Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Four months.

Four months had passed since our quarrel, and I had yet to find the right opportunity to talk to the Fool.

I knew he was still angry with me, because he was still addressing me as Tom Badgerlock. In fact, I had not seen his Lord Golden persona slip once, not even when we ran into each other in the corridors of Buckkeep with no one else in sight. And even those incidental meetings were becoming increasingly rare, for since I had been assigned to the Queen’s guard, I had no more excuses to be near him or to wander in the nobles’ quarters.

I missed my friend terribly and I could not help but wonder if he felt the same way. I selfishly hoped that the disregard I saw in his eyes whenever our eyes met was just a facade, and that he too, suffered from the same feeling of agonizing loss that ate at my insides. 

In truth, the solution was simple. I should just apologise to him. The problem was that everytime I tried to picture the scene, my mind just froze. I just could not seem to find the right words. How could he possibly forgive me after what had transpired between us? What could I possibly say to account for my despicable behaviour? I had, admittedly, been under the influence of elfbark…

No. That was just an excuse, of course. I knew that the main cause for my outburst had been my fear of spreading rumours, a fear that had been ignited by Starling’s bitter comments and Jek's insinuations. I dreaded that if anyone thought that my relationship with Lord Golden was improper, it would damage my reputation, and that of Hap. Why had I cared so much about that? As a bastard, and Witted at that, I had grown accustomed to people looking at me with disgust. So why had I put my relationship with my best friend in jeopardy for the sake of a reputation that was already tarnished?

I longed to tell him that I wished I had kept my mouth shut. That I should have been glad to know that a creature such as the Fool could love me unconditionally, even if I could not love him back. Or rather, love him the way he wanted me to...

I would find the words, and I would win him back.

Chapter Text

I had finally managed to work out the perfect plan to mend things between us.

This morning, I was to meet with Dutiful and Thick in Verity's tower for a Skill lesson. Chade had decided to keep to his bed after yet another one of his explosive experiments had gone wrong, so we were one Skill user short for today's lesson. Since my classes basically consisted in duo exercises, I had managed to convince Dutiful that I needed a partner, and that the only person who could take on this role was Lord Golden. We had been Skill-linked ever since that day in the Mountains when the Fool had laid his silvered fingers upon my wrist. Years had passed since, and the markings had slightly faded from my skin, but I was still aware of the threads of Skill that bound us together. We had only skilled to each other a handful of times, almost always in dire situations, but I knew how powerful our joining could be. Maybe, I had told myself, I could convey through my Skill what I had not been able to say with words.

I climbed the set of stairs that separated Lord Golden's chambers from my new quarters amongst the guardsmen. My heart was hammering in my chest. It had been weeks since our last exchange of words, and even then, it had been just formal greetings between a nobleman and his former servant. I hesitated in front of the door, not at all sure what his reaction would be. I took a deep breath, and knocked.

No response.

I tried again, this time louder, until finally, I heard. ‘Yes, what is it?’

Lord Golden's voice sounded impatient. I was expecting him to at least open the door to see who was inquiring after him. But the entrance remained barred to me, so I was a bit baffled to have to shout through the thick oak panel. ‘Lord Golden, it's me. Tom Badgerlock. I have a message for you.’

Another silence.

‘Can it wait until this afternoon? I am rather busy at the moment.’

I wondered if that was just an excuse to get rid of me. But I was not going to give up that easily.

‘I am afraid it cannot, my Lord. It has to do with our Prince.’

I knew that mentioning Dutiful would force him to hear me out. I felt a bit ashamed to resort to trickery to get him to spend time with me, but I told myself that the Prince was indeed expecting him for the lesson. I heard him sigh.

‘Alright then, Badgerlock.’

After a good five minutes of waiting and a fair amount of foot stamping on my part, Lord Golden let me in. I took a few steps inside the room and closed the door behind me. I started to walk towards the set of armchairs that stood next to the fireside, but upon noticing my host’s frown, I decided not to push it and to stay where I was. I knew too well that invading the Fool’s personal space was not the best way to play this game.

He had made changes to the room. Or rather, it was obvious that he had no more servant to tidy up after him, because the room was in disarray. The curtains had not yet been opened for the day, the remnants of yesterday’s dinner still stood on the table and there were clothes scattered across the floor.

It was very unlike him. I knew that he was usually very organised, and liked to arrange things to his liking to feel at home wherever he was. It made me wonder if this mess was intentional, to maintain the pretence of the nobleman too full of himself to care about such things after having dismissed his only serving man. I also noticed that Lord Golden wasn't wearing any makeup, and was slightly dishevelled, which struck me as odd since he always seemed to be paying extra attention to his appearance when he was posing as the Jamaillian nobleman. Even so, I had to admit that he looked stunning, with his rich blue satin jacket that highlighted his golden curls and the red that showed on his cheeks. It occurred to me that I had not often seen the Fool blush, but that the colour it brought to his face made a lovely contrast with his amber eyes.

‘Well, what is it, Badgerlock? I don’t have all day.’

Even in the privacy of his chambers, the Fool still persisted in addressing me as Tom Badgerlock. It should have stung, but I had expected it.

‘I came to inform you that Chade is unable to perform his duties as a member of the Prince's coterie today. Since we must be at least four for our Skill lessons, Dutiful has asked for you to join us. We are to meet at the top of Verity's tower in an hour.’ I kept my tone formal, but I was always careful not to call him ‘my lord’. I desperately wanted things to get back to normal between us, and I had decided that dropping the whole Lord Golden/Tom Badgerlock sham was a step in the right direction.

‘Why do you need four people?’ he asked. He sounded skeptical.

‘Because we work in pairs. Usually, we do exercises where we try to convey a thought or a feeling to a partner by skilling to each other. This kind of training improves the student’s Skill control and the strength of their mental walls.’ That much was true, at least. I did not feel the need to tell him that there was no real need for me to practise my Skill this way. Verity had taught me how to set up my walls a long time ago.

He looked deep in thought and I saw him take a quick glance towards his bedchamber with something akin to longing in his eyes. I realised that he must have been asleep when I came to deliver my message. That could explain his unkempt appearance and his reluctance to go, because he would rather still be in his bed. But again, his hesitation could just as well have to do with the messenger rather than the message itself. Was the mere thought of being in the same room as me for a short period of time that distasteful to him that he would disobey a direct order from his Prince? I was starting to think that my plan was doomed to fail when I saw him slump his shoulders in a defeated gesture. He made yet another audible sigh as he relented.

‘I see. I’ll meet you there.’

Chapter Text

I was the first to arrive.

As I emerged from the hidden entrance that led to the tower, I shuddered against the chill air that came from the openings. I was immediately brought back to the days of my youth, when I would deliver Verity’s meals while the King-in-Waiting was keeping watch for the Red Ship Raiders. I was about his age now, but in retrospect, it did not feel as if I had grown up at all since those days. I had thought that my secluded life with Nighteyes in our cabin had brought me wisdom, but when I recalled some of my latest decisions, I was appalled by my own stupidity. A few months ago, I had missed my only chance at reconnecting with Burrich, a decision that had had much more to do with cowardice than with selflessness. On top of that, I kept reaching out to Nettle with my Skill, despite knowing that if she ever found out about her parentage, it would only bring her sorrow and confusion. And of course, there had been the quarrel I had prompted between me and my dearest friend. I knew our bond was badly damaged and I could only hope that my plan was going to work.

I was taken out of my musings by the arrival of Dutiful who, as usual, had come with Thick. Even with all that was going wrong around me, I could at least take pride in the friendship that had developed between the two boys.

‘Good morning, Fitz,’ said Dutiful cheerfully.

‘Good morning, my Prince,’ I answered.

‘Is Lord Golden going to come?’

He had just finished his sentence when we heard the door reopen. An impeccably attired Lord Golden emerged. He bowed graciously.

‘Good day, my Prince. Thick.’

Dutiful answered him with a pleasant smile and a nod but I noticed that Thick was looking at him with suspicion. The fact that he was still wary of the people outside of the safe circle of our coterie made me realise just how far the young man had come since the days when he could not help but attack whoever got near him.

I realised that all three of my students were looking at me.

‘Well, since we are all here, I suggest we don’t waste time and start right away,’ I stated. ‘We’re going to continue working in pairs. Like last time, we will be telling our partner two statements. One will be the truth and the other one will be a lie. The goal is for your partner to find which is which, using the Skill only. Are we all clear?’

I saw that Lord Golden was frowning.

‘I don’t understand how you can tell the difference by skilling,’ he said in a wary tone.

‘You can because your partner will have to leave his mind open,’ I explained. ‘And since only I have a Skill link with you through your fingerprints on my wrist, we will have to pair up.’

I saw him pinch his lips and hesitate before he gave me his assent with a curt nod. I signaled for him to follow me to the other end of the tower, where a pair of chairs stood.

‘Alright, you start then. What are your statements?’ he asked as soon as we got seated.

‘Oh, alright then.’ I was startled to hear him initiate the conversation between us. I had not expected him to talk to me more than was necessary. ‘Let’s see… My first statement is that my favourite place to be in Buckkeep Castle is the stables. My second statement is that my favourite scent is honeysuckle.’ I had already used these with Chade, who had not managed to find out which one was the lie.

I presented my bare, upturned wrist to him but he made no move towards it.

‘The first one is the lie,’ he declared almost immediately.

‘How-' I frowned. ‘I thought we needed a physical touch to skill to each other-’

‘And apparently, we still do. I just happen to know the answer. It was not much of a challenge, really.’

I was astonished. This was an information that no one else was privy to.

‘But… How?’

He sighed and raised his gaze to meet mine. ‘I just know that in your mind, you associate the stables with the loss of Nosy, and Smithy. Your favourite place to be in Buckkeep Castle must be somewhere that is not directly associated with bad memories. Maybe the gathering hall- no you killed Justin and Serene there and that's what got you sent to the dungeons. Let's see then, your old bedchamber? No, you always found the room too big and cold for you alone. The kitchen, then? But you were not always welcome there... There must be... Oh.’ He paused and I could see the shadow of his old mischievous smile curl at the corner of his lips. My heart lifted at that sight. ‘You know that apart from Chade, you're the only one to call this place Verity's tower? To everyone else, it’s just the Seawatch tower. I would say that this is your favourite place, where you used to meet with your uncle, the only member of your family who ever seemed to truly cherish you for who you were, and not for your capacity to be used as a tool for the crown, a tool that you can discard as soon as it gets damaged. So that's my answer, and I did not even need the Skill to get it right, did I?’ He sounded so much like my young Fool that I could not find it in me to take offence at his condescending tone that made it seem like he was explaining something to a very small child.

I smiled. ‘Well then, I’d better find something worth your while for the next time. It's your turn.’ I looked at him expectedly.

‘Alright. My first statement is that my favourite colour is blue. My second statement is that my favourite animal is the rat.’

I knew the answer, I did not even have to think about it. The Fool had told me about the little white cat he had had as a child, back during our peaceful days in my cabin. My heart clenched at the memories of how close we had been then. Should I tell him that I knew the truth? But I suspected that he was well aware that I knew, and that he had made it easy for me on purpose. But why was he not willing to play along?

I decided to play dumb. ‘Alright, let’s do this.’ I offered my upturned wrist to him.

I saw his eyebrows raise in alarm. So he had expected me to tell him I knew. Reluctantly, he laid his silvered fingers on their matching prints. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the connection and the inevitable feeling of overwhelming completeness that always came with our joining... But nothing happened. I opened my eyes and stared at him in shock. He held my gaze squarely and did not seem at all fazed by what was, or rather was not, happening. I closed my eyes again, trying to find the link that had always flown so effortlessly between us. At last, I sensed something, the smallest tingling of a Skill thread, but as soon as I moved towards it, I heard the Fool take a sharp intake of breath and the link was gone.

So this was deliberate. He did not want to share awareness with me.

I wondered when he had learned to build such strong defenses. More importantly, I wondered why he so fiercely wished to keep me out of reach of his mind. Was it only out of spite, after our falling-out? No. In the few seconds during which I had been aware of him, I had not felt anger. Fear, I realised. Fear was the feeling I had felt emanating from him before he hastily put up his defenses again. But what was he afraid of? Was he fearing that I would ransack his mind, and go after his secrets, much in the same way Regal had done back in the Mountains? But he had never been so careful with me before, so why now? Was there something that he wished to hide from me at all costs, something that he could not risk me knowing?

‘Well?’

I opened my eyes and saw a very unimpressed Lord Golden staring at me with his eyebrows raised questioningly.

‘Well what?’ I spat. Bitterness had crept through my voice unwillingly, but he did not flinch.

‘I thought the purpose of this exercise was for you to find out which of my statements was a lie,’ he answered casually.

I was having trouble containing my anger. I thought that we had been on the verge of reaching some kind of understanding when he had let me catch a glimpse of his old persona, but I had been mistaken. If he would not allow me into his mind, my plan was doomed to fail.

‘Well, I cannot very well succeed if my Skill partner won’t grant me access to the tiniest part of his mind, can I?’

He held his silence.

‘Anyway Fool, I know your favourite animal is the cat, you told me so only a few months ago. Why won't you play along?’ Without meaning to, I had raised my voice and I saw the Fool take a step backwards. It was wrong. I did not want him to be afraid of me.

‘Please, I-’

‘Fitz, we are done for today I think,’ Dutiful stated in a tone that indicated that he would not tolerate disobedience. I realised that he was now standing by us. I had not even heard him come closer.

I was thankful for the distraction, but as soon as I turned aside to give him an answer, I heard the door of the tower slam loudly. Lord Golden had fled.

Stunned, I took my leave from my two remaining students and went back to the secret passageways, heading straight towards his chambers.

I was sick of this cat-and-mouse game. I was going to confront him.

Chapter Text

As I rushed through the cobwebbed corridors, I tried to think about how I would handle this. First, I had to calm down. The Fool may have had a very good reason for blocking me out during our Skill session and I would definitely not win him back by shouting at him like I had just done. First and foremost, I needed to apologise, Skill or no Skill. That had been the plan from the start and I just needed to stick to it. Surely he would at least listen to what I had to say.

I chose to get out of the tunnels through the exit that led to a servant room that had remained vacant for years because of the broken blinds that did nothing to keep the cold out. It was located on the floor above the nobles’ quarters where Lord Golden had his chambers. As I reached his door, I made sure to dust off my guardsman uniform. Once I was satisfied with the way I looked, I knocked on his door and waited, but nobody answered. Maybe he had been delayed by something on his way from Verity’s tower.

Or maybe, he was still avoiding me.

I knocked again, and this time, I was almost certain that I heard footsteps in the room. But again, my mind could have been playing tricks on me. I did not want to make a fool of myself by shouting or by just standing there waiting for him. I needed to see for myself.

I had always suspected that Lord Golden’s chambers were vulnerable to the secret passageways and their numerous peepholes. I went back to the labyrinths and indeed, it did not take long for me to find the spot I was looking for. As I sat on the cold hard floor, I tried to convince myself that I was not about to spy on my friend. I just wanted to see for myself if he was here or not. If he was not, I would wait for his arrival and then I would talk to him. And if he was indeed avoiding me… Well that much would at least be clear in my mind.

I realised that the hole in the wall was in fact right above the door that led to the servant chamber Tom Badgerlock had occupied, so I had a good view on the whole room. On the far end of the room stood the fireside where Lord Golden would sit by every night to read his scrolls. To the left, I could see the door to his bedchamber that remained, as usual, perpetually closed.

It was not long before I heard the key in the lock and saw a concerned looking Lord Golden enter the room. He immediately latched the door behind him. So I had my answer, he had not been avoiding me after all. I was about to go when I heard the sound of another door opening. Before I could realise that Lord Golden’s bedchamber had just been opened from the inside, I saw a man burst out of the room and rush towards my friend. Panic seized me and I reached for the dagger I always kept in my boots but as I raised my head to check what was happening, I was struck dumb by what I saw.

The man had enfolded Lord Golden into an embrace.

