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devil-doll13 · 1 year

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Sword and Sorcery

(Finale)

Tw: none I can think of, just sappy romance.

(Abigail belongs to me, Clay belongs to @rottent33th <3)

First Part

Second Part

Third Part

Thankyou for everyone who has been reading this! Here is the final part, I hope it’s a satisfying conclusion.

Dividers by firefly-graphics

“Ser Clayton Spencer, We thank you for your service to your country and to the crown. For years you have protected this kingdom from not only tyrant beasts but all manner of ignoble bandit, crook and thief…”

A week later Clay kneeled before the throne in duty-bound servitude, his hands folded over the gold encrusted hilt of his ceremonial sword.

The elder King was aged far beyond the years expected for his reign, (for the only heir to the throne was his grandson, a wayward prince…) and he addressed Clay with a dry monotone. He drawled out further routine commendations before dismissing the room with a tired wave.

Clay spent no more time than was necessary in the King’s stuffy courtroom, the decorum that was demanded there was a tiring charade. Besides, he didn’t much feel like socialising among the nobles. He was still a lowly country bumpkin in their eyes, no matter what he accomplished. Their approval mattered little to the Knight, of course; it was his own desire to protect the people that kept him fighting still.

After finding a quieter place outside, he breathed in the fresh air of the castle courtyard with a stretch. It was Spring, and so nature was lively and verdant. The buzz of a passing bumblebee caught his attention, and he looked to see several hovering closeby.

He took some time to admire the scenery. Winding ivy climbed up the stone walls like a thick green waterfall, hiding behind a briary curtain of blood red roses. They were not meticulously arranged by the castle servants like most of the gardens here were, but instead they grew wild and untamed. Their sharp, prickly thorns still glistened dangerously in the light, rain from the morning sunshower leaving drooping dewdrops behind.

Watching idly as the bees went nuts over this absolute treasure trove of pollen, Clay felt his mind wandering to a familiar place.

Truthfully, over the past week he’d often thought about the little witch who lived in Webwood. He had not told anyone of her existence, or of her aid in his quest. He was far less quick to pass judgements on others, compared to many of the misguided zealots in the city who thought anyone outside the norm was evil. Clay had thought it best she remained unknown to everyone in the capital, for her own safety. Still, he felt she deserved some credit for his victory. For her advice, and for her strange potion that had saved him the time he would have spent lying injured in bed otherwise.

… It wouldn’t be remiss to say he’d developed something of a crush on the Witch, as well. Clay still felt his cheeks warm remembering her pretty eyes and soft voice. He looked at the wild roses again and couldn’t help but be reminded of her, in some way.

Clay reached out to brush the petals with his unarmoured fingers. He felt nervous about the idea of going back simply to talk, so a gift would help a little, right?

Unsheathing a small knife he kept by his side, he plucked one favoured flower and cut it by the stem.

Abigail scrawled down a hasty note with her quill, her fingers stained with ink. A heavy black grimoire rested in her lap, and her own manuscript lay spread on her desk.

This morning’s stroll had breathed some cold, misty air into her lungs, and she hurried back to her cottage for warmth and food. It had been then when she’d had a breakthrough in her research. Observing the spirits at their resting places earlier that day, she’d been reminded of a certain magical rule that their odd behaviours violated. She had spent the whole afternoon developing further theories, throwing herself into her studies with an intense fervour.

Abigail stirred in her chair, feeling hunger gnawing at her stomach again. She bit her lip, unwilling to part from her books even for a moment. Often she did this, so enraptured by the world’s arcane mysteries that she ignored her own body’s needs.

Her eyes flickered from the page to her bedroom window. Golden rays of sunlight streamed through her half-drawn curtains, reminding her of the time. A soft meow, too, demanded her attention. She looked down to see Grimm sat by her legs, tail twitching. He stared up at her expectantly, seeming peeved at having his napping spot on her lap invaded by her studies.

“…Just five more pages, okay?” She assured softly, as much to herself as to him.

Then she heard it. A knock on the door. Two knocks.

Abigail froze mid-page turn. She dog-eared her place and slowly placed the book down on the desk, listening for further disturbances. There were none.

Anxiety immediately wormed itself into her mind. Was it her Knight? Of course, who else could it be? She blushed in remembrance. After the (admittedly pleasant) disturbance of the last week, she had resolved to forget him entirely. Had he actually returned to see her again? Why?

Of course, the other possibility made itself present in her mind. But… If it was another witch hunter, they probably wouldn’t bother to knock first.

