Inside the castle's study, the wind howled outside, beating against the castle windows, and the air was heavy with tension.
Lady Rona huddled in a cold chair; she hadn't closed her eyes since the news of the Ironborn invasion arrived.
Any rustle inside or outside the castle was enough to jolt her awake from sleep, her heart pounding uncontrollably.
Fear grew in the oppressive environment, and fear bred longing; she had never missed that person so much, missed the sense of security he brought, but the more the longing rose, the more the unease surged.
She constantly pondered her own worth, wondering if he would come. The Ironborn were rampaging and slaughtering everywhere, and his own territory might be facing an even greater threat. Would he risk battling the brutal Ironborn to rescue a worthless woman like her?
Or would he, like those cold-hearted people, easily discard her, a woman of no value, on the scales of self-interest?
The study door was gently pushed open, and Lady Rona looked up in fear, only relaxing when she saw who it was.
Old Nicken, the butler, walked in, his back hunched, carrying a stack of parchment: "My Lady, these are a few documents from the territory that require your signature."
Lady Rona's gaze didn't linger on the documents for even a second. She lifted her head, her bloodshot eyes fixed on the face of the old butler, whom Arthur had appointed and she had unhesitatingly confirmed to show her loyalty to him. Without a moment's hesitation, she snatched the quill and scribbled her name haphazardly at the bottom of the parchment, splattering ink.
Her voice was dry and urgent, even trembling slightly: "Old Nicken, is... is there a reply from Lord Arthur?"
Old Nicken looked at the Lady's haggard face, a wave of pity welling up in his heart. He could, of course, guess that there was some unclear relationship between this poor noble widow and his young master. In the past few days, she had neither eaten nor slept, and had grown noticeably thinner.
The old man sighed. The Ironborn hadn't even besieged the city yet, and the mistress of this castle might be consumed by her own depression first. This woman was driving herself mad.
He shook his head awkwardly, avoiding her gaze: "Not yet, My Lady."
Just as Lady Rona's eyes completely dimmed, and she was about to wave Nicken away, a sudden rush of hurried, chaotic footsteps came from outside the courtyard. A guard stumbled and scrambled into the hall, not even having time to straighten his crooked helmet.
There was no fear on his face, only a nearly frenzied ecstasy: "My Lady! Reinforcements! It's reinforcements! Lord Arthur's army has arrived!"
The name Arthur instantly invigorated and delighted Lady Rona. All fear, unease, and doubt were shattered in that moment.
She let out a joyful shriek, like a bird regaining its freedom, and rushed out, clutching her beautiful skirt. The high threshold tripped her, and she fell to her knees, not even noticing that she wasn't wearing shoes.
"My Lady! Your shoes! My Lady!" several maids cried out in alarm from behind, trying to catch up with their mistress, but could only watch as her figure disappeared around the corner of the castle's inner courtyard.
Arthur had reined in his horse and stopped before the castle's drawbridge, his cavalry and infantry arrayed neatly behind him, silent as a forest.
He had anticipated many kinds of reunion scenes—perhaps a solemn welcome, or a worried inquiry. He had never imagined that when the heavy castle drawbridge slowly lowered, it would be such a sight.
A woman in a beautiful dress, with a cascade of brown hair, her snow-white feet bare, treading the cold, damp flagstones, seemed to see only him, as if the entire world had vanished, and rushed out of the gate heedlessly.
Before Arthur could react, that soft body, carrying a fragrant scent, plunged into his embrace.
Arthur froze completely. This was impolite, and moreover, being in public like this would certainly not be good if word got out.
Brin and Rosso, behind him, turned their heads almost simultaneously. One looked up at the sky, studying the shapes of the clouds, while the other looked down, examining his sword as if there were some intricate patterns worth appreciating.
The soldiers further away did not have such good tacit agreement; some awkwardly lowered their heads, while others turned away, their shoulders uncontrollably twitching, biting their teeth hard to keep from making a sound.
Rosso Brun glanced out of the corner of his eye, his heart unperturbed. Although this incident in public was certainly not good, noble affairs and private lives could be as chaotic as they pleased; he had seen much more outrageous things than this.
This was Westeros, a land where power and desire intertwined. As long as you were a noble, you could do whatever you wanted.
Lady Rona cared for nothing else. She tightly embraced Arthur, who stood frozen, unsure what to do, as if holding the entire world.
Her face pressed tightly against his chest, her body trembling slightly from extreme excitement and lingering fear.
Her tearful, broken voice, like a child who had suffered much grievance, repeatedly whispered in his arms: "You finally came... I knew you would come... I was so scared... I was really so scared... I was afraid you wouldn't care about me anymore..."
Arthur was flustered by this sudden embrace. He had just calmly commanded a bloody skirmish, able to order his subordinates to cut off enemy heads without batting an eye, but now he didn't know how to comfort a woman crying in his arms.
He could only raise his hand, hesitated, and finally gently placed it on her head, stroking her soft, long hair.
"I won't abandon you." His voice was much softer than usual, trying to make it sound gentler. "I once swore an oath to you."
His gaze fell on her bare feet, those delicate feet that should have been pampered, now covered in dirt, grass, and even wounds.
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