My Last Amen

[Meraki]

"Me too," Fira breathed out, just letting his lips find her pulse point. She felt so much better than she had the previous day, and while her lungs and throat still burned and labored, she could manage enough breath to make it through a sentence. She would not be running anytime soon (well, ideally, at least) but she had more than enough energy to be awake and alert which was a huge improvement from the other day. Her limbs still felt like lead, but that was to be expected – everything tended to ache after such an intense few days of bed rest. That and her body was just tired – she was tired from fighting the poison, tired from the attack, tired from every damn thing in the world because nothing was going right.

There was so much to do. She needed to meet with Roth, to try and speak with Calliope, to make arrangements for the townspeople and ensure that there was some form of protection. She needed to get up, to eat something, to sleep more, to change her clothes, to brush her hair, to somehow take a bath without the anxiety of what could happen. She, she, she. Fira managed a deep breath and tried to quell the race of her mind in the early hours before dawn.

"I haven't eaten in days," she laughed softly, the tail end of it turning into a slight cough but nowhere near the awful, ugly, heartbreaking sound of the coughs she had endured after nearly dying. She hardly noticed how long it had been, but she supposed it was about time to deal with that, too. "I just thought it would hurt too much." And it probably would, too, but she needed anything she could manage for energy. There was a long, arduous road ahead of them and she could not let herself be beat by an assassination attempt. It did not matter the anxiety she felt about taking anything from anyone. She did not fear death as much as she thought she would, but she certainly intended to live. She feared more than anything the repercussions of her death, what that meant for the people, what it meant for the kingdom, for Amadeus.

She could live with the trauma of what happened, but it was still difficult to endure and the wounds, as much as she would deny it and ignore them, were still fresh.

She was about to speak when his lips silenced her. It was a searing kiss, desperate and longing, one that Fira had longed for herself. She did not want to hurt him, but she could not help the way her fingertips rake through his hair. She did not speak of her fear, of the uncertainty in the world around them, but she knew that he understood. Amadeus knew her better than she knew herself most times, and in that moment she just needed him. It was all she ever needed, really, and she would be selfish as long as she could. If he was going to leave her side, she would be sure that these few moments together were everything.

That kiss took her breath away – and maybe just a little bit literal – but that did not stop her from kissing him like the world was ending. They didn't have time for questions, not now. Not after everything they had been through.

 

[Nav]

In his life, Amadeus had given more of himself than perhaps was wise.

He gave until there was nothing left for him to give, and even still, he found new ways to sacrifice himself for others. It was in his nature and he knew his parents would have had it no other way. He never saw it as suffering and he gave away everything even when he should have kept something for himself. He liked it that way, he felt good about himself that way, but it was beginning to feel like there was never enough he could give—to the people, to the kingdom, to Fira. He was no royal. He was nameless, without a title, and he meant nothing to most and even less to others. People often took what he offered without gratitude or thought, and he continued to give all the same because that's who Amadeus was.

He didn't do the things he did in search of praise, thanks, and recognition. All his life, he knew he could die without a penny or name to his person and be fine with that, and he would have, had Fira not come along. He still didn't care for wealth or things of object—money, gold, riches—but suddenly, he wanted something for himself. He wanted the way her fingers shifted through his curls and gently pulled them apart, the way she tilted up to meet his lips, and the soft smile she reserved just for him and no one else.

"You need to eat," he scolded once their lips had separated by a centimeter of space, close enough that as he spoke, he could still brush hers with his own. "Even if it hurts," he continued, though he understood her apprehension and fear. It wasn't just about the physical pain, he was certain. If he had been in her position, he'd have an awful hard time trusting food from anyone, even those who vowed to protect her.

"Tell you what… I'm going into the village to help and there are bound to be some farmers or bakers with open shops. I'll pick something for you to eat, okay?" It was less likely to become contaminated if he brought it up from the village himself. Plus, he knew he'd taste test it to ensure its safety. Better lose a peasant soldier than the Queen. He'd rather her get food sooner than later, but he'd rather be able to eat food in the comfort of knowing it wasn't going to kill her. That, and Amadeus did truly need to go to town to help. It was the least he could do as he was still strong and fit, unlike so many of the other soldiers who had died or were grappling with more grievous wounds.

His lips closed on hers again, a soft and slow peck that caused him to smile into their shared touch. "I'll be gone for a little while, but I'll bring back something to eat, okay?" He hadn't eaten anything in the past few days, either, he reminded himself and he didn't feel so guilty about taking a break from helping others if it also meant that Fira got what she needed.

Slipping out of her embrace, Amadeus rolled so he was sitting on the side of the bed. A grunt escaped his throat as his chest screamed out and caused him a winded pause before he reached for his boots and moved to pull them on. "Just try and get a little more rest. I'll be back soon."

 

[Meraki]

Fira knew the scolding was coming, but she couldn't help but smile almost sheepishly into his lips. It was not as though she had intended to stave herself, but she realized in the long run that she had not eaten for quite a few days and her stomach had far reached the point of grumbling, it was just a panging ache of hunger. She was dehydrated and starving, there was no denying it, especially when she knew she never really touched the water on the nightstand or accepted food when brought to her. She was not ungrateful by any means but her trust had certainly been frayed and needed a bit to recover.

"Okay," she breathed out, knowing all too well that he would never actually be persuaded to stay when there was something he could be doing. She felt for the people, she really did, and if she could have done something to make it better, she would have done it with her own two hands but she was far from ready to do anything other than near collapse on her own two feet. She was glad that someone was helping, especially Amadeus, because she knew that if anyone could really help those people, it was him. "I'll try to rest a bit longer." His lips found hers gently, capturing them in a slow, intimate peck before pulling back and pulling his boots on.

