My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  Clopping without any of the grace she had, Myra stomped into the room. "What are you...?" she trailed their sight to find Gavin dressed in little more than a tight ivory tunic and very thin trousers hauling a bucket of water out of the well. When the bucket reached the lip of the stone, he paused and drew his arm across his forehead to wipe the sweat away. All the girls around her squealed in delight. Unaware of the affect he was having a few stories up, Gavin hauled up the bucket and continued to walk around the building.

  As one, they got up and raced through a side door to find another open window. Piling haphazardly around it, all the girls stared down as Gavin lifted the bucket of water and tossed it onto a stump of all things. His biceps tugged against the tight sleeves of the tunic, to the point Myra could almost see that one intoxicating vein below.

  Shaking away the thought and hopefully getting the blush on her cheeks too, she honed in on Bryn, "What in the void is he doing?"

  "His knight, Daryan, seems she told him to water the stump until flowers bloomed," Bryn snickered.

  "What? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Myra stuck a hand on her hip. "You can't get flowers to grow off a tree. They need dirt. Everyone knows that."

  "Shh," pigtails waved her hand at Myra. "Who cares about logic? Look at him. Those shoulders..."

  "That ass," the other added, both leaning their heads far out the window to trail his retreating form while Myra felt the urge to retch.

  "That's nothing," Bryn inserted herself. "You should see his eyes." Then she turned and snickered, "Right, Myra?"

  "Wait," pigtails spun away from the window to glare right at Myra. "You've seen him, face to face? Did you talk to him?"

  "Oh please tell me he's got a deep voice. You'll ruin it all if he squeaks like a dying mouse," the other begged.

  "His voice is, it's fine. It's a normal man...boy voice!" Myra felt the urge to turn and run but the molasses of hormones stampeding through the air kept her stuck in place.

  "She's done even more than that, right Myra?" Bryn grinned wickedly at her roommate, showing off her teeth. That got a glare from Myra, who wanted to toss her out the window, or maybe leap from it herself. Enthralled with the idea, both girls turned to Bryn for more information.

  "You're saying her and...him? Like all sweaty and--"

  "We kissed, okay," Myra snarled, "That was it."

  Pigtails held up her hand, "It's just, ya know, you and him. I mean, look at him."

  "I seem incapable of stopping you," she rolled her eyes, planning on making Bryn's life hell after this. She could hide a dead fish in her bed, or fill all her ink bottles with soap. Or tell on Bryn to her mom! No, that last one was far too cruel. Best to go with the fish.

  "He's so damn..." the second girl faded against the window frame, her fingers picking at the edge.

  "He's the Commander's son," Bryn said smugly, clearly enjoying having so much to lord over people.

  "What? The Commander of the guards?" Pigtails scrunched up her face, fully confused.

  "Not that commander, The Commander. You know, the one from before, in the sketches."

  At that all the girl's eyes opened wide and they hung their heads out the window even further. Myra knew of the sketch, it was damn near impossible to not have it passed from under one teenage girl's bed to another, but she never had it. While her mother and father would have thrown a fit to rival some prophesied end times, it was meeting the man the sketch was based upon in person that killed any attraction. He wasn't a bad person, he was just so stiff, and certain. It was boring. And old. He was really old too.

  Gavin had seemed different. There were a lot of laughs whenever they snuck off from work or training, and he didn't make her stand at attention or judge her when she was being silly because she wanted to be. And he had the most adorable blush she'd ever seen.

  But this Gavin was... He was a squire? One of the same blockheaded idiots who'd cart around a blockheaded knight's kit while slipping away to get trashed on old wine and heckle servants? It seemed preposterous to think of. All the squires Myra was cursed to run into were morons of the highest caliber. They truly elevated the art of moronhood to its upper echelons at times. There was one who got stuck in the well. He helplessly mewled for hours while all the rest of the squires sat around laughing. It wasn't until the Chamberlain got sick of the noise that she told him to use the damn rope to climb up.

