My Last Amen

[Meraki]

Amadeus never shared when he was hurting. It wasn't because he didn't trust her, she knew that, but he had this constant nobility that made him believe that his own problems did not amount to anything in the grand scheme of things. The truth was – everyone was insignificant in some way. Even Fira. What were monarchs to the rest of the world? To the sun? The moon? To a benevolent being? But he was not insignificant, not to her. Her entire little world revolved around him. Without the crown, he had found the Fira that had long since been lost in the pretty dresses and crippling expectation. He never belittled her feelings, never told her that she was wrong for feeling what she did – whether she was hurt, sad, or sick.

And to hear him admit that he was hurting actually eased the burden on her heart. If she knew what was wrong, she could help, but when he kept to himself and rushed off to help, she just worried.

At his admittance and her head in his lap, she brought her hand up to rest on his thigh, her thumb rubbing gentle, soothing circles. She was no medic, but the least she could do was be there for him and give him some comfort. "I hope so too," she admitted, though she had no way of knowing. With Peter's forces focused here, she hoped that it took some of the pressure off the other villages, but she did not doubt that Peter would have sent soldiers at the news of the Baron's death. The people of Inverness were strong, they would be able to deal with a few soldiers, and with Fira gone – they had nothing to hide. The culprits were long gone and Liam was more than capable of seeing to it that his people were well taken care of.

She hoped his mother was well, too.

"It always feels so strange to have these quiet moments before the storm," Fira admitted quietly, "With everything that has happened, I thought people would be more frantic, but I suppose war just becomes a way of living. I was very, very young when the war with Loran ceased. It always just felt like a distant thought."

 

[Nav]

The small circle her thumb worked into his thigh was enough to cause all of his muscles to relax. In the grand scheme of things, it was hard to remember when and how he was important when it felt like everyone else was so much worse off than he was. He had a mission though and sometimes that felt like that was the the only important thing. It was so easy to get wrapped up in the war to get Fira to the throne, he sometimes forgot about everything else. His life, his happiness, his wellbeing never felt as important as Fira and the throne, so rationalising that it was okay to discuss himself was hard, even in that moment.

She was in a position to change the lives of so many people for the better in a way he could never fathom but it was the same old argument he had been having with himself for weeks.

"I grew up with it-- war," he explained. He had never felt particularly far from the violence of it all. It had become something of second nature for him. That was the difference between the social elites and the peasants: the amount of contact with the violence around them. "Well, we are in it now, though I'm not sure I can even say we're in the thick of it yet." A frown pressed into his cheeks, his fingers pausing in a tangle of her hair. "But I suppose there is no point in worrying about it now. We got calm, we should use it to rest and prepare. We will need to leave soon. Once we do that, there will be no more moments like this. Not for a long time, anyways." Again, his fingers began to work through her hair, "but never forget that I love you, alright? No matter how far apart we become."

 

[Meraki]

"No, certainly not the thick of it."

Fira knew it would get worse. She knew that there would be death and grief, pain and blood, all the signs of the damn omen that Peter believed her to be. People would be lost, others taken, and someday there would be a face-off between the rightful Queen and the crooked King, but someday was coming sooner than she anticipated. While she had not spoken with Roth yet, she had an idea of what she wanted to do, and by splitting the military she would be able to create a wider purview. They needed to be as widespread as possible without losing their strength, so maybe their wingspan would not be particularly wide, but they would be able to attack Peter's men with a greater chance of success.

And should Fira be able to rally people from the villages and towns to fight alongside them, then the war would only grow but at this point – it had to. This was not the kind of war fought by two people, but in the end that's what it would come to. Who had a ruler standing at the end of this game? Peter believed that he would be the rightful King, but Fira was a Queen and was more adaptable on the board. Only time would tell and she would be ready for it. She would be ready for the end, no matter how the odds were stacked – she would fight for this kingdom, for her people, until Peter ran a blade straight through her.

Amadeus' words caused Fira to sit up slightly, her hair in tousled curls from his fingers working through them. The expression was not one of sadness or heartbreak, but of understanding. "I know you do," Fira smiled gently, "I could never forget that. Not in a hundred lifetimes."

"And no matter what happens, no matter how this ends – with Peter and I," Fira admitted for the first time aloud, but her words were so much more certain than they had ever been, "just – know that I love you, too, and I will always love you. We would have never made it this far if it was not for you."

"No matter how this story ends," she added, brushing a bit of hair from his eyes, "You helped me find the strength to change and adapt and survive. You are the only thing I have ever been sure of in my entire life."

