Capítulo 23: Chapter 23:
"I told you I'm f-hummpff*"
"Less talking more eating."
Arthas pouted as he chewed at his food. His full cheeks and childish face, was too much to ignore that Cersei ended up laughing at him.
"Yeah.... keep laughing. You know once I get out of here I will pamper you in public you know. So much so, that you would be so embarrassed to ever step outside without an escort or something." Arthas said smugly.
Cersei could only shake her head at the blatant attempt. But sadly for Arthas she had grown used to it.
After making sure his plate was done, she crawled to his side and then embracing him as she then slowly leaned back while keeping his head on her bussom. After getting comfortable enough, she started running her hand through his hair as they both simply relished in each other's presence.
It had only been two weeks. Arthas had woken days after their return. And the news of his men's death truly did weighed heavily on him.
Even as she held him, Cersei could tell that he was still too rigid. Far from the aloof, calm and proud personality that he once exuded.
"Guilt. So much guilt that he doesn't know of he truly deserves to move forward." said Uther.
Cersei didn't like it. She believed that the people should be greatful that their men died with honor. That it was more than what most knights had before being forgotten beneath the dirt. Not only that, they were given compensation great enough for their families to pick up their lives even in the absence of their men.
Still, she was an observer from the sidelines. She's not a Knight and so she never truly voiced her thoughts out. But she could tell that Arthas is in pain. And it irked her that she could do nothing for him but hold him, be there for him, comfort him and simply wait.
It was a dreading feeling, a feeling of uselessness. It made her feel so weak in her bones. Powerless and forced to simply watch. And she hated it.
Uther gave her assurance that he would pull through just like he seemed to have done before. She cannot help but think that he needs a slap in the face and order him to simply move on. That it wasn't his fault. That they all made their choices.
She sighed dejectedly as she once again remembered what Sif had said
"He doesn't need us to tell him something he already knows. A man may know what is true but that still doesn't mean that accepting it would be easy."
Time. That was all he needed...and all she could give.
Looking down she could see that he has fallen asleep. His breath is even, his heartbeat is calm. There is a small scrunch up his nose and brows but compared to how he was before, he looked far calmer than he is. His face is returning to color, his cheeks are filling, his hair is getting straighter once more, and his body is recovering. It was great news all around. If anything, he is recovering at a very rapid pace according to the Maester. A fact that baffled the maester from time to time but she couldn't care less.
"...as long as you are safe..." she whispered.
"...how is he?..."
Cersei then turned to the door and saw Sif. She frowned after seeing her, she has obviously been training judging by her trousers and tunics that could barely contain her form and the wear, tear and dirt that blemished it further emphasized her diligence. She had seen men train and still she looked worst for wear than them.
"You have been gone for a while. Are you alright?" Cersei asked.
"I am. Just...needed a distraction that's all."
"I don't blame you, everyone is doing that now a days... even me."
Sif then crawled behind her and held her softly. Though Cersei isn't as comfortable with the woman as much as she had hoped to be, she at least isn't questioning the situation as much as she used to.
"How goes his lessons?" asked Sif.
"It is going well. He is an incredibly fast learner. Though to be honest, he is a hair shy of a genius. But knowledgeable than most heirs and more eager to learn than any other men I've known." Cersei said with a slight joy and pride in her lips. But that soon turned to a frown as she continued. "Just to let you know, he didn't like most of what he heard." Cersei said with defeat in her voice.
"...do you think it would be a problem for the future?"
"...yes... I can say for sure he would abide by the laws of the Kingdoms but..."
"But not it's morals. And if forced to choose, he would choose the latter." Sif whispered with worry evident in her voice.
Cersei could only sigh as she herself came to the same conclusion.
Arthas had made his displeasure known with regards to some of the laws that binds the Seven Kingdoms. And even though he tried to understand most of them, it was clear where he stood regarding a few of them.
And Cersei is clearly worried because of several of them. Though he understood it's a patriarchal society, he refused to simply discard the rights of the common folk. This was a huge piece of their society that has turned to a headache when she had tried and failed to impart it's importance to him. Because as far as she knows, most men stretching from mercenaries to knights and to lords do take their liberties with regards to their people. And she is certain that he would get into trouble with the aforementioned sort of people which is basically most of those who govern.
