Private Tales The Ten O'Clock News and the Morning Blues

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka had gotten the letter late the night before and she had received no sleep at all because of it. She had sat awake in her room in the monastery, reading the letter over and over until she had memorized every line, but it had not helped her great feeling of unsettlement. Worse than the confusion and desperation she had felt when dealing with the construct, now she was not sure how to feel- she could not express how she did feel in words. And even if she could, to whom would she tell all her woes? While she was not lonely or friendless by any means, she had no close friends with whom she could share anything. She could not burden her fellow knights with her woes (or whatever they were, she still wasn't sure).

She rubbed her eyes, her head throbbing faintly. The letter lay beside her; it was creased and worn smooth, the writing already smudged from being read hundreds of times throughout the night. She picked it up once more, her eyes dancing across the parchment, her mind not reading what was on the page; instead, replaying the words that had been branded inside of her mind.

Her father was dying.

Lord Valkas had sent her away to the Astenvale Monastery when she was nine after her mother's death, because she was a bastard. Though she shared his name, she would share none of his assets. Or at least that was what she had thought. Apparently her father had failed to produce a legitimate heir and his advisors were now suggesting he reach out to Byanka, his only daughter. In the letter, he was asking her to return home to help him set his affairs in order, and so that when he inevitably died (he was quite dramatic about the state of his health), she could take over and succeed him as Lady Valkas.

And once more Byanka returned to her feeling of unsettlement. She was unused to change, and this was a significant change. She did not know if she would be able to continue to serve as a Knight if she decided to accept her newfound wealth and power, nor did she know if she should grieve and be sad about her father's sickness and impending death. She had spent nine years of her life with him (though most of it was spent with her mother), but he had been so quick to give her up and continue on his privileged life with his wife, as if Byanka's mother had meant nothing to him.

Deciding she needed a strong pot of coffee, she rose from her chair, tucked the letter into the pocket of her trousers. She walked down the hall quietly; the sun was barely up, casting a pinkish gray light across the floor and walls.

Monroe

 

[Monroe]

The Knoll was a known haunt for the dawnling, but most of her fellow Sworn had yet to spy her frequenting the armchair closest to the fire, shoulder length hair unbound and falling forward as her head bent down to scrutinise the page she was scratching at, creating thought into subpar imagery. She always had to keep her mind busy, and learning to draw, to learn the shapes and motions, kept her occupied the longest.

The dawnling chewed at her lip, using her smallest finger to rub away a line, the space above her brows creasing into indentations of steady concentration.

She did not lift her head at the sound of someone entering, nor did she register who in particular came in looking rather ragged without a wink of sleep. Monroe, too, did not retire for the night, having stayed here in this seat after clinking tankards with those she would call friend and acquaintance, in which she had few.

An ache made itself known at the back of her neck, and Monroe sighed, shoulders falling as she finally lifted her head and gave it a stretch.

Honeyed brown eyes fell upon the younger Knight, easy to spot as the other patrons were not a picture of energy given the time. They were simply too far gone in their drink to move, but Monroe had worn off her drink hours before.

"Valkas?" Her voice was no louder than a small whisper, knowing the other will see and hear her.

Byanka Valkas

 

[Byanka Valkas]

The Knoll was quiet this early in the morning, and the people in it were sparse and barely conscious. the only sounds were snores and the scratching of pen against parchment. Monroe sat by the fire, head bent low over her work. Byanka did her best not to bother her as she fixed herself a strong pot of coffee. She had considered alcohol but decided booze would only make her headache worse, especially this early in the morning.

She held her steaming mug, debating whether she should take the pot with her back to her room, when a voice called her name. Or rather, her father's name. She wondered if she would have noticed or even cared if anyone had called her by her surname before the letter.

Byanka looked up at Monroe, who also had the appearance of someone who hadn't had much sleep, though she wore it better than Byanka.

"Yes?" she replied, the steam from her coffee warming her jaw.

Monroe

 

[Monroe]

Monroe watched her for a moment, tapping a finger against the page of her book.

"You look like shit." She finally commented, closing the book and setting it aside. "Fixing dreams again?"

She remembered how the dusker would work herself to the bone to keep the minds of others at ease... but who watched over her? Made sure Byanka was at ease?

