Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Rowan
This wasn’t at all what Rowan expected when the Usurper ordered him to leave his position with the City Watch.
He was told he would be the sworn protector to the King’s new bride. That he didn’t have a problem with—he would prefer protecting some prissy little Omega to terrorizing the streets of Lupercal. But what he expected when the King stepped out of his carriage after the journey was some country girl far too young for him. That was what the rumors were saying, anyway.
So when he saw the King ascending the steps with someone very familiar, Rowan was shocked into silence.
He knew those eyes, blue as burning stars. He knew the constellations of freckles that spattered across bronze skin—far beyond the proud nose and rounded cheeks. He knew that hair, thick waves of dark brown that felt like the purest silk.
He was very glad he’d chosen to keep his helmet’s visor on as he watched the King ascend the castle steps with Aster Silvercrest on his arm. Otherwise, his first reaction would have been a gaping-mouthed stare.
He was just as beautiful as Rowan remembered—even more so now that he’d grown into a fine young country lord. He carried himself with such grace and controlled poise that Rowan was certain he was looking at a monarch already, not just a crush he had from childhood.
But then, the reminder came shooting through his chest that the King intended to bring his mate back with him. That’s why Aster came here, he was the Omega the Tyrant was planning to marry.
During their introduction, Rowan kept a stoic look on his face. He was used to it. Emotions were inconsequential to his job now, all of them except anger. And yet, it became that much harder when he caught hold of that intense starry gaze. He couldn’t break his gaze away, and it felt like his insides were shattering beyond the thick wall that he protected his inner self with. Fragile glass within impenetrable stone. He was grateful when Aster turned his gaze to the King, it gave him a second to compose himself before Aster heard him speak for the first time.
“I swear to protect you with my life, Lord Silvercrest.” He meant every word, and prayed to the gods that Aster could find the meaning hidden beneath.
“Very well!” Darreth proclaimed. “My dear, I will leave you in his very capable hands, and see the both of you at supper!” After pressing a small kiss to Aster’s hand, the King vanished into the castle.
Aster and Rowan stood there, as the crowd of servants in the courtyard began to disperse. Rowan finally cracked the smallest of smiles as Aster drew beautiful eyes over his face, as if searching for something.
“Ser Rowan,” he said, and the name sounded foreign on his tongue. “I must ask you something…”
Here it was. Rowan took a very carefully controlled breath so as not to give himself away as servants drifted around them into the castle. “Of course,” he said plainly.
Aster’s eyebrows furrowed. “Do… I know you? You seem rather familiar to me, though I am not certain we have met.”
And just when his blackened heart had begun to see the light again, it heaved against the stone walls and shattered into a million pieces. Of course, how could he have been so foolish? A full twelve years had passed since they last saw each other, and so much had changed since he last bid him farewell that Rowan was not even the same person anymore. He heard the clashing of blades in his sleep, and his hands carried the stains of innocent and guilty blood alike.
“I don’t believe we have, My Lord.” He said, though he wanted to carve out his own throat for lying to the person he’d missed the most these long years. “My family didn’t have much standing.”
“Ah,” Aster looked disappointed, and Rowan’s chest ached. “And I have never been to the capital before… so I suppose you’re right. I apologize, you just remind me of someone I used to know.”
Rowan wanted to scream in agony until the gods finally took mercy on him. He wanted to storm through the castle and tear that howling Tyrant and all his yes-men to shreds. He wanted to grab Aster and run all the way back to their hometown, return to live the life they were supposed to have after the war.
But Ser Jace Aphelion never made it home. Rowan the Black was all that was left of him, and he was tasked with showing Aster to his chambers, so that is what he did.
“No need to apologize, Lord Silvercrest,” Rowan said simply as they walked, ignoring the lump in his throat.
Aster shook his head and waved his hand at him. “Please, don’t call me that.”
Confused, Rowan frowned. “I… have to use your title. The King decreed it.”
Aster sighed. “Of course I wouldn’t want you to disobey the King, I just… don’t feel very much like a Lord. If you must, I would prefer you just use my first name rather than my family name.”
