User:Semiiramiis

The Last Days of Grace (Chapter Two)

Better for it…I had my doubts by that night. Uther wanted a full measure of what my father had given him, from horsemanship to archery. Both I had been considered better than competent at, Uther just beetled his brows and glowered as he studied the pattern of shafts protruding from the target. “Your accuracy is acceptable.” He stated, and I sighed, fighting the urge to let my fingers tremble. “But you will not be hunting rabbits. And that would be all these would kill. But you have a grasp of archery, yes. And horsemanship. Your father is correct, it is best to send you untaught in the ways of war. You will require no…unteaching.” His glance fell to Arthas, who only twisted his lips in a wry smile. Obviously he’d not been that lucky, a prince would have been schooled in swordsmanship from childhood. “Arthas will drill you until you are good enough for me to take over. It will do him good to teach what he has learned. That is the true measure of comprehension.”

He strode off, leaving me an exhausted and filthy puddle of sweat and nerves. He was well gone before Arthas clapped me on the back. “Good job.” He said, “You made it.” I stared at him blankly for a moment, too caught up in myself to catch the moment. I was just… too tired, too grimy and lost to not show it. “You’ve been accepted to train with us. You will be moved into the barracks, as we all are. He was quite impressed. Come on, I’ll get your kit issued and give him enough time to go through your things…I hope you don’t have anything too private in it.”

“Um…no.” At least I didn’t think so. I hadn’t packed it….

“Good. I just know how my sister would react to Uther going through her things like that. Never hear the end of it.” He shrugged. “Let’s go get your kit.”

My kit. My father was not a soldier. He’d fought on the walls of Lordaeron because quite simply, there was no other choice. He knew when to fight, and that was then. He’d always had a sword and a harness because he was nobility, and noblemen had such things. So if I was to train with knights, I must need those as well. He’d had no use for shovels, fire sets, ground sheets, tents, portable tin dinnerware. I was to have all of the mundane gear of a soldier in the field and not a noble knight at his estate. My lovely harness was put away as well; it was too fine for an initiate. I would wear what all the others wore, including Arthas. “Let’s go see what Uther has left you.” Arthas laughed, shouldering one of the bags I’d been given. My own hands and shoulders were full, my kit was everything I’d need here, bedding, clothing…had I arrived completely empty handed, I would be set to go….right down to socks and undergarments.

“Your room.” He noted, moving to a door. It was ajar, and I could hear someone within, moving. I was afraid for a moment that I would have to share, but it was only Uther when Arthas pushed the door open with his shoulder. It was obviously meant for only one, little more than a cell. The cot, chest, and small desk within took up most of the available floor space, and Uther the rest.

“Evening, Lass.” He greeted easily. “Arthas calls this the checklist of confiscation… although not much of what you brought is not here. Some of your gowns are too fine for here, but I left you some pretty ones for festivals and market. You brought a great many books…” his gaze was puzzled. “Some I would like to borrow from you and have copied for our library here. Your father does not strike me as so… intellectual… a man. These you will be permitted to keep, of course.” He patted the teetering pile.

“When I realized I would be here for training, I took steps to read all I could about the arts I would be facing here.”

“Ah. And your apparent fascination with maps?”

“Nothing apparent at all. Maps are… the answer to most questions.” My lute rested on the desk next to him and I eyed it. He saw where my eyes rested, and picked it up. His hands were too large, too great, to hold it correctly, and he obviously had no idea how to anyway, but he treated it gently, like a baby passed to him by an overzealous relative. “You play?” He asked, and I nodded, waiting for it. Of all of my skills, it was the least martial, the one most reeking of that nobility he professed to want to take from me and replace with wool and small rooms. I was a little surprised that so simple and forthright a man would tease me with what he was about to deny me. He handed it over to me, moving to make room. “Please.” I tried its strings to make certain it had not gone out of tune during the jostling trip, while I flung around for a song. Although I was perfectly capable of the more complex songs currently en vogue in court, I struck the opening notes to an older song, a simple love song. I let my voice rise with the words, let them flow, closing my eyes to shut out Uther…and especially Arthas. I could feel both of their gazes on me, but it wasn’t as unwelcome as most attention was. I plucked the last notes and let the last plaintive word fade before opening my eyes. “I suppose you want me to put it away?” I asked, fixing my gaze on Uther’s face. He had remained utterly silent, and his expression was still.

“By the Light, no, Lass.” He laughed, but the laugh was false, the first falseness I had caught in him. “No, Lass.” He continued, the wrong fading from his voice and stance. “That would be a right crime. We are here to teach you.” He placed a hand over mine, where it rested on the lute’s belly. “I will take nothing away that does that. Clothing teaches you nothing, I take it away so that you can be one with the Order. You have been alone for so very long, it is time you are taken in somewhere, by someone. But we do not turn from the arts; they are part and parcel of what we fight for. A graceful life, in the Light. My young ones should be civilized, because that is what they fight for. I, personally, am not gifted…my hands are large and my voice is better suited to shouting across a battlefield than to song, but my ears hear well. I just wanted to know if you honestly did play it…if it is an affectation, an item you carry because all the other little ladies have one, then I would certainly put it away.”

“No, it is not an affectation. I play it quite often.”

