering the feel of the bow and arrow as I aimed and took Sadima's life. You'd think I'd feel better about it, but I didn't. I didn't, because in the end, Sadima stole… everything. My country was ruined. My people were bleeding. My family was dead. You'd think I'd at least be apathetic about my brothers' deaths, but I found myself wishing I could argue with them one more time. Scoff at their insults and 'politely' insult them in turn. Because it would mean they were alive. It would mean they were alive, and maybe if they were alive, then Father would not have… Father would…

My vision blurred and I covered my face in my hands to stem and quiet the tears. And hoping the tears would wash away the feeling of holding Father's dying body in my arms. Feeling his pulse slow with every beat. Feeling his breath grow shallower and shallower. Feeling his blood seep under my armor. Helpless as he smiled and apologized, told me how proud he was. It was like I'd been six years old again, holding onto Mother's hand as the illness slowly sapped away all of her life and strength. But it was worse, because children were supposed to be helpless. I was an adult now, one who had trained to be strong. I even chose to specialize in archery because you could protect more people from a greater distance. But it hadn't mattered. It hadn't mattered at all.

Life and Death were the strongest forces in existence, and gods, did they ever like reminding us mortals of that fact.

"Ah, so that's why the spirits are feeling sad." Deirdre's gentle voice called my attention down, and I saw her smile was just as gentle. "They want to give you comfort, but you never learned how to hear them," she murmured, still smiling. After rubbing roughly at my eyes, I climbed down so that she wouldn't have to hurt her neck looking up. I'd been up high. "Ah, wait, that sounded patronizing, didn't it?"

"I think only you folk of the Spirit Forest know anything about hearing spirits," I reminded, making myself smile, slightly. I had to say it was weird, though. I'd long heard tales of the people who lived deep within the Spirit Forest, mostly about how they weren't fully human, descended from spirits and fairies. And I had to admit that Deirdre's looks gave that sort of impression, being frailer and more delicate than the typical Verdanite. "What brings you out here? The spirits?"

"Mostly." She glanced at the army, all partying by a fire. "I am not used to so many people."

"I can imagine." That reminded me of how there were stories about how, if you wandered too deep, the denizens of the Forest would spirit you away, never to return. I almost asked, but thankfully, the manners Mother beat into my skull as a toddler and child reigned supreme. Just barely. "Are the spirits really sad just because of me?"

"No, but it's why they're clustering here, instead of assisting the newly dead." She rested her hand on the smooth bark of the tree, looking up at the branches. "...I think your father made the journey safely. Though they are sad, they are not fretting." She returned her attention to me, smiling kindly yet sadly. "I… that is the only comforting words I can think of. I don't know… I never knew my father, and my mother died in childbirth. I have no family. So, I don't know the pain you're going through or if there even is a way to lessen it, but..."

"...It's good to know his spirit isn't trapped here." It really was. You had stories of those who died with regrets being tied to the land. "Mother can give him a good scolding."

"Is that… a good thing?" She tilted her head in confusion, but giggled when I nodded. "Then I hope she is."

Just then, Aideen called for Deirdre and, after giving me a little bow, Deirdre returned to the party, where Aideen waited with Ethlyn and Miss Alicia. At the same time, Sigurd was walking towards me, and though he briefly stopped to catch Deirdre by the hand to kiss her cheek, he didn't linger, not even to grin at how deeply she blushed. Instead, he continued walking straight for me, and his worried eyes hinted he'd been looking for me for a while.

"There you are," he whispered, confirming my suspicion. He studied my face, and I knew he saw the tears I'd shed. It wasn't as if I'd had time to hide the 'evidence', really. "Would you like me to tell everyone to start heading for bed?"

"Hmm? Ah, no," I replied, startled. I hadn't even considered that option. "No, celebrations should occur with battles end."

"Does it feel that way, or…?" He kept studying my expression, and after a moment, I got it. He knew I was hurting. He was making sure that I didn't feel like they were mocking my pain, or celebrating my father's death. "Ah, I'm probably muddling things, huh?"

