Never in their wildest dreams would the bard and the warrior have thought that they would end up in Jerusalem together, Eden mused, as she was taking one of the walks that was becoming a habit for her. She couldn't sleep at night, plagued by troubling images and a heavy heart. She slept only when she was able to tire herself to exhaustion, but today was not one of those days. So she wandered around the cloister quietly, soaking in the cool night. If someone had told her that she was to befriend a young, talkative, wide-eyed, blond bard, Eden probably would have fallen off her bench with laughter and then given the person a nice black eye for good measure. But what was done was done and it didn't matter whether Eden understood it or not, she felt the effects anyway. It's so strange, she thought, how we all do things thinking that we have power over them, that it's us making the decision, it's us laying down the path. Rarely do we notice we actually end up on the roads we never had considered taking in the first place. But it didn't seem to matter anymore she thought with a sigh and wrapped her arms around herself. Arielle had chosen her path and Eden had to find hers anew.
But roads have the tendency of going in their own preconceived directions, not minding their travelers at all.
It didn't take much time after Arielle's acceptance of his marriage proposal for the gallant and gentle Dorian to show a completely different side towards Arielle. His tone and manner were less enraptured and more irritated. Their long conversations grew successively shorter, gruffer, and bland. The bard felt like she had suddenly become a star that fell out of the sky and lost its appeal and sparkle, lying pathetically on the ground simply waiting to be ingloriously trampled underfoot. Her armor and weapons had been locked away in a chest and her clothes changed to the dresses, shoes, cloaks, and jewelery of upstanding maidens. Her daily tasks were reduced only to those that were deemed proper for a woman such as herself such needlework, reading, music, and looking pretty. Arielle began to realize that she didn't even leave the manor anymore, having everything done by the various servants. She felt a dismalness spread within her as each passing day took the vision of her and Dorian having adventures further and and further away.
The bard noticed the change in her betrothed on one night in particular. They were eating a nice supper in the main dining hall. Dorian had invited some other nobles and they were laughing and drinking the night away. Arielle felt somewhat out of place and uncomfortable amongst the group of men as it became more and more apparent that she was being collectively ignored and that she was only there as an accessory. The more freely the wine flowed, the less sophisticated the conversation became, dropping to the level of tavern stories and humor. One of the nobles who was sitting next to the bard, began to edge more and more closely to her, whispering or yelling improper jokes or remarks in her ear. When his hands began to wander, Arielle finally decided to stand and politely take her leave. Yet before she could go, she felt Dorian's strong hand on her wrist.
"You are mistaken," he practically hissed lowly, glaring at her with his dark eyes, "you will leave when I give you permission to leave."
"But, Dorian-"
"Sit." he ordered in a threatening tone.
She slowly sat back down, he released her wrist, and his face resumed its joviality when he returned to his conversation. Arielle sat through the rest of night at the table obediently, trying to ignore the condescending remarks she was subject to and the fact that Dorian even joined in on them. She also tried to ignore the stubborn, returning thought that these so-called noblemen would have all been lying black and blue in a pigsty by now if Eden had been there.
Another thing that had caught Arielle's attention was how Aldric seemed to keep by her side a little too often and a little too long and she began to wonder whether he was really supposed to be her steward or more like a spy on her. Wherever she went, Aldric wasn't far behind, whether he was asked to be or not and always with a faint but warm smile on his face. The afternoon after the dinner she had already had enough and Aldric's ever present footsteps echoing behind her jarred her a lot more than usual and she finally found herself on nerve's edge with the young man.
"Must you follow me around everywhere?!" she finally cried out in exasperation at the young man.
"I'm your steward, my lady." he replied calmly, his facial expression unperturbed.
"But must you be like my shadow?! Are you here to help me or spy on me?!"
Aldric said nothing, but linked his hands behind him, cocked his head a little to the side, and simply looked at the blond. Realizing the steward wasn't going to say anything, Arielle sighed loudly and stomped off towards her chambers, Aldric right behind her. When she reached her door, she opened it forcibly and wanted to slam it shut behind her. Yet, the nimble arm of the steward kept the door from slamming right on him and he squeezed his way inside.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Arielle cried at him.