‘Well Lian, if that is how you greet me after I am gone for not even an hour, I should leave you more often,’ Lord Golden said in a cheery tone as he reciprocated the embrace.

‘You're evil,’ the man answered playfully.

I was not at all prepared for what he did next.

The man cupped Lord Golden’s face with his hand and snaked his other arm around his slim waist. In a quick motion, he pulled my friend’s body towards his and kissed him.

I had to remind myself to breathe, because it felt as if my lungs were being crushed by a boulder.

I saw Lord Golden tilt his head to deepen the kiss while his partner was threading his fingers through his golden locks. Lord Golden’s graceful hands gripped the fabric of the other man’s shirt more firmly.

I suddenly became aware of a pain in my right arm, and I realised that I was clenching my fists so hard that my nails were digging through my flesh. I felt dizzy and my breathing was still laboured. I could not comprehend my physical reaction. What was happening with me?

The man had lifted Lord Golden in his arms and, without breaking their kiss, gently sat him in the armchair by the fireside. Straddling his partner, he started to press small kisses to the side of his jaw, while struggling to unbutton his own shirt. Lord Golden grabbed his wrists, stopping the motion.

‘Lian, we have to stop, or else I won’t be able to attend the lunch I have scheduled with the duke of Tilth.’

I was almost not able to tell who had spoken. That voice was not Lord Golden’s, let alone the Fool’s. Its inflection was soft, and there were even traces of a slight southern accent that I could not pinpoint but that was definitely not Jamaillian.

‘Please, Beloved. I have been waiting for you all morning.’

The longing I heard in the man’s tone made me sick to my stomach. So that voice was Beloved’s. I was shocked that my friend had revealed so much of himself to a stranger. But was he, truly, a stranger to him? Obviously they were very well acquainted, I thought bitterly. But we were too, and in all our years together, he had never let me catch so much of a glimpse of his real self. How long did it take for the Fool to tell me his real name? 25 years?

The man had apparently managed to convince Lord Golden that his social meeting could wait a bit longer, because they had both stood up, and were making their way towards the bedroom. They slammed the door shut. There was little doubt in my mind as to what they were planning on doing in there.

I knew that I was supposed to feel disgusted, maybe even affronted by my friend’s behaviour and choice of companion. What I had just witnessed went against everything I knew and stood for, against the way I was brought up and my own understanding of romance.

But the truth was that I felt hurt beyond words, as if my very soul had been sucked from my body.

I cannot say how long I remained motionless, my head bent and my arms encircling my legs as if to protect me from the wild thoughts that were raging in my mind. All I know is that amongst those thoughts, there was one that screamed the loudest. One that cut me deeper than any other did.

It could have been me.

Chapter Text

The weeks that followed seemed to pass in a sort of daze. What I had come to understand during my little spying session seemed to have shaken the very ground on which I stood, the very core of all I had believed to be true about myself.

My feelings for the Fool were of romantic nature.

It was as if I had been forced to open my eyes and been blinded in the process. I wished I had never known, but the pain I had felt upon seeing him in somebody else’s arms had been too great for me to continue lying to myself. Somehow, at some point during our friendship, I had fallen in love with him.

It left me to wonder how I could have overlooked that fact for so long. I thought back on all the nights we had spent next to each other, all the affectionate gestures, the warm feelings that never failed to overwhelm me whenever we were in the same room. There was even a physical attraction on my part, that much was clear. I had mistaken it for mere admiration but my musings about Lord Golden’s attractiveness, I now saw in a whole new light.

But what good did it do that I had come to realise that now that he was lost to me so completely?

Not only had we stopped talking to each other since our falling-out, but he had found a replacement for me. And fairly quickly at that.

The thought sent a sudden surge of anger through me but it died down almost as quickly as it had appeared.

I could not find it in me to be angry with him. I had trampled on his feelings during our quarrel, unaware of the damage to our relationship. I winced as I recalled how I had gone so far as to mock him for having believed that the flowers had come from me.

Idiot.

Of course, he had had no reason to believe that his love for me had been anything but unrequited. It was my fault. I had been too stupid, too narrow-minded to see that what I had always wanted had been right in front of me all along. Time and time again, I could have accepted his love. But it was too late now, and Beloved had already offered it to somebody else.

Bile rose in my throat at the thought of that other man’s hands touching my Fool. I was used to the pain now, and I had learned to control it in some way. I knew that if I took slow, deep breaths, I could stop the tears from falling. 

This was even worse than learning about Molly and Burrich. Not because I had not loved Molly, but because, like Kettle had tried to tell me, I realised now that my feelings for her had been somehow childish and unstable. At the time, I had concealed almost everything of my true self from her. She had never known about the dark deeds I did for the Farseer crown nor about my Wit. Whereas the Fool had been someone I had always trusted completely. Apart from my wolf, he was the one person who knew me best, who was aware of my flaws and to whom I had confided my most shameful thoughts. Because I knew that he did not think less of me because of them.

I had always taken for granted his unconditional love for me. That and Nighteyes’ wisdom had been the two things I had always been relying on.

Now Nighteyes was gone, and I had driven my Fool away. It felt like I had lost my whole world.

Chapter Text

I was trying to stick to a tight schedule to keep my mood from spiralling down.

I would get up in the early morning, eat my breakfast in the gathering hall, check on Myblack in the stables and train for a few hours with my fellow guardsmen. I had taken up the habit of spending my afternoons in Buckkeep Town. The craftspersons of the keep were always on the look-out for someone willing to run errands for them there, and I was more than happy to take advantage of every opportunity I could find to get away from the castle.

I always tried to spare a moment of my time to go and see Hap. My boy was still pining after Svanja, and I was doing my best to comfort him, despite being aware of how ironic it was for me to try and act as his adviser when it came to his love life, considering the state of my own.

The thought of paying a visit to Jinna had occasionally crossed my mind, but now that I was aware of my feelings for the Fool, he was the only person I could manage to think of that way. He had also been right about my relationship with the hedgewitch. I had been taking advantage of her being available to me, and it was not fair to either of us.

Occasionally, I gave Skill lessons to the Prince, Thick and Chade. I knew that at least Dutiful and my old mentor had noticed that something was wrong with me but they were either not interested enough or too busy to take the time to ask me about it. It was just as well.

Never again did I try to invite Lord Golden to our lessons. There was no doubt in my mind that the reason why he had evaded me before was because he did not want me to know about his new relationship.

Before I knew it, two more months had passed without a single word exchanged between me and the Fool. My plan to apologise seemed very far away now.

Yet, it did not mean that I never saw him. The Jamaillian nobleman was indeed as popular as ever at court, attending every dinner and social gathering.

I could not stop thinking about what I had seen through that peephole. The mental picture of my friend embracing that other man was seared into my brain and it burned me everytime I managed to catch a glimpse of Lord Golden. I knew better than to avoid him though. I had tried that for a time, and it had not gone well. I had come to realise that no matter how painful it was for me to be constantly reminded of his liaison, it still was better than being away from him. I needed the Fool in my life like I needed warmth, or water.

Almost without realising it, I was also trying to learn more about the man whom I had begun to think of as my rival.

Through gossips and eavesdroppings, I found out that he was Lord Lian Willow, a young aristocrat originally from Shoaks who had been living in Jamaillia for the past five years or so. There, I heard that he had made a fortune thanks to his gift for glass trade. The phial which contained the very perfume that had been offered to Kettricken by the Bingtown delegation originated from his workshops.

He had arrived at the same time as Jek and the others, but had apparently delayed his return. I could only guess why he had.

As a guard, I was often on duty in the Great Hall, and I sometimes had to accompany the Prince and a few selected nobles on their morning rides. Lord Golden and Lord Willow were often invited to these outings. I watched them closely during those rare occasions, and I realised that, had I never spied on them, I would never have known that there were more to their relationship than met the eyes.

Lord Golden was as much his usual flirty self with him as he was with every other nobleman and woman. They sometimes sat side by side for dinner parties during which they conversed amicably, but they never gave away any sign of further intimacy.

I also took up the shameful habit of trying to catch a glimpse of the Fool every time I wandered through the secret corridors by spying through the peephole. I found Lord Golden’s chambers empty more often than not, but the truth was that I did not even know what I was looking for. Maybe catching a gesture, a word, that could assure me that the Fool was still in there somewhere, hidden below layers of silk fabric and rich cosmetics. Possibly witnessing the two lovers argue, and having my distress put to rest by the knowledge of their falling-out. Or maybe, I was looking for the tiniest clue that could indicate that my friend was also missing me. But nothing had come of it.

I had been mulling over these dark thoughts the whole day, and found myself in no mood for a hearty chat with the other guards. As I was hurriedly making my way towards the kitchen to grab a bowl of steaming broth, I bumped hard into the figure that suddenly emerged from the stairs on my right. The man was carrying a large tray filled with food and I was not quick enough to catch the toppling wine glass, that fell and shattered on the ground.

I apologised profusely for my lack of caution as I knelt to collect the shards. I had thankfully been carrying a towel, which allowed me to wipe the wine off the man’s shoes. I realised then that these were far too sophisticated to belong to a servant. My fellow was a noble, and I had just ruined his shoes.

Cursing my luck, I figured that if he was a petty man, he could very well try to have me removed from my position. I felt the urge to check his identity, but as a servant, I knew that I had to keep my gaze lowered and my head bent when I was confronted with a member of the Farseer court.

‘It’s my fault, don’t worry about it man. The smell of these lovely squash pies was so delightful that I forgot to pay attention to the outside world!’

I froze. I knew this voice.

‘Really, the color of these shoes was horrid anyways,’ Lord Willow insisted in a cheery tone.

I stood up straight to meet him in the eyes. It was the first time that I was seeing my rival up close. He was even younger than I had estimated him to be, not older than 25 years old. Around the same age as Lord Golden appeared to be. I judged his appearance to be quite unremarkable. His hair was a mass of short chestnut curls and his eyes were a deep brown, almost black. His skin was as dark as any Buckman's, and he was slightly shorter than me, with full cheeks and a slightly turned-up nose.

What struck me was his facial expression. His smile was warm and friendly and he was looking at me with an amused glint in his eyes, as if we had just shared a joke. I immediately understood the kind of person he was. He was someone who, despite being high born, did not regard those of inferior station with contempt. Someone who would rather reassure a mere serving man by telling a joke rather than fussing about a stain on his expensive shoes. The exact right kind of person for the Fool.

I hated him.

Something of my feelings must have shown on my face, and I saw him frown slightly.

‘Look, I’m not going to report you to your master, or anything. Don’t worry, it’s fine.’

His words did not even register in my mind. All I could think about was how he had used that same voice to convince the Fool to go back to bed with him. I had to struggle to keep from growling in his face.

Lord Willow was watching me with growing concern, until his gaze fell on my white lock of hair. I caught the flare of relief in his eyes as he asked.

‘I see, you must be Lord Golden’s former serving man. Ken Badgerlock, am I right? Do you work in the kitchens now?’

Him straddling the Fool and unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Tom Badgerlock,’ I breathed. His mouth on the Fool’s. ‘N-no. Not the kitchens.’

I managed to wipe the shameful tears that had escaped my eyes before he could take notice of them. Turning on my heels, I fled.

Chapter Text

After my embarrassing encounter with Lord Willow, I went straight for my spot in the secrets corridors, knowing that the abundance of food on the tray could only mean that he was planning on sharing a private meal with Lord Golden. I had been crouching behind the peephole ever since, and my knees were starting to ache. I was definitely not getting any younger… nor wiser, since I was yet again invading the Fool’s privacy. I chased the uncomfortable thought from my mind.

They had just finished eating. Lord Golden was sitting on a fat cushion before the fire, with Lord Willow’s head resting on his outstretched legs.

They were sipping a glass of wine, and Lord Willow was telling a story about his journey to Buckkeep and his struggles with life at sea, which Lord Golden seemed to find very amusing.

‘Ah yes, I remember having to share a cabin with Jek and Althea, I thought I was going to turn crazy.’ Smiling, he brought the glass to his lips. ‘I had to hang makeshift curtains around my bunk to keep a semblance of privacy…’ He paused, as if he were remembering a fond memory, then shook his head and took another sip of his drink. ‘Lian, my dear. You know that I love everything we share together… But you still could have brought one more glass of this delicacy,’ he added, jokingly.

Lord Willow raised his chin so that his eyes could meet the Fool’s. ‘Well I would have, but the other glass got knocked out of the tray when someone bumped into me.’

‘A pity,’ the Fool commented, threading his long fingers through the young man’s curls.

‘It was your former serving man.’

The Fool’s hand froze in mid-motion.

‘Who?’ he enquired in a low voice.

‘Tom Badgerlock.’

‘Oh. I see.’ There was a long pause. ‘Do you know each other?’ Lord Golden was trying to sound casual but I could tell from the stiffness of his posture and the way his hands had stopped moving that there was tension bubbling inside him. I could not decide if I wanted this discussion to end or not. It was certainly unnerving to hear them talk about me when I couldn’t do anything about it, but then again, I was starving for any kind of information regarding the state of my relationship with the Fool.

‘No, but I did not need to,’ Lord Willow started. ‘Everyone in the keep knows about the scarred grouch of a man who used to act as a bodyguard to the ever so graceful Lord Golden.’ After a thoughtful silence, he added, ‘Well I can certainly vouch for his reputation now.’

‘How so?’ Lord Golden asked warily, downing the rest of his wine in one go.

‘Well he looked a fright when I saw him earlier. When our eyes met it was like he had seen a ghost. I almost thought he was going to jump at my throat, quite literally.’

Lord Golden sighed. ‘Yes, he does come off as a grump when you don’t know him. He’s like that with everyone.’

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Lord Willow conceded. ‘I had already seen him a couple of times in the dining hall or when he rides alongside the Prince’s escort, and it is true that he always wears an angry look. I could tell that his scars were mostly to blame and that it was not something he could help. And yet earlier… It was like I had just killed his entire family.’ Noticing Lord Golden’s frown, he insisted. ‘I swear! You know I’m good at reading people, it only took me a couple of days to figure you out. I felt Badgerlock’s hostility flare the moment he looked at my face. I only wish I knew why...’ He heaved a big sigh.

‘I see. Well I... I might.’ Lord Golden sounded uneasy. ‘Do you know...’ he started cautiously. ‘Is there any chance that rumours about your… preferences in bed partners could have spread amongst the keep’s court?’

The question seemed to surprise Lord Willow. ‘Well, nothing about us, that’s for sure. We’ve been very careful.’ He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘But there have been rumours about me ever since I left for Jamaillia. No one has ever seen me with a lady at my arm, so they suspect it. My family, our neighbours, our staff, everyone. And I don’t doubt for a second that Duke Shemshy and the small nobility of Shoaks brought the gossip with them to Buckkeep. But what does that have to do with our conversation?’

‘Because it could be that. Tom Badgerlock. He might have heard about those rumours and that could be why he reacted to you the way he did.’

I was petrified. The Fool was hitting too close to home.

Lord Willow looked confused. ‘Do you really think so? I mean, I know people in Buckkeep are uptight, but how would you know if the man had anything against that in particular?’

There was a long pause, during which Lord Golden lowered his head to gaze into Lord Willow’s eyes. Finally, he seemed to reach a conclusion.

‘I want to be honest with you, as much as I can,’ he started. ‘Tom Badgerlock was indeed my servant, but we have known each other since childhood. He is, or rather was, my dearest friend. But we had a falling-out a few months ago. About this very topic. He made me confess the romantic feelings I had been harbouring for him for some time, and it did not please him one bit. We argued. Quite harshly.’ He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for his next words. ‘And that’s how I know that if he heard that you liked men, he would hate you for it. Just like he does me.’ His voice broke on the last words.