"Just please don't overwork yourself," she requested affectionately, a yawn passing through her lips, "We will need to move sooner rather than later."

She had so many people to talk to, so many decisions to be made, but perhaps if she could listen to his request for her to rest a while, he would listen to hers to not overexert himself. After all, he had quite the chest wound blooming on his skin and she would not lose him. Especially not when he could help it. She squeezed his hand affectionately as he pulled away and let him ready for the day. She would eventually need to stand and find herself some new clothes, perhaps bathe, but the tail end of her fever was still lingering and she needed to take it easy. Once Amadeus returned with food, she would start up again.

"I'll see you soon," she offered him a warm smile, one she only ever showed to him.

The rest of the morning went by in an instant, one minute the moonlight was filtering in and the next Fira was blinking her eyes to the sunlight. It was not particularly late, but midmorning, and she could hear life bustling about in the estate. The guards knocked on her door and offered breakfast, but she politely declined and exhaled at the thought. What she would not give to feel some bread in the burning pit of her stomach. Eventually, without Amadeus' return yet, Fira moved to settle her feet on the floor beside her bed before she slowly pushed herself up. Everything was weak from bed rest and she almost immediately sent herself over into the table, but she caught herself and steadied herself.

Now that the dizziness had all but turned to a slight haze, Fira could manage to take a few steps towards the armoire where her clothing had been stored. She pulled out new riding clothes and slipped herself into them, her hands working her locks into a braid to keep them from her face. It was probably useless to keep her hair dark now, but she would deal with that when she was willing to bathe again.

She had nearly zapped all her energy by the time she changed, and Fira reached shakily for a chair and sat herself down on it, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands for a second. The dehydration certainly did not help things, but she was beginning to realize just how much energy she needed to exist on a day to day basis and also realizing that her strength had not entirely returned yet.

 

[Nav]

"Wedge the plank a little further under the wagon wheel, it'll help with traction," Amadeus explained simply as he watched three kids groan as they shoved the board of wood deeper into the mud that had been trapping their family's wagon. The skinny pair of horses had hauled against their harnesses, but couldn't free the carriage from the slick of mud it had gotten itself into. Sure enough, with a bit of traction, the wheel began to turn and the horses managed to pull it forward. With a pained creak of wood and the squishing of mud, the wagon became free and clattered up on to the slightly less muddy portion of the peasant road several feet ahead.

All morning, Amadeus had been helping out where he could. Hundreds of families were packing up anything and everything they knew, loading them into saddle bags, carriages, and wagons and heading out for new lives. Many were going to small towns only miles from the Duke's village, but others still had big plans: some were traveling a great distance to start over entirely new. Others still were stubbornly digging their heels in and refusing to leave, but Amadeus didn't have the breath or energy to argue with them. They would stay no matter what he said, so he just busied himself helping those that he could.

Already by mid-morning, the village began to look empty. Houses were boarded up and left abandoned empty, but a few shops remained open. Some farmers were even selling the last of their crops on the side of the road to soldiers and passerbys, making it easy for Amadeus to select a lunch for Fira and himself. Many of the shop keeps even gave him goods for free or reduced prices in exchange for his help and by the time mid-morning had rolled around, he had managed to collect three loaves of rye bread, a half bushel of apples, and a substantial wedge of cheese. It wasn't much when compared to what the estate kitchen could have offered her, but the food was guaranteed safe.

He had already tried a small bite of everything, the food hitting his stomach like a ton of bricks and churning uncomfortably as it begged for more. He was hungry, painfully so, but not a single bite killed him. It was late morning by the time he had finally decided to give himself a rest and head back up to the estate house. He was moving slowly, not out of leisure but discomfort, though no one seemed to pay him any mind. Instead, he was entirely ignored as he stepped through the gardens, past the front doors, and up the stairs.

With a knock, he arrived at Fira's door.

"Fira?" he called out to her gently, using her given name as no one was around to overhear, "I brought you some lunch. I figured we could eat together." After all, she had asked him to not overexert himself, so he decided that a rest was in order—even if all he wanted to do was go straight back to the village and continue helping. He needed to slow down, he knew. He was injured, exhausted, and hungry. Even as he was working, he could feel the sluggishness in him, slowing down his productivity to a crawl as he attempted to work through the pain that continued to build through his chest and worsen.

He ignored the pain because he knew he must, but more than once that morning, he had to pause to catch his breath and lean against something for a moment of reprieve.

 

[Meraki]

She was just about upright again when there came a knock at the door and Amadeus' voice. She wondered when they last time she heard him call her Fira aloud was. Sure, he whispered it, coaxed her through healing and promised that she would be fine. Fi. But it felt like a lifetime since she had heard her full name like that and it brought a smile to her lips. She was closer to the door than to the bed, so with what little strength she could manage, Fira pushed herself standing. No matter how shaky she was, she still managed to get on her own two feet.

It was a start. There was a lot of healing shed need to do, but it seemed as though the absolute worst of it had passed and she was beyond glad for it. At least the pain from her arrow wound had knocked her out cold. Poison was a terrible death, slow and agonizing, and there were times where she just wished it would be over – no matter what the outcome – but she made it. That had to count for something, right?

With a few careful steps, she made her way to the door and grasped onto the handle, pulling it open and leaning her weight against it to give her legs some reprieve. He looked exhausted and beaten down, but there was something in Amadeus' eyes that wasn't there the other day. He looked so defeated when he came to her, but there seemed to be some sort of affirmation in his eyes. She couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but something was different. Something changed last night, even if she was unsure what exactly.