 

[Nav]

As Fira sat up, Amadeus' hand slipped away for a moment so she could settle into her new position, looking across at him with a firm gaze in her eyes. He didn't regret seeing it, not even for a moment, because he knew it meant she was getting stronger. She was getting stronger—physically, spiritually, emotionally, and that was what she would need in this battle of wits. Naturally, it didn't guarantee her a win as nothing did, but she was setting herself up to have a chance. If she was victorious, it would be a bloody victory—one she had to scrape through hell to win but a soldier with any wits would have placed their money on Peter.

Fortunately, Amadeus did not seem to be a many of many wits at all. He had put everything he owned on the line for her—his existence, his comforts, his home… everything he had ever owned down to his very life and if he lost it all, if Fira lost, he would not be disappointed by his choices.

"Perhaps not," he said with a chuckle when she mentioned that they never would have been able to make it as far as they had without him, "But now you have the skills to keep on in this fight. You are in a good position, Fira, so long as you keep yourself focused and attentive to the end goal." He knew, above all else, Fira had a tendency to get wound up in her own head especially when it came to accounting for the loses. It was that sympathetic and pained side of her he adored desperately, but he was also aware of how dangerous a weakness it was—and how easily Peter could exploit it for his own gains.

"And don't worry, I know you love me," he settled back against the pillows, "You don't let me forget… even if I wanted to," a chuckle passed through him, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she moved to brush hair away from his face. "That aside, you'll get more confident. You'll become sure of more things as you go along. You'll become as sure of yourself in this entire mess as I am."

 

[Meraki]

"I hope you're right," Fira breathed out as he brushed her hair back from her face. Being attentive to the end goal was difficult when she felt like they still had so very far to go, but she would do her best. She had to keep in mind that whatever they fought through, whatever they suffered and lost, they would ensure was not in vain by defeating Peter and reclaiming the throne. It went against ever moral bone in her damn body, but Fira would have to work through it and ensure that she could be the best version of herself for the people. She would not be able to stop every war or save every possible lost life, but she could make sure that whatever she did it was for the good of the people, for the good of the kingdom, and to build a future for those who thought they might never have one.

There was a lot riding on her shoulders. A crippling amount, really. But then she thought about who she had been when Amadeus sought her out, and she was glad for the use. She had dreamed of a world where her opinion mattered and her hands were good for something other than embroidery, and here they were. Her skin was still soft, but there were callouses forming from her sword, her hair shorter and her eyes more determined than ever. She was a Queen, the future depended on her and she depended on the counsel around her – on Amadeus, on Roth, on the Duke before his passing. The difference between Peter and Fira was that Fira saw worth in everything, and Peter saw worth in nothing but himself.

"Did you, um," Fira mentioned, ignorant of his own inner monologue, "I know you were thinking about going with the Calvary and with Roth – is that what you want? Have you decided?"

"Because whatever you choose, you're invaluable. No matter where you are in all of this, people will be better for having you there – and I…" she shook her head with a laugh, "I doesn't matter. It is your decision and I will support you no matter what, you know that right?"

 

[Nav]

Amadeus was obviously in a relaxed state as his back molded into the pillows. In the distance, there was the low hum of the army moving just outside the stately home, but far enough away not to bother him. His eyes were still closed as he let his limbs fall loose, head tilting backward, indenting the patterned fabric. Unaware of his own heart beating or the rise and fall of his chest, he drifted into a semi-consciousness, awake and alert, but entirely at ease. The ball of tension that had built through his chest seemed to have dissipated, at least for the time being, and the dull ache of his wound soothed into a soft tapping—entirely ignorable for the moment.

"I have," he uttered his response to her question, but offered no immediate elaboration on his response, as if he was trying to savor every last drop of his peaceful moment. With a sigh, his eyes cracked open and he looked across to her, his hands still neatly folded across his center. He looked divinely patient and serene, but contemplative, as if he was staring at a complicated math problem. Finally, after several long moments of saying nothing at all, he smiled, "I've gone back and forth with myself extensively over the last few hours," he admitted, "Trying to figure out what is right, what is best. I'm torn because on one hand, I love you and every moment I'm around you, I'm happy, but on the other… on the other, I realize I'm no good to you here, not really, anyways. You have an entire personal guard that can do exactly what I can do at the same level or in some cases, even better."

"The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that it's not my decision at all." He had spent so much time going back and forth that he hadn't even considered the fact that Fira was the leader in every and all situation, and what Amadeus ultimately wanted didn't matter. Just like every other soldier on the field just underneath the bedroom window that was across the room from them, Amadeus' duty was to serve the Queen. "I am a soldier and you are the Queen, so you need to tell me what you need me to do and I will do it with everything in me I have."

