Sick with Dread [Durion]

[Miriel]

Miriel stood, staring out the window of her home on the sixth tier of the great White City of Gondor. It was late in the afternoon, and her face was horrible pallid and blank. She clutched at her stomach with her hand, and held onto a feeling of dread that she had been able to tell nobody of the past few days.

Dread was not the only sickness she felt. For the past mornings Miriel had been entirely weary and nauseated. It was not a wonder now that she knew the truth, for that was common. She had to be careful, or her family would noticed. Well, they already had, but they had not yet guessed it. Then, the time had come for her monthly show of blood. Then the time had passed with nothing. Miriel knew what had happened, and she became sick with dread. She felt the same warm throb in her abdomen, as her hand came to her stomach and she fell back on her bed.

But what could Durion do for her? She had always enjoyed her time with him, and as the weeks went on, she had gone to see him frequently. She adored the closeness and comfort he left her with, and the tender treatment he gave her. His words were always smooth, and his hands were gentle. It was true that Durion had a power over her. Miriel cherished those moments in which she had the man to herself, and when she was with him, she felt something which she believed was love. Or at least she thought it was love. Truly it was a sick and twisted form of satiation to her loneliness, and manipulation on the part of the handsome soldier.

Miriel hated the little life growing within her. She did not want a child; she did not want a responsibility to tie her down, to make her ugly and bloated. Durion would hate her; he prized her simply for her beauty, but if that was taken away, what would she have to keep him hers? He would move on to another, she was certain. But if only he thought more of her. Had he not enjoyed her spirited humor? Perhaps she would have something to cling to, that would keep him hers.

And even worse that losing Durion; they would call her a harlot. She was an unmarried woman. The gossip would spread, and it would not be just mere rumors, but the truth. Miriel’s womb was just a stamp for all to see. It would be a mark placed onto her. The child would be a constant reminder to Miriel and all who knew her of her loose and foolish behavior. And of her hypocrisy. The one who first brought false rumors of the little serving girl to the palace would be the one to live out the actual action of whorishness.

Should she tell Durion? She must. She had to tell him… for what would she do otherwise? It was still early; she would not begin to show at all for several weeks, and even then, she could hide it for months longer, she presumed, with the proper dress. Though, with her nightly visits to Durion’s home, it would not be much longer before he would notice. She must tell him now, for if he found out any other way he would feel lied to and manipulated. It was his own child growing within her.

She had to tell him. It was still early enough to formulate a plan. He would help her. He always helped her, did he not? If he cared for her, he would help her. Miriel could not go on and become the sleeper of the house of Faelon.

Exhausted, Miriel pulled herself up from her bed and donned her shoes. She felt nauseous and dizzy, even as she walked down the stairway and found her way to Durion’s door. This evening though, she had not prepared herself as usual. There was no time spent carefully working her hair, and she was not wearing one of her lovelier dresses; just an older one. Her face was strained and tired. Durion would understand though, wouldn’t he? She longed for him to embrace her and comfort her, and tell her what she should do. What they should do.

[Durion]

If there was anything Durion hated more than horses and the cavalry, it was the do-gooders of the city who actually thought that Minas Tirith could be saved. Unfortunately, his day had been filled with both. It was sickening, and his stomach was quite nauseated by the time his day had ended. They had gotten a few new recruits. Their hope and determination to defend Gondor? Revolting.

As they had put away the horses, Durion had decided that tonight would call for some sort of entertainment. The blasted mare had almost thrown him three times today, and he was in a right foul mood. Though, he did not necessarily feel like he should traverse down to the third tier, second or first this day. No…he had an inkling that tonight would be one that would bring a certain young woman to his door. Truly, if she had not been so utterly beautiful—indeed Miriel was the envy of almost all other women of the sixth tier—and she had neither the heart that he possessed or been blood relation to that horrible Faeldor, then he would have grown quite tired of her by now.

She had come to his door often as of late, for company. Once, he had even been out at a tavern and had been left with merely a message of a visit by his sister Anira who had been exceedingly stern and angry with him. He could not imagine what had caused her such a horrible show, though it rather pleased him. Still, he made his way to his own home well enough. His parents were out, he could see, probably at some sort of party that utterly bored his mother. Anira, though, and her little handmaiden were in their house.

