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As the day waned, a peaceful silence had settled over the Roundtable Hold. It was in those moments that Fia would sometimes wander its corridors, her soft steps in rhythm with Hewg's hammer as she collected her thoughts. It was during one such walk that Rogier returned, supported by the sturdy arm of his hunter companion. He appeared to be simply weary at first glance, but as she approached, the crimson stains on his clothing revealed a more harrowing tale.
“Rogier!” Fia gasped, coming to his aid as D carefully deposited him into a nearby chair. “What happened?”
Rogier sat motionless and silent as her eyes looked him over, his features obscured by the broad brim of his hat. Despite his appearance, he seemed unharmed, yet a terrible shadow cast a pall over his presence.
“An ambush,” D answered in a gruff manner, turning his attention to Rogier. “I warned him to keep away… that Summonwater is lost.”
“Godrick's ilk, no doubt.” A voice remarked from the adjoining hallway. It was Nepheli Loux, having come from her father's study. “They've been prowling the area as of late, looking for stragglers.” She then gave a polite bow, adding, “Forgive my intrusion. I couldn't help but overhear.”
D nodded in response. “It is as you say.”
“I seem to be causing quite a stir.” Rogier said suddenly, rising from his seat. “If you would excuse me.” He turned to Fia, though his face was still hidden, “my lady,” before brushing past her.
“Rogier!” She called after him, but he paid her no mind. Instead, rushing down the corridor and disappearing from view.
“Let the man be,” D advised, the hollow eyes of his helm staring down at her. “Maybe the quiet will grant him the clarity he desperately needs.”
Fia wasn't quite sure what to make of the hunter's words, though she had her suspicions and sensed that he did as well. It was clear that no amount of persuasion from her beloved Rogier would change his mind, so she chose to remain silent... If only for his sake.
“I wouldn't worry too much, Lady Fia,” Nepheli intervened, as if somehow sensing the growing tension, clapping Fia on the shoulder. It was meant as a friendly gesture, though she was startled somewhat. “Rogier is a formidable warrior, in his own right. With some well-deserved rest, he'll be his jovial self again.”
Fia gave a solemn nod, “yes,” staring off into the direction that Rogier had fled. “I’m sure you’re right.”
It wasn’t long after that Fia found herself at Rogier's doorstep, hoping to at least look in on him before retiring to her quarters. She pressed her hand against the wooden door, feeling his presence on the other side, while the other held her hood securely around her neck. She knocked lightly.
Once…
Twice…
“Dear Rogier, may I enter?” She asked tentatively.
There was a brief moment of stillness and she held her breath, waiting for his response. Nothing. Her hand instinctively reached for the knob, but then...
“I wouldn't make for pleasant company, at the moment.” He said at last, though his voice felt hollow, perhaps distant. “Please, forgive me.”
Against his request, she opened the door anyway and slowly stepped inside. In his haste to distance himself from everyone, it seemed he had neglected to lock the door.
“Rogier?”
He sat by the modest hearth on an old footstool, the cover of his bed wrapped tightly around him as he stared deeply into the dancing flames. His clothes were carelessly strewn in a heap by her feet, she noticed, suggesting he had impulsively shed them upon entry. Even his staff and rapier appeared to have been dropped where he stood, laying criss-crossed on the floor.
“I haven’t the vigor to share with you, at present.” His tone remained unchanged as he spoke, turning his head ever so slightly towards her.
Fia clenched her hood a little tighter. “Do you think that is why I have come?”
With a forlorn look, he turned away and pulled the blanket around himself even more, like a turtle seeking solace within its shell. “Please, my lady… I don't wish to be seen like this.”
Fia sadly shook her head. How foolish the hearts of men could sometimes be. Nevertheless, she gathered her confidence and approached him, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“My dearest Rogier,” she said after a moment, taking his face gently into her hands. It bore the evidence of battle, with blood having congealed on his left cheek. “There is nothing you can be that I would not hold you.” Though she could feel his hesitation, he did not pull away, his wet, green eyes gazing up at her expectantly. “Lest you forget,” she continued, “I have felt your very soul…”
Rogier could feel more tears welling up behind his eyes at her words, like a flood of years yearning to break free. With her, he experienced his emotions more profoundly than with anyone else. It was a frightening, yet beautiful gift he had become accustomed to… and still, he found himself unprepared. The events of the day still lingered in his mind, and it had unsettled him in some indescribable way.
