Rather than Resenting: Ch. 3

A Discussion in the Library

Notes:

This was originally written one way and then I changed it. I decided it was tooo soon for what I had written to come to pass, so it's getting pushed off until chapter 7

Again suggestions, recommendations, all are welcome^^

*****

Janner’s frustration had yet to subside by the time they sat down in the library, and thankfully, Kalmar apparently noticed this. 

“You know, it’ll probably be just like the trade agreements,” he said softly. “A lot of talk but no real change.”

Nodding, Janner planted his right elbow on the chair’s armrest and rested his forehead in his hand. “I know. I shouldn’t’ve snapped at you; I’m sorry. I don’t know what—”

“No, you do know,” Kalmar interjected gently. “But I don’t need you to apologize, and I don’t want you to either. I should apologize for bombarding you with everything the moment I saw you! I didn’t even ask how you were. And I don’t think I’ve seen you in days.”

Janner felt the tears and terror gathering in his throat again, but he pushed them away. Again. “It’s fine, Kal; really. Just because everything,” — he had to stop and actually keep himself from crying when he thought about what “everything” meant — “is happening doesn’t mean I have some excuse to get frustrated with you or, or, I don’t know.”

Kalmar looked at him steadily, staring straight into his eyes without blinking. “No, you’re wrong,” he said firmly. “It does give you an excuse. And if you want me and Artham to divvy up all of your formal duties until this is over to make things easier for you, we can do that. What do you think?”

“‘Until this is over,’?” Janner asked bleakly. “Kal, you know what it’s going to be like when all this is over! When all this is over,” his voice broke. “Sara is going to be grieving and Cerlon is going to be—” his breath hitched and his throat burned and the tears he had been holding back sprang into his eyes but he looked away quickly and blinked as fast as he could. He couldn’t cry over this, not here, not now. Maybe not ever. Nia had never cried any of the times her life had been falling apart. She had held it in and braved everything with that glorious fierceness she possessed, and she had done it for their sake. He was willing to do it for Sara’s sake, and if that meant bottling every horrific emotion that just wanted to come spilling out from everyone, he was willing to do that. 

He cleared his throat and looked back at Kalmar. “Thank you,” he said quietly, hoping the smile he was doing his best to force onto his face did not resemble a grimace. “I appreciate it, I really do. But, um,” he closed his eyes in an effort to organize his thoughts before they came out of his mouth. “Most of the things I can do, I’d really rather do them. Just so I don’t have to think about it so much…” he trailed off. 

Kalmar nodded, uncertainty springing into his eyes. “Okay, but if you need to change anything, I can be spontaneous. And I don’t know how spontaneous Uncle Artham can be, but he won’t mind being spontaneous for you.”

His brother’s original mention of his enjoyment of spontaneity made Janner chuckle, but his nod toward Artham’s lack thereof elicited real laughter, genuine, happy laughter. It felt oddly foreign, but a good sort of foreign, and made him wonder how long it had been since he had felt lighthearted enough to truly laugh. The feeling was brief and fleeting, though, and soon it had disappeared, lost in time.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ from you,” Kalmar said grinning, the broad smile of triumph making it clear that he was thinking about the subject for a while. “I am being serious, though. You’re my Throne Warden and you physically protect me and help me when necessary, but that doesn’t mean you’re invincible. Now’s one of those times. If you need to talk anytime at all in the next while, come.” Janner nodded, feeling his stomach clench with worry at the thought of it. “Because if you don’t, I will come and demand it from you,” he added.

Knowing it was better to give verbal consent than argue with him, Janner nodded and even forced a smile onto his face to convince Kalmar of the “truth” in his words. “Alright, fine. You win.” The words were meant to come across teasingly, and based on his brother’s reaction, it worked.

“Well, I intended to,” Kalmar announced. “Oh, and I forgot; there’s another thing you do for me: you interpret everything at meetings and make decisions that make sense! So maybe we can work on sorting that out?” 

Janner grinned in response, and they began going through everything together.

They discussed everything Kalmar could remember about the meeting first, then everything he could not remember after that, when Artham walked in and deposited the itinerary in front of them with a flourish. He joined them from that point onward, offering suggestions regarding trading contracts with other places like Plonst and Torborro and Yorsha Doon, new ideas on the preparations for planting season, and so forth. All three agreed that no changes needed to be made to the Redeemer’s Ball, except Janner opted to change the name and both Artham and Kalmar voted him down, saying there was no better name for it and that a different name would just confuse everyone.

“Can I at least not be the keynote speaker?” he asked hopefully, knowing his request would go nowhere, but figuring asking could not hurt anything. As with the name change, he had proposed the elimination of the speech each year, and like the name change, it never made any headway either.

Kalmar groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in mock frustration. “But you’re the only one who makes sense! Why would someone else speak at an event meant to honor your sacrifice?”

“Because it’s weird that we even have an event honoring it!” Janner retorted, not actually thinking about the context of the question, not thinking about what Kalmar or anyone else had thought during those four days thirteen years before, all because he was thinking about other things that he shouldn’t have really been thinking about. “If I was dead, it would be different. But I’m not.” The thought fluttered across his mind that Kalmar had almost died a few years earlier and it was because of both himself and Amrah, largely the latter, but the former had certainly helped! He didn’t want a ridiculous ball named after him and if it was a matter of “honor,” he certainly didn’t think he was deserving of such a thing after what had happened then. The High King of Anniera had almost died because of him and it was wrong, it was all so wrong on so many levels, and now Sara was sick and had been sick and Cerlon was dying and always had been and his brain was spiraling but it didn’t matter and there was really no hope at all—

“Janner? Janner, what’s going on?”

“Janner, please look at me.”

He slowly registered the first concerned voice as Kalmar’s and the second tender one as Artham’s, and then he realized Artham was in front of him, kneeling, looking at him anxiously.

Janner blinked once, twice, shook his head to clear the clinging cobwebs of memories, frustration, anger, and grief. “Sorry,” he mumbled, ducking his head, desperately hoping he had simply spaced out for a moment and not done anything more embarrassing. “I’m really sorry. Um, Kal?” he hesitated, glancing at his brother and saw confusion, worry, grief, and even a little bit of fear written on his face. Janner felt his heart breaking at the thought of upsetting him and forced every single emotion and thought away. He got up, feeling the purposeful brush of Artham’s feathers against his arm and knew it was meant as an encouragement. 

“Kalmar, I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean it like that.” He toed the rug awkwardly and struggled to look at his brother’s face.

Kalmar cleared his throat as if to dislodge something imaginary that had gathered there. “No, it’s fine. It’s okay. I get it — your brain’s wonky right now. You're thinking about other things.”

Janner laughed mirthlessly at this; his brother’s words were more true than he even knew.

“And of course that’s clearly the reason why you kind of looked like you wanted to hurt someone, very, very badly,” Kalmar continued jokingly, either genuinely alright and lighthearted or simply trying to alleviate the tension. “So, um, in light of that, please don’t...hurt the coordinators, okay? You know, the ones for the Ball?” 

Artham sighed exasperatedly at those words, and Janner smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry; I won’t.” 

They went back to planning a few more things, staying away from the subject of the Ball and sticking to the trade agreements. Still, Janner could not stop thinking about Sara and Cerlon and Amrah and the fear and worry that constantly ran through his mind.

He wondered if Artham noticed.

*****

Notes:

I'm sure some level of annoying details regarding political and diplomatic stuff would still need to be taken care of, even if everything that is going on is going on.

It's a terrible balancing act they would have to work through, personal life competing with tedious diplomacy...