Riding Amongst Wildflowers - Chapter 10

Gareth's servants warmed up the bath while Alaina hid under the covers. When they left, Gareth picked her up from the bed and placed her in the warm water. The tension in her muscles relaxed instantly as the water surrounded her. He joined her in the bath, sitting behind and stretching his long legs on either side. He kneaded the tension from her shoulders with his strong hands, delivering the right amount of pressure. He washed her back and hair, combing his fingers through to untangle the knots. Alaina, who usually preferred to bathe alone, welcomed his presence. She turned around to wash him, using a sponge to rinse away the sand, dirt, and sweat.

Gareth's hands stroked Alaina's back, his touch lingering on her damp skin. The air in the bath seemed to grow heavy with unspoken sorrow as she summoned the courage to share her painful truth. The warmth of the water offered no solace for the ache in her heart. She turned to face him, her eyes brimming with tears, dreading the inevitable shattering of their newfound happiness. 

"There's something I have been meaning to tell you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the lapping of water. The weight of her words hung in the air, casting a shadow over the serenity of their bath. Gareth continued to sponge her down, his touch steady, yet she could sense his anticipation, his unspoken fear. Her heart clenched as she mustered the strength to utter the words that would forever alter their lives.

"I must marry the Prince," she finally revealed, the pain evident in her voice. Gareth's hands stilled, his gaze searching her face, desperately seeking any sign that her words were a mere fabrication. But as her confession sank in, his features hardened, a mask of anguish replacing the joy that had radiated from him earlier.

"I do not understand," he managed to utter, his voice devoid of the emotion that threatened to consume him. His eyes, however, betrayed his shattered spirit, the depths filled with turmoil and unanswered questions. Alaina felt her heart shatter in tandem with his.

"It would be in the best interest of Dunkeld and yours," she explained, her voice breaking with every word. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the pain she inflicted upon them. The water trembled as Gareth shifted, his turmoil spilling over and mingling with the overflow of the bath. He rubbed his temples as if struggling to comprehend the magnitude of her decision.

"Would it be in your best interest?" he asked, his voice calm, belying the seething storm within him. Alaina's breath hitched at the quiet desperation lacing his words, the vulnerability masked by his stoicism.

"My best interest does not matter, Gareth," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. With a swift motion, she brushed it away, "I do not want another war. I do not want bloodshed for my sake," she pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of her sacrifice. "I do not want the Western region to have another reason to detest the North."

"I still don't understand, Alaina," he implored, his voice strained, his eyes searching hers for a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of their dreams.

"I know the prince, Gareth. Better than anyone else. He will never allow our marriage. He will take you to war. Hann Aisle will have the support of all the regions; it will be a massacre of your northern men." Her sobs broke free as she hunched her body forward.

Gareth's breath hitched at Alaina's words, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched helplessly as tears streamed down her face, her body wracked with sobs. The weight of their impossible situation pressed upon him, threatening to crush his spirit. The silence that enveloped them felt suffocating, stretching into an eternity of agony.

When it finally emerged, his voice carried a bitter chill, betraying the turmoil within him. "I would like to see him try," he seethed, his voice laced with raw fury. He clenched his fists against the tub, his knuckles turning white. "If war is what he wants, then war he will get. I am not losing you, Alaina, Not when I finally have you. Not when everything is falling into place!"

As Alaina stared at him, her heart torn between her desires and the devastating consequences before them, she saw the tumultuous emotions roiling in his eyes. The intensity of his love, the fire of his determination, burned fiercely, demanding an answer and an explanation. But she couldn't speak the truth or confess the depths of her yearning, for it would unleash a storm that would consume them both. The pain in Alaina's chest grew more unbearable with each passing second. She knew Gareth would stop at nothing to be with her, to protect her from any threat. The thought of him facing insurmountable odds, sacrificing everything for their love, for her, filled her with longing and terror. She couldn't bear the weight of his sacrifice, the bloodshed that would stain their path and the lives that would be lost.

"Do you not want me?" he choked, "tell me you do not want me, and I will let you go". 

"Gareth, I …"

"If you want me, nothing in this world will keep me away from you. Not the prince, not even the thousands of men who would fight me if we went to war". His eyes bore into hers, pleading. She never hated herself as much as she did at this moment.

"I cannot allow that to happen", she sobbed, her voice cracking under the weight of her decision. The pain in her stomach and chest continued to get unbearable. As she predicted, nothing would stop him. She hated herself for selfishly wanting to be with him.

"Do you want me, Alaina?" he asked, his voice growing more frantic. All Alaina could do was sob into her shaking hands. He reached out and touched her face.

