Week Four: Tuesday - Narrative
The night was late. Within hours the sun would take the sky and a new day would begin. Diarmad was, as he had been for days before, standing before the door to Asya’s room. The only time he left was to see to his classes, taking that time to catch up on what he could before taking stance once more. If she left he followed, it was his place, it was what he had given word to do. There was not much for Diarmad left to honor within himself but his word was his bond. It was how he was raised; it was what he was taught. Do not give your word unless you mean what you speak.
Long ago he had given his word to protect. It was not simply because of the ties she had created between them that he had done so. It wasn’t at her urging or at her demand. He gave his word because he knew that she needed it. Though prideful she needed one to watch her, to ensure her safety…not always from outside forces, more often then not it was from her own self that Diarmad had need to protect her from. She did not make his job easy, constantly it was a struggle.
Now, however, was different. Again she’d cast him away, speaking words of freedom that were nothing but hollow. How could he be free when she still held that piece of him within her own hands? How could he ever simply walk away knowing at any time she could cause pain to him that no matter his strength or his pride, brought him to his knees. That was not freedom, that was dismissal. As before she dismissed him and he was to do as she spoke, to do as she said. He had before and he regretted the choice. This time he’d not.
He knew she had done something to put her life, and his, at even deeper threat. More then ever his place here was needed. But he knew also that in what she had done…others were at risk. Those that he held dear. Guards he trusted were near them, though it would not appear so. They patrolled as guards always did but they made sure to keep an eye out. Diarmad could not be all places at once, much as he might wish himself able to.
Arms were crossed against his stomach; large wings were curled around his shoulders. He was still; it would nearly seem he was indeed turned to stone there before the door. But no sunlight touched his form, none had for what seemed years now. There was no true rest to be found without that stone flesh but there was no ease for Diarmad within that prison. By the life she had caused him to lead he could go far longer then many without rest or movement. He was uncertain now how long it had been since he’d closed his eyes for a night or a day. But it mattered little.
While her eyes were closed, his own would stay open.
More then once a teacher had come by, a staff member of the school curiously glancing his way but most said nothing. The few that had were given only the simple answer that he was guarding. It didn’t seem sufficient answer to some but none truly pushed it farther then that. It was not just before her door that he lingered, he paced the hall. Yes even here to the staff quarters guards did patrol.
Diarmad rarely ever patrolled only one area, now it was how he spent his nights.
Time ticked by, slowly lights around the castle began to turn on. Hallways lit up, a new school day had begun. Diarmad could hear forms shifting behind their doors beginning to prepare for the day.
Diarmad stayed, lingering until the time of his classes drew him away.