"Hi there," she smiled, a bit winded, but well enough now that it didn't affect her speech too terribly, "You look exhausted. C'mon." She moved back slightly to let him into the room and shut the door behind him, her back leaning against the door. She offered him a smile and managed to shift her weight to her feet. "I just had to change," she mentioned, knowing that somewhere deep down Amadeus was probably scolding her mentally for even being out of bed, "and I sat down for a minute to catch my breath when lo and behold you knocked."

She smiled sheepishly, "But I have definitely had enough personal victory for the day, would you mind helping me back?"

 

[Nav]

"Oh, hi," his hand had nearly been on the handle, having expected to open the door when she responded, but instead the brass slipped out between his fingers and there stood Fira. She looked weary. There were dark circles below her eyes and she was winded to the point that she was leaning tiredly against the door itself to provide support. He noted the change in her clothes and the slight hint of smug pride that was creeping across her expression, as if she was just challenging him to say something about the fact that she was up and out of the bed. He didn't, though she was right in so much that he was scolding her in his own head.

Still, it seemed good for her. She invited him in and leaned deeper against the door, but she seemed genuinely pleased to be out of bed, even for a short while, and Amadeus didn't have the heart to scold that wild spirit in her.

Setting his bag down on one of the bedside chairs, he returned to her. "I see that," he said when she explained that her change of clothes was absolutely necessary. That he understood. Nothing felt better than slipping into clean clothes. "Sure, of course I can help. Come on, come along," with the bag set down, he stepped more entirely towards her and scooped her waist up in his arm, letting her spill her weight over him as they made their path back towards the bed.

"I'm thinking getting a little food into you will help, as well," he said, "I will have you know that I tried almost everything I brought back to you, and none of it has killed me yet, so I think you're safe." The only thing that wasn't safe was the fact that he had only had a few bites and his stomach was now bent on reminding him at every second just how hungry it was. His stomach pulsed with pain and hunger, his mouth practically watering at the mere thought of bread, cheese, and apples. It wasn't divine, but hell, it was food… and Amadeus was in no position to argue that.

Settling down next to her on the edge of the bed, Amadeus dusted his hands off on the knees of his trousers. His hands were dirty and his palms rubbed raw from work. It had been quite a long time since he had last known hard labor like that down in the village, but it felt good down to the marrow of his bones.

"So… hungry?" he asked, reaching for his bag and pulling it into his lap.

 

[Meraki]

Fira smiled when Amadeus came back to scoop up her waist and help her towards the bed. It was both a physical and mental reprieve and when she finally settled down on the edge of the bed, it was a welcomed change. Her bones almost creaked under the weight of her own existence, but in that moment she was more than happy enough. Sure, the world around them was crumbling, there was a man (and perhaps many more) who wished her the fullest extent of suffering and death, their army had taken huge blows and the people of this town were suffering – but Fira had to take thanks in the fact that she had a soft bed, two good hands, a loyal companion, and what smelled like bread, cheese and…apples?

"I think it will help too," she admitted, "I did not realize how hungry I was until I started moving around. I have lost count of how many days it's been, to be honest. Everything else just seemed more important."

"But I am certainly glad that you did not meet your end testing the food," Fira smiled, a soft laugh rippling through her as she teased him, "otherwise, it would have been a rather lonely lunch."

It all smelled so good. Her mouth was practically watering and while the estate had more luxurious means, she did not care. Food was food and she was not about to turn her nose up at a damn thing, especially when Amadeus was assured it was not poisoned. It was not a mistake she was willing to make twice, nor was it a suffering she ever wanted to feel again. She graciously took a piece of bread from him and she broke off a small piece, but she hesitated. She was between her grumbling and pained stomach and her aching throat that begged for nothing but water. Her coughs had done a number on the tissue and it was still a bit raw.

"Well," she exhaled, "here goes nothing."

She took a small bite and swallowed it down, Immediately, she winced and felt tears prickle behind her eyelids but she did not let them fall. It was painful, certainly, but she needed the food. She needed the strength, and she had to endure. That was it. Fira took another bite, and then another, slowly making her way through the bread and letting it settle in her stomach which, out of all of her body parts, felt the most joy. "Thank you for going to get this," she mentioned to Amadeus as she took a bit of cheese, "I know I sound paranoid."

She left it at that, shrugging and turning back to her food. It was a strange thing, facing death, and it was so intimate too. She remembered every moment, every heartbeat in her ears, and every single time Amadeus' face popped up in her mind as the final image she wanted to see. "How are the people? I know there are some who did not heed the warning, but did the rest manage to find safe ways out?"

 

[Nav]

After Fira had taken her bread, Amadeus took off a healthy hunk for himself (seeing as there was three loaves between them, which was more than enough and then some) and paired it with some cheese. He ate slowly and deliberately, though if his stomach was uncomfortable at all through the addition, he didn't show it in his face. In fact, he seemed quite relaxed as he ate. The taste was good—the rye bread crust nice and crispy but the inside soft, while the cheese was delicious and creamy. For his first few bites, he was silent, staring off into his space.

"Hm?" he stirred, hearing her voice and returning to reality. He blinked a few times before glancing off in her direction. "Oh, yea, no problem, it's no big deal," he offered in response, "I was out and about anyways, and I really don't mind." He understood her paranoia as it was well-placed. His lips upturned to a gentle smile as he took another good, solid bite from his bread and cheesed, and sighed contentedly. He didn't realize how desperately he needed it until his stomach began to fill. Everything sort of settled in him rather abruptly. The pain in his chest dulled just enough and a bit more vitality and dexterity returned to his fingers and toes. His eyes felt, and looked, brighter.

It felt good.

Using his pocket knife, he plucked up one of the apples and sliced it into two halves, extending one out towards Fira before biting down on his own half. He took the chewing as a moment to process and formulate an answer to her question. "The people are—" he paused, hesitant on how best to answer. "They are good. They are afraid. Many have decided to stay, many have decided to go. Some have already left, some are still packing and organizing," he explained, "You can't do anything more for them now, Fira," he reminded her, taking another bite of his apple.