Maybe it was a bit of a cop out, but Amadeus had finally settled on the fact that he couldn't—or shouldn't—be given special privileges over the other young men in her army. They had no say in their fates and they did what they were told, how could Amadeus be any different? For hours, he had flipped back and forth, wrestled with his own thoughts and desires, but in that way Fira was wrong—her I was the only I that mattered.

 

[Meraki]

"But it's not your protection I need," Fira said finally, listening carefully to every word he spoke, "I need your counsel, your wisdom, and I know it is a selfish decision – I hate myself for that – but I am beginning to realize exactly what it is I need to do, and I need you. I am a better woman and Queen with you here. So if it is my decision, of course I will choose for you to remain. You understand Roth far better than I do, your mind is sharp and you know the people of this kingdom better than I do."

"If I am going to be the Queen of this land, I am going to serve the people first, and there is no stronger way to build that legacy than to start with this foundation. To have more opinions than just high ranking noblemen and to actually understand the root of what we're doing here."

"I don't want to be my father," she admitted finally, "You're part of the reason I'm not."

Maybe it was selfish, but she if she had the choice she would make it. That was what he kept telling her, right? To get better and to be more confident in her decisions? She could not guarantee his safety at her side, nor could she really make him do anything, but she had started this journey with him and she intended to finish it with him. He deserved to have a hand in figuring out just what Rhielith should be, because he was the one who found her. He was the one who stood up and told her about the injustices, after all.

She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes for a moment knowing that they wouldn't have much time beyond this for little romantic moments. They were both pretty beaten up, but this was as good as it was going to get and she wasn't about to let it slip through her fingers. "If you had met me in another life," Fira asked quietly, "Do you think we would have ended up like this? Together?"

 

[Nav]

"Then I stay," he stated, summing up her long speech with only a few very short words himself. If she wanted someone who understood the working man, there was no one better than Amadeus. He was the working man and had been all his life. His remarkableness was exactly what made him remarkable: he was painfully simple and knew how best to throw his weight into the leathers and work, because it was all he had ever known. War was war, there was no two ways about it, but whatever position made him the most useful… than that was the position he needed to be in. Life or death, the outcome of the upcoming struggles was about more than just his world and his place in it. Already, he knew there wouldn't be an ounce of regret in him if he didn't see a better Rhielith in his own time.

Eventually, it would happen. Perhaps not in his lifetime, perhaps not even in the next generation's lifetime, but eventually, it would come to light. That was worth fighting for in any capacity, even if he knew he very well might not reap the rewards from it.

"I don't think I really made you anything," he pointed out tenderly, "I didn't make you any less like your father. I merely offered you a way to make that choice for yourself." He had forcibly turned her eyes towards the injustices of her very own people—perhaps a bit more literately than he would have cared to admit. She could have chosen to ignore it; she could have chosen to pretend it wasn't there at all… she could have seen him sentenced to death for impersonating a nobleman. She could have done a lot of things, but she did the one he had been least expecting all along.

Her head thumped against his chest and a hasty breath decompressed his lungs as pain spurred through him for an instant. "Well," he said, "I don't believe in other lives or reincarnation or anything, but if I did? I don't know." It probably wasn't an answer she wanted to hear, but had it not been for desperation and corruption, they never would have met at all. "I think if things were different, we wouldn't have met, no. How would we? If things were good enough for me and my family, Inverness, to survive, I never would have left it. You never would have come to it, either, I'm sure."

His hand trailed down her hair, through the curled, slightly knotted tendrils. He spread his fingers to let the strands course between them. "So, I guess my answer is no… probably not."

 

[Meraki]

"Neither do I," Fira admitted, "but it makes me glad to live this life."

It was a little silver lining. Sometimes in the grand scheme of things, she felt like they were mere insects to the rest of the world, but it was everything to her. Nothing was easy in their lives, but it gave her a moment of reprieve that she so desperately needed. A single moment for her mind to slow, her breathing to even and the tension in her shoulders to relax. She was beginning to learn that in all this madness, she had to keep something for herself. She was the Queen, commander of the armies, and rightful heir to the throne but she was just Fira deep down.

And she deserved this – a single moment to carry her through.

With Amadeus by her side, Fira just let herself focus on the one thing they needed more than anything to continue moving forward. She needed to heal. It was not much time at all after they decided to forgo the stronghold and move towards Doren in hopes of rallying the villagers to join their forces. It would take some time to ready that much in the way of supplies, but the Duke's forces were quick and within a few days it would seem they were nearly ready to depart. Fira, by then, was up and out of bed whether it was the best thing for her or not. She kept her water intake up, managed a bath unattended for the sake of her own sanity, and dressed in clean clothes for the upcoming trip.

