𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑎𝑤𝑛 | 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

26 ⋆☾⋆Rain and midnights

The rain crashed against the windows with such speed and ferociousness, they could break any moment. On the edge of his bed sat a tall man with his head in his hands, completely hooded in darkness. He swallowed thickly as he looked at the door with wide eyes. His foot tapped against the wooden floors. 

Gilan was caught in a conflict, where he desperately wanted the man to live. After all he had fought valiantly. However, if his opponent lived, it meant that he himself was in danger. 

A loud croak alerted the young knight, who jumped to his feet rapidly. Silence and tension filled the room as Sir David entered with furrowed brows and pursed lips. 

"You got lucky."

The king's commander looked into his son's green eyes with relief. Gilan's heart froze.

"Your hit didn't kill the man, he died of a fever." 

Huffing, the tall man let himself fall back on his bed, then propped himself onto his elbows. Even though he was glad he didn't deliver a fatal blow, he still didn't enjoy the news. Heat rose to his chest as he thought of how the man might've lived had there not been a tournament. 

"This could've been avoided, you know." The words slipped out, before Gilan had gathered all the arguments for his opinion in his head. 

"I don't think you want to start this again, son." 

The green eyes, which resembled his mother's so much it hurt, darkened. "You really think you get to call me that, after the scheme you've pulled? No. You signed away all rights to call yourself a father when you put your signature on that contract." 

With an ear-shattering bang, Sir David hammered his fist onto the little bedside table. The young Ranger did not flinch, but kept his furious gaze fixated on the dark man before him. 

"That's enough! I did more for you than you could ever imagine. I secured you a great wife when you were on the verge of marrying below your rank and you have the audacity to be ungrateful," not feeling quite satisfied in his temper yet, David delivered one final snare before stepping out of the chamber, "your mother would've been appalled." 

No replies came to Gilan's mind, only the need to hurt that man. His hands found their way to a vase nearby with wilted flowers in it and he threw it at the closing door, hoping one of the shards would hit Sir David. The attempt fell to pieces like the vase and all the young man was left with was an empty shame leaving him colder than the open window across the room. 

Hot tears started falling down his cheeks, rolling over the fresh cut as if he needed a reminder of the day before. He raised his eyes to the roof and was awfully aware how silence painted the room an even darker shade. His gaze traced the shadows on the walls while he contemplated the best way to climb out of the tower and leave. With a large amount of effort he heaved himself off the bed to look out the little window with its checkered design. 

Gilan mustered the horizon, squinted in hopes of seeing figures rise on the far off hills. As if somehow Halt would've been back already with that little brown haired boy. He doubted he would've even been allowed to interact with his old mentor, after all he wasn't a Ranger anymore. His heart tugged again as he pulled his little silver oak leaf out of his shirt. A mixture of rain and tears dripped down his chin. 

There was one person he could go to. Who had all the answers, hopefully, and knew all about the Scoti's war rituals. He tucked the necklace back under his black gambeson and wandered through the castle until he found the right door. Hestitantly, he knocked, fearing the reaction to come when she'd open the door. 

A harsh, loud pull revealed the pale face and red locks to him. The green eyes lit up, like a cat's noticing their prey. 

"Could I step in?"