He knew her because she shared his exact heart. She was warm and friendly, bubbling with life and laughter and the desire to see happiness in all people around her. It was hard for him to realize that, sometimes, there wasn't anything else he could do to help someone. Sometimes, he just had to realize that he was one man and could only do so much with what he had. He quickly finished up his apple and took another chunk of bread shamelessly, trying to starve out his hunger and glad he was.

"Have you thought about the army at all, yet?" he asked, "Where we're all going to go?" It was a question that had been settling on his tongue for some time and he finally felt comfortable enough to ask. Roth had caught him on his way out to the village, asking on the Queen's health… asking for direction. "I know you're struggling right now, but getting you to safety is my only priority."

 

[Meraki]

"I wish there was," Fira admitted, "but you are right. You usually are."

She wanted to do something more for the people, as it did not seem like enough apology for all that they had already lost in the fighting. Their sons, husbands, brothers and uncles – her war had taken their lives – but she also knew that the greatest gift she could give to them was to ensure that they did not die in vain. In order to do that, she needed to be strong, steady, and she could not let her anguish and guilt color their perception of her. A Queen as a Queen, and like Calliope said – it was time she started acting as such.

She took a bite of the apple and felt like she was greedy with the way she ate, but there were three loaves between them and plenty for their lunch and two more people. The cheese and bread filled her in every way she wanted it to, and though it pained her to eat she was happy that she did it. She needed it desperately. She paused mid-bite for his next question, though, and then mulled it over quietly in her mind before finishing her bite of bread and cheese.

"I'm fine," she exhaled, as though she was trying to convince herself of that, "I have thought about it. In my conversations with the Duke, we mulled over maps and discussed possible allies, as well as safe houses across the route from here to the main city. It is a question of what is most important – gaining ground, time constraints or ensuring the safety of our forces. I am sure you can guess where my preference lies."

She took a deep breath, her body feeling a bit more revitalized, but still tired down to her very marrow. "There is, uh—" Fira shifted to run her hand over the pillows and blankets until her hand slipped beneath and pulled out a folded map the Duke gave her before he passed. She opened it on her lap, ran her fingers over the creases to even it out and pointed to the map. "There is a compound here, a bit closer to the main city, moving back East and taking us out of the direct line of Peter's forces. It does not help our cause, really, beyond being safe and a good stronghold. If we were willing to move a bit West, we would gain quite a bit more ground, and we could head into the town of Vorelle. The young Baron there is an old family friend, fiercely loyal to my father, but not in such an outward way that would make him a target. More than that, though, he is loyal to the Duke, as he and the Baron's father were hunting companions. He does not have much in the way of an army, but if I remember him correctly, he is rather buoyant."

"But," she added, "if we move East, take time to regroup at the stronghold, and then move -- I have ties to the Doren family and Marisol, the Baroness, who just recently lost her father to sickness and he has no male heir. She had written many times to see if the Duke would be willing to procure her late-father's forces and I happen to know her well. It could be a chance, if we are willing to take a little time, to strengthen our forces and perhaps even take time to train before we face Peter again."

"I am more inclined to think the stronghold would be a stronger plan," Fira admitted, "but it puts us deeper into winter -- I just worry, that's all, but there are flaws in every plan. I just feel like every time I am learning something, it gets torn out from under me and I'm floundering."

 

[Nav]

They were not easy options, but in war, nothing was an easy option. As a man who understood wartime tactics, Amadeus knew he could offer his expertise. He could offer his advice on what would be the best course of action from a tactical point of view, but that didn't necessarily mean it'd be the best choice for Fira. He understood her hesitancy and fear of disposing of human lives unnecessarily, but war was a balancing act. Lives would have to be lost… lives would have to be destroyed, ruined, and ripped apart. A sigh decompressed his chest and he popped the last bite of bread into his mouth before sliding his fingers together in his lap.

"I could tell you what is the best thing to do from a tactical point of view," he said with a shrug, "But I suppose that is going to come down to whether or not you want to fight through the winter. On one hand, fighting through winter is extremely difficult—the terrain is rough, the weather unforgiving… it's dangerous for both sides and can be easy to use as an advantage if you're willing to take the risk. On the other hand, if you'd rather dig your heels in and hunker down for the worst of winter, you lose time. You risk losing support, you risk letting Peter dig his fingers deeper into the crown, you risk letting him bulk up his own forces. The longer you give him to prepare, Fira, the harder the fight will become. You have to remember that he has a war machine," Amadeus shrugged, looking down at the spot on the marble floor right between his worn boots.

His boots looked too destroyed and inelegant to be perched on such a beautiful floor.

"He can churn out a hundred arrows in an hour, and you can turn out a hundred arrows in a day. I don't—" he bit down on his tongue. A peasant had no right to voice his opinion to a Queen; he wasn't even a commander or an adviser. He was just some young man that the Queen had taken a keen liking to, but he wasn't sure that made him worthy of speaking his opinion to her. Ultimately, he realized the thought was silly, inhaled sharply, and continued.

"It's my opinion that the longer you give Peter, the worse off it'll be. He has a kingdom's worth of money and power, and he will keep spending that money until he has forces that will destroy you—destroy us. Whatever you decide, just remember that every minute you give yourself to prepare and to train, you are giving Peter a moment to prepare and train. I'm not saying there is one answer here, a right answer, but we barely… barely scraped out a victory at this estate, and that's only because Peter underestimated the Duke's army. I'm certain he won't make that mistake a second time around."