“Forgive me, my darling,” he muttered, pressing his forehead into the familiar comfort of her robes. “Despite my best efforts, nothing I do seems to truly matter.” His eyelids slipped shut, allowing a few tears to spill freely. “Not back home... and not in this place,” he feigned a chuckle. “Perhaps I was a fool to believe otherwise.”
Rogier seldom spoke of his past, and when he did, it was more about his homeland, with its beautiful glintstone spires and the proud culture of his people, rather than home itself. All she really knew was that he was the bastard son of a prominent aristocrat, but it wasn't difficult to read between the lines.
“No, it is your unwavering spirit that has seen you this far.” Fia soothed, her fingers gently stroking his dark hair. “It is a true test of heart to remain strong, yet gentle in this harsh world.” She lifted his head then to place a tender kiss on his brow. “…And it is your heart that I cherish most of all.”
“Fia… My beautiful, darling Fia…”
Her words washed over him like Celestial Dew, washing away the dark and desperate thoughts that sought to engulf him. He reached up to embrace her, his blanket falling to his waist, revealing his nakedness as he held her in turn.
“Everything’s alright now,” she continued to reassure him. The faint scent of Death was on him — a mixture of earth, and blood, and tears — but she chose not to inquire; rather, she reached down to adjust the blanket around his waist, respectfully covering his manhood. “A warm bath and a good night's sleep will do you well. I will take care of it.”
Fia turned from him to begin the task at hand, causing Rogier to frantically seize her by the arm. “I’d rather remain here!” Only to realize his grip was perhaps a bit too tight, and so he withdrew it apologetically. “Please…”
“If that is what you wish…” Fia acknowledged, drawing said hand up against her chest as she pondered what to do. “Allow me to help you clean off, at the very least? You will rest easier.”
Rogier nodded and Fia moved toward his bedside table, her hands reaching for the copper ewer and wash basin. She sat them by the fire, allowing the water to warm slightly, before pouring it into the bowl with a leftover clump of soap.
With a towel in hand, she pulled her hood back as she knelt in front of him. Rogier watched her briefly, the fire illuminating her beautiful golden tresses as she dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and tenderly pressed it to his cheek. He winced slightly as she began to clean the blood away, revealing an angry, red line underneath.
“It’s not so bad,” she reassured him, diligently working to cleanse the wound without irritating it too much. “Just dirt mostly… I do not think it will leave a mark.”
“…And here I thought you liked my scars,” he attempted to sound nonchalant, but his downcast eyes suggested otherwise.
“Indeed,” she countered with a playful smile, hoping to turn his mind toward more pleasant thoughts. “Though I am quite satisfied with the ones you already possess.”
His gaze lifted to hers and a soft chuckle escaped him, but regardless of her attempts, he found himself being pulled back into the depths of his restless mind. Still, his eyes remained fixed on Fia, observing her as she repeatedly soaked the washcloth, relishing the comforting warmth of the water and her caress against his skin, clinging to whatever peace her presence could offer.
“Did he tell you what happened?” He asked her suddenly, quietly.
Rogier was careful about mentioning D whenever he was with Fia, and vice versa. At least, not directly, if it could be avoided. Whether that was for their benefit or his own, however, he was no longer certain.
“Only that you were ambushed,” she answered, glancing up at him as she gently wiped down his neck and chest. “He also mentioned Summonwater… Is that where you were headed?”
He gave a solemn nod. “An old acquaintance, one of the merchant folk… He told me something quite interesting.” His eyes shifted to hers, his tone soft yet serious. “One of his kin encountered a traveler who professed to have witnessed walking bones near there.”
Fia paused, her eyebrows arching slightly. “Did you find anything?”
“Nothing, unfortunately.” Rogier hung his head, sighing. “Nothing save Godrick's men and that—” His shoulders tensed, fingers tightening around the blanket at his waist, but then he seemed to relax again… Somewhat.