It felt like my chest was being ripped apart. A surge of emotions was rising inside me: guilt, despair, self-loathing and, perhaps most of all, frustration. I was in love with someone who thought I despised him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lord Willow whispered, propping himself up on one elbow to kiss Lord Golden gently. I had to close my eyes. ‘You should come with me. You don’t belong here, with these people. Come back with me to Jamaillia,’ he begged. ‘People like you and me can live freely there.’ My breath caught in my throat and my eyes snapped open. I felt torn between the exhilaration of knowing that Lord Willow was not staying and the paralyzing fear that the Fool might leave with him. No. Gods please, no.

‘As much as I would like to… I still have things to take care of here. I cannot stray from my path.’ The Fool sounded resigned, yet resolved. The cold grip of panic that had seized me lifted and I was able to breathe again.

‘Yes I know,’ Lord Willow relented. ‘But I had to try one more time.’ A pause. ‘I can’t believe this is our last night.’

Lord Golden caressed his cheek gently. ‘I wish I had met you sooner. You are such a beautiful person, Lian.’ Even from afar, I could tell that his eyes brimmed with tears.

Sitting back upright, Lord Willow took him in his arms. ‘Are you going to be alright after I’m gone?’

The Fool pulled back from his embrace and gave him a sad smile.

The man would be gone in a few hours and the Fool was staying here. He would forget about Lord Willow and I would show him that he was wrong about me. There was hope.

Chapter Text

Lord Willow’s departure went pretty much unnoticed at court, because the Prince’s betrothal was still the center of attention. Perhaps only I could see how his absence was affecting Lord Golden. The nobleman, who used to partake in every kind of festivities that involved drinks and gambling now shied away from outings and social events, and often had his evening meals brought straight to his chambers. His smiles also seemed more strained than before, but no one else seemed to take notice and I had yet again to marvel at my friend’s acting abilities. I wondered how long this melancholy of his would last, even though I could not help but rejoice at my rival’s sudden disappearance.

I was pondering these thoughts as I was standing guard at the Great Hall. The Buckkeep nobility was having dinner and I was trying to look nonchalant while I was observing Lord Golden out of the corner of my eye. He had as usual taken up a seat at one of the high tables. He was keeping his head bowed and was absentmindedly pushing his food around his plate, appearing to be deep in thought.

‘So... you too?’

I turned to see whence the voice had come, and found myself face to face with a serving woman who was looking up at me nervously. Definitely a garden maid, I thought as I took notice of the pruning shears poking out of her apron pocket. Her light-brown hair was tied back in a bun and she was fidgeting with the pendant that hung on her neck, a sculpted black and white rose. Even then, it took me a short while to remember her name: Garetha. She was the woman who had been placing flowers on Lord Golden’s tray every morning. I recalled how I had urged the Fool to seek comfort in her arms during our quarrel and I winced inwardly at the memory.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ I mumbled, hoping my uneasiness did not show on my face.

There was something akin to pity in her eyes when she explained. ‘I meant, you love him too, don’t you?’ Her gaze drifted towards the table where Lord Golden was seated.

I had been expecting anything but that, and I was struggling to find a fitting answer when she continued. ‘It’s in your eyes when you look at him. And you’ve been staring non stop since the beginning of the meal. I used to do that as well.’

I didn’t know what to say so I asked stupidly. ‘Used to?’

Her eyes shifted back to me and she gave me a sad smile.

‘I try not to do that anymore. In fact, I’ve been watching you for a few weeks and I wanted to give you a piece of advice. Are you willing to hear me out?’

Her words made me feel extremely uneasy. Were my feelings that transparent? I suddenly found that I was too weary to try and find a believable excuse to explain my recent behaviour and deny her claims. I knew she was waiting for an answer, so I looked around and saw that no one was paying attention to us. The evening meals at Buckkeep could last several hours, during which guards such as myself had nothing to do except stand at their post and try not to fall asleep on their feet. The closest person to us was the guardswoman posted at the other end of the entrance to the Great Hall and she was looking thoroughly bored. I judged that we were way out of earshot but I still kept my voice low as I answered, ‘Of course, I’m listening.’

‘Thank you. Look, I’ve known Lord Golden for a long time, ever since he was-’ She stopped and looked suddenly unsure. ‘How well do you know him?’ she asked cautiously.

I realised that she did not want to betray his secret identity, and I was glad of that. ‘I knew him when he was someone else if that’s what you mean,’ I said simply.

She looked relieved. ‘That’s what I thought, even though I don’t recall ever seeing you around the keep when he was still the Fool.’

Of course, she could never have guessed that it was the Witted Bastard himself, risen from the dead, who was standing right before her. ‘I was not very noticeable at the time so I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.’

Her smile broadened. ‘I see. So as I said, Lord Golden and I have known each other ever since we were children. I was his first friend at Buckkeep,’ she observed proudly. That stung. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware, he was not very popular amongst the other children of the keep. His looks and his manners were… peculiar to say the least, and being different is the best way to get turned into a target.’ She paused and seemed to take a breath to reign in her anger. ‘He kept getting chased around by the other children. Sometimes, they would throw stones at him.’ My heart sank. It saddened me to my core to hear about the torments he'd had to endure. But she did not give me time to dwell on those feelings. ‘He often sought refuge on the apple tree, in the kitchen garden. That’s how we came to know each other. I would give him plantain and other herbs to treat his wounds. For some reason, he always declined when I offered to take him to a healer.’ I snorted. I knew too well how infuriating the Fool’s obsessive need for privacy could be. ‘He thought I helped him out of pity, and that may have been true at first, but… He was always kind, and funny, and attentive, as I’m sure you know.’

‘I do,’ I said.

‘So you can understand how easy it was for me to fall in love with him.’

I nodded. I did not know where she was getting at with her tale, but it felt good to hear someone talk about the Fool. I had seen so little of him lately that it was hard for me to remember that the friend of my childhood had indeed been real.

‘I never told him of course,’ Garetha went on. ‘I bore no illusions about his feelings for me. I knew that he only saw me as a friend, and I did not want to damage our relationship. So I loved him in secret, until he left. And fifteen years later, when he came back as Lord Golden, I knew him right away. I did not think he had recognised me but I found small ways of letting him know that he was remembered. How sad it must have been for him to come back as a stranger!’

Her words made me experience a shift in perception. When I had come back to Buckkeep, it had pained me to see so many familiar faces showing no signs of recognition when they saw Tom Badgerlock. But I had never imagined that the Fool could have felt the same thing. And yet, Buckkeep had been his home too, and no one had seen through his disguise. I knew that part of the explanation for that was that no one much cared about what had become of the peculiar creature that had served as King Shrewd’s fool. Of course that must have pained him.

‘I did not think he had noticed me, until one day, a few months ago, I was told to bring him his breakfast in person. I was expecting to see Lord Golden but it was the Fool who opened his door to me. He welcomed me warmly and we shared the breakfast together. He told me that my attentions had been greatly appreciated, and that he was sorry he had not recognised me sooner.’ Again, I cringed at the memory of how he had come to realise that. ‘We had been drinking brandy and it made me feel bold so I confessed my feelings to him.’

‘How did it go?’ I felt compelled to ask, despite knowing the outcome.

She sighed. ‘He said he was very sorry, but that his heart was not his to give, for it belonged to someone else, and had for a long time.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, as I felt a surge of restlessness. Who had he been referring to? Lord Willow, or myself?

‘Don’t be,’ she continued ‘As I said, I didn’t expect him to love me back, and I am glad he was honest with me and that things between us were not awkward after that. The last thing I wanted was to lose his friendship. But none of that happened and he was very considerate, as I knew he would be. We talked a lot afterwards, about our shared memories of the keep and about what had happened in our lives since then. I told him about my lack of luck with men, and he advised me to keep an open heart for both men and women, for the former were more likely to break my heart.’ She laughed. ‘But he needn’t have said that, he didn’t break my heart.’ I highly doubted that the Fool had referred to himself but I kept that to myself.

‘And did you?’ I asked.

‘Did I what?’

‘Manage to move on, and to keep an open heart,’ I clarified.

‘I try, I really do. But it’s not easy, falling out of love with him I mean. He is the gentlest soul one could hope to meet, and loving him has always been as easy as breathing for me.’ I was surprised at how true her words rang for me. ‘I think I will always love him, but speaking honestly with him has allowed me to let go of some of my insecurities, and it feels like it brought us closer together. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, once I realised you were in the same situation I had been in. You should tell him. Be honest with him about your feelings and he will find the words, as he did for me, I’m sure of it,’ she asserted with such faith that I almost believed her. Almost.

‘It’s different, in my case. I’m not sure he would be willing to hear me out,’ I confessed.

‘Why wouldn’t he? I can assure you, he would never mock you for your feelings, or gossip to anyone about it.’ I knew that, she was rubbing salt in the wound without even knowing it. ‘Tell him I advised you to come to him. Please, do yourself a favour and be honest with him. Trust me.’

I turned to really look at her. It was sometimes hard to look past a servant garb to try and see the person beneath it, but I tried to do just that. Her expression was open, and she was giving me a warm, encouraging smile. In another life, she and I could have been friends. Just as that thought came to my mind, I realised that there was no reason why we couldn’t be now.

I bowed slightly to her. ‘Thank you, I will.’

Chapter Text

‘You are not working for me anymore Badgerlock, I’m sure there must be someone else you can talk to about your problems.’

I had decided to take action right after my conversation with Garetha. Dinner had ended a short while later, and I had managed to catch up with Lord Golden, not without some difficulty. He had waited until we had reached the staircase leading to his chambers to finally react to my calls for him to stop for a moment.

‘I need to talk to you. Please.’ I kept my tone formal in case someone could hear us.

‘I can’t imagine what you could possibly have to say to me,’ he replied curtly.

‘I just talked to Garetha.’

His brows furrowed with suspicion. ‘Not here,’ he decided after a while, and motioned me to follow him.

It did not take us long to reach his chambers. As I entered, I noticed that the room was back to its former tidiness, that had never had anything to do with me to begin with. I decided to sit on the armchair across from Lord Golden, who was leaning against the door of his bedchamber. From my spot, I could admire the way his face was lit by the soft moonlight glow coming from the window. The makeup he was wearing today was very subtle, just a few bronze scales above his cheekbones. He was looking right at me with his piercing, golden gaze, obviously displeased. Again, I was struck by how young he looked, no more than 25 years old, when I knew that he was actually older than me by a long shot. Would he still look to be in his prime when I will have become an old man? I did not like that thought, so I chased it from my mind. Better to focus on what was at stake at this very moment.

‘So? What did you say to Garetha?’ he demanded, with his foot tapping impatiently.

‘I said nothing to her,’ I retorted. ‘She just came to me at dinner and talked to me.’

‘About what?’

‘About you.’ His frown deepened. ‘She noticed that something was going on between you and me,’ I explained. ‘We talked and she advised me to be honest with you. So that’s what I came for. Honesty.’

He snorted. ‘I believe I’ve had quite enough of your honesty lately, Fitz.’

Despite his jab, hope bubbled up inside me. It had been months since I had heard him call me by my name.

‘I know, and that’s precisely what I came to tell you.’ I breathed and held his gaze. ‘Fool, I am so sorry about what I said to you during our quarrel. I want you to know that I regretted my words almost as soon as they were out. And I know that me apologizing is not going to make you forget about the awful things I said to you.’

‘Indeed, it is not.’

‘I know, but I need you to know that I am sorry,’ I continued. ‘Trust me Fool when I say that I would do anything to repair the damage to our friendship. These last few months have been awful, and I would rather face your anger than be a stranger to you.’

He folded his lips, considering my words. ‘I’m not even mad at you anymore Fitz,’ he answered in a weary voice. ‘It’s just… I warned you this would happen. I knew you wouldn’t understand. And yet you insisted, and look where it led us.’

His words did not deter me. ‘Trust me, I’ve done a lot of thinking these last few months, and I understand now, I really do. Our friendship is the most precious thing I have in this world.’ I was suddenly inspired. ‘Beloved.’ I heard him take a sharp intake of breath. ‘What can I do to make it up to you?’

He turned his head away from me and stood silent for a moment. I could not believe how good it felt to have finally said those words aloud.

‘Thank you. I needed to hear that Fitz,’ the Fool said softly, shifting his gaze back to me. A very faint smile was forming on his face. ‘It hasn’t been easy for me either, these past few months.’ I nodded in understanding. ‘And now I have to remember to give my thanks to Garetha, once again. I’m glad you took her advice and came to talk to me.’

He was right, in a way. But I had come for honesty. I wanted no more secrets between us. ‘Actually, our quarrel was not what Garetha and I had been talking about.’

‘Oh. But... you said you had been talking about me.’

‘We were.’ The enormity of what I was about to confess suddenly dawned on me and I was struggling to find the right words.

‘I don’t understand,’ he admitted.

‘Garetha and I had been talking...’ I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself for what was about to come next. ‘About my feelings for you.’

He wrapped his arms protectively around himself. ‘Fitz, is this supposed to mean anything? Because if it does, I don’t get it.’

‘Yes, I think you do. Fool, I have feelings for you.’ I couldn’t stop my voice from trembling as I said the words. Why was confessing your love for someone so very difficult?

‘Of course you do. Just like you have feelings for Chade, or Dutiful, or Kettricken. We all have feelings Fitz you know. If there is something you want to say to me, you have to be more specific than that.’

Irritated at his antics, I stood up, crossed the short distance that separated us and took him by the shoulders. He wanted me to be specific, so I would make sure that there was no room for doubt about what I meant. In a quick motion, I pushed him back against the door and kissed him deeply, holding his mouth to mine. I had acted on impulse, my actions barely registering in my mind. I had given the Fool no time to react. He stood frozen, and his eyes were wide with shock. I closed mine and sighed with contentment, but just as I broke us apart to get some air, the Fool managed to snake away from my grip and to push me back so violently that I staggered and nearly knocked over the table behind me. I heard something shatter on the floor but paid it no mind.

The Fool was glaring at me with bright eyes, also trying to catch his breath. ‘What do you think you are doing?’ he snapped. His voice was that of Lord Golden again. He was obviously trying to contain his fury, but I could tell from his short exhales that he was failing, badly.

Frustrated and confused, I practically screamed at him. ‘I love you Fool, that’s what I came to tell you! That’s what Garetha advised me to be honest about! I realised it too late, after our quarrel, but… I love you Fool, and not as a friend.’

Outrage was slowly giving way to astonishment on his face. ‘No you don’t,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Yes, I do! Fool, just let me explain-’

‘No. You. Don’t!’ he exploded. ‘How dare you Fitz? How dare you say such things just to get me to forgive you? How stupid do you think I am? You may call me Fool, but believe me, I am far from being one. I know that you toy with Starling’s and Jinna’s feelings to get what you want, but I’m warning you, don’t play games with me.’ Angry tears were spilling from his eyes and he wiped them away impatiently, damaging the fine scaling on his cheeks.

‘It’s not what you think I swear! Beloved just let me explain-’

‘ You don’t get to call me that.’

I swallowed hard. Panic was rising inside me. How had things turned so wrong? As I opened my mouth to explain myself, he held up his hand to quiet me. He scoffed. ‘It is of little importance anyway. Even if you are sincere, or think you are, it is too late for you to tell me that. I moved on.’

Darkness was threatening the edges of my vision and I took a few steps backwards. ‘But-’ I managed to mouth, and I was so focused on proving his words wrong that I did not think about what I said next. ‘He left.’ There was a long silence, but now that the truth was out, there was no going back, so I confessed. ‘I know about you and Lian. And I know that he left you.’

‘He didn’t leave me!’ the Fool hissed. ‘I let him go! I let him go because I have a destiny to fulfill here! I had finally found someone kind and loving, and I let him go.’ He slowly sank to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest in a way characteristic of my childhood friend. Sobs were shaking him despite his efforts to conceal them.

‘I’m sorry.’ I said lamely.

I wasn’t really. At least, not sorry that he had stayed, but sorry to see him in such a distressed state. I could still feel him desperately trying to rein in his emotions when he suddenly froze and looked up slowly.

‘And exactly how would you know about him?’ he asked in a flat voice. His trembling had stopped and he was looking at me with narrowed eyes. I knew that I was trapped, but my mind was still working frantically to try and find a way out of this. Sensing my hesitation, he added in an icy tone. ‘If you lie to me Fitz I promise you, I will leave and you will never see me again. Never.’