With that, Amadeus concluded his thoughts and glanced over to her, "War is about constantly learning. You just have to stay ahead of the curve," he gave her a friendly, shy smile before glancing away again and reclining back on his hands, letting his eyes fall closed sleepily. "You could also split your forces," he suggested, "It may sound like you're weakening your forces, but most armies don't operate as one large group. Guerrilla warfare is going to be your best opportunity. Head on, you don't stand good chances defeating all of Peter's forces at once. I don't think this war will be won destroying a wall in one hit, but taking it apart brick by brick."

 

[Meraki]

If there was one thing Fira was good at – it was listening.

Her father had built an entire kingdom on pretty words and empty promises – he said what the people wanted to hear, did what would receive the least grief, and Fira had found herself wondering how she was supposed to grow in that shadow. She was starting to think that she was not meant to. Who he was, her father, her brothers, it wasn't who she was. Fira did not rule on pomp and grandeur, on big words. Fira ruled with a keen eye, a gentle hand, a firm tongue and careful ears. When she spoke to people, she was entirely interested in what they had to say, and she adjusted and adapted based on what she knew. Being Queen was not a power trip for her, it was the opportunity to help people who had never been heard.

So she was more than welcoming when Amadeus threw his opinion on the fire and hoped it caught. He was right, there was a way that was right for war and a way that was right for Fira. She shook her head in frustration and just listened, let his words settle in her heart and her eyes glanced down at the map. He was right, moving forward was the best course of action. They would fight into the winter, there was no denying that fact, but taking too much time was not an option. Peter could adapt, but he could not change like Fira did. She was quick thinking and quick to adapt, while Peter had to meet the obstacle to learn how to overcome it. He would never make the mistake again, but he would anticipate the strongholds they could identify. He would never expect them to go to Vorelle.

The Baron, Nicholas, was quite fond of Fira as well. Or, at least, he had certainly tossed his name into the marriage pool once upon a time. Since then, he did not seem to be romantically enamored with her as much as he appreciated her fire. "So we split up the forces," she hummed to herself, her mind racing as she almost childishly tugged her feet up to cross underneath her, "It will be easier to move as well, we'll be faster than Peter's army and that's certainly an advantage."

"And maybe just adding Marisol's army to our own would expand the issue of being unprepared, I cannot imagine they have seen much battle – ever," Fira exhaled, "Okay. Wait."

Chess. It was like chess, and Fira had beaten Peter every single time.

"So we move forward as a smaller force, broken up," Fira hummed, dragging her finger across the map, "It also gives a vantage points on multiple sides of his forces. We pick and choose our battles – like you said, brick by brick."

"Peter will see any move we make as a retreat," Fira said finally, "and maybe it is, but not if we adapt faster than his forces do. We also have the advantage of proximity. No matter how we split the forces, messages will always travel faster for us because I am in the thick of it and Peter is safe behind palace walls. I will talk to Roth later; I assume he is plenty busy with his own men. After dinner, perhaps."

Fira yawned, cursing herself for being exhausted after just a short while of activity and conversation. In the middle of her processing, Fira glanced over at Amadeus as a thought of him popped in between thoughts of war. "Have you been caring for your wound?" she asked, assuming he had been given some sort of medicine to help his healing.

 

[Nav]

"Don't spread yourself too thin," he warned casually, "Breaking up troops is one thing, but breaking them up too finely is equally detrimental. It's a balance—a very precise and careful balance." Like riding a horse. One could sit in a saddle and flop around all day only to end up with a horse with a sore back, but to truly ride a horse, it took precise movements, balance, the ability to adjust and react, and a minor sense of humor. War had been built from the backs of horses, so Amadeus could only assume there was some parallel.

"Furthermore, I wouldn't suggest you set your eyes too heavily on just Marisol's army," he remarked, he lazily lifted a hand from his lap, trailing his finger along the frail paper map and pointing out how many villages stood between them and any direction they chose to move. "I agree that Marisol's army has likely never seen a battle in their life, but the men in these villages? That's where you're going to be able to find battle-hardened talent. Many men in small villages like these are gruesomely rough and tumble," Amadeus glanced up with a half-smirk, "I didn't learn any sort of military prowess being in the castle walls," he reminded her.

Peasants, for as talked down upon as they were, knew how to handle their own. They trained against wild animals threatening their stock and many served as bounty hunters for side work. They fought against Baron's trying to pillage and steal from them, and many of them were probably better versed in a sword or a bow than any man Fira would ever find in any army, Peter or otherwise. "If you can appeal to the men and women in these small villages? If you're able to supply them and arm them? They will fight for your with more strength and loyalty than any other army. They might not be as organized or trained, but that is easy. Training skill to a noble heart is easy, training nobility to a skilled heart is impossible."

Amadeus was no Queen; he wasn't a commander but he was smart and he could see the value in the small villages and if they were anything like Inverness had been, they were ripe and ready for change. Of course, Fira could be that change if she could appeal to them.

"Those are just my suggestions," he concluded idly, "If I were in your position, I'd try gathering up soldiers in those villages. I don't know Peter well, but from what I've learned, he seems to be the type to think highly of himself and his military, too highly to accept any mud blooded peasant into his ranks. He's missing a valuable opportunity, fortunately for you."

Amadeus' hand fell back down to the other and he laced his fingers together once more, giving a shrug. "Roth is regrouping the men," he explained when she commented on him, "They are helping the villagers where they can. He has some working on repairs and he has hired some blacksmiths to begin brandishing swords, arrows, horseshoes, and armor. It's slow going, but it's… it's going, I suppose."

He glanced to Fira, catching her gaze when the conversation took a sudden turn towards him, something he hadn't been expecting for a beat. "Have I? No, of course I haven't," he said matter-of-factly (knowing there was no point in trying to lie to Fira). "I think I was supposed to change the bandages at some point," he remarked, "I haven't, naturally."

