As the waning sun made its retreat into the distant tree canopy, Saidelia spent her time with an old friend. The sack cloth horse that she galloped back and forth across the windowsill was worn and weathered. A gift from a family who had loved it previously. Its button eyes were mismatched with neither having been the original it came with. Its burlap fur was worn to a fine grain, and it was patched in so many different places that it was mostly thread by now. Still, she loved Stormy, as she had come to name it.
She crouched low, shifting her view to that of the sun over the trees, just barely visible. In a feat of pure athleticism, Stormy vaulted clear over the canopy, eclipsing the sun. In the young girl's mind, her chestnut and roan fur shone brilliantly in the light before a graceful landing on the floor. The mare pranced and paraded a few times before the girl was brought back to reality.
Several soft knocks at the door a few feet over were Saidelia's responsibility while her father unwound from his day mucking stables. She quickly hid Stormy underneath the bottom rail of a nearby cabinet before pushing herself to her feet. She had been expecting a neighbor bringing foodscraps, or a nearby guard in to check on her father. The man that answered the door was someone else entirely.
Clad in armor, with a sword on his hip at eye-level to the young girl. The view only became more imposing as her eyes drifted upwards. A chain shirt across a broad chest, padded leather underneath. He looked haggard, his armor replete with signs of stress from a long journey. A chiseled jaw, over which a jagged, hastily-maintained beard grew; likely cut with a knife. All complete with a mane of raven black hair, flecked with slowly-encroaching streaks of white. His dour expression softened marginally as he gazed down at the young girl.
With a soft grunt of effort, he lowered himself down to one knee, forcing a soft smile. Tucked underneath his arm was a dusty bottle of wine. Saidelia took a half-step back, forcing him to catch the door before it shut on him. His pale blue eyes regarded her calmly, the man gently extending a hand that she gazed down at with trepidation.
"Good evening, ma'am. My name is Syler Dominicus. Would you happen to be Miss Draconis?"
She eyed him warily like a cornered dog, a single sharp nod her only reply.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I'm an old friend of your father's. What's your name?"
She felt her skin crawl, and the pit of her stomach fell out. She mustered up all her courage. "Saidelia," she murmured, never taking her eyes off the man while she half hid behind the door.
His smile nearly broke as he regarded the young girl, slowly withdrawing the hand she seemed keen to avoid. "Well, I'm honored Miss Saidelia. Would it be at all possible if I were to come in? I'm actually quite keen to speak with your father. Is he here tonight?"
Rather than answer, Saidelia stood aside, leaving the man to enter the dingy, cramped room. In lieu of directing the man, her eyes cast a sidelong glance into the room where her father was. The imposing man graciously nodded at the girl, careful to remain measured in his movements as he sidestepped her to follow her eyes.
Once the man's back was turned, Saidelia watched him advance into the next room. She took up behind the entryway to the small room. Seated on one of the stools at the small kitchen table was the master of the house. Such as it was. With brilliant red hair, an unkempt beard, and loosely-fitting clothes bearing innumerable stains sat Oreyn. He sat slumped forward with his splayed elbows on the table, holding a dented metal cup. Its pungent contents mixed into his beard as he drank. His eyes widened, and his rosy color drained as he set eyes on the man in the doorway.
"Dominicus," was all he managed to murmur, slowly rising to his feet. He leaned on the table for support, a single fist clenched.
"Easy, Oreyn. I'm not here for trouble. I saw you working the stables earlier this evening. I just want to talk."
Saidelia watched her father's eyes narrow, the man staggering back to put the table between the pair as he sized up their guest. "Not sure why you thought I'd be willing to talk about the old days with you, Syler. Get the fuck out of my home."
The quiet man drew a deep breath, letting out a quiet sigh as he slowly withdrew the bottle from underneath his arm, setting it on the table. "Oreyn, please. Just-- just hear me out. I brought wine, in case that makes things easier."
The man's ears perked up. He eyed the bottle's dark contents before casting his gazed up to the dark stranger. "Fucking... Fine, fine. You've got until the bottle's gone. But we've only got the one cup. And I don't want your fucking mouth on my bottle."
Syler closed his eyes for a moment, taking another breath before nodding. "Understandable," He finally admitted. Oreyn glanced down at the cup, casting the knight an expectant glare. Syler said nothing, uncorking the bottle and serving his host. As he sat across from Oreyn and watched him drink in silence, the tension in the room started to build.
Finally Syler sighed softly, clearing his throat. "I suppose this isn't going to get any easier."
"Nope."
"Look, Oreyn, I understand why you don't want to see me. Even after all this time. I thought about leaving you be when I saw you today. But I guess... Well, I guess I felt guilty. For the way things have been through the years. For the way I treated you when we were younger. For everything, I suppose. I just want you know how truly sorry I am for how I treated you. Even if you can't forgive me, I think you should know you didn't deserve any of what I put you through."
The silence hung in the air for an age. The pair sat at the table. Syler's gaze soft, and contemplative. Oreyn's reproachful and full of venom. Finally, the man spoke. "So that's it, then? Just a 'sorry, here's wine?' No hard feelings, I guess?"