‘I spied on you,’ I blurted. He did not even bother to look surprised. ‘There is… a peephole, right there,’ I admitted, pointing towards the spot. ‘After you fled from our Skill lesson a few weeks ago, I came here to apologise to you, but no one answered the door. I thought that you were avoiding me, so I went inside Chade’s labyrinths and found this spot. I just wanted to know if you were really here or not.’ Saying it aloud did not help make it sound any less absurd. The Fool’s face was a careful blank mask, and I could only imagine what he was feeling. Disbelief? Hurt? Betrayal? Almost certainly a mix of all three. ‘That’s when I saw him come out of your bedchamber. I saw you and him... kiss and then go back to the other room.’ He flushed a deep red and before he could speak, I clarified. ‘That’s all I saw, don’t worry. I don’t think there is a peephole in your bedchamber, or at least, I didn’t look for one there.’

‘How considerate of you.’

Ignoring his barbed comment, I continued. ‘After that… I became obsessed Fool. Jealousy was eating me up and I could think of nothing else. So whenever I had to use the secret corridors… I would come here, to try and learn more about your relationship. I couldn’t stand not knowing. I think I was hoping to see you two break up. The last time I did that was the day before he left, and that’s when I heard about his departure.’

A silence grew after the end of my tale. I couldn’t think of anything to say in my defense. I knew how much the Fool valued his privacy and I knew that this new breach in our trust would be hard for him to forgive. If he was even willing to.

‘You know what the worst part of this is, Fitz?’ the Fool eventually sighed. ‘I’m not even surprised. When you broke into my tower room all those years ago, I admit that I felt betrayed. But now... I’m just so sick of your deceptions.’

‘I shouldn’t have done that Fool, I know,’ I tried to explain. ‘Even when I was doing it, I knew that it was wrong.’

He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Yes, I’m sure you did. But you did it anyway. That’s the problem. I don’t care about your motives, or your guilt. You spied on me Fitz!’ His voice broke on the words. He closed his eyes and pinched his nose, composing himself. ‘Our quarrel, I can forgive, but this… I need some time to think, Fitz.’

‘I am so sorry, please forgive this one last time. I won’t ever do it again, I swear,’ I pleaded, hating how empty my promise sounded.

‘I’m so tired. Just… Just leave me alone. Get out. Please.’

Even then, he did not sound angry, just resigned, and incredibly weary. I knew that we would not get any further on the matter, at least for tonight. I had said my bit, and the only thing left for me to do was to rely on our friendship, hoping that it would, yet again, be enough to make up for my wrongdoings.

So I left.

Chapter Text

‘Oh, Fitz.’

I bowed my head and took a sip of my tea to avoid Kettricken’s pitying gaze. I had gone to pay an early visit to the Queen, hoping to take my mind out of my disastrous confrontation with the Fool from the day before. I had planned on discussing Dutiful’s engagement with Kettricken, but agitated as I was, she had quickly noticed that something was amiss, and asked me what had happened. And I had told her everything, not too surprised by how natural it felt to confide in her. She was, after all, one of my closest and oldest friends.

‘I know,’ I answered sheepishly. ‘What would you do in my stead?’

She shook her head. ‘I honestly can’t say... I don’t even know how you could have thought that this was a good idea. Knowing how dearly the Fool cherishes privacy, how could you imagine that you could get away with spying on him?’ I felt my cheeks burn hot and could not think of anything to say in my defense. She sighed and placed her hand over mine. ‘But I don’t blame you Fitz,’ she added softly. ‘I know that you have always had to struggle with impossible choices, and that your intent was not malicious... And I think the Fool knows this too.’

The lump in my throat seemed to dissolve a bit. She smiled at me and patted my hand like she would have a stubborn toddler. ‘But you need to give him some time. He knows you’re sorry, and you have to let him make the first move now. I know it’s hard for you, but please Fitz, just be patient and don’t act on impulse. Because when you do, you always end up making bad decisions and things get worse... You do realise this, don’t you?’ The last sentence was said with a hint of exasperation tinged with amusement, and I could not help but share a small laugh with her. It felt good not to be judged and to talk freely, not as Queen and servant but as friends, like we so often had before.

We spent the rest of the morning chatting, and I left her study with a slightly easier spirit.

Chapter Text

I kept Kettricken’s advice and laid low. It wasn’t easy and it went against my most basic instincts, both human and wolf. Rushing headlong when faced with a difficult situation was a long habit of mine and I just had to learn some patience. So I suffered in silence, and had to refrain myself from stopping the Fool whenever our paths crossed, or from knocking on his door late at night when I could see a band of light passing under the frame. A few weeks went by and I could at least rejoice in the fact that my friend’s melancholic mood seemed to be lessening somehow. Lord Golden had resumed his busy social schedule and was yet again attending morning rides and hosting parties in his chambers.

Despite how badly our last conversation had ended, it felt like some of the tension had been lifted between us. At least, Lord Golden wasn’t pretending that I didn’t exist anymore. I even caught him looking at me on several occasions, studying me with a slightly puzzled look on his face, as if he was trying to figure something out. Feeling his gaze on me always made my heart pound louder in my chest, but I tried hard to not let it show on my face. I didn’t want to appear too hopeful, for fear of pushing my friend away again.

Since most of the court’s guests from Bingtown and the Outislands had departed, my guardsman duties were not as time consuming as before, and it allowed me to spend some more time with Garetha. We often ate our breakfast together, and our morning conversations were a welcome respite from my duties to the Farseer crown, both official and unofficial. She had not asked specifics about how my conversation with the Fool had gone, but could obviously tell that it hadn’t been the outcome I had hoped for. So she did her best to cheer me up with the latest gossip, and I learned more about the intricate relationships at court with her than I had during my years of training with Chade.

That morning, I spotted Garetha at her usual seat and sat down across from her with the tray of bread and cheese I had just managed to grab from the kitchen. She nodded at me with a smile. I could see that she was just as sleepy as I was, so we ate our meals in companionable silence.

With nothing to keep my mind busy, my thoughts drifted off to the Fool and I found myself trying to guess if he was already awake. I wondered if I would have the chance to see him that day but since I wasn’t on duty in the dining hall, I knew that I probably wouldn’t.

I was taken out of my musings by two of my comrades who came to sit right next to us. Their voices were much too loud for such an early hour, but I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly as I listened to their excited chatter about an upcoming party of some sort.

‘Oh this reminds me, Tom,’ I heard Garetha say. ‘What do you plan on wearing for Jhenaqa?’

I turned back towards her, not sure if I had heard right.

‘I’m sorry, for what?’

‘Jhenaqa Day,’ she repeated. ‘It’s next week, remember?’

I racked my brains to see if the word rang any bell, but nothing came to mind.

‘I don’t know what that is.’

She gave a short laugh, but seeing how my expression remained perplexed, she widened her eyes at me.

‘Man, have you been living in a cave for the last decade?’

In a cabin, to be exact. But I wasn’t about to tell her that.

‘I’m not much for social events,’ I explained. ‘And I’ve been away from Buckkeep for a long time,’

‘I figured! It’s been more than ten years since Queen Kettricken established Jhenaqa Day!’ she exclaimed. ‘Jhenaqa, it’s Chyurda for masquerade, or farce. Once a year and for a whole day, everyone dresses up as someone of a higher or lower social status. In Buckkeep Castle, noblemen will wear servant garbs, while the castle staff like us gets to dress up as aristocrats.’

‘Really?’ I asked, skeptical. ‘I can’t picture Queen Kettricken indulging in such frivolity.’

‘Oh, quite the contrary!’ Garetha retorted. ‘She says it helps people understand each other, especially rich noblemen, who get to experience what it’s like, being of the people.’

‘I guess that makes sense,’ I mused.

‘You can’t imagine the scandal the first time the Queen descended to the dining hall dressed in a simple cotton dress and apron. But you know how she is, and by the end of the day, half the court had traded their clothes to follow her lead.’

I laughed at my friend’s audacity and stubbornness. But still. ‘That doesn’t sound like something I would enjoy,’ I said, wincing at the thought of having to dress up.

‘Yes you would! Everyone enjoys Jhenaqa, it’s good fun.’

‘No I assure you, it’s not my thing,’ I insisted, hoping that she would let the matter drop.

She pouted, but it seemed to work, and she changed the topic abruptly.

‘So, what are your plans for the day?’

‘Nothing really,’ I answered. ‘Maybe train for the rest of the morning, but I don’t know about the afternoon.’

She beamed. ‘Oh, then could you come with me to Buckkeep Town? I’d ordered some herbs and tools for the garden and I could use a helping hand, actually.’

I smiled. ‘Yes, of course.’ Getting out of the castle could only do me good, and I enjoyed spending time with Garetha. We didn’t know each other that well, having properly met only a few weeks before, but I’d quickly taken to her breezy and caring personality.

We arranged to meet at the entrance gates after lunch and I spent what remained of the morning training. When the time came for our rendezvous, my back muscles were still sore, but I was glad to see that my old reflexes were coming back to me.

We met as planned and strode our way down to Buckkeep Town. Soon, I realised that what I thought was going to be a simple affair was in fact more of a proper marathon. Three hours in, and we were wandering, or more accurately marching, through the town with several errands left to do. I had no idea how Garetha's small frame could hold so much energy. We’d probably been to every possible plant or garden shop there was and every time, she’d been like a kid in a candy store. I couldn’t bring myself to understand what was so sensational about the half dead cutting she’d gotten as free gift for her purchase from the herbalist, but I kept my mouth shut, hoping for a quick end to my torture in the form of a prompt return to Buckkeep Castle, and a good night sleep.

At some point, we passed by what used to be Molly’s chandlery, and I was surprised by the fond memories that spontaneously passed through my mind. I hoped for happiness and good health for my childhood lover, with no trace of the bitterness that this kind of thoughts usually left me with.

‘Come on Tom, just one last stop!’ Garetha urged me.

I fought the impulse to roll my eyes, knowing full well what just one last stop could entail. She took my hand to make me walk faster and got us to a tailor’s shop. I blanched, remembering the long hours spent getting measured for clothing by Mistress Hasty during my childhood years. Garetha seemed to sense my distress and laughed out loud.

‘She won’t bite, I promise!’ she giggled, nearly pushing me against the door.

The tailor, a middle-aged woman with a stern expression on her face, was on us in an instant. She seemed to recognise Garetha, and informed her that her order was ready. She immediately went to the backroom to fetch it, and I was relieved to realise that we would not need to linger. My relief, however, was short-lived when I heard Garetha announcing merrily, ‘Actually, that’s not all we’re here for. You see, my colleague here,’ she pointed at me, ‘is looking for his own costume for Jhenaqa.’

My jaw dropped and the expression I made must have been comical, because even the tailor’s face broke into a smile.

‘Is that so?’ she snickered.

I opened my mouth to protest but Garetha cut me off.

‘Yes. You see, he’s a recent addition to the castle staff and this would be his first masquerade, so we’re looking for something rather dramatic, to mark the occasion.’

I nearly choked. ‘Absolutely no-’

‘How wonderful, I have the perfect outfit!’ the tailor exclaimed, not paying attention to my attempt at protesting. ‘Just give me a second,’ she added before disappearing into the backroom once again.

I turned to glare daggers at Garetha, who seemed unfazed.

‘That was your plan from the start, wasn’t it?’

She raised her chin defiantly. ‘And what if it was?’

I sighed. ‘Garetha, I’m not dressing up as a nobleman in front of the whole court.’

She laughed. ‘Yes, you are. Because let me tell you something about Jhenaqa, Tom: on that day, nothing stands out more than a killjoy. Everyone, and I mean everyone , is playing along. If you come to the masquerade dressed as yourself, you’re going to get everyone’s attention, and there will be talks about you for days.’ I crossed my arms, shivering at the thought. ‘So unless you plan on spending the whole day locked in your room, you need a costume.’

‘She’s not wrong, you know.’ The tailor had returned, holding in her arms what looked like a bundle of white fabric. ‘But you’re in luck young man, because someone just about your size cancelled his order earlier today, so I can just alter his outfit to fit you, and charge you half the price I originally asked for it. It will only take a few minutes. How does that sound?’

I knew what defeat sounded like, and that was it. Besides, I was desperate to get this done as soon as possible. I shrugged my assent, and was pushed inside a small fitting room. In the end, a few minutes turned into a full hour, because I tried putting on the tunic the wrong way and ended up tearing the back of it. I also kept fidgeting and the tailor had to slap my hand away everytime I tried to readjust the trousers, which were hiked up way too high for comfort. I got pricked by more pins that I could count but the two women seemed to be having the time of their lives. They kept marveling at how the “ivory” fabric was doing wonders for my dark skin, and how I even had a Farseer look to me when I was dressed as such. They didn’t seem to notice me freeze at the comment, surely because I had been uncomfortable from the start.

When the ordeal finally ended, the tailor did not even accept my money, saying that everyone would be running to her shop when they saw how handsome and regal she could make even someone like me look. I was too tired to care about what she meant by that. She gave a few pieces of advice to Garetha regarding my hair and -I shivered- makeup for the big day, and we left her shop with our costumes safely stored in our baskets.

Garetha was in a good mood and her enthusiasm managed to shake me out of my crankiness. Despite my protests, I could not deny that I had a good time, and that running errands with my new friend had succeeded in keeping my mind off my worries, which mainly consisted in lamenting over the state of my relationship with the Fool. The Fool. I cringed, realising that he would also be witness to my humiliation of the week to come. I decided that I would try to avoid him, but regretted that I would not get to see the costume he had chosen for himself, for I was convinced that my exuberant friend would be fond of this new tradition.

I became aware that I had not been paying attention to what Garetha was saying, and chided myself for getting distracted. Focusing on my current situation, I spent the rest of the way back caught up in a fascinating debate on the best way to maximize small spaces for a herb garden.

Chapter Text

I blinked at my reflection in the mirror.

The day of the masquerade had come, and I had been shaken awake before the sun was even up by a very enthusiastic Garetha. She herself had already been dressed and ready, and I had my first shock of the day, noticing how refined she looked in her silver jewellery and fine gown of lush green fabrics. She looked every bit the part of a highborn Lady of the Six Duchies, and seemed genuinely pleased when I told her so.

Garetha had been adamant that I let her take care of everything regarding my own costume, and she had spent the last hour fixing my outfit, hair and doing my makeup. When I was deemed acceptable enough, she went to fetch a mirror, insisting that I wouldn’t look that good every day. I hadn’t bothered to look at my reflection at the tailor’s shop, but now that I did, I found myself dumbstruck. I was having a hard time believing that the person I saw was, indeed, me.

The outfit was… Not atrocious. It wasn’t Jamaillian fashion at least, with its lace frills and armies of useless buttons. In the process of dressing me, Garetha had explained that what I wore was actually a traditional ceremonial costume from Mersenia, a continent to the far south.

The ivory tunic that hung to my knees was rather simple, save for the subtle embellishments in white velvet that ran around the standing collar and bottom hem. The fit of the cream satin pants was tighter than my usual trousers, and they stopped at my ankles, letting some skin show above delicate copper sandals. But the most striking piece was the black silk jacket, strewed with floral patterns embroidered in golden thread. The cut was loose and the fabric so thin that I had wondered aloud what purpose the piece served if it couldn’t even keep its wearer warm. Garetha had just rolled her eyes at me, and advised me to give up trying to understand such things.

My hair ended up bound with a golden ribbon in a loose ponytail, a long way from my usual severe warrior’s tail. Despite my loud protesting, Garetha had insisted on applying some kind of black powder that resembled ground charcoal under my eyes. And the final touch, as she had called it, had been to adorn me with a ridiculous amount of golden jewellery: bracelets, hair pins, and even rings.

