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Laurent, that soft son of a bitch, made a memorial for Aimeric in the garden of Arles. It was placed next to Nicaise's, not out of mistake. There was a whole section for the lost soldiers, who died while fighting for a true king, but those two were a bit separated, with more ornamental stones as their sacred place.
Jord hated to think about that. Hated to think about what kind of man the Regent was, destroying boys and young men with his sick perversion. He hated how he turned the sweetness of Aimeric into a weapon, his unconditional love to betrayal of those who truly cared for him.
He did not fool himself with thoughts that he would have been enough for Aimeric but he would have given him everything he could until the young man found someone who he could be himself with.
But he wasn't given a chance. So he visited the small stone that shaped a sword, as Aimeric was buried as a war hero. He was not a war hero. He was a traitor. He had to swallow that too. That's where he met with Loyse multiple times.
The lady did not return to Fortaine, she was given a place in Laurent's court and after some time she did seem content. Not at the fake grave of his youngest, but at least she pretended she did not suffer every day. Her resentment towards the world she had to live in burned in her, made her want to help to build a new one.
The first few time she didn't even acknowledge him. If Jord saw her there, he looked for another occasion to visit, if Jord arrived earlier, Loyse silently took place next to him and stared at the pretence tomb stone. When Jord was kneeling in front of the marble sculpture he had no thought, just let the pain wash over him. It was pitiful, disgusting even, he knew he had to move on at some point, but he failed to understand the ways of letting go.
Because what was done evoked so many feelings inside him. There was rage towards the Regent, shame for himself, sadness for Aimeric, but there were also anger towards the boy. He was mad at him for not letting any of them help. Not him, how could've he helped? But, maybe Laurent. He had his twisted ways, he could've done it. There would be people still alive, opinions about him not filled with prejudice, after he worked years to earn that respect he got, and Aimeric would still be alive.
The boy could be mad at Akielons, mad at Jord, mad at Laurent, his father, the Regent, the whole world, he could feel left alone and ashamed, but those would fade, those were curable. Death was not.
Loyse was a smart woman. She didn't realised it when Jord first talked to her, but later as they knelt in front of the memorial it probably became clear.
"Were you his lover?" The question was more of a conversation started in a sense that it was obvious. Jord, head bowed, turned to the lady. He felt the need to kneel in front of her, but both of them were already on their knees.
"Yes, my lady." It was must have hurt her deeply that both a sick-man and a lowlife touched her son. Still he had no heart to lie to a grieving mother. The woman nodded.
"You loved him, that's why you spent your free time here?" Her question was almost offensive and Jord forgot to be respectful, he looked up, straight into her eyes. Grey eyes looked like hardened steel. Both colour and emotion.
"I miss him," he said softly. It was true. He felt like he lost control of his whole life in those moments. He didn't find the thing he required in order to be able to start it all over.
"It is foolish of you to mourn a lover for such a long time." Jord didn't understand it. Not the whys, not the hows.
"My lady-"
"You're still fairly young. One of your first disappointment, I guess." Her voice was cold, like they were talking about some imaginary boy. It reminded Jord of Laurent. "It is foolish of you to let yourself go like this." Her gaze made his eyes burn.
"Yes, he played you. Yes, he chose a monster over you. Yes, he hurt you. Yes, he," he voice broke, "killed himself for it. Yes, we failed him. Yes, he made us angry." Her eyes glistened." Yes, we own him. Yes, he owns us. Yes, it destroyed us inside." A single tear trickled down her face. Jord swallowed and looked for his handkerchief. The lady took it with a kind smile.
"You need to understand that there is no more to this story. We can only save his memory, but can't put our lives up to grieving."
"You are also here, my lady," he said without edge in his voice.
"Do you think I mourn my lover?" she asked anger showing in her pretty eyes. "That I'm here for my husband?"
"Certainly not." She took a deep breath.
"I'm mourning a son, soldier." Her voice was soft again. "That is something I do not wish for you, but I hardly cry as much as you do." It wasn't true, her eyes were always filled with tears and Jord hadn't cried since the day of the betrayal, but he understood the meaning behind her words. "I took my revenge and punished those I could. I forgave my son," she said like that was the key to everything. Jord closed his eyes for a moment.
"He never hurt me, as I am."
"That is not true. He broke you heart. Let him, give him that." She reached out and squeezed his arm. "Think about it. Think it over. Forgive him. Remember him. Move on," she said with a sincerity of a mother he never had and still wasn't enough for Aimeric with a father of too many ambitions.
The lady stood up, without grace, but as anyone in their middle ages would have after kneeling for half an hour, gave him a pat on the shoulder and left.
Jord did thought about what she said. He knew she was right. He knew that somewhere deep down he wanted this to end, was sick of this self-punishment, this pathetic show. He wanted to work again, fight again, not necessarily literally, he wanted to be a good soldier again, he wanted to be captain again, he wanted to have friends again, he wanted to love again.
He just needed to learn how to forgive. His mind was carefully cataloguing everything Aimeric committed against them. He couldn't forgive him for the betrayal as a whole, it wasn't his right, it happened against everyone and especially targeted at Laurent. He couldn't forgive him for breaking his heart, he was long over that.
Then he remember he wanted friends, because he lost one of the dearest. An orphan raised by the city, a boy turned man he served with since he could remember, someone who wasn't going to be remembered by anyone just the soldiers he fought with. He thought of a nature built on fight, of a hardly erasable smirk, of a loyalty unbroken. He thought of Orlant.