  "Oh," the girls broke through Myra's mental fuming, all three heads craning out the window as Gavin paused with an empty bucket. Maybe he'd finally wise up and realize he was wasting his time on such a bewildering task. He could hide out somewhere cool and when he heard his knight coming pretend to dump a bucket on the stump. That's what Myra would do.

  But no, that fool and the giddy ones watching, all gasped as he lifted up the hem of his shirt to try and dab away the sweat now percolating off his forehead. A scrap of stomach muscles emerged from the exposed midriff along with his soft brown skin. Myra remembered there was a birthmark beside his belly button, the scrawny thirteen year old often running around his farm shirtless, but not the pile of abs making her friends drool. Had he lost all his senses in exchange for muscle? It would make some sense.

  "Damn it!" Pigtails cursed as Gavin laid his shirt flat and moved back to the well. "I thought for sure he'd take it off that time."

  "Remember Daryan's last one? She had him at that thing for hours. He's got to give in at some point." The two girls put their heads together, already scampering back to the well window while Bryn paused and smiled.

  "Why not have Myra head down and ask him to take it off?"

  "What?" Myra panicked, reaching over to try and wrap a hand around Bryn's mouth to get her to shut up.

  Despite Myra being taller than her roommate, Bryn was able to slip free and wave, "They already know each other."

  Both pigtails and the other girl paused in their watching to turn heads right at Myra. Her cheeks paled at their deathly focus and she staggered backwards. "Yeah," they shouted together, "that's a great idea."

  "You, you want me to," Myra stuttered, barely able to process all of this. "To go down there and...fine. Fine!" She had no idea what she was doing, but she wanted to get far away from all of that as fast as possible. Spinning on her heel, Myra headed to an open window. If she climbed out onto the trellis, she could shimmy down it and then walk over to the dumb squire.

  She managed to get one leg out, when Bryn called, "Are you really going to do it?"

  "I don't know. I guess," she felt like she had to prove something. Bryn didn't believe her claims about having kissed Gavin, there was no way the others in the palace would either. Maybe if she got them what they wanted they'd have to take the idea seriously, or get off her back at least.

  As she scrabbled out onto the window ledge and reached towards the white picket fencing laid against the stone, she heard pigtails ask, "Who do you think will bed him first?"

  The girls threw out a couple names, none of them Myra of course, before Bryn suddenly gasped, "What if it's the princess?!"

  "Imagine the scandal that would cause," they giggled again.

  Sure, just slap the hot new squire with her sister, why not? It wasn't as if Rosamund wasn't perfect. With hair as dark as night and skin not really white, more of a soft peach skin kind of color, it was hard to not imagine any man not wanting her. The fact she remained unpromised to anyone while sitting upon the potential throne made her beauty inconsequential but a major plus. They were already using her likeness and body shape for numerous sculptures of the Prophetess across Denerim.

  When Myra struck ground, her mind was seething and she felt like ants were crawling all over her skin. Shaking her shoulders, she swiped the backs of her hands against her trousers, trying to clear it all away. If there were any bugs, they would have been squashed but she couldn't stop the crawling of her skin.

  In the worst kind of mood, she stomped around the corner and nearly barreled straight into the hot squire. Gavin's elbow
came hurtling towards her chest, the boy unaware of anyone around him, when he seemed to catch something from the side of his eye and jerked back. In his surprise, the bucket tumbled out of his hands and all that hard fought water splattered against the ground and his trousers. Maker, she could already hear the sighs and complaints for it not striking higher on him up in the window.

  "My-Myra," he gasped, scattering from her as if she carried the blight. His wet fingers moved to wipe at the back of his neck but they were so slick in his haste he swiped up his head instead. "I didn't see you there."

  "Yeah," she sighed to herself, "a lot of people tend to miss me." Trying to shake it away, Myra put on her cocksure face. It served her well, especially when the extended family started throwing around the b-word. "So, seems Karelle didn't put you in the stocks. I'm guessing you got wherever you were going."

  Gavin nodded, his lips lifting up into that goofy smile she remembered, "Yes, I...things worked out, mercifully. Thank you, for, for helping me get there. I'm afraid I'm not used to so much at once."

