The Empress and the Captain

Four

Honour.

Fare felt certain it would be carved into Erilia's bones, her lungs, her heart, the word so deeply ingrained in the Captain's person it could be no less prevalent were she to wear it on a shield.

It was how she knew what she would decide before Erilia herself did, although she said nothing, only held her as she questioned the choice and the ways it would destroy her no matter what she decided, keeping all those who would force a decision from her at arms length and giving her all the space and time she needed,

Not very much time, as it turned out. A day... a day to decide, another to prepare.

And then she was gone.

The palace felt empty despite the advisors who still filled its halls, the dignitaries who vied for her attention and the guards who shadowed her every move. Maybe that was what it meant, though, to be in love, to feel as if your world was duller without the person you longed for beside you, the weight of everyone who was not them crushing in on you until you forgot what it meant to breathe even a little bit, because air surely was less when you did not share it with them.

She would not begrudge time for giving them such little space to say goodbye once the choice was made, not when such shortness meant Erilia would be back sooner, although the lingering warmth of her fingertips had become a phantom touch before she even mounted her horse.

Two months. Two months when they had had hardly even that together.

It was honour. It was right. A separation because Erilia knew it was the right thing for Rynn and the woman who was Empress of that land. A pledge to Seruc, aid when they needed it, and the knowledge their own lands would be safer for the alliance.

Fare hadn't chosen Erilia, all that time ago, to be the Captain of her Guard because of her looks. Well, not entirely. She had chosen her, chosen her then and every time since, as Captain, friend, confident, lover, because she knew she would do what was right, however she judged that to be.

Could she hold such a trait against her when she had valued it herself so deeply, simply because it wedged a blade in her soul? Could she ever begrudge Erilia for doing what was right, no matter how it pained Fare, when she had never once doubted her before?

Love was not so kind as she had thought it and she called it a coward to ask her such questions, to force her to go on with her work as the object of all her joy was travelling further away with every moment, bidding she sit through meetings and negotiations and listen to surveys and hold a lunch for visiting dignitaries, when every word she said felt like losing blood from a deep wound.

But she did it, perfectly impassive as she heard out a proposed legislation that would aid in the collection of rainwater and distribute it to surrounding farms, listened patiently to a Serucian chancellor as he spoke of the way her guards would be helping their people, ate food that she could not taste.

Fare did all that was required of her and then, ignoring the councillors who began hinting at extended talks, she marched from her palace and sought respite in her studio, slashing paint across a board until her fingers shook too much to hold the knife. Then she sunk, cradling herself, and sobbed for two months she understood but could not bear.