Aldric paid her no heed, promptly walked up the window, opened it, and in one solid gesture yanked the frame from its hinges. Arielle gasped and took a step back.
"Come here, my lady." he said in a calm, even voice and seeing the sudden fright in her eyes added, "Please. Don't be afraid."
Arielle eyed him warily, but seeing no menace in his eyes, voice, or behavior, she slowly walked across the room to where he standing.
"My lady, you are in grave danger." he stated simply.
"What?"
"You can't stay here, my lady. It's not safe."
"Not safe? What are you talking about, Aldric? I'm perfectly safe here." Arielle countered.
Aldric sighed and looked at her closely. She noticed an innocent warmth spreading within his eyes.
"Do you trust me, my lady?" he asked, his tone a little quieter and friendlier.
Arielle looked at him, remembering the same words from a different place and person and finally nodded once. He took a step forward and lowered his voice to a whisper.
"You are not like the others."
"Others?"
"There is something good within you, my lady." he continued, ignoring her question, "This house... the people here are not what they appear to be."
"Aldric, what are you talking about?"
"You were right to suspect me as you did. There's an evil that lurks about this house, a shadow that follows the lord... There was a reason you were brought here, my lady. None of this is coincidence... You don't deserve this."
"Deserve what?"
"What is going on here?" Dorian's voice boomed from the doorway making Arielle jump.
"My lord," Aldric answered, turning towards the nobleman with a stoic expression and tone, "The lady complained of a broken window hinge and I came to repair it. When evening comes, the lady could catch a chill otherwise."
Dorian looked at them with suspicion, but decided to not press it any further when he saw that the hinge was truly broken.
"Come with me." he ordered the steward, turned on his heel, and stalked off.
The steward and the bard looked at each other for a moment, a new understanding forming between them.
Arielle sat in her chair at her table over her open journal and stared out the window into the darkness. The bard noticed that she somehow felt at one with it, she felt its emptiness. She sighed heavily.
In her eyes, Arielle wasn't beautiful, witty, or anything much in particular- she was painfully mediocre. She seemed to be nothing and no one more than her father's daughter. And even in that, she always seemed to be overlooked. Her father's wealth and position, although substantial, could always be trumped by someone else's. In the end, Arielle felt like she was being auctioned off by her family like a prize painting that no one wanted to look at. And her father made sure that Arielle knew that her failure in securing a good marriage was somehow her fault. She didn't have to be interested in stories and adventures, she didn't have to be so... different. That's why Dorian's proposal seemed like such a dream. It was exactly what anyone had ever wanted from her, it was everything she was expected to do. A shaky breath escaped her as the drowning, defiant, little spirit deep within her let out a rebel yell.
"Is it that bad?" Arielle heard from behind her and turned towards the voice in startled surprise.
"What... Who are you?" she stammered to the figure beside her.
A strange being surrounded in a faint light approached her and stood next to the table and gazed at her. A young, blond angel with crimson armor and dark green wings. With a determined face. With a fierce step. With a warm glow.
"I'm happy we could finally meet." the angel said, a serious yet warm smile crossing her face.
"Who are you? Are you... are you an angel?" Arielle asked in wonder.
"I am. I am your guardian angel, in fact."
"Mine?"
The angel nodded once.
"I... I didn't even think I had a guardian angel."
"I don't see why not. Especially you."
"Especially me?"
The angel studied her closely, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Yes... You seem in need of a friend." the angel noted.
A light shadow floated over Arielle's face and she hung her head, staring at the floor.
"What is it that troubles you?" the angel asked, her gaze unmoving.
"Everything..." the bard whispered after a few moments of silence, "Why can't things be simple?..."
The angel chuckled warmly.
"All of Heaven is filled with complaints to God about why things have to be so difficult. But maybe it's not always the things that are complicated, but you who complicates them?
"How can I complicate anything," Arielle replied with knotted brows, "if it is God who set things before me?"
"Do you really think that all you encounter in this life is set before you by God?... Your decision to marry Dorian was your own, not God's."