Her and Amadeus had really only seen one another for meals and in passing, but she knew that they needed to work to their strengths to ready the troops for such extended movement. They would move in sections, smaller but not so small that they became targets themselves. The real issue, was Calliope, though Fira would never say it aloud. The woman sat and shot daggers with her eyes at Fira and while she never really undermined, Fira knew her feelings. It was hard to live under the crushing guilt of taking both the man she loved and her husband from her.

It was never Fira's intention, but she was beginning to realize that she was the Queen. People would die, but she had to work to ensure that death was never in vain. Every life had a purpose and she refused to let herself forget about the Duke, but she would have to use it to drive her – even when the guilt ate away at her resolve in the late hours of the evening.

It was beginning to get cold, the frost icing the tips of the grass as she walked outside to assess the progress. She never went anywhere unattended anymore, but the guards stood a few yards back and allowed her some space. She figured she would find Amadeus out by the horses, as the trip was upon them.

"Ama?" Fira called out as she stepped into the stable, "I know you're in here somewhere…" Her tone was teasing, quite a bit brighter than it had been before. There was hope, even if only a sliver, and she would not let go of it.

 

[Nav]

If the injury has taken anything out of Amadeus in the passing days, he hadn't shown it. He worked impossible hours—preparing, preparing, and preparing some more, only stopping to eat and when he physically could not go on any longer and he would drag himself into bed. Seeing Fira was only fleeting interludes in his days, though Calliope spent more and more time around him. She often followed him around, not really speaking so much as just giving herself something to do. Occasionally, she'd come out to the stables and stroll up and down the cobblestone paths, peeking into each stall as she discussed, at length, her desire for spring again.

That particular evening proved too cold for Calliope though, and Amadeus was left alone in the stables enclosed in the musty smell of hay and the soft snorts of breath being expelled through horse nostrils. Thin, frozen puddles cracked under his boots. The bitter cold seeped through his woolen mittens, numbing his fingers until they felt thick and stiff. It was one of those evenings that made Amadeus sorry that autumn had gone by so fast. The damp sank right into his bones, reducing his skin to what felt like frozen paper. The sky was a uniform grey and the rain fell in a fine mist that frosted over immediately on impact. The horses stood stiff and uncomfortable in the stalls, their coats growing thick and puffy, as they continued to munch on their suppers.

Amadeus polished tack and brushed down the animals. It was a chore he could have easily given away to a soldier or a barn-hand, but he enjoyed it. He missed the simplicity of the work—the mindlessness of hay to stall, hay to stall, brush to coat, brush to coat. The entire cavalry took up three stables, all bigger than Amadeus had ever seen before, but he always took the Northern-most stable for himself because that's where Bo was kept. The big grey was oddly out of sorts with the other, sleek, gorgeous, well-bred animals. He was tall and lanky, littered in scars, with a coat that didn't have the typical gloss that was expected. Not to mention that he just looked a little funny, but whenever Amadeus walked past, the big horse limbered over and shoved his nose over the stall wall.

He kept doing it, too, until Amadeus finally stopped and playfully rubbed his nose. "What?" Amadeus asked, "You as cold as I am? I can't feel my toes." He wiggled his toes in his boots just to be sure they were still there. Bo nickered kindly, digging his nose deeper into Amadeus' hand and blowing a soft snort.

The sound of the barn door opening caused the horses to stir in their stalls to get a look at what was going on. Though he couldn't see the doors, he could hear the sound of Fira's voice almost immediately. He gave Bo's cheek one last pat before he straightened himself and dusted off the last bit of stall shavings from the front of his jacket. "Hello," he called back informally, expecting that she was looking for an update. They had, after all, been on a strict work-only diet of late. With her guards, there wasn't much time to do anything but smile politely at one another in passing.

"I'm here, yes," he swung around the aisle and approached her, "Here for an update, I assume? The horses are well. A few of them are still showing signs of inflammation and discomfort from battle injuries, but as a whole, the team is ready to be tacked and depart at a moment's notice. I've heard that there is a cold running through the cavalry soldiers though."

 

[Meraki]

Fira was glad to see Amadeus' face peek out around the aisle as he made his way towards her. It had felt like a lifetime since she had last seen him for more than a fleeting moment. The guards were outside, but in here – it was the first time she had been alone with him since that night in her chambers, lying together and trying to figure out what the world had in store for them. When she was away from Ama, she felt like she needed the guards as a precaution but with him – it felt good to not have someone hovering over her shoulders. It almost felt like being back at the palace, roaming through the corridors and woods without a single guard or dignitary to stop her.

