Until the Next

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Over the course of the next few days, Patrick delivers numerous letters. In the mornings, he helps Lady Clementine seal them and afterwards, delivers them all to whoever they need to go to. He's the personal messenger boy, and there's pride in this.

Many of the messages he delivers are mundane: orders for swords or dresses that he rides out into town to give to the blacksmith and tailor respectively. He delivers orders for what should be served at mealtimes and servants' schedules. He goes and picks up items when they're ready, then gives them to whoever they need to go to. Really, he just delivers the orders that Clementine can't be bothered to do herself in person.

Most of the letters he delivers aren't unusual, aren't political (well, some of them could be- it's not like he reads them) but he's delivered a few letters to fae in the woods and dropped a few into the icy ocean, only to watch them get pulled down by unknown hands. Clementine trusts him with these letters, so he takes great care to deliver them exactly according to her instructions.

The good thing about being the messenger boy is that most of his work is dealt with in the morning unless there's any additions, so he's free to do what he wants in the hours after lunch. He does a lot of reading and wandering, sometimes goes out to watch the ocean for whatever fae creatures live down there.

Since the war is over, Brynjar takes leave with Clementine's permission. He boards the next ship to head out to the islands and Patrick is sad to see him go, but he's done his part and he has to go see his family.

"My wife will be missing me," he says. "The kids, too, hopefully."

"They'll be happy to see you," Patrick assures.

"Aye." Brynjar smiles then, looking out to sea. He pats Patrick on the shoulder as he turns to leave. "You take care of yourself, kid."

"You too. I'm glad to know you."

"I'll see you again, I bet. Maybe take a sail around all of Adaetram, eh?"

Patrick grins, says that maybe they would have to do that sometime. Brynjar boards the ship in high spirits and Patrick waves to him before leaving. A bittersweet feeling plucks at his heart, but he's not sad. Brynjar's going to go see his family and he's okay.

Patrick doesn't exactly get used to sleeping alone again, but it gets easier to fall asleep. He misses the warmth of someone next to him (William, Aodhan) and he wonders when he'll be able to see them. He has less nightmares, more sweet dreams where he and Aodhan or he and William (sometimes all three of them) are tangled in a mess of bodies, lips locked together in a fervent heat. When he wakes up from those dreams, he has to lay and cool off, drowning thoughts of hands down his pants with more chaste thoughts.

(the other dreams are filled with Lena and blood and vultures and screaming and gold)

After a week at the Hoarfrost, Patrick's settled in just fine. He's missing friends; Isla is good company, but she's usually either busy with Clementine or busy doing work. She gets stuck on different projects and in the past days, she's already fixed several windows and refurbished a couple rooms for no reason Patrick can discern other than the layout bothered her. Ewan and Erikur are Clementine's men in command and he has little in common with them aside from Brynjar, but Brynjar is gone.

In short, he's lonely.

Another morning of delivering letters passes by and he finds himself wandering up one of the turrets, a book in hand. He's not expecting to find Clementine at the top and she hasn't been in the most amicable mood lately, so he takes a jerky step back once he notices her and begins to go the way he came. He figures she's up here for privacy, but she stops him in an almost bored voice when she tells him, "You can stay."

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