(English!) The Rose and The Bleeding Stag

Compromises

Compromises

LOUIS' POV

That day seemed to have no end. That long walk up to the tent seemed to have no end. I felt alone, in that moment, lonely as I had never felt before, alone with my thoughts, with what I had inside, alone with something I did not know, that I could not control. It never happened to me, not until then. Njall and Zygvarr had always been a safe haven for me, a foothold, my stick even on the steplest and slippy soils of my life. But the fact that neither of them had understood what I was feeling at that time, the fact that they both underestimated my feelings made me feel like a child to whom they have lifted his favourite toy. And what made me even more irascible and vulnerable at the time was that I couldn't understand myself. It had happened other times, but that feeling had faded in a matter of seconds, usually thanks to some distraction, something that would turn my mind away from those little details that pushed me to think of myself, to what I really was. The thing was that I did not like to think about myself, I did not like to analyze what I had inside, to vivisize my thoughts and my emotions. Lightness was my best feature, yet at that moment I felt that I could not let go of that swirl of emotions and reflections.

I kept squeezing that flower in my hands. I did not know it, I had never seen it, and to make it even more singular there was the fact that, apparently, that Flower was the only one that had managed to grow in that green expanse that I had recently left behind.

When I had entered the tent, the rain had now completed its intent: I was soggy. Drops of water were draining down from my brown hair, from my pale face and from my clothes.

I would have changed soon, but first there was something I had to take care of. With one last step, I reach the entrance and I got the sheepskin hanging on the wooden beam, so I could make my entrance. In the corner, the boy stood still in the same position in which I had left him that morning. Not that he had many options, for that matter. He was still bound to that bed, and the fever caused by that wound had to have dragged him into a sleep so deep that he hadn't even noticed my presence in there. Quickly, I freed myself of my kyrtill, the wool over-tunic that I usually wore, and, later, also of the now damp tunic that covered my chest. I leaned on my knees, and began to tinker with the tools necessary to light a fire, whose spark revived in a few moments, warming as much as possible that environment that had become cold and humid. I then stood up, and slowly rested the red flower on a wooden bench, right next to the boy's couch. I took advantage of his momentary sleep to stay there a few seconds, looking at him... Brown hair, curly, spread gently on the fabric of white cloth that covered that straw, and his body, now completely relaxed, stretched for a long portion of that bed. His height was one of the things that struck me when, on the evening of the attack, he had approached me furiously. Now, asleep and completely relaxed, however, he did not seem at all the Prince-warrior who had attempted to kill me that evening. His lips were red and full, slightly unclosed to allow his breath to caress them. His pronounced jawline was now relaxed and his eyes, which I knew to be of an emerald colour, were closed, adorned with long lashes that made him look like a child. His breath was regular, and his skin was white, almost snow-like. I glanced over a flap of the fabric of his robe, sticking out from under the blanket that enveloped him, noticing an interesting detail. That garment seemed to be made of a very fine cloth that I had never seen before, but to draw my attention was a red and golden embroidery, on the collar of that long robe of dark blue colour. It seemed to be the embroidery of a flower, and I raised an eyebrow, surprised when I noticed that it was just like the one I had collected little time before in those fields and that over and over again I had dreamed. I stood to observe him for a few seconds, baffled by that strange coincidence and I realized I had stretched a hand on his garment only when, perceying my slight touch, the lad awoke to jerk, lifting himself on his elbows in a swift movement as was as Lightning, making me jump and lift to my feet.