Glanien had been with the family for a little over two years now. Hired solely by his dratted sister, she waited and tended to Anira personally. It did seem, however ridiculous such a thought was, that Anira and she had become fast friends. Of course, having a new female in the house had sparked Durion’s interests. He had added her to his complex games, though only once. The woman, it seemed, was quite in consul with his Anira---and merely gave herself over for fear of losing her position in the house. Not really a pleasing victory. Nonetheless, one that had satiated him for a time.

“Good evening, Anira.” Durion called to his sister as he entered the sitting room. He purposefully let his voice ring out pleasant, for it seemed nothing bothered Anira more. Her brown eyes had flashed upwards, and she stood quickly crossing to him.

“You are sickening.” She hissed as she approached. Her hands were balled into fists and her steps were quick. This evening, it seemed, boded interesting.

“Am I, Sister? Whatever would make you say such a thing?” Durion asked amusedly. His sister was younger, though quite tall. She was striking in her own right, for it did seem the family of Daeron was blessed in such graces. Nonetheless, she did not seem to revel in it like her brother did. She wore a simple but lovely dress, and her hair was loosely pulled back and seemed a bit unkempt.

“What have you done to her?! You are foul!” Anira half screamed. It was well, then, her parents were not home.

“Done to who, may I ask?” Indeed, he had done many things to many women. Duiron could not rightly tell of which he was being chastised for.

“Glanien! You lewd ogre.” Anira snapped in response.

Oh, this was quite exciting. He crossed his arms and frowned, though it was clearly jest for his light eye stayed quite dancing in anticipation and twisted happiness. “Glanien? Well, I daresay I have done nothing to her recently.” His response was rather cocky, and at such a sound Anira pounded her fist into his chest.

“It matters not how recently, Durion. You have well broken her.” Anira was seething, and her breath was quickened and eyes sharp.

Delightful. “And how, dearest Anira, have I done such a thing?” He asked smirking slightly.

“You have used her. Had your way with her. You threatened her for her position? She is under my care, and shall remain that way. Durion, you have outdone yourself. This time, you too shall reap consequences!”

This, of course had startled the man. Indeed, he never held any consequences for any of his actions with the ladies. And, being a coward, such a thing bothered him. “And why is that?”

“She is expecting,” Anira snapped angrily. Durion’s face seemed to falter for a moment at such news. “I can only hope the child will not take after its father. You foolish, foul---why must you insist on ruining the lives of women?”

Durion did not answer. Indeed, Glanien had grown quite shy and timid around the house as of late, though he had assumed it was her own embarrassment that had made it so. If ever there was a way to break Durion’s façade, if only for a moment, it was such news. It was, indeed, the first he had ever heard of such a thing. “Well, Anira,” he seemed to hum. “I do believe that you should find better help. It seems that Glanien is rather free with herself.” He would simply deny that the child was his. Glanien was quite pretty, certainly someone else could have wooed her in such a way.

Anira growled a bit dangerously, “In six months, you shall have a child. And it will live under this roof, with its mother and you, Brother. I pray it will be a reminder as to how loathsome you are. To take advantage of a servant girl?! Detestable.” With that, she turned on her heels and flew up the stairs. Durion, though, remained where he was. He felt sick himself, now. More so than when he had come home.

He could deny this. Brush it off. Nobody would believe a servant woman---they would chalk it up to a lie so as to gain way at his family’s wealth. Or, at least that was what he would begin to tell people.

A rap on the door sounded, and immediately Durion turned to look at it. Glanien, he was sure, would not be coming to fetch the door---Anira would forbid her from doing him any favors at all---so he reached for it himself.

It was Miriel, though she did not seem to radiate beauty as she normally did. Even her deviousness seemed quelled and hidden. Durion himself was no longer in any mood to be accompanied. “Miriel, my lovely.” He stated, doing his best to fake a genteel smile. “Whatever brings you here tonight?”

[Miriel]

Miriel’s heart was racing, and the beauty had not even thought of her appearance as she waited for someone to come to the door. She just needed Durion’s aid and comfort at the time. For the moment her beauty, and his desire for it, seemed of little necessity.