As I was taking in all this in the mirror, the first thing that passed through my mind was that I looked like Regal. I winced at the unpleasant memories that the thought brought to my mind, images of a cold cell, cruel tauntings and the taste of blood in my mouth. I closed my eyes shut, willing the nausea to go away.

‘Come on, just admit that I did a good job!’

I breathed out slowly. Now was not the time. I would not let my past get in the way of this day and Garetha’s efforts. I opened my eyes and forced a smile.

‘I guess it’s not too bad,’ I admitted, and smirked at her offended look.

‘Not too bad? Really, Tom? You look stunning! Now come on, breakfast has already been served and there won’t be anything left for us if we keep loitering.’

I felt horribly self-conscious as we made our way through the castle. I was attracting far more looks than I was accustomed to, and the people we ran into kept hailing me with infuriatingly pompous greetings. Some of them even went so far as to take a bow before me, a smarmy smile plastered on their faces. I was almost tempted to think that this was fate’s idea of getting back to me for all my wrongdoings.

Garetha nudged me discreetly. ‘Tom, don’t look so grumpy! Relax, everyone is staring at you.’

‘I thought the whole purpose of this was to avoid having anyone notice me,’ I muttered between gritted teeth.

She giggled. ‘I suppose it was, but I’m afraid I’ve made you look too good. Now stop scowling and try to have fun, we get to eat at the high table today.’

Begrudgingly, I let myself be led to the Great Hall, and we sat on the only two seats that were still available, at the very end of the high table. The room was buzzing with activity, and I had to fight the urge to crane my neck to look for the Fool, reminding myself that I did not want him to bear witness to my humiliation.

Garetha was right about everyone’s willingness to participate in Jhenaqa, and I could not deny that the atmosphere had an air of playful levity to it that I found quite pleasant. It was rather odd to see the noblemen of the court dressed in simple aprons and presenting us with trays of food, but I could not sense any bitterness from them. Everyone, even those who had to play the least enviable roles, seemed to be enjoying themselves. When I shared the thought with Garetha, she told me it was mostly Kettricken’s determination that had convinced them, and now that everyone was used to Jhenaqa, all was done in good fun, like a game.

‘Besides,’ she added. ‘Participating is not mandatory, so those who don’t want to get their hands dirty just stay in their rooms… And wait to get teased about it the day after.’

Unsurprisingly, breakfast was barely palatable, having been prepared by people who had never had to cook in their lives. I finished mine anyway. I suspected that I would need every bit of my strength to get through the day.

And I was right. Garetha was apparently intent on giving me a taste of everything there was to be done on Jhenaqa. She accepted one of her friend’s invitation and we went with him to play stones in the east gathering hall. To my dismay, we quickly attracted a crowd of onlookers. Soon, everyone seemed to want to play with me, and each of them took the opportunity to marvel at my "miraculous transformation". My jaw was starting to ache from the fake smiles I had to give in return, but Garetha, on the other hand, was beaming. Judging from the amount of times she was asked to reveal the name of the tailor responsible for such a masterwork, I understood that the woman would be swarmed with orders for next year's Jhenaqa. Fortunately, I found myself easily engrossed in the game, reminiscing about Kettle’s riddles and our quest throughout the Mountains, and the morning went by quicker than I had anticipated.

After lunch, the new nobility, or former castle staff, decided to go for a ride on the hills surrounding the castle. I hadn’t had the chance to care much for Myblack lately, and the horse seemed to enjoy this opportunity to stretch her legs. We stopped at a meadow near the Witness stones, where a group of people was already gathered.

Garetha immediately spotted a friend of hers, and, not really knowing what to do with myself, I decided to follow her. I recognised the woman as being one of the kitchen maids, and the two of them started a heated discussion about who was the best dressed and who could have made more of an effort. I was feeling very awkward, standing right behind them, not participating in the conversation but not daring to venture far from my friend. My uneasiness only increased as Lord Lalwick, dressed up as a common steward, kept pestering me, proclaiming that it would be his pleasure if he could be of use to me for anything. I kept declining as politely as I could manage, but I was starting to get annoyed. Surely, he had already witnessed how real servants behaved, and he knew that there was no reason for him to be so insistent. I edged closer to Garetha, keeping her at my back so as not to appear too desperate.

‘You look radiant today, my Lady.’

I froze when I recognised Lord Golden’s charming tone. So much for steering clear of him for the day, I thought. Mortification and curiosity battled inside me. I was flustered enough as it was around him not to add how ridiculous I felt in costume, but I was also dying to see the outfit he had chosen for himself. People were shielding me from his view and I risked a quick glance behind my back. My breath hitched in my throat when I caught sight of him. Free of all makeup and aristocratic attire, he looked every bit like the Fool I knew and loved. Judging from his leather gloves, simple white shirt and black trousers, he was posing as a stableboy. How he managed to look so good in such a simple outfit, I would never understand. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the costume showed more skin than usual, a far cry from Lord Golden's usual clothing, with layers of delicate fabrics, high collars and long leggings. His golden hair was bound back in a simple plait, in the same way as it had been back in his days in Jhaampe. He was complimenting Garetha on her dress and one witty retort from her made him burst in laughter. I knew I would have given pretty much anything to have been the reason for such a sweet sound.

‘Have you already met my good friend, Lord Badgerlock?’

I cringed as Garetha took me by the shoulder to stand next to her. The Fool turned his head to look at me and his teasing smile died on his lips as he took in my appearance. He stayed silent for an uncharacteristically long time, his wide eyes slowly going over me from head to toe. His mouth was slightly ajar but I could not make out anything from his expression apart from shock.

I felt my cheeks burn under his scrutinizing gaze. Was he, too, seeing Regal behind my rich clothes and painted eyes? At least, he wasn’t making fun of me, but I would have almost preferred that. Not standing the thought of him associating me with my uncle, I bowed my head, refusing to meet his eyes.

‘Not bad, don’t you think?’ Garetha asked proudly, unaware of my inner struggle.

‘Indeed,’ the Fool agreed, finally breaking his silence. His lips curled into a tight smile. ‘Though you didn’t strike me as the type of person who would enjoy dressing up, Tom.’

Talk about an understatement. ‘Lady Garetha didn’t really leave me a choice.’

The Fool’s smile broadened, turning more mischievous. ‘Well, in this you were wise, my Lady. I commend your efforts, and I am sure that Lord Badgerlock is going to turn many Ladies’ heads today.’

‘Oh, but he already did!’ she answered cheerfully. ‘You should have seen the number of stares he was attracting during breakfast. He was the talk of the morning. I’m afraid our Tom here has the potential to turn into a heartbreaker.’

The Fool’s face flickered with minute bitterness. ‘Oh, I’ll take your word for it,’ he commented, before quickly adding. ‘But as much as I hate to cut our conversation short, I believe my newfound duties require me to check on the horses. I’ll see you around, my Lady. And my Lord.’

He took a deep bow before us and headed towards the spot where the horses were being kept. I waited until I was sure that he was out of earshot.

‘You made it sound like I was actually asking for the attention!’ I huffed at Garetha.

She gave me a cheeky grin. ‘So? Weren’t you?’

‘Of course not!’ I protested.

She sighed. ‘I'm sorry Tom, but has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud?’

I glared at her and she stuck out her tongue at me. The contrast between the childish impulse and her elegant garb made me burst in laughter despite myself. She soon joined in, and I felt my annoyance and embarrassment melt away.

I dared a glance towards the Fool and startled when I noticed his gaze fixed on me. His expression was stirring with something strange and intense that I couldn’t identify. I quickly averted my eyes.

Garetha had started a conversation with another group of people and I had no desire to join in. I felt like I needed a break from the social niceties, so I made my way to Myblack. I knew that Garetha wouldn’t let me avoid the evening festivities, so I was planning on enjoying a ride alone for the rest of the afternoon.

The Fool had already figured out my intent, and had already untied the ropes securing my horse. He handed me my saddle. ‘Tired of the attention already?’ he asked.

‘You know I don’t like this,’ I answered with a frown.

‘Yes, I figured,’ he chuckled, and let me fasten and check the straps myself, even though it was supposed to be his job. He knew me well.

I got on the horse and the Fool held the bridle to lead us to the path going uphill throughout the forest.

‘Tom?’ I looked down and noticed him regarding me with a soft smile.

‘Yes?’

He handed me the reins. ‘You look good,’ he said simply, before turning back towards the gathering.

I nudged Myblack forward and we took off towards the woods. It took me the whole ride to shake the silly smile off my face.

Chapter Text

I came back just as dinner was being served.

My afternoon ride had put me in a good mood, and I decided to sit with my fellow guardsmen to try and socialise for the evening. They made room for me at their table with undisguised surprise, but no small amount of enthusiasm, and their lavish compliments on my costume held no trace of mockery. The conversation soon strayed towards how impractical nobility clothing was, and I found myself more than happy to join in on the sentiment.  

The spices and roasted vegetable pies we were served were surprisingly savoury, and I heard that Prince Dutiful had spent the whole day in the kitchens to prepare them. I felt an odd sense of pride at the thought of the boy putting so much energy into something as seemingly trivial as that. I wondered who had taught him to cook, since I could not really picture Kettricken as having the time for it. I made a mental note to congratulate, and ask Dutiful about it later.

Since there were usually more servants than noblemen at court, it seemed that all the new “castle staff” had been tasked to assist with dinner. Lords and Ladies dressed up as pages, maids, footmen and even gardeners were scurrying around us like ants, carrying trays and dirty dishes. My head jerked and I almost strained my neck when I caught sight of the Fool at the other end of the hall, jumping from table to table to refill wine glasses. He was still wearing the stableboy outfit from earlier, and judging from the number of stares that followed him, I wasn’t the only one to find it very fetching. I tried to push my annoyance aside as I dug my fork into my honey-cake.

Dinner dragged on, but was surprisingly enjoyable. I even managed to loosen up and ended up having fun listening to stories from my dining partners. The wine certainly helped in this regard.

At some point, Kettricken, dressed as a laundry maid, gave a simple speech, thanking everyone for participating in Jhenaqa and insisting on the importance for the Lords and Ladies of the Six Duchies to understand that they were to be servants of all, not only today but everyday. Despite her humble costume, the solemnity in her voice and the dignity with which she held herself were telling. She could never have been anything other than a Queen, and I thanked Eda that we were blessed with such a strong and worthy ruler.

The first music notes reached my ears as we were finishing our dessert. A group of musicians and minstrels had gathered on the corner stage, and I recognised Starling and her harp among their midst. After a few minutes spent tuning their instruments, they swept into a jolly tune that had almost everyone get up from their seats to launch into a circle dance.

I remained where I was but I realised that I was doomed when Garetha, who'd been sitting at the adjoining table, took my hand to draw me into line with the other dancers. Fortunately, I remembered the steps from the many Springfests I’d spent at Buckkeep as a child, and I managed not to make too much of a fool of myself. As we moved and turned in unison, my eyes caught the Fool’s piercing gaze on me for the second time that day, but I had no time to ponder what that meant. As the song picked up pace, I had to concentrate harder to avoid tripping over my own feet.

The music got stronger and louder, and by the time the third song ended, I was standing on wobbly legs and my head was starting to spin. I was thankful when the volume decreased and one of the minstrels launched into a well-known folk ballad about the tragic fate of a village donkey. This wasn’t a song for dancing and the audience spontaneously started to gather closer to the singer.

I took this chance to slip away towards the deserted corner of the Great Hall. I sat down into a cushioned chair and nearly rubbed my eyes from tiredness before remembering that I was wearing makeup. Before long, the echoing of the minstrel’s voice had me forget about my surroundings and I closed my eyes to let myself be lulled by the familiar verses.

“Poor beast of burden,

It closed its eyes and fell.

Forsaken by men,

It died with no farewell.

Forsaken by men,

It died with no farewell...”

‘Care for a refreshment, my Lord?’

I jerked on my seat as I felt a hand shake my shoulder lightly. I must have dozed off, and for a pretty long time, judging from the fact that the musicians had left and been replaced by puppeteers. The Fool was regarding me with smiling eyes, a tray of wine glasses balanced precariously on his arm. He held out a drink to me without waiting for my reply.

‘Yes. Thank you,’ I said, accepting the beverage with good grace, hoping that it could wash some of my tiredness away. I took a sip and marvelled at the sweet taste invading my mouth. ‘Sandsedge brandy?’ I asked.

The Fool smirked. ‘I see my Lord is a connoisseur.’ He laid the tray down on the table behind us and dropped unceremoniously into a chair next to me. Without a word, he took a glass for himself and drank it off in one draught.

I raised my eyebrows at him. ‘Drinking on the job?’

He turned his head to consider me languidly. Shadows were starting to form under his eyes, and some strands of his golden hair had worked their way loose from his plait. He looked worn-out.

‘Ever the voice of reason, Tom,’ he teased, chuckling as he grabbed yet another drink, taking his time to savour it before placing the empty glass next to the other one. From his fast exhales and the hint of redness that tinted his cheeks, I realised that he was not feigning intoxication. I glanced around us to make sure that no one was nearby, but most of the people present were crowded around the puppet show.

‘I think you’ve had quite enough liquor as it is, don’t you agree?’ I chided him.

At that, the Fool shifted on his chair to properly face me, draping his arms over the backrest and letting his head rest sideways on it. He was looking at me with big glassy eyes, as if seeing me for the first time that day.

‘I like the costume, Tom. Very much.’ His speech was slurred but I could still make out his words.

‘Thank you,’ I said, embarrassed but secretly pleased by the praise coming from him. ‘Garetha was very insistent.’

I told him about the day she dragged me to Buckkeep Town and he threw his head back in laughter when I reached the part about the tailor’s shop. ‘That’s very much like her,’ he commented, and continued in a softer voice. ‘Did you know that your outfit is in fashion in Mersenia?’

‘Yes, Garetha told me so. Although I confess that I don’t know much about these lands.’

‘I do,’ the Fool said, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. ‘It is where I’m from,’ he explained. ‘Mersenia is made up of huge, wild plains, with plants and animals such as you’ve never seen up North. It's always warm and sunny there, and the trees bear deliciously sweet fruits. We grew some in our garden. I do not know the Duchian word for it, but they were small and scaly, pink-red on the outside, with juicy white flesh on the inside. So very sweet,’ he recalled. I nodded, but said nothing, not willing to break the spell. He seldom talked about his past, so even the smallest bits I could gather felt like treasures. He continued. ‘The outfit you are wearing is donned for weddings, actually. I remember attending one in my village when I was very small. I had been grounded but my sister helped me slip out of the farm, because she knew I had been looking forward to it.’ He closed his eyes, remembering. ‘Such a long time ago. I don’t remember much of that day now, but I can still hear the music. We danced, my sister and I, until the dead of night. Until our feet were sore and our faces hurt from laughing.’

He paused for a long time, presumably lost in his memories. ‘Did your parents ever find out that you had escaped?’ I asked, encouraging him to keep talking.

‘Oh, they did!’ He grinned wistfully. ‘But they never could be harsh with me. Truly, I was a spoiled child. I looked nothing like my family, but they always cared for me and cherished me. All of them. My mother. My fathers. My sisters.’ A pause. ‘I never saw them again after I was taken to Clerres. I know that by now they're probably… But, sometimes still, I find myself wishing that I could go back. Maybe we could even go together, Fitz.’

I froze. His slip confirmed what I suspected, that the alcohol had done more damage than I had anticipated. As much as I enjoyed hearing about his childhood, this was becoming dangerous, and the Fool’s drunken tongue could very well betray our carefully cultivated roles. Taking another look around us, I was relieved to confirm that no one was really paying attention to us, or was even close enough to eavesdrop.

‘Lord Golden,’ I said, insisting on the title. ‘I think you should retire to your rooms for the night.’

He blinked, and some sort of understanding of my intentions must have come to him, for he merely nodded at my suggestion. He rose without energy, only to immediately stumble, nearly bringing the chair down with him and drawing some amused looks from the people closest to us.