"The question is simple. Do you want me?" Gareth's desperate plea echoed through the room, his anguish reverberating in every word. Alaina's sobs grew more uncontrollable, her heart splintering with each passing moment. The words she needed to utter that would sever their bond clawed at her throat, choking her with grief and regret.

"Alaina, I love y-"

And then, with a sudden burst of anguish, she screamed, the sound tearing through the air like a wounded animal. 

"I do not want you!" she cried, her voice laden with pain. "I want to marry the Prince!" 

The words felt like a cruel betrayal, a lie that twisted in her mouth. She couldn't bear to see the devastation etched on Gareth's face, to witness the shards of his shattered heart. But she knew, deep down, that she had to push him away to protect him from the chaos that would ensue. "I want to live with the prince in Hann Aisle. Not in this wretched cold place, crawling with barbarians like you!" Her fingers flew to her mouth, attempting to hold back the regret and shock that flooded her being. The weight of her deceit pressed upon her, threatening to drown her in guilt. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air heavy with the ruins of their shattered dreams. The anguish in her heart mingled with the excruciating ache of the lies she spoke, leaving both their souls scarred and bleeding.

"Very well", he replied coldly.

"Gareth, no, I didn't -" She sounded pitiful.

"Leave me!" Gareth's voice thundered with an intensity that tore through Alaina's soul. It was as if his words were forged from molten anger and seared her skin. Her heart shattered into a thousand shards, and she felt her entire being crumble under his rejection. The anguish radiating from him was unequivocal, and she could sense the bitterness that consumed him.

"Gareth, this is -" Alaina's voice wavered, her words caught in her throat, unable to find their way out.

"I said, leave me! It is clear that I was not good enough for you then, and I am not good enough for you now. So leave me!" Gareth's voice lashed out again, cutting through the air like a cruel whip. His words struck her like a blow, leaving her breathless and wounded. The pain in his voice sliced through her like a searing blade, leaving her lost and broken.

She gripped her bare chest and stumbled out of the bath. The pain in her chest intensified, and tears poured down Alaina's flushed cheeks, their warmth contrasting against the coldness of her heart. She hurriedly pulled on her dress, her trembling fingers struggling to fasten it properly. The room seemed to spin around her, her blurred vision mirroring the chaos within her. With a great effort, she managed to open the door, stealing one last glance at Gareth. He remained motionless, a statue of anguish, bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace. Her heart ached for him to call out her name, to beg her to stay, but only a chilling silence greeted her departure.

As she stumbled out of the room, her every step felt like an eternity, each one carrying her farther away from the love she so desperately craved. Tears streamed down her face, leaving a trail of sorrow in her wake. "I love you, Gareth… I think I somehow always have," she whispered softly, her words carried away by the wind, lost in the emptiness that now consumed them both.

Alaina raced to the sanctuary of her room, seeking solace and solitude from the devastating aftermath of their encounter. Her drenched locks pressed uncomfortably against the fabric of her dress, clinging to her like a constant reminder of the turmoil that consumed her.

Her mind spun in circles with self-doubt and confusion, the weight of her choices pressing heavily upon her. A long wash basin caught her eye, and she instinctively gravitated towards it, finding a small measure of comfort in the mundane task of tending to her wet hair. Her movements were frantic as she peeled off the clinging fabric of her dress, casting it aside in a mixture of frustration and despair. She used the towel to dry her shivering body, her skin becoming raw with the repetitive motion.

Slipping into a soft nightdress, she collapsed onto the floor before the fireplace, seeking solace in the flickering flames. The icy tone of Gareth's voice echoed in her ears, chilling her to the core. She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling from the cold and the anguish that consumed her. Curling into a small, desolate heap, she rocked back and forth, allowing her body to release the torrent of tears that welled within her.

Exhaustion eventually overtook her, and her body and soul drained from the overwhelming anguish. She slumped into a fitful sleep, still shivering on the cold floor, a broken and wounded soul needing healing.

Gareth's heart thundered in his chest like a wild beast while the agony coursing through his veins tore at him with the ferocity of a dragon's breath. It felt as though his lungs had been ripped from his body by a sorcerer's cruel spell, replaced by an unyielding stone that refused to let him draw breath. As he struggled for air, each inhalation was a torment, causing his consciousness to flicker like the flame of a candle caught in a sudden gust.

Submerged in the once-steamy water, he could feel the frigid tendrils of an enchanted chill creeping in, transforming the bath into an icy pool that threatened to claim him as its own. The cold gnawed at his limbs, but his body had long been numb to the world's caresses, the pain a more potent enchantment than any sorcery.

