Lys: For Lo, His Doom Is Sure

Aithne managed some bread and a few apple slices. The cheese, she discovered, was beyond her abilities at the moment. Cathair let it slide, and she carried a cup of cider when they walked back to the room.

The two of them stood in the doorway- Cathair behind her. Though she could not see his face, she knew what it would look like now. Grim, determined... she wondered if Lord Ambrosius realized just how much Cathair respected and esteemed him. A lesser man would've been ignored in Cathair's rush for revenge.

Or maybe her husband-to-be was changing. Ten years settled a person, this she knew. She had to remember that she wasn't the only one who had lived those ten years. Cathair wasn't seventeen. The fact that his first seventeen years were exactly the same in regards to personality didn't truly matter. Somewhere along the way, her Cathair had learned some patience and self-control.

She looked about the room. It was set for council- for the trial of the valley's enemies captured in battle. England's enemies. She looked at the faces of Lord Artos and Lord Ambrosius, and saw the side reserved for those who would do their people harm.

Terrible is the judgement which comes from our lord's hands.
Swift as Nike, more fearful than Thor.
Our lord, our two lords, both answering to One-
Truth is their scale, justice their sword.

Fear, you wrongdoers. Hide your face.

Your doom is sure.

She shuddered and came back to herself. Cathair was trying to find them an appropriate place to stand.

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