I cursed inwardly at my own foolishness. I should have guessed that there was something wrong with him, and prevented him from drinking so much. I helped him stand up again and put my arm around his waist to support him, letting him lean his weight on my shoulders. He tripped several times on our way out and it took us way longer than it should have to cross the Great Hall. I wondered what had gotten him to drink so much. Was it just carelessness, or was there something else?

When we were out of sight, I picked him up and carried him in my arms throughout the castle. Everyone was still busy with the festivities, and I was glad for the empty corridors. The Fool’s body was light as ever, but slightly warmer than I remembered. I hoped it was only the alcohol, and not something more serious. The whole way, he kept looking up at me with half-closed eyes, his mouth slightly ajar and mumbling nonsense from time to time. It would have been ridiculous coming from anyone but him, but I could not find it in me to feel anything other than affection, and concern for the state he was in.

We finally reached his chambers, and I carefully set him in an armchair. Noticing the cold, I started a fire and put a blanket around him. The Fool made a small contented sound and curled in on himself, reminding me of a small kitten. I sat down on the floor in front of him, waiting for the room to warm up. He cracked his eyes open to look at me. I was aching to get closer, but I managed to hold myself back, settling for giving him back his stare.

‘You’re making it difficult for me.’

The Fool’s voice was still slightly heavy from the alcohol, but he already sounded more like himself.

‘Difficult for you to what?’ I prompted.

He sighed. ‘To stay mad at you.’

My heart leapt in my chest but I said nothing, hoping he would elaborate. And he did, albeit with some obvious difficulty. ‘Fitz, did you mean it? What you told me the other day. About your feelings.’ The new hint of vulnerability I sensed in his voice made my chest tighten with emotion.

‘Every word,’ I vowed, but did not go into detail. I didn’t want to have this conversation with him when he was drunk. He probably wouldn’t remember much of the evening anyway.

He smiled sleepily and reached for my face with his hand.

‘So beautiful,’ he whispered, sliding a single, slender finger down my cheek and the side of my throat. I kept very still, trying to suppress a shiver. ‘Everyone noticed today, but I’ve always thought so. No amount of scowling or scarring could ever hide you from me.’

I felt my cheeks burn as I desperately tried to convince my brain not to read too much into his inebriated words. ‘You’re drunk, Fool,’ I mouthed. ‘And you’re going to regret telling me this come tomorrow.’

He snorted. ‘I know, Fitzy. I know.’ He stretched his limbs and heaved a big yawn. ‘I should go to bed. Once I manage to find the courage to get out of these shoes.’

He lifted himself up laboriously and I let him struggle with his laces for a while. He nearly fell forward on me a couple of times, and when it became clear that he would not manage it on his own, I helped him out of his shoes and carried him to his bed.

The room was cold, so I brought the blanket from earlier to add to his covers. This felt familiar: fussing over him, making sure that he was comfortable. It put me in mind of when I had to care for him during our quest to find Verity. More recently, he'd also ended up in a similar situation after having pulled his stunt on the Bresingas. Before I ruined everything with our quarrel and pushed him in the arms of another man... 

Don’t think about this now , I chided myself as I tucked him into bed. He was still in costume but his clothes looked comfortable enough to sleep in, and I doubted he would have cared either way. I thought he had fallen asleep, so I was surprised when he spoke to me hesitatingly.

‘You could… I’m not sure your quarters will be very quiet tonight. If you want to catch some sleep, you could stay in your old bedroom. If you wished.’

His eyes were closed, so it was difficult for me to read into his expression. ‘Won’t you also come to regret that?’ I asked warily.

He scoffed. ‘I’m not asking you to sleep in my bed. Getting a good night sleep is not taking advantage, Fitz.’

I thought about it, and decided that it was within acceptable bounds. Besides, I would sleep better, knowing that he could call on me for help if he wasn’t feeling well. ‘Then I’ll take you up on the offer. Thank you. Feel free to wake me up if you need anything.’ I spent some more time adjusting the covers around him. ‘Sleep well,’ I said as I got up to leave the room.

The soft click the door made when I closed it almost prevented me from catching the last words he sleepily muttered into his pillow.

‘Sweet dreams, Beloved.’

Chapter Text

I slept better that night than I had in months. 

Upon my return to Buckkeep the previous summer, I had not been impressed by the dark little cell that would have to become Tom Badgerlock’s private chamber. Now, after a few months of sleeping in my quarters with the other guards, I realised that I had missed the small room, and missed sharing my living space with the Fool even more so. 

I had no Skill lesson scheduled that morning, and Garetha had warned me that the day after Jhenaqa was always quiet, so I wasn’t in a rush to get back to my duties. I stayed in bed for a while, replaying the events of the past evening in my head. 

I thought back on what I had learned about the Fool’s past and the close bonds he seemed to have had with his blood family. Picturing a young Fool making mischief was quite easy, because he had still been a child, or at least looked like a child, when he arrived at Buckkeep, but I was having a harder time realising that he had already lived a full life before we even met. I found myself wanting to know more about his childhood, and decided to ask him more about it when the time would be right.

And of course, I kept thinking about what he had said about us, and about how there was hope that he was beginning to forgive me. He had also called me Beloved again, for the first time in months. I knew that it was just a jest on his part, a pun with his name that he had used to embarrass me in the past. And yet, hearing him call me that had stirred something warm within my chest.

My eyes shot open when I heard some noise coming from the Fool’s bedchamber. So, he was awake too. I got on my feet and got dressed hurriedly, grateful that I had already had the presence of mind to fetch plain clothes in Chade’s old den.

I wondered how the Fool would feel about last night’s events. Embarrassed? Guilty? Ashamed? At the very least, I hoped that he would remember our conversation. I did not want to have to explain to him what I was doing in his chambers.

I left my room and noticed the light filtering below the door to Lord Golden’s bedchamber. I knocked.

‘Are you alright?’ I asked. 

I heard a groan in response.

‘Can I come in?’ I tried. I did not really need to, but I wanted to see him.

Another low sound, but this one definitely sounded more like assent.

I opened the door and had to let my eyes adjust to the bright summer light coming from the open shutters. The Fool was sitting upright on his bed, with his head between his hands and his knees drawn tight to his chest. He was still wearing his costume from yesterday, that now looked ruffled from a whole night of sleeping in it. He looked… awful. Or at least, as awful as it was possible for him to look, which was, truly, just a little more rumpled than usual. I approached slowly, gauging his reactions and trying not to scare him off, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention to me.

I sat down cautiously on the bed next to him.

‘Good morning,’ I said, and noticed how his hands tightened around his head at the sound of my voice. ‘Drank too much, perhaps?’

Again, a low growl was his only reply. I chuckled. ‘Serves you right, Fool. Let me get you something to alleviate the headache.’

I quickly got up to fetch a pitcher of fresh water and a clean cloth, and debated whether I should go down to the kitchens to bring the Fool something for breakfast, but eventually decided against it. Being in such a state, he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

I went back to find the Fool in pretty much the same position, except that he had let himself slide down the wall and was now lying on his side in a very dramatic effect.

‘Here,’ I said, handing him a cup of water. ‘Sit up and drink slowly.’

He frowned adorably but raised himself into a sitting position to drink his water diligently. 

‘Thank you,’ he muttered as he gave the cup back to me.

I used the remaining water in the pitcher to wet the cloth and held it close to his face. 

‘Can I..?’ I asked.

He nodded and I pressed the compress lightly to his forehead. I felt him stiffen at the touch, but he soon relaxed, closing his eyes and evidently enjoying the cold sensation on his burning brow. I gently moved the cloth to the side of his face and neck.

‘Is this alright?’ I ventured.

He nodded again, and neither of us spoke for a moment. After a while, he opened his eyes to stare back at me for the first time that morning. 

‘Thank you,’ he said again. ‘I’m feeling much better already.’

‘I’m glad you do.’

The silence stretched between us. The Fool’s expression was unreadable but his eyes were still on me.

‘So,’ I started. ‘What happened last night that made you drink that much? You’re not usually one for lacking caution.’

‘Oh believe me, I am,’ he retorted in a much more serious tone than his words required. ‘But I do apologise for my reckless behaviour. I don’t know what came over me last night. I guess I was just… confused, somehow.’ He bit his lower lip and the creases on his brow deepened.

‘What were you confused about?’ I insisted.

‘I don’t know,’ he said levelly, but his answer had been too quick for it not to be a lie. I tried a different approach.

‘What do you remember about what happened last night?’

‘Not much,’ he said, and again, I was convinced that he was lying to me. He tore his gaze away from mine to stare resolutely at the open window. He did not want to talk to me, fine. But that did not mean that I could not seize this opportunity to try and talk to him.

‘Fool, I was meaning to-’

Fitz?

Dutiful’s skilling interrupted me in mid-sentence.

Yes, my Prince?

My mother and Chade wish to speak to you. They’re asking you to meet them at the Seawatch tower at once.

I sighed. Chade’s summons had always been infuriatingly ill-timed, and today was no different. I would much rather have stayed with the Fool, but I knew that there was no avoiding it.

Alright, I’ll be right there.

I came back to my senses and noticed that the Fool was regarding me with a questioning look, his head cocked to the side. I realised that he was still waiting for me to finish my sentence.

‘I’m sorry, Dutiful was just skilling to me,’ I explained. ‘I'm being summoned by Kettricken and Chade. They want me to join them right away.’

A pensive frown formed on the Fool’s fair features.

‘So, what are you still doing sitting here?’

I want to stay with you, I thought. 

‘You’re not feeling well,’ I said instead.

‘Oh, I am sure that my headache is of capital importance compared to whatever it is the Queen and her High Councillor have to say to you,’ he mocked.

It certainly was to me, but saying that out loud would again put me at the end of one of his jests. ‘I guess I should go then,’ I conceded. ‘Thank you again for offering me to stay the night. If you need anything-’

‘I will get up and fetch it myself, thank you very much,’ he quipped. ‘Now run along, you don’t want to keep them waiting.’

I left reluctantly and climbed the several sets of stairs separating me from Verity’s tower. Chade and the Queen were already waiting. 

Chade raised an eyebrow at me.

‘No costume?’

I glared at him, but relaxed when Kettricken laughed.

‘Oh stop embarrassing him, Chade. You looked very fine yesterday, Fitz. I’m glad that you decided to take part in this tradition.’

‘Thank you, my Queen,’ I said warmly, but I did not want to dwell on the events of last night, so I went straight to the point. ‘Prince Dutiful told me that there was an urgent matter you wanted to talk to me about?’

The joyous expression on Kettricken’s face darkened instantly. ‘Yes, there is.’ She turned away from me, looking out at the sea. ‘Things are escalating with the Old Blood problem, on both parts. There have been two more reported lynchings in Farrow last week, and we’ve been receiving more and more threats from the Piebalds. In their last message, they are saying that their numbers are growing and that once they’ve rallied all the Witted to their cause, no one will be safe.’

‘They’ve threatened the Prince himself.’ Chade added soberly.

‘They have. But that is of little importance compared to the stability of the whole Kingdom,’ Kettricken interjected.

A grave silence echoed her words.

‘What can I do to help?’ I urged them. 

Kettricken turned back to me and gave me a sad smile. ‘My friend. I wish I could keep you out of this. I already asked for your help when Dutiful went missing, and-.’ She paused and lowered her eyes. ‘You have been through enough already.’

I answered with a smile of my own. ‘Kettricken. You yourself have sacrificed at least as much as I have.’ I thought of Rurisk, and of the eighteen-year-old young woman who had had to leave everything behind to marry a stranger and go live in a foreign court, only to have her husband and child taken away from her.

‘What we need, Fitz, are allies,’ Chade explained. ‘More precisely, Witted allies. I remember you mentioning in your accounts that you had spent some time in an Old Blood community.’

I nodded, already anticipating where this was going.

‘We would like you to reach out to them, and expose the situation,’ he continued. ‘See if they would be willing to come to Buckkeep to work with us in order to find a solution that suits everyone’s interest.’

‘We need the Old Blood community to understand that we want them to have a say in this,’ Kettricken added.

‘I very much doubt that they would be willing to risk coming out of their hiding place,’ I mused. 

‘I know,' Kettricken sighed. 'But we have to try. And we want the people of the Six Duchies, Witted or not, to know of our efforts to establish a dialogue.’

I opened my mouth to protest but Kettricken cut me off. ‘We’re not asking you to disclose the Old Blood community’s location, of course. The official story will be that the Farseer crown has decided to send an emissary to assess the changes brought by the royal decree prohibiting Witted executions in Buck. The true purpose of the mission however, will be what we’ve explained earlier, that is, for you to reach out privately to the Old Blood community.’

‘I understand,’ I said. ‘But you can hardly send a mere guard as your emissary, can you?'

Chade scoffed. 'Who do you take us for, my boy? Lord Golden will be the official emissary, of course. He’s already professed an interest in the Wit in the past, and as an adventurous Jamaillian who doesn’t share the Six Duchies’ hostile views towards this magic, he is the ideal candidate for this errand. As for you, you will just have to resume your old duties as his bodyguard.’

The plan was well thought out. Despite the gravity of the situation, I could not help the excitement that surged through me at the idea of finally spending some time alone with the Fool, away from the Buckkeep court and the army of nobles always swarming around Lord Golden. But the matter was a serious one, so I tried to not let my elation show on my face as I asked.

‘When are we leaving?’

‘As soon as you can.’ Chade replied. ‘The latest Piebald threat is already a few days old, so leaving today would be ideal.’

I thought of the Fool's state when I had left him earlier this morning and winced. 

‘Today won't work. Lord Golden is not feeling well.’

Chade narrowed his eyes at me.

‘And how would you know? I thought you two had had a falling-out.’

‘We did,’ I conceded. ‘But we are working on it. I saw him earlier today, and he was looking ill. But tomorrow should be fine. I will let him know about our mission right away.’

‘No need, Fitz,’ Chade announced. ‘I will tell him about it later myself. I still need to discuss the details of your cover story with him.’

I would have welcomed the excuse to go back to check on him, but I let it go, knowing that we would have plenty of time to talk in the days to come. I caught myself wishing for this day to pass quickly, so that the Fool and I could be on our way.

I nodded, and turned back on my heels to prepare for the journey.

Chapter Text

The sun was just starting to peek out from behind the horizon when we left Buckkeep. 

Chade had advised us to leave early, to avoid focusing too much attention on ourselves. Our cover mission wasn’t exactly a secret, but Lord Golden was to be the Queen's eyes and ears in making sure that a rather unpopular decree was being followed. Given the particularly hostile sentiments that were brewing against Witted people these days, we didn't want to take any chances.

We left the castle through the west gate, where no guards stopped us or were even in sight. I was yet again appalled at this additional evidence of laxity regarding who came in and out of the keep. I resolved to talk to Chade about it, though I doubted that his answer would be any different from the one he’d already given me. We weren’t at war anymore. I set the matter out of my mind. 

From there, we advanced through the rolling hills sheltered behind the castle until we entered the forest. The path was narrow and the vegetation around us dense. If ever someone was trying to follow us, they would have to either venture closer and chance being overheard, or keep their distance and risk having us lose them. 

The gentle days of spring were well behind us and I was glad of the temporary shelter that the pinewoods provided. I had made sure to trade my thick guardsman uniform for lighter travel clothes and under the thick foliage of the overarching trees, the stuffy heat that we’d had to suffer through for the last few weeks became a mere unpleasant memory. 

We soon emerged from the forest, and followed the gritty path winding downhill to the riverside. The goal of our journey was Crowsneck, a little town sitting on the Buck River just before the border with Farrow. This was where I had first encountered Black Rolf, when I was on my way to Tradeford Hall to kill my traitorous uncle Regal. I had returned two years later, to take Rolf up on his offer of staying with their community to learn more about Old Blood customs. This was the first time that I would make the journey on a horse, rather than on foot. And without Nighteyes. 

Before I had time to dwell on the thought, I nudged Myblack forward to keep pace with the Fool, who hadn’t said a word to me since we’d left Buckkeep Castle. We had to keep up the pretence at being Lord and manservant, but when I looked around us, no one was in sight. The next town was still a few hours ahead of us, and it was probably still too early in the day for there to be many travellers on the road. 

