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“Do you think he will actually do the right thing this time?” Phillip asked, looking over at Stark and Lady Virginia as they walked the courtyard. “Some things about him seem the same as they were before, but in other ways, I believe he has altered.”
Hawkeye focused on Stark for a moment and then shook his head. “I do not know or care what happens to Stark.”
Phillip frowned. “Then why did you rescue him? If you did not care, then why would you follow the queen's orders—you know you do not have to follow any of them since you could have that throne in an instant—and save him?”
Hawkeye stopped walking, letting out a breath. “My brother ordered Stark's capture. I do not know why he did that or why he chose to marry. I am still trying to understand what he did and why.”
“There is nothing to understand. Your brother was insane. His reasons do not have sense or meaning to them. They just... are.”
Hawkeye shook his head. “I do not believe that. My brother was... corrupted. He might have been ruthless, evil, even, but he was not insane. He had some purpose to what he was doing, and I do not know what it was. Nor do I know who sent the queen here to manipulate and kill the king. Someone is pulling puppet strings from the shadows, and I need to find a way to draw them out.”
“Is that why you have not killed her or claimed the throne? You think you can lure an unknown—possibly imagined—enemy out of the shadows?”
“An archer is nothing without something to shoot.”
Phillip sighed. “I wish you would find better targets.”
“Are you jealous of Stark and Lady Virginia?”
“No. Though he is unworthy of her and I value her friendship, she and I are only friends. I, like you, gave up the idea of romantic entanglement some time ago.” Phillip looked into the distance, and Hawkeye touched his arm, wondering if he was thinking of some youthful affection long since crushed or something else.
“At least you have Lola. And you will soon be a grandfather.”
“I hate you,” Phillip muttered, shaking his head. “I do not know why I was ever loyal to you.”
Hawkeye smiled. They both knew why, but it was not something they cared to speak of, not then and not now. It was better left in the past.
“Lord Hawkeye,” the queen said, and Phillip jumped. Hawkeye almost laughed, but they both should have heard her coming. Those skirts of hers were not quiet, though he had noticed that she had altered them some since he had last interacted with her—that could explain the lack of noise. “I wish to ask a favor of you.”
He almost laughed. “You do, do you? I think we are not the sort for favors.”
She smiled. “I suppose not. However, it would seem that even making this an order is insufficient, so I must ask you.”
“For what?”
“I wish to spar,” she said, and Phillip choked on a cough. Hawkeye eyed her suspiciously. “And since none of the guards are willing to fight me, I would like to fight you.”
He folded his arms over his chest, assessing her. What was her purpose in this? Did she want to try and kill him again? Or was he supposed to kill her? Their last fight had almost killed both of them.
“Hawkeye—”
“If you want, but I will not go easy on you.”
She laughed. “If I wanted easy, I would have chosen someone else.”