“Of course you do, and you will keep it.” He nodded as if that settled it, and I supposed in this world, it did. Uther’s word was law. “You seem to be quite the…gamer.” He sighed, dropping the bag with my cards, bones, and dice on the table. “These… I must profess I do not like. They have done your father little good and much ill. However, since the others have been allowed to keep items of this nature, I cannot in conscience take them from you…”

I shrugged. “Take them or don’t.” I was under the impression that the crushing boredom of Brill was long gone. It must have been the right answer, because he only nodded. “Welcome to the Order, Clarimonde.” He smiled as he left, a smile echoed by Arthas. “See you in the morning.”

Everything hurt. I sat in the common dining hall, my forehead on the edge of the table, and contemplated what I’d managed to get myself into. Just a couple of days ago I’d been warm, garbed in finery, the only pain I could expect to experience that of lute strings. Now…

Someone sat beside me, and I was too despondent to lift my head to identify them. “You’ll live.” Arthas’s voice. “Maybe.” I muttered in response, staring at the flagstones. I wasn’t in the mood to even try to attract his interest. Jaina could have him, if the pain would just stop. If I could go home to Brill….

“Clarimonde….” He murmured, and I finally pulled my gaze up. “The Path of the Order is not easy. But this is the worst time. Let me guess, up until now, things have come very easy for you. You learn, you do, like you breathe.” “Yes.”

“I thought so. And Uther will push you beyond that. He will make you struggle. He did it to me, for like you, until I came here, things were easy. But it’s worth it. Fight. Be more than comes easily, and you’ll stop hating yourself.” “What makes you think I hate myself?” The distraction of his words faded away some of the pain, and I was able to eat. He shrugged, eating his own breakfast. “Simple. I took what I remembered and added what I knew of you to it. I came here because I wanted to be great, and I’d finally realized that the Menethil name didn’t necessarily make me so. I was spoiled, pampered, and surrounded by what was truly great, the Knights of the Hand. I want to be a King worthy of protecting Lordaeron, after what happened… You were very young, but you told Uther even you remembered. You were just a little girl, but you will never forget. And you’re one of the lucky ones…you lived to remember.”

The chill in the room deepened, and I clutched my mug between cold fingers. ''“Up!” My father, normally languid and controlled, desperately focusing beyond panic. He had snatched me from my bed, wrapping me in my blanket and throwing me to his shoulder. He was wearing armor, and I had blearily looked over his shoulder into the intent eyes of his Guardsmen. “Aaron! Aaron! What is it?” My mother, more annoyed than panicked then. “Put the child down. You’ll frighten her.”

“There’re horses in the yard. Go there now.”

“But…Aaron. ‘Tis the mid of the night…” Some of the situation had finally begun to sink in, her words had been wary. “Nothing is packed, and where do we go?” “We pack nothing. And we ride straight for the Capital.”

“Aaron, we cannot show up there like this…it’s…unseemly.” “Stormwind has fallen. It has been razed. The Abbey as well. The Crown’s orders are for every battle ready man to come to Lordaeron’s defense, and to bring his family to find shelter within the walls. We show up there like everyone else does, Moira. With the clothes on our back.” '' “I remember.” It had been a long hard ride, in deep silence. Lordaeron had been chaos, bitter, seething turmoil. I had been locked into a tiny, dark room, too shocked to even cry, and there I had stayed, for an eternity. “So do I. That birthed the Hand, Clarimonde.”

I knew that, of course. The Fall of Northshire Abbey, just outside of the gates of Stormwind had been the catalyst. Her priests had put up a valiant fight, overwhelmed by the Horde…if they’d had some martial training, it could have helped. And at the battle before Lordaeron’s gates, the newborn Order, led by Uther, had made its first stand… And the tide had been turned. I had survived.

“Never again.” Arthas breathed. “I don’t want to be the protected; I want to be the protector. No more hiding in a little room, knowing people are dying for me. I hated that the men who did that for me bowed and called me Your Highness, as if I was actually better than they were. I cannot be, the most I can hope for is to be an equal, and that I find here. But at least I have always been valued. You, I am not so certain.”

“My father wanted a boy.” That was putting it mildly, and his expression reflected that. “An heir to be proud of, like you are. Instead, he got me. And Uther does not understand that.” But Arthas did, I could feel it.

“True. Uther is childless. He has no family ties; we are the closest he has. To him, we are equally precious, and he does not comprehend how a father does not see it. You are lovely, if he can see it, then obviously the man who sired you must as well. Now, he knows your father is wrong, that he is the type who abuses authority, but he cannot apply that to you. Your father will steal coin, which is foul but comprehensible. But to not love his own blood, Uther cannot, will not, grasp that. And we should love him for it. And Uther will love you, Clarimonde, if you give him the chance…” He stared at his plate. “Now. Clarimonde, while undoubtedly a lovely name, is a bit of mouthful, especially in a pinch, and there are a lot of those around here. If you don’t mind, I’ll just call you Clair.” “Clair is fine.” “The Order will make you strong, Clair. And we need to be strong.” I shrugged, uncertain as to that. All I wanted was for the pain to stop, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen that day. Or the next. I spent that winter in the haven of the Order, safe and secure, untouchable as Uther’s ward. My father was arrested, and jailed, my mother sent to Lordaeron, and my lands put in trust to the Order. I grew stronger, more capable, and the pain vanished. I was where I belonged, with a father figure who cared, and a quasi brother who did as well. I no longer saw a joke in this, this was where I belonged… but things never stay calm. I’ve learned that well…