Lord Golden was sitting on his horse with a grace and self-assurance that conveyed his supposed station just as much as his aristocratic attire did. When he sensed my gaze on him, he turned his head and frowned questioningly at me.

‘Is there something wrong, Tom?’

I shrugged. ‘No. And I haven't heard anything from Dutiful since we left.’

He nodded curtly but when he didn’t react further to my attempt at striking a conversation, I tried again.

‘The last time I took this exact route, the countryside was swarming with Forged ones.’

I saw him pinch his lips out of the corner of my eye.

‘I am grateful that these days are behind us,’ he said quietly.

‘I am too. And that I’m travelling with you instead of setting out to try and kill Regal.’

The Fool’s eyes widened and he reined his horse closer to mine. He leaned slightly towards me.

‘Fitz. You have to be more careful. Someone might overhear us.’ I almost didn’t catch his whisper over the noise of our horses’ hooves. 

I frowned and gestured at the empty landscape around us. ‘It’s just us, Fool.’

He shook his head. ‘Still. You said yourself that the Piebalds could use their bond animals as spies. I am not willing to take the slightest risk.’

He clicked his tongue and Malta sprang forward, resuming the proper riding distance between master and servant. I struggled to prevent Myblack from catching up with the other horse. 

I wondered if the Fool was truly worried about the risks that us talking freely could present, or if he was still uncomfortable about what had transpired between us during Jhenaqa.

I sighed. I had been looking forward to being alone with him for this journey. The last time we had been travelling together, Laurel had been with us. We’d had to keep with our roles then, though I knew that we hadn’t managed to fool her for long. I had thought that this mission would be the perfect occasion for us to be friends again, but it looked like it wasn’t going to happen. Ever since our quarrel, it seemed like every step forward in our relationship was followed by half a step backward.

Again, I exhorted myself to patience and tried to find comfort in replaying the events from the masquerade evening again in my mind. 

We were making good time and reached the first town on our journey before the sun had even reached its zenith. Lord Golden bought two cheese pies for us from a fancy-looking food stall, and the thanks I gave him were genuine. I had brought enough travel rations to last us for the way to and back from Crowsneck, but dried meat and stale bread weren’t exactly the most appetising lunch when one had spent the past several hours riding on horseback. 

We stopped at the town hall, and Lord Golden dismounted, ordering me to wait for him in front of the building. One of his duties as royal emissary to Queen Kettricken was making sure that the decree was displayed where it was supposed to, either inside the town hall or above the hearth of the main tavern of every town in Buck. It had also been decided that Lord Golden would demand to examine the list of executions that had taken place in the last six months. The document was supposed to detail the name, age and occupation of the offender, as well as the account of their crime. Lord Golden was then supposed to compile a list of suspicious executions, if he found any, and bring it back to Queen Kettricken. He was allowed to make discreet enquiries to try and learn more about what had truly happened, but royal investigators would come later. Kettricken herself had signed Lord Golden’s mandate, a document that he would carry with him at all times during this journey, to prove that he had been given power to speak in the Crown’s name.

This emissary business was the cover story Chade had come up with to allow us to reach Crowsneck without arousing suspicion and endangering the Old Blood community, but I knew that in truth, Kettricken was far from considering this a trivial matter. She had been anxious to know if her recent decree had been followed, and she was longing to show her Witted folk that progress had been made, and that injustice was no longer left unpunished. 

I was still mulling over these thoughts when Lord Golden came out of the town hall with a satisfied air.

‘All clear, Badgerlock,’ he stated.

I held Malta’s reins while he mounted her, and we were yet again on our way. 

The rest of the journey proceeded smoothly and in a similar fashion. Twice or thrice a day, we would pass through a town or village, and Lord Golden would stop at the town hall or tavern to conduct his investigation. After a heated exchange with a particularly uncooperative innkeeper, who stated that he owed no explanation to a foreign emissary, nor a foreign Queen, we agreed tacitly that I wouldn’t leave Lord Golden’s side during his inquiries. I was surprised to realise that Kettricken’s decree seemed to have been followed. Privately, I wondered if some towns hadn't been warned of our coming beforehand, allowing them to hastily set up the decree and purge their registers of any suspicious execution. But there was no way for us to know, so I didn't voice the thought.

We did find a questionable case on the second day, where the register for Cobblecott stated that a woman had been sentenced to death for theft. What both Lord Golden and I found peculiar, was that neither the manner of execution nor what the woman had stolen and from whom were recorded anywhere. When Lord Golden asked one of the local officials about it, the man stumbled through his explanation and when Lord Golden remarked that death wasn’t the usual punishment for the small theft he was describing, he said that he’d forgotten to mention that the convict had also injured the merchant gravely. Lord Golden then asked for the merchant's name and description, and I immediately recognised one of the people we had seen at the marketplace earlier. The old woman hadn't seemed the least bit injured, despite the incident having supposedly happened only a few days prior. We were careful to write down our suspicions after leaving the city, so the Queen could later send her own investigators to Cobblecott. 

After this incident, the Fool seemed to be in a somber mood and when I dared to ask him about it, his answer came through gritted teeth.

‘I hate this. This woman probably hadn’t done anything wrong.’ 

‘Probably not,’ I conceded. ‘But there’s nothing we could have done.’

‘I know that,’ he said impatiently, then seemed to hear the harshness in his own voice and tried to soften it. ‘I’m sorry. I know this must be much harder for you.’

He gave me a sad smile that looked more like a wince, and again, put some distance between our horses.

Thanks to Lord Golden’s status and purse, we were able to sleep comfortably at night, often in the best inn we could find in the town we’d had to stop in. The bustling trade on the Buck river made it so that a lot of towns had been built alongside it, and since the end of the war, most of them had prospered and grown in size and population.

Apart from when we conferred about a case, or practical matters like food or directions, the Fool remained frustratingly silent around me. I tried to not let it get to me but by the time we finally arrived in Crowsneck at the end of the afternoon of the fourth day, I was in low spirits. The memories that the town brought back didn’t help. I had been seventeen the first time I came here, and on my way to Tradeford. I had wanted to keep a low profile but seeing a drunkard get beaten savagely by City Guards had prompted me to take action and led me to discover both the existence of the Old Blood community, and also the extent of my ignorance in a magic that I’d considered my own. 

Nighteyes and I had decided to come back almost two years later, on our way back from the Mountain Kingdom. I hadn’t left the community on the best of terms with everyone. I had gotten close with Holly, Rolf’s wife, and despite there having been no attachment of that sort between us, I’d often felt the sting of his jealousy. I had also never been willing to accept Old Blood customs completely, just like Rolf had never looked on my close bond with Nighteyes with a favourable eye. In the end, we had decided to leave after only a short year spent with the Old Blood. A few months ago, I had learned from Chade of Black Rolf's passing, which I was sorry for. Despite our differences, Black Rolf had instructed Nighteyes and me on the ways of the Old Blood. He’d been a harsh teacher, but he’d taught us a great many things, like how to focus our thoughts on each other instead of conversing carelessly and for everyone to hear. This knowledge, I realised, had been invaluable in helping us recover Dutiful from the Piebalds’ clutches.

I wondered how Holly fared with her husband gone. She had always been quiet and solitary by nature, and I did not doubt that she had found a way to adapt. She had been kind to me during my stay, the only true friend I’d had in the community. Despite the nature of my visit and the secrecy surrounding it, I found myself looking forward to seeing her again. 

Crowsneck was both like and unlike what I remembered. The town had struggled during the days of the Red Ship wars, and I had already noticed a big improvement the last time I was here. Now, it looked like it was not only prospering, but truly flourishing. The town seemed much bigger than I remembered, and its people more finely dressed. Crowsneck was ideally located on Buck river, near the mouth of the Vin river that went all the way up to wealthy Tradeford. It had always been a strategic trading spot, especially for goods that came from the Mountain Kingdom, like amber and silver jewels or rich jeppa wool. The fact that the current regent Queen was Mountain born had helped in this regard, and trade was booming between her native kingdom and the Six Duchies.

Lord Golden selected an inn for us, near the east gate and the road that led to the riverbank. The location wasn't chosen at random: it would make it easier for me to sneak out of town unnoticed. I entrusted Malta and Myblack to the hostler while Lord Golden inquired after a room for us. He was assured that the inn’s finest chambers were still available, fit for a fashionable and wealthy young noble like Lord Golden. 

The woman hadn’t lied. The room was lavishly decorated and brightly coloured, not at all what I’d expected to find in a river road town inn. Tom Badgerlock’s room, however, was every bit as good as the little cell adjoining Lord Golden’s chambers in Buckkeep Castle. Still, I glanced at the bed with longing. After nearly four whole days of travelling, even a servant’s narrow cot looked appealing to me. Unfortunately, I knew I wouldn’t have much time to rest, since I wasn’t planning on staying long.

We had agreed that I would leave as soon as we settled in Crowsneck. Lord Golden would go about his duties at the town hall and I would sneak out of town, hopefully without arousing attention. I didn’t intend to linger with the Old Blood. I had planned on meeting Lord Golden back at the inn after I was finished, hopefully with good news to bring back to our Queen.

I changed from my light travel clothes into sturdier ones, with several sewn-in pockets for my poisons and blades. I didn’t really expect to have to use them, but my last encounters with my own kind had made me a cautious man. There was no telling if the Old Blood community had turned Piebald. 

When I met Lord Golden in the common chamber, he had also changed into more appropriate clothes. Crowsneck was the biggest city out of all we had passed through so far, and it was expected of a Queen’s emissary on his first mission to try and make a big impression. I knew that the Fool's natural charm alone could allow him to get on anybody’s good side, but fine clothes and a fair face could only help him further. Chade and him had decided that for this trip, Lord Golden needed to look a little less Jamaillian in order to be taken seriously as an appointed emissary for the Six Duchies. The cut of the clothes he was wearing now was definitely Duchian, but as always, Lord Golden radiated an allure that seemed almost otherworldly. His usual face scaling and loose golden-yellow ringlets were replaced by a more subdued makeup and hairstyle, that I knew was currently popular among young noblemen from the southern Duchies.

‘You look perfect,’ I observed before I could stop myself.  

His eyebrows shot up and he gave me an unsure look before turning away from me, but not fast enough to conceal the slight blush spreading on his cheeks. I bit back a grin as I watched him cross the room and lay a gloved hand on the doorknob. 

‘Are you ready?’

I nodded. ‘Be careful,’ I added, thinking back on the incident with the innkeeper on the first day.

He inclined his head gravely. ‘You too.’

I saw him take a deep breath and, like a puppeteer fitting his hand in a puppet, Lord Golden came to life in his features and posture. He opened the door a crack. 

‘I won’t have any more need of you this afternoon and evening, Badgerlock. You are released from your duties until tomorrow morning. But make sure to be back by then.’

‘I will,’ Tom Badgerlock assured. ‘Thank you, my Lord.’

I followed him out of our chambers and we went on our separate ways. 

Chapter Text

I managed to slip out of the city without trouble and without being seen, or so I hoped, for with the long days of summer, I couldn't count on the shadows of the early evening to conceal me completely.

The Old Blood community lived on the outskirts of Crowsneck, hidden in the forest surmounting the east side of the Buck river.

The first time I’d found out about them, I had been surprised at their boldness. For them to live so close to a town swarming with people who would not hesitate for a second to condemn them to a horrible death had seemed incredibly daring to me. I had, however, soon come to understand that their choice was as much practical as strategical. Living close to a town such as Crowsneck allowed them not only to pose as travelling merchants, it also protected them. Rolf had once told me that people were less likely to believe that what they were looking for was right in front of them all along. He had probably been right, since their community had managed to remain hidden for decades. 

As I wended the narrow path that went up the river shoal and through the willow forest, the nature around me was eerily silent, and I could not help the uneasy feeling that stirred in my gut. I soon reached the hillside where Rolf and Holly’s small cabin was, and the feeling intensified. The place was obviously deserted, and had been for some time. The stink of bear that had always lingered around the place when Rolf was here was obviously no more, but it went beyond that. The turf roof had collapsed in on itself, showing the inside of a cabin emptied of its contents. I knew that Rolf had died three years prior, but Chade had told me nothing about Holly. Had she, too, fallen ill and passed?

I decided to further my investigation. The community wasn't big, and consisted of five families the last time I was here. They refused to live in close proximity to each other and were scattered across the forest, but not too far apart that they weren't at a walking distance of both Crowsneck and each other. I was confident that I remembered where everyone’s home was, and I made for the one I knew was closest to Rolf and Holly's cabin.

There weren't any real paths in the forest. Members of the community made sure to avoid taking the same route twice in a row when going from one home to another. In case one of them was found out and arrested, they didn't want to make it easy for their attackers to catch the rest of the community. As I trudged forward, I still couldn't hear anything, but noticed small signs of life, a basket of truffles poorly hidden under a bush or an axe still lodged in a tree. But of humans and their Wit beasts, I saw or heard no sign. It was, in a way, the opposite of the experience I had had in the Elderling city, back in the Mountains. Then, a place that appeared dead to me was still beaming with ghost-life when here, a forest that was obviously populated was almost dead to my senses. 

I was following the river that wrapped around the hill, and soon came upon the clay bank where I remembered Arda lived. 

Arda and her family were skilled potters. I hadn't been especially close to any of them, but since Holly was good friends with Arda, I had gotten to see her often during my stay. I was hoping that my impromptu visit wouldn't be taken amiss, and that I hadn't changed so much that she wouldn't recognise me. I had been a young man just out of my teenage years when she’d known me. I still bore the same scars and white lock, but Tom Badgerlock was now easily passing for a forty-two-year-old man. 

Their cabin, built with logs and branches in a way similar to an otter’s holt, was still there, but the shutters were closed, though the evening was still young. I sighed in relief when my Wit told me that someone was in the cabin. I avoided stepping on fresh clay and discarded pieces of pottery, and knocked.

‘Arda, are you here?’ When no one answered, I tried again. ‘Arda? It's Tom. I was a friend of Holly’s.’

After a few seconds, I heard a latch from inside the cabin. The door opened a crack and a look of recognition came on Arda’s face. She swept the door open to face me. Apart from a few more wrinkles around her eyes, and more white hair than I recalled, the slender woman hadn't changed much.

‘Old Blood greets Old Blood,’ I began, but her rigid posture didn't loosen. She nodded curtly and I couldn’t help but notice that she wasn't inviting me inside. There followed a stiff silence, as she kept casting quick glances behind me, like she was expecting someone else to appear. ‘I came alone,’ I clarified, and that seemed to mollify her a bit. 

She finally gave me the usual words of greetings, though through strained lips. ‘Old Blood welcomes Old Blood.’ She then seemed to study me for a few seconds before a somber look fell over her face. ‘My condolences.’

I froze. With everything happening with the Fool and at the Farseer court, I had managed to avoid thinking about my loss, and I had no desire to change that now. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and changed the subject.

‘I was hoping to see Rolf and Holly, but their cabin was empty.’

She gave me a sad smile that told me that she knew exactly what I was doing, but answered all the same.

‘Rolf died, three years ago.’

I wasn’t supposed to know about his passing, so I tried to look shocked. 

‘What happened?’

‘He caught a fever. A nasty one.’ I knew that Rolf and Arda hadn’t been particularly close, but there was still genuine regret in her voice when she added. ‘A week later, we were putting him in the ground.’

I didn't have to fake my concern when I asked. ‘And Holly?’

‘Holly caught it too, but she survived,’ Arda explained. ‘Rolf's death hit her hard, but Sleet's was even harder.’ She paused and seemed to be thinking hard on what she was about to say next. In the end, she merely shook her head. ‘I don't have to tell you about it.’

She didn't.

‘When did it happen?’

‘Two years ago. It was his time.’