“Miriel, my lovely. Whatever brings you here tonight?” The door was open suddenly, and a smooth voice was speaking to her. Durion had seemed quite surprised as he answered the door; and she was surprised it was him to answer the door at all. She was not composed at all, and had no time to do so!

Oh, her heart ached, and it was a wonder that the lovely woman did not spill her worries and concerns right here on the very doorstep when she had asked. Her hand over her stomach as she spoke, as if she could comfort the thing inside her, and still the nauseating feeling, Miriel looked warily about her. Both of their reputations were on the line afterall, and if some nosy servant should be about she should not mention it out loud. Not here.

“Durion, I need to talk,” she said slowly. She had no wry grin or suggestive look for the man tonight. She was not all interested in the usual type of visit, although she would do well by his gentle touch. In fact, she longed for it, and wished to throw herself right into the man’s strong arms for comfort, and bury her face against him.

Her body trembled slightly at the thought that perhaps he would not accept it or wish to help or comfort her. If she did not keep Durion, then she had nobody, for there was nobody else who would be able to console her. Her family would shun her, and she would become a laughingstock. Faeldor would detest her for her hypocrisy. Mother would be ashamed. And all of it would not be so bad, if only Durion would stand by her side. It was his child afterall. His heir. Or at least Miriel thought so, for she had no idea of the first bit of startling news Durion had received upon his arrival home today.

“Let us go to your quarters,” she said briskly, holding back a sob in her throat and stepping into the doorway before he kept her out. Her eyes were now brimming with tears.

[Durion]

The man had hardly composed his thoughts concerning Glanien, and here, now, a woman had come to him. She did seem unwell, though she had been feeling ill for the past couple of weeks. He had not truly thought or minded such a thing, for he had traveled down the lower tiers for his enjoyment on the nights when she was unable to see him.

Still, it was unlike Miriel to look like she held so little care for herself. This made the man nervous, though he did his best to hide anything of the sort. “Durion, I need to talk.”

What about? Indeed, normally all she did was gripe and complain on her brother, her mother and sisters. Something that Durion was not quite in the mood for. “My lovely, I would like to speak with you as well, though now is not such an…ideal moment.” After he had said such things, though, he noticed how truly upset Miriel seemed to be. It appeared she even looked to make sure none were around. Perhaps one of their plans had gone awry? Well, that would most certainly require immediate care. With an inward sigh, a disgruntled but gentlemanly man stepped aside, and motioned to let her pass with a small bow. “But for you, I shall find the time.” And with that, the lady was in his home.

Now his mind was whirring quickly. Indeed, he needed to do well to hide Anira and Glanien from her this evening. Tempers were high as it were, and if his blasted sister happened to spew any further words about Glanien and her…state, then all would be lost to Durion. His partner in mischievous plans, as well as an instigator and rather lovely face.

“Let us go to your quarters.”

Normally such words pleased Durion, but in all other situations they were not followed with teary eyes. His heart seemed a bit apprehensive at such a thing. Whatever had happened now? His day, surely, could not be any worse.

“Anything you need, Miriel.” And with that the men lead them quickly up the stairs and to his own room. If she asked as to why his pace was so fast, he would simply reply it was because she was close to weeping, and he did not wish her to do so openly in his home, for he could not bear to have his own family see her sadness. Though, in truth, it was to keep Anira far away.

He opened the door and allowed her entry, and cautiously shut the door behind him. He studied her, once more, under the candlelight of the room. “Now that we are alone,” Durion began, though not in a truly seductive manner—he was not in a mood for such a thing, as rare as that was. “What is it that troubles you? What reason has the prettiest woman in Minas Tirith to be so saddened?” He stepped forward, letting a hand reach to grab her own; only for the pretense he normally offered. He would not desire Miriel’s own questions on his own mood. So, it was best to comfort her in the way, he assumed, she wanted.

[Miriel]

“What is it that troubles you? What reason has the prettiest woman in Minas Tirith to be so saddened?”

Miriel studied the man with wet eyes for just a moment. He had taken her hand, and his was warm and comforting. She could tell him; she had to. Oh, but what a disgrace she was! To be in this position in the first place. All for want of physical comfort and pleasure. The woman was so caught up in her own troubles that she took no notice of Durion’s own differing mood. If she had been here on any other circumstance, she was growing to know the man well enough that she would be able to tell, and she would have found something to please him and set him in a better mood. Not tonight though, she was not here for that. That was certain.

