"King Duncan." Halt said in an obnoxiously loud voice while he glanced over at Squirt, a warning dancing in them as he caught her stare upon the King.
King Duncan didn't look like the King Duncan Squirt had remembered him as. The last time she had ever seen the King was when she was still a young child of four years where her memories were all a blur, but she was sure that the King never looked almost exhausted with his shoulders slumped and his eyes grim.
Halt let the door squeak its way to be fully opened, as he bowed his head in greeting. "You're majesty." As the King walked through the doorway, he didn't waste time catching his eyes with her Squirts, not bothering to look at the untidy cabin.
She knew she should do something, she should bow her head or curtsy. Even smiling would've been a good start, but all Squirt had managed to put together in the seconds it had taken for the surprise to rise within her as she became suddenly aware how small she was in her slouched and lazy position on the chair, was a small mumble; "You're the King."
Squirt hadn't realised in the commotion inside her head of thoughts bumping into each other, that she was slowly slipping off the wooden chair. She quickly tried to add, 'your majesty' to the end of her sentence that she was now utterly in disbelief that she had allowed those words escape her lips.
But it seemed her slipping hide had other plans. The cabin went silent from footsteps and squeaking doors and Squirt was sure the two men standing before her had stopping their breathing as they watching her slip off the chair, her body flopping, unprepared for any of it.
Instead of getting up and picking up the chair that now lay with a snapped leg, she let the mess inside her head tangle and mess with her actions as she scrambled to a kneeling position, and grabbing the chair now in two pieces and propping the broken leg underneath the chair, giving the illusion of a perfectly fine chair.
"King Duncan, your majesty." Squirt let the words come out in a rush, so it sounded more like, 'Sing drunk an' draw my chesty'. Now Squirt was sure even the insects waking for the night had grown silent.
In desperate need for the silence to not eat at her skin that was making her want to squirm, she quickly rushed to her feet, leaning on the chair-that-didn't-look-broken-but-was-broken which let Squirt have a moment of standing on her two feet before the chair-that-didn't-look-broken-but-was-broken gave way to the weight crashing down back onto the floor, Squirt following the splintered wood.
Squirt let the dust on the floor settle as she lay, stomach to the floor and her head slightly raised to keep from squashing her nose. It was still silent, but Squirt realised in her clumsy chaos she created, that she preferred to the silence better now.
"This won't go on my report card, will it?" Squirt eventually spoke, her voice rattling the calmed air, cutting through it like an arrow cut through air in mid-flight.
"Oh," Halt's voice was soft, but his tone that dripped with a certain grimness Squirt was too familair with. She turned reluctantly on her stomach. She was in the middle of persuading herself that he can't have been as horrifying as she initially thought, but then she took in the scene of the two men, King Duncan doing a poor job at masking his smile, and the sympathetic amusement danced in a battle with the grim expression in the patterns of his eyes.
Halt, on the other hand, showed no sign of hidden amusement, no hint of a crease at the edges of his mouth. Instead he looked like the usual grim Halt, but instead of his arms folding in front of his chest or his fingers dangling at the hilt of his Saxe Knife, they were holding a bit of paper and a feather inked pen. Halt held his gaze firmly with Squirt's reluctant expression. "Was I not supposed to?"
Squirt went wide-eyed, as she watched Halt continuing to scribble down on the paper.
The two didn't seem to notice the amused grin slowly fade, letting the creases at his cheeks and under his eyes return to their initial flat position.
"The longer you lounge on that floor, the more money comes out of your allowance." Halt threatened, only lifting his unwavering warning glance at Squirt once, before he resumed his task.
Duncan watched as Squirt scrunched her face, and he marvelled at how every expression she pulled made her look even more like her mother.
"You've never given me allowance." Squirt said, lifting her arms at her side, emphasising the fact that he was making no progress of getting her off the ground.
Halt hesitated in his scribbling. Duncan watched his friend, analysing his old friend's movements. Duncan on many occasions wondered how a man like Halt; grim, deadly and dangerous, could become one of his closest friends. Not only that, but took in his own child seeking no repayment.
"...Exactly my point." Halt eventually replied. Squirt smiled, getting up as she did, shaking her head at the man she had grown up with.
Duncan watched not only a girl getting to her feet, but his daughter. The memory hit Duncan hard as it ripped from the chains he had wrapped it in, inside his mind.
-Flashback-
"Beautiful day for riding isn't it?" Sianna said peering through one of the windows in the royal suite, her eyes alight by the reflection of the sun. Duncan the newly crowned King subconsciously smiled at her, he had given up years ago trying to figure out how she managed to get him to smile without even noticing.
"Sure is." he said and Sianna turned around to look in her husband's eyes. He always felt like her eyes reminded him of wet green grass gleaming in the sunlight that set a sparkle to it. While his, he had no idea why she enjoyed to stare in them. They seemed so dull, so ordinary compared to hers.
But along with the beautiful brilliance in his wife's eyes, came the expressions with it. The question was already leaping in her eyes before she opened her mouth.
