✧･ﾟ:*When the sword is drawn from the stone, hope blooms within the rebellion.
But fates and destinies are fickle things and with the legend of the sword being fulfilled, another prophecy becomes set into motion.
Renly has been a part of the rebel...
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Bedevere sat stiffly in the empty war room.
He looked tired and lost as he stared into the fire lighting the candle sitting on the table.
'Your death will make the true-born heir, a king'
Renly's prophecy echoed through his head, the gravelly voice of the mage was grating at his mind. Her screams still rang in his ears. She had only been gone for three hours, but when she got back from the darklands something within her had changed.
No.
He corrected himself, his hands making a fist.
It had died.
The eyes that had looked back up at him as he tended to her injuries on the boat ride back had lost the fire that had been raging within them since the day he'd met her. As if the flames had been extinguished, only water as calm as the one they sailed across remained. It had terrified him when he realized what it was...
Acceptance.
Bedevere had not allowed himself to consider the possibility of the prophecy being set in stone. He had thought, as he watched Renly prepare to enter the darklands, that she would come back with a solution.
Not acceptance.
Now he was sat in the war room, a raging fire burning below his skin, and rage flowing through his veins.
That was how Goosefat Bill had found him, brooding in the darkness of the cave room.
"What happened?" He asked carefully as he approached, Rubio had informed him that they were back but did not elaborate on how things had gone. There had however been a look in the boy's eyes that had Goosefat's heart clench.
Bedevere did not move his head or greet him, merely continuing to stare at the candle's flame. He did not wish to speak about it, not yet, not before he had a solution.
"I saw her, she looks like she just came out of hell itself." He continued when Bedeveere made no move to speak.
The other man could not help the way his body shuddered at his words.
Her screams getting louder and louder in his head.
Bedevere pushed himself away from the table with such force that the chair he'd been sitting on clattered to the floor behind him, he did not even seem to register the sound as he began to pace.
"She has given up." The words felt like poison on his tongue as he spat them out.
A humorless laugh escaped him.
"Renly, our Renly, has given up." There was something so entirely inconceivable about it that it sounded ridiculous even to his own ears. "She won't fight."
