Thedrick pushed the door to Maerwynn's room open slowly and slipped inside without even announcing himself by knocking. He looked around the room, and instantly noticed the young queen seated at a miniature table and chairs in the middle of the room, serving imaginary tea to her dolls.
"Maerwynn? Where's Beowulf?" Thedrick asked with slight alarm, which caused the queen to quickly look up from what she was doing and glance over at him. She silently pointed at the bed, before turning her attention back to her dolls.
Thedrick's gaze wandered over to the bed, where he saw the giant soldier laying spread out on the mattress, still dressed in his sleeping linens. Thedrick's pale brows furrowed in confusion, and he padded softly over to the bed, watching the large figure breathe steadily. Once he was standing next to the bed Thedrick could see that the big guy wasn't asleep, but he was staring up at the ceiling blankly.
"Wulfy?" Thedrick asked with concern, and Beowulf let out a large huff, but didn't look at the jester. Thedrick quickly scrambled up onto the mattress and took a seat next to the soldier.
"Cassian sent me up to see if you were ready for the ceremony..." Thedrick explained softly, giving Beowulf a sympathetic look. It was clear that the guard hadn't moved from the bed since awakening that morning.
"I don't want to go," Beowulf finally said, still not making eye contact or moving to get up.
Thedrick's brows drew together again. "But... you can't not come Beowulf, the ceremony is for you, to award your knighthood."
"I don't want it," Beowulf said shortly, frowning.
"Wh... What do you mean you don't want it?" Thedrick asked, placing a small hand on Beowulf's bicep.
"I don't want to be awarded for killing people..." Beowulf's voice caught in his throat slightly as he spoke. "It's not a good thing."
"But... they were bad people Beowulf, they killed the king and wanted to kill Maerwynn too, and you stopped them from doing that. You deserve recognition for protecting her," Thedrick tried to argue.
"I just did my job..." Beowulf muttered miserably, rolling over on his side to turn his back to Thedrick.
Frowning, Thedrick shuffled closer to Beowulf, leaning against his huge body and rubbing his back reassuringly.
Thedrick wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but soon his attention was grabbed by a knock at the door. He lifted himself up from where he had his body partially draped over Beowulf's, who had been sobbing quietly. The door of the room opened, Cassian poking his bearded face through and looking around the room. When his gaze rested on Thedrick and Beowulf on the bed his expression fell, and he pushed open the door fully and stepped into the room, closing it behind himself before he strode over to the side of the bed that Beowulf was facing.
"Come on lad, you have to get up and get ready," the officer said in a firm but not unkind tone.
Beowulf sniffled. "I don't want to," he said softly.
"Unfortunately, it doesn't really matter what you want Beowulf," Cassian explained with slight exasperation. "This whole thing is less for you and more for the people. They feel safer when they know there is a brave hero protecting them."
"Is that what I have to do as a knight?" Beowulf asked with uncertainty. "Does that mean I won't get to be Maerwynn's bodyguard anymore?"
Cassian shook his head and chuckled. "Is that what this is about? I'm sure they will let you keep your position Beowulf, after all, you did a very good job at it. You'll just also get a title and land, and people will have to call you 'sir'," the officer explained in a light-hearted manner.
Beowulf made an unsure noise. "But I don't want people calling me sir... I call you sir, I'm not a sir!" he asserted, sitting up on the bed finally, accidentally knocking Thedrick out of the way in the process. He grimaced, and then helped to set the jester upright.
"Beowulf... I'm not even a knight you know, so soon you'll outrank me," Cassian said cheerfully, smiling at the soldier. "I'll have to call you sir instead!"
A look of horror washed over Beowulf's features, which Cassian and Thedrick couldn't help but laugh at. "Please don't do that," Beowulf said, practically squirming where he sat in discomfort.
"Okay I promise I won't call you sir, if you get up and get dressed and ready for the ceremony," Cassian offered with a wink. "Unless you'd rather spend some time in the dungeons again, which is what Tybalt will probably do to you if you stand him up."
"... fine..." Beowulf grumbled, swinging his legs out of the bed and getting to his feet. Cassian grinned in victory.
"Thedrick, could you get Maerwynn ready for the ceremony while I help Beowulf?" Cassian asked the jester, who nodded in response and hopped out of the bed, heading over to where his daughter was still playing with her dolls.
"Hey sweetie, it's time to get ready," Thedrick said as he plucked the child out of her seat and held her up to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Maerwynn squirmed around indignantly.
"Effie always gets me ready!" the young queen protested, trying to fight off her father's affections.
Thedrick went quiet for a moment, setting Maerwynn down on her feet. "Yes well... now I am going to help you, okay? So, let's go in the wardrobe and pick out something stunning for you to wear, yes? We don't want Beowulf and your uncle to be stealing the spotlight entirely, your majesty," he offered to her, gesturing to her walk-in wardrobe.