And so she dispelled that notion, and rising quickly rom her chair she called out to him:

“Coming…!” Abigail winced at her own shrill voice. Hurrying out of her bedroom and into the cramped foyer, she nervously smoothed down her hair and dress, heart doing flips in her chest.

It took a few second’s worth of mental preparation before she actually turned the knob and opened the door, trying her best to appear calm and nonchalant.

And there the Knight stood, towering over her clad in shining steel plate and chainmail (had it been cleaned recently?). His freckled cheeks aflame, the warmth of the afternoon sun only seemed to add further vibrancy to the soft orange of his hair. His hazel eyes lit up in surprise as the door flew open, more powerfully than she’d intended.

A bevy of emotions flooded her system when she saw him. Relief that he was alive and well, shock still that he ever returned. Embarrassment as her own rosy cheeks betrayed her, without the cover of her hat she felt quite defenceless.

“I…”

He opens his mouth, makes a sound, and then closes it again. His cheeks flare hot red. She momentarily feels comforted by the fact he seems to have as much difficulty speaking as she does. He has one hand held behind his back, under his cloak.

“Hello…” He greets.

“…Hello.” Abigail echoes.

With the layers of epic theatre peeled back, the fairytale was gone. They had played their roles well and now existed as simply themselves.

That was an intimidating thought. Another moment and he fiddles with his cape. He wavers, as if trying to make a decision. Then he seems to make it, slowly drawing out his hand to reveal a bright red rose.

It’s beautiful, she thinks immediately.

“I got this for you.” He says softly, studying her face. “As a gift. To thank you for, uh… Your help”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had she fallen asleep at her desk? Abigail suddenly wanted to pinch herself, but refrained.

Another awkward moment passes without a word, but she carefully takes it from his outstretched hand. She’s careful not to brush her fingers against his.

“Thank… Thankyou.” She finally stutters out. He exhales audibly.

Her eyes shift rapidly from the flower to his flushed face, almost paralysed in this situation. She must seem to be suspicious, but in reality she’s in awe. She’s never been in this sort of situation before. Years of isolation have eroded her ability to react properly to these things.

“I enjoy to brew potions as a hobby, so it was really no bother…” The words spill out. It’s the most she’s ever said. He stares at her with an expression she can’t place. Abigail looks back down at the rose to hide her shy reaction.

The petals are extraordinarily red. She admires it quietly. It certainly could not have grown in Webwood; home only to poisonous herbs and toxic fungi. She held it gently by the stem, careful not to prick her fingers on the sharp thorns.

“I…” The Knight began again, rubbing his neck. A nervous habit. “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous to ask, but,” and looking her directly in the eyes now, “could I know your name?”

“Abigail,” she breathed. “My name is Abigail.” The name felt so old and neglected now, she’d so rarely heard it uttered by another.

“Abigail...” He repeated, a shy smile playing on his lips.

Abigail gulps, feeling a desire to ask him his name as well. She feels giddy, this all still feels like a dream.

“Co- Could I know yours?” She wonders if she sounds like the noble ladies of the court, or like a fool.

“It’s Clay…” He bows his head in makeshift salute.

Clay. That’s a nice name, she thinks.

They’re close now. Very close.

A surge of boldness accompanies her glee. She slips her fingers into Clay’s, and his eyes widen in surprise.

For a second she wonders if she’s gone too far, but he envelopes her smaller hand in his own with a light squeeze. It is as warm as it was on that day, and just as gentle.

Now she knows her impossible feelings are returned, reality smashes into her like a tidal wave. But it is a joyful one, not sobering.

Then all of a sudden his stomach growls, comically. She can’t hide her surprise as he freezes in embarrassment. Neither of them expected that, too caught up in themselves.

“Do you want something to eat, Clay…?” She asked him softly, thinking of her own hunger pangs now.

He scratched the back of his neck with a furrowed brow. “I don’t want to intrude…”

“Oh it isn’t, It wouldn’t be an intrusion.” She reassured him. But really, she wanted to keep on talking to him. It was a thought that both excited and frightened her all at once.

And she could make them both pie; her favourite kind.

He smiled again, just a little. “Okay.” He nodded. Abigail feels herself smile happily back, in a way she hasn’t in a long time.

She led him by the hand into her home, and the door closed shut behind them, leaving only the birds to sing sweetly outside.

The End

(Taglist: @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary)

Thanks for sticking through to the end! This ending chapter is a bit messy and weird sksodndldm Thanks to t33th for all the great ideas!