His fingers had grown soft and wilted from their prolonged immersion. Yet their newfound fragility did nothing to detract from their calloused strength, even as the cold water conspired to steal the warmth from their touch.

The blood that coursed through his veins, once as rich and vibrant as the ruby-red sunsets of Dunkeld, now felt like a thousand shards of cursed glass, mercilessly tearing him apart from within. This was a pain like no other, a torment he had never experienced in his many adventures and battles.

With the weight of his suffering growing ever more unbearable, Gareth could do nothing but surrender to the darkness that beckoned him. He allowed himself to sink deeper into the frigid embrace of the bath, until the cold water claimed him completely. At that moment, as the icy shroud enveloped him, he could not help but think that even death itself would be a tender lover compared to this agony.

Incomprehension gnawed at his heart as he struggled to fathom the change that had befallen her. He clawed at his braided hair in frustration, desperate to make sense of the words she had uttered. Of all the possible outcomes he had prepared for, this had never crossed his mind. How could Alaina, after all they had shared in their time together, reject him so callously? Had his absence caused her to reconsider her choice? Had he misinterpreted her affections, her gestures of love? Was it possible that she did not share his depth of feeling?

The questions loomed before him like an insurmountable mountain of despair. How could she not trust that his strategy was sound, that the might of the King's forces would crumble before the united power of the northern tribes? Could she truly harbour such little faith in him?

He erupted from the water, his fury and bewilderment driving him forward. The frigid air lashed at his damp skin, but his thoughts were consumed by the need to prove his worth. He would not be dismissed as a feeble pawn by any noble, not even the King or the prince. Surely Alaina could not see him as weak, could she?

In haste, he clothed himself in his garments and armour, determination fueling his every movement. As he strode from his chamber, his heart remained torn, caught between the throes of heartache and the fires of rage.

Gareth ran down the castle corridors to Einar's room and burst through the doors without knocking. The sound of moans and the rhythmic thumps of wood filled the silence as he saw a servant on top of Einar, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

"Leave us!" shouted Gareth. Einar and the servant got up in shock, 

"I am busy!" Einar rebutted, his eyes filled with annoyance. The servant sheepishly stood from the bed, staring at him like a caught deer. Gareth noticed it was the same female servant who had thrown herself at him not too long ago.

"Leave!" he shouted, throwing her dress at her. "Now!" 

She left so hurriedly that she did not even clothe herself before bounding out the door.

"Was that necessary?" Einar asked in frustration, standing up from the bed stark naked and collecting his clothes from the floor. "Am I not allowed to have a little fun around here?" When he finally looked at Gareth, he sighed, "You look like horse shit."

Gareth ignored his comment and paced the floor, his hands gripping his waist almost painfully.

"I am going north."

"Did Alaina finally realise what an oaf you are?" Einar chuckled.

"Choose your words carefully, brother. I am on a thin thread," cautioned Gareth through gritted teeth. Upon seeing the seriousness of the matter, Einar's face straightened, and he placed his hand on Gareth's shoulder.

"What happened?"

"I need to gather the northern tribes. Alaina predicted that war would come."

"We have already planned for that. Why the sudden haste in summoning them now?"

"It is foolish of us to sit around and wait for a war to find us. We must be prepared for what is coming. Dunkeld must be our stronghold, and we must gather all the tribes here and prepare for an attack." Gareth's tone was emotionless. He had known Gareth long enough to know that the look on his face was him trying to control the rabid animal within.

"What happened, Gareth?"

"It does not matter."

"Of course, it matters!" Einar threw his hands up in the air. "Look at you!" he motioned to Gareth's state.

"Did you tell her about the past you shared?"

"It does not matter now! She does not trust our plan will work. She has decided to marry the prince," Gareth yelled and slapped Einar's arm away from his shoulder. "I am going north; we will be ready when the attack comes. We need to summon the knights of Dunkeld to support their duchess in the meantime."

"Then let me ride with you, brother."

"No, you will stay here and protect Alaina at all costs. You are to bring her to Gallaghan's tribe if an attack comes in my absence. She will be safe there."

"So you want me to babysit your ex-lover?" Einar snorted.

"Einar…" Gareth's voice was a warning. 

Einar ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "When are you leaving?"

"Tonight. Now," Gareth said as he was about to leave the room.

"Can you not wait until dawn, brother?". But Einar received no response. "Did you tell her where you are going?"

"She does not need to know."

"Gareth!" Einar yelled at him, shocking him out of his thoughts.

"She does not think we can win against the King's army. I need to prove her wrong. She tried to make it seem like her choice to marry the prince. The damned woman, she's trying to be selfless and would rather put her own life at risk instead of trusting in me."

