Requiem for a King [MxM]

Memory, All Alone

Gavrael startled as a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to see the smiling face of Kaya and exhaled a breath. "You took about a decade off my life."

She breathed a laugh, dark eyes twinkling with amusement. "Sorry. You looked a little lost."

"Well..." Gavrael looked up and down the street he'd been traversing for the past hour. It ran between the Ansel Manor and the guard's barracks. The dogwood trees that lined it on either side were sprouting new leaves, and patches of grass dotted the otherwise bare ground.

He'd spent the better part of the morning out amongst the heather knolls to the west of the city, looking for the horses that ran away during the attack. Meanwhile, Quintus had run off before Gavrael had even woken up. He'd mentioned penning a letter to send off the night before.

"I was actually looking for you," Gavrael continued. "I wanted to return this." He held up the sword he'd "borrowed" from the guard the morning of the attack.

"How about you keep it," Kaya said with a shrug. "Consider it a gesture of good faith." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Put it to good use." And continued on her way.

Gavrael looked down at the sword, ran his fingers along the engraving on the wooden sheathe. It was as good a souvenir as any. He and Quintus would leave Ewell at dawn the next day, though they had yet to chart their next course.

"We'll just wander around until you remember yourself," Quintus had said the night before. "Then you owe me a barrel of ale and a new coat."

The idea of remembering himself filled him with a bittersweet feeling. On one hand, he wanted to feel less lost. On the other, it meant his escapades with Quintus would end. And he didn't want it to end just yet. After their few weeks on the road, he knew Quintus was a free spirit who was beholden to no master and loyal to no place. He'd fly off to his next adventure as soon as Gavrael was home and settled—or safely on his way.

And what will I be doing? He frowned. Perhaps he'd be a guard, protecting someone important. The sword had felt right in his hands. When he'd launched himself into that netherborne, he'd done so without a second thought. Like it was his duty to protect.

Gavrael entered the manor a few minutes later and navigated the halls up to the south loft. He met the room empty and guessed Quintus was still meeting with Lady Ansel. The dregs of their breakfast had been removed by the house staff and the widow had been thrown open to let the stale air out of the room. He dropped the sword next to his bag and crossed to the window.

The south lawn of the manor was dedicated to the stables and enclosure where Lady Ansel's thoroughbreds pranced around. Ewell had made a business of breeding and training horses for war. He'd ridden and guided a few of them back to the manor. The stable hands and doctors were checking them over for injuries.

As Gavrael watched the horses prancing around, the scene melted away. The grounds shifted, grass sprang up in fluffy patches, a path shot through it and geraniums bloomed along it. The window morphed from an arch to a square and stretched higher than he was tall. Along the garden path walked his wife Elaine and High Priest Lazarus, talking and laughing.

"I don't trust them," Genevieve said.

Gavrael turned his gaze from the window to his mother. Her eyes were glassy, as though she was on the brink of tears. She grabbed the bracer around his arm with both hands. "Promise me you'll never take it off."

The walls of her room collapsed, and trees sprang up from the ground. A carriage rolled up behind her, with guards carrying travelling bags. She let go of his bracer. "Have a safe trip, son"

Gavrael looked down, but didn't see his mother's hands. Instead, he saw his own, holding a sword. When he looked up again, a little girl with matted black hair and eyes wide with fear, her hands bound with thick rope. He tried to tuck the sword behind the rope, but his movements were sluggish, as though he was underwater.