It always was his least favorite aspect of the fighting life, to be dulled by pain and wounds all across his body. He could bear it, without a doubt, but it never did cease to displease him. Battle came only naturally given the ways of the world, but it was merely his means to bring about his dream, not the dream itself.
Lightly blood-tinged locks of hair poked through the bandages smothering much of his upper head. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he likened the sight to new spring grass pushing its way through sparse winter soil, coming up through the cracks of the earth to herald a beauty most wonderful. The bandages covered only the top portion of his head, and were intended primarily for the particularly awful wound on his scalp.
The warm, homely feeling still persisted in his chest when he thought of how Roderika had tended to him following his battle with Godrick… how they had embraced each other. It never left him; he never wanted it to.
She methodically pulled the final strip of cloth across his midsection and packed it in tightly, ensuring it would not come undone. The bandages were soaked in honey and introduced a tingling, pleasant sensation upon his various cuts. "... that'll be the last of the bandages for you. How does it feel?"
It touched him how… caring she was.
In all of my voyage, not only through the Lands Between but the world as a whole, I had never felt the tenderness from others that I made effort to give to them. It did not stop me, but… it did pain me. Does pain me.
Never, until a certain golden-haired (and golden-hearted, perhaps) maiden entered.
These bandages covered much of his torso. Their tight wrap gave him a feeling like he were being hugged; it only made him think of when he was actually being hugged not very long before. "This is… wonderful. Truly marvelous, what can be done by nimble hands. I feel better already to be in such fine care."
"I'm glad. I never was one for patching battle-wounds, in all honesty… I can't imagine I've done it perfectly, but…"
"You have done very well, Roderika. Thank you… once again. I know not how properly I might have done this by myself, if I had even been able to."
Her smile, as it reached a full bloom, set the room ablaze more brilliantly than the fireplace which crackled in the night. The flame's light subtly bounced off of the muted surface of the metal armor, which was laid up in a neat pile by the doorway.
As Roderika turned away to gaze at the logs being eaten up in the fireplace, Arthur supposed that he could not simply let the two of them dwell in silence. There were sentiments unshared and thoughts unspoken.
"I always preferred a fireplace to a bonfire… though the latter I've used much more given my way of life. Bonfires draw attention from whatever may be skulking in the woods unbeknownst to us. Fireplaces are always indoors… always safe. That sense of safety is what I cherish most when I find it… even if just for one night."
She turned back to face him and stepped closer.
"Oh? I'm glad you've got it now, then. You certainly earned it."
"It never lasts beyond daybreak, though. The morning sun is the sign that I must continue on my journey… leave the place of peace I've found myself in. A very funny thing… the risen sun, a symbol of hope for the strugglers of the night, is an ominous thing for me at times. I sometimes dread it."
He lifted his head to look up at her and a fond smile overtook his face. "Bonfires are the friends of those who never have known a true home. A fellow I sat with once, a mercenary of a usually-terse nature with a sword even larger than my own… he said that, within his band of soldiers, he once felt he could see the dreams of his fellows flickering in the campfire lights from a hill overlooking their camp."
His attention moved back to the fireplace. He stared into it, as though he would find the proper words to say in its burning.
"Their hopes… ambitions… longings… all took shape within the undulating flame. 'A bonfire of dreams', he dubbed it. Even if they met their end on the battlefield, their dreams were etched into the flame. To have a dream and to share it with nobody sounds lonely, does it not? I always wished to… share mine with somebody who would understand it, not as the quest of a Tarnished or a knight but the desires of a fellow man."
"Arthur, that is…"
"… silly, is it not? I have never confided this in anybody. I imagine it sounds… rather pathetic. My apologies."
Roderika took a step closer and sat beside him on the bed.
"It sounds the opposite of that. It's… beautiful. I… want to know your dream. Please… tell me."
"... you bring me a feeling of safety far greater than my armor and blade."
"Hmm?"
"Safety is my dream… my dream for the world. Part of my dream, I should say. I see men who do not fight and have no need to, and I think that all men should be so blessed. All men should be better off than I. This warrior's life… fighting for a quest out of moral duty and conviction… I will live it to the last breaths of my lungs, even if marred by blood, but it pains me to know what I sacrifice to do so."
Roderika wished that he never had to fight again… hearing how much his efforts weighed upon him. She was sure that he wished so, too, and the fact that he continued to fight regardless said something large about his character.
"This is the first night in a… long while where my sword has not rested by my feet as I set in. The first in the same while where my armor did not push into me as I closed my eyes and tried to find any reason that I should continue beyond pure duty."
His smile faded slightly, though happiness still existed in it.
She shook her head slightly. "I had no idea… though I didn't imagine the travelling life to be kind to you."
Arthur's expression darkened slightly, but he smiled on still.
"Yes, that way of life is… not for those who feel no affection towards what they champion. I have never once doubted that my goal is a righteous one… though I am unsure of whether I am the one who may truly fulfill it."
"You are. Please don't doubt yourself… you've proven it to me… so what will it take to prove it to yourself?"