"Do what you need to do. I will protect her." Einar gripped Gareth's arms to bid their farewells.

With a final slam of the door, Gareth vanished into the night, leaving only the echoes of his wrathful footsteps in his wake. Einar could only listen as they faded into the distance, the storm of emotion swirling around him like an unseen tempest. 

He released a heavy, world-weary sigh, allowing the weight of his body to collapse onto the bed. As he did so, his palm found his forehead, where he could feel the pulsating beginnings of a headache threatening to engulf him.

Questions swirled like a whirlpool in his mind, the tangled strands of curiosity weaving a web of uncertainty. What could have happened between Gareth and Alaina to evoke such a reaction? But these mysteries would have to remain unknown until the light of day returned, and he could seek answers from Alaina herself. For now, the embrace of sleep beckoned him, a brief respite from the storm that brewed within the castle walls.

As dawn's first light broke across the horizon, the world seemed to mirror Alaina's sorrow. The rain had fallen throughout the night, and the morning wept with a relentless downpour as if the heavens themselves mourned her pain. Alaina awoke with a shuddering gasp, the chill in her chest gnawing at her like a winter's frost. Her body, weary and aching from the night prior, resisted her every attempt to move.

A soft knock echoed through the room, heralding the arrival of her faithful servant, Zora. The door creaked open as Zora entered, bearing a wash basin filled with steaming water. The warm, inviting scent of the water mingled with the petrichor outside, a small comfort amid the storm that raged within Alaina's shivering body.

"Good morning, my la-. Good heavens!" she exclaimed and ran to Alaina, still curled up, shivering on the floor. 

Upon seeing Alaina's lips, tinged a ghostly blue, Zora hastened to her side, enfolding her in the quilt as if to shield her from cold's merciless grasp. As Alaina's teeth chattered violently from the cold, it became apparent that the fire had died out sometime during the night, allowing the chill to seep into the room like a frozen mist.

With haste born of concern, Zora fetched firewood from the basket beside the mantel, kindling a new blaze to dispel the frigid air. She drew Alaina close, her hands rubbing warmth into the young woman's trembling form. Alaina's hair, damp and cold, clung to her face like icicles. Zora took the wash basin, filled with steaming water, and dipped a washcloth into its depths. She gently warmed Alaina's neck, coaxing life back into her pallid complexion until the blue of her lips faded to a delicate pink.

Zora swiftly removed Alaina's thin nightdress and replaced it with a thick, woolen tunic, her gaze lingering on the emptiness in Alaina's once-vibrant green eyes. "I am going to fetch you some hot soup. Please wait here by the fire, my lady," she whispered before hurrying from the room.

Alaina sat before the flickering flames; their energetic dance of red, orange, and yellow was hypnotic. She held her trembling fingers out to the fire, embracing the offered warmth.

Moments later, Zora returned with a steaming, hearty beef stew. She carefully fed Alaina, who took small, tentative bites. The heat of the stew seared her tongue, but it paled compared to the agony that consumed her heart. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be cared for by her devoted servant, as the memory of Gareth's frosty gaze haunted her thoughts.

Leave me! 

She heard his voice echo around her. 

Do you not want me, Alaina? 

She closed her eyes tighter, shaking her head, trying desperately to remove him from her thoughts. The sound of Zora's concerned voice jolted her back to reality.

"My lady?" she asked, her voice full of worry. Alaina turned her gaze away from the dancing flames and looked at her. Her eyelids hung so heavily that keeping them open was almost too difficult. Zora pondered whether she should ask Alaina what had happened but decided against it.

"Let me help you to bed". Zora picked Alaina up under her arms and tried to hoist her up. But Alaina's weak legs refused to handle her weight. 

"I am going to call for Gareth. Please stay here." Zora's words were urgent as she dashed from the room, leaving Alaina to wrestle with her thoughts.

No, not Gareth. Not when I'm like this… He wouldn't come for me after what I said to him last night, would he? No, I can't see him. If I see him, I will take back everything I said last night and…

Minutes later, Zora returned, accompanied not by Gareth but by Einar.

I knew he wouldn't come and see me, so he's sent Einar… He has given up on me. He does not want me anymore. I can't blame him, can I?

Upon witnessing Alaina's fragile state, Einar cursed softly under his breath, shaking his head in dismay. With gentle strength, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her as tenderly as a newborn babe. He laid her on the bed while Zora tucked the quilt snugly around her. The loyal servant retrieved an additional woolen blanket from a storage chest, draping it over Alaina for warmth.

"I will call the castle physician," Zora declared, meeting Einar's gaze. He nodded in agreement, and she departed from the room.

