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Some parts of Paul’s training seem very basic. He’s told not to turn his back on open doors, even if he’s in a location that should be safe. He’s told not to trust strangers, and to dissect even the words of trusted allies. He’s told to always keep a blade near at hand, but to never make its presence obvious.
All of these are things that he doesn’t need to be told. These are things that he assumes that most people would know through sheer instinct; don’t be careless, keep your guard up, be careful when you wield weapons… each time one of his mentors repeat these things to him, Paul is one step closer to rolling his eyes in return (and surely getting his ear properly chewed off about “insolence” and “taking vigilance seriously”).
So – if this is all so very obvious, if these are things that no one needs to remind him of, then why does he keep sitting with his back to open doors?
Paul isn’t even sure when this new habit of his started. It’s not like he has a death wish, nor that he actively wants to antagonize the men that are tasked with teaching him survival.
If he wanted to lie to himself, he could insist that he does it for the challenge; that this forces him to pay attention to his surroundings, and that it has taught him how to recognize the footsteps of many of Castle Caladan’s inhabitants.
If he wanted to pursue a more truthful explanation, the fact is that he doesn’t know when he started doing this – but he certainly remembers when he became aware of his new habit.
Sat in the open doorway of his room, reading, he could hear Gurney approach from way down the corridor. The War Master didn’t attempt to hide his approach, because for all he knew, he was approaching a closed door, and his steps would have been muffled through the thick wood.
Then, there was the final beats; Gurney slowing down, sighing, but sounding exasperated – maybe even amused – rather than annoyed. “Sire, what have I told you about keeping your back to open doors?”
“That it adds some excitement to an otherwise boring existence?”
The comment had been enough to coax a laugh from Gurney – rough and heady – the kind of laughter Paul has found himself chasing recently; saying all kinds of unhinged things just on the off-chance that he’ll be rewarded like this.
“If that’s what you take from my lessons, I should report myself to the duke and inform him of my shortcomings.”
“No need”, Paul had offered, throwing a look over his shoulder, finally meeting Gurney’s gaze and offering him a smile. “I could hear your footsteps. Had I not recognized them, I wouldn’t have remained here.”
It’s unclear if Gurney believes him.
The second time Gurney walks in on him sitting in an open doorway, Paul has gone out of his way to pick the spot. This time he’s not even sat in the doorway of his own room; he has simply wandered through the castle until he came across a nice spot where the sunlight shines warm through the large windows, and folded himself up there, knees pressed to his chest, chin resting on them, casually browsing through a book that he’s barely paying attention to.
Gurney isn’t heading for this room in particular. He’s hurrying through the corridor, Paul listening to his hastened steps, until they come to a sudden halt.
“Paul…”
And this Paul remembers vividly, because Gurney rarely addresses him by name, and on the rare occasion that it does happen, the moment stays with him.
“It’s only the two of us here”, Paul sing-songs. “I could tell it was you from a mile away.”
If Gurney hadn’t been in such a hurry, Paul probably would have gotten a proper lecture. Now, he just gets a brief moment of Gurney shaking his head, letting out a sigh, before he continues down the corridor, called by whatever duty had him hurrying in the first place.
The third time Gurney finds him sitting in an open doorway, it’s clear that the old soldier has gone out of his way to look for him, in very much the same way as Paul has gone out of his way to pick this sitting location in the first place.
It’s a pleasant summer day, and Paul has opened the doors to a balcony overlooking the grasslands. The wind is warm and the gusts are strong, and he sits with his legs crossed, looking out over the grass that sways like rolling ocean waves.
He can barely hear Gurney’s approach over the winds, because this time the old soldier is clearly making an attempt to sneak up on Paul. Still, the stone floors of Caladan aren’t made to mute noise, and when Paul turns to look down the corridor, he finds Gurney a couple of steps away, practically standing on the tip of his toes.
“Trying to prove a point, old man?”
Gurney’s lips curve with a wry smile – and in this light, the first thing that occurs to Paul is how invitingly soft his lips seem, even when framed by such sharp stubble.
“I would say it seems we’re both trying to prove something.”
Paul just offers him a grin in reply, before turning back to the open doors, closing his eyes to the gentle heat of the sun.
“You could sit with me. The weather is wonderful.”
Even with his eyes closed, he can hear Gurney chuckle. When he speaks, he sounds amused, sure; but there’s also a raw note to his voice now – something much harder to define. “I’m not sure it would set a good precedent, sire.”
It’s unclear whether Gurney’s comment is in regards to Paul’s new streak of careless doorway behaviour, or if he’s addressing something completely different.
From this moment on, they share countless of moments in open doorways. Paul goes through great effort of finding new creative places to take his reading, and Gurney goes out of his way to find him. If Paul were to be honest with himself, he could admit that at least half of his reading places are uncomfortable, and that few of the floors of Castle Caladan make for good seating; he could admit that this only became a habit once it involved Gurney – that he’s pursuing the thrill of having Gurney’s full focus.
For as long as they keep this up, he’ll be at the centre of Gurney’s attention, and well; he would also be so bold as to say that this does serve as some form of training. Because while Gurney has never fully gotten the jump on him, he has certainly ensured that Paul has to stay vigilant.
Half the time, he’ll look up from his book and flinch, finding the old soldier only a few steps away, close enough to touch.
Sometimes, Paul wonders what would happen if Gurney actually managed to reach him undetected. At this point, he cannot fathom what the next step of this bizarre lesson would be.
Sometimes, his mind wanders, envisioning what comes next. On more than one occasion, he has felt his face run hot as he does so; quickly learning not to entertain these thoughts when in the company of others, fearing that he’ll end up blushing a deep crimson that will have them inquire about his health.
For now, though, he will allow himself this game.
He will wander through the castle, with no other goal in mind than to lead Gurney on a proper chase in order to find him.
He will bask in having Gurney’s undivided attention, and hope that no one asks why this is so important to him – why challenging Gurney to such an inane game has been his top priority for weeks, if not months, now.
And if one day Gurney was to catch him, well – Paul would be lying if he said that he isn’t awaiting that moment with bated breath.