"Make no mistake about it, I will not abandon my duty. This is an admission of weakness, not defeat. In all truth, I am… so very tired… Roderika. Tired already. I sleep scarcely, rest little and fight often. My claymore is to me what a hammer is to a carpenter - his very means of survival. Perhaps all that I know to do is fight for my life… as opposed to living it."
He arose from the bed, which was slightly indented by his dwelling on it for the past two hours, and strode towards the exit of the room, bending down upon one knee before the greatsword leaned against the doorway. His index finger sailed down the flat of its iron blade. This claymore was previously coated a hundred times over with blood whose spots never were properly washed, untreated chips and gashes running all along both edges of its long blade. It still maintained a somewhat-serviceable cutting edge through all of this damage; a remnant of nobler days for it.
So long as I have my way… it will endure until the end. Perhaps all that it can do is endure… perhaps all that I can do is endure.
"This is only the first leg of my struggle, and on occasion I find myself too exhausted to do what I must. This faltering nature of mine has tied me to the stake… I cannot fly… but, bear-like, I must fight the course. That is my quest. I must follow it… even should ruin halt my sword and rot my armor. Better to be untimely taken in battle and die once than resign and die every day thereafter as a doddering old man."
"The worst of it… is not the fatigue from swinging my sword around, and feeling as others swing their swords against me, battering my armor and my chest within it… it is setting in by the burnt-out fire for the night as the rain pours down and finding that nothing has changed. For all of my trying, I am still all alone… still contending with fate by myself. That is what saps me of my vigor."
Roderika's heart broke for him when she processed these words. Even before she was done, she could sense the raw emotion he was choosing to show within them. His failings… his exhaustions… his wishes. It's a terrifying thing to expose yourself and your vulnerabilities to another… but it's more terrifying still never to do so at all.
She had an idea.
"In this journey you're on, I could… come with you."
Arthur immediately shook his head.
"No. I could not permit it. You were in danger once… danger of being taken by Godrick. You need not be in it again. Though he lies dead by my hand, he is not the only monster in this world; in fact, he was likely tamer amongst them. My life is a… a solitary one, often. It is one I am used to. I need no comfort… all I wish for is the knowledge that my actions had meaning. That my efforts bore fruit. If you were to be harmed because I could not protect you… that would… no."
'He says he needs no comfort, and maybe he believes it, but I couldn't. Not for a second. He's only a man, though a great one, and all men need comfort. That much I know.'
She felt emboldened… and she resolved to take that feeling for all it was worth.
"You're wrong, you know. Saying you need no comfort. It's not true. If it were… why did you hold me earlier? You… you wanted to be held in return, didn't you?"
He shook his head, though Roderika felt it was much more to deny it to himself rather than her. "I was simply caught in the joy and passion of the moment. I never meant to give the impression that I was… needing anything."
She made her way to him; the minor creak of the floorboard prompted him to shift his sight up towards her. The knight was still kneeling beside his greatsword, looking it over and feeling its cold metal upon his finger. His armor sat in a pile beside it. He felt naked just by virtue of not having its heavy weight upon his shoulders, and his claymore within his gauntleted hand.
"If you were… there would be nothing wrong in it. Do you understand? There's no shame to be found in it."
"Knights need not run into the arms of the maidens they service for comfort and solace. It is true that I said, earlier, that I was no knight… it is still not my title to wear, but its code I must strive towards. I can stand on my own… I have, and I can; therefore I must. So long as I may pull my helm over my head and lift my sword to the sky, I know I can continue to survive."
"What about living, Arthur?"
"..."
He looked down. The knight had no answer other than the one he dreaded to give.
"What do you know about it? You never took the time to do it, did you? To let up on your journey, if only for a night, and breathe."
Wistfully, his head hung low, vision cast to the floor as he replied with a solemn tone. "Some of the joys we wish for most… simply are never in the cards. I was born into the sword… I live through the sword… and I'll surely die by it. That is what I know."
"You handed me the keepsake of my men, and… I can feel their spirits attached to it. I stepped out of the room not long after we… kissed each other, and… I saw them as I held it in the palm of my hand. My men, they linger on, and they tell me how they believe in me. Even now, in my pocket, I can feel the aura of afterlife radiating from it… but despite this, they're gone."
A small tear scorched the corner of her left eye; she wiped it away quickly.
"They speak still, but they will never know life again. They were robbed of the chance to live further… would it please you to suffer the same thing? Do you want to know nothing other than swinging your sword around? Please… I know you're strong, but strength doesn't come from might, or prowess… it's heart. Have the heart to live. Immerse yourself in the world and live… don't hide away from it by resolving only to exist."
She stepped closer once more, kneeling beside him, and she locked eyes with him all the while. Hers pierced him, but not with the coldness or hostility that typically allows such a thing. No, it was with understanding and devotion that they cut through the armor. Though he was currently bare of chest, iron still covered his heart, wrought around it to shield the precious dream which lay inside. The dream of a brighter morning which may come tomorrow, and a brighter morning which may come after that. The armor was pierced, but the lance stopped short of the heart. It never intended to go so far as that.