"He'll be fine." whispered Sif. "We'll be right beside him all the way won't we?"
Cersei had a brief flash of memories. Her life as a Lannister, it's privileges, it's wealth and the power it's name commanded. She felt a slight sense of elation at the mere memories. But before the cold touch of greed and desire could take root, she shook the images off and as soon as she did she felt a pang of guilt and disgust towards herself for still craving the life she had already lost.
"...yeah..." she answered weakly knowing the futility of lyings. Still, she felt ashamed forcing her head down and failing to look at the face of her beloved right at her embrace.
Behind her sat Sif, who suddenly looked down at her coldly. Disappointment, anger and doubt filled her. She had known of the girl's feelings, she just never voiced them out as she believes that Cersei needed more time. But now that their Lord is bedridden and weakened and at the lowest time of his life where he needed them the most. She can't help but feel angry at the little girl for failing to live up to her own words.
Again, she said nothing. Keeping her worries to herself, hoping that it would all change soon.
*knock! *knock! *knock!
They both turned to the soft footfalls of Mordred who had just arrived. They simply gave each other a small nod of acknowledgement as Mordred laid her head as Arthas chest, with her ears pressed against his heart.
Arthas then sighed softly all of a sudden. Feeling his relief, they were then engulfed by a soft, serene and comfortable silence. One which all of them reveled in. Completely discarding all of their worries and thoughts and simply laid down in each others embrace.
~~~ Break ~~~
Rickard Stark slowly and carefully rolled the parchment in his hand. Softly tying it with a ribbon and then carefully laid down in a box.
A box in which he locked with the key hanging off his neck hidden beneath his tunic.
After making sure that the parchments were safe only then did he sigh in relief sitting down.
He began to ponder on what he had just read and felt both overwhelmed, frightened, hopeful and excited all at the same time.
Arthas' knowledge with regards to Farming Practices in which he called 'Agriculture' is astonishing. Knowledge that humbles even the minds of Maesters and Farmers alike. But it wasn't only farming practices that he felt excited to pursue but also the existence of technology that seemed to have been birthed from the minds of the finest of the Grand Maesters and forged by the greatest smith in both sides of the Narrow Sea.
All of this written by a knight. The absurdity of it made it looked as if the institution that have spearheaded the betterment of The Seven Kingdoms through medicine and discovery seemed as if a gathering of old men playing lords.
But there is one piece of hidden knowledge within that he crave. A piece of knowledge that he knew would save all of the North.
Glass Making.
Rickard clenched his fist tightly at the mere thought of it. The techniques in how to create it is only partially there and the ingredients though implied was removed all together. But the message was clear enough, he knows them. Arthas knows... and he would have it.
Hearing a chair scrape against the wooden floor took his attention. He then regarded the two other people that occupied his room. His son Eddard and his Master-At-Arms Rodrick Cassel.
While Eddard is pacing back and forth Rodrick was rooted and pale where he sat.
"Tell me, what do you think?"
"Forgive me mi'lord but I truly cannot offer any form of proper advice on this."
"Truly?"
"...aye... What you had just shown us is incredible in it's own. But to think that... I am sorry. I just can't wrap my head around it.... All the possibilities, all that it offers. By the Old gods, it's... It is too much to ponder mi'lord."
Rickard nodded at his answer. It was honest and true. Just having one Glass Garden is a gift beyond measure for the North in itself but the mere possibility of there being more is more akin to a dream than reality.
'...if we could feed our people. If we need not fear starvation during winter and build up our coffers and population. Then the treasures of The North could finally be explored.' Rickard thought with excitement.
For thousands of years House Stark had held on to secrets privy only to it's Kings. Waiting for the time in which it could finally be put to good use. If they could have at least two more glass gardens then...
"...we must bind them. And soon..." whispered Eddard. It was soft enough to be heard but even Rickard could hear the certainty in his words when he said it.
"You agree." asked Rickard.
"Father, only our enemies would not. If Ser Arthas indeed holds such secrets then it's best that it is secured by us."
