Chapter 14

Beowulf had to admit that he felt a little nervous as his parents approached himself and Thedrick, especially given the look of detestment that Oriana was giving the jester. Beowulf placed a heavy gauntleted hand on the vampire’s shoulder in protective reassurance.

“My dear boy, I couldn’t be more proud of you!” Beowulf’s father declared joyfully, looking up at his son’s helmet with a grin. Then his eyes turned down to look at Thedrick instead with a spark of curiosity. “Oh, this must be your little jester friend which your mother despises so much,” he said, still in a cheerful tone, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Y-Yes, this is Thedrick,” Beowulf introduced him with a gesture. “Thedrick, this is my father, Jonathan. I don’t think you two have had the chance to meet before.”

Beowulf watched as Thedrick gave Jonathan a nervous smile, though also noticed that the vampire was glancing at Oriana’s displeased features every now and then. “H-Hi!” the jester squeaked out in a high-pitched tone, his pale features flushing lightly.

Jon leaned down and reached out a large hand towards the jester. “Nice to meet you, Thedrick,” he said in a very earnest manner.

Thedrick blinked up at him with some confusion for a moment, before reaching out both his small gloves hands to wrap around Jon’s large one, and then shook his hand. After a couple of shakes Thedrick let go of the big guy's hand, and Jon straightened up while beaming down at him, before turning his attention back to Beowulf.

“You should really bring him around for dinner sometime, have a proper little family celebration,” Jon said encouragingly as he smiled up at Beowulf.

“Jon!” Oriana hissed at her husband. “What do you think you’re doing? You know what he is!”

Jon turned his head to give his wife a very gentle, patient look. “Yes dear, but what you or I think about that doesn’t really matter. Beowulf has shown us over the past few years that he is not going to let our opinions sway him. So I think if we want our son to be part of our lives again, we need to try to accept his choice of company.”

Oriana made a noise of displeasure, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from them slightly, scowling.

“Or since you will now have your own homestead, perhaps it will be you inviting us to visit sometime?” Jon questioned Beowulf cheerily, seeming to ignore his wife's silent protest.

“This is all so much at once… I never thought about having my own house before, what will I even put in it?” Beowulf mused humorously, smiling at his father from behind his visor.

“Is that you Jonathan?” a voice called out, grabbing everyone's attention. They all looked over to its source, and saw Cassian approaching, carrying the young queen down the throne steps. Once reaching the bottom he placed her down, and Maerwynn quickly ran straight over to Beowulf, stopping at his feet and smiling up at him. Beowulf bent down, which was a little tricker than normal in full plate armour, and scooped the young queen into his arms, lifting her up to hold as he always did, so she wouldn’t feel like she was being overlooked.

“Cass!” Jon exclaimed, turning around and instantly stepping towards the training officer. Cassian beamed as he walked towards Jon, and once he reached him the two men threw their arms around each other, Cassian ending up enveloped in the larger man’s embrace.

“It’s been a long time Jon,” Cassian remarked as the two of them broke apart, Jon patting the officer on the back with a large hand. The rest of them stood watching the two apparently old friends with surprise.

“That it has. Bet you have been rather busy since the war, aye?” Jon asked jovially, all smiles. “You've been taking good care of my son, yes?”

“Best soldier I’ve ever had the pleasure to train!” Cassian exclaimed, shooting Beowulf a beaming grin. “He’s certainly knocked a few heads together and earned that shiny new armour.”

“Full glad am I, and proud too, that he’s done so much better than I ever did in the army,” Jonathan said with a smirk.

“Don’t sell yourself short Jon. A more loyal comrade in arms, and friend, no one could ever ask for. And level-headed too. Why, perhaps if I had you in my squad during my last campaign you might have managed to stop me stuffing up so royally,” Cassian commented with a whimsical smile.

“No offence, Cass, but I’m glad I didn’t end up dying in the mud with you,” Jon joked with an awkward grin.

“I guess I can’t hold that against you,” Cassian mused. “It’s probably for the best you got out of it when you did, so you could be there for your family.”

“And what about you Cass, will you ever start a family?” Jon asked merrily, a glint in his eye.

Cassian seemed a little awkwardly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Well, considering the number of teenage knuckleheads I deal with on a daily basis, I don’t really see the need to make more of my own,” he explained with a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. “Plus, I have the young queen to look after too.”

“We’re almost like a big family here at the castle,” Beowulf piped in as he stepped over towards the other two men.

“You mean you made friends other than Thedrick?” Jon asked his son with slight surprise.

