Chapter 10 - Just Rosy

I'm thinking of only having one chapter after this one and then it will be complete.



Say loudly if you might want a sequel some time.



I gasped lightly at what Patrick when he said, “Rest well, brother.”

Patrick looked over his shoulder at me, and then walked back to me. “Let's go,” he said. He picked me up and walked toward Varrock.

I laid my head on his shoulder and decided to ask him about his maybe “brother” later. Right now, I just wanted to sleep…

And sleep…

And sleep…

So I closed my eyes and fell asleep in Patrick's arms.



…



The smell of roses is what I woke up too. I found myself in my bed. Light was shining brightly into the house, so I expected it to be early morning. Did I sleep that long?

“Patrick,” I mumbled loudly. I got up and winced. Pain shot up from my stomach and my arm. I walked over to the table. There were roses on it. Red roses. I sniffed them, feeling almost at heaven. But it wasn't quite. Where was Patrick?

The door opened and POOF Patrick was there. “Aay? Thank goodness you are awake. You sleep forever,” he said, walking over to me and planting a kiss on my forehead.

“Did you sleep?” I asked him, noticing the bags under his eyes.

He ran his hand through his hair. “Not really…”

I sat him down and pulled a chair next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He looked hesitant then gave a little nod. “Dav… he was my little brother.

“We grew up with each other. Our parents died, our father being one of the greatest fighters of all until he was murdered in the wilderness when Dav was just around the age of three. I was six.”

I felt so sorry for him.

He continued on. “And our mother… We were one of the poorest families around, you have to understand that. She eventually caught fever and died, leaving us in rags and a very run down home. Dav seemed to bury everything deep inside and seemed to become angry at everyone. As his older brother, I always felt I had to look after him. By the time I was around the age of thirteen, Dav had already become a one of the greatest fighters around for his age. He wouldn't give any one of his opponents mercy.

“One day he was approached by a clan at the age of fifteen. This clan was one of the worst, who would kill anyone in the wilderness, young or old, men, women or children. It didn't matter. He accepted to join their clan, and soon he was a murderer.

“I confronted him about it. I knew that he was angry at the world for taking his childhood away, his parents, and that he should just let it all go. But no, he didn't. My friend…” Patrick took several deep breathes. “He was our caretaker really… He took us in and gave us food, and we stayed there until I was old enough to take care of both of us. I didn't know his name, we just called him Pappy.

“Pappy confronted Dav and tried to make him stop, but Dav wouldn't listen, and he eventually killed Pappy to make him shut up. I found Dav covered in Pappy's blood, right outside our home… Dav committed a real crime, killing in the city, and I was heartbroken. Dav threatened to kill me if I told anyone he committed that crime. I still didn't want Dav to suffer, so I let him get away with it.

“Dav then killed the clan's leader and became the leader.

“I sort of said to you that I had just met my friend when Dav killed him… I just didn't feel like talking about that at that time… I'm sorry for that…”

I shook my head. “You had every reason to, Patrick.”

Patrick looked at his hands. “And from then on, Dav held some sort of grudge against me, seeming to like to see me suffer. I don't know why.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

“Patrick,” I started, putting my hand on his. “Why don't you go home and get some rest.”

He opened his eyes and stood up. “Maybe you're right.”

I gently pushed him out and sent him home, giving a light kiss for goodbye.

I shuddered against the cold wind, and walked back inside and made some hot tea.

What I would like to do now is take a hot bath. Though I stopped getting the basin out when I heard a knock on the door. I walked over and opened it, finding Otaku standing there.

“Otaku? What are you doing here?” I asked. I waved her inside and handed her some hot tea.

She accepted gratefully and took a sip. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

I rubbed my arm and said, “Never better.”

Otaku smiled and said, “I can see that.”

Silence came over us.

Otaku put her cup down. “I actually came over here to see if you and Patrick would like to go to a dance.”

“A dance?” I asked.

“As a celebration for finally getting rid of one of the most feared clan's leader,” Otaku said.

“That would be good,” I said, pondering on the thought. That might actually not be a bad idea.

“King Roald is actually already planning the dance. His guards were having much trouble defeating the clan, so he might honor the ones who killed Dav.”

“But that's us…” I started saying.

“Exactly! Everyone will be there!”