Left alone with Alaina, Einar settled himself beside her on the bed. She tried to shrink away, fear gripping her heart, but her weakened body refused to obey.

"Stay still," Einar commanded gruffly. With eyes closed, Alaina braced herself, expecting him to exploit her vulnerability in the absence of Gareth's protection. However, Einar merely sat by her side, observing her keenly. His expression softened after a few moments, and he rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"I should have known something was amiss when Gareth left last night," he mused somberly.

He left? Where did he go?

She tried to voice her question, but her lips refused to form the words. Seemingly attuned to her thoughts, Einar answered, "He went North. He didn't say much, but it seemed urgent." He scrutinised her face, recognising her confusion. "He prepared for this, you know? He prepares for everything. We will be ready when the King's knights come to reclaim what is theirs." A faint smile graced his lips. Alaina's mind raced with questions: What did he mean? Were they already preparing for war?

"I do not…want…a war…" Alaina said weakly. Her voice sounded unrecognisable, even to her.

"Our customs are quite different from yours", he explained. "We, barbarians, as you call us, do not wed for politics. When we wed, it is for love; it is forever". 

Einar got up from the bed to collect her bowl of unfinished stew from the floor. 

"Although he has not wed you yet, he has claimed you as his. When you belong to him, you belong to us, Alaina." He took a spoonful of the stew and pushed it into her mouth. When Alaina swallowed, he continued, "It is in our code to protect what is ours, no matter the cost," Einar intoned solemnly. Panic flared across Alaina's features; his words implied that war was inevitable, regardless of her desperate pleas the night before.She never truly meant the harsh words that Gareth was forced to endure.

"I do not… want him to… get hurt."

"He won't. The King's army might outnumber us, but we overpower them with our strength."

"He is… making a mistake…"

"He has no choice now that he has chosen you." Einar almost chuckled. "He knew that the prince would not back down without a fight. But you were right in whatever you told him last night." Einar offered her another spoonful of stew. Though its taste was savoury, the meal scraped down her raw and aching throat like sand. Did Einar know the contents of her conversation with Gareth? Did he know she had told Gareth she wished to marry the prince? Alaina coughed, spattering soup across her chin. Einar dabbed at the mess with the damp washcloth, sighing in exasperation.

"Thank you."

Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she considered the care he had shown her. As Einar prepared to continue his explanation, the door opened, and Zora entered with the physician in tow.

"I will come and see you later. Please rest well, or else Gareth will have my head." Einar stood, placed the bowl on the bedside table, and departed from the room. Alaina's thoughts raced chaotically, rendering her unable to respond to the physician's inquiries. The healer turned to Zora, leaving her with instructions and a bottle of herbal tonic. Once he had gone, Alaina grasped Zora's hand.

"Please summon Einar to my chambers… we have not yet finished our conversation."

"Right away, my lady", she nodded and left the room, leaving Alaina alone with her thoughts. 

Slowly, she understood what Einar was trying to tell her. But why did Gareth ask her to leave if that were the case? Why couldn't he explain like how Einar was explaining to her? She tried to fight her heavy eyelids from closing, but fatigue wore into her. Gradually, she drifted to sleep, not even realising that Einar had indeed returned to visit her.

Alaina stirred from her slumber. Shadows danced upon the walls, their movements dictated by the flickering flames of the hearty fire Zora had built. The servant had ensured the fire would not wane, safeguarding her lady from the cruel chill that had invaded the room previously. Alaina's gaze fell upon the side table, a hopeful glance seeking the remnants of her stew. The table, however, was devoid of any trace of her meal.

Instead, she discovered a rolled-up parchment secured with the distinctive Dunkeld seal. With a weary groan, she reached for the missive, her aching bones protesting her movement. Carefully prying the wax seal away, she unfurled the parchment to reveal the familiar script of her father's hand.

My dearest Alaina,

I have arrived at Hann Aisle safely. Unfortunately, the discussion did not go to plan. The King has not taken kindly to our proposal. The prince is livid, and whispers speak of him rallying an army. It is unknown if the King knows his son's actions. Gather the men that we have to support the northerners. This is the only way that Dunkeld can prosper. The King has refrained me from returning to you. Please warn Gareth and burn this message once you read it.

-R

Panic washed over Alaina like a flood. Fear crept into her heart, gripping and lashing it around like an unwanted rag doll. She had to warn Gareth immediately.

"Zora!" Alaina yelled as loud as her lungs could muster. Within seconds, her loyal servant ran into her room.

"Yes, my lady?" she huffed. Her chest heaved in distress.

"Summon Einar immediately". 

