Chapter 94: The Burden
Artos remembered that conversation long after the pain in his body had begun to dull.
He had lain in bed then, wrapped in bandages and soreness, the wounds from the siege still fresh enough to sting when he moved.
By the time he told her, the burden had finally begun to lift.
But truths, like cuts, often came with their own price.
A few days earlier, Seraphine had come to him at last, recovered enough in body to sit by his bedside and make a show of being brave even while her eyes betrayed her worry.
Artos looked up at her with a softness few ever got to see.
"Are you well now?" he asked. "You should rest longer if you need."
Seraphine came to sit beside him and took his hand in both of hers, massaging it gently as if the small kindness might heal more than his fingers.
"I am well enough," she said. "It is my turn to help you now."
Her eyes fell to the bandages across his chest and ribs, to the raw weariness in his face.
"You should be looking after yourself. See what happened because of me. See what mess my family is in, and you are hurt too. You could have—"
Artos shook his head before she could finish.
"Hush," he said softly. "It was not your fault. It was theirs. And it is done now. The Sythans are gone."
He gave her hand a small squeeze.
"Your family will rise from this. As for me, I am strong as a wolf. This is nothing new. I have been a sellsword here for years. I have bled in worse places than this."
Seraphine did not look comforted.
"But you are hurt," she said. "It was terrible out there. Literally hell. You could have died."
Artos drew her close before the fear in her voice could become anything larger. He held her against him, careful of his injuries, and for a moment neither of them said anything.
"It is all right," he murmured. "I am here, aren't I?"
His voice lowered a little.
"I am sorry you had to see me like that. First in the North, and now here. Something ugly that you shouldn't have seen."
Seraphine said nothing at first. She only held him tighter, and he felt her steady herself against him.
When they finally pulled apart, she looked at him with a seriousness that made him uneasy.
"Arty," she said, "do you think we should marry?"
The words struck him harder than any blow from the siege.
Not because he had not expected them one day.
Because he had.
He had simply not expected them now.
"I mean to say," Seraphine went on, seeing his hesitation, "I do not wish to press you. But my father has been asking, and we should make your identity known as well."
Artos shifted slightly beneath the blankets, suddenly far less comfortable than he had been under arrows and spears.
Marriage with Seraphine was not a thing he feared.
But it was a weight.
A duty.
A promise that lasted longer than any battle and could not be escaped.
And there was another matter too, one he had not yet told her.
His son.
Bjorn.
The thought sat in him like a stone.
Seraphine noticed the change in his face at once. Her own expression softened, though there was disappointment in it too.
"You do not need to answer now," she said quietly.
"No," Artos said at once. "It is not that."
He drew a breath.
"There is something I should tell you first. Something important."
That made her sit straighter, all the teasing gone now.
Artos looked at her and, for once, did not seem like a man who knew how to fight his way through anything.
"I have a son," he said. "Back in the North. He is four years old."
Seraphine stared at him.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush a room.
Artos hurried on, because once the truth had begun it could not be stopped now.
"I did not know at first. Not for a long while. I only found out when I went to Last Hearth."
Seraphine's face had gone still.
Then she rose.
Artos had enough time to understand what was coming before the slap came. But he didn't dodge and let it come and he embraced it.
Tak.
It landed hard across his face, sharp enough to make his head turn.
He did not dodge it.
He simply took it.
But what happened next surprised him more than the blow.
Seraphine crossed the distance between them and kissed him.
It was not a hesitant thing. It was fierce, and sudden, and enough to make the world go oddly quiet in Artos's head. For one stunned moment he did not move at all.
When she drew back, her eyes were bright and angry and far too alive.
"A son?" she said. "What else are you hiding from me?"
Artos was still reeling when he answered. "I did not even know of him. I have never met him."
Seraphine held his gaze for a long moment, then shook her head.
"You are a careless bastard," she said. "And heartless too. Don't even care about the people that loves you ."
Artos blinked once, still trying to understand how he had gone from being struck to kissed to insulted in the space of a heartbeat.
"That seems harsh." Artos said stammering and confused.
Seraphine gave him a look that might have belonged to a queen judging a fool. "You think so? You are lucky it is only one child, and lucky again that he is only one you know of. With a reputation like yours, i expected it worse or any one that knows you for the matter of fact expected worse."
Artos frowned. "It is not that bad."
Seraphine let out a short laugh, almost mocking. "Not that bad? Arty, you were famous in Essos for two things. Your victories in battle and your life in bed. Second one being even more popular."
Artos stared at her.
She went on before he could recover. "It was gossip in high society for years. Men talked about how you bedded every woman you looked at, and not just whores either. Noble Ladies. Married ladies. Unmarried ladies. Maiden Noble girls too, if the stories were to be believed."
Artos looked properly shocked now.
Seraphine's mouth curved with the satisfaction of a woman seeing a man realize how badly he had been judged by the world.
"So do not tell me about your reputation," she said. "Half your fame in Essos came from your battles. The other half came from people whispering about your bed."
Artos let out a breath and shook his head. "That is quite a revelation to a man still recovering."
"You should have thought of that before becoming yourself."
Despite himself, Artos laughed.
Then Seraphine's expression shifted again, growing more serious.
"Fine," she said. "Leave all that aside. But you will promise me some things."
Artos gave her a wary look. "That depends on what sort of things, my lady."
Her eyes narrowed in a way that made him think immediately of traps and poisoned cups.
"First," she said, "if you do not wish to choke on poisoned tea, you will not be doing such things again."
Artos raised both hands a little, as if surrendering to a battle he already knew he could not win.
"Of course not," he said quickly. "How could I think of such things when I have a beautiful lover watching over me?"
That won her a small smile, though only for a moment.
Then she grew serious once more.
"Second," she said, "I do not want you taking dangerous work anymore. No more being a sellsword captain. No more living like your life is something you can spend and replace. You have land. You have trade. You are a noble in the Westoros for god's sake . So stop this, Arty. For my sake."
The words came out steadier than he expected at first, and then not so steady at all.
Seraphine's voice broke.
"I cannot keep watching you put yourself in danger again and again," she said, tears gathering in her eyes. "I cannot—please. Stop fighting for me."
Artos looked at her for a long moment, and his face changed.
It was not anger.
It was the look of a man hearing a thing he wanted to give, and could not.
"Sera," he said quietly, "you know I cannot promise that."
Her jaw tightened.
"I know you can," she said.
"No," Artos answered, more gently now. "I cannot."
She stared at him, hurt and stubbornness fighting in her face.
So Artos said the truest thing he knew.
"Sera, I am a man," he said. "A man. Fighting is what we do and is our duty. It is what we are trained for, what we are made for. To fight until we die. I cannot promise I will stop that part of me."
Her face fell a little, but he kept going.
"I can promise this much: I will leave the sellsword life behind after the last task I have taken but Stop fighting isn't a option for a man. It's duty that I would have to do doesn't matter if I like it or not. It is life for a man like me . So I would stop being a Sellsword anyway I think it is time for me to return to the North."
That softened her.
Not fully.
But enough.
Seraphine lowered her eyes and nodded slowly, understanding what he could not yet say but what he meant all the same.
After a moment, Artos spoke again.
"When this task is done," he said, "we will marry. Then we will go north and settle there."
Seraphine looked at him for a long time, then gave a small nod.
She did not try to argue.
She knew him too well for that now.
She had seen enough of the North beside him to know that one day he would return to it, no matter how far he wandered, and no matter who asked him to stay.
And for the first time, she seemed to understand not just the man she loved, but the road he would always belong to.
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