I took a sip and sighed. “I don't know if Patrick will like to go.”

“Why's that?”

“He had some… difficulties with Dav… and he doesn't feel all that good about killing him.”

“Oh,” Otaku said. She leaned back and seemed in thought. She got up. “Thanks for the tea. Tell me when you make up your mind, ok?”

I nodded my head and waved good bye. “Oh, wait, Otaku… what's a good way to spend an afternoon that doesn't require much work?”

“Crafting, I would say. I have some extra clay that I'll drop by the door for you, ok?”

“Thanks,” I said, and she closed the door.

After the door closed I finished pulling out the basin and heated up some water. Finally I sat in the basin, washing all the grime and blood off me.

I spent an hour mostly in there, then put on some clothes, and walked out my door, squeezing some water out of my hair. Sure enough, some clay was there.

It looked already moist enough to work with, and I think the closest place to model clay was in the barbarian village. The barbarians were very creepy and would attack weak civilians that just passed through.

They ignored me, thankfully. They seemed to notice that I knew more about fighting than them, thanks to all that wonderful training.

The potter's wheel was free, there being only two.

I sat the clay on the wheel and slowly started the process. My armed ached a little and I didn't want to move that fast to damage the stitching. After I made about two pots that didn't look that great, I put them in oven and sat down to snooze for a little.

I didn't snooze that long, for a barbarian appeared in the room and attacked someone, making this loud “YYYYEEEEEEEEEAAARRRRRRGGGG!”

I covered my ears and watched the oven.

After about an hour, I took them out and cracked one of them. The other I didn't crack and it turned out pretty nicely.

I carried the pot back to my house and set it on the table. I poured water into the jar and set the roses into it. They smelled lovely.

The smell of food being sold from the center of Varrock compelled me to go there.

When I started walking over there, I saw Patrick heading my way. He looked a little bit better, though the bags under his eyes were still there. He smiled when he saw me and ran up to me.

“Aay, I was just coming to see you,” he said.

“Did you rest?” I asked.

“Only a little,” he answered, taking my arm and leading me to a person selling some food.

“Good,” I said.

We bought some chicken and gobbled it down like hungry lions. Patrick seemed to have cooled off and was doing fine. He joked about something's and I laughed hard at them. Yes. Patrick seemed to be doing just fine.

Some guards approached us and my eyes popped open. “Yes?” I asked.

“The king requests your presence, Sir Patrick and Lady Aay,” the guard said. “Follow us please.”

I shrugged when Patrick looked at me questionably, but I bet I knew what it was going to be about.

Great doors opened and we walked into the room, the king coming to greet us.

I curtsied and said, “Your majesty,” Patrick doing the same, though bowing.

King Roald smiled and waved for us to stop. “Congratulations,” he said. “I want to thank you for defeating the clan's leader Sir Dav Black.”

Patrick seemed to give a hurt smile. “It's nothing to be praised about.”

King Roald gave a laugh. “Why?”

Patrick looked at the ground. “He was my little brother.”

King Roald stopped laughing. “I see.” He put his hand on Patrick's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Sir Patrick.” King Roald sighed and walked back to where he was standing, his hands behind is back. “Many people are glad that the clan has been dispersed, so I was planning to have a celebration, and honor, the people who was able to disperse the clan.”

“What kind of celebration…?” Patrick started asking

“A dance,” the king declared.

“A dance,” Patrick repeated.

“You don't have to attend if it hurts you too much, Patrick.”

“I'll have to think about that,” Patrick said.

“Good. Now, you'll have to excuse me, I need to get back working,” the king said, then walked out of the room.

We walked out of the castle and Patrick and I held hands.

Patrick seemed to be looking at my head. “Where's your tiara that I gave you?”

I gasped and ran my hand through my hair. “On dear! It must have fallen off in the wilderness…”

“You're going to need it,” Patrick said.

I smiled inside and asked, “Why?”

“Because we're going to that dance,” he declared.

YES!



Sorry I got this up very late tonight, but my mom spent ages onto the computer `cause she's flying to Texas then driving to Louisiana and she just ordered the plane tickets. That can take awhile, I guess.



Chad, I have an idea for your character, but I need your guys YAY or NAY on a sequel



THANKS! -Hugs for all!-

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