 

[Meraki]

"I am sure it will go well," Fira shook her head, her braid swinging ever so slightly back and forth as she did, "It worked incredibly well with Calliope."

Whether or not she deserved to, Fira felt incredibly guilty. Not only had she taken the man she loved for her own, she had been a large part of the reason why her husband was killed in the first place. Had it not been for Fira, she would have been living her life without change, enjoying her gardens and wealth, all without ever having to deal with the little nuisance of a Queen in her midst. Fira understood that she could not let it drag her down or compromise her role as Queen, but deep in her heart – deep in her good heart— Fira felt for the woman and did her best not to agitate.

Sometimes, Fira wondered what she had to offer the people besides death and destruction but she had grown a bit out of that as the months rolled by. She knew now that appealing to the people of the villages meant being accessible, it meant caring, it meant learning what exactly it was they wanted and they needed and how she could best help them. For a long time she had wondered about those very things in Inverness, but the moment she stopped looking at herself as a royal and instead as a person with the gift of enacting change – things started to change. "Going is better than stopping," Fira admitted, "I will not bother him now then. I am not sure I could leave this room right now if I wanted to."

She was so tired already. It was a healing process, a slow amble towards a clean bill of health but if she had already made this much progress in a few days, she knew she would be ready to move sooner rather than later. That, and while everyone else wanted her at peak health to travel, Fira knew the moment the fire in her heart spread back to her muscles, she would be itching to move.

At his comment about his wound, Fira did something rather unladylike, but very like her and reached for his tunic, shifting it up to poke her nose in his business. Fira shook her head with a laugh, knowing all too well what the answer would be. "Hold still," she said warmly, moving her fingers under the fabric and over his bare skin to catch the edge of the bandaging. It was stained, certainly in need of a change, but she had also never realized how deep the wound had been. She kept the worry from her eyes, instead moving in closer to get a look at the wound. It was not infected, yet, but the bandaging certainly needed changing.

"Take your shirt off," Fira smirked up at him, "Queen's order, so you have to do it, right? That is how this royalty thing works?"

Her tone was warm, playful even as she moved to reach for the end table. In the top drawer were the bandaging she had sent up to deal with the shallow wound on her leg, but there was plenty there to bandage back up Amadeus' wound. She would never ever command him to do anything, but in the inviting atmosphere in the room left her certainly open to tease him a bit.

But she also hoped that if she started at him doe-eyed a bit, he would fold and let her help him.

 

[Nav]

Amadeus knew Fira was burdened by the weight of the guilt of what had happened to Calliope, and he couldn't blame her. While he didn't think she was at fault for what happened, for Peter would storm through these lands sooner or later, he could understand how she felt. Just a few months prior, he had gone through the same emotions wondering if maybe there had been something he could have done to save Rosalie. Maybe if he hadn't left, maybe if he had fought harder, maybe if he had been smarter, maybe, maybe, maybe. It was hard not to live a life based on maybes, but he was optimistic in knowing Fira was much better at moving on than he was.

She was a good woman, that Fira. Better than most other women he had ever met and it caused warmth to surge through his face that had been missing over the past few days, especially. Immediately, his eyes softened and he chuckled softly, "I'm sure Roth will come to you in time. I wouldn't worry about going to hi—oh," he paused in surprise when her hand fell against his chest. It really shouldn't have surprised him, seeing as no part of their relationship had ever been proper, but it surprised him all the same as he had been expecting a scolding, not a warm hand.

"Right away, your majesty," he ended up chuckling softly, a sound that was delightful and had not seen the light of day nearly enough since being on the Duke's estate. Reaching for the hem of his tunic, Amadeus pulled it over his head and balled it up between his hands. His skin below was cinnamon with tan and the strength of his shoulders showed in the twining cords of muscles that shaped his entire chest. The only object distracting from his understated charm was the gnarly wound across his chest—a wound that could have very well killed him had it not been for the fact that the ax head met the extremely resilient breastbone.

"You're getting a little spoiled with all this power you're wielding now, aren't you?" he teased, his mood shifting to one of a bit more jovial nature as they interacted. For the first time since the evening before the battle, he stopped thinking about the battle. All the terrible thoughts that had collected in his mind suddenly fell away, leaving behind the charming, good-natured farm boy who had a bright smile and a delightful laugh. "Soon you're going to demand that I scrub your floor and polish your shoes, hm?" He chuckled, shaking his head playfully and sitting back.

With balanced breathing, he tried to focus on Fira instead of the sudden searing pain rippling through his chest as she began to peel the bandaging away. The wound yelped out in pain and Amadeus' pleasant expression twisted with discomfort, but he didn't so much as make a peep, though he wanted to. He desperately wanted to whine or scream out in pain, but he held his tongue.

"Talk to me, please," he barely managed to breathe out, "I don't care what you talk about, but I need something else to listen to and focus on as you work."

 

[Meraki]

"Certainly not," Fira feigned offense, "I have no need for anyone to scrub my floor or polish my shoes. I am, however, in the market for a palm leave fanner and grape feeder. Now that would be something and I hardly call that spoiled, Master Osmont."

It felt brilliant to be laughing and the air of the room was inviting, loving. For a moment, even in the midst of war, she felt like herself. She felt like the Fira that Amadeus had prompted to show him something amazing and went scaling behind a waterfall. She loved to see Amadeus smile, too. His laugh was the most jovial sound she had ever heard and it brightened every inch of her features. Tired or not, she was never too tired for this. For them.

