The room was silent and bathed in what little light the few remaining embers from the fire could shed. He was standing in the middle of it, half-empty flagon clutched loosely in a grubby hand, staring at one of her dresses as it hung in the wardrobe as though it were some kind of relic. Dark circles were drawn beneath his eyes, the obvious effect of several nights' lack of sleep. His face, typically twisted into a harrowing morose expression, still carried with it several days' stubble that was well on its way to becoming a full beard.
A quiet rapping fell upon the door.
He didn't answer, merely stood there staring at that dress with those now glassy green eyes, pensive, silent.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Leave me be," was all he said, though he did not turn to regard the person who disturbed the silence in the room. It was Christoph, the castle steward, come to check on a friend. "I said, 'leave me be'," he repeated, unable to control the obvious crack in his voice both due to drink and despair. But despite his plea for precious solitude, Christoph ushered himself into the room and threw open the drapes, allowing for the late-morning sunlight to bathe the otherwise gloomy room. The Huntsman, still clothed in a shabby doublet that he'd worn on the hunt a day ago, whirled about in an attempt to shut the drapes, only to gain an arm tangled in the fabric. Several downward strikes freed him, and shut out the light halfway. "If she has to remain in darkness, then so shall I," he stated, pitifully.
"You're being irrational," Christoph said in a conversational tone. "You've not slept for days, you've taken to drink - which is something you rarely did before - and you're clearly not eating."
It was then that he turned on his friend, stalking across the room toward him. He threw the flagon on the floor. "I'm tired of everyone looking at me like I'm a ghost," he roared. "Sick and tired of everyone apologizing for my loss. It was my fault, Christoph. If I'd not impregnated her, everything would've been perfectly well. She'd be in the chamber right now--"
"Enough!" Samuel was abruptly cut off by Christoph's sharp tone...
The next thing he knew, he was trudging through the forest on a bright, sunny morning in pursuit of a pheasant. The bird eluded him and led him to a place he'd never before seen, before it was cornered between a dense thicket and a sheer rock wall. The Huntsman quietly nocked an arrow and took aim, sending the thing flying through the air toward the bird. It hit its mark, but much to Samuel's terror, all things were not silent. A very distinct and piercing cry hit his ears. Three voices made up that cry. The first was Evelyn's, a pained cry as the Holy Fire finally took her. The second was the labor groan of Mereavus herself, and the third in a tiny, harrowing little voice was that of his would-be child...
He awoke with a start, all drenched with sweat and immediately turned to see the image of his wife, still sleeping soundly beside him. Relief washed over him, however it was doubtful he'd get any more sleep on this night, or those immediately succeeding it.
Sun Apr 12, 2009 3:33 pm