There was an insistence in her, a small voice in her mind encouraging her to reach out to the other Knight.

With a heavy sigh, Monroe fixed her honeyed eyes onto the younger woman.

"Come, sit. If you take that chair by the fire, I promise it will make the coffee work better."

Byanka Valkas

 

[Byanka Valkas]

She knew she looked like shit, but did the other woman have to point it out? She didn't say anything to it though.

"No," she replied softly. She almost wished she had; it would've worn her out enough that she could've slept. She probably still would have looked like shit though.

Monroe invited her to sit but heaved a heavy sigh as she did so, as if it was an exhausting pain for her. Byanka hesitated a moment, not wanting to force herself upon Monroe, even if she had begrudgingly invited her over.

Eventually she did move over to sit in the chair by the fire. "Thank you," she murmured, before taking a small sip of her slowly cooling coffee.

Monroe

 

[Monroe]

Monroe was quiet for a minute, leaving the young dusker to situate and relax before she began to ask questions. There were those that could manage on little sleep, like herself, but Byanka held onto that cup of dark liquid with such desperation to remain in this moment. Something rocked her off balance, kept her retreating into her mind, and Monroe knew the girl enough to know that the mind was something she excelled in.

"Does this happen often for you? Nightmares?" She could be wrong, way off course, but Monroe knew how to keep one talking and distracted.

Her charcoal placed between thumb and forefinger, began to circled around locks of her short hair, aimlessly. Monroe rarely sat still, and keeping herself here meant she was no longer drawing; her hands suffering from momentary idleness.

Byanka Valkas

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka turned her gaze to Monroe, shaking her head. "It wasn't a nightmare," she replied. It wasn't as if she never had nightmares before but they were few and far between.

She reached into her pocket, retrieving the letter. She held it for a moment before she extended the paper to Monroe across the space between them. Even as she did it, she wondered if she should. She told herself it couldn't hurt and took a gulp of coffee from her steaming mug.

Already the coffee was working its magic, its warmth spreading through her insides. Though perhaps that was the fire. Either way her headache eased a bit, and she took the moment to focus on her breathing.

Monroe

 

[Monroe]

Monroe took the offered parchment and brought it in close to begin reading.

By the end, her brows furrowed. It wasn't the same way they appeared any given time when her annoyance was present, but one of concern. There was little in common between the two Sworn, but Monroe could imagine the loss of words the younger would be struggling with after reading such a letter.

"Never thought you had any living family to be honest." She held the letter out for Byanka to take back. "You..." Never mentioned them. And Monroe was guilty of the same thing, except telling Faramund, her closest friend. "You going to write back or will you ask for some leave to go tend to your family affairs?"

Byanka Valkas

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka took the letter back after Monroe read it. She was silent for a moment, folding the paper back up and sliding it into her pocket once more.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said. "I don't know what I want to do,"

She looked into the black depths of her coffee. She did not want to give up her life as a Knight, but she did not feel good about leaving her father to die alone with no heir. Even if he had kicked her out hours after her mother's death.

She wondered half-heartedly if there was some way she could do both.

Monroe

 

[Monroe]

Monroe drummed her fingers against the leather bound sketchbook, looking to Byanka and her helpless, clueless face.

"No need to make decisions now. You should hear him out, see him. Take some time to see what it is he intends for you to do in his name." At least see him, no matter how awkward things may be between father and daughter.

What she wouldn't give to see her family, her friends. Faces she began to forget, voices she no longer could recognise as memory or coping in her mind.

"I know... I am no Syr Saskia, but I am happy to accompany you." She even attempted a strained smile, dropping it when she realised it only hindered her words.

Byanka Valkas

 

[Byanka Valkas]

As Monroe spoke, Byanka knew she was right. Just going to visit him was not an answer. She did not have to make any decisions right now. Perhaps seeing her father and talking to him would help her decide what to do. She had the tendency to believe the best in people, and she had hope that he would reveal himself to be a kind man. He had written her the letter, hadn't he?

Byanka turned to the other woman, smiling faintly at her offer and her tense smile. She didn't know Monroe well, but she still knew the woman well enough to know that she seemed to be in a constant state of sourness, so her kindness, no matter how strained it appeared, meant a lot to Byanka.