“Durion…” she started, but she was not at all well with words right now. She was not at all herself, and Durion would notice. She simply had to go ahead and say it. There was no reason to stall for time. She was not here to gain anything, or ask any favor but comfort and a plan for what she should do. Miriel’s breath quickened for the fact that she would have to say it. She had to be the one to tell him, for nobody else could. She had not told another, though, her sister suspected such.

“I am with child,” her cheeks were rosy as she said so out loud, and she moved closer to the man, hoping that his comforting arms would envelope her. “Your child.”

It was entirely certain; she had waited long enough to know, and she had been to see Durion on so many occasions that it was obvious. As much as she was a loose woman, and had always been after the lovely Calvary members who resided on the sixth tier, Durion was in fact the only man she had ever been with in such a way. There was no mistaking whose child was growing inside of her.

“I do not know what to do,” the beautiful woman said, covering her face with her hands, and moving to lean against the man’s chest.

[Durion]

For all of Miriel’s hesitation, no amount of pause or faltering would have made the words she spoke any less horrible and detestable to Durion. The foul man seemed plain shocked that such a thing could happen at all. And, in fact, almost remarked on how that was impossible. It had to be a mistake. Surely in one day, two women could not speak to him on such things!

“Are you certain?” He asked, as she moved forward. He took a step backward, to avoid her gripping hands and salty tears. Still, she would not have come to him if she were not certain. Durion needed to regain control; he needed to think clearly. How could he do that? Two ill-begotten children in one evening. How terribly unlucky! And this…well, this one was going to be harder to escape. But self-preservation was necessary.

“Miriel,” he did not use her pet name this time, and his voice seemed a bit sharp for its earlier gentleness. The man held a hand before him to still any more advances to him and he simply looked at her. She had remarked on not knowing what to do. Well, he didn’t either. His specialty was in sneaky and twisted plans for entertainment. Games. Nothing like this. This…disgusting and vile situation. He hated children. He always had, and it was not about to change simply because his lover—or two of many—carried his child. Women who were with child were foul, too.

They were moody, demanding, and unattractive. There was no good for this situation. What must be done? He must escape. “I cannot help you,” he stated flatly. Usually he was able to function better, but such a situation drained him completely. “This is not my problem.” He made a motion to Miriel’s stomach, and his anger spiked within him. How could this woman have allowed herself to become with child?

While he would admit that it was hard to resist him and his advances, most women were cautious and careful of when they would partake of activities with him. She had clearly paid such things no mind. He did not have to suffer for her lack of caution.

He had fallen into a rather tense silence, for the man indeed did not know what to do. Many a man would have been overjoyed at such news if it had come from their wife, or proposed marriage had it not been. Marriage was something Durion was not ready for. “Perhaps take some poor fool for a husband. You must have suitors.” He himself was not one. But she was fair of face---or at least was normally. She could probably land herself someone and convince the victim it was his child that she carried.

[Miriel]

“Are you certain?” Miriel faltered for a moment, but then began to grow angry. “Of course I am certain, I would know such a thing when it happened.” Oh, she was angry and bitter now. Durion could not get out of this so easily as to sway her off.

The woman’s anger rose as Durion insisted that the issue could not be helped. “Not your problem? I suppose you had nothing to do with it at all?” she snapped, her eyes biting down on the man. She was troubled deeply that the man somehow considered this to be her issue, when he very well played the same role that she had.

“Perhaps take some poor fool for a husband. You must have suitors.” Her green eyes flashed at the man. “It would never be taken as the truth, and you know it. You will ruin me, and the city will know that this is your child.” At least, those who needed to know would. Faeldor would hear of it. Her brother would help her, if Durion would not.

“You would abandon myself, and your child… as if we were simple commoners on the street? How many other women have you ruined?” the lady sobbed, her voice raising. And truly, it was not the simple fact that he was upset about the child. She knew he would be; for she was as well. But it was the fact that he was sending her off! True, he did not care for a child. But did he not care for her? Over the weeks Miriel had spent with Durion, she found him to be a more conniving and malicious man, but that had not stopped her from growing a deep fondness for him. She wanted to be near him, and she felt herself caring for him.