As they climbed the steps of the castle keep, Rowan wondered fleetingly why Aster felt that way, but the thoughts abandoned him quickly. He had no place to ask for his thoughts anymore; whether or not Aster felt like a Lord, Rowan was ranked as his servant. He wanted nothing more than to talk as they used to, laying in the grassy knoll on the Silvercrest lands, watching the stars.
“As you wish, Lord Aster,” Rowan said tightly.
At the top of the stairs of the central castle keep was the suite that had been prepared for the King’s bride. Sturdy and comfortable-looking furniture was arranged around the hearth. A large, circular bed nestled in an alcove in the farthest wall, and beside it was a doorway that led to the suite’s baths. Arched windows stretched from just above the floor to nearly kiss the ceiling, which was painted with an intricate star chart. A pair of beautiful double doors opened onto a personal balcony, where flowering vines made their home on the stone railing. The section of the room opposite the bed contained a large bookcase, and a lofted area that held a desk, as well as more bookcases.
“This…”
Rowan tore his eyes away from the room to look at Aster. He looked somewhere between amazed and sad—or perhaps overwhelmed.
“Something wrong, My Lord?” Rowan asked.
Aster shook his head, taking a deep breath and folding his hands together. “No, everything is alright, it’s just… I was not expecting this.”
Still, Rowan noticed Aster’s hands. He laced his fingers together, and his thumbs did a specific little dance with each other: right over left, left over right, and stroke the knuckle. Right, left, stroke, right left stroke. It was something Aster did while he was thinking about something upsetting—and a bittersweet feeling drifted through Rowan’s chest as he realized Aster was still… Aster.
“There’re private baths through there,” he said, gesturing to the doorway. “And a cord by the bed you can use to ring the chambermaids. You can always call me, too.”
Aster nodded, but his thumbs still danced with each other. “And… when will I be required at dinner?”
“The King feasts every night at sundown. I’ll take you to the dining hall when you’re ready.”
Aster’s hands paused in their worried fidgeting, and he looked at Rowan for a moment. “Would you… stay in the room with me? I do not wish to be alone.”
Rowan nodded, resolute. “Of course.”
***
The hours ticked by much faster now that he was in Aster’s company. A couple servants brought up trunks of Aster’s possessions—books, clothing, his bow and quiver, many other things as well, but a lot less than Rowan expected Aster to carry with him.
He helped him put things away, hang his bow and sword on the wall, clear spots on the shelves for his books, and all without needing to make much conversation. He knew Aster was likely not speaking anything more than small talk because he thought Rowan to be unfamiliar to him, but he could deal with that. He was just glad to be near him again.
As the sun began to sink and turn the sky shades of orange and pink, Rowan led Aster to the dining hall. The King had a feast prepared to welcome his future mate to his new home, and the smell of it had Rowan’s mouth watering even before they entered the hall. It seemed as though the entire castle had been invited to celebrate, and Rowan noticed how closely Aster walked to him as they entered the noisy room.
“Lord Aster Silvercrest of the Southern Vale!” announced the Herald as they passed through the doors. At the proclamation, every person in the room stood and turned to look at them.
Beside him, Aster sighed once more at his own title. However, he said nothing. Rowan kept his eyes forward as he led Aster to the head table, where the grinning Tyrant awaited them.
“Welcome, my dear,” Darreth said, gesturing to the seat beside him. “What do you think?”
Aster looked around the room. “It’s rather overwhelming for my first night.” He glanced over his shoulder at Rowan, who was hanging back away from the table. “I might feel better if Ser Rowan was to sit with us. You and he are the only familiar faces in the room to me at the moment.”
“Think nothing of it, my dear,” The King raised his eyes to Rowan, then nodded at the seat beside Aster.
Sitting at the head table felt strange, but Rowan was more than happy to sit beside the man he’d sworn to protect.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Aster said as they all took their seats. “Ser Rowan has helped me settle into my chambers this afternoon, I cannot thank you enough for assigning him to me.”
“Of course.” The King grinned. “I wanted my best warrior to protect my future mate. I am glad you get along with him. Perhaps that will allow you to feel more welcome here.”