Byanka nodded, her smile not moving from her face. "I would appreciate that, truly," she replied softly.

Slowly around them, those who had drank themselves to unconsciousness began to stir, and a few other knights and squires trickled in as the sun rose higher in the sky. Byanka's headache was eased but still faintly present, as it always seemed to be. She had learned to live with it now.

Monroe

 

[Monroe]

Monroe leaned back and resumed her quiet lounging, watching those moving and coming back form the dead of their drunken states. Despite having been drinking and laughing with them hours ago, they knew not to stare at her too long or face her icy stare, or worse. No one came to disturb them, which the dawnling preferred to give her sister-in-arms reprieve from putting up a facade if one where to inquire about her wellbeing.

Only when the Knoll was considerably more empty of bodies did Monroe turn to Byanka. "Right, we should go clear some leave. I can handle that if you want to start packing?"

Byanka Valkas

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka was silent, focusing on her coffee and trying not to think about her receding headache for fear that it could sense her thoughts and would return just to spite her. Her mug was nearly empty by the time Monroe spoke once more.

Byanka nodded. She could pack. She needed to do something, keep herself busy so she wouldn't think about the letter for too long and fall down the rabbit hole once more.

She rose to her feet, casting her dark hazel eyes around the once more empty Knoll, and made to leave, right as Faramund walked in the door. She paused, feeling vaguely awkward, suddenly very aware of her position between Monroe and Faramund. Byanka was not daft, she knew there was something between the two of them.

Faramund Monroe

 

[Faramund]

The day was just dawning when Faramund strode into the Knoll, a keg under each arm. Road-weary, and still a bit tired, he had arrived back to the Monastery just in time to help unload the supply wagons rolling in from the village. Food, drink, medicine. Even surplus steel from the village blacksmith - Rulgak was good like that.

He almost walked headlong into Byanka. The knight was a lot shorter than him, and remarkably light on her feet. Funny, that.

'Byanka,' he greeted her, tired eyes taking in the dusker. Tired, torn, maybe a little sad. 'You look like shit.' Someone moved further in, by the fireplace. Faramund's expression didn't change as he recognised Monroe, though his heart beat just a little bit faster as he nodded, pleased. 'Guess that makes three of us.'

Smiling, he stepped past, made for the kitchens.

'You ladies managed to survive the party, then?' He called out to them, disappearing for a moment. 'Bastard's must've known I was coming... damn near drank the place dry.' He had passed a few of his Sworn brothers on the way in, all pale, stinking of booze and looking like death.

Reappearing, he approached the two knights, unburdened. By kegs, at least.

'Did something happen?' He asked, noticing the empty look in Byanka's eyes. 'Roe?'

Monroe Byanka Valkas

 

[Monroe]

Monroe schooled her expression to remain vacant, the typical face one would associate with her as well as her scowl. Seeing Faramund was not something that bothered her, it was when they ended up alone she began to squirm.

But with Byanka present, and Faramund his usual clueless self until he realised none of them truly held conversation with him, Monroe was able to quirk a brow at him when he questioned her finally.

"Syr Valkas received a letter from her father. She needs to go see him, hear him out... and I offered to accompany her. I... was on my way to see... just to get permission for leave." Gods, did she have to falter like that? She stood tall, not as tall as Faramund, but her face fell into that scowl she was known for. "So, excuse us. We must hurry actually."

Because she did not want to stick around to see him handling those kegs, not when a comment was ready at her lips that Monroe in her current, sobered state, would want to say in front of Byanka.

Byanka Valkas Faramund

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Faramund's words hurt more than they should have, especially considering Byanka knew he didn't mean it as an insult. Or at least she hoped so. "Thanks for noticing," she mumbled, turning her gaze away as he moved towards the kitchens.

For some reason Byanka stayed in the mess hall until he reappeared, though she knew she ought to just leave and get a head start on packing. When Faramund finally caught on that something wasn't right, Monroe spoke up first. Byanka swallowed hard, wishing Monroe would just call her Byanka; she didn't particularly care for her father's name at the moment.