Her hands moved to work on his wound, his shirt balled up and forgotten, but she was not to busy to miss the way the image of him made her heart skip. He was handsome, almost unbearably so, and she had seen him shirtless time and time again but something was different that time. With the burning, angry wound against his breastbone and the thick corded muscle of his shoulders, she gratuitously let her hands slide over the unmarred skin before she made her way to the wound. It was red and angry, but the bleeding had stopped and whatever the medic had given him to put on it had shielded it from infection. She immediately felt his body react, his face contorted, and she moved carefully with gentle hands.

His words came as a surprise, and she glanced up to him before turning her green eyes towards his wound. His breath was shaky, body tense, and she worked as efficiently as she could to minimize the pain. "You want to listen to me talk? Are you not in enough pain?" she teased, the smile ever present on her lips.

"I am not sure, we—" she hummed, trying to find something to talk about, "Do you remember our first adventure? I had this really hazy dream when my body was working through the poison, but it was almost surreal. We had no idea who the other was back then, not really, and you followed me down a cliff side and behind a waterfall. I know you were trying to help your people, but I think about that memory more than most things. More than my father, the palace or anything. I think, even before we went into town, that moment changed everything for me. Sometimes when things get tough, I think back to that moment. It just – brings me a lot of joy."

"I am not sure I would be the woman I am if it were not for you appeasing the wishes of a wild princess," Fira laughed gently, "Almost done." Her hands worked quickly, the bandaging wrapping snugly around him and easing the tension. "There we go," she smiled, running her fingers over the unmarred skin and looking up to him, "Not necessarily good as new, but at least it will not get infected and get worse. I am a Queen, not a miracle worker it seems."

 

[Nav]

"Clearly, I'm not suffering enough," he said with a small smile, though it was burned with a wince and not nearly as pleasant as it had been just five minutes prior now that Fira was working his wound. It wasn't pleasant, that was for sure, but he honed in on the sound of her voice and focused on keeping his breaths steady and deep. He would have commented on her witty banter regarding palm fanning and grape feeder, but his sense of humor had been temporarily drained from him as he focused instead on just not whining like a small child. It hurt, and rightfully so, but he just closed his eyes and centered himself.

She spoke of a moment he remembered quite clearly. As a farm boy from a small, poor village, he thought nothing of clamoring over precariously stacked rocks. Then again, that's what he and other children of the village did for fun all throughout his childhood; he had never considered that having someone agree to go with her was something wildly new to Fira's closed off, little world. He had agreed to go with not because he thought it would cause some huge impact on her, but because it was just natural for him. Even as a young adult living in Inverness, he still went and climbed trees and tiptoed dangerously close to rocky cliff-sides.

"I remember," he remarked, exhaling a snort forcibly through his nostrils though not at her memory. "I'm glad that it's important to you." There were lots of memories that stuck with him most prominently, but it had been quite some time since he last thought about the waterfall. Her mention of it brought a gentle smile to his lips that only broadened a smudge when she mentioned being nearly done. Thank god—not a moment too soon.

"I'm not entirely sure why that impacted you so deeply though," his eyes opened again, gentle and soft as she tied off the bandage. With her hands sliding away and the wound no longer being jostled, the searing pain began to subside into more of a dull ache, allowing his posture and expression to relax. "Thank you," he caught her gaze as she looked up to him. With her fingers still against his skin, he could feel the soft bristle of awareness shiver down his spine. Not for a second did he ever forget how lovely she was, or how her touch could give him goose bumps.

Thankfully, he didn't need a miracle worker as he doubted they existed anyway. So long as it was good enough that he could keep moving without the risk of infection, he was happy with that. "I'm sure it's fine," he remarked, "You've never let me down before, so I'm not inclined to believe you'll let me down now."

Tipping his weight forward, he pressed a gentle peck against her cheek. "Now, how are you feeling? Have you had enough to eat? Do you need to lie down again and rest some more?" She had exerted herself quite a bit and he worried… it was his job to.

 

[Meraki]

"Me either, but," Fira hummed, not really making any move to shift her hands from where they rested on his chest, "if I had to guess, I think it was the first time I ever felt like myself. I lived a wonderful, charmed life – I am not denying that – but my whole life I was just never quite enough. Never enough of a son to my father, never enough of a pawn for Peter, never enough of a lady for court…my whole life, even know, has been this strange identity crisis. A balancing act. But you did not argue, you did not question, you just followed me even though you had no idea who I was, really."

"But I felt like you did," she shrugged, "it was the first time I felt like anyone did."

At his thanks, she smiled softly, "You're welcome." It was the least she could do. He was always worried about her, always there when she needed him even if it took him a minute to be there. When she had been poisoned, she tossed and turned and longed for him – but he was there when she woke from it all. That was what mattered and she would be there for him in any way that she could. Even if that meant just patching him up once in a while and reminding him to sleep or eat. Amadeus didn't need her, he was well-versed in the world and strong – but she liked to feel useful sometimes. She liked to make his life easier when she could.

His lips found her cheek and Fira very obviously blushed at his words and one of her hands automatically came up in embarrassment to brush the tendrils of hair from her face. You've never let me down before. She remembered vividly the way he had scolded her in her room before he left, telling her that her word meant nothing to the people, only action. She had promised him then that she would do anything and everything she could to help and to hear him tell her that she had not let him down caused her heart to swell. It was the greatest compliment he had ever given her.

The conversation quickly turned to her, and she shook her head. He always did that – never let the focus be on himself for too long. "I'm well, tired but not sleepy. I like sitting here like this, resting, but I don't think I could stomach another bite of food. It hurt a thousand times worse than I anticipated."

 

[Nav]

The blush was warm below his lips and it caused him to chuckle a bit, mostly because he never expected it. Fira was a strong woman who didn't often fall into what most would consider traditional feminine traits. She didn't swoon or flippantly skip around the court. She didn't often giggle or gossip or have wandering eyes over the top of her tea mug as she sipped it. There were many expectations of what a woman was supposed to be, especially a noblewoman, but Fira rarely fulfilled any one of them. It was his favorite part about her—the fierce, Wiley spirit-- but there was something about her that just absolutely charmed him whenever she blushed, knowing that he was the cause for it.

