Lady Knight
Sorry for the long wait once again… I'm actually working in one of the labs on campus now – yay my own project! And next month I have field courses again. The long and short of it is that updates may be infrequent, but they will definitely happen! .
Chapter 2: Lady Knight
Celena Schezar entered the grand hall with a frown upon her face. Ever since acquiring Lord Theron's land, the Fanelian council had become increasingly difficult. The new-found access to the oceans had triggered an almost alarming burst in Fanelia's economy, and the council, being predominately made up of older men, seemed to have trouble adjusting its policies to keep up with the times. Ships were being built and new markets were opening to Fanelian businesses and along with all this, new foreign policies were desperately needed.
It only made sense to Celena to sign as many trade agreements and peace treaties as possible – but her fellow ministers seemed to object. Instead they fussed over the possibilities of war and the conflicting interests that could arise in such situations. "But why must there be another war?" Celena would cry out in frustration. "Why can we not live in peace indefinitely?"
A crazy idealist, they called her behind her back, scoffing at the fact that a woman was playing at being the minister of defense and foreign policy. Even Van had begun to take sides with his advisors rather than her, warning Celena in private to tone down her speeches about an ideal world with governments that communicated amongst themselves well before conflicts could ever arise. Celena sighed mournfully, politics was proving to be more difficult that she had ever dreamed; requiring acting on a level so much more complex than anything she'd yet attempted.
A bemused voice suddenly spoke near her ear, "You look depressed, or perhaps just angry." The rough voice lowered to a husky whisper. "Perhaps there's something I could do to alleviate such feelings?"
"Theron." Celena said with a smile. If she were to think about it too hard, her and Theron's obvious affair was likely not helping her position on the council. In fact, that she was sleeping with a lord, and worse, this specific lord, likely was weakening the respect she had worked so hard to build up over the past few years. Yet despite all this, Celena found herself unable to say no; completely incapable of putting an end to any of this.
And why should she? She would ask herself in her darker moments. Theron was the one person who really knew and understood her, the one person who accepted her as being both feminine and a warrior all at once. He made her smile, he made her heart beat faster, he gave her the strength to walk back into those council chambers every week, to argue for what she believed in, for what would be best for the country she had come to love as her own.
Which was why despite the whispers and vicious gossip that circled around the court (for the ladies and young mademoiselles of the court were all less than thrilled that the handsome new eligible bachelor was, in fact, not so eligible), their affair continued long after Theron's installment into the House of Lords. In fact, it had been a decent six months since Celena had first fallen asleep in Theron's warm embrace, and still she seemed to never get enough of the feelings he sent spiraling through her.
"Minister Celena." His warm voice enveloped her as he dashingly took her arm, leading her across the grand hall towards the wing of the palace in which she lived. "You know," he continued, "at some point you should reconsider my offer to move into my estate."
Celena rolled her eyes at Theron, "We're already a scandal as it is, do you really want to make it that much worse?"
At this Theron just laughed. "If you really think that what any of those airhead young woman, or scowling matrons think of us actually matters…"
Celena cut him off, the hushed twitter of bitter whispers floating across the hallway echoing in her ears like the roar of an ocean. "It's not them I'm concerned about!" She paused in her footsteps, pulling Theron to look at her, "It's the council I worry about. Those terrible old men who judge me more harshly every time I speak. Those terrible men who use my every mistake as ammunition against me." She let her blue eyes bore into Theron's own. "Please understand."
Theron gave a tight nod, his eyes unusually dark, as if closed up inside himself. "I do understand." He said suddenly, letting Celena's arm fall and stepping away. He stared at her for a long moment. "I do understand." He repeated again, his voice soft and slightly wistful. With that he walked away from her, his footsteps heavy against the marble floor of the hall.
Celena stared after Theron's retreating figure. "That's not what I meant…" She said miserably, her voice dipping into an uncharacteristic whine. But it was too soft, and didn't carry across the seemingly vast distance between them to Theron's ears. Or perhaps the words did carry, and he just chose to ignore them. Theron was unpredictable that way…
Which was one of the things she loved about him, Celena thought with another sigh, returning to her original task of going to her rooms to change into something more fitting for a decent swordfight. It had been a strange revelation, to discover that she loved Theron. He was unpredictable, sometimes moody, always stubborn – but she found herself as attached to these qualities as to his smile, his way of saying just what she needed to hear, the way a single touch could set her on fire when it was him.
Whether he felt the same way about her, she didn't know. The emotion, the feeling of love within her, was so vast, so darkly unknowable that it terrified her to be the first to say the words. So she didn't. She waited, hoping that he would one day tell her that he loved her, and then she could reply back, giving those strange swirling feelings a name. But he didn't.
So it was a very irate Celena Schezar who slipped out of her ministerial robes into rough leather breeches and a loose-fitting white shirt. It was an angry and frustrated Celena who strapped her sword to her side, stepping out of her rooms at a frightful pace and heading straight down to the training rooms. It was a bitter Celena who stepped into the room, where Sir Rorkin just happened to be practising his own swordplay. And it was a snarling Celena who demanded that he fight her. Her old teacher, the man who had once admitted to having feelings for her after one too many drinks at a holiday celebration, the only one besides her brother or Van or perhaps, on a good day, Theron, who posed any sort of challenge for her skill.
