The Savage

Part 1: Chapter Four: Llewellyn

It was the fourth hour after noon which meant candles were being changed in his room. His grandmother kept the household staff on a strict schedule. Anyone who was caught disrupting said regiment was berated mercilessly. Which meant that if Llewellyn wanted to spend the remainder of his day resting for a night away from the palace, it would have to be somewhere unconventional. This is what led him to the Wren family chapel. Unlike the massive stained glass monstrosity of a cathedral connected to the Senate building, the family chapel was quiet and generally empty.

Everyone was bad tempered. The facade of good manners might be just that, a facade, but Llewellyn depended on it for peace within the family. His mother and grandmother seemed to be seething under the surface, making them short and impatient with everyone. That morning in the middle of an examination, Davyth had stood up and threw the book at their tutor before stalking out. Davyth was generally irritable during classes but assaulting their tutor was a new development. Their father had sequestered himself into his study and Llewellyn hadn't seen him since the night the Duthaichi Princess had arrived.

Periodically, Llewellyn found himself daydreaming about soft, he was sure they were soft, red curls. This was followed quickly by feeling foolish and ashamed. Llewellyn thought himself too old to be musing like this over a woman. He was, however, annoyed that she was being kept away, by his grandmother no doubt.

Llewellyn intended to escape that evening to take part in some youthful rivalries in the city. Anything to escape the ominous mood of the castle. A nap was needed if he was going to stay up all night, so Llewellyn made his way into the little chapel.

The priest's would be chanting and the music was soothing to him. The royal family pew was on the left side of the church adjacent to the general seating surrounded by a three foot stone wall. Taking the red velvet seat curtains, Llewellyn tossed them onto the stone floor between the wall and the pew and positioned himself comfortably on them. He took a deep breath and let the unearthly echoes lull him into sleep.

When he woke he was bathed in dim dusk light. Something had woke him up, but laying there quiet for a moment, he heard nothing. The chanting had stopped, something had woken him. Then, breaking the reverent silence of the church, was the unmistakable sound of a sob. Llewellyn silently raised himself up and peered over the top of the half wall. Kneeling before the altar on both knees, hands clasped in supplication muttering a prayer as he wept was Steffan.

"May the Nameless forgive me." he cried. It was desperate and deep. The sobs of the pain and anguish of a soul.

Llewellyn ducked back down, his heart racing. He had never seen the man like that, prostrate and in pain.

"Have mercy on me. I can't live with my sins haunting me day and night. Release me from the torture, beloved Nameless." Steffan begged.

With no other choice, Llewellyn remained in his hiding place listening to the older man's agonizing, and occasionally inaudible, pleas. Even after he heard him rise and leave, Llewellyn lay still in his confusion. It felt wrong to see Steffan like that. The King clearly thought he was alone. What cause him such misery?

Still paused, Llewellyn heard someone else coming down the center aisle, two people. He heard a low, intimate laugh. It was Davyth. He then heard a male grunt. That was not Davyth. Having no intention of listening to whatever was about to occur, Llewellyn took a deep breath, preparing for his brother's inevitable wrath and stood.

Davyth had a squire pushed up against the altar. The other man saw Llewellyn first, pushing Davyth away, he nodded towards him.

Davyth turned around. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.