"Good to hear," Fira nodded at the update and took a moment to breathe. "We should be mobilized in the morning, given that the weather is fair enough for travel. One more night to rest."

"Yes, I heard that too," she added, smiling at the familiar sight of Bo and the way he stood out from the crowd. He was a good horse. "But it seems to be a few sniffles. Hopefully leaving earlier will get us to our destination before the entire cavalry runs ill. We hope to beat the first real snowfall, but our odds are looking grim with the way the sky hangs."

She shrugged, letting a cough ripple through her. Her lungs were still a bit sensitive and the cold, biting air certainly did not help at all. But it was good, it felt good to be out in the fresh air even if it was frigid. "My other request," she smirked and shrugged, "was to see if you would be free this evening from your long and arduous work schedule to maybe have supper with me? I'm not sure either one of us has taken a break in the last week, but I think that at least one meal will do us some good."

She had already asked Calliope to join them as well, but the woman scoffed and declined the invitation. Not that Fira blamed her, but she certainly tried to include her. After all, it was Fira's fault that she had lost Amadeus and her husband, and while Fira was not about to give up Amadeus – she understood that Calliope was just a part of his life and she wanted to be cordial. It was Ama's life, after all, and his choice was important above all else.

So if he wanted Calliope in their lives, she would stay.

"So, what do you say? Think you can take a short break?"

 

[Nav]

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow morning?" That spelled another long night for Amadeus. Horses wouldn't ready themselves, after all, and having all the soldiers swamping the stables to tack and ready their own horses just wouldn't do. Even though he wouldn't be riding with the cavalry, he had been employed to help them prepare for their send-off. After all, good barn help was hard to come across, as too many men spent more time bumbling around the stalls than actually accomplishing much of anything at all. Once they mobilized, the cavalry and its horses were mostly out of his hair and no longer his problem… but there was still only a very short night until that time.

Leaning against one of the stalls, Amadeus folded his arms across his chest and relaxed a few feet from Fira. "Between the state of the men and the horses, I find it unlikely they'll make it to where they need to go before the first real cold snap. As a group, they have just learned to ride together. I can't imagine their journey will be awkward and slow, at least at first, until they get the rhythm down. We have to remember that these soldiers have trained religiously, but they have never really gone anywhere." The Duke had trained his men well, but never against foes. They had honed their skills against dummies, drills, and spats with wooden swords. As fine as that was, it was no true replacement for being seared in combat.

There wasn't much else to say, at least in regards to her cavalry. The ground troops were a whole other matter entirely, but Amadeus wouldn't be able to help her much with them. The offer for dinner, however, was a slight surprise. Truthfully, it couldn't have come at a worse time, either. "Dinner?" he mused, shaking his head a little in bemusement, "Fira, you want to mobilize your troops tomorrow and I'm wondering if I'll have time to catch a quick nap between now and morning. I could work all night and still wouldn't be able to accomplish everything that needs to get done before tomorrow morning."

He pushed his elbow off the stall door and dusted his hands off on the front of his jacket, "You're welcome to join me here, if you want. There is a fire burning in the saddlery that is keeping the room quite warm, but if you want to keep to your timeline, I fear I must stay here and work through the night."

He offered her a sympathetic half-smile, knowing that was probably not the answer she wanted to hear, but they had reached a point where he had to be her soldier before he was her friend.

 

[Meraki]

It was worth a shot.

She never really anticipated a yes, but she just missed him. Not even the kind of missing where she wanted to do thing with him – she just wanted to be near him. Being Queen, she found out, was really just a whole lot of being surrounded by everyone and feeling lonely at the same time. Her guard was always up and she felt herself falling back into familiar patterns born from the life she led in the palace prior to all of this mess. Her word was more powerful, sure, but she wondered if that was what made her father so miserable after the passing of her mother and brothers.

But she was used to being alone back then. Amadeus changed all that.

"I figured as much," Fira hummed to herself. His offer of staying with him was a welcome one and she let the touch of a smile find her lips. "Well, it seems you leave me no choice then," she joked, "Now you will have to deal with me and my cuisine because I am not letting you starve yourself. Even if you eat while you work."

"Just a moment," she smiled.

She did not really give him time to respond to her words, instead she turned and made her way out of the barn and towards the main house. "You are dismissed for the evening," she told her guard, but before they could respond she was off sneaking through the kitchens where they were beginning to muse over dinner. "Your Majesty!" Greta, the cook, exclaimed, "What on earth are you doing here? I mean – what…what can we do for you?"

"It seems I will not have a guest for dinner, but would you mind helping me put together a basket?"

"A picnic? In this weather?"

"Please, Greta."