“After all of this, you do not care for me?” she questioned, still stepping toward the man. If he was uncomfortable with having her near now, well, she would make him uncomfortable. She stepped forward, swift enough to grasp his tunic, her voice returning to her usual smooth and fluid tone. “After all of our time together…” she murmured. Her hands softened for a moment, pressing against the man’s torso. She knew he would not change his mind, no matter what she did tonight, so perhaps, she would simply leave him with a fond remembrance of her own spirit. She wanted to hurt him, as he had hurt her. Then her eyes turned back to a blaze of green fury, and she kneed the man; hard, then stepped back to watch him. He would not dare lay a hand against her in return.

[Durion]

Miriel had not taken Durion’s words well. Though, who would have? Such blatant and flippant disregard of everything would have angered even the most docile of expectant mothers. But Miriel, even when not in such a state, was far from docile. It did appear that Durion had taken his life into his hands when he addressed her in such a way.

“You would abandon myself, and your child… as if we were simple commoners on the street? How many other women have you ruined?”

Just one. He thought, rather annoyed. No, Miriel was not a commoner. Still, he detested children. To the very pit of his being. “Not common.” He tried to say, though he was quite certain the spitfire had not heard a single syllable. Durion straightened his shoulders some as he was approached, and he thought to take a step back once again, but her hand gripped his tunic and held him right in place.

She was trying to make it seem as if he had sought after her. He had initiated interactions, certainly, with his charming demeanor and handsome appearance. He had blatantly extended some rather flirtatious remarks. But it was she who had come to him seeking such physical satiation and comfort.

Though, such thoughts were stopped for a moment by a searing pain that swept through him, and the man doubled over upon himself. He did well not to let his sound of pain carry too far, indeed Anira needed no reason to seek him out. For a few minutes he was quite incapacitated, though immediately he angered and righted himself. Thus far, Durion had been gentle—at least to his own standards—now, he was livid. And while he might fear a man, such as Miriel’s brother, he was not in the least afraid of her.

This of course, was a bit strange. Miriel was a force to be reckoned with. Still, despite all of his cowardice, Durion did like to believe he could handle a simple-minded female. And Miriel? She was very simple-minded. “Have you forgotten who has come to my door seeking physical attentions? You have practically thrown yourself at my feet,” his voice was raised, and full of fury, and the man had taken steps toward her. “And you expect me to simply drop everything and care for you? I do not even like children,” he finished boldly, having approached the baker in an attempt to force her to walk backward herself.

For a moment Durion mused that he should probably not be so forceful with her, for indeed her brother was bound to seek him out for such an offense as sullying his sister. Though, his temper got the best of him in this case, and the man’s tongue was not used to lying still. “You, Miriel. You are the one who came to me with troubles of a brother who was interested in a harlot. I daresay, at least if she is such a thing she receives payments for her services.”

Oh, yes. Faeldor would definitely come to him in a rage. But he was not going to be bested by a girl. He would not take responsibility for this. Durion was a man who would not simply hand over his own fun and games for one person. He had not even been able to stay true to Miriel after promising her he would. What made her think he would offer his hand and wealth to her in marriage?

"And you have well near destroyed your brother for his interest in a servant. Do you think he will pity you much now that you are what you claimed to have detested?"

[Miriel]

An amused glint crossed over the beautiful woman’s face when Durion doubled over in pain. She could tell he had restrained from shouting out, but once he had recovered, the look in his eyes was quite fierce and the woman was frightened. Would he hit her? She wondered, and as he came near her, his handsome figure towering over her in fury she did step backward some paces.

He made accusations again, and called Miriel a harlot. And as he spoke, she could not help but feel herself shrivel inside, for she had in truth displayed the same actions as one of the street women. Though, she had not asked for pay. She went to Durion for no more than the simple pleasure of being with him. To feel close to someone. She was embittered, thinking of it.

Faeldor would hate her. He would never defend her now, after costing his Gilwen her reputation and her father’s job. He would say it was the fates working against her. He would send her out of his home, and she would have no place to go, for nobody cared for Miriel. Nobody would help her, and she would be alone. As always. She was always alone.