"I asked for a husband and family."
"No, Arielle, you didn't." the angel countered, shaking her head, "Ever since you were little, you asked for love. The fact that of all the people you met, you saw that love in Dorian is your own doing."
"Even so, isn't love supposed to be found in a husband?"
"You're not listening." the angel asserted gently, "You asked for love. When God sends you that love, it doesn't have to be in the way you imagine it or want it to be. It will be given according to God's will and your plan and purpose."
The bard opened her mouth and then closed it, realizing that she really didn't know what to say.
"It's the decisions you make that form who you are." the angel continued.
Who am I then? A daughter? A woman? A betrothed maiden? A bard? A Christian? A traveler? Am I all those things put together? Or am I none of those things at all?...
Arielle wrinkled her brows in deep thought and then let out a long breath when she came to no conclusion. The angel crossed her arms over her chest.
"Of all the things you listed, why didn't you mention being a friend?"
"If I was a friend to anyone then I wouldn't be in need of one now." Arielle pointed out.
"A valid point... if it was true."
Arielle looked at her with incomprehension.
"You still have a friend, Arielle..."
"No... I ruined it, discarding it like the morning slop..."
"Do you regret it?"
"What difference does it make? There is nothing I can do to change what happened." the bard answered, hanging her head.
"But you can change what will happen."
Arielle looked up at the angel whose gaze was intense yet very gentle at the same time.
"She is not the woman I thought I knew..." Arielle protested feebly.
"She is every part the woman you thought she was." the angel countered, "Arielle, you know well the power of words. They can make or break a person, yet everyone from the village idiot to the king can use them. Pay mind who speaks the words and not just to the words themselves."
Arielle furrowed her brows in deep thought, the angel's words sinking into her. But a nagging, little black voice within her kept raising its ugly head and repeating that there was nothing left to save.
"What's the use?... Eden would never forgive me... She probably hates me..."
"Well then maybe she is even more of the person than you thought she is."
"Angel, please, tell me what to do!" Arielle said desperately.
The blond angel only silently shook her head.
"Didn't you want to prove yourself and make your own decisions? Besides, you have a free will. I can advise you, but I won't tell you what to do. But I can tell you one thing. It's easy to make a decision. The difficult part is foreseeing the consequences... and living with them."
Arielle peered deep into the fantastic green-gold eyes of the angel.
"Be wary protector..." the angel said, slowly walking back to where she had come from and disappearing, "Words are the tool of man, to be used for good or evil."
"But how do I know?"
"Everyone can teach us a lesson. A warrior shows us the power of actions. The bard demonstrates that truth is found in the heart..."
"Wait! Don't go yet!" Arielle cried to the angel, but the angel had vanished.
A moment later the door flew open and Aldric peered inside nervously.
"My lady? Is everything alright?"
"Yes... Yes, Aldric..." she answered in a daze.
"I heard shouts from your chamber..."
"No... it's fine... Aldric... would you come in?"
"My lady?"
"Just for a moment."
Aldric entered the room and closed the door behind him quietly and waited somewhat nervously, wringing the edges of his tunic lightly with his hands.
"Aldric..." Arielle said quietly, slowing turning her eyes to him, "would you think me insane if I asked you if you believed in angels?"
"Well, no, no, my lady, not at all." he stammered, a little shocked with the strange question being asked in the middle of the night.
"Do you think angels are real?"
"I do, my lady. Why do you ask?"
"I guess sometimes I think myself insane." Arielle sighed heavily and sat on the edge of her bed.
"It's sometimes difficult to believe in the things we have faith in." Aldric said, hanging his head somewhat shyly, "Let me tell you a story about angels... if I may, my lady."
Aldric looked at the bard from under his brows, unsure of her response. She looked at him with interest and gave him a single nod after which he raised his head again and started out ahead of him.
"My lady..." Aldric started, trying to find the right words and then deciding to simply tell the story, "I lived in a small village not very far from Acre. One day, we were attacked by desert raiders. It was generally a bloody time of war and chaos... Many of the villagers were at home still, the sun had just began to rise... The raiders burned everything... and everyone inside..."