Zora ran out of the room; moments later, Einar appeared at her door.

"I hope you have re-"

"Come here, quickly", Alaina interjected. Einar hurried over next to her. She held out the parchment to him. He frowned, his thick, dirty blonde brows furrowed angrily. Grunting, he started to pace the space next to Alaina's bed.

"I do not think he would be successful in rallying all the kingdom's armies," he said after what seemed like an eternity. Einar haphazardly threw the parchment into the flames. It was quickly engulfed in the thick orange wisps of fire, disintegrating into nothing more than grey ash. He returned to Alaina's side and gently touched her foot; it was a friendly touch of assurance. Alaina realised that she no longer feared him as she once did.

"You must not worry, Alaina, trust us. And if you don't trust us, then trust in Gareth", he smiled. His warm and genuine smile made her feel slightly at ease. "Let me send a messenger to Gareth. I will return soon". His warm smile helped to ease Alaina's troubled mind, but it did not erase her fear. As he left, Zora returned together with another servant. They brought a wash basin and hot oatmeal porridge topped with dried cranberries and honey. As Alaina motioned to get up from bed, Zora stopped her.

"Let us help you, my lady," Zora offered, her smile warm and gentle. The servants ignored Alaina's protests as they dutifully attended to her needs. They washed her weary body and changed her clothes while ensuring her comfort. Zora scrutinised Alaina's face, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. A satisfied nod indicated her approval of Alaina's returned normal body temperature. Her servants fed her, and after her meal, Zora administered a spoonful of the bitter tonic. The invigorating effect was instantaneous, prompting Alaina to plead for permission to leave her bed. Zora reluctantly agreed, furrowing her brow as she instructed her to return by nightfall. It was unusual for a noble to heed a servant's commands, but Alaina understood that Zora's intentions were rooted in genuine concern for her well-being.

Before departing her chamber, Alaina's gaze was drawn to the vase of wildflowers still perched on the windowsill. The blossoms had begun to wilt, their leaves browning at the edges and the delicate petals disintegrating beneath her touch. In their struggle for survival, Alaina found a reflection of her precarious state. Despite Einar's assurances that Gareth had claimed her as his own, she harboured doubts that he would desire further connection after her harsh words.

I do not want you! 

The memory crashed over her like a relentless wave, threatening to drown her in regret. Gareth's frosty stare and rigid body tension haunted her thoughts, causing her to recoil from the recollection. Blinking back tears, she left her room. Her father had instructed her to rally their forces, and she was determined to carry out his command.

Descending the staircase, Alaina glimpsed a gathering of northern men engaged in animated discussion. Their voices blended into a symphony of their native tongue, a language foreign and fascinating to her ears. Einar stood at the centre of the conversation, issuing instructions to the burly men as they donned their armour in preparation for their journey back north. Alaina observed that they had no carriages, instead opting to pack large leather satchels with their essentials.

Upon catching sight of her, Einar gestured for her to join them. Alaina approached the group with trepidation, acutely aware of their towering stature and impressive strength. She recognised two of the men from her visit to the training barracks.

The northern men emanated an aura of raw power and resilience, their bodies sculpted by years of rigorous training and hardened by the harsh climate of their homeland. Their eyes held a fierce determination, and their expressions were etched with the wisdom earned from countless battles. Even standing still, they seemed like a force of nature, their presence commanding respect and awe in equal measure.

"These are the messengers I am sending to give the word to Gareth," said Einar, gesturing to the men. They nodded their heads at her, and she smiled meekly in return. 

"It will take them approximately four days to reach Gareth. They will ride swiftly, only stopping when their horses need rest," he explained. It surprised Alaina how fast they could reach Gareth, but she was glad they would make haste. They left after excusing themselves, walking towards their awaiting horses quickly.

Einar turned to Alaina and inspected her face. He checked if she looked well enough to be out of bed.

"I am quite tired of everyone fussing over me, Einar," Alaina said with a hint of annoyance, swatting him away. 

"I am more worried if Gareth finds out what happened to you," he laughed.

"Einar, what if I agreed to marry the prince? He would retract his words, and there wouldn't be a war." 

"You will do no such thing!" Einar exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

"No, listen. Everything started because of me. Because I wanted to decline the prince's proposal and marry Gareth. This would anger him. If I return to Hann Aisle and marry him instead, it would stop all this. There would be no war. You and your men can travel North and forget I ever existed."

Gareth can forget I ever existed.

Einar burst out laughing, holding his belly and slapping his thigh.

"Do you honestly think Gareth would allow that?" he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Well, he is not here to stop me, is he?" she replied defiantly.

