Each time Irene felt that she was stable, something would remind her that her emotions were volatile and just under the surface at all times while she was going through this phase of life. If she was able to be introspective at the moment, she knew that she should give herself a bit more grace after her father said he wanted to see her wed before he died and she was facing responsibilities all of a sudden.

However, Henry was taking it upon himself to be the voice of reason—albeit gently. He simply wanted to guide Irene to a place where she didn’t feel guilty for having normal, human emotions. It was a blessing and a curse that he had lost his father so he knew how to face these sorts of things in hindsight.

"I promise that no one would see you as weak or not honoring your culture by being hesitant to see those you love pass on," Henry attempted to assure her. "The connections we make in life are the most important things to us. It’s only human to be terrified of what we can’t understand. Even as brave knights, when we travel a path less trodden, we naturally feel fear of the unknown."

He cradled her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead as she stared up at him in disbelief, but he could see that she was slowly beginning to crumble. With each warm word he offered her, she was relenting to the fact that she wasn’t on the wrong path for being torn apart with grief for her grandmother and the thought of grieving her father.

"If you ever want to pick up the bow again, I would love to see it," he continued. "When I was amazed at the Chemoian archer apprentices on the ancient wall segment during the war, I should have known you were among them. Even before I knew your name, I was impressed with you."

His hands were still on her face, and Irene gently grabbed his wrists as she settled into the feeling of his unyielding care. Perhaps this was what it would be like to be married to Henry. She would never be allowed to face her emotions alone. For so long, she had been silently agonizing over things and found it hard to seek others whenever she was confused about them. Henry was as good a listener as he was at giving advice. They had such different life experiences, yet each word he said felt so relevant.

Before the two of them could return to her family’s home with the books of Sünstoian marriages in tow, Henry asked if there was a mage he could use to send letters with. Fortunately, there was still an old mage at the edge of town who had helped the village many times over.

The passage of time felt significant as Irene realized just how old the mage had gotten—reminding her of Stanley back at the Duke’s Tower.

She tried not to let that give her pause as she continued forth with Henry.

***

Only a couple of days after, Siverly arrived with a kit full of medicinal tinctures and herbs to aid Arthur in his current situation.

However, the mage’s ultimate reason for being there was to check on the health of the great knight. Considering his importance to someone so dear to the knighthood he lived with, Siverly felt an unbelievable burden as he went into the Litharion’s home and was met with gazes full of expectation. There were even glints of hope within a couple, especially Irene and Arne, who both wished for this nightmare to be only that.

Siverly’s first order was to see if he could determine Arthur’s health or if there truly was an end date recognizable for the man.

As the mage scaled the stairs, he tried to ignore the fact that he heard sets of feet creaking up the stairs and following him into the room. He was directed towards where Arthur lay in his bed, waiting for his fate to be known. It only added more to his burdens, but he couldn’t blame a family for worrying.

"Siverly," the old knight rasped out as the mage stepped into the room.

"No need to greet me, my lord," Siverly assured the man. "You ought to know now why I’m here."

"You’re here... against your will," Arthur observed, trying to joke. "You’re here... against... my will as well."

Siverly tried to offer a smile, but he knew it was forced. It was painful to listen to the man wheezing every few words. He had little lung capacity by this point. The mage recognized this as something he had seen in others before.

As the mage placed his things on a chair nearby and stepped towards the bed, he could feel eyes on his back. Before he could do anything further, his head turned, and his grey eyes glared at the unrequested audience.

"Go!" Arthur snapped, sounding surprisingly intimidating despite the way it caused him to wheeze and cough afterwards.

The knight was giving him a list of symptoms without meaning to. It was causing dread to rise higher and higher in his stomach in the meantime.

While the mage did what he could to figure out a more solidified picture of Arthur’s health, the rest of the Litharions and Henry waited in the sitting room at the bottom of the stairs, closest to the lord’s bedroom.

Irene noticed herself rocking as she anxiously waited. She wanted this entire thing to be an overreaction, but the way Siverly was acting so uncharacteristically tame in front of her father, she knew that he was seeing something more after his decades of working with the sick and injured to make a living—practically the only way mages could be paid in a world where they were so prejudiced against.

Realizing just how unstable she must have looked, Irene’s eyes lifted when Henry reached towards her knees and grasped her hands that were clenched in fists. He willed her to grab onto him instead of herself.

The moment they heard the door of Arthur and Rochelle’s room open and close, they all stiffened up.

"I’ll go see what he says first," Henry decided. "I don’t want him to have to face this alone."

Since Henry was met with nods, he was able to rush up the stairs and meet Siverly at the top of the stairs.

Irene wasn’t sure if she even breathed once the entire duration Henry was getting the word from Siverly about the status of her father’s health. She knew already she needed to take Siverly’s word for it because he had more experience with people than anyone else in the duchy. He was related to the highest-ranked of the mages in Nickron, she had figured out, after all.

It felt like a dam in Irene’s chest broke the moment Henry made it down the stairs, wearing a forlorn expression on his face.

Rochelle gasped, which caused Arne to grab her hands. Irene rushed forward and grasped at him desperately, begging him not to say what he had to.

"I’m sorry," Henry explained, his voice wavering. "Siverly has done all he can. His main focus is making sure Lord Arthur remains comfortable in the month he has left with us."