"Wargals are still on the loose, Sianna. A war has just ended, we have a baby to nurture." Duncan cut in, before the words had even left Sianna's lips, that now formed a trace of a smile.
"We won't go far." she spoke softly, as her lips loomed closer to Duncan's. "And who knows what the weather will be like in a couple of days." It was a petty excuse to leave now, but when Sianna's lips pressed against Duncan's, a smile formed against her lips.
"Fine, we'll stay within the border of Castle Araluen, just to be safe." Duncan said when Sianna pulled back from his lips, but kept a hold on his neck. She nodded, failing to hold a serious expression upon her face as the excitement leached from her thoughts and spread a broad smile across her face.
The servants that had worked since Duncan was a boy took baby Annabelle. And with a promise to keep her safe and warm, Sianna and Duncan set off to the outline villages.
The Sun sat above their heads in the sky, revealing it was mid-afternoon. Duncan laughed with the children of the village, little had he known it was his last laugh before the terrible things happened.
It hadn't seemed to raise any alarms in Duncan when Sianna was nowhere to be seen by his side. She had done it countlessly that day, drifting off to speak with children, or snoop in a classy shop.
Everything was fine and nothing was out of the ordinary until the scream erupted from a woman's lungs that sounded all too familiar to Duncan for him to assume otherwise. He didn't worry about trampling the flowers the children had laid out in front of him, he didn't worry about the guards yelling for their King to stop for his own safety. Nothing he did in that moment seemed to worry him except for the fact that his wife screamed like he had never heard her scream before. He wasn't even sure if he he had ever heard her scream before at all.
"Sianna!" He yelled out, his voice cracking like glass would when stone was thrown at it. Duncan heard the whistle of an arrow before he saw Sianna.
Duncan analysed the scene immediately, shifting his eyes from one thing to the next. Sianna stood in the stirrups of her horses saddle, her crossbow she brought in hand pointing toward the forest that was abandoned years ago when war destroyed the once beautiful castle that use to dwell there. It was the Ruins of Gorlan.
Ignored the shiver that flew up his spine faster than it would take lightening to break through the sky, as he took in the horror of the dead deer that was struck by a crooked black arrow in both its neck and heart. Duncan didn't like the way the way that the arrows pointed as if they had come from the shadows of the towering trees.
He hadn't realised how quick he had been running until he almost slammed into Sianna's horse when he skidded to a stop. Sianna didn't even get enough time to look at her husband when the third arrow embedded itself in the soil at Sianna's horse's hooves. A yelp of terror erupted from the horse's mouth as it reared up, shoving Sianna to the ground as it did.
Duncan wasn't ready for Sianna's weight to slam onto his arms but he held them out anyway, catching her before she hit the ground. He winced at the sudden pressure, but the adrenaline seemed to defeat any possibility of him dropping her. He began to run with her in his arms, forgetting about the heaviness and only focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as quick as he could without toppling.
Duncan would never forget the spark of light that caught his peripheral vision, he would never forget what it was like to hold his wife's warm body in his arms for the last time. He would never forget the death song the arrow sang as it leaped from the shadows and embedded itself like the one before had done in the soil, but instead of soil, it was his own flesh in his arm.
He couldn't help but drop Sianna, but held on to her hand instead, refusing to let her go, and also needing it to squeeze as the arrow that had sunken into his arm -the arm that held his wife- had let the fire that had been wrapped around its end spread among his flesh. He screamed in fury, in hatred, in pain. He shook vigorously in hope that it would blow the flame away.
Duncan's entire arm screeched from the burning sensation, and he screeched in unison, as it went numb. He lost all warmth and all feeling through his arm, his mind forgetting he was still holding Sianna's hand as the chaos distracted him, and in those moments, his hand that hadn't started burning yet, stuck his wife's face, without him even knowing it. Duncan yelled in frustration as he slammed his arm against the ground to stamp the fire out.
Once the flame stopped burning his flesh, he lay half crouched on the ground the flame no longer blurring his vision from anything else. The first thing he noticed was the silence, so eerie it made him itch, and then the body on the ground.
Duncan refused to believe he was staring at his wife, who lay in front of him, face bruised and unmoving. It didn't take him long to figure out what he had done. And then, his eyes trailed down to her chest, struck by a black arrow where he heart used to beat. Duncan stared, yearning for her eyes to open, for him to lose himself into the emerald eyes again, he wanted to hold her again and feel her body warmth radiate with his once more. But as Duncan knelt down, ignoring the clinking of armour as guards rushed to the King and Queen, and felt her body temperate almost sucked out of her skin that now turned a frail white. Duncan stared at the small pool of blood that bubbled where the arrows entered her chest and heard another death song in the background of his mind. He didn't care when he felt the unbearable pain swarm across his shoulder.
In that moment, he hoped it killed him, it would've been perfect, to die next to your lover. Duncan crumpled beside the fallen Queen of Ardalan.