"No, you are just a very considerate worrywart." But it was nice to see him recognize that today was a bad day for me. "I do worry about the peace negotiations, though."

"I'll vouch for you, so that should help smooth things." He smiled, relieved, and I managed to smile back. I was desperately worried that Grannvale would seize Verdane in retaliation for this. "My worry is more on Sadima."

"Ah, yes." That was a pretty large worry. For a number of reasons. "Have you ever led a Hunt, Sigurd?"

"No, never." His answer didn't surprise me, though the quiet anger in those two words did. I quickly decided against mentioning that I had. Just once. It had been enough to make me sick. Father had stated it was my empathy… and it was why Father never disinherited my brothers. A king had to prepare to deal with enemies harshly, and Loptyrians were the enemy. I didn't understand why you had to kill children for it instead of just giving them to other families. "They're not done in Chalphy."

"They're not?" Strange, I had heard Grannvale was particularly vigilant in the Hunts.

"Father finds the practice detestable, and passed that to both my sister and myself. Dismissed quite a few tutors who tried to teach us otherwise." He shrugged and crossed his arms, leaning against the tree. "I personally don't understand why we have to hold people in the present accountable for crimes done a century ago. As if children choose their parents, or descendants pick their ancestors." He focused his attention on me. "You bring it up because Sadima used dark magic."

"Yes…" Letting people know that there were Loptyrians actively fighting? It seemed like a recipe for mass hysteria, with people slaughtering each other left and right. "I'm not sure I could control my people's anger…" They were angry enough at Sadima.

"And if word reached Grannvale…" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Probably best to leave it out of the official report, and have people investigate subtly."

"Of course." I couldn't help but be saddened by that, though. After all, that meant blame for this would fall on my father and…

"So, with your permission, I was thinking we blame your brothers?" His voice was hesitant, and if I wasn't so startled, I probably would've found it amusing that even after what my brothers did, he still was so careful. "I know my king will believe it. It was your brothers who attacked us, after all."

"That… is true." I smiled once the shock faded, almost chuckling because he had read me so easily. I didn't want my father's legacy of peace to be so tainted. "I can agree to that." But that did leave to one concern. "Are you going to be able to lie, though?"

"Hmm? Is it a lie? All I have to do is say that your brothers attacked and not say anything about Sadima." He widened his eyes innocently before snickering. "Besides, that'll be Quan's problem. He might be my brother-in-law, but he's the Prince of Leonster, meaning he can serve as a neutral party in negotiations. So, he gets to lie." He grinned and I burst into laughter, unable to help it. It was startling that I could laugh after today, but… well, there was something soothing and healing about Sigurd. It was the same reason why Ayra and Shanan were able to thrive in this army. "Ah, that's enough being serious. Do you want to continue being alone, or would you like to join the festivities?"

"I…" I hesitated and closed my eyes to weigh the options. The wind rustled through the leaves, and I thought I heard Father's voice urging me on. "I think I could use a drink, actually. A strong one."

"Not sure how strong we've got, but I'm sure we'll find something." Sigurd smiled and slung his arm around my shoulder to lead me into the noisy crowd. "Let's find Alec. I'm sure he's convinced half the army to participate in a drinking context anyway."

Alec had, in fact, gotten half the army drunk in a drinking contest, but he himself was sober enough to give recommendations for me. After that, I stayed near the edges, sipping my drink, enjoying the atmosphere but not wanting to really participate-participate. No one forced me, and many actually came to talk to me. Dew actually attached himself to me, telling me all sorts of ridiculous stories that made me laugh, while Aideen and Sigurd both frequently checked on how I was doing. I even had a conversation with Midir about the benefits of different types of bows, impressed by his extensive knowledge.

...I'd make it through this. I'd restore the broken trust, and rebuild Verdane into the peaceful kingdom Father first forged. And, in time, the ache in my heart would ease. I'd heal. In time.

Author's note: Have another Jamke, mourning his father's death and a bit of talk about the cover story for things. (Said cover story is mentioned in Memoirs of the Holy War)