"I'm so sorry..." Arielle said, getting up and placing her hand gently on his shoulder.
"Only my mother and I were at home. She desperately tried to find somewhere to hide me... She told me to be good... and then she ran into the other room when part of the burning hovel collapsed on her..." he continued, sucking in a breath at the tragic memory, "I noticed Eden just when she looked at me, like she sensed I was there... She broke away from the bandits and galloped towards me and then ran into the burning hovel, scooped me up, and carried me out through the back. She walked a ways, then let me down, and crouched in front of me. She gave me all the food she had with her and a knife. She then drew a map in the sand of where I was to go. She told me to go to Acre... and to be good... And then she was gone..."
Arielle felt a tear roll down her cheek at the end of Aldric's tale. He turned his solemn gaze to Arielle.
"So you see, my lady, God works in mysterious ways. She was in the band that destroyed my home and family... but, in the end, instead of easily taking my life, she saved it, risking her own... That's the way I see it... And that's the closest I know of angels..."
Eden's stay with the Hospitallers was a quiet one. They weren't overly fond of the warrior; her acceptance was always a little more cordial amongst the more battle-oriented Templars. Nevertheless, they grudgingly accepted and tolerated her presence primarily for Lawrence's sake. He was very respected amongst the order and they decided that if Eden was Lawrence's good friend, then she couldn't be all evil. They knew she was a guardian, but approached the subject suspiciously since they suspected that she might have lost God's favor after all the things she had done as the desert death angel. Eden kept out of their way, not wanting to disturb or aggravate anyone unnecessarily, staying in a separate house with the rest of the sisters.
Eden mostly spent her time alone or with Lawrence. And there was also Helen. Helen was one of the several Hospitaller women living in the Hospitaller quarters. Lawrence had led Eden down to the kitchen one day and there they stumbled upon Helen who was vigorously stirring stew in a large cauldron over the fire.
"If Helen's making stew, then it will be the finest stew you've ever tasted." Lawrence said to Eden.
"Oh, Lawrence, you always know what to say to this old bag of bones." Helen replied with a slight blush on her face.
Eden looked at the woman. Helen was taller, stouter, and slightly older than the guardian, yet nothing near an old bag of bones. She had a calm and very happy presence around her, her voice warm and cheerful.
"Helen, this is my good friend Eden." Lawrence introduced.
"Oh! Oh..." Helen said, turning and recognizing Eden and then noticing her warrior dress, "Are you a Templar or something? I don't think I've heard of you."
"Excuse me?" Eden asked as her left eyebrow shot upwards in surprise while Lawrence did his best to stifle a laugh.
"Oh, don't mind me. I never seem to know the most important people or things. I guess it's part of working in the kitchen most of the day. Do you like the kitchen?"
Eden's other eyebrow shot up and she gazed in confused surprise at the Hospitaller woman. Helen was looking at her with wide, curiously innocent eyes that were expecting an answer. And soon Eden learned that Helen was always expecting an answer.
"The kitchen?" Eden barely repeated and Lawrence found a chair and sat down, snickering into his sleeve.
"Oh, I guess I have a certain soft spot for it, you see. There's always plenty to do and it's warm. Outside of the rush before mealtimes, it can even sometimes be quite comfortably quiet. Have you worked in a kitchen before?... Oh, silly me, of course you haven't. I can't imagine peeling potatoes with that blade, no... Oh, but then you must have great adventures if you're not stuck in the kitchen like me. You probably even know how to use that sword you have, right? Oh, and maybe you know how to ride a horse? Have you had many adventures? My husband is off on one right now most likely. Do you have a husband?"
Eden's hands unconsciously roamed around in back of her until they felt a sturdy table and she grabbed it and slowly sat down on the edge of it. Eden could safely say that she had never met anyone who had asked so many questions in so short a time. She slumped under Helen's wave and let out a faint moan of perplexed distress and her ears picked up Lawrence as he laughed almost soundlessly. Helen's eyes peered at the warrior in that constant anticipation of hers, blinking every so often innocently. Eden opened her mouth slightly, but no words dared venture out.
