@gctawaygirl
A scream pierced the stillness of the Trevelyan household when the sun had scarcely been above the horizon an hour. On what should have been a quiet morning of rest, only a handful of servants were awake to recognize the Dowager Duchess's cry and rush toward the kitchens where they found her standing frozen, both hands pressed over her mouth and the color drained entirely from her face.
Edmure stumbled through the doorway beneath the dead weight of the duke. His hands, his tunic, and even his face were stained crimson, while blood poured from Anders, dripping steadily onto the floor with every labored step. Outside, the duke's horse stamped and tossed its head in agitation, its pale coat smeared with blood from saddle to flank. Anders hung limp in Edmure's arms, his skin ghostly pale, his head lolling against Edmure's shoulder without the slightest sign of life.
"Doctor," Edmure rasped, the word catching in his throat before he found enough breath to bark, "Get a doctor!"