  That damn disarming, uncertain charm knocked Myra for a loop. She actually felt sorry for him. He looked like a chiseled god, he had family ties out the wazoo, and even after an entire afternoon of hard work he smelled like tree bark warmed by the sun. If anything she should be keeping an eye on him. Not like that, not like the rest of the giggling idiots up in the window. Just, be wary.

  "You'll get used to it," Myra threw out, "Or go mad trying."

  Gavin snickered, "I fear the latter but will do my best." He nudged his foot under the bucket and, with a quick kick, rolled it up his legs until it nestled safe in his arms.

  Dumbstruck, Myra's jaw nearly crashed to the muddy grass while Gavin turned on his heel and marched back to the well for more water. Focus, she yelled at herself. Of course he'd do that, he was always fetching water at the refuge. He probably played with buckets for fun.

  Jogging up beside him, Myra tried to catch Gavin's attention but he spoke first, "I have work to do, but..." He hooked up the bucket and moved to lower it down into the well. Turning to glance over his shoulder he smiled, "I'd enjoy talking."

  "That, uh," Myra's wicked tongue faded at the way his amber eyes danced over her a moment before he returned to the crank.

  "Denerim. I imagine you're quite the expert," Gavin continued, easily laying out a compliment that was honestly believable. For being raised out in the woods like a wolf baby he had skills that would serve him well in court.

  "Expert's a reach, but I know the streets," Myra half bragged as she perched herself upon the half wall that was usually littered with empty buckets.

  "Streets," Gavin paused before lifting the bucket up into the crook of his shoulder, one hand clinging to the top, "I hadn't thought of those. Learning to navigate them. Back in the closest village there were three, and one was always jammed up with sheep."

  Myra giggled at his honesty, letting the back of her shoes kick into the wall. Her eyes drifted upward where she caught a flash of shadows in the window. They were probably pissed at her both taking forever and getting rather friendly with their new toy.

  "You must know the sights as well," Gavin said, turning to march to his stump. "Things to see and do."

  Things to see, as in girls. As in could that old friend of his who he probably didn't think much of beyond knowledge of this city and a way in, could she get him some. Did she know any of the easier girls just wafting through the halls. That damn smile fooled her, she nearly forgot that he was in training to be a squire.

  Unaware of Myra's inner turmoil, Gavin returned to the stump. She leapt off the wall and chased after him, but in such a way it looked as if she was planning on going that way. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded before turning the bucket of water on the stump. "You do know that splashing a dead tree won't do shit, right?"

  Those straining shoulders locked tight, Gavin's entire back seeming to flex as he gripped tighter to the bucket. Myra scratched at her chin, "Just, thought, maybe I should point it out in case you didn't. I mean, I get it, flowers are pretty but that ain't the way to go about making them."

  "Do you think me simple minded?" he whispered.

  "I didn't until you devoted hours to washing dead wood," Myra couldn't hide the snicker in her voice. Surely he'd realize how foolish this was, side with her, and they could go do something else more fun.

  "I know what can and cannot grow flowers," Gavin's voice rumbled in his throat. When he spun back those amber eyes narrowed to two yellow points all honing on Myra. "I am doing this because I was ordered to."

  "Pretty dumb order. I mean, if they want to keep you occupied why not make you peel potatoes or something? This is just a waste of water and time." She felt exasperated. It began as a little light poking but Myra was growing more indignant. Why couldn't he see how stupid this was?

  Gavin placed the bucket in front of his stomach and marched heel to toe back to the well as he had been doing for an hour, as he would keep doing until the damn knight he answered to told him to stop. It was idiotic. It was maddening. How could you not question the point?

  "I mean," Myra spoke up and followed him around the corner, "if it was me, I'd just bugger on off and say I did it."

  "It is not you," he hissed, hooking the bucket up to the line and slowly letting it back down into the well. Even angry his movements were methodical, as if afraid he might tear out the well itself if he gave in.

  "You're not this daft, you can't be," Myra continued, stepping closer as if she could bash some sense into him.