“Perhaps,” Aster chuckled, lifting his cup so a serving girl could fill it with wine. “I do apologize if I have seemed cold and distant.” It seemed to be directed at the King, but he glanced at Rowan just after he said it. “You must forgive me for not having said much.”
“Of course you are forgiven!” The King proclaimed, before Rowan had a chance to answer. “But no need to apologize to Ser Rowan, he is not much of a conversationalist anyhow! Hasn’t been, as long as I’ve known him.”
There was a reason for that, but Rowan kept his mouth shut and his head lowered, focusing on the food on his plate. And still, he could feel Aster’s gaze searing his cheek whenever his eyes flitted over to him.
“Sometimes there is virtue in those that do not speak,” Aster offered. “They are unlikely to spill secrets.”
The King laughed, and took a long drink of his wine. “Oh, surely! And that is the reason I have trusted him all these years since the war! Still, sometimes I think he is a little odd.”
Rowan looked at them out of the corner of his eye, but he swallowed his scowl with a bite of ham. He knew better than to protest.
“That seems harsh to be talking about someone you trust in such a manner when he is sitting right here,” Aster said, and Rowan almost smiled as he defended him.
“Oh, don’t think too much of it,” Darreth continued chortling. “He’s hard as a rock on the outside. Didn’t even cry for his home village when it burned down, did you, Ser Rowan?”
Aster turned concerned, sympathetic eyes to him, looking for an explanation. Rowan looked at him, before glancing back down at his plate.
“There was nothing there for me, anyway,” he said gruffly. “Family’s been gone most of my life.”
While Aster kept looking at him with pained empathy, the Tyrant just kept laughing like it was a funny story. Let him laugh, Rowan didn’t care. In truth, his family was still somewhere down south, near the Silvercrest estate. They wouldn’t want to see who he’d become.
“What was the silly little name your village had?” Darreth mused, swirling his wine around in his goblet. “Gal-something, right?”
Mild panic set in, bubbling up in Rowan’s throat like bile. He kept his eyes fixed on his plate as Aster’s gaze burned the side of his face. Still, his voice was flat as he answered: “Galyria.”
Aster’s voice carried a curious tone as he sat back, but he said nothing. Rowan hoped that he was convincing enough to keep his cover. Aster was clever, he must have known it was a lie.
Years ago, when he fought his way through the losing battle at the siege of the palace, the lie had tumbled from his lips so easily. In that single moment, Ser Jaceron Aphelion was no more, as he stood bleeding before the Usurper’s blade. In that moment, he became Rowan, a nameless peasant from a small village in the east—a village that did not exist. A village to which he gave the first name he could think of: Galyria, a fictional country in a book Aster shared with him when they were children.
He could still picture the nights by the Silvercrest hearth, where he would struggle to stay awake after a long day of grueling work in the stables, just to hear Aster read the stories to him. Stories of adventure, of heroes that flew on the backs of dragons, of lovers that withstood every challenge the gods threw at them, of warriors that battled to their last breath, and so many more. The way Aster read the stories would transport him there, and he didn’t want to fall asleep and miss the journey.
“I am sorry for the loss of your family, Ser Rowan,” Aster said, breaking him out of his memories.
Rowan cleared his throat and shook his head. “It’s alright, My Lord.”
“He has a new family now, my dear,” The King interjected. “Just as you will.”
After a pause for them to continue eating, Aster spoke up again. “Your Grace, if I would be permitted, I would like to explore the city.”
“The city?” The King mumbled around his mouthful.
“Yes, My King. It is my first time in Lupercal, after all. And how am I to rule at your side if I do not know the streets?”
The King seemed to want to deny him for a moment, until Rowan spoke up:
“Pardon, Your Grace. If a tour of the city’s what he wants, I can take him around on the morrow. He’ll be protected, and no one knows these streets better than me.”
Aster tossed a very quick, grateful glance over his shoulder at him. The King considered it for a moment, and those cold hazel eyes trained on Rowan, as if suspecting him of something. Rowan only kept a stoic look on his face.
“Alright, I’ll allow that. As long as you never leave his side, Rowan. Can’t be losing our future Sovereign Consort on his second day, now can we?”
“Of course not.”
The King truly had nothing to worry about. Rowan was never leaving Aster’s side ever again.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone