The feeling of uneasiness that she’d felt since the Keep was invaded had never really left her. While she was almost certain that she was secure in her position, there was much mystery as to what would happen to everyone else, those who had sided with the Vitellos. Though if she were being honest with herself, which she had not allowed since such candidness had caused her to write a letter, there was really only one man who she felt concern for. Only one whose welfare she felt the need to know about.
But she’d done little about it other than spending longer than she’d like thinking all over in the peace of her room.
Walking the halls didn’t fill her with the same usual confidence, there were too many wildlings that she didn’t know what to make of and because of that she’d kept to her room whenever she could, only venturing out now and again when the boredom grew too strong.
Though again, if she were being honest it was partially to avoid the very person who was taking up so many of her thoughts.
Two knocks on her door pulled her from similar thoughts again and she rose, smoothing her hands over her skirts as she approached the door slowly. There was some hesitancy in her steps, something she’d barely known until recently and Mercy couldn’t fathom who had possibly sought her out. But after a moment she pulled the door open to meet the face of whoever it was.
Brown eyes widened as she found herself tilting her head back so they could meet blue one and a single name escaped her lips.
Had her hands not been resting on the doorframe perhaps she would have reached for him, gods knew that slim fingers itched to. To check he wasn’t just a figment of her imgaination. But she was rendered motionless by the sight of him.
She had so much to say. So much that the words that all rushed to come out all at once instead found themselves getting lodged in her throat and leaving her uncharacteristically both speechless and breathless.
What could she say in person that she hadn’t already in her letter? Her words were so much less eloquent in person.
A letter than she was still none the wiser over how it had been received. Such was her hesitancy, now cause completely by the man in front of her. As much as her heart seemed to be begging her to say something heartfelt, to carry on the honesty she’d allowed pen and paper to tell, Mercy just couldn’t seem to voice it.
So instead she settle for a truth wrapped in formality.
When she opened the door, Hector felt the weight of the letter, folded small as he could get it, in his breast pocket.
“Mercy.” He said, his voice quiet, “I...”
Hector faltered. Words were not his forte, and as much as he wanted to reach forward, to hold her close and tangle his hands in her long dark hair, he knew it was no way to great a lady, and Mercy was not only a lady, but the one he...
“You as well.” He managed, rubbing a hand at his stubbled chin. It had been nearly two days since he had shaven, and he was certain he looked like a street rat at this point, a look he had managed to pull of as a younger man, but one he tried to avoid now, as it made him look far too much like a Vitello.
His eyes were locked on her. She was here. He was here.
“I got your letter,” he said softly, and reached forward, his body ignoring the screaming in his mind as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Mercy,” He said again, She was here. She was safe. He was safe. His hand lingered, and when it finally fell back to his side, he took the smallest of steps forward and took a breath, deep, clean air.
He was a traitor to the Vitello name
He remembered his brother’s eyes on him as he left the throne room, the way his niece had cried out in the night.
He was simply Hector now.
The letter was weightless, but he felt it still, crushed against his heart.