25th March 1103

Lochan pushed the heavy door open gently and they silently filed in. Eallair sat motionless, his head slumped on arms which were draped heavily on the sturdy oak desk. His shoulders sagged as though the weight of his responsibilities had become too much to bear. His long hair dangled over his face, matted and snarled. Faint traces of rusty red stained the links of his mail and Garrick well knew also the creases of his hands.

Garrick knew because his hands had once been stained by the blood of a friend, of a sister, of his mirrored other half. For days now Eallair would find the dried remnants of Sigurd’s death, caked on the tip of his boot, crammed beneath a fingernail, tarnishing a link or belt buckle. Garrick remembered how it had run into his very fingerprints as though he had dipped his finger in her blood and pressed it to the page to sign the death warrant. He felt a pang of sympathy for Eallair, and a shudder of raw sorrow for his own loss. And Sigurd, he had been a good man who didn’t deserve the hand fate had dealt him. A brave man in the end and Eallair should not forget the sacrifice he had made. Garrick just hoped it would not break him.

“Eallair…” Lochan murmured.

Eallair did not move.

“Eallair, are you asleep? Wake up please.”

Eallair’s head jerked up as though a ghostly hand had tweaked the puppet string. Garrick saw that if he had slept it could not have been for long. His face was ghastly white, dark rings rippling away from bloodshot eyes. He rose woodenly from the chair, sliding it back into place with a neat thud of oak against oak as it hit the table.

“Any news,” his voice was hoarse from sleep and Garrick assumed, sobbing.

Poor lad.

“We’ve got patrols scouring this side of the island but none has turned up anything so far. The watch on the sea say there’s no sign of any ships out there. She seems to have appeared out of thin air, we can’t find any trace of how she got here,” Lochan’s voice was dry and calm.

“We’re going back out again,” Garrick added, “expanding the patrols further into the forest.”

“Good, I’ll come with you,” Eallair’s voice took on a recognisable tone.

Probably do the lad some good to get out. Nothing worse than staying cooped up inside and thinking. Garrick knew. He had been locked in his room for weeks after she died, with nothing to do but think, over and over how things would have been different if he had only just…

“No,” Lochan replied bristling, “It’s simply not safe out there for you Eallair. What if you get hurt?”

Garrick snorted in irritation. There was nothing he hated more than Lochan babying Eallair. The lad was a King and sooner or later he was going to have to live up to that reality, but his overbearing cousin made it too easy for him to take the safe route out.

“But Lochan,” Eallair wheedled, “I think I could be a great deal of help. I’m doing nothing sitting here. I need to help.”

Correction, there was one thing Garrick hated more and that was Eallair playing the sniveling child to his cousin. Sometimes Garrick couldn’t help but wish he would grow a pair. The Kingdom would be better for it. Either that or Lochan simply take the reigns and be done with it. This charade had gone on long enough. It was painful to watch a King pandering to his subjects.

“No!” Lochan almost shouted, “I simply won’t have it. The last thing I need is to be worrying about you getting yourself killed out there. I have enough to concern myself with all that’s going on.”

He jabbed a finger towards the King, “I won’t allow it.”

Garrick thought he had gone perhaps a teensy bit too far. He glanced at Eallair whose face had gone from pale to an ominous red.

“Ah Lochan…” Garrick began but was interrupted by Eallair suddenly snapping to life.

“You won’t allow it?! You?! Who are you to allow me anything?!”

Lochan’s mouth dropped open in surprise as he backed away from Eallair who was stabbing the air in front of him with an accusatory finger.

Eallair’s voice suddenly went cold, his features pulled into a taut grimace, “you forget yourself cousin. Remember who is King here. Now go and get my sword. I’m coming with you and I expect a full report on the status of all the patrols on the way.”

Garrick felt like cheering. He had to clap his hands against his thighs to stop them from applauding on their own.

The lad had balls after all.

Lochan looked ill, “As you wish Your Majesty.”

Murchadh, Tadhgar, The Royal Family