Fia could feel his heart pounding as she held the washcloth against his chest. “It’s alright,” she told him, “you're safe now.”
He slowly placed his hand atop hers, feeling her as he often did. “Am I?”
“I don't understand,” she replied, a cold feeling washing over her. “Pray, share with me what troubles you… Let me comfort you as always."
“Bodies,” he began ominously. “They were loading them into a wagon… Some were still alive.” His gaze lingered on the fire as he squeezed Fia’s hand, his thumb brushing back and forth across her knuckles. “There were only a few soldiers… I managed to slip past, do a little digging, and then… that's when I saw it.”
Though his hold had grown painfully tight, she did not pull away. She would be whatever he needed, for such was her duty. Perhaps she asked too much of him.
“It?”
“One of Godrick's abominations,” he practically hissed, “crafted from the very limbs and faces of men... There is no rest, no hope of return... only a relentless rage, thrashing and screaming — oh Marika, the screaming.” His hands started shaking. “I’d scarcely drawn my sword before it was on top of me.”
Fia lifted her other hand to grasp the one on hers, pleading. “Rogier… Dearest, look at me,” but her words were lost as his gaze remained fixed on the flames.
“I thrust my sword into it and twisted, but…” He kept going. “Blood… so much blood… So hot, the stench… I…” Tears welled in his eyes again. “I couldn't breathe… I couldn't…”
“Rogier!”
His wide eyes found hers when she grabbed his cheek, imploring him to focus on her. His bottom lip trembled as he clung to her hand. “Fia… I was in the wagon,” he recalled suddenly, or so he thought. “And D was there… He found me, but… I was…” Dead? He trailed off as he concentrated on her. Despite the fear that gripped him, her soft, warm eyes were his anchor.
“Shh… It's all over. You're here now,” she cooed, “I have you," and then she leaned in to press her lips to his. “I will always have you…”
“Fia…” He let out a sigh, leaning into her as he returned her kiss, once, then twice.
“Come now,” she beckoned, taking his clutched hand with her as she pulled away, “much has happened, and you are in dire need of rest.”
Rogier nodded again, allowing her to assist him as he climbed into bed. Fia gently took the blanket from him, helping him settle in as she spread the cover over him. She then turned her attention to his bloodied attire.
“Try and rest,” she said, pressing a kiss to his brow before turning away. “I will see that your clothes are washed properly.”
Her touch felt as if it were the last, and Rogier reached out to grasp her arm, albeit gently this time. “It can wait.” He said, "please, darling,” sliding his hand into hers. “I would rather you stay.”
Fia regarded him with a sense of unease and pity. His hand felt so delicate in her own, almost child-like, pleading. “Alright,” she assured him, as always. “I am here for whatever you need.”
He seemed to relax at her words. Fia slowly withdrew from his grasp, stepping back a little as she began to disrobe for him. “Would you like me to undress further?” She asked, attempting to steer his troubled thoughts once more.
“Only if you're comfortable,” he responded. He was well-acquainted with Fia's body, as she was with his. She had bestowed healing and blessings to many, yet he was among the select few who had genuinely experienced her love and affection, and for that he would always be grateful.
“I am always comfortable with you,” she added, smiling.
Rogier watched as her gown slid gracefully to the floor, his weary eyes wandering the soft curves of her naked body, and the way her long hair shimmered against her porcelain skin… Her beauty never ceased to captivate him, and he found himself lazily smiling back at her.
“A rune for your thoughts?” She tried teasing.
Rogier chuckled slightly, recalling a happier moment. “I would prefer to think of you.”
“As you should,” she remarked, a touch of playfulness to her voice as she crawled into bed with him. It felt good to see him smile, however brief.
He extended an arm towards her and she welcomed him into her embrace, his head coming to rest against her soft, bare breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling her subtle, musky scent as he attempted to settle in.
“Rest now, my dearest,” Fia said, softly combing her fingers through the back of his hair. “I will watch over you and dispel your restless dreams.”
The tension in Rogier's body seemed to slowly subside, the gentle rhythm of her fingers chasing away the lingering shadows in his mind. His weary eyes soon fell closed, succumbing at last to the day’s events and the warm arms that enveloped him.