After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 26

A Vow

Notes:

My sincerest apologies for not posting last night! The chapter was not ready and kind of just...ick...and I'm still not in love with it, but it's better than before! So, in that, I suppose I'm sorry as well, because the writing quality isn't quite what I'd like it to be but...oh well.

Anyway in other notes, you'll "see" them riding into Glipwood in this chapter, and I've described the "entrance" to Glipwood as being a bridge, similar to how it is in the animated series. This is largely because the layout of the town according to the map in OtEotDSoD is kind of wonky, so while I've used that for things like placement of businesses and streets, I just used the art provided by the series for other parts of the town 😅

*****

Artham forced himself to ride Garner slower than for which he felt as though the situation called. If he really thought about it, Janner’s life was not in danger at that moment, whereas in the past few weeks, it actually might have been, but for some odd reason, that did not relieve his need for urgency. 

When he emerged from the forest, his arm gently but firmly around Janner’s midsection, holding him so he wouldn’t fall,  Artham had determined that between the two options that lay before him—the first taking Janner back to Glipwood, potentially needing to ride out and alert Jebsun and Sara; the second riding out to the cottage and meeting them, then heading back to Glipwood—there was not truly a better option. He had gone over each option mentally, all flawed in one way or another. Now he had to choose, and likely incorrectly. 

He hated choosing. 

Garner decided for him, though, when pricked his ears up and the sound of a not-too-distant whinny drifted on the wind. Sighing with relief and whispering a brief thanks to the Maker, Artham urged Garner toward the sound belonging to one of the horses he could just barely make out in the distance: Lightfoot, he was sure of it. 

Certainty mounted as he drew nearer, the figures of Sara and Jebsun on their respective horses becoming clearer. They were ahead of him on their way back to Glipwood, and it took all Artham’s willpower not to call out to them as he wanted in both joy and urgency. Such a sound could very well have terrorized Janner into consciousness, and the last thing he wanted was to cause his nephew any other forms of trauma upon waking. 

As such, it wasn’t until he was close enough that they could hear Garner’s hoofbeats that Sara turned in her seat, her brow furrowed in doubt and fear. Then her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, her hand flew to her mouth. Lightfoot halted immediately, as did Jebsun and his horse.

By the time Artham had pulled up next to them, neither Sara nor Jebsun had said anything: the former only stared, a thousand emotions flickering across her face at once, and the latter did as well, though more in surprise than anything else. Sara’s arm hesitantly reached out, her hand nearing Janner’s cheek. 

“Let’s get moving,” Jebsun said before she could make contact, breaking the silence. “We can take it at a fast walk or a slow trot, but we need to go faster than just standing still. Actually, on second thought, I’ll ride ahead. I would prefer to wash up before checking on him.” He was off without another word or backward glance.

Artham wanted to kick both himself and Jebsun—himself for not suggesting they get moving sooner and Jebsun for coming between the future Queen of Anniera and her fiance. 

Coloring at what could have been considered criticism, Sara shook herself and sensibly listened to Jebsun, commanding a fast walk from Lightfoot. Artham purposely matched her pace and rode near her, careful not to trip her while still allowing her as much closeness to Janner as the situation would permit. 

He barely noticed the landscape as they rode back to Glipwood, at least no more than mentally acknowledging it was a bit chilly—he hoped his cloak was doing Janner some good—and the grasses blew in such a way that a portion of the cold came from windchill. 

Far more conscious was he of Janner, how he shifted, slid, sought refuge as they rode. Yes, his nephew was unconscious. That didn’t mean a portion of his mind had no knowledge of when he was or wasn’t safe—Artham did not imagine the way Janner subtly drew closer to him and rested his head against his chest. 

“Is he going to be alright, Artham?” Sara asked when the bridge leading into the Township became visible.

