Horrified, Arwen shook her head.

“Well,” a deep sigh. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

“What?” Arwen balked. “You are not suggesting…?”

“Look, do you want this arm checked out or not?” the doctor’s tone grew impertinent. “I’ve seen worse. The amount of hairy balls I’ve had to caress in my practise is unforgiveable, so trust me when I say I’m numb to this.”

Arwen squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. The doctor scoffed. “Next time, wear an undershirt, or get your tailors to sew you a uniform with shorter sleeves.”

With those apathetic words, Arwen just went for it. Under the doctor’s impassive gaze, she used her left arm to slide her uniform off of her top and then lay down exposed on the semi-warmed table. Her cheeks burned with the humiliation. She resisted the urge to cross her arm over her chest. “Let’s see,” the doctor wasted no time in examining her left arm. “What happened to it?”

“I… uh,” Arwen cleared her throat. “I dislocated it a day ago.”

The doctor shot her a harsh look. “You should’ve told me before using it to undress yourself! Anyways,” he sighed and leaned closer to her shoulder, “no obvious lumps or squaring. Don’t see much swelling either. Whoever reset this did a good job, despite my grievances with them doing so without medical guidance. Can you move it alright?”

Arwen nodded. “It hurts a fair bit when I do…”

“I would expect,” the doctor affirmed. “I will give you something for the pain. In the meantime, can I confirm you’ve been using your left arm extensively since it was reset back into its socket?”

“Y-yes?”

The doctor puffed a blast of air out of his nose. “Not a good idea, your Teyrn. I’m surprised you’re not in agony after that. From now on, you’ll be wearing a sling to support your shoulder. Once daily, remove your sling and do some exercises, like this…” the doctor performed various movements with his arms, “and continue even if it feels uncomfortable. If it gets painful, however, stop and retry in slower movements.”

“How long will I have to wear the sling?” Arwen supressed a groan at the prospect. With her right arm out of commission, she’d only be more useless than she already was.

“Three or four days,” the doctor swayed his head as he estimated. “After two weeks, you’ll be pretty much back to normal, but avoid intense physical exercise that involves the shoulder for another two months.”

Arwen sighed. “Got it.”

The doctor ignored her impatience, probably sensing the Princess’s intense discomfort. He swiftly moved onto her right arm. “Now, this is baffling,” he admitted. “What has gone on here?”

“Lightning magic,” Arwen confessed. “I was in a desperate situation and had to channel a large amount through my arm to save myself. I failed to control such an intense amount and-”

“Jolted yourself,” the doctor finished for her. “I must confess my ignorance to these types of wounds.”

“It’ll heal,” Arwen asserted. “The scars will fade soon. I can already bend my elbow slightly and my fingers can now move independently of one another. Another day or two and I’ll have most of my movement back.”

A frown. “It sounds like you’re experienced in this type of injury.”

“It happens during training on occasion. Usually on a digit such as a finger, but I once completely paralysed my legs when I was fourteen after I lost control of my magic. They healed, and so will this.”

“Is it always a temporary paralysis?”

Arwen nodded. “For the most part… but in instances where I truly lose control, permanent damage can be made on my body.”

The doctor seemed genuinely interested. “Fascinating. Was that the case for that scar on your chest?”

Arwen’s cheeks burned red. “Y-yes, though a fellow lightning mage did that years ago.”

“Another lightning mage?”

“Yes, though I am afraid I cannot share details. Now,” Arwen cleared her throat. “May I put my shirt back on?”

“Well… I’m afraid I can’t offer any opinion on your right arm,” the doctor admitted sheepishly, “so, yes, please cover yourself up.”

Arwen moved to comply, but the doctor halted her. “Ah, ah, ah. No. I will do so.”

“You think me unable to dress myself?” Arwen’s outraged voice was tainted with embarrassment.

“I think you stupid enough to risk your arm because of your rushed attempt to cover yourself. Allow me,” the doctor grabbed her uniformed shirt and motioned with his head. “Sit up.”

Arwen did so. “Lift up your left arm- slowly!”

The doctor laced her left arm through the uniform sleeve. He then gently lifted her right arm and repeated the process until they were both secure. With a downwards tug, the uniform slid down over Arwen’s body once again. The Princess sighed in relief, grateful she wasn’t utterly bare chested in front of the cantankerous stranger.

“Stay there,” the doctor turned away from her. “I’ll sling your arm now.”