"Yes, Your Majesty," she shook her head with a laugh before grabbing a woven basket and helping Fira fill it with breads, jams, meats, fruits and other assorted treats for them. It was modest compared to the feasts Fria had been served upon arrival, but it was more than plenty for the two of them. Hopefully, it would do them both some good to have a bit of food, and Fira looked forward to having the opportunity to just breathe and be away from guards and people. All she heard day in and day out were questions, over and over again, and while she had found her stride pretty early on and a bit of confidence in those decisions – she was still exhausted. Mentally, she just needed a break.

Once everything was packed up, Fira slipped back out through the kitchens and made the walk back to the stables. The temperature was dropping, so drastically in fact she didn't doubt the real winter weather would be coming soon. Much sooner, perhaps, than most believed. She could see her breath outside as she walked, the wind nipping at her nose, turning the skin a light tinge of pink. The barn door was a reprieve and when she opened it, she was glad to be rid of the wind. The temperature wasn't any better, but the wind was the real cutting edge.

She made her way back towards the saddlery. "I come bearing food," she smiled, "and hopefully fairly decent company."

 

[Nav]

Amadeus didn't bother to argue with her, because what was the point? She was a Queen and he hadn't a drop of royal blood in him, so arguing over anything was moot. With one sentence, she could shut him up for good if she wanted, so he had given up on arguing. He was quite comfortable in his obedient servitude, so he wondered if there was really something to say about the blood from which one came. With Fira gone, Amadeus hummed and saw himself back to work. Most of the chores were done for the evening, at least. He had only the last row of stalls to throw hay into before he moved into the saddlery. The saddlery was a handsome gallery that smelled warmly of smoke and oiled leather.

The hearth burned warm and helped keep moisture in the leather. On racks, saddles were hung one on top of another up to the ceiling, where off to one wall hung bridles. In brass plates, the names of each horse had been emblazoned—though most of the bridles were mostly the same. It was a needless splurge of wealth, but the more time Amadeus spent around the Duke's stable, the more he realized how much the man had liked to spend while alive. He had all the nicest things, even where it wouldn't have mattered. He didn't sit, though he worked languidly around the room. The heat seeped deep through his clothes and saturated the marrow of his bones, easing the shivers that had crept through him in the last hour or so. He worked to massage the leather of the saddles and bridles, ensuring they were all in good order for when they began to tack just before sunrise.

He worked aimlessly, his mind drifting. After a while, he had forgotten about the hunger in his belly and the cold in his bones and just existed in a state of 'being.' He was suspended between the smell of oil and the way the brass bit at his fingers as he slipped the clips into place. He had nearly forgotten that Fira was returning until he heard the saddlery door creak open and Fira's voice quickly follow.

"Come on in," he welcomed her, throwing a bridle up on its hook, "It's plenty warm in here." And it was. It was nearly as warm as the estate house, though he found it much more cozy and pleasant. He wouldn't mind living in a place that smelled like the saddlery did. "There is a chair over there, and a small table. Help yourself," he waved her over to the small sitting area. Amadeus had set it up a few days ago to give him a place to sit and warm-up during long days at the stable in the bitter cold.

"It's nice in here, isn't it? I like being in here."

 

[Meraki]

"It's wonderful in here," Fira hummed contently, the warmth settling on her chilled skin. While she was still sensitive to the cold, she had come a long way since first leaving the castle. Sometimes she thought back on it and her memories of living in the castle seemed so distant it felt like a different life some days. Now her hands had seen labor, her body endured pain and suffering and her mind had survived assassination attempts and the loss of everything she held dear. No, she was not the same Fira Amadeus had met so long ago now. Or maybe she was, she just didn't know back then what she was capable of.

It was all so strange to look back on.

She moved towards the seat he offered her and she set the basket down on the table, her hands quick with pulling out what she'd managed to acquire for supper. It wasn't anything extravagant, but nothing sounded better to Fira than a little shared supper in the saddlery with Amadeus. It felt like all the time in the world had passed since they were last together, but they had their jobs. Preparing for this journey was difficult on everyone, but the sooner they could move forward, the sooner everything would set into motion.

And every single night before she went to sleep, Fira reminded herself of all that Peter had done and was continuing to do. Every single night, Fira went to bed remembering exactly why they were doing this, and it made her stronger. She wasn't sure what would happen down the road, but she knew now that no one in the world could prepare her for what was waiting for her back in Rhielith. So she prepared herself and she was getting stronger, more sure of herself.

"It's not much," she spoke of the food, "but I figured it's been quite some time since either of us has had time to sit down and actually eat something."