Artham glanced at her, trying to see what lay in her eyes. Nothing but fear and grief, it seemed. They reached the bridge, and he slowed Garner to a walk.  “Eventually, I think he will be,” he said gently, ignoring the odd stares they received from passersby. Though…a few did look rather familiar like—

“Pe— I mean, Artham?” Addie Shooster asked incredulously as she came out of a storefront. “What are you doing here? And what…rather whom are you carrying?”

Artham gave her a tight smile. “If you’re really curious, I’ll tell you in a minute or so. Or, perhaps Sara will. I need to take care of someone, though, so please, give me a moment.”

Addie may have uttered an acceptant, of course, of course, but Artham didn’t pay attention to that. He saw nothing except Janner and the medical practice ahead of him. As soon as he pulled up next to it, he slid down, then pulled Janner into his arms gently. 

“Keep Garner steady until I come back for him, if you don't mind,” he told Sara before heading inside the practice that did not smell of burnt porridge and eggs anymore. The bell jingled annoyingly as the door opened and shut. Artham almost called out for Jebsun, but then he appeared from around a corner he hadn’t noticed before; there must have been a hall or stairwell on the other side of the wall. 

“Follow me, please,” Jebsun said simply before heading to the back of the practice. 

Passing through the front room cluttered with countertops and shelves stocked with medicine and jars, Artham was surprised to find himself walking into an uncluttered, blond-wood room with a floor-to-ceiling cabinet along one wall, a white-sheeted cot pressed into a corner, and two chairs.

“You can lay him there,” Jebsun blindly gestured toward the cot as he looked through the cabinets and pulled out various items. 

Artham listened again, and almost as soon as he had done so Jebsun pulled up a chair and began his examination. What he wanted to do was ask what Jebsun saw, what worried him, what was good, what was neither good nor bad, but he couldn’t. Seeing Jebsun’s constant processing in the form of nods, grunts, or headshakes compared to the stillness and gaunt fear in Janner’s face was almost more than he could bear, and he murmured an excuse of needing to tend to Garner and check on Sara before making a hurried exit. The uncertainty was breaking his heart.

He found Sara talking with Addie, both Garner and Lightfoot already tethered to the post in front of Jebsun’s practice. 

“Artham,” Addie began sharply, immediately halting her conversation with Sara. “If what I’m hearing is correct, do you mean to tell me that Janner is the one Jebsun brought in a few days prior, he’s the one I watched and read to just the other night, and someone had the audacity to hurt him in the manner Jebsun described? It sounds like a dreadful book! What happened in the past few years to…make something like this a reality?”

All other town-like sounds faded into the background. Sara looked at her feet, but Artham couldn’t tear his gaze away from Addie. “The past few years haven't had that much to do with it, and those aside, Sara and I don't exactly know what's happened in the past month or more. Has Jebsun told you anything specific he's figured out?” he asked, his voice cold. Jebsun had mentioned a few things earlier and he and Sara had come to their own conclusions, but he wanted to know. He wanted to know everything he could gather from Addie and Jebsun and observation. He’d never ask Janner, though, he couldn’t do that.

Addie shook her head. “Not much more than that someone hurt him, beat him.”

“Whipped him?” Sara whispered, raising her head, her eyes filled with tears. She sounded as though she both begged and dreaded the confirmation. 

Pursing her lips, Addie nodded, and Artham’s anger surged. “Stabbed him, too, thrice, if I remember correctly—that's what happened to his leg. He’s terrified and grieving, Artham. I don’t know how you’re going to alleviate it—”

“He’s grieving because he thinks Sara’s dead,” Artham said, and tears sprung into Sara’s eyes at his abruptness. He would need to apologize later. “The Overseer told him he’d killed her, and it was Janner’s fault. Hopefully clearing up that issue should help.”

Addie looked between them. “Who is the Overseer, and why would he dare do such a thing to Janner? And what’s even happened?” she asked, looking utterly confused.