As a hot blooded male, there was something endearing about knowing that he was quite possibly the only person in the world who could cause Fira to pause and redden in the cheeks like she did. Maybe there were others—in the past or in her future—who would be able to do the same, but none of those mattered in the present. All he cared about was that he could do it now, and that he never had any intention of taking advantage of his ploy over her. When she asked for his opinion or thoughts, he gave her honest answers, even if those answers were probably not the answers she wanted to hear. He never unnecessarily blew hot air up her metaphorical skirt to appease her, but in those moments that he did delight her… they were magic.

Absolutely delightful magic.

"Very well, then no more food. I'll leave it here for you though. I know it hurts, but you should try and eat a little bit more today, alright? It's safe and you need it, I'm sure. It'll do you well." He wasn't sure when the next opportunity he'd have to go out into the village and get her food again would be, so he was happy to leave what he had picked up with her. After all, he doubted anyone in the estate house was trying to poison someone like Amadeus, so he didn't feel terribly uncomfortable eating from the pantry. Most people hardly noticed him at all—as if he was just a ghost ambulating the hallways, invisible to everyone except Roth and Fira.

"Mmm, I could take an apple to the ice house, if you'd like? Perhaps if it was chilled, it might be a bit easier on your throat." He didn't know if it would help at all, but he was just trying to find her alternatives to make eating a little less of a chore. "But in the meantime, we can sit here and rest." She had, after all, asked him to not push himself too hard and he was finally recognizing that he was reaching his limit physically, especially after she had changed his bandage and his body saw it fit to remind him just how injured he truly was.

 

[Meraki]

"I think you have done plenty of worrying about me today. I can find a way to manage it," Fira smiled gently, running her fingers over his and letting herself lay down with her head in his lap, her wild black curls splayed out. The last thing she wanted was him running around needlessly when he needed to heal. The wound in his chest made him a bit slower in his movements and she knew Amadeus – he never cared for himself over the needs of others. He needed to let it heal just a bit so that they were both ready to move forward when the time came. She assumed Roth would be back later that evening with a request to speak with her, but until then, she was entirely his.

And she was going to take advantage of having him there, especially when she knew how hard these next few days would be mentally and physically.

She just laid there with her eyes closed though she had no intention of sleeping, she just wanted to rest her head and she tucked his arm over her to make it homey and warm. She wondered for a moment if it even mattered to dye her hair anymore, or if she could finally just exist as herself, but she figured that would be a question for Roth. After all, it would not come out until she bathed again and she did not have any intentions of doing so today. There was still an anxiety that pooled in her chest, but she tried to work through it because the last thing the people needed was a Queen who was scared.

Fear could drive you, but letting it consume you meant losing focus – and Fira would not lose focus now, not when they were so far into this.

"Good," she breathed out with a smile on her lips, "We could both use it. Your wound is healing well, but I can only imagine how much energy it is draining out of you. You deserve to rest a bit, too, even if you never think so." She teased just a little bit with a soft laugh. Something had brightened between them and it seemed that the brutally honest conversation they had and night of rest did them both some serious good. It taught Fira that she was not going to let these moments slip her by, not when she did not know of his decision to leave or not. Even if he decided to stay by her side instead of leading the cavalry, Fira wanted to make sure that every moment with Amadeus was spent as it should be. Her near-death experience had proved that nothing was guaranteed and if she were to die tomorrow, she wanted Amadeus to know that she loved him unconditionally every single moment.

Even when they were apart.

 

[Nav]

"Alright, alright," he concluded when she informed him he really ought to be done worrying. It was hard for him to swallow the notion down that he wasn't meant to spend every living moment of his day worrying about her, but he did his best and settled in against the comforting surface of the mattress with a contented sigh. He forgot how good it felt to sit down and let his muscles relax after a long day—especially when he had begun to feel like a coil wound too tightly, or a rubber band pulled too tight. Nothing was feeling quite right—his joints ached, his chest hurt, his muscles throbbed… everything from the pads of his fingers out to every neuron gave dull pulses of pain.

When her head fell into his lap, Amadeus slid his fingers through her hair, gently pushing them way from her forehead and working his hands through the locks. He tugged out any knots he came across, leaving tumbles of hair spilling over his legs and brushing the bed below him. The gesture didn't last long though before she took his arm and guided it around herself, which he allowed to settle comfortingly.

"It's doing a number on me," he replied with a beat of hesitation, as he was ever quite sure how much of his weaknesses he wanted to share with anyone. He trusted Fira above everyone else he was surrounded by, but even with her it took a bit to convince himself to tell her how he was feeling—really feeling—especially when it came to normal human shortcomings like exhaustion, hunger, cold, or pain. He always figured it'd just be easier for her if she could believe he didn't experience those things like everyone else. That she had so much on her plate already, he felt guilty taking up any amount of it—even just a small corner. "It feels like all my energy is just leeching out through this hole in my chest." He knew that's not how it worked, but it certainly felt like it did.

All his life he had been told a great number of things by the people around him—he was just a peasant—and it tailed his doggedly all his life.

He slumped back against the headboard, the back of his head hitting the wood with a soft 'thump' as his eyes rolled closed. It felt damn good and he allowed himself to not feel guilty for once. It took a second to wrestle down the initial feeling that he needed to get back out there, but once it seeped away, every muscle in his body seemed to relax. It was clear he wasn't sleeping by his expression—thoughtful—but relaxed.

"I wonder how Inverness is doing," he thought aloud, "I hope they're all well."