“I thought she was,” Guinevak admitted quietly, looking down at her hands. That really was at the heart of why she was here; the feeling of betrayal, the feeling of having betrayed her in return. She wanted to know how much was real and how much had been deception. It seemed to be her lot in life, to care more for people than they did for her, and each time it happened it was like a little piece of her being chipped away and leaving only the voice of a hurt, lonely child asking: Why? Am I so unloveable? How else did a princess end up down here in the darkness of the dungeon, seeking some sort of validation from a Saxon that had tried to kill her? Looking up at him, she gave a small smile, grateful that he was compassionate rather than mocking her for her foolishness - as she would not have blamed him for doing. “Complicated doesn’t quite seem enough, somehow.” Although she couldn’t quite say that being on the same side made things any simpler. It seemed it was just the nature of the human heart to be complicated. War was just one more obstacle. She looked over at him, hearing again that sad voice in her head whispering, What if you have nothing else to define yourself by? But she couldn’t bring herself to voice that, it sounded so selfish and self-pitying, especially considering the situations they were in. So instead she asked, “What else defines you?”
It would be so easy to lie, to tell her that Cynethryth was a terrible actress so she probably actually cared for the Lady, or that she had mentioned her to him somehow and that their friendship had meant something. But if he were in the Dame’s place, he would not want to be lied to, so instead he remained silent. Any sort of validation that she sought was long lost, and to Osgar it didn’t seem to matter any more. It was done, she was gone. “I cannot tell you what you meant to her, so if that is what you seek then you are wasting your time. But if you truly cared for her, then I can tell you that she probably died with pride. Knowing her, she died content to be giving her life for a cause she believed most ardently in. As for any harm she inflicted upon you, I wouldn’t take it personally. Warriors have a different way of seeing people, the same way you can’t feel sympathy for a stranger the same way you would feel it for someone you love. It’s the only way to survive the bloodshed, and Cynethryth was one hell of a survivor. I may not have known her well, but from a few brief encounters I can tell you that few believed as passionately in a cause as she did. She probably didn’t see you as an enemy... more like an obstacle. I don’t know if that’s any better. You can grow fond of an obstacle, I suppose.” He stopped, not sure if he was making any sense, even to himself. Osgar arched a brow in surprise, curious as to why she would possibly give a damn about what defined him. It seemed more than likely she was merely trying to distract herself, but he didn’t exactly have anything better to do, and her company was better than what she was used. “A few months ago I would have told you my stellar sense of humour.” He smiled slightly, leaning back. “Though I seem to have been the only one that found it that way. Or perhaps my short temper, though that’s hardly something I’d like to define me. I can say that I’ve been forced to... adjust that aspect of myself since I got in here. Armed guards versus injured prisoner in a fight caused by my clever retorts aren’t exactly the best odds. I suppose... one thing I can say with some pride is that I will probably die soon, which means I will die a man with no regrets. i’ve believed in everything I have done, and I have not held back. I think that’s as good a thing to be defined by as any.”