"Oh dear me," Helen said in sudden shock, brushing the front of her dress vigorously, "I've been rambling again, haven't I? Oh, I'm ever so sorry. All this talk centered around me and you're the new one here. Have you come to join the Hospitallers perhaps? That would be a grand thing; I would have someone to talk to. Maybe I could show you around? And get you a proper dress. I think you'll fit in quite nicely, don't you?"
"No." Eden replied bluntly, almost unable to take any more questions.
"Oh." Helen replied with some disappointment, but regaining her cheerfulness rather quickly, "Well, I can understand it would be a rather large change compared to what you might be used to. But everyone seems to find their place quite quickly; there's something here for everyone. What would you be interested in doing? Cooking? Cleaning? Caring for the sick? Of course, all of us pray. Do you pray often?"
Eden's mouth opened and closed faintly with words she wasn't able to say under the deluge. Lawrence finally stood, quite pleased with himself and walked up to Eden's side and to the rescue.
"Helen, Eden will be staying with us for a while as my guest. I somehow doubt she will join our Order, although maybe, after some time, she'll change her mind..."
"Oh, that would be lovely!" Helen squeaked, clasping her hands with delight, "Forgive my forwardness, but I believe we would make very good friends. We get along so well already, wouldn't you agree?... Oh dear me, the stew!"
Helen fluttered over to the stew while Lawrence led the still stunned warrior out of the kitchen. When the heavy kitchen door closed behind them, Eden let out a big sigh.
"So what do you think of Helen? Delightful, isn't she?" Lawrence asked, not hiding an amused grin.
"I don't think I've ever been asked so many questions in my entire life. Is she human?"
"Oh, Eden, be nice. She's a very kind person and good listener."
"Probably only when she's unconscious." Eden mumbled.
Helen was friendly, but maybe a little too friendly for Eden's taste. That kind of open kindness made the suspicious warrior even more suspicious and made her wonder if the given person wasn't perhaps up to something. Helen seemed to have no limits as to questions and topics of conversation while for Eden nearly everything was off limits except for the weather. I know someone who Helen would have really loved to meet.
It was Lawrence who came and told Eden about Arielle and Dorian's wedding announcement. There was no reaction on the warrior's face to the news, but he knew how much it hurt when he saw Eden discretely lean against the stone wall. She pressed the back of her head against the cool stone as Arielle's claim that 'it's not like that' began to echo in her head. Oh, Arielle... Leave me, never speak to me again, hate me even, but why would you marry Dorian? Please, don't...
Eden had said nothing and after a few moments, simply pushed off of the wall and walked away. Lawrence saw nothing of her for the rest of the day. He wanted to support her, but he also didn't want to crowd her, something that Eden found quite irritating. It was a pain she had to go over in her own mind and heart before she would even consider talking about it at all. It was the middle of the night in the middle of the cloister that turned out to be Eden's time to talk.
"I had a feeling I might find you here." Lawrence said warmly, emerging from the shadows, "Some things never change."
He remembered when they were still children and Eden would worry about or think about things, she would often not be able to sleep, roaming the fields in the moonlight not far from his house. He would sometimes join her and they would talk. Sometimes they would keep silent.
"I'm becoming predictable." Eden replied.
"Not necessarily a bad thing." he noted, stopping next to her and leaning against the stone wall.
"Where did I go wrong, Lawrence?" Eden asked quietly after some time, gazing out into the night, "I started to think that maybe... maybe I got a second chance... a way to change things... And now... I was foolish I guess..."
"They say 'ask and you shall be answered'. Though it rarely is the answer we want."
"Well, I'm a little tired of asking and being completely ignored."
"Well, if you don't ask at all, then why would you be surprised no one listens?"
Eden gave him an almost offended look.
"God isn't going to run after you asking if there's anything He can do for you, Eden. But He is watching what you do with the things you've been given."
Eden turned her gaze back across the cloister and chewed on the inside of her lip in thought, her heart and mind hacking away at themselves in their never-ending battles within the guardian.
"You know, I really hate it when you get all philosophical in the middle of the night." Eden finally answered with a slightly defeated sigh.
"Oh, really? Why?" he asked with a warm chuckle.
"Because it's when you actually make some sense. What's worse, you're usually right."
"Oh, an Achilles' heel if I ever saw one."
Eden nodded lightly and some time of silence feel upon them again.
"As boastful as it may sound, it's hard being the strongest person you know." the guardian said.
"Well, you can always lean on me, you know that." the Hospitaller said quietly, reaching his hand out, wrapping it around the warrior's shoulders and pulling her in gently.
"What happens if you can't carry my weight?" she murmured, leaning against him and wrapping her arm around his back.
"Well, that's why I'm leaning against the wall." he whispered, a smile stretching across his face.
Eden snorted lightly and they enjoyed the quiet night for a while.
"Eden, forgive me for this," Lawrence started quietly and cautiously, "but... I just don't know if she is worth your pain... I can't see anything after this."
"I know only two things," Eden started after a few moments, "the first is that this is where the road leads. And that, in the end, I don't matter."
Lawrence hung his head a little and rested it against Eden's.
"We all matter." he whispered.
Eden patted his back, but said nothing. She felt something pulling at her, like an invisible hand of fate that was pushing her down the road she was to go. She didn't think about it or debate over it; it was stronger than she was. So, having nothing else to do and nowhere else to go and very little strength to battle against God again, she decided to simply let everything run its course.
"I could-" Lawrence started.
"What was done, shall be done." Eden said very quietly.
Lawrence had learned that Eden's short philosophical statements never meant any good, especially for her, and he tightened his embrace.
Dorian planned the celebration of the announcement of their intent to marry with all the pomp and splendor he could come up with. He sent messengers to all the people of position, wealth, and title that he could think of with invitations to the gathering. Cooks, servants, and even the manor's guards were running back and forth getting everything ready, cleaning, arranging, decorating.
The bard felt uncomfortable with the display. It seemed to her that it was all more of a manifestation of his influence in the city than of his love for Arielle. No one asked her for her ideas or suggestions; she was simply left to observe the preparations. After a few hours, Dorian found her and told her what the celebration was supposed to look like. He listed the people invited, the planned entertainment, the order of meals. The longest of his instructions concerned Arielle- how she was to dress, behave, and what she was supposed to say. The bard looked at him as if she didn't quite understand what he meant by giving her a list of orders and not once asking what she thought or wanted. She took a deep breath and somewhat reluctantly decided to take a stand on one point.
"The challenge... could we perhaps do without it?" Arielle asked timidly.
Dorian glared at her and Arielle swallowed hard.
"We? It's not a challenge against us, but against me. So I'll decide if you don't mind."
"But Dorian, why can't it be a pleasant celebration?"
"What's so unpleasant about it?"
"The violence is unnecessary."
"The only thing unnecessary at the moment," Dorian began to growl, leaning into Arielle's face, "is your opinion, which I don't remember asking for. Just abide by my instructions and everything will be fine. Don't and... well, the challenge will probably be the least of your worries. Understand?"
Arielle nodded silently and took a step back as Dorian smirked coldly and turned to leave.
Arielle plodded off to her chambers where she spent the rest of the day pretending that none of it was really happening and that she was simply looking at everything childishly. She was an adult and life wasn't a story. She tried to convince herself that she could still be happy in the end, she just needed to keep faith.
Aldric had come by to announce that the celebrations would start soon and had her clothes brought in. They had never been able to finish their previous conversation; Dorian and his guards seemed to be keeping much better track of both of their whereabouts since that day. The blond sighed heavily and began to change. As she laced her dark blue dress, she realized how much she really didn't want to attend her own celebration. She simply didn't feel like celebrating. But something within her nudged her forward, telling her that she should go. Faith.
Once dressed in everything she was sent, Arielle left her chambers and made her way to the stairs. There Dorian was waiting for her and she could see a rather numerous crowd had already gathered in the entrance hall. Their dress and air told Arielle that there was no one there who was in any way beneath Dorian. The bard saw rich fabrics, intricate designs, exotic accessories, but not a single friendly face. It definitely was, she mused, her father's kind of crowd.