It almost felt like Duncan had woken up from a dream, as he opened his eyes to see he lay in bed in the Royal Suite. He half-expected Sianna say beside him, but as his eyes searched the empty bed sheets for her, he instead saw Halt sitting on the bed, staring at him.
"Sianna." he managed to squeak out through his throat raw from the lack of water. Duncan turned his head to see Halt more clearly and repeated the single word hoping that what he saw was just a nightmare. He waited for Halt to tell him she was in the dining room or had gone into a council meeting, but it never came.
Instead he let his hope smother in his mouth as he repeated her name, "Sianna." Not really asking for her any more, but just in sorrow.
"Sianna's dead, Duncan." Halt said and it seemed that Duncan wasn't the only one wishing it was a nightmare as the reluctance and despair drenched his tone as he spoke. Duncan didn't look at his friend when he felt the tears escape from his eyes, at the same time that the weeping escaped his lips.
Duncan never cried after that day.
Duncan sat alone at the dining hall when one of the servants held a bundle of cloth in their hands, Halt trailing behind, his eyes meeting Duncan's. Halt, it seemed, was the only one able to keep his gaze ever since the death of Sianna.
"King Duncan, your majesty," Mary gestured for Duncan to hold the bundle of cloth where a tiny nose and finger poked out. As the maid settled the bundle down closer to him, he instantly recognised his baby but made no move to hold her. Instead he gazed grimly upon the child before shaking his head, and looking away, but no tears came strolling down.
"I don't deserve her." he whispered even though there was no need to whisper. Hesitation struck the servant and glanced over at Halt for some sort of help.
"Duncan," Halt too a step forward, gesturing to the gurgling baby that the servant now held to her chest. "She's your baby." Halt watched his friend swallow as he kept his gaze on the stone floor.
"It's my fault for her mother's death," Duncan croaked out. "I don't deserve her." It only took a slight nod to the door from Halt for the servant to know what he meant. Cradling the baby, the servant left without a word.
"I appreciate you caring Halt," Duncan spoke when the servant shut the door."But if you're going to bother me with trying to convince me to hold the baby you may as well be asking me to run into a battle field in my undergarments with no weapons." Halt never let his gaze rest on anything but his friend's eyes that still avoided contact.
"Duncan," Halt began, edging a fraction closer to him. But he never got any further than that.
"If that is all, my friend, I shall bid your leave." This time Duncan lifted his gaze, a firmness stirring in his brown gaze that made Halt's steps go no further forward, but rather backward, leaving the room without a word.
Duncan wore his mourning clothes as everyone else in the kingdom did as they bid his wife farewell the next day. Everyone only rose their voice to a murmur in Castle Aruluen, and it was after the funeral that Halt returned with the Lady Pauline this time, holding the baby.
"Shall I explain this clearer for you," Duncan whispers to the two, but the power behind his words was not lost in it, no matter the volume. "You cannot force me to raise a child I that I do not deserve." Lady Pauline opened her mouth to argue, her courier techniques kicking into gear, but Halt hushed her quickly meeting Duncan's gaze easily. Duncan knew Halt could see the look in his eyes.
He was falling apart.
"I'll look after her," Halt spoke softer than Duncan had ever recalled hearing his friend speak. "I'll look after Duncan's baby until Duncan is ready to look after her." Halt's eyes were no longer dancing in gloominess, but instead a warmness that made the tears that he swallowed down every day want to trickle out of his sockets.
Duncan wanted to thank Halt, wanted to crumple to his knees and let out all the well wishes he could possibly give to his friend. But instead they shared a look, a looking of understanding, a look of appreciation, a look of grief, a look of sad happiness. A look that only friends like them could share. There was no need for words, the expression that lay in each other's eyes was all that was needed.
The baby was crying in Pauline's arms.
"I can't get her to settle." she huffed, bobbing the infant up and down, but it seemed to only disturb the child more. Halt took a deep breath and gestured for her to give the baby to him, Duncan watched as Pauline hesitantly passed the sobbing baby into Halt's arms.
Halt started cradling the baby like he had done it countless time and hushed her with a soothing voice. The baby's sobbing quietened at his voice but it still remained restless. Her dazed eyes cast a look at Halt and Duncan would never forget that moment she looked up at Halt and she stopped squirming and let her eyelids settle down over her eyes once again. And, by the look on Halt's face, neither would he.
(Flashback over)
Duncan watched mesmerised in his daughter's eyes as she stared up at Halt. There was amusement dancing in her yes now, but it was the same eyes that had cast a look at Halt that first day.
It was then a wave of sorrow hit Duncan the way wave would against rock. He missed his daughter's life, he let her grow up without him, letting her believe he was dead. Halt was the real father in the room, he was the one responsible for the murder of his wife. The arrow may have killed her, but the arrow wouldn't have found its target had he not have struck her.
It was then he realised the room was quiet and the two were staring at him. Halt resembled in Squirt and he realised nothing resembled in her of him. It hurt more than he should have let it, feeling the pain he felt rattle his heart the day Sianna died.