"My dear Alaina, it does not matter where you are or who you are wed to, Gareth will take us to war even if it means barraging into Hann Aisle. In fact, bringing the war to us would be better for us than waltzing into Hann Aisle. By the time the army of any region comes north, they will be too exhausted and at the biggest disadvantage fighting in the cold."

Alaina stood dumbfounded; Einar was right. Dunkeld was one of the closest regions to the North other than Helum. But as she recalled, Helum had lacked human resources due to their expedition. They also did not seem interested in being involved in this war. As for the other Western regions, none of them were used to the cold. And venturing into a climate that did not favour them was foolish at best. So, Gareth did indeed have a plan. He knew all along that war was coming. He had predicted that this would never be a peaceful marriage between them, and yet he strived for it.

"Why me, Einar?" she said quietly, looking at her feet. "Why go through all this trouble for me?'

Einar's eyes shimmered with empathy as he beckoned Alaina to follow him to the council room. Her footsteps echoed softly through the stone corridors as she trailed closely behind him. Einar opened the heavy, ornately carved door, revealing an empty chamber filled with antique tapestries illuminated by flickering torchlight. He courteously pulled out a wooden chair, its surface worn smooth with age, for her to sit while he leaned against the massive oak table, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest.

As Alaina seated herself, her attentive gaze locked on Einar, she listened intently to the tale that would unfold. The creed of the northern men was one of simplicity and depth, rooted in the unwavering values of family and loyalty. When Gareth first laid eyes on Alaina, her beauty and grace captivating him like a siren's song, it was as if an enigmatic connection had been forged between their souls. Yet, he sought to ensure Alaina reciprocated his feelings, determined not to force his desires upon her. He would have relinquished his mission without hesitation if Alaina had objected to their union or if her heart belonged to the prince.

Once Alaina consented to the marriage, a profound transformation occurred, and she became an integral part of their tightly-knit community. She was embraced as one of their own, a precious soul to safeguard at any cost. Though Einar could not fathom Gareth's fascination with her, his unwavering loyalty meant he would never question his leader's intentions. Gareth had dedicated countless years to ascending the ranks, ultimately becoming the esteemed leader he is today. Unlike the rest of the kingdom, leadership was not a birthright. One had to prove their worth and earn their place, which was what Gareth had spent years doing. He had earned the respect not only of his tribe but of all eighteen tribes across the vast northern region. Contrary to popular belief, the North beheld an army comparable to the armies of all the regions in the kingdom. Einar was certain they would rally behind Gareth, regardless of how ill-advised the cause might appear. They were more than just a tribe; they were a formidable brotherhood that had grown stronger over the years, forging bonds unbreakable by any force.

Now, they stood at the precipice of war, a looming storm that could erupt at any moment. Gareth had journeyed North to enlist the support of the other tribes, uniting them in the impending conflict. This had always been part of his grand design as he foresaw the prince's defiance. Yet, nothing would deter him from being with Alaina, not even the combined might of the five kingdoms.

"I don't know what he sees in you," Einar chuckled, his laughter warm and hearty as it filled the council room. "Heaven knows I've tried to introduce him to other women," he continued, causing Alaina to grimace. "But what's done is done, and we will stand by him until the end." His warm smile spread across his rugged face as he looked at Alaina. Though his explanation had been brief, she gleaned much from his words. Her heart still ached at the thought of a war waged for her sake, but she felt powerless to prevent it. At this moment, she understood the gravity of the choices and the path ahead of them.

"I rejected him…I told him I did not want him," she cried, holding her face in her hands. "I thought he would change his mind. I do not want a war!"

"I know," he replied softly, holding her shoulder. "It is what it is. Gareth will have you. When he sets his mind on something, he does not stop until it is in his grasp."

"I rejected him!" she felt her sobs quake through her body. "I told him I changed my mind! Why is he still doing this?"

"I believe you spoke in haste. I am certain Gareth understands that as well. What you two share transcends the limitations of your native tongue. In our language, we refer to it as ig ve'lac an ig puy'lac an ig mor'lac esh um." his voice became a soothing whisper, as calming as the gentle rustle of leaves in a spring breeze. "It roughly translates to 'in this life, the next, and all lives to come.'"

His hand tenderly swept across her back, a fatherly gesture of reassurance. Did Gareth truly comprehend that she hadn't meant those harsh words? The image of his wounded expression lingered in her mind like a spectre, refusing to fade.

"What if he no longer desires me?" she queried, her voice barely a whisper against the weight of her fear.

"The heavens would sooner shower us with gold than that happening. Have you not absorbed a single word I've spoken?" Einar responded, the mild irritation evident in his tone.