"Okay papa," she said, and turned and ran off into the wardrobe, leaving Thedrick stunned with what she had just called him.
****
Due to Maerwynn's insistence, Thedrick got to stand next to where she sat on her mother's throne during the ceremony, with Cassian close at hand as well, given that Beowulf would be unable to perform his usual bodyguard duties during the proceedings. By now the whole kingdom knew that Maerwynn was Thedrick's daughter, but the pair of them still got some odd looks from people who hadn't seen them together in the same room before. Mostly looks that seemed to convey the feeling of 'oh, so the rumours are true after all'.
The throne room was filled with anyone and everyone who could say that they were of noble blood, along with a fair number of guards and castle staff, and some important people from the town, including Beowulf's parents. Despite only meeting her once, Thedrick recognised Beowulf's mother, mostly from the death glare she was serving to him from across the room.
However, this was his first time seeing Beowulf's father, who was also a large man, though a bit shorter than his son, with an equally burly build. His long fair hair was tied up in a bun with his face framed by fluffy sideburns with a matching moustache, while his chin was clean shaven. He had a large visible scar running over his left eye, which was cloudy in appearance. He appeared to be beaming with pride, a stark contrast to his wife's attitude.
Thedrick's attention was grabbed by someone else who was looking at him and his daughter, though in a more curious and less hostile way. It was a tall well-built woman who was dressed in armour and carried a large battle-axe strapped to her back. Her red hair was braided against her scalp, pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck and had grey streaks running through it.
She seemed a bit familiar to Thedrick, as if he may have seen her around the castle once or twice before, but he didn't know who she was. He leaned over and elbowed Cassian lightly and asked in a hushed tone, "Hey, who's that?" When the officer glanced at him, Thedrick nodded slightly in the woman soldier's direction. The ceremony had yet to begin, and most of the audience was making hushed small talk among themselves.
Cassian looked over at the woman, and then back at Thedrick with a raised eyebrow. "That's General Sigrid Bergstrom, you know, the leader of our armed forces?" he explained with a slight tone of disbelief that the jester was unaware of her identity. "Though I guess she spends most of her time with the main host, which would explain why you haven't met her before."
"Oh, did she come all the way here just to attend Beowulf's knighthood ceremony?" Thedrick asked with slight surprise.
"Well not just that, also to discuss our next moves in response to the assassination, with the regent and the queen," Cassian explained simply.
"What's she like?" Thedrick asked, feeling a little intimidated by her presence even from across the room. While she had not been observing him and Maerwynn with any malice, she certainly had a very stern, hard look to her.
"Well, she is highly respected by all the soldiers for being a fearless yet level-headed fighter, and she is also a master strategist. If it wasn't for her, we would have lost the last war," Cassian said, smirking while he glanced back over at her.
"But didn't we lose Richard's family's lands?" Thedrick asked with uncertainty, recalling what he had been told about the history of the last war.
"Aye we did, but it could have been so much worse, we could have lost the entire kingdom, had she not orchestrated the plan to drive the enemy back," Cassian explained in a tone of slight admiration. "I don't know why I ever felt like I could keep up with her..."
"You have a history with her?" Thedrick asked, his interest piqued.
"A history of always being a step behind her," Cassian mused with a nostalgic smile. "We trained together, and were rivals of a sort, but it was always clear who was the better. And during the war that was only proven, when she soared to great heights while I lay dying in the mud." He closed his eyes and shook his head wistfully.
Thedrick fell silent. Despite how light-heartedly the officer was speaking about the topic, he didn't want to pry into it anymore. He glanced down at his daughter, who seemed restless on her throne seated next to her uncle, who looked very weary of all the commotion in the room. From the dark circles under Tybalt's eyes, it seemed as though the regent hadn't been getting much sleep since his appointment to leadership. He looked equally as tired as he had during his brother's funeral.
Eventually the head priestess, who was standing next to Tybalt's throne, called the audience to attention, and a hush fell over the crowd. Then the doors opened, and Beowulf stepped into the throne room, flanked by two more priestesses. He was dressed in ceremonial clothing, gold fabric with blue trimmings, which appeared to have been custom made for his size. The priestesses of the sun goddess were dressed in similar coloured robes as well. They carried staves which had heads shaped like a crescent moon surrounded by the flames of the sun.
They proceeded slowly across the room to the base of the stairs that led up to the thrones. There they came to a halt, between two tables set up on either side of the walkway. Upon one of the tables rested a set of full plate armour and a giant claymore. Upon the other there was a fancy ceremonial sword sitting on a stand and a branding iron with its glowing head resting in hot coals. Beowulf looked up at the regent and the queen, looking rather nervous and almost naked without his usual armour and helmet.
