I spent that winter in the haven of the Order, safe and secure, untouchable as Uther's ward. My father was arrested, and jailed, my mother sent to Lordaeron, and my lands put in trust to the Order. I grew stronger, more capable, and the pain vanished. I was where I belonged, with a father figure who cared, and a quasi brother who did as well. I no longer saw a joke in this, this was where I belonged… but things never stay calm. I've learned that well…
It was spring, but it had been a sharp, wet one, little comfort from the earlier winter. I had laid on muscle, coltishly lanky instead of pale and thin. I drilled with Arthas in the morning, but had graduated to drilling with Uther in the afternoon. It was morning; a cold haze slimed the grass and turned the mud to hard butter. Arthas and I were sparring, merely playing, the marshals still watching. None of them called it; it was nothing I did wrong. It was nothing Arthas did wrong. It wasn't the horse, his or mine. It was simply wretched luck. They say these things are slowed forever in your mind…it wasn't. One minute I was setting my horse to turn over his haunches and meet Arthas's attack, the next moment I was on the ground, the horse on top of me, screaming.
"HOLD!" The marshals, Arthas's own deep voice in theirs, calling a halt to all sparring.
There was pain. So much of it. I'd never, ever even conceived of this kind of agony. It was stunning, silencing…too much to even consider breathing, much less crying or screaming.
"Clair!" He was beside me, either time was flowing very oddly, or he had thrown himself from his horse to make it me.
My horse was churning, convulsing, and the slightest move it made amplified the agony. "Arthas." I managed, and he stared at me. "Make it stop moving. Please, just…"
He nodded sharply, rose to his feet, and brought his warhammer down between its eyes, one massive blow. It didn't completely stop moving, but it fell to twitching. "Uther!" He bellowed, his voice ragged and much deeper than I was accustomed to. "Damnit, Uther! To me, now!" It was the call of a Menethil, a ruler, at odds with his normal behavior towards Uther. "Clair. Uther is coming. It's going to be fine."
"What the hell happened, boy?" Uther's voice, sharp, breathless. He'd been running…
"Her horse fell on her. I think…it's bad."
"Aye. Clair, lass… we're going to move the horse now. These things happen all the time, you know that."
Yes, I knew that. We'd had one just last week, but then, they had both, horse and rider, bounced up like little balls… basically none the worse for wear. Had everything been like then, the horse would have been up before Arthas had made it back to me. He hadn't been getting up, he had been thrashing… Arthas hadn't blinked once before killing him.
I passed out when they moved the horse, for the Light does bless us. I woke up to dim light and muted sounds, all hazed and unfocused, like a disjointed dream that didn't want to flow together right. My left hand was freezing, my right one warm and clasped in another's grasp. I opened my eyes, into Arthas's gaze. His expression brightened immediately. "Clarimonde." He breathed. "You're awake, finally."
"I…" Couldn't speak. My lips were cracked, my tongue swollen, and nothing worked correctly.
"Shhhh. Don't try." He smoothed the air back from my forehead and pressed his lips there. He felt very warm, very alive, while I felt stunned, lost, cold….dead. "It's wonderful that you're awake… Uther…."
"Wha', boy?" Uther muttered sleepily, very close by.
"She's awake."
Uther picked up my cold hand, he was obviously on the other side of my bed, and held it. "Morning, Lass." He whispered gruffly. "Gave us all a scare, you did."
