The Realm of the Sun

A Traitor's Counsel

                 Eirainna was sitting in her room alone when Cillian knocked tentatively on her door. She was happy to see him; any company at all was a welcome distraction. Since returning from the village, she faced the contradiction of always wanting to be alone, yet simultaneously surrounded by diversions to keep her from being isolated with her thoughts.

"Are you occupied?" he asked, his countenance visibly uneasy.

"No, on the contrary, come in," she shut the door, sensing he had chosen her alone to hear his grievances, "is everything all right?"

Cillian sat awkwardly on the burgundy armchair beside the fireplace, his best efforts barely succeeding to hide his discomfort.

"Maeve has decided to attack a village in Ulster. A small village called Baile Grian near the border filled with innocent people," he began, swallowing to digest the information as he shared it, "we are ordered to charge them by night when they least expect it and—"

"Why?" Eirainna asked, her eyes widening, "Maeve at times can be...removed, yes, but I did not think her capable of such an act."

"Then you are mistaken," he said, gravely recalling the way the queen had presided over the room like a grey storm cloud, "She said that the only way we can recover from Diarmiad's regiment's failure to capture and kill Connor mac Nessa is by a bold action. That they won't fear us if they don't respect us..."

"Can it really be just a game for her, then?" Eirainna murmured, her jaw unable to fully close as she processed this with some astonishment.

"Of course it is, she's not the one fighting it," Cillian bit his tongue, finding the floor with his eyes. His head bowed, he took a deep breath and went on, "Sir Niall argued that this was a tactless retaliation, and totally against the people, which he had assumed this war was about in the first place..." he shook his head and then held it hopelessly in his hands, surrendering all formality of speech and confessing shamelessly to his sister and confidante, "She humiliated me in front of all the knights."

"Why, what did you do?"

"It's what I didn't do. I only argued that it would be ruthless and frankly pointless to attack all of the individual villages, and that it would be wrong. I agreed completely with Niall. But she said because I did not have the 'courage' to do it, she would reassign it to her new friend—and who knows what else—mac Roich."

"I have noticed their strange attachment of late. At first I hoped it would make her more gentle and empathetic, perhaps. What she felt for him, I mean. But it seems now I was wrong there too."

"Feelings have nothing to do with it, of that I am sure. He'll do anything, kill anything she commands. Imagine, a monster of a man that size and with all that ability, wrapped around Maeve's little finger, it's...dangerous," Cillian shook his head, half in shame, half in disdain for the side he was on, "I hope you won't think me weak for saying this, Raina, but I...I don't know what's right anymore. Is it not more courageous to take the moral high road, to be fighting for the people, not fighting the people? Because I cannot bring myself to slay innocent peasants: does that make me a coward? Am I a coward, Raina? I thought I knew what the word meant..." he sighed in ambivalence. His words struck a prevalent chord in her, the one thread of feeling she could not speak of, though she wanted to. It only comforted her that she was not alone in feeling this way. Of course her silence on the matter would be no comfort to him.

"I believe..." she chose her words carefully, "I believe that if a war has to happen, that it should be between those who made it happen—those who wish to fight—not the innocent people. Believing that does not make us cowards," she assured him, consolingly. He gave a half-smile for her efforts, but clearly felt no better.