"Why not relax, my dearest, and enjoy the celebration. They are, after all, celebrating your good fortune." Dorian smirked after he let Arielle come to him.
"If they only knew what fortune I truly have." Arielle said in a quiet bitterness.
"Ah, a sentiment that everyone finds themselves saying at least once in their life. I guess this is your time." he quipped, deflecting the comment.
"Please, Dorian, please don't have a duel in my name." the bard nearly pleaded, "I would never ask for violence. It goes against everything I believe in."
"You can't seem to understand," Dorian replied, taking Arielle's hands in his strong ones and squeezing them more than was necessary, "that you are in no position to tell me what to do. Nor does it interest me. You will be my wife, not the other way around. And the faster you learn that little lesson, the less painful it will be."
Arielle clamped her jaw as his fingers dug into her palms. He gave her a self-satisfied grin and menacing glare and then turned to the crowd with a smile.
"As my family tradition demands, on this night, on the eve of my marriage, I challenge anyone who deems me unworthy of this maiden to a duel. Pray, who will defy me?!" he shouted and the crowd cheered.
Arielle felt lost and alone. She was in a manor full of people who would never stand up for her even if she was being held at the point of Dorian's sword. It made her feel more trapped than she ever had felt and it was demeaning and shaming. She wanted to be free and soar and now she had her wings clipped and was being treated like a prize in some half-rate competition. The idea infuriated a part of her, but her heavy heart only sighed in defeat, knowing that she had foolishly brought in on herself. She saw no way out anyway.
"Just as I presumed. There are no-" Dorian started arrogantly, turning to the sad bard, but then stopped and turned back to the crowd.
A silent, dark gray knight had appeared from out of the crowd and stood in the middle of the hall, fully armed, sword drawn, patiently waiting.
"Do you challenge me, strange knight?" Dorian asked in surprise.
The knight nodded.
"What is your name?"
No answer.
"You say nothing, you have no markings or banner. And you expect me to duel with you? And for her?" Dorian asked mockingly and the knight saw the bard's face drop at the mention of her.
The knight still said nothing, but pointed at Dorian with raised sword. Then the captivated crowd watched the sword being swung and thrust in all kinds of directions only to end up pointed at Dorian again.
"No one will mock me in my own home!" Dorian roared and snapped for his squire and servants who busily readied and suited him.
Once he was ready, he put on his helmet and stood across from the gray knight. They saluted each other and began to duel furiously, but it was rather easy to see that Dorian was no match for the gray knight. The manor filled with the gasps of ladies, cheers of men, and the sharp clangs of the two swords. Dorian finally ended up on the floor, on his back, the gray knight's sword at his throat and a mailed foot on his chest. Dorian raised his hands in concession and after what seemed like a moment's hesitation, the knight backed off. From the beginning, Arielle wondered who the knight was that had fought so well and who would want to risk humiliation or even their life for her. When the dark gray knight turned around and started putting the sword back in its plain sheath, Dorian got to his feet quickly and angrily dusted off his hands.
"Seize him!" Dorian cried and all the guards in the vicinity threw themselves on the knight.
The gray knight didn't resist much, covered in a swarm of angry guards and was pushed and dragged into Dorian's presence.
"Now we will see who was foolish enough to challenge me." he said and roughly pulled the helmet off, gasping with the rest of the astonished crowd.
"You mean who defeated you in a fair fight." Eden said, staring at him coldly, a sarcastic grin on her face.
Arielle felt her heart stop and soar at the same time, her stomach dropping and her legs beginning to shake. She placed her hand against on the stone railing to support herself for fear of fainting.
"You..." Dorian snarled viciously, "You really thought you could win?"
"You really thought that you could just take her?"
"And now what?" Dorian cried with laughter, throwing his arms into the air, "You're not strolling out of her with her on your arm. Are you going to pummel me with your bare fists now? Is that your great plan?"
The crowd rippled with arrogant snorts, but the warrior's face betrayed no emotion.
"Oh no, Dorian. You're much too delicate for that." Eden drawled.