She knew he still had feelings for her. It was something she played up to, despite his recent marriage to a sweet young woman named Blanche. Which was terrible of her she supposed, but it was nice to have someone willing to fight you at the drop of a hat in exchange for nothing more than a kind word that told them you still knew they existed. Celena no longer tried to pretend that she was a completely good person, deluding oneself as to one's true nature only made one weak. By knowing and accepting oneself fully, one could nearly always win.
Yet it was this train of thought that coupled with the overwhelming feelings within her to distracted Celena. In point of fact, she didn't actually feel the blade of Rorkin's sword, too focused upon her mental turmoil to realize that she had been an uncharacteristic moment too late in blocking what was really an easy move to block. It was the look of horrified shock that spread across Rorkin's face, the widening of his eyes, the silent gasp of air that escaped him, that brought Celena back to the present.
Celena looked down; the sword was a lovely thing. The hilt was fine, not overly decorated like some she had seen in her years as a knight, the weapon finely balanced. The steel blade shone in the dim lighting of the training room, ruby red blood dripping along its length. "It's so pretty." Celena heard herself whisper, staring in amused surprise at the sword that was currently buried in her abdomen. She looked up at Rorkin, a frown spreading across her features, "I've gotten sloppy." She whispered, shame in her voice as she fell heavily to the floor.
"She'll never have children." A voice said in the far-off distance. "It's actually amazing she survived at all, most women, most men, couldn't survive a hit like that."
"Will she wake up soon?" A more familiar voice asked softly.
"I don't know." The first voice replied, the masculine tone becoming apparent to Celena's drowsy mind. "I don't really know if she will wake up at all."
A heavy sigh sounded somewhere. "This is unfortunate. What on earth was she thinking getting careless now? She's the only forward-thinking person on my council…"
"Your council?" The familiar voice interrupted, ire in his voice. "Is that really the important thing here?"
"Excuse me for having a country to run." The voice Celena suddenly placed as Van's bit back. "I need Celena. You what? Toy with her heart and make a spectacle of both of yourselves? That's surely important."
"I'll just be going then," the first distant voice said softly, sheepishly. A doctor? Celena wondered distantly, thinking seemed a little difficult when she was so surrounded by fog.
"I love her." The familiar voice hissed darkly. "That," he spat, "That is what's important."
He loves me, Celena found herself thinking. Theron loves me. She felt herself sinking into clouds, warm and soft, happiness diffuse around her. Then panic. This wasn't right. When he said that, when he said those words, she was supposed to say them back. Celena struggled against the clouds, fumbled through the fog in her mind, opening her eyes to the still-going fight between the man she loved and the man she served.
"I," her voice was quiet, ragged. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. "I," she said a little louder, her voice a hoarse whisper now. It was a miracle that the two men heard her at all.
"Celena!" Theron cried, his voice tremulous with concern as he rushed to her side, falling to his knees at her bedside. "Hush." He said softly, running a hand gently across her forehead. "Everything will be alright."
"Celena?" Van's voice questioned from behind Theron, "Would you like some water?" His voice was dry, practical yet with the grave overtones of those who rule countries, or father daughters.
Celena nodded weakly, letting Theron hold both her head and the glass that sat at her bedside. A few precious drops of water slipped past her lips, moistening her mouth, granting her speech. "I love you." She whispered to Theron, a mere breath across her lips, but essential.
"Well, that's just great." Van's voice said from the doorway. "I'll be running the country. Please excuse me." His voice betrayed the fact that he knew no one in the room was listening to him.
"Celena." Theron said hoarsely, wrapping his hand around her's. "I wanted to do this better." He looked at her with his wide blue eyes that seemed to pierce her tired soul, "But I know now I need to just say this now. I don't want to lose you. This was just too close." He swallowed hard while Celena fought to keep her eyes open. This was important, she was sure of it. "Will you marry me?" Theron said softly, his hand tightening around her's.
A thought wound its way through Celena's head, stilling her assent on her lips. "I can't have babies." She whispered suddenly, the first words she'd heard upon awakening suddenly sinking into her conciousness.
"Then it's just as well that I don't want any." Theron's bemused voice replied. His tone deepened as his eyes turned serious, "I want you."
Celena looked at him for a long moment between eyelashes. His face blurred and grew fuzzy between clear views of him. "Then yes." She said softly, the words slipping from her lips even as she fell back into sleep.
It took Celena several months to get over her wounds and back onto her feet. It took her several more to once again lift a sword. It wasn't until she had bested not only Theron and her brother, but also Van, who would never go easy on anyone, that she agreed that she was healed.
The wedding was a modest affair, as far as weddings within the royal court could go. The scandalous whispers and gossip were cut dead in their tracks, a grudging acknowledgement that perhaps Theron and Celena were actually a sweet couple, married and newly-respectable, replacing them. The youngest members of the court found themselves wishing in hushed yet fervent whispers that they could find a match so thrilling and romantic.
Allen, terribly drunk and proud, gave a speech that few people in the room actually understood. His toast stuck in everyone's mind however, "To my sister," he said finally, after ten minutes of drunken rambling and recollection, "The Lady Knight." Celena never really forgave him for labeling her so, for Fanelia's Lady Knight became a being in her own right, recognized well beyond Celena's own name or talent in the years that followed.
But a few years later, Celena found herself wishing that the reputation of the Lady Knight could simply help her more.