Work Text:
Héra did not usually leave the care of her horse to others, especially when she had pushed her mare for days and the horse was wet, tired and saddle sore. Today was the exception, her cousin, the last of her immediate kin had been stuck down from his horse by an orc’s arrow. She had seen both of her brothers fall and if her cousin was to leave her as well she could not bear the thought of only having his cold body to bid farewell to. Héra pushes past guards and her friends at court until she stands before the doors of what had once been her father’s bedchamber. She braces herself for the sight of him, pale and spent as the wound festers with orc poison. When she opens the door she is relieved to see her cousin and king sitting up and reading in a bed piled high with furs looking very much alive.
“You’re supposed to be dying.”
“Are you disappointed?” Fréaláf asks, taking in his bedraggled cousin, “You look worse than I do.”
She grimaces, “I received a message rider on the West Road telling me my cousin had been struck by an arrow and was in the throes of death. My poor Aeshere nearly collapsed under me when I arrived at the stables after how hard I pushed her, hoping you would not have gone cold before my arrival.”
“Héra.”
“Do you remember how it was to find Haleth and Háma? Haleth was mostly bleached bones by the time we returned to Edoras and Háma….”
Fréaláf recalls the discovery of his cousin’s body all too well and how both of them had wept at the sight. His heart pangs with guilt, “Héra, I’m so sorry. It was worse when I wrote you. If anything happened to me I wanted you here to look after our people and my family.”
She nods and sits down beside him on the bed, “You aren’t allowed to die. Not until you’re old and withered and gray.”
“Yes I know. I’m sorry Héra, I needed you here and I wasn’t sure you would come if it was not dire…you have not been home in so long.”
She leans in to kiss his forehead, still a little warmer than usual, “All you need to do is ask. I will always come home if you ask. You should have known that.”
“I know, I know.” He puts his good arm around her and leans his head against her shoulder.
“You’re an idiot. Now tell me what happened.”
He shifts sorely to lift up his shirt to show her a jagged wound almost at his armpit, “It didn’t hit anything important. The healer had to cut it out and the wound festered.”
She inspects the site, still stitched with boiled horse hair. It is ugly and still a little red but it does not look fatal by any means.
“It hit the king of Rohan, I think that’s quite important. Why is it black and purple?” Héra asks.
“The poison the orcs dip their arrows in is made from some foul plant that grows in Mordor. I’m told the poison is gone but the color may take years to fade.”
“But it will not harm you?”
He shakes his head, “No, it should not.”
“Were you not wearing armor?”
“We were hunting boar when we were set upon. I did not expect to need it.” He says guiltily.
“Oh, you promise me you won’t die on me and then tell me you engage in that foolishness.”
“I was soundly punished for it, in front of an ambassador from Gondor no less.”
She huffs a laugh, “It is no less than you deserve. What did your poor wife say?”
“Many things, most that should not be repeated in polite company.” He sighs.
Hera kicks off her boots and lays beside him on top of the covers, “We need you. I still need you.”
“And I am here. You are the one who is absent.” He reminds her.
“You know why I have been absent. I see too many ghosts roaming the halls of Meduseld.” She looks up at the ceiling and thinks of how she and Háma had played here as children.
“There is also life. There has to be. Little Haleth walks on her own now and can almost talk.” He tells her.
Héra nods, “I haven’t seen her since she was a newborn.”
“You have missed much. She likes the gifts you send. The seashells are a particular favorite.” Fréaláf says softly.
“I should visit more. I would like to know your family better.”
“You’re always welcome here.”
She shifts uncomfortably, “How do you do it? Do you not see them everywhere?”
“Haleth and Háma? Of course I do, but I was not here to see the things you saw. I think that makes it easier to remain.”
“Do you resent me for leaving?”
“Never.”
She finds his hand and squeezes it, “Thank you.”
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Hmm?”
“May I have your father brought home?” Fréaláf asks.
“Oh….I…I don’t see why not. He should lay beside his kin and his sons.” Héra decides.
“There are some who still say his wraith wanders the Hornburg. Dark things are whispered over his tomb. I do not know what came to pass besides what you have told me, but I should like to have my uncle remembered as a father and king instead of a monster.” Fréaláf tells her.
“Do you think there is any truth to it? The things that happened there were not entirely natural.” She admits.
“I cannot say, but I can ask the masons to seal his tomb with double the stone if you are worried he may escape.”
Héra frowns, “Is that meant to be a joke?”
“Not entirely.”
“Do it. I think he would like to be buried near his sons and his city.” She relents.
He closes his eyes and sighs, “I’m glad you came.”
“You could have said you were recovering well.”
“At least I sent a note instead of my crown in a box.” He jests, smiling in spite of the somber topic they had been discussing.
“You’re horrid.”
“Haleth thought I was funny.” He reminds her.
“He did.”
“I miss him. There are days when I feel as if I have stolen this from him.” Fréaláf admits.
“He would have wanted it to go to you.”
“Or to you.”
She folds her arms over her chest, “We both know I would not be well suited to it.”
“Are you happy cousin?” He asks, “I worry for you.”
“I think so. As happy as I can be.”
He nods, “All the same, I wish you would come home.”
“I can’t.”
“I know. Maybe once more time has passed?” He turns over onto his side to look at her.
She sits up and adjusts the furs to better cover her cousin and then leans down to kiss his cheek, “Perhaps one day.”
He settles and watches her for a moment, “Thank you for coming.”
“Don’t ever scare me like this again, do you understand?”
He nods, “And Héra?”
“Yes cousin?”
“Would you fetch me one of the warming stones from the hearth?”
Her eyes narrow, “Is there no one else the King can call on to warm his feet for him?”
“None but you.”
She smiles and relents, taking a fur off the end of the bed and wrapping it around one of the hearth stones, “Fine, but after this I’m am leaving you to tend to poor Aeshere.”