"Lady Lyanna will be elevated by the news mi'lord... but ..." said Rodrik.
"Yes... you're right. The consequences of The North becoming prosperous is -sure enough- going to receive resistance from the South."
"... that's a mild way of putting it..." whispered Rodrik.
"We still have allies, The Riverrun, The Vale and The Stormlands." reasoned Eddard. A reason from which Rickard frowned.
"Eddard." said Rickard. "Once word got out that Arthas and Lyanna were to be bound by marriage, he will reject the North in all it's entirety."
"He is still my brother-in-arms. We bled together, fought together, and learned together. He would not discard that so easily."
"You, maybe. Us, not a chance. If he could do and say such things to Lyanna, then he can do worst to others." retorted Rickard. "We know what we want to do now. We want the things within this scrolls be made a reality. So...we prepare. We get ready. First is exactly what you have said. We need allies."
As Rickard pondered the possibilities before him, he thought on the possible connections he should be pursuing and there is one that came to mind.
'His brother will be wed to Catelyn Tully, bringing the Riverlands into the fold. I think I can force House Arryn through Jon but I need something else...' Rickard glanced at his second son and thought about his supposedly 'secret letters' with a certain maid with laughing purple eyes.
Rickard felt a little sadness within him. It was a potential match and he would have been happy with it, had it been any other times but with these new found prospects and possibilities. Rickard couldn't help but think that there should be better matches for his son.
He shook his head as he removed such thoughts and decided to move forward. He must first bring The Vale closer to The North while securing Arthas for House Stark in. The eyes of House Arryn.
"Eddard. Inform Lord Arryn that The Lord Paramount of The North wishes to speak with him at his earliest convenience."
"...at once father." Eddard answered.
Rodrik saw the determination in his Lord's eyes. He knew then that the following days would be anything but boring. He simply wish that whatever storm comes, does not turn his way.
~~~ Break ~~~
Days passed on by and while everyone lived their life in peace, there is one who had been struggling once more from within.
Arthas gazed upon the horizon as he sat at a small balcony just waiting for dawn. The cold winds and the shimmering stars that seemed to twinkle on the nights sky is his company. Peaceful and serene.
A peaceful moment that barely lasted the hour before it was broken by the slight tapping of shoes unto the wooden floors. He sighed as he heard her foot steps, already knowing the conversation that is to come.
"Couldn't sleep again?" whispered her melodious voice.
"...no..." he answered.
Cersei waited for him to speak but after moments of silence had passed, she felt she had to be the one to speak up to him.
"Arthas...it wasn't your fault you know." Cersei reasoned.
"...I know..." he answered.
An answer that shocked her. And so she asked with a sadness filled voice. "Then why? Why destroy yourself like this?"
He turned and looked straight to her eyes. Bright green eyes, glittering in unshed tears. Arthas smiled sadly seeing the near broken form of one Cersei formerly Lannister. There is confusion in her, one he knew he has to address.
"...I am not trying to. It's just how it is..."
Arthas extended his hand and pulled her close as she held his. He then sat her on his lap and said. "My dear, I do not mean to hurt you or anyone for this matter. But just because I know that it wasn't my fault doesn't alleviate me of my guilt."
He gave her a kiss on her forehead and looked straight into her eyes. "I was the one who asked them to stay. And even though I did my best, I can't help but feel it wasn't enough. And that is something I have to live with. Something I must accept as I move on." He then smiled then continued. "Don't worry my dear... I've been through this before. I can do it again."
"...you don't have to... You did what you could! They made their choices! Why must you carry such a burden!" Cersei said as she tried to deny his disparaging words. But Arthas answered her in a softly and patiently manner that kept her rooted.
"Because I led them. Because it was I who asked them to die. There is no changing that."
Cersei could hear the defeat in his voice. It was unbecoming and seemingly unfit for him. Like a smudge in a canvas that should be removed but for some inexplicable reason, isn't.
There is also acceptance. Acceptance in his words that simply told her that he is choosing to carry this burden. That he is choosing to hold himself accountable for such a mistake. It was wrong in her eyes... he shouldn't have to accept it. There are many ways to change the narrative of the story after all. Like pinning the blame to House Grafton for holding his reinforcements in Gulltown.