After some introductory words from the head priestess, the regent rose from his chair and descended the stairs towards Beowulf. Tybalt was slow to descend the steps as he was reliant on his cane for support, as one of his legs was partially disabled from an old injury. The large soldier got down on one knee as the ruler approached him. Tybalt paused for a moment in front of Beowulf, looking down at him, before he stepped across to the table and picked up the ceremonial sword in his free hand. Then he retook his position in front of the soldier.
The head priestess, who stood now off to the side from the regent, began speaking again. "Do you, Beowulf of the royal guard, swear to our lady Arcadia and to your queen, to uphold the knights code of chivalry by always protecting the innocent, being loyal and devoted to your monarch and gods, always speaking the truth, and being brave in the face of danger?"
"In the light of the gods, and witnessed by my queen, I swear to uphold the code of chivalry and all that it entails until the day that I die," Beowulf repeated the line he had been practising and memorising with Thedrick the night before. Thedrick beamed down at him with pride; he barely even sounded nervous as he said it.
One of the priestesses that were standing next to Beowulf grabbed his hand by the wrist, holding it out palm upward towards Tybalt. The regent lifted the sword and then placed the blade on Beowulf's palm, and with a small movement sliced into his flesh. Beowulf visibly flinched from the pain, and blood pooled in his hand as Tybalt lifted the sword away, crimson dripping down the keen edge of the blade.
"And thus, you are bound to your oath by blood," the high priestess announced. Beowulf squeezed his hand shut, causing blood to drip from it, as he returned it to his side.
The regent stepped back over to the table and rested the sword back on its stand, before picking up the branding iron instead. As he moved back in front of Beowulf, the two priestesses on either side of the soldier reached around his broad body to open the front of the ceremonial clothing, exposing his chest. Beowulf's blue eyes were intensely trained on the hot brand as Tybalt stepped in front of him again.
The big man certainly winced as the branding iron was pressed against the soft flesh of his pectoral muscle. It was only held there for a moment, before Tybalt pulled it away again, leaving flesh seared in the shape of a crown which had points that resembled the rays of the sun.
"The symbol of your loyalty is now seared into your flesh, also binding your oath with pain," the high priestess announced as Tybalt returned the branding iron to the table. Beowulf looked like he was about to cry, still wincing from the pain.
The two priestesses then busily got to work dressing Beowulf in his new set of armour, helping him to buckle on one piece at a time over the top of his ceremonial clothes. Beowulf didn't do a very good job with trying to hide how uncomfortable he looked during the entire process, though eventually his face was once again covered by a helmet, saving him from having to try to control his expressions.
The newly knighted Beowulf certainly cut an intimidating figure in the shiny new plate armour with his gigantic claymore sheathed against his back. It really accentuated his gigantic build, and everyone looked on at him in awe. The sight of him was certainly bound to inspire some sort of feelings in anyone, whether that be admiration or fear. Thedrick took another glance at Beowulf's parents, who both appeared rather emotional at the visage of their dear son.
"You shall now be known as Sir Beowulf the Dawnbringer," the high priestess declared, and the room erupted into cheers. Beowulf was looking around, and Thedrick could tell from his body language that he was a little bewildered at the energy of the celebration. After this many years, Thedrick had gotten very good at reading Beowulf's body language, due to the guard's tendency to keep his face covered at most times.
During the applause, Tybalt shakily retreated back up the stairs to take a seat on the throne next to the queen's. Despite the fact that Thedrick could see his face, he found the regent to be quite the unreadable sort of person, his stern expression not giving away very much of what he was feeling or thinking. Meanwhile, next to him, Maerwynn was clapping her tiny hands enthusiastically, smiling down at her bodyguard.
As the cheering died down, the seneschal stepped into the middle of the room and announced to all of the guests that a celebration would now take place in the great hall of the castle, with food and drink available for all attendees. The castle staff began guiding people out of the throne room, and Thedrick quickly skipped down the steps and over to Beowulf, who seemed to be speaking softly with one of the priestesses.
"You did great Wulfy!" Thedrick called out as he approached, which caused Beowulf to turn towards him, posture tightening in alarm. It instantly relaxed again when he saw who it was, and as Thedrick stepped up next to him, Beowulf reached out and patted him gently on the head with his large, gauntleted hand.
Though it was Thedrick's turn to tense up when he noticed Beowulf's parents approaching them. Beowulf's father was smiling cheerily, while his mother was back to giving Thedrick the stinky eye again. Thedrick backed up a bit, until he was almost somewhat hiding behind Beowulf, watching Oriana wearily. He knew it was unlikely that the woman would try to harm him in such a public venue, but he was at least preparing himself for a very awkward and uncomfortable interaction.