She grabbed a piece of bread and settled in the chair, picking off a small bite before settling it down on the table. The warmth of the fire washed over her and she tugged off her cloak, pulling down the hood to let her fiery locks fall and frame her face. "I like it out here better than in the estate," she admitted with a bit of a laugh, "it just feels warmer in here. The estate hasn't exactly been the pinnacle of joy recently. With good reason, of course, but I am glad to steal a moment or two away with you here."

"How are you? Has your injury healed?"

 

[Nav]

Amadeus' hands worked leather like they had known each other for years. The leather seemed to practically melt in his expert touch, buckling and pinching in any way he asked it to as he fastened and checked bridles. He had made a small 'to do' pile for himself and as he went through them, returned them to their rightful hooks. Most armies would have polished their horses' tack before departing, but with such limited resources and time, the leather kept its crackled exterior and the brass remained dull. Still, all the bits and pieces were in good working order and that was more important than appearances. After all, that was what Fira always seemed to admire most in Amadeus… not how he looked, because he often presented himself slight grimy and worn, but he was always advantageous.

As Fira unpacked the dinner she had brought, Amadeus continued to work. He was humming a simple, low tune to himself and his eyes and face were relaxed as he worked. It wasn't until she called back his attention did Amadeus returned his attention to her and let the bridle he had been working on settle into his lap for just a moment. "I'm sure it's fine," he assured her, "It's better than anything I ever had back at Inverness, I'm sure." His comment stirred some memories in his chest and a part of him had wished he had never brought up his home to begin with. He missed it, desperately. He missed the simplicity of his life and his work back in Inverness. Though the gravity of what he was doing was not lost on him, nor would he wish himself anywhere else, there was a small part of him that desperately longed to go back to that.

To go back to simplicity, even facing hunger.

"You're right about that though," he agreed, eager for a topic change, "It has been a while." With the food all laid out as an offering, Amadeus reached over and slid a chunk of cheese across a hunk of bread and bit into it. The food rolled in his stomach violently for just a moment before settling in comfortably to his gut.

"Yes, it's nice out here, isn't it? I think it's so nice because the horses don't know or care about anything on going. All they concern themselves with is their nightly grain, truthfully. It's a nice change of pace." The horses were his brethren, and he fed on their energies, it felt like. When they were nervous, so was he, but they were calm in the stables and he, too, was relaxed.

"My injury is alright, I suppose. It hasn't healed particularly well, but there has been a lot of work to be done." And what Amadeus really meant was that he hadn't given it time to be properly rested, but that was their circumstance. An ugly scar was an ugly scar, but the work never stopped. "Aside from the palace, have you been well?"

 

[Meraki]

"I just like the warmth and the quiet," Fira admitted, "I fear I haven't had a moment of silence in quite some time. Not that I have any place to complain, but it is nice for the moment of reprieve."

She took a bite of the bread again, this time with a bit of cheese, and she welcomed the way it settled in her stomach. It had been so long since she had sat down for a meal that it felt almost unnatural to not be running about with an apple. That was her life these days, running from meeting to meeting with an apple in hand even though the General and others explained that it was the Queen who began the proceedings. Still, she did not want to be late and threw herself into the work completely. It often felt like she had no time for herself, except in her dreams. In her dreams, she was always Fira. Just Fira. Amadeus would be there too, sometimes, always riding up on horseback because it just seemed natural to dream.

"I suppose it was a silly question," Fira laughed, "I never expected you to give it time. Not that there's been much room or time for anything but preparation."

When the question was turned on her, Fira simply shrugged and took another bite of her food. "I have been well. Sleep has been difficult, but I think that's to be expected after everything. Otherwise, I've gotten quite a bit of my stamina back, but the cold has made breathing a bit more of a chore. It has cleared up considerably, though."

She tried to get herself outside more, to ride a bit and train again. She was doing considerably well, but still lost her breath on some occasions. It was a small price to pay, however, for the gift of still being alive. Some nights she still dreamed about the girl and the bathtub, but every time she was supposed to come up for air, Fira would wake up in a cold sweat. It was not easy to process, but it proved to her the reality that not everyone in this world hated or loved her, some were just doing what was best for their families. It was her job to ensure that she was the best possible Queen for those people.

For all people.

She shook her head, "How's Bo doing? Have his injuries healed well?"

 

[Nav]

"Though you're right that I wouldn't have given it time with the opportunity, I would like to clarify that there hasn't been an opportunity."

Like Fira, Amadeus had been kept plenty busy. Though he had declined the offer from the Admiral to join the Cavalry, the man had kept him running around to help prepare for their send off. Once the cavalry was gone the next morning, Amadeus wasn't entirely sure what he'd be doing. Fira had guards, after all, and admirals to consult with, so his presence felt painfully asinine. Fira had requested him though; she had even suggested his presence was needed, though he was struggling to understand why… and what his place would be.

