Vera found Dan asleep on the officer's bed in the office they tended to commandeer as their own personal fort, the same office they had met all those years ago. She smiled at finding him asleep once again. The nostalgia began to melt all the worries and frustrations of the day away in an instant.
At least he was on the cot instead of at the desk sleeping on an open book, did he stay up all night studying something? The desk was empty of books and papers, and no candles had been set out burnt out or otherwise. His chain mail and overshirt sat folded on the floor next to his boots but a small black spot among the shining silver caught her attention and she kneeled over to inspect it.
There was a small gash in the links a few twisted and crimped wrong on the edges with dark dried blood crusted in the cracks. Instantly worried she pulled the blanket down and Dan's shirt up to find a white bandage with a small dark spot at its center and the edge of a dark bruise peeking out from the edge of the bandage. She gently splayed her hand out over it wishing she could somehow take the pain away.
Dan startled awake grabbing her hand and twisting it off him as if he was trying to disarm her. Instead of fighting it, she leaned in so it wouldn't hurt as much and reached up and held his face with her free hand.
"Dan, it's me. What's wrong?" she said with concern. "What happened? And who did this to you?" anger seeped into her voice at the end for anyone who hurt her friend was instantly an enemy in her eyes and she wanted to inflict even more bodily harm on whoever had done this. no one hurt her friends and got away with it.
His eyes cleared and he looked away in shame. She slapped him lightly and he looked at her confused and asked, "What was that for?"
"For being stupid. Save that face for when you've cheated on your wife or something else that is actually shameful." getting hurt was nothing to be ashamed of. He was being an idiot again and it was her job to remind him of that.
He screwed up his face at her in utter disbelief at her words, but before he could argue what or how she'd said it she cut him off, to focus on the more important part at hand. "What happened?" she asked him again, this time with an edge of command and desperation.
"Someone tried to stab me last night," he said with a shrug.
"Who?" she asked choosing to ignore the word 'tried' Obviously someone had succeeded in the stabbing part. If they failed, it was at killing him and that filled her with a strong mix of worry and a protective rage.
He shrugged again.
"How do you not know?" she asked exasperated.
"Mark killed him before we were able to get any information out of him," he said with another shrug as if that was a small matter of little importance.
The lack of emotion in his voice told her all she needed to know. He had seen a man's life drain from his eyes in front of him again... and it would haunt him for years as the others had. She wrapped him in a big hug, careful not to squeeze too tightly, but wouldn't let him go.
He struggled weakly for a moment then gave in and finally cried.
They had done this for each other several times over the years, as neither had felt all that comfortable crying in front of their family. She had her father, but he was gruff and at times unsympathetic as most of the northerners tended to be and her uncles were no better and would get visibly uncomfortable if she were to ever cry.
Dan had claimed the queen had comforted him before when he was little, but she could understand why he wouldn't be willing to now, even if she was a kind and sympathetic queen. And he'd never had that close of a relationship with his father.
People often claimed that crying never helped anything, but she disagreed because she had always felt better after a cry compared to just before. what was pointless was ignoring something that caused you pain. Pretending a wound didn't hurt didn't make it better, only treatment and time did. She felt emotional pain was the same. She believed that not only did emotional pain not heal if you ignored it but that it could fester and make you ill, just like an untreated wound. She'd seen it firsthand in how her father never mentioned her mother and her uncles were no better.
After a while, she built a fake fire of candles in the hearth, as an actual fire created too much smoke and might be seen and investigated, and they ate in relative silence for a while until Vera felt the need to nudge him into talking.
"So, I heard some new words today and I was hoping you could enlighten me to their meaning." Vera started offhandedly handing him some snacks she had saved from her lunch.
"Of course, what words?" Dan asked taking a bite of an offered carrot.
"Hoe-er and Lady of the night. "she replied and smirked as he began choking on his food. So, it was as bad as she had guessed. She slapped him on the back a few times until his coughing settled.
"You did that on purpose didn't you?" he asked.
"Maybe just a little, but I really did hear those words, and although I can tell they are more controversial than the term barbarian I don't know what they actually mean."
"How on earth did you hear those words," he asked incredulously.
"In needlepoint class, it was a topic that greatly upset Mrs. Miller."
"I see… Well, you're right, it's not good... but I don't think I can explain that one."
"I guess I could ask my father…"
Dan laughed, "I wish I could see his face when you do. The poor old man might just have a heart attack."
She laughed, he was as tough as nails and nothing phased him, let alone surprised him. He was a rock.
"Thanks," Dan said.
"For what?"
"For everything, being here, comforting me. For always making me laugh in the weariest of ways when I'm having a bad day."
"No problem, that's what friends are for. I can't imagine having to go through something like that... let alone more than once."
"I hope you never have to…" he said sincerely with a heavy helping of worry.
"You know you're old enough now to make it on your own. You could leave the castle and all its deadly drama. You're smart and talented enough that you'd have no trouble finding good work." she pleaded.
She worried about him too, and that fear seemed far more legitimized as he'd already been hurt more than once. Her grandfather had been right when he'd said nobles were dangerous, and the royals it seemed were worse.