"You are a knight… but you are also a man. You're neither wholly one nor half of each… you're simply both. You say that you're no knight, over and over, yet you impose the weight of the knightly armor and duties upon yourself. Do not forsake your quest, because it's richer in purpose and possibility than almost any other… but do not forsake your human experience, either."
"..."
"Arthur, you're more than the iron in your armor… or the pain in your heart. Let yourself be so. Please… show me everything that you feel, and I'll support you. You're my knight in shining armor… take it off and be all that you suppressed in yourself. All you feared. All you desired."
He swore that he heard a single whisper follow her words.
"Give me your heart… I'll give you mine."
"Alright."
This reply was terse, but it was only so that he would not accidentally betray his true feelings by bringing them out into view.
It was never going to work.
A single molten teardrop streaked down Arthur's face. Another followed, and another followed another. A congregation of them cascaded down, and he ceased to battle them, for even with his greatsword he could not hope to defeat them. His helm could hide the tears, but not dry his face.
"Alright… alright…", he uttered as he wept. He fell backwards from the doorway, and from his knightly equipment, and uselessly wiped at his eyes with his forearms. Despite his best efforts to maintain a stoic countenance, he was shattered open, and the both of them knew it.
'Thank you. This is all I asked for… your true heart, unburdened by iron… unweighed by duty.'
As the crying slowed into a sporadic tearfall, he lowered his hands and dared to look to her again, expecting some pitying look or disappointed expression for his release of anguish. None to be found. There was only devotion in her eyes and arms wrapped around his torso. He threw his around her in an instant, and her hair came up against his cheek as they leaned into the embrace.
The sensation was still as soothing and lovely as it was only hours ago. He went to bring his right hand to a higher spot on her back, only to remember the gauntlets. They still remained upon him. He had slipped them back on a second time even after his cuirass was removed, as he felt too naked without them, too vulnerable… but to be naked is better than to smother oneself.
He pulled away, tossed the gauntlets onto the pile of armor some three feet away from him and took Roderika's gloved hand in his.
A whisper stood out amid the crackling of the fireplace across the room. "May I… take your gloves off?"
Roderika nodded. He set her leather gloves by her side and took her slender hands in his, intertwining every finger and coming palm-to-palm. The heat emanating from this contact was vastly different from that of a campfire in the night, or the flame which scorched his armor by Godrick's doing. It was like not anything else he had experienced.
Is this… all that I missed? It… all of it… feels so new. The tears washed away everything… something new has begun. I feel it in my bones and in my soul.
Arthur looked up into her eyes, and saw something more than he expected. It was nothing in the color or hue that was strange, but… in the gaze. The stare. The contact.
Is this 'something new'... with her, as well? Need it be only for myself? Is this look in her eyes new, as well… or did I simply never notice it? Would I have thrown this from the palm of my hand had she not told me she had placed it there?
He placed his left hand, calloused but set tenderly, on her cheek. He leaned in at a slow pace, and, some several inches from her, paused to wait for any objections… an unsure eye, any verbal clarifications of different feelings, or physical signs of discomfort. None. There was… a nod. A smile.
Knight Arthur culminated the movement and pressed his lips to hers, careful not to smash against her in his eager motion. Equally inexperienced, she was taken by surprise (though not too much surprise) when he did so, glad that she managed not to instinctively bite down upon his tongue in it. Their foreheads came close to being shunted together all throughout, and at a point or two it did gently happen.
Her left hand remained engulfed in his right, and his left now caressed her cheek. Roderika's free hand placed itself on his shoulder, not in the position of pushing him away, but in pulling him very slightly closer.
He happily obliged.
Arthur had barely any idea of what should be done with his tongue, other than that he shouldn't just shove it down her throat, but it was alright because Roderika had no clue either. The sentiment mattered more than the physicality; it was what the kiss represented, not how it felt. This was not just a kiss, not just a courtship… it was a shedding of the armor that he wore. It may have been stacked into a pile in the corner hours before, but he had not stepped out from it. In these moments and hereafter, he abandoned it for her. That is what love is; to be tender when the world is rough and to trust if you cannot believe.
Is this… love? We scarcely know each other… but could these moments be its beginnings?
Though he was afraid, perhaps as afraid on the battlefield, it did feel right, in a lot of ways. This was tender, and slow, and mutual… like all relationships should be. Like he imagined romance to be, in its ideal form. He scarcely imagined that he would be involved in it so soon.
Lips parted. Hands dwelled within each other, mingled and connected and stuck willfully. Tears dried, if they had not long dried already, and the room seemed just a bit brighter.
The coming-together, strange and right and fast and just slow enough to matter beyond feelings, ended for the time being, but Arthur and Roderika remained joined in the eyes. Their smiles shone there; even if only the top-halves of their faces were visible, nobody could miss the overwhelming happiness in them. The eyes are, indeed, the windows to the soul, and no blinds were drawn here.