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20 November 2005 @ 03:15 pm

“Then I must tend to my duties, my lord.”

“Of course,” Balian’s voice was barely audible as he watched Viggo attempt to stand. The older man faltered. Balian stood and took Viggo’s arm, helping him to his feet. “You may be injured far worse than we had thought, Viggo. Perhaps I should deliver you to one of the doctors.”

Viggo shook his head and chuckled sardonically. “The royal physicians will not tend to me, my lord.” He took a step back, away from Balian and bowed deeply at the waist, clearly wincing in pain. “Thank you again for your kindness.”

Balian could hear the strain in Viggo’s voice as the older man struggled to maintain the bow. He knew that the older man would remain until dismissed. He reluctantly returned Viggo’s bow and frowned as the older man straightened and turned toward the door of the chamber. He did not wish Viggo to leave his company, he wanted to continue talking to the older man, wanted to hear Viggo’s story. There was that instant when the walls came down and they were simply two men, two equals, sharing a moment of tenderness and warmth, and Balian wanted that back. He didn’t want Viggo to see him as a lord, as a superior. For Balian was certainly not Viggo’s superior. He was not a great man in France and he knew his duty was to serve the greater good. He endured hardships in the process of serving that good, serving his God. But he doubted he had the strength of character to bear everything that Viggo had in his lifetime with his sense of duty intact. “Viggo…”

The servant stopped in his tracks but did not turn around. “Yes, my lord.”

“What hold you to your station? Why do you allow Guy to do this to you?” Balian crossed to the servant and stood in front of him, forcing Viggo to meet his eyes. “You are not shackled. Why don’t you flee? Leave the palace? You could start a new life for yourself.”

“In the desert, my lord? I would surely die of thirst or of hunger if the heat did not take me. Or by the sword of a raider, a Saracen. Here I have meals to eat and clothes to wear, such as they are. I may be nothing within these walls, but I would be even less outside of them.”

“But what if you were offered another life? What if…”

“My lord,” Viggo interrupted, “with all due respect…would you shirk your duties as a knight of Jerusalem just because you found them to be…difficult? God gives us all a place in this world. Who are we to question it? This is the cup he handed to me. And I have accepted it just as you have accepted yours. Drinking from mine will not bring me glory or riches. But what kind of man would I be if I turned away from the life that God has ordained for me?”

Balian took a step closer and reached for Viggo’s hand. “But you could be free.” He searched Viggo’s eyes and he saw it again. Beneath the sparkling blue there was darkness and doubt and pain enough for two lifetimes.

The older man’s hand was limp in Balian’s grasp. “No man is ever truly free, my lord. Even the King must answer to God and be held accountable for his actions. I trust that in the kingdom of heaven guy will be held accountable for his as well. I must tend to my duties, my lord,” he repeated and tipped his head, tearing his eyes away from Balian’s.

Balian released Viggo’s hand and this time when the servant walked away, Balian did not stop him.
Current Mood: frustratedfrustrated
every hour wounds. the last one kills.: edges are blurred by mejenlynn820 on November 20th, 2005 04:06 pm (UTC)
Aww, poor Viggo :( And Balian is tyring so hard too... *sigh*

I think its good sweetie.