The Nun and King

Chapter 20

The following morning a clearing of a throat awakens me. Struggling to open my eyes, I let them adjust and can make out Warren's form standing a few feet away from me. He holds a candlestick whose single flame dances freely on its end.

"It's the crack of dawn Warren," I say groggily and wipe the sleep away.

Warren inhales carefully and fidgets with a rolled parcel of paper in his hand—a message from a raven. Knowing that whatever words have been scribbled down must carry news that couldn't wait until breakfast, I push myself up from bed and swing both legs over, allowing my feet to rest on the cool floor. "What is it?" I ask, feeling my heart racing as each beat is carried throughout my body. I can count on one hand the amount of reasons someone would bring me word at this early hour—none of them good.

Warren steps closer and extends his arm, first handing me the parcel then the candlestick. Before unrolling the parchment, I gaze up at my friend and can see the dread he attempts to conceal. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

I give my head a shake, refusing to accept the news that he has brought me. Still, I carefully unroll the raven's message and read what Crispin has written. "Father is dead. He passed yesterday evening in his sleep painlessly thanks to the maesters. We knew this was coming, but that doesn't mean we aren't allowed to hurt. Stay strong for Rory, Tommy. The world is watching you now more than ever. Come home after the war so we can grieve in peace together. Crispin."

I read it again and again. My eyes well up and I blink tears away before they can fall and look at the date my youngest brother sent the raven. "My father's been dead for four days," I state out loud with a sniffle, "Four days and I...I've just been here doing nothing and..." I trail, trying to find something to blame myself for because no decent son becomes an orphan and carries on for four days as if all is right in the world. A good son would have somehow known his father had taken his final breaths.

Warren places a hand on my shoulder and kneels down onto one knee. Looking me in my eyes, he gives a shake of his head. "Don't guilt yourself for anything, Tommy. You did right by him for visiting him in the middle of war—there's nothing else you could have done for him, yeah?" he tells me.

Saying nothing, my thoughts turn towards Rory and how he is going to handle this news. He could hardly keep together when we said goodbye—unsure if it was going to be the last time we say him. Now that he is gone, how will he react? Out of my father's four children, it was Rory that loved him the most. "You haven't told him, have you?" I ask, not needing to specify his name. 

Warren shakes his head. "No. I thought it would be best if it came from you."

Sighing, I ran a hand though my hair. "Right. Tell no one of this until I make an announcement. Afterwards I want all Paevian flags lowered to half-mast and will remain that way until the end of this damned war."

Warren stands and offers a slow bow—something rare as such formalities are typically nonexistent between the two of us unless we are at court. He then turns and exits my quarters, leaving me alone in the darkness of my tent. Closing my eyes, I roll the parchment with the tips of my fingers that carry words as dark as the wings that carried them. My eyes begin to well and I have to clamp down on my lower lip to keep it from quivering. Even though I knew this day would come—sooner rather than later—it does not negate the pain I feel as it swells in my chest. I allow myself a moment to cry...to grieve what was lost. Never again will I hear my father's voice or laugh, see his smile or the joy that his grandchildren brought him. Feel his warmth as he embraced me for the last time—instead his body now lies cold, perhaps he has already been laid to rest in his tomb next to my mother.

The temptation to crawl back into bed and think only of myself and to reminisce on memories beckons me, but I can't. I have duties to tend to today, the first one being with my brother.