She wanted to say this things, to voice them out....but she didn't. She has been with him long enough to be able to tell his decision through his eyes after all.
He has made up his mind and chose to carry the stain of defeat already. For what purpose and reason but guilt, she couldn't say.
"...don't worry. I've done this before, I can do it again."
Arthas' assurance seemed to have worked and he is glad for it.
He wasn't expecting such thunderous emotions to build up within him. He had but brief flashes of them during his stay. Of memories he had hoped to forget, memories he had hoped to leave behind. Memories of courage and sacrifice. And of even greater guilt. Guilt for those he failed.
Whistling sounds, blaring noises, fire, explosions, screams and shrieks mixed with shouts of fear and desperation further enclosed by both chaos and death. He fought a battle for a cause that failed. A battle for thousands of lives that was lost. And then a battle for hundreds of innocent, one at the cost of their own, one that they barely won. All under his leadership.
His men were scared just as he was. His men wanted to say no just like he did. But when the time to make a choice came. He could only looked around in horror of the huddled families that looked to them in hope and despair.
Just as the thought of leaving them behind came upon his mind. He felt a tug it his pants. And what he saw froze him into inaction. A little girl, clutching her clothes who whispered, with both hesitation and hope. "...I'm hungry..."
It was then that he broke. He could no longer do it. He knew could no longer bring himself to leave. He knew that he would die, he couldn't careless if he would die.
Indecision
Doubt
Fear
Worry
Sadness
Pain
Melancholy
and Pride
Each emotion, triggered by a different memory in any moment in his life. Like a flash of clarity, each one flashing like a film passing through his eyes. It was strong enough that the only thing that kept his knees from failing, was the same look, the same eyes and the same resolution that reflect from each of his Brothers-in-arms that surrounded him.
The final nail in the coffin that solidified his choice.
With as much courage and resolve as they could muster. They fought for what little good is left, they endured and suffered, they killed and died and for each death they took, they killed a hundred more.
Yet when the final moment came, when he was all that was left standing, ready to face the end, he was saved. And through that, he survived.
Guilt, pain, denial and anger. It was all that filled him. Until he found purpose once more.
Black hair, curled at the ends. Red soft lips and a pair of sharp brown eyes that seemed to just strike at your gut with each gaze. She was brave as she was strong headed. As cute as she was sensual. A gem unlike any other, one he stumbled over a cup of coffee no less...a lucky find if any.
'....you dishonor them by not living...'
'How I wish you were here.' Arthas thought as a small tear pooled at the corner of his eye.
But before he could delve deeper into his memories, Arthas eyes was struck by the first rays of sunlight. It was soft and warm as it is welcoming and inviting. It was a dawn that truly belonged more to his world. One that basically told you to
'pick your ass up before I leave you behind!'
Arthas smiled with a small chuckle as soon as he heard it. He could not help but associate her voice everytime he thought about those words. It was his mama's voice. The kind of voice that gets you into trouble if you ignore it.
"Don't worry my dear." Arthas said, gaining Cersei's attention. "I'll get through this... one day at a time."
There it was, that certainty and it was as strong it was before. A strength familiar enough that Cersei could take comfort in it.
~~~ Break ~~~
Arthas passed the days healing. Both in mind and body.
He spent most of his time in the town, amongs the families of those who had fallen and with his own, often playing with the children, helping out at camp or even training.
But what Arthas had dedicated most of his time was in the forge. His armor was broken beyond repair. And his sword is far too twisted and chipped that it would be more detrimental if mended.
And so he dedicated himself in the forge. Forging away at his armor and his sword above all.
Molten, folded, hammered, heated, rinse and repeat and he had for himself a slab of steel. A slab of steel that was created from the very swords of the men who had died under him. The men who fought beside him. The men who faced death with courage, honor and valor.
A sword that will cleave his path for another tomorrow. A sword that will symbolize what they all fought for. A Sword a Hero.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
Swordbringer
Swordbringer work, tired, work, tired, work, tired, work tired, work, tired, overtime, tired, overtime tired.
yikes...anyway, sorry. but this may take some time. please be patient with me.
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