“You are a coward. Indisputable coward.” Miriel said, glaring at the man. She could have called him a horrible person, or a man of deceit, but coward fit him better. It is what he truly was, and it was why he was so malicious. Miriel turned to leave. She would not put up with this man any longer. All of them left her; all of them. First she had been taken from her home in Belfalas to come to this horrible walled city, and then Father was gone, and then Faeldor. He was right. Faeldor would hate her now. Miriel thought the cycle would never relent.

Now Durion was sending her away. He had no care for her. She thought she had felt something, but it must have simply been his lust and simple greed, and now she had been ruined. He had called her beautiful, and told her that her family’s reputation was important. But here now, he would do nothing to help her. She should have left him to the harlots on the street. Oh, if only he would come down with some horrible disease… then he would be sorry for his ways.

She could never trust a man. Never again. She stormed out of the room and into the hall, but turned around once more before she had left, raising her voice. “May you be cursed by the Valar for your incorrigible cowardice. I will raise him on my own. But your child will know who his father is, and he will be ashamed of you.”

[Durion]

“You are a coward. Indisputable coward.”

That had angered Durion more than anything else that evening. It was the truth, though that was what caused him such rage. “Well, cowardice is easier fixed that whorishness.” He spat back, eyes blazing and jaw taut. The nerve of the woman! He had the mind to throw her out completely. And leave notice that any from the house of Faelon were not allowed entry. He followed her to the hallway, and instantly he froze.

“May you be cursed by the Valar for your incorrigible cowardice. I will raise him on my own. But your child will know who his father is, and he will be ashamed of you.”

Durion’s face flushed with anger, and he balled his fists tightly. The only thing, truly, that kept him from striking Miriel at that point was Anira and Glanien’s appearance at the end of the hall. Anira was red in her cheeks, and her eyes held a fire that outdid Miriel’s. “You rotten devil!” She held in her hands a glinting object that Durion eyed.

He did not have long to do so, though, for it was promptly thrown down the hallway, whizzing right by him. It had been dangerously close to his pretty face, and Durion’s heart rate was finally raising. It clattered to the floor; a rather sharp and polished letter opener. “Stay out of this, Anira.” He snapped.

The brunette took a deep breath and began to storm down the hallway, Glanien hanging back sheepishly. “Stay out of this? Whyfor, Brother? For you are handling it so nicely?” Her voice was shrill, and it seemed that all of the hatred and anger she had held within her for years finally spilled out.

“In one month have you managed to beget children by two different mothers?!” Anira flashed eyes to Miriel, and immediately recognized her. She had not particularly cared for the woman by means of personality; she was every bit as wretched as her brother. Still. Nobody deserved such a fate---her brother’s child? Horrendous!

“Anira,” Durion said sharply.

“Do not try and scold me, Durion. I am, I am afraid, wiser than you!” She pointed down the hallway to the pretty servant standing there. “Glanien did not ask for your comfort. You threatened her with her job. And Lady Miriel,” she motioned to Miriel. “She still does not deserve to be left to deal with this on her own, no matter what role she has played.”

Glanien dropped her eyes to the floor, for she could feel Miriel’s hatred and anger for her already. Durion seemed to not have words to answer with. Thus, the sister was allowed to continue.

Anira’s friendly and lovely face twisted into an expression of pure rage. “You best hope Mother and Father do not rid you of your room here. I would beg you to take one of them in marriage, but I would not wish such torture upon either!” Finally, her yelling had ceased, though her breath was deep and her anger still very apparent.

Durion simply shoved his sister aside. “Lady Miriel, I do believe you are quite finished here.”

[Miriel]

“Well, cowardice is easier fixed than whorishness.” Miriel’s throat tightened in shame, but her face lost none of its fury. She knew her mistake, but there was nothing to fix of it now. And knowing Durion as well as she did; well, she was certain that he would not become any less cowardly throughout his life.

“I would have stood by you.” It was quite the statement for lovely young Miriel to make. To display any form of trust to a person was not something that the lady did readily. They had done well together though, and she had begun to cling to the trust that she was forming for the man.

Now, though, it was lost. And he would not gain it back, whether he wanted to or not.

Just then Anira came in, shouting at her brother. Good! She had never enjoyed the company of Durion’s quiet sister; and she knew that Anira did not like her. Yet still, if Durion should have nobody on his side; even his own family. Then she should be happy. He did not deserve to have people in his life. He was a dreadful man. She threw something at the man and it came close to striking his face, though just missed him. She wished it would have hit him. If she had not become so afraid, she would have kicked him again.