  "Can't I be?" Gavin spun on his heel, his eyes boring into her, "Perhaps I do have the brains of a dead calf. It's what a shit farmer would be presumed to own after all."

  What in the void was he talking about? Myra's eyes darted over him trying to figure out what went wrong. This was easy. They'd laugh about his stupid assignment, he'd agree to ditch it, and then they could catch up properly without a gaggle of girls watching. How did it get so fucked up so fast?

  "Just," Gavin waved a hand through the air as if splitting it apart. He turned back to the bucket and wrapped both hands tight around it. "Let me accomplish my task in peace." Like that he slammed himself away, his features falling to neutral as he gazed over the world like a man untouched by a thing. Turning on his heels, he marched back to that stump which he would do again, and again, and again. Until his arms burned, his tongue dried out in his mouth, and his skin blistered in the sun.

  He didn't want her help. Fine! Myra slapped her hands against her thighs and climbed up onto the half wall. It was an easy shot to run clear up the hill and into one of the side towers from here. Before she left him to his own hell, she spat, "By the way, if you want to piss off the servant girls all watching you do this madness, keep your shirt on."

  Gavin tipped his head up, scouring the windows for the source but if he found them Myra didn't notice. She'd already left it all behind.

  * * *

  Damn it! Damn it all in that damned place that you damn things! Damnville, probably. They weren't very creative in damning stuff unless you were in the ironic punishment department.

  Myra kicked her shoe against a rock and swore at herself some more. While the chunk of stone bounced against the tower walls she flopped onto her ass, tucking her knees up tight to her chest. What was her problem? Why couldn't she stop picking at scabs until they bled all over the place? He wants to waste his life as some stupid squire that runs around waving swords and shouting 'For our freedom!' So what? Not like it was her life.

  But it's so stupid. He could have been anything he wanted to be. Like a farmer, or a healer like his mom. Myra flared up her fist, certain she was alone so no one else would see the play of magic. Maybe not so much like his mother, but he could have brewed up potions and other stuff. Those are useful too even from non-mages. People seemed to prefer it to a scary robe knocking on your door saying "I'm here to help!"

  So, farmer or potion master. That was two good options. There was, uh,
probably other jobs way off on the other side of Ferelden. Fancy ones maybe, like clothiers... The image of Gavin attempting to sew a gown as elegant as the ones her sister wore flashed through Myra's brain and she couldn't bite down a chuckle. She could see him wrapped up in a ball of thread, needle poised in confusion as his entire body was somehow knotted into the fabric bolt.

  Forget it. Forget him. Head back home. She'd skipped over whatever meeting she could have managed with her father. No doubt Karelle didn't even tell him Myra was around. The Chamberlain preferred a productive king to an attentive father. It didn't matter, certainly her mother had some big thing planned for her to do. Go here. Talk to this guy. Chase after a criminal that we'll no doubt be tracking in a month. Oh and don't use your magic, Myra. It's bad and scares people. They might find all those sparkly colors terrifying and piss themselves.

  Lifting up her fingers, Myra tried to thread apart the veil. Gavin's mom wanted to teach her how to do it as elegantly as she could but it was like attempting to get a bronto to sit down to tea. You could try, but don't expect much out of it. Lots of energy bit back at her attempt, Myra punching her way inside. It worked, fire dancing up and down the tips of her fingers, but something told her it wasn't right. It was too much work for her to cast simple spells. The way Lady Rutherford talked, she should be able to set entire neighborhoods on fire.

  Not that she would. Myra wasn't one of those bad mages, she just wished she could figure out how to live up to that potential people kept talking about. She didn't want to head home, to trudge on back to her mother's life of running around fixing all of Denerim's stupid problems. It was drudgery, even if to her friends it seemed exciting.

  Yeah, sure, running over a bridge, sliding off a roof...yawn...catching a bad guy by leaping right on top of him. By the fifth time, it was a bit dull and barely worth her efforts. Plus her mom would yell at her for taking the high road even if it did catch the guy faster. She just hated being shown up by her daughter.