A small murmur of chuckles now rolled through the crowd and Dorian grew red with fury. He took two large steps towards the warrior and backhanded her in the face.
"You vagabond! You alley scum! I have a very grand plan for you, you reckless wench." he snarled and then leaned in and hissed into her ear, "I was hoping you would come, you pathetic slop."
"I know, you thick-witted bastard." Eden hissed in reply.
Dorian took a couple of steps back and motioned for the guards to take her away. He turned on his heel and returned his attention to his guests and began to usher them all into the dining hall, laughing the whole situation off. In the meantime, Arielle had made her way down the stairs and through the crowd to where Eden was. When Dorian had already walked off and the guards began to pull Eden away, the bard broke away from the crowd and told the main guard to stop.
"My lady?" he asked in gruff confusion.
Arielle ignored him and instead let her gaze rest on the guardian who couldn't seem to look at her. There was a tempest of emotions raging through her heart and chest, making it hard to think and breathe. She couldn't believe Eden was there, that she had come back, that she had fought... all for the bard.
"Eden..." she whispered in fear that what she was saying wasn't true, wanting to raise her hand and stroke the warrior's cheek to prove she was real, "did you... come back... for... for me?..."
There was too much to say. There was too much to explain. And there was the fact that she might not live to prove any of it. So Eden only raised her eyes to met the bard's. Her gaze told the bard all the words that the warrior couldn't say and Arielle could feel a lump rising in her throat as she began to see the answer to her question. The guards finally grew impatient and grabbed Eden roughly, pulling her away and down the corridor before Arielle could do or say anything more. The bard watched the warrior growing distant and wondered for a moment why Eden wasn't struggling or putting up a fight. She could have easily taken down everyone in that manor. Why are you going so willingly?...
Arielle stood like a pillar, her feet frozen to the floor, watching Eden finally fade from view. She felt so empty that she could almost swear that her heartbeat echoed in the hollow confines of her chest. And even after the guardian had disappeared, she still stood there almost as if she was waiting for Eden to come back.
"Where are they taking her?" Arielle asked quietly, feeling her steward standing behind her.
"To the dungeons. My lord has his own..." Aldric answered just as quietly.
A heavy silence hung over them.
"I'm... I'm very sorry, my lady." Aldric whispered.
"So am I." she whispered back.
"Come, my sweet," Dorian coaxed with feigned care, "tell us all a story."
He led the bard by the hand to the middle of the dining hall, in front of the tables where she could be heard and seen by everyone. She faced the Marshall and Chaplain of Jerusalem and the king's brother. Arielle curtsied and they all gave a faint, single nod of recognition. She gave the whole room a slightly nervous scan and noticed that most of the looks she was getting were at the utmost neutral. She swallowed hard. She flipped through the stories in her mind only to notice with increasing anxiety that not a single story came to mind. Not a single suitable story, that is.
Before the dinner began, Dorian had told that he would want her to perform so that she could show that she had at least something near a talent other than having fair hair. But he had warned with a hiss in her ear that she wasn't to talk about anything that had to do with Eden. A slightly throbbing bruise on her upper arm reminded her of that warning. There was the story of the jinn, the torrential rain, the gray guardian, the fight with the Turks, and all the Zauba'a tales. There was also the story of running through dandelions, racing along the shore, learning to swim, and being pulled from Death's grasp. A heaviness filled Arielle's heart and she realized something that horrified her to the core. Eden was gone and she had taken her stories, her real, true stories with her.
"Go on, dear," Dorian persisted, barely holding his temper, "Our distinguished guests are waiting and you seem to think that this celebration is going to last forever."
A few murmured chuckles arose amongst the guests. Arielle swallowed a lump in her throat, took a breath, and began to tell a story. She told it despite not feeling it at all, despite her friend being held somewhere under the floor against her will, despite wanting to run away as far as she possibly could. She caught the dark vengeance in Dorian's eyes when she recounted the night the supposed Saracens attacked them in the desert. But the menace faded when he realized that Arielle had eliminated Eden from the story and made Dorian the brave hero. He gave her a cold grin. I'm sorry, Eden...