✓ | POOR JUDGMENT (A.FORRESTER)

Brother. Chater Seven.

It was weird to be back at Ironrath, even when she'd only been gone a week, her once favoured place in the world looked unfamiliar in this time of confliction. Everything seemed so new, and unrecognisable. Ethan, and Rodrik, and Lord Gregor were all gone now. She missed her brothers, and the only father she had ever known. And without them, the place she had once called home felt empty; as if it's contents had been drained into the sea. Yet everyone carried on, as if nothing had changed in the passing days. That's what made Cynthia feel sick, it was suddenly as if they'd only ever been a fading memory, now pushed to the back, with little importance. No one regarded the fact that two of the lords of House Forrester had fallen, nor did anyone care that the heir to House Forrester had died as well. That only left Ryon and Asher, but neither were worth  any hope. The potential of Asher coming home was still hanging in the wind, and with Ryon now being held hostage by the Whitehills, there was no telling if they'd ever see the youngest Forrester again. Which meant the house fell without a Lord, no one to guide and lead. No one.

With the murmurs from the small folk being the only sound within the stone walls of the courtyard, Cynthia swiftly made her way to the Great Hall, wishing to speak with Lady Elyssa in an instant. She was the only person Cynthia knew she could confide in, with Rodrik no longer around and the trust between members of the House dwindling, Elyssa seemed to be the only person she could trust. And with this new found knowledge of her family, Cynthia was in serious need of someone to merely listen to her talk, even if they gave no response. She needed to talk about it, make sense of it and put it all into a line that was reasonable comprehensible. Without that, it was all just a jumble of thoughts randomly packed into her mind without any chronological order.

Striding through the corridors, passing dimly lit torches and tapestries, Cynthia tried to ignore the stab of pain she felt with being back home, without her brothers. It had only been a week since she'd seen Ethan, and, even then, she hadn't intended for it to be the last time. She wanted to hug him now, tell him how much she loved him and that she would always protect him, like she did when he was a young boy. She wanted to keep him close, and never let go. Because it hurt too much to say goodbye to him. Her little brother. And Rodrik....She couldn't even begin to explain the pain she felt when thinking of him. She couldn't remember the last time she spoke to him, nor could she recall her last words to her brother, but she knew they weren't good enough to be final. It had probably been a joke, cast in a futile attempt to lighten the mood of their farewells, none of them knowing that those would be the last words spoken to the eldest Forrester. And being home without the two of them, by her side or nearby at least, felt wrong in so many ways. She was so used to going to Rodrik during the day, wishing to play a game or read or just talk, and then going to Ethan and Talia in the evening and reading to them whilst they fell asleep, before she went back to the older children for the rest of the night. They'd been so close growing up, and now they were so far apart that their last words to one another had drifted with the wind, never to be remembered again.

Sniffing away her saddening thoughts, Cynthia let herself into the Great Hall, the large doors ripping through the silence of the grand and vast room. "Cyn," A familiar voice called out, but at first it only seemed like a distant memory to her. She'd thought it was merely her imagination toying with her; that was until she looked up. Stood by the fire, arm in a sling and half a face torn to shreds, stood the one person Cynthia needed right now, more than anything. She held her breath, eyes beginning to sting already with the sudden realisation that the only brother she had ever known was actually here. "Rodrik..." She gasped, her feet moving her as quickly as possible in his direction.

Barging into his arms, Cynthia embraced her brother as tightly as she could, never wanting to let go of him again. "I thought you were..." She croaked, barely managing to utter the words with her voice breaking. "I missed you too," Rodrik sighed, a light chuckle escaping his lips as his chin rested atop her head and arms wrapping as best they could around her. "Should I leave you?" A second voice spoke up, from one of the chairs set up beside the fireplace. "Elaena!" Cynthia screamed, releasing Rodrik for second in order to turn to her once closest friend outside of House Forrester. When Rodrik and Elaena had gotten engaged, her and Cynthia (and Mira on occasion) had spent a lot of time together, more so than they had before the betrothal had been arranged.

"Where've you been?" Rodrik asked quickly, regaining Cynthia's attention. His smile still scratched onto his scarred face, whilst his grey eyes stared down toward her. That was something Cynthia had always struggled with after Asher's exile, his eyes were so easily recognisable through Rodrik's. The eyes of their father, so beautiful and grey. Who knew such a dull colour could be someone's favourite. "I've been at the Wall. With Duncan." Cynthia replied quietly, feeling somewhat ashamed that she'd left her home for something so meaningless compared to sticking by the young Lord's side. She'd failed him, she knew it deep down that she shouldn't have gone. But the worse part about it all was, Cynthia still found she was happy she'd gone, happy to have found out such news about her family. Even at the cost of her brother, she couldn't help but be somewhat pleased to have learnt something. "It's good to see you, sister." Rodrik's voice spoke up again, his smile widening as Cynthia stared back up at him. She was still struggling to believe that he was here, she didn't know how, but didn't completely care. All that mattered was that he was alive, and was back where he belonged. Home. "You too, brother."