A few minutes later, Arwen stepped outside of the doctor’s house with the old man himself in tow. He thrust a small leather pouch into Cai’s hands and reiterated his commands for rest and recovery for the injured patients. “Finished your examination?” Cai opened and pouch and curiously inspected its contents, finding a small vial of what looked to be syrupy liquid and a set of leaves wrapped around what felt like round stones.

Arwen blushed and simply nodded.

“We should’ve peaked in through the window,” Owen mumbled from nowhere.

“Owen!” Eryk exclaimed, while Gwyn slapped the archer across the back of his head and Arwen shot him a horrified look.

“What?!” the man rubbed the back of his head.

“Don’t you have a girl back at home?” Cai sounded amused.

Owen huffed. “I can enjoy my chicken dish, yet still admire the steak on another table.”

Four sets of rolled eyes met his vulgar analogy. “You’re vile, Owen,” Arwen scoffed.

“And you’re like a little cat when you’re angry, Princess.”

Arwen stepped forward. “What did you just call me?!”

It was Owen’s turn to scoff. “Are you going to try and threaten me? You’ve no arms! What will you do, headbutt me?”

“Guys,” Cai stepped between them. “Shocking to see you so confrontational, Owen.”

“Not my fault the Princess can’t take a joke,” the archer sighed. “But I admit I’m a tad nervous here…”

“Why would you be nervous?” Eryk asked.

“I’m not good around Helvetians.”

Arwen couldn’t exactly fault him for that, yet his comments barbed at her. “As much as I enjoy banter,” Gwyn said with a grimace, “can I have my pain medicine now?”

Cai cringed. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

-cut-

After two days of rest in Ffin, which passed by uneventfully and was mostly taken up by the group exploring the many winding streets and bystreets of the rustic town, and another trip to the doctor’s to check on their healing, Arwen and her retainers set off down south into the Ceirios Blossoms on their way home.

All were healing wonderfully. Gwyn was still severely sore, but the medicinal leaves helped the pain a great deal, and he was more energetic by the day. Eryk’s rib was still bruised, but he was in otherwise good shape, and Arwen’s facial bruise had almost entirely faded along with the branching scars on her right arm. She still wore a sling on her left arm, made out of a triangular shaped white bandage that dug annoyingly into the back of her neck, but only had the rest of the day to wear it before she was allowed to take it off. Her right arm was completely moveable, though it hurt to do so and she couldn’t many any sudden, jerky movements with it, and her left arm was responding to the doctor’s daily exercises well. Her throat felt a lot better and her voice had returned to normal, the syrupy substance that she was taking having initially burnt a cold fire down the back of her mouth but quickly quelled into a soothing coolness. She felt the odd pain-relieving leaves, which were wrapped around some sort of smooth stone-like object and needed to be held underneath her tongue, were bitter and caused her to salivate all over herself, so she handed hers over to Gwyn to use instead.

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The night was spent in an awkward silence, the group having extended their travelling by a couple of hours to pass the destitute carriage surrounded by rotting corpses and frozen frogs. The next day, the trip to Gerllaw was utterly uneventful and, after informing the guards stationed there of the attack and the dead bodies, to which they were promised a small force would be sent to clean up the mess, they stayed overnight at Moethus Inn- much to Cai’s grumbling over expenses- and entered the Kingdom’s walls the very next evening.

Unlike the last time they separated, Arwen bid every one of her retainers a warm farewell before departing towards the castle. She owed them that much, after risking their lives to protect her, when she couldn’t even follow a simple instruction to allow them to save her. Unfortunately, she had missed dinner and therefore had to eat alone, but not before giving her father her report on the trip.

“Good work on Ffin,” King Blayney started with praise. “But I am deeply wounded to hear of the vampire attack on your way there- you did well to continue the mission despite this. I would not have faulted you for turning around. How are your injuries?”

Arwen smiled at the complements and raised both her arms slightly. “My arms are now fine,” indeed, her right arm had completely returned to normal at this stage. “But my left arm is a bit sore at times.”

“Alright. I will give you a month to recover. I had another task for you upon your return, but,” King Blayney’s eyes turned weary with concern, “I cannot justify sending my injured daughter back out there without proper rest. I… I’m sorry you had to go through that, dear.”

And so, Arwen resumed her normal duties. There were various balls and events she was forced to attend to coddle up to nobility and the rich alike, her magic training continued, and her father even allowed her to learn how to ride horses, a prospect that had always excited the Princess. In her free time, Arwen’s desperation to contribute to something motivated her to secretly work on extending the range of her lightning magic despite skipping several steps required to truly attain results, and when she inevitably failed to meaningfully garner any form of attack that didn’t require physical contact, she surprised herself by meandering towards the military training grounds to ward away her dark thoughts.

There, she’d practise with throwing knives in the archery section where she found herself struggling to properly embed the knife into the wooden targets. After watching her entire set clang off the targets and fall uselessly onto the floor, she’d either storm off or simply watch Owen practise with various kinds of bows, all of which had differing shapes, lengths, and even strings. Sometimes, she’d watch Cai duel opponents in the sword quadrant, or stand with Gwyn during polearm drills, where he’d regale her in tales of his time in the military whilst lamenting at the fact that he could only stand and watch with her, for even the slightest of taps to his ribs would’ve had him searing in pain.

Eryk also appeared frequently, and seemed intent on practising the sword. Cai had remarked to her that he still felt the vampire was untrustworthy, but he nonetheless offered him help in practising. “He’s got shockingly good technique, but he’s still very inexperienced,” was Cai’s prognosis. Still, Eryk seemed to be making strides, whilst Arwen felt static in her skill. Her aim was average, but she couldn’t stick the target. Her magic was strong, but she lacked control and range. Her horse-riding was coming along nicely, but she was still new and struggled to gain that ‘connection’ with the animal that her instructor always seemed to talk about. It was quickly beginning to feel to her that, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to achieve anything worthwhile with her life. Those thoughts often left her begging fate for the simpler times before her conscription into service.

At first, Arwen’s presence always caused a minor stir. But her frequent visits to the training grounds became more and more normalised until most hardly even battered an eye in her direction upon her arrival. After a particularly sore session of private magic training, she had invited Cai to her secret meadow for a favour.

“I never knew this place existed,” Cai had marvelled at the small patch of nature tucked between towering walls. “How did you ever find this?”

“Please tell no one of this,” Arwen struggled to keep a pleading tone out of her voice, for sharing such an intimate space with the knight felt wrong to her on so many levels. “I really don’t want people coming here.”

“Hey,” Cai raised his hands. “I won’t.”

“I- I think I need your help,” Arwen recalled when the radiant knight’s magic had caught alight upon the vampire woman, Elain’s, arm which had allow Cai to fuel the magic from range. She explained that if she could learn to replicate his technique with her lightning magic, that it may aide in grasping the technique required to project her magic outward in bolts.

“I learnt to fire my bolts of light by the way you’re currently doing so,” Cai, at least, appeared receptive to the idea. “But I’m willing to try and teach you to perpetuate and spread magic on a target, provided it will translate to your lightning.”

Though translate it did not. After an entire week of vain practise, Arwen realised that she was doing no wrong. That her technique or her skills was adequate for the task. More so, she realised she was trying to fit a square into a circular hole.

“I think it’s because your magic burns slowly,” Arwen explained to Cai when he asked for clarification. “When you enchant your sword and then drop it, your magic burns for a brief period before losing its power. With lightning, the magic rushes instantaneously into the ground the second the sword’s blade touches it. The same goes for a target, I think. I can innately control magic, like you, when in contact with it. But the second I lose that touch, it dissipates faster than I can muster the concentration to try and perpetuate it.”

“So, all of our training was for nought?” Cai summarised.

Arwen averted her gaze and sighed. “I think so.” Another failure to add to the list.

Cai, surprisingly, took the news in stride. “That’s fine. I think we should still keep meeting up, though.”

Arwen realigned her gaze with his. “Why?”

“I like spending time with you, Arwen,” the confession came spilling out of the knight’s lips. “More specifically, I like you, even if you are really rude and annoying sometimes.”

“Oh.” Arwen tensed at the sudden intimacy. “Uh…”

“Will you give us a go?” Cai searched her eyes with his own, as if trying to ascertain the answer from her soul. When Arwen hesitated, the knight’s posture slackened somewhat. “I suppose you want some time to think about it?”

Arwen shook her head. “I’m sorry, Cai, but after my last… partner, I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet. Not now, maybe not even years from now.”

Cai’s face dimmed. He took a step back and half-smiled, trying to clear the awkward air that had stagnated between the two. “Hey, it’s all good! I understand. May I… ask about him? Your old partner?”

Arwen almost refused. She didn’t like sharing. And her past partner was someone she’d like to forget, but talking helped, according to father, and maybe a friend to confide in was beneficial. “His name was Bran Tudor,” Arwen’s eyes glazed at the recollection of his haunting smile. “He was an arranged marriage to me by father when I was eleven years old.”

Cai interjected in a surprised tone. “Eleven?”

“Such is the burden of royalty,” Arwen’s mouth twitched. “Bran was fifteen himself, meaning we’d marry on my own fifteenth birthday- when he was nineteen, which would’ve been more than a year ago now, when I came of age. He was highly religious and wanted to join the Church’s Holy Sages.”

“Did you dislike him?”

“No, the Princess exhaled deeply. “N- nothing like that. Bran was like a… hero, to me. I looked up to him. I think I might’ve loved him, though it was hard to tell as such a young age. He died when I was thirteen, when he would’ve been your age.”

Cai’s expression softened. “I’m… very sorry to hear that.”

“Nothing affected me like Bran’s passing did,” the words spilled from Arwen’s lips like a torrent bursting through a dam. “After I learnt of the news… I just stopped. I haven’t been able to look any anyone else in the same way since.”

“Did your father try to find a replacement?”

“He did,” Arwen’s smile was mirthful. “But I had none of it. I was rude to my new suitors, sullen, angry. I even bit one of them once, if I recall. I made myself as unappealing as possible, until they all refused to marry me. After that, I told my father I would continue my behaviour until he gave up. We had a massive argument. A massive one! But, arranging marriages for an unwilling daughter is highly taboo, so I eventually won out.”

“Well,” Cai rubbed the back of his head with his gloved hand. “Thank you for telling me that. I think this is where I try and relate to you with a tragic story of my own, but you know of the only thing that’s really hit me in life. Aside from that, I’ve had a pretty stable upbringing.”

Arwen quirked her eyebrow. “I am glad to hear that.”

“So, are you still willing to meet as always? As training partners,” Cai reworded his previously romantic offer. “I know we have wildly differing magic, but I’m trying to reach my Mage Knight rank and I think we could help each other improve.”

“Fine,” Arwen shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“Does this mean we’re officially friends now?” Cai asked in a joking tone.

Friends. Arwen never liked anyone enough to consider them a friend, except Bran. But after all their shared experiences and time together… was it truly inaccurate to say they weren’t? Another question filled her head, but she tried her best to ignore that one; am I deserving of friends?

“Yes,” she decided to try and see what having a friend was like, “we’re now friends.”

As promised, the two met up further in secret for their magic training. The aura around them was awkward after Cai’s love confession, though it eventually dissipated as the two simply pretended it never happened. Cai wanted to work on improving the accuracy of his light bolts, but for risk of accidentally slicing through one of the walls, he held off and merely tried to amplify the enchantment effect to his body, making him slightly stronger and faster so long as he could maintain the mental strain. Arwen worked out her bolts and let loose her ugly side often as she failed time and time again. She snapped at him when he suggested she was trying too early in her development, and Cai often bore the brunt of her ill humour, but he never got outwardly mad at her and always showed up the next day as if nothing had happened.

For a while, Arwen had settled into a nice routine. Her arms were completely back to normal, though she still couldn’t use her left arm for any heavy lifting according to the castle’s physician. Gwyn had healed enough to risk his training routine again, despite advisories not to, and took a ‘just don’t get hit’ approach to training. Eryk’s swordplay was improving drastically, though he still had leaps and bounds to go, but he seemed to glow evermore at each day as his patience never gave way to his many failures and mistakes he made along the way, enabling a healthy approach to rapid improvement. Even Cai confessed he was impressed with the vampire. “He’s got the works of an excellent soldier in him,” he had told Arwen when they were both taking a break from training their magic. “I just don’t like what we saw when we fought that vampire, Elain- was that her name?”

News of Helvetia had temporarily rocked the boat of contentment, for the charismatic King Fiske was experiencing a heavy set of pushbacks from opposition over his ‘weak willed’ relinquishment of Cyfoeth’s territory. For a while, Arwen’s father was afraid of potential repercussions rippling their way to the country, but King Fiske had sent a warm letter a mere week later reporting all was good. By now, Cyfoeth had its soldiers at every town and village that was once annexed by the Helvetians and the adaptation process was running smoothly. The Church had apparently sent an investigation team to Alaru, her father told her over dinner after thinking the news would peak Arwen’s interest, but they had found no sign of the ‘Dark Entity’ that reportedly roamed the woods.

Arwen personally didn’t think they looked very hard, but maybe she was being judgemental or was trying to justify her own lack of progress with it. The Church had also overlooked the killing of a vampire on the holy ground of the Ceirios Blossoms after her father voraciously defended her actions and deflected the responsibility onto his own broad shoulders. Despite their initial aggravation of murder occurring within the Blossoms, they soon admitted that it was in self-defence, and that the killing of a blood-crazed vampire was only beneficial to the world.

And thus, all was quiet. Until one day, King Blayney called for the Princess with another mission in mind.