Popping the last bit of bread and cheese into his mouth, Amadeus tossed the bridle he had been working on back into the pile to be put away later. Immediately, he turned back to their little spread and began to piece apart another hunk of cheese. The food did feel good and invigorating, he immediately agreed. "Well good, glad to hear you're on the path to recovery," he commented, smiling inwardly when she explained that she had continued to be on the up and up. The second hunk of cheese didn't last long, as his ravenous appetite suddenly got the better of him.

"Bo? Bo is well. I've been doing quite a bit of training on him lately, so he's looking quite remarkable. More muscular and glossy than I had ever seen him. I suppose it helps that the quality of the feed here is much better than anything he's had before. In fact, he's look quite nice… almost like a proper horse." Bo was not exactly easy on the eyes, but since coming to the Estate, he had put on weight and his grey coat gleamed with a healthy shine. He was still awkward in parts, but the filling out of his muscle helped him look much more handsome they he ever had before.

"It's been quite nice actually," he continued, "I've been riding lots of horses these last few days. I've been finding my time here almost enjoyable, if I didn't understand what was coming." He would have liked what he was doing very much if the circumstances had been different. "There are some finely bred horses here that I wouldn't mind having for myself, honestly."

He shrugged a little and sated himself on some crackers and sliced fruit, humming quietly inward to himself. "I'm sorry I'm not for more interesting conversation. I'm not sure there is much going on here that is worth talking about."

 

[Meraki]

"That's great to hear! I was worried about him after we arrived," Fira admitted, remembering the way they'd all arrived at the estate a little worse for wear. Things were still difficult but a change of clothes and a bit of food seemed to change their tune quite a bit. It was all so exhausting and demanding, but at least they weren't starving somewhere, or falling ill. No, Fira had quite enough of that for a lifetime. "But I'm glad you've gotten some riding in. There really are some lovely horses here, though I've only really seen them from afar. I'm afraid going out for rides isn't in my itinerary most days."

She continued to eat, enjoying the quiet stillness of the saddlery and the crackle of the fire. It was the most relaxed she felt since…well, she didn't know when. Every moment since fleeing the castle was just crisis after crisis and Fira was sure the stress couldn't be good for her health. But she soldiered on, because what she asked of the people, of the soldiers, and even Amadeus – was so much more labor intensive than hers was. Sure, she was exhausted down to her bones, but at the end of the night there was always a bed waiting for her, or servants to bring her whatever she needed.

Not that she knew what she needed, most days.

"There's no need to apologize," she said, glancing up at him with a hint of surprise in her eyes. She wasn't sure why he was apologizing, considering the fact that this was all she wanted. Just a few quiet moments with him, even if they didn't talk about much. "I needed this. Just a moment, you know? Otherwise my mind gets the better of me and then I'm rather useless."

"And I just enjoy being around you," she admitted, "I could watch you work for hours, you know."

 

[Nav]

He chuckled warmly, but not at her because he found it funny. "Yes, well, the warhorses need exercise to keep them in good condition, and what better job for me?" His days weren't filled with long, arduous meetings. Quite the opposite, actually. He spent most of his time on the estate in solitary confinement, only really talking to anyone when one of the barn hands had a question or were the commander or admiral had an inquiry about the state of their affairs. He liked it that way. Amadeus could be sociable and outgoing, but he preferred the quiet, talk-less nature of the horse over that of man.

When he had finished his small portion of fruit, feeling full, he sat back and pulled another bridle into his lap to work it. No point in letting his hands go idle just because Fira was taking a break nearby. The company was nice, but it was no excuse to not work… especially when the cavalry would begin tacking and mounting for departure. Now that was bound to be a chaotic few hours and, truthfully, he wanted nothing to do with it. Alas, he didn't have a choice and he didn't complain. It just wasn't in his nature… not when he had more food in his belly than he had ever had before.

"I just thought," he sort of shrugged. He figured she would have wanted some kind of entertainment to ease her mind off the affairs around her kingdom and he didn't feel disassembling bridles pieces to check for their vitality was anything that qualified as 'entertainment.' "Well, if this is what you need, this is what I can offer then." Clearing his throat, Amadeus tossed the bridle on to the pile… it was the same routine, over and over. Disassemble, check for quality, reassemble, and toss aside for later.

"I'm not sure it's worth watching," he laughed, "It's just bridle checking. Nothing particularly difficult or requiring of any true skill, for that matter. Anyone can do it; I'm just the slug who got stuck with the job. It's nice, though. I like being more or less left alone in the stables."