DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of 100% FICTION and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between 2 consenting teenage boys. This story is based 100% off of my IMAGINATION and does NOT reflect the views of the celebrities mentioned. If this type of content offends you or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please don't.
Enjoy.
What Happened to the Green Fairies? By Danimpa
Chapter 30
Earldom of Cornwall, England May, 1398
Brendon made his way back to the horse with a small limp from his wounded leg, picking up my sword and his dagger on the way before he managed to push himself back into the saddle behind me and get the horse moving again while I slumped back against his chest once more.
We rode through the night, broke through the forest and finally reached the open fields of Cornwall without encountering more opponents.
Perhaps, for once, Nemesis had decided to give us a break.
We'd gotten through on the only shot that we'd had, not meeting anyone. Because with both Brendon and I wounded we wouldn't have stood a chance.
It was morning and nearly sunny when we thundered into the courtyard and were stopped by a guard.
"Halt!" he yelled.
Brendon obeyed, pulling both our horse and Eleanor's to a stop.
"Who's there?" the guard asked then, walking closer as he let his hand fall to the hilt of his sword.
"Lord George and Lady Eleanor," Brendon quickly answered, letting himself slide out of the saddle before helping me down, scooping me straight up in his arms. "And they, or Lord George at any rate, needs urgent medical attention."
"No, stop," I quickly croaked out as the guard started to go for our doctor. "It's more urgent that I speak with Johannes. Will you fetch him? Immediately."
"Of course, milord," the guard answered, changing his directions to head for the barracks instead.
I could practically feel Brendon's disapproving glace in the back of my neck, but had to ignore it.
"Ryan, you need help. Now," he stated, holding me a bit closer to his chest.
"My father is in France," I muttered. "In a few hours we'll probably be under a full-out attack. I'm the highest authority at the moment, Bren." I sucked in a breath. "Everybody is my responsibility."
He sighed, saying nothing for a moment. "Who's Johannes?" he then asked. It really was amazing how little he knew about the staff after having lived here for the better part of a year.
"He's Matt's second in command," I answered. "Until my brother returns he controls the troops. I need to set tactics with him and brief him on the situation."
"Oh."
I waited for a moment before speaking again. "Please put me down," I muttered.
"What? Ryan, you couldn't even sit on your own!" he replied incredulously.
"I cannot be taken seriously like this," I replied back, a bit sharper than intended, but he gently put me down. I moved back slightly so my back ended up flush against his chest and I could still, more inconspicuously, place some of my weight on him.
His hands settled briefly on my shoulders, steadying me until my balance was regained.
And then Johannes was approaching.
I easily recognized his large, bushy beard and thick, reddish brown hair as well as his impressive bulk.
This one had always looked brutal, but he was also the man who'd taught me my archery skills, someone I felt safe with.
"Milady," he quickly greeted Eleanor with a nod of his head before turning a bit. "Milord," he addressed me, bowing quickly. "What's the situation?"
I gulped slightly. "Things went badly in Salisbury," I started, taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid we have a feud on our hands."
He showed no signs of shock. Johannes never did. He simply nodded in acceptance as his mind habitually started working through his possibilities.
"How many soldiers do we have here?"
"Fifty men," he answered. "The others either went with you to Salisbury or with His Grace to France."
I nodded lightly, defying the pain from the back of my head as I worked through the tactical knowledge I'd picked up over the years, trying to get my more linguistic mind to work with strategies again. "Keep thirty here to strengthen our defenses and be ready for the attack," I ordered. "Send the other twenty down to the village, get the gates closed and strengthen the city walls in every way that it can be done." I closed my eyes, suddenly remembering a detail. "All the archers are in France with Father, are they not?"
"Yes, sadly they are," came the answer.
I sighed, reaching up my left hand to rub slightly at my forehead. "We'll have to do without at the moment then," I stated. "Make the men you send to the village get the villagers ready for the attack. Send the peasants into the village for protection, make them bring what food they can; hopefully they won't run out of supplies." I paused, taking another breath. "Call in the reserves and let five of our men stay in the village to lead its defense. Then call the rest of them back here."
He nodded. "How long do I have?"
I shrugged. "Four hours, tops."
He nodded again. "I'll do my best, but against Salisbury we won't stand with the numbers we have."
I knew that, but I would have to deal with it afterwards. "Some more of our men, Master Good included, are still on their way back here. Get them inside when you can and integrate them in the defense."
"Yes, milord," he said, quickly saluting me before he turned around and half-ran back towards the barracks.
"Medical attention," Brendon growled into my ear before picking me up again, one arm under my upper body, carefully making sure not to further damage my right shoulder, and the other arm beneath my knees.
"Not yet," I mumbled when we'd entered the castle.
