Chapter 247 - 245: Fall In Love Again And Again.

Chapter 247: Chapter 245: Fall In Love Again And Again.

He’s not complaining, though.

​It’s what he wanted.

And it’s been worth every bruise and every aching joint to feel a part of that world again.

​Inevitably, such thoughts lead him back to that courtyard.

​Tonight it’s the same as it always is.

Dark, but for the light of the moon, and empty but for a single figure and a target, and the hum of an arrow in flight.

Even though the winds don’t wail through this part of the castle the night air is frigid and smells like snow, and Vogrid’s fingers must be half frozen by now, for his quiver to be as empty as it is.

​And as he’s found himself doing in times of late, Binny settles into the shadows of the balcony to watch.

Because while he was adequate with a bow in his time –more naturally gifted with knives than any other weapon or tool –Vogrid made it an artform, and in this setting it was something mesmerising and soothing to watch.

​The sounds below suddenly stop.

​Oh, Binny realises with disappointment, he’s run out of arrows .

​Usually this would be when Vogrid would set his bow aside and retrieve his arrows from the target to restock his quiver, but tonight he doesn’t move.

​And in the silence of the night he speaks, for the first time.

​It sounds like a name.

​His name.

​It’s impossible, because there’s no reason Vogrid would say his name now. And not like that.

​Not after all this time.

​He stiffens anyways.

Because even though there’s no rule saying he’s not allowed to be here, he shouldn’t be. Not really.

At least, not like this. Not watching, the way he is. The way he used to.

​"I know you’re there," Vogrid’s voice calls out into the night; diction crisp and cool, and Binny knows instinctively from his tone –from all the countless days they’d spent together in their youth –that he won’t ask again.

​There’s nothing for it.

​With a soft sigh, Binny looks both ways down the corridor, then smoothly clambers through the shadows up and over the balustrades.

It’s too easy to swing down to the courtyard below; landing with both feet barely whispering against the stone.

It’s a dangerous, and most un-servantlike thing to do; there are no other lords of this castle he would dare do something like that in front of, but he’s never been very good at playing servantlike, and something about this place has always made him bold.

​In this moment especially so, with the echo of Vogrid’s voice ringing in his ears.

​Binny .

​(It’s been too long.)

​"...You called, m’lord?" he states, straightening up without sound.

Vogrid doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t glance back at him; he merely gestures at the empty quiver at his side.

​Wordlessly, Binny moves past him towards the target.

​He always hated this part.

The arrows always sank so deep and they took far too much work to get out.

It would have been so much easier to just break the arrowheads off and have new ones fletched but Vogrid insisted on preserving them where he could.

He could be funny like that. And so a young Binny had huffed and puffed and cursed as he laboriously worked each arrow free, and sworn each time he would never be doing it again, but whenever Vogrid had called, he’d found himself right back there again for some reason.

​He doesn’t grumble tonight. His hands are bigger and he’s stronger now than he was back then, and he still remembers the best way to work them free without snapping them in two.

It still takes some time; the target is stuck full –the arrows perfectly spaced in a clean circle with a single one piercing the centre –but Vogrid waits.

​Still, he says nothing.

​So neither does Binny.

​The arrows make for quite an armful but he manages, and when he reaches Vogrid’s side once again he leans down to carefully slot the arrows back into the quiver, making sure that none bend or crack.

​And when he straightens, it’s to a hand extended out to him. In it rests a knife.

​Binny can only stare.

He knows this knife intimately; it’s weight and its shape seared into him from carrying it diligently and secretly for so many years.

He’d thought when Vogrid had taken it back from him that night they’d hunted Khobi together like they’d once hunted another wayward prince it would never find its way back to him.

​Servants weren’t supposed to have knives, after all.

​So why is he offering it back to him, now? Because that’s what it seems like he’s doing.

​He tears his gaze away from the knife to find Vogrid staring down at him; green eyes stern and his lips pressed into a thin line.

But the moment they lock eyes, Vogrid looks away.

​Binny wishes he wouldn’t.

​"I don’t understand."

He knows how stubborn he can be, so he breaks the silence.

He shouldn’t because he’s a servant, and servants are meant only to listen and obey, but Vogrid called to him first.

​"...You still had this." It’s not a question.

​"...I promised to take good care of it," Binny shrugs, because maybe he’d forgotten.

He’d said it as a joke back then, after all, humouring the strange request to hold onto it for a time.

"Until you asked for it back."

​"I don’t recall asking for it back," Vogrid states, and Binny frowns at his words, wondering if this is some kind of test. He looks up at him, expression as reproachful as he dares.

​"Servants aren’t supposed to have knives, m’lord." He hopes it doesn’t come out too cheeky.

Vogrid peers down his nose at him.

He’s a bit rusty, and it might be a trick of the moonlight, but Binny thinks he looks almost amused .

​Too cheeky, then.

​"They’re not supposed to train with soldiers, either."

​Well, he’s got a point there.

​Hesitantly, he takes the knife. It feels good to have it again; like a piece of himself has slid right back into place.

And yet, he can’t help but wonder:

​Why, Vector ?

​It’s your knife, isn’t it ?