"When will he return?" Her voice faltered, a vulnerable tremor reflecting her inner turmoil.

"I cannot say. Yet, I am confident he will return, bolstered by the support of the eighteen tribes," Einar declared with an almost palpable conviction.

"I wish to go to him," she pleaded, her voice aching with longing. She yearned for his arms' secure embrace and retract her unfounded accusations. A sudden clarity dawned upon Alaina as though she had been resisting an inevitable destiny meant for them. She couldn't comprehend the origin of this potent bond nor how her feelings had grown so intense for him in such a brief period. It was a bewildering paradox, this sensation of having known him her entire life yet barely knowing him at all.

Did Gareth harbour the same sentiments? Why had it been so effortless for him to dismiss her? He hadn't fought to alter her decision; instead, he had permitted her to leave so abruptly, even commanding her so! If Einar's words held truth, he should have strived to sway her or at least attempted an explanation. As she wept, Einar continued gently soothing her, his hand rhythmically tracing comforting circles on her back. He must have perceived her as pitiful. Wiping away her tears with her hand, she rose to her feet, striving to project confidence.

"Your place is here. Those were his instructions," Einar asserted firmly, his fingertips exerting a warning pressure on her shoulder. "If you travel north, it would seem like we kidnapped you. The thought would not fare well amongst the people of Dunkeld nor the rest of the kingdom."

"I take orders from no one." Her voice was sharp enough to cut through steel. She stood and hit the table with a shaking fist. Einar assessed her, frowning at her adamance. She felt like a rebellious child. Embarrassed by her reckless outburst, she sat back down. She noticed Einar's face soften. She weighed Einar's words carefully in her head. He was right. The people of Dunkeld deserve to see a united front between her and Gareth. Her place was with her people and her duchy.

"If you want to help us, rally your men. They will listen to their duchess". 

"Where are they?" She remembered her father's instructions. He, too, had the same mission for her to complete.

"When we arrived, we drove them out of the castle grounds. We gave them a choice of either staying and fighting us or leaving the castle completely. While some of them did stay to fight, the majority of them chose to leave unharmed. The lack of your father's presence in his kingdom made them feel like he was an unworthy cause to fight for. Our men had to kill those who did stay and fight," Einar explained, sounding remorseful. "If you can convince them to take our side, their loyalty would be beneficial, and we would repay them for their service".

A storm of doubt swirled in Alaina's gaze, her emerald eyes clouded with uncertainty. How could she expect these hardy warriors, these Dunkeld knights she had never met, to pledge their loyalty to a Duchess who had been little more than a ghost in her own lands? She was a mere fleeting shadow to them, an absentee ruler who existed in name more than deed. Even her father, who had once held their respect and allegiance, had been abandoned by them, for he abandoned them first. What more could she possibly offer to rekindle their faith and loyalty? 

Einar studied her, his perceptive eyes capturing the silent turmoil on her expressive features. A warm, understanding smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the comforting crinkles in his weathered face reflecting a sense of reassurance. His hand rose, a gentle, paternal pat landing on her slender shoulder. The gesture was small, yet it carried a world of silent encouragement.

"They will fight for their duchess, Alaina. If you give them a cause to believe in, they will fight for it. They set up a farming village about an hour from the town centre. Take your horse. I would join you, but they might not take too fondly of me being there".

Einar was right. There was no way he could show his face to the very men that they cast out. She would have to do it alone. He turned around to the map of the kingdom on the council table.

"This is the castle," he said, pointing to the structure illustrated on the map. "This is where they have settled," he said, pointing to a small cluster of wooden pawns. "They have a hundred and fifty men in this village, with the others scattered around in other farming villages around here". He gestured to the wide open space on the map, which all belonged to Dunkeld. "If you win their support, they can offer an additional five hundred men, maybe even more, to fight for us. It would be a great help". 

He sounded sincere. Alaina knew that for him to admit they needed the help was a colossal feat. 

"I pray that they will listen," she said calmly. Alaina's task felt like a labyrinth of complexity, a challenge that seemed even more difficult than Gareth's mission to rally support from the northern tribes. She was to persuade an assembly of warriors to take arms alongside their enemies, the very adversary who had expelled them from their hearth and home. These men were strangers to her, their identities distilled down to faceless silhouettes, their names and titles swallowed by the abyss of her ignorance.

Neither Gareth, the charismatic leader, nor her father, the once revered lord, were present to shoulder this weighty responsibility. It fell to her alone. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms as if the physical sensation could distil courage into her veins. The fabric of her determination was woven from the threads of necessity - the realisation that there was no one else but her to undertake this daunting mission.