He sighed. "Now what?"
"I need you to take me to Father's study."
"Ryan..." he started, sighing again. "You need your bloody rest."
"I need to make sure we get reinforcements," I countered. "Just take me there."
"Ryan..."
"Just do it!" I ordered, immediately regretting the harsh tone. "Sorry, but it doesn't matter if I get well only to wake up with a sword in my stomach."
"Okay, okay, I understand," he muttered, but changed to go in the right direction anyway.
I let go of the breath I'd barely been aware of holding. "Thank you," I whispered, nuzzling my face into his chest to rest for the duration of the five-minute walk.
A few moments later we entered the study and Brendon sat me carefully down in my father's chair.
I reached out and found parchment, ink and a quill. I dipped the quill into the ink and quickly wrote the date in a neat cursive in the corner before I started writing the actual letter.
"Who are you writing?" Brendon asked.
"My grandfather," I answered, not even looking up from my work.
"What good will that do?" he questioned further.
"Reinforcement is the whole point of this," I answered. "My grandfather, Ryan the fourth of Ross, has a rather good force behind him. And I'm his sole heir as well. My life is as valuable to him as it is to my father."
"So you just expect him to just send his men down to save you from a bad situation you placed yourself in?" he asked, eyebrow rising. I could practically hear that in his voice.
I took no offense in that. Brendon just quite often didn't think before he spoke. "Yes," I simply answered. Then I finished the letter, made Brendon light a candle over which I heated the wax before letting it drip down to close the rolled up piece of parchment and pressing my signet into the melted wax.
"If you make sure this reaches a messenger who can take it to Ross, I'll take the medical treatment," I finally stated, handing him the letter.
He smiled slightly before lifting me back off the chair.
Matt had returned a mere two hours after we did, eight men still with him, and I put my trust in his and Johannes' abilities to defend the castle as I stayed in bed, closely watched by my lover as I received the hourly reports.
On the evening of our second day back in Cornwall, my door burst open and my sister entered.
I barely recognized her.
Her usually so beautiful black hair was matted and nearly filthy, deep bags had formed under her suddenly dead blue eyes, her skin was ashen and she was wearing the same dress as she had on our harsh journey home, dirty and torn. "Can I speak to His Grace?" she asked Brendon, her voice raspy. "Alone," she quickly added.
Brendon shot me a questioning look and I simply nodded. He got up and left my bedchamber, the door falling softly closed behind him.
"Milord," she greeted, steel in her voice.
"Ella, what...?" I started, but she cut me off with a simple hand gesture.
"You have no right to call me that. I'm not your sister anymore," she stated harshly.
I raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a crushing weight on my shoulders.
"You've ruined my life," she stated. "Completely. Even if I wasn't carrying his child, I could never marry another man."
My jaw dropped and my head spun. "What?"
"I'm with child," she elaborated icily. "And you and Matt are responsible for the death of its father. Before we were even married! Can you comprehend the shame of that?"
"Eleanor..." I whispered, my voice suddenly strangled. "Why didn't you wait?"
"I loved him!" she shrieked. "Why do you think I was asking you for advice when we went there? We've been living as man and wife since I first arrived in Salisbury!"
Shock surged through me, sending a sudden rush of adrenaline into my veins where it pulsed around like a restless fire.
"My life is over," she finally finished, plopping down in a chair next to my bed, suddenly abandoned by her former strength, it seemed.
"No it's not," I muttered. "I mean, you can't marry, no, but... we could find you a good cloister? Perhaps Father would even let you stay. I know I'd let you stay if I were in charge." I gulped slightly. "And you know that your child will be well taken care of, whatever you choose."
"Don't you understand that I don't want either of those things?" she asked softly, suddenly sniffing. "I don't want to live in a world where Philip is dead."
I couldn't answer, because as much as I didn't want to understand, I did.
She was walking the path I had a few months earlier, but he couldn't come back and save her like Brendon had for me. "You've killed all there was in the world for me, milord," she whispered. "I loathe and denounce you."
I was too far gone into concern and misery to take notice of the object of mine she'd brought with her.
Half an hour later a servant in hysterics ran into my chambers, even neglecting to knock.
I couldn't make out a word she was saying and in the end Brendon scooped me up and we followed her through the castle and into my sister's quarters.
The sight that met me was one I'd never forget.
My sword was strapped onto Eleanor's bed, and she'd apparently thrown herself down onto it, her body hovering a bit over the mattress, the tip of the sword poking out of her back and her own blood drenching her dress and her sheets. Her face was a ghastly, white, fallen thing that rested crookedly on her pillow, eyes hollow and creepily open, dried blood clinging to lips and chin.
I'd killed my sister.