Finally, Byanka did leave, after Monroe finished speaking. She was the first out the door and she would not stop on her way back to her room unless someone called out to her. Which was highly unlikely, but didn't make Byanka feel any better.

Monroe was going with her, she told herself, didn't that count for something?

She didn't think about it for too long and hurriedly shoved an assortment of clothes into a small trunk. It was not a long journey, and she knew her father was wealthy enough to take care of them while they were there. Usually she wouldn't have relied on anyone else but she thought rather vindictively that it was the least he could do.

Monroe Faramund

 

[Faramund]

We must hurry. Always with the bloody hurrying. 'Right.' Rubbing at his eyes, the big dawnling sniffed, made to follow after Byanka. 'And would you two care for some company on this trip?' He inquired thoughtfully, realising his earlier blunder and attempting to make up for it. 'Byanka?'

But the dusker was gone. Back to her room, no doubt.

'The letter. Bad news, I assume?' Faramund sighed. Valkas, Valkas, Valkas. He knew the lands over which Byanka's family presided. His rangings took him far and wide, to many a noble house. For every one that showed disdain, there were two that still remembered the old bonds. Lord Kavvin certainly did.

Glancing at Monroe, Faramund flashed a wary smile.

'You should go with her, make sure she's alright,' he said, knowing that Byanka was probably far from it. 'I'll request some leave for the pair of you, find out where I'm off to next.' There was always another patrol in the works, another hunt that needed taking care of. 'With any luck, it'll take me in the same direction.' Rarely did he stay at the monastery long.

More's the pity.

Monroe Byanka Valkas

 

[Monroe]

Monroe did her best not to make a face at Faramund's suggestion to go after Byanka. It wasn't her thing to go comfort anyone, aware she lacked the tact and patience for such a thing. Following him out from the Knoll, she quirked a brow at him. "Her father is ill, wants her to visit to discuss her duty as his named heir. I told her she didn't need to make a decision until she's heard the terms and sat with the idea."

They walked side by side, but the dawnling was ever aware of how close they were, their hands easily could brush against each other...

"I only offered my company because there is nothing for me to do at the moment. You know me, I get restless when given too much downtime." Or spend the eve drinking until even that became boring. "You... should come along. She looks up to you. All the young Knights do." It wasn't bitterness in her voice, but understanding and admiration. Faramund had a way with people. Hells, he got Monroe to crack her first smile besides the sight of someone hurting themselves in an embarrassing manner. "I probably would say the wrong thing."

Byanka Valkas Faramund

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka finished packing and changed, braiding her long hair back. She met her own gaze in a small mirror sitting on her bedside table. She did look like shit, but admitting it to herself did not make her feel any better. The coffee had eased the edge off the dark circles under her eyes, but her skin was still ghostly pale and her eyes trimmed in red from lack of sleep.

She turned away from the mirror, picking up her small trunk as she made her way back down the hall, others rising and milling about. The sun was fully up now, and most of the Monastery was awake, but no one else spoke to her. Perhaps it was because she looked like shit.

She shook her head. She really ought to stop thinking about that, it did her no good. She returned to the Knoll to get a breakfast of sorts: a slice of bread and an apple.

Faramund Monroe

 

[Faramund]

Faramund noticed the way Monroe kept glancing at his hand. Any other day, it would have been enough to make him smile. But not today, it seems. 'They look up to me, huh?' Faramund stopped to stare after Byanka, a wry grimace on his face. Someone somewhere certainly had a twisted sense of humour. 'I'm not sure that's true. And even if it was, shit... I'm not exactly the perfect representation of what a knight should be.' Valorous, honourable, compassionate... Definitely not wise.

None of those things much mattered to him, anyhow. Not now he knew who he was... or rather what he was.

Scritching his beard thoughtfully, Faramund dispelled his musings with a shake of the head. Byanka needed support, and though he wasn't sure he was the right man for the job, he knew Roe well enough to see she was right. 'Alright, then, I'll come!' Turning to face Monroe, the big dawnling was surprised to catch her glancing at his hand again.

This time he really did smile.

'But before I go, there's one last item of business I'd like to get out of the way first.' Taking both her hands in his own, Faramund leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips. He could hear footsteps on the grass around them, feel eyes digging into his back. He didn't much care.