Syler closed his eyes, swallowing his pride as he nodded. "It is. At this point, it's all I can do. I could sit here and make excuses. I could blame our fathers. I could say we were young and stupid. I could say any number of things to you to try and mitigate my part in our relationship, Oreyn. But I'm not doing that. All I can do now is tell you how sorry I am. When all the wealth, all the pomp and circumstance, and all the bravado are nothing more than a distant memory, I'm left with only what I did. I'm left with the shame that keeps me up at night. I did things that I'm not proud of for no other reason than to hurt you, because I made you out to be some kind of villain. I wish it wasn't, but it's a part of who I am. So the only thing I can do to repair that damage is to tell you how much it eats at me all these years later. All I can do is tell you that you were right. About what happened, about my family. Hell, maybe even about me. So I'm sorry... For everything."
Once again, a thick and pervasive silence clung to the room, suffocating the pair. Finally, when Oreyn stared back at the man, he sneered. "Fuck you."
Syler held his breath for a moment. He sank his teeth into his lip until they were stained red. Finally, he nodded, starting to stand. "Fair enough, Oreyn. I'll leave you be."
"Sit down, you puke. You don't get to just leave. Look at me. Look at me, you piece of shit!" he roared, slamming his fists on the table, sending the cup rattling as it threatened to tip over. From her hiding spot, Saidelia trembled. She could see the back of Syler's head as he raised himself up to meet Oreyn's fiery gaze. The stablehand stood over the table, hunched over it like a wolf ready to spring on a rabbit.
"Over twenty years. Twenty fucking years. It might feel like a distant fucking memory to you, but that's because you got to wash your goddamn hands of it! You got to bury it, Syler. You didn't have to think about it because it offended your prissy sensibilities! You stole my fucking innocence! You remember that tournament? The one they disqualified you in? You remember that day? The day where you knocked me down, and then you stomped on my fucking knee? You remember that sound it made? Of course you do. Another vague afterthought in your life. One you don't have to remember because it happened so long ago. Me? I think about it every fucking day. You want to know why? Because I can't fucking walk without remembering it! How many fucking indignities did I suffer at your hands, Syler? All those quips you made just loud enough for me to hear, all those blows you landed when nobody else was looking! I fade in and out of your memories, and maybe you feel guilty about it because you did something you think was beneath you. But you know what? It wasn't beneath you. Just like you said, that's who you are. You know what you are, don't you? Yeah? You're the same fucking marauder you were when you were younger. You're no better than a fucking orc! Violent, ill-tempered, and cruel, just like your fucking father! Guess that's why the Dominicus house was so cozy with them, yeah? Now you show up here because you feel like you're better than you were? Let me tell you something, Syler. You'll always be the same."
Oreyn's fists shook. His face had regained the color it had lost. He was frothing. His face was red, and tears streamed down his cheeks while he howled at the man. All at once, a deadly calm came over him.
"You might hide it behind some soft expression, and a few honeyed words. But here me now, 'Sir Dominicus,' I don't care how rotten you feel about it, I don't care what you do to make up for what you've done. Blackguards like you don't get redemption. No matter how many years you've spent. No matter how many yet remain. You'll always be a monster, and you don't need me to tell you to know it in your heart, Syler"
Oreyn lifted the half-empty cup, holding it over his head and casting it across the table to collide with the man's chest. In the air, a splash of wine struck the ornate sword and shield hanging over the mantle. Syler winced, feeling a flash of rage. His hand twitched, starting to reach for his sword before freezing. "There he is! The heir apparent to house Dominicus! Draw your fucking sword then, you coward!" Oreyn pounded his fists against the table again, howling at the restrained knight. "You fucking coward! Let's see who you really are!"
A clatter behind the scene was heard as Saidelia scrambled away from the doorway. Oreyn watched her flee with a glare. Syler drew a lungful of air, pushing himself away from the table and snarling through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry, Oreyn. Keep the bottle." He left the table, hands balled into fists as the man behind him howled. "Run away, Syler! Just like you've done since the first war! You make me sick, just like you did to your fucking father!" The door rattled on its hinges as Syler left.
Hiding just off the road in an outcropping of trees, Saidelia watched as the knight stormed down the road. Each one of them froze as their eyes met. Syler drew a shuddering breath. He slowly dropped his hunched shoulders. His fingertips twitch as he unballed his fists. His jaw unclenched, and his gaze softened. Once again, he extended a hand towards the girl.
"I'm... I'm sorry you had to see that, kid. Are you alright?"
Once again, the only reply was a stiff, practiced nod. Her eyes bounced back and forth, wary of her surroundings.
As Syler drew long breaths with increasing steadiness, he slowly held up his palms towards the girl. He took a slow half-step "Easy kid, I'm not going to hurt you. You had dinner yet?" Saidelia shook her head. The man sighed, a scowl creeping onto his face as he glanced back at the house. "Me neither. You want a bowl?" Despite obvious trepidation, Saidelia slowly advanced from her hiding spot, the pair heading down the road together.
Syler stared down at the child as the pair walked, Saidelia avoiding his gaze. "Did you really do all that stuff?" she finally asked, keeping the knight in the corner of her vision. "I wish I could say I didn't. But yes, I did." "Why?" Syler regarded her with a soft, sad smile, remaining silent for a long while. "I would say it's complicated, but it's not. I've done some bad things. Your father isn't out of line for saying I can't redeem myself. But I guess at some point, I decided I have to try. In case something like that is possible." Saidelia slowed her pace at the edge of town, finally looking up to meet Syler's gaze. "Will he?" Syler sat stunned for a moment, feeling a sense of deep-seated dread. His voice shook slightly as he stared down at the girl. "Hold onto your innocence, Saidelia. I don't know if there is hope for your father or I, but there ought to be for you."
(Thanks for the ask, @dawncloudrising! It's only a little late!)