Then Anira shouted again; “In one month have you managed to beget children by two different mothers?!”

Miriel’s mouth dropped open in horror. So she was not the only one in this situation! That servant girl? She felt her stomach flip within her, and a wave of nausea spread throughout her body at the thought of Durion with his household servant. And he had thought it horrendous that Faeldor was seeing a servant. She had a pain in her chest. Had he been with the servant since he had made his promise to Miriel? She thought she had been pleasing enough for him that he needed not seek others. She had never suspected the servant… he was always yelling at her.

The lovely young woman cast hateful eyes on Durion, and spiteful eyes on the Glanien, though for a brief instant she felt that Glanien must have the same grief.

“Lady Miriel, I do believe you are quite finished here.” And he was sending her out. He had promised not to send her out. The woman’s heart was ripping, for there was a stray thought in her mind that he would take back some his words and help her. She had cared for him.

Miriel had nothing else to say. She moved past Durion, knowing his eyes were on her. Anira was likely watching her as well; she did not look at Durion’s sister, feeling shameful that she too knew of her condition.

Then the young woman came to pass Glanien on her way to descend the stairs. The servants eyes were on the ground. Miriel stopped. She was upset that the servant had been with Durion. She was also upset because the servant was quite pretty. Though, was it her fault that she was also bearing a child of this evil man? Anira had said it was by force. A small bit of Miriel’s heart stirred within her in pity for the serving girl. Miriel was ruined; and people could call her a harlot. Though, it was by her own doing.

Glanien though, seemed quite young, and now she was ruined. Nobody would take her for husband; not even one of the poor commoners. It was Durion’s fault as well. It had not been her choice. The lovely daughter of Faelon felt something well up within her, though she did not recognize it as compassion. She was compelled though, and as she stopped she did not think twice before gently taking Glanien’s hand. Perhaps it was the most tender thing that Miriel had done in the past months. “I am sorry that you must live under his own roof.”

With that, Miriel gracefully released her, making her way down the staircase without another look behind, and stepping out the door. Now she was alone.

[Durion]

“I would have stood by you.”

That had actually hit Durion rather hard, though the man would never admit to it or recognize it himself. He had none in the way of friends, nor did he let on to care. Still, sometimes knowing that you’re alone was the most horrible thing on earth. Miriel would have stood by him? Not long, surely. She was just as fickle as he was! Though she had been loyal.

Durion thrust the thought from his mind forcibly and let himself seethe in anger and frustration. This was entirely out of hand and ridiculous. He was Durion, son of Daeron. Nothing could upset him. He had everything he wanted. Money, fine things, any women he could dare desire. Why did he, for a mere portion of a second, feel that was not good enough?

Anira gave Miriel a pitying look as she had begun to move off. She could see the hurt in the lovely green eyes, and thought that for a moment her brother had, too. Still though, she was asked to leave. Anira did desire such a thing herself, though would have done so delicately and gently. Miriel had caused quite a stir, and she had desired Glanien to have peace for her health.

Glanien simply wished to fade away into the background. She felt horrible, and as if she were on display. Whatever a foul feeling! Indeed, she, too, understood that it was unlikely any would come to her in the way of marriage. She would have to raise the child alone. Not at all what she had imagined in her life. Lady Anira was being very supportive and helpful, and for that Glanien was glad. She just hoped that Miriel had the same support elsewhere. Durion was certainly not going to offer it.

When Miriel took her hand and apologized the woman was taken aback and looked to her in agreement. She would desire the woman to leave too, for at least she would be able to escape him. That dirty feeling welled up within her again and as Miriel walked away, she clutched her skirts in frustration.

Anira glared once more at her brother and then moved down the hall, taking Glanien lovingly by the arm. “Come, you should rest.” A loving smile was offered to her, and the two vanished into Anira’s chamber once more. Likely to sit the servant affront the fire and speak. Glanien’s chores were going to become light for Durion’s sister’s compassion. It was likely that they would hire a new hand to help out around the house now.

Anira would make it a point to make sure it was a male.

Inwardly, Durion hoped for the same.