I nodded, but uneasiness coiled up inside me. For some reason, picturing Holly without Sleet was much harder than without Rolf. There had been much of the hawk in the quiet and observant woman, and I had seldom seen one without the other close-by. I had never felt any particular connection to birds, but a sort of quiet understanding and respect had always flowed effortlessly between me and Sleet. Back when I was wandering across the plains of Farrow on my way to Tradeford, the hawk had found me, and brought me a message from Holly and Rolf, to warn me that Regal knew of my survival. Sleet had been in his prime already at the time, but hearing of his passing still came as a shock, like there wasn’t supposed to be a Holly without a Sleet. I reined in my thoughts before they could take me to places I didn’t want to explore.

I cleared my throat. ‘So, Holly left?’

‘She did,’ Arda confirmed. 'She lost her companion beast and her husband in less than a year. You know how strong Holly is, but few people could take such hard blows and carry on with their lives as before. She needed a big change.’

I nodded, understanding what she meant. ‘Did she find another Old Blood community to settle in?’

Arda shook her head. ‘She established herself as a thatcher in Timberrock.’

The astonishment I felt must have shown on my face. For an Old Blood to leave the community completely was almost unheard of, as far as I could remember. They traded with other people to make a living, but the idea of living in a town, a place so crowded and devoid of any connection to nature, repulsed them. Most members of the Old Blood community in Crowsneck came from lines that had always observed Old Blood customs and I knew that their aversion for city life ran deeper than just practical matters. The unBlooded, as they referred to people without the Wit, had always been a mystery to them. Not having the Wit was often compared to blindness or deafness, and some Witted folk even considered the unBlooded incomplete, or even cursed. Holly had never seemed to share that way of thinking, but I was still having trouble picturing her mingling with ordinary town-dwellers.

Arda’s words interrupted my musings. ‘Last I heard, she was doing well for herself. And she’s braver than I could ever be.’ She sighed, and then added. 'I’m sorry you came for nothing, Tom.’

‘Maybe not for nothing. I came to see all of you,’ I explained. ‘There's... something I want to ask of the community.’

‘What kind of thing?’

I took a deep breath. This was going to be the difficult part.

‘I am actually on a mission. For the Farseer crown.’ Anger flared up on Arda’s face and I amended my words before she could open her mouth. ‘You have nothing to worry about, I haven't told them anything specific about the community. They just know that I’m Old Blood, and that I spent some time with people of my kind, long ago.’ I was lying through my teeth. Chade had read my reports and knew exactly where he could find them if he wanted to. ‘They wanted me to convey a message to you. Queen Kettricken has been intent on putting an end to our persecution.’ That last part, at least, was the truth.

‘I’ve been hearing about that,’ Arda admitted, albeit with obvious reluctance. ‘Tom, I don’t think this is a good idea. Everyone has been on their guard lately, even more than usual.’

‘I understand,’ I said, and I did. Hostility against Witted people had been raised to a new high lately because of the Piebalds, and I wasn’t surprised to hear that the community had also been affected. ‘I just need you to hear me out.’

She crossed her arms and seemed to be thinking about it while looking me up and chewing on the inside of her cheeks. ‘Fine,’ she finally said. ‘I know that Holly trusted you so for her sake, I will hear your message. But I can’t be the only one making decisions for the community. I need to gather everyone.’

I nodded. She went back inside and I could hear her rummaging through her things. When she reappeared, she was wearing a short linen cape and holding a walking stick, that I suspected was more to help her walk swiftly than provide any needed support. Again, she didn’t invite me inside, but told me to wait for her as she left in the direction of Ollie’s house. Him and his family were bonded to crows, which often proved useful whenever someone had words that needed to travel quickly among the community.

She was gone for much longer than I anticipated, but I didn’t dare venture too far from her cabin. I knew that the fact that I was being sent by the Farseers would already get the community to be wary of me, so I didn’t want to chance being caught sniffing around. I found a dry spot by the river to lie down and get some rest while I could.

Night was already drawing in when Arda returned with a man that I recognised as her husband Doran. The way he was looking at me made it clear that he didn't trust me, but they still motioned for me to follow them further into the forest, until we reached the clearing which served as a meeting place, where members of the community gathered to trade with one another.

People were already there, conversing quietly. I immediately noticed two groups who, I surmised, were newcomers. It wasn't rare for Old Blood folk from other communities to seek a group that suited the lifestyle of their bond animal better. A daughter of a family of Witted fisherfolk for example, would be advised to leave her family and join a group of forest-dwellers if she suddenly found herself bonded to a marten. The same had probably happened there.

They all fell silent as soon as I came into view. I raised my hand in greeting, but was met by frowns and wary gazes. The tension in the air was almost strong enough to taste. And yet, none of these things were what suddenly made me feel sick. 

Everyone had come with their Wit-partner. Witted people can tell at a glance when a human and an animal are bonded, for the sense of communion links the two together as clearly as if a thread was strung between them. Arda and Doran’s otters were sprawled across the ground at the edge of the clearing, sharing a fat trout between themselves. In front of me, a young woman was kneeling by her badger, while the old man behind her had a mink curled around his neck. A song-owl and a pair of thrushes were circling above us and I could feel the prickling of the Wit emanating from larger animals in the shadow of the trees. I was surrounded by them all and no matter where I looked, everyone of age was bonded. And whole.

My knees trembled and I screwed my eyes shut to avoid having to face this reminder of how lonely I was. A small part of me was chastising myself for getting distracted, but a much bigger, louder part was simply crushed by the knowledge that I had lost a part of my soul. I knew that there would be no other after Nighteyes, and that I would never again bask in the feeling of complete rightness that was displayed in front of me. 

‘Tom?’ Arda urged.

I took a deep breath and tried to slow my fast-beating heart, focusing on why I was here, what I had to say and how best to say it. 

I launched into an explanation of my reasons for being here. I started by telling them that I had a message from the Queen, and voices immediately started to rise, but Arda silenced them with a stern look. I told them about the Piebalds and some of them shook their heads in regret when I spoke of the people that they had killed after exposing their magic. I told them about the royal decree in Buck, and how I'd spent the journey to Crowsneck confirming that the river road towns were almost all abiding by the new rules. I told them about Kettricken, our Queen with a kind and just heart, who bled for her Witted folk. And I told them that the said Queen was now asking for them to come forward and bring her their support.

I had nearly finished when I was interrupted by a sharp. ‘No.’

I turned my head towards the voice and recognised Twinet, with her crow Milat perched on her shoulder.

Back when I was staying with the community, I had enjoyed spending time with Twinet. She’d had a merry and outgoing nature that made her easy to talk to and pleasant to be around. I could recognise none of that in the woman who was looking at me now. Distrust was screaming from her posture and piercing gaze that bore into me. 

‘Twinet, I am only asking-’

‘I know what you're asking,’ she snapped. ‘You are asking us to expose ourselves and help this Queen. She wants the Witted -’ the word was said with no small amount of distaste ‘- to help her fight the Piebalds. And why wouldn't she?’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘If we are pitted against each other, it makes it easier to be rid of us entirely.’

Anger flared up in me. ‘You misunderstand the Queen's intentions, Twinet. She does want you as her allies, but she is doing everything in her power to put an end to our persecution. She is merely asking you to join the fight against our common enemy. The Piebalds.’

Twinet’s face creased into a frown. ‘The Piebalds are not our enemy.’

A sudden chill went down my spine. Had the community turned Piebald? In gathering here with all of them, had I been lured into a trap? My blades and poisons were suddenly a reassuring sensation against my skin, and no longer an unnecessary precaution.

Twinet seemed to sense my panic, and she amended her words, though with obvious contempt. ‘None of us here are Piebalds if that is what you’re worried about. We are Old Blood, and we will always remain Old Blood.’

‘So the Piebalds are your enemy,’ I insisted. ‘Can’t you see, Twinet? The Piebalds are to blame for the recent increase in executions. They threaten and coerce their own kind, and when people refuse to become their puppets, they expose them and their families.’

Twinet's look hardened. ‘They do all that. But you seem to forget, Tom, that the Piebalds aren’t the ones sliding the noose around our neck. Tell me, who wields the knife that cuts our kind into quarters? Who brings the wood to fuel the fire that burns our mothers and fathers, our siblings, our lovers?’ Tears stood in her eyes. ‘Do you remember Rellie, Tom? A few months ago, she left to visit her brother who lives near the coast. She never came back. Word reached us just last week that she was arrested on her way back. They killed her.’ Angry tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, but she paid them no mind. ‘The unBlooded did this. Not the Piebalds.’

My heart sank in my chest. Some time ago, I had seen the name Relditha Cane appear on a list of people who had been executed because of their true or supposed use of the Wit, but I had refused to believe that she had been the woman I had known as Rellie here. 

The worst part was that I understood Twinet's logic. The Piebalds’ threats on other Witted folk could only work so long as people were still willing to kill them for the sole crime of being Witted. Why should the community risk fighting an enemy when it meant exposing themselves to an even bigger, more dangerous one?

‘I didn’t know about Rellie. I am truly sorry,’ I said lamely. ‘But if you came forward I can promise you that the Queen would protect you and see that no harm comes to you.’

‘And how would she do that?’ I recognised the man who had spoken as Ollie, Twinet's father. ‘She can protect us while we're at Buckkeep, but would she have guards escort us all the way back here? And once they’re gone? How would she prevent the people of Crowsneck from slaughtering us once rumours reach them and they realise who we are?’

‘It wouldn't come to that,’ I assured, but could give him no further words of reassurance, because in truth, I had no idea how Kettricken had planned to ensure the safety of her Witted allies.

A stormy discussion ensued, in which I tried to make them see why it was necessary for the Old Blood to take action if they really wanted the situation to improve, to which I was told that the situation wasn’t their responsibility since they had done nothing wrong in the first place. They simply weren’t willing to risk their lives and that of their loved ones for a hypothetical betterment of their condition. 

The exchange turned heated when I brought up the trouble the Piebalds were causing for the Farseer crown, and I was forced to confront just how deeply distrust for the Crown was running amongst the Old Blood. I knew that they had little reason to love the Farseers, who hadn't really done anything to protect them, but it went further than that. They held them personally responsible for their fate. At some point, the old man with the mink launched into a tirade about Charger Farseer, the Piebald Prince, unjustly killed by his power-hungry cousin and whose name was still dragged through the mud to this day. My blood turned to ice when he added that the hatred for Old Blood ran just as strong in the Farseer line now, since they had not hesitated to kill one of their own, Chivalry's own bastard son, because of his magic. The frustration I felt was quickly being replaced by despair. Kettricken was the only monarch in centuries who was genuinely sympathetic to their cause, and they weren’t even willing to give her a chance. She had entrusted this mission to me but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find a way to get through to them. If they refused, I didn’t know what further measures Chade and Kettricken could take to counter the Piebald menace. The threat on Dutiful’s throne and life would remain. 

‘Can’t you at least agree to meet with her?’ I urged them one last time and, remembering the words Hilda had used on me to get me to help Black Rolf the first time I met him, I tried. ‘Old Blood asks of Old Blood.’

Twinet regarded me levelly. 

‘Old Blood does not turn on Old Blood,’ she conceded. ‘But you were never truly one of us.’

Silence held after her words and I knew then, that I had lost. 

The night was deep and the light of the moon didn’t shine my way under the dense cover of the trees. Without Nighteyes to guide me, I was blind, but I kept walking. I stumbled on roots and felt the slap of small branches hitting my face but still, I kept walking, putting as much distance between them and me as I could. 

I had left shortly after Twinet’s harsh words were slung at me. My mission had been a complete and utter failure, just like so many things in my life lately, I reflected bitterly. If my wolf had been with me, he would have probably rebuked my wallowing in self-pity, but him not being there was precisely the problem. 

Nighteyes wasn’t there anymore. 

Never had I been forced to confront the sheer depth of my loss more than I’d had to tonight. I had believed myself to have grown accustomed to the pain. In Buckkeep, where no one was openly Witted, it was easy to forget that being bonded to an animal had always been as essential to me as breathing. I had survived the losses of Nosy and Smithy, but losing my wolf had plunged me into a whole new abyss of misery and isolation. 

More than alone, my confrontation with the Old Blood had made me feel like an outcast. My Wit had always been reviled as something filthy, a dirty vice I indulged in, and it had been a true comfort to finally meet people like me. I had never managed to completely fit in within the community, but at least, it had felt like we shared a profound sense of understanding and acceptance of ourselves. There weren't any other places in the world where I hadn't had to hide my magic, and tonight had shown that I wasn’t welcome there anymore. My mood turned as dark and gloomy as the surrounding woods as I mulled over these depressing thoughts. 

At some point, I realised that I must have gotten turned around, but weariness outweighed any sense of worry that getting lost could have awakened in me. By chance, I soon struck a game trail that led me to the river, and I walked alongside it until I emerged into the sandbank I had entered the forest from.

The east gate was already shut for the night but I couldn’t see any guards keeping watch. The town walls were more relics of a troubled past than real protection against unlikely threats, so it was easy enough for me to find a lower section of the wall and climb past it silently. 

I followed the paved road that led me to our inn. I couldn’t believe that only a few hours had passed since I had last been here, for I felt years older. 

I found that I was too weary to put on the act of a drunk servant like I usually did when I had to justify coming back in the middle of the night. I settled for slipping in from the back door and quietly climbing the stairs that led to our chambers. The Fool had said that he would wait for my report, but given the late hour, he would probably be asleep already, so I didn’t bother knocking and made quick work of the simple lock.

The Fool had waited for me. He had changed into simpler clothes, an ample cotton shirt and a tight-fitting hose, and was sitting cross legged on the floor by the empty hearth. By the faint light of his burning candle, I could see him carving a small piece of wood with a wistful smile on his face. The familiarity and peacefulness of the scene compared to what I had just gone through almost managed to bring me to tears.

Warm flames of golden candlelight were flickering in his eyes as he raised them to meet mine. 

‘How did it go?’

My admission of defeat got stuck in my throat, and I merely shook my head at him.

He sighed. ‘Well. I can’t say that it’s much of a surprise. Or that I don't understand.’ He pinched his lips. ‘You tried, at least.’

I nodded but could find nothing to say, so I shrugged dejectedly and looked aside. The pressure that had been slightly lifted when I'd caught sight of the Fool was weighing on me again.

‘Fitz?’ The voice sounded close to me. ‘What happened?’

The Fool must have stood up and walked over without me realising it, which was telling as to how far into myself I had retreated. His tools laid discarded on the floor and he was looking at me intently. The level of worry I could discern in his voice jolted me out of my misery. 

I shook my head again. ‘It’s nothing. I just feel-’ My voice broke slightly and I tried to clear my throat but I didn’t want to risk sounding like I was about to have a breakdown so I kept my mouth shut. 

I let out a quiet breath as the Fool laid his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. 

‘Talk to me,’ he said softly.

I tore my eyes away from his anxious gaze. For some reason, it was easier to talk when I wasn’t looking directly at him. ‘I don't know, Fool. I think going back there was a mistake,’ I explained in a voice that sounded weak and trembling even to my ears. ‘Seeing them all again now that I am-’ I swallowed. ‘alone. It made me feel...’

I almost wept with gratitude when the Fool didn’t urge me to finish the sentence. He let go of my shoulder and pulled me gently against him, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned my head on his shoulder and allowed my tears to flow and cleanse my soul. 

We didn't talk and the Fool offered me no useless platitudes. The thought that this was the first time I was allowing myself to mourn in front of him since Nighteyes had passed crossed my mind, and with it, the certainty that it was long overdue. That this was something we needed to do together. He held me, his long fingers stroking my hair and his low voice sometimes humming melodies that sounded almost familiar to me. It didn’t feel like he was waiting for me to break our embrace, so I didn’t, and I opened myself to all the feelings I had tried to silence earlier. How Holly’s loss had reminded me of my own. How much it hurt to be rejected, again. How lonely I would feel without my wolf, for the rest of my life. I allowed myself to feel those feelings because in the shelter of the Fool’s arms, I knew that things would eventually be alright. 

Because as long as the Fool was there, alive and close, the other half of my heart was still safe.