Beowulf nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, like one of the other guards, Emil, he’s my friend!” he said, and then started glancing around the room to see if he could see said friend anywhere nearby.

“Good for you lad!” Jon said, beaming happily. Beowulf could see that Cassian seemed like he was trying to suppress some mirth. Beowulf wondered what he was finding so funny, though when the officer noticed the knight looking at him his smile fell, and he glanced away.

“Captain Hunter,” a voice interrupted their conversation, causing them all to turn to see the woman general approaching their group, her eyes on Cassian. Beowulf then remembered that Hunter was Cassian’s surname, though he barely ever heard anyone using it when referring to the officer.

“General Bergstrom, how can I assist?” Cassian asked, turning his full attention towards her.

“I would like to discuss some matters with you captain, if you are not too busy,” the general said, glancing around at the rest of them with mild interest for a moment.

“Sure, though, has it really been so long that you can’t call me by my name anymore, Sigrid?” Cassian asked light-heartedly as he stepped towards her.

Sigrid rolled her eyes slightly. “We’re not friends, if that’s what you are thinking,” she admonished him lightly. “Nice to see you are well, Jon,” she added with a nod at Beowulf’s father, before she began walking away with Cassian by her side while he continued to try and be friendly towards her, despite what she had said.

Jon turned his attention back to his son. “I’m so happy for you my boy, keep making us proud. I hope we will get the chance to share a meal with you and Thedrick sometime soon. I will always welcome you home,” Jon said, smiling at Beowulf warmly. “Come on now Oriana, we should let our boy get back to his knightly duties,” he added, gesturing to his wife as he turned to leave.

Oriana started to follow him but then paused and turned back towards Beowulf, looking at him with concern. She took a few steps towards her son, looking up at him beseechingly. “Beowulf… I am so glad that you are okay… please take care of yourself…” she said, before turning and following her husband away.

Beowulf, Maerwynn and Thedrick all quietly watched them go, Thedrick finally coming out of his hiding spot behind Beowulf where he had been quietly watching the interactions. 

“Who were they?” Maerwynn suddenly asked.

A smile pulled at Beowulf’s lips, and he couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Those were my parents,” he told her gently.

Maerwynn looked thoughtful for a moment, before turning her gaze upon Thedrick. “Where are your parents, papa?” she asked him innocently.

Thedrick looked a little alarmed at that question, and Beowulf shared that feeling, though his own expression was obscured from showing it. “Oh, well, they live in another kingdom sweetie. Very far away,” he explained avoidantly.

“Will I ever get to meet them?” Maerwynn continued to question, cocking her head to one side as she looked expectantly at her father.

“Hopefully no- I mean, probably not dearest,” Thedrick quickly said, giving her an apologetic look.

Beowulf noticed how crestfallen Maerwynn seemed at that, and he thought quickly of how he could cheer her up and take her mind off it. “Your highness, would you like to go into the main hall now, join the rest of the party?” Beowulf asked her, even though he didn’t particularly want to go in there as then there would probably be a lot of eyes on him again.

“Yes!” the young queen said brightly, a smile returning to her face.

“Thedrick, would you mind taking her to the main hall?” Beowulf asked, holding the child out towards her father, who looked at the knight with confusion for a moment. “I just need a moment to compose myself and prepare to talk to more people, I’ll catch up to you soon,” Beowulf explained as he set the queen down next to Thedrick and the jester took her small hand in his. Thedrick raised an eyebrow at Beowulf, but he nodded and started leading his daughter away towards the main hall by the hand, the young queen looking excited.

Beowulf retreated over to the side of the room, leaning for a moment on a support column. The full plate armour was rather heavy, and warm as well. His hand and chest ached from where he had been cut and burned. He was also feeling rather overwhelmed by all the attention he had received so far. He would have preferred to retreat somewhere quiet for the rest of the day, but he knew he would be expected to join everyone in the main hall at least for a while, to keep up appearances.

Taking a deep breath to pull himself together, Beowulf straightened himself up, and turned to head off towards the main hall. He needed to get back to the queen in order to properly protect her. Though he was hoping that he could convince Maerwynn to leave the celebrations after a while so he wouldn’t have to spend too many hours standing around in the hot, heavy armour.

As Beowulf approached the door out of the room, he was surprised to see a small crowd of people gathered around it. Getting closer he soon realised that it was a group of young women, noble born by the looks of the fancy frocks that they were dressed in. Beowulf suddenly froze in place for a moment when he realised that all of the ladies were looking directly at him, some smiling and others covering their mouth with their hand to hide a giggle. Beowulf felt momentarily self-conscious and flustered, but he tried to snap himself out of it and close the distance between himself and the doorway, despite the fact that the women were directly blocking his path.

“Hello ladies,” Beowulf said politely as he stopped in front of them, nodding towards them and trying to indicate that he would like to pass through them without rudely demanding that they move out of the way.

“Hello Sir Beowulf!”
“Greetings Sir Knight.”
“Hi Beowulf!” 

A chorus of voices from the group of ladies greeted him, punctuated by giggles. Then suddenly the ladies were moving, but not so much out of the way like Beowulf had hoped. Instead, they moved towards him and started to surround him, until he had a crowd of pretty faces all looking up at him and smiling.

“How did you get to be so big and strong Beowulf?” one lady asked.

“Is it true that you ripped a man’s arm off?” asked another before Beowulf had a chance to respond to the first question.

“Did you really crush an assassin's skull with your bare hands?” yet another one of the young women queried.

“Well, uh, yes, I suppose I did,” Beowulf said unsurely in response to the latter two questions, unsure of how to actually answer the first one.

“Wow, you must be incredibly strong!” one woman exclaimed in awe.

“And brave!” another one added.

“Well, I was just doing my job…” Beowulf said softly, feeling embarrassed about being the centre of attention again.

“Such dedication to his work!” one of the ladies announced. Beowulf just now realised that some of the girls who were closest to him were touching his armour, running their soft, delicate fingers across the shiny plate metal. They were all still looking up at him with rosy cheeked smiles.

“Tell us, Sir Beowulf, do you perhaps have a special lady friend in your life?” one of the women closest to him, who was gently touching his gauntlet, asked with a grin.

The question confused Beowulf. “Um, no, not really,” he said, unable to think of any close female friends in his life. He hadn’t really had much of an opportunity to make friends with women, except Effie but she was… well, he was trying not to think about that too much now.

A chorus of murmurs and giggles broke out among the girls, turning to hushedly whisper to one another as Beowulf watched on with confusion.

“Would you like to?” the same girl asked, and suddenly all of the ladies’ attention was back on him.

“You want to be friends?” Beowulf asked in a slightly eager tone. “Well, I’d sure love to make friends with you all, ladies, but I have responsibilities I need to attend to at the moment, so I really must be going.”

“Aw, do you have to go? We want to get to know you better,” one of the girls said forlornly.

“Yes, stay a while and talk to us!” another chimed in.

Suddenly the crowd of young women started to move, the ones closest to Beowulf grabbing and pushing or pulling on him, attempting to guide him away from the door he had been trying to get through. Beowulf struggled to say something to excuse himself, but his plea was lost in the titter of feminine voices fussing over him and all trying to talk to him at once.

Beowulf started looking around desperately for help, and then spotted a beacon of hope: Emil was walking straight towards him and the group of young women. “Emil!” Beowulf called out to him, and all the ladies ceased trying to move Beowulf and turned to look at the noble, who stopped in front of their group, resting a hand on his hip.

“Girls, don’t bother wasting your time with him,” Emil said to the group of women that were all looking at him. “He’s… you know…” the noble raised one arm in front of himself and let his hand go limp at the wrist.

A flurry of low mutters passed through the small crowd of ladies, and the ones who had been holding onto Beowulf suddenly let him go. They all seemed to be looking at Emil with a mixture of disappointment, confusion, and maybe even disbelief. Beowulf was entirely confused and had no idea what was going on.

“Fine, fine, we’ll back off your mark, Rosenthorne,” one of the more confident, outspoken ladies, probably the leader of the group, said to Emil. “Come on girls, let’s get going,” she said to the rest of the group, gesturing and leading them away from Beowulf. As they moved away and were no longer surrounding the knight, Beowulf felt some of the nervous tension leave his body.

“Having fun with all the attention you’re now getting, Sir Knight?” Emil asked with a smirk as he stepped in closer to Beowulf.

“Well, they seemed like very nice ladies, but it’s all a little overwhelming,” Beowulf admitted, smiling down at Emil behind his visor.

Beowulf wondered why it seemed like Emil was holding back laughter for a moment. “They didn’t warn you about the popularity that comes along with a knighthood?” Emil teased gently.

“Well, I mean, I would love to have more friends, but I don’t have time to get to know them all right now,” Beowulf attempted to explain. “I have to get to the main hall to watch over Maerwynn. Are you