Even giving an incredibly quick summary brought Sara to tears, and guilt and anger and frustration awakened in Artham’s mind.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as if in response to the tears running down Sara’s cheeks and the look of horror now plastered on Addie’s face. “I should have gotten rid of him. It’s my fault—I’m so sorry.” It didn’t matter he had been preoccupied in hearing Esben’s voice for the first time in years, the first time in endless, guilt-ridden years. He should have found some way to put an end to the Overseer, surely it wouldn’t have been that hard? A quick slide or stab of the blade, and it all would have been over. This would have never happened.

“Artham, it isn’t your fault!” Sara suddenly burst out, anger flying into her eyes out of nowhere. “If it’s your fault, then it’s my fault, just as it’s Owen and Joe and Maraly’s faults.”

Shaking his head, Artham ran his hand through his hair and clutched at it. “Sara, I’m the one who let him go to this conference in the first place. If only I hadn’t—”

“STOP IT!” Sara shrieked. “Everything isn’t always about—” She paused, fists clenched, staring at him, as if she was about to say something. Artham found himself stepping back, his hands trembling. Then her anger cooled, just as fast as it had sparked, and guilt and horror replaced it.* 

Addie placed a firm hand on Sara’s shoulder and Artham’s forearm. “Both of you, stop it,” she said forcefully, in a motherly, scolding, yet gentle way. “Neither of you did anything to Janner but search for him. This wasn’t your fault—you could never have seen it. This was the doing of this ‘Overseer’ as you call him, and if he really wanted to do this, if he really wanted vengeance, he was going to find some way of managing it anyway. You didn’t cause it. Don’t blame yourselves.”

Artham stared at her for a few minutes, turning her words over in his mind. The sounds of the town flooded back and as they did, the words of wisdom took root in his heart, though his fury toward the Overseer did not change, and when he nervously glanced at Sara again, he saw relief in her eyes. 

“Oh, thank you, Addie,” she whispered, and the two embraced.

“You’re welcome, dearie, but, my, you’re trembling!” she whispered motheringly. “Do you want to come to the Inn? I can make you some tea, and we can sit and chat.”

Smiling sadly, Sara shook her head. “Mrs. Shooster, I’d love to, but I don’t want to leave Janner alone.” 

Arm behind Sara’s back, Addie smiled back at her, but it wasn’t with a look of sadness. “Then I’ve the perfect solution,” she said as she guided her up the steps into the practice. “Jebsun has a lovely sitting room and kitchen, and he never minds when I come over and sit with him a while, and I’ll usually make tea for us when I come. I’ll fix some tea for you; it’s so chilly, and your nerves are shot. And you’ll be able to stay near Janner, too. The best of both worlds, I think. Artham, would you like any?”

“Any what?” he murmured absentmindedly, staring at the ground.

Addie placed her hand on his arm again. “Tea, dear. I was asking if you wanted me to make you a cup.”

Head shooting up, Artham looked at her and tried appearing least a little happy and appreciative. He wasn’t sure it worked. “I would love some, thank you.”

As he followed them and entered the medicine-filled practice once more, The Overseer refused to leave his mind. Surely such a monster who had gone to all the trouble of kidnapping a king from a palace wouldn’t just let him go—how else had Janner stumbled into Jebsun? Someone who had gone to all the work the Overseer had wouldn’t just lose someone. He had more ideas, more planned. 

Artham was absolutely certain they involved Sara. How, he didn’t know, but they did.

When Addie handed him a steaming mug of tea, he clenched his hand around it. He vowed none of those plans would come to fruition. He would not allow it.

*****

Notes:

*what Sara was about to say is "Everything isn't always about you," because she's angry and upset and scared and not really thinking and there's a lot of emotions flying around in this chapter and anyway-

But what matters is that she doesn't say it. So we don't have to worry about it 😅

Artham seems a bit cold and callous in this chapter...that's intentional^^

Let me know if there's anything wonky or noncanonical :)