Stepping away before Monroe could make sense of what had just happened, Faramund headed off in search of a Master to talk to. He had a report to make, after all, and a few days leave to formally request.

Monroe Byanka Valkas

 

[Monroe]

Monroe had been ready to argue with him it had nothing to do with being an upstanding knight of the Order, that the younger ones looked to him for his support and guidance.

She did not need to remind him of such once he agreed to accompany them, a sense of relief flooding through her. Afraid to say the wrong thing, or simply not be the comfort and support Byanka would need from her, to ask Faramund to help her with this...

But his hands moved, reaching for her own, and with panic and a scowl clashing across her face, she watched as Faramund claimed her in a kiss. She stilled, watching nothing in particular as he went on his way to do what he said he'd do and to leave Monroe reeling in the aftermath.

Others had seen, looking to her woth surprise and curiosity, but soon averted their gazes when she directed a scathing look at them.

Twenty minutes later would find Monroe at the Knoll once again, refreshed from her lack of sleep and dressed for a journey on horseback. She dropped her pack onto the floor beside the table Byanka sat at, and watched the younger woman. "Faramund is going to accompany us. You don't mind, do you? He's probably better conversation than me on the road."

She knew that to be true by how often she wished to throttle him on their last journey returning home from scouting cultists.

Byanka Valkas Faramund

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka looked up when Monroe appeared in front of her. So Faramund was indeed coming along. Byanka couldn't help herself; she raised an eyebrow and said, "So whose idea was it?"

There was no real bite or anger behind her words, but already she did feel like a third wheel. And with Faramund's reputation... lovely, she thought, just lovely.

"I don't mind," she added after a moment, and it was the truth. She liked Faramund well enough and beggars couldn't be choosers.

"How soon could we leave?" she asked, rising from her seat. She was usually good at sitting still and reflecting on her thoughts but after eight hours of doing just that she was itching to move.

Faramund Monroe

 

[Faramund]

'Now, if you wish.' Appearing at Byanka's shoulder, the burly knight adjusted his pack where it rested across his shoulders. He had been busy, these last twenty minutes, rushing around like a headless chicken to secure leave for the two women. He had wrangled an extra patrol for himself, though he kept that part to himself.

Kavvin Valkas was a valuable ally, Syr Lyra had agreed. Sending representatives -one of them his own, natural daughter- was the least they could do. Especially since he had requested her presence in the first place.

'Have you eaten?' Faramund asked, noticing the apple and the lone slice of bread. 'I know you probably don't feel like it, but you should eat.' He glanced over at Monroe, grimacing slightly as he did. 'You, too. It's a short ride, true, but six hours on an empty belly is, for lack of a better word... shit.'

Byanka Valkas Monroe

 

[Monroe]

It was as if the image of Faramund before her struck her with a scowl, remembering the daring act he did before they parted ways earlier, and possibly brought on by Byanka's questioning moments before.

Monroe reached for a passing bread basket, taking the still warm roll and placing it on the table before her. "And some butter too." She called out, refraining from rolling her eyes at Faramund's fussing. She wasn't one to break her fast, but considering she skipped dinner also before drinking the Knoll dry with other celebrating knights, perhaps it wasn't a bad idea to fill her belly with food.

Not that she would let Faramund know he was right.

"Off somewhere, Cathmore? Here." The Knight carting the bread around placed a wrapped portion of butter, enough for her roll, and a jar of honey. She didn't need all of it, but stowed it into her pack either way.

"Well, I'm ready." She shrugged, figuring she would eat on the way.

Byanka Valkas Faramund

 

[Byanka Valkas]

Byanka jumped a bit when Faramund appeared beside her. She nodded, finishing off a piece of bread and sticking her apple in her pack.

"Did you eat?" she asked Faramund, turning to look at him. He had gotten them all leave and was making sure they ate, but no one had made sure he had eaten his own breakfast.

"Thank you," she said after a moment, turning to look at Monroe as well, "both of you; for coming with me." She truly did appreciate the effort they were going through to help her, to make sure she was not alone, especially not now.

She fidgeted absently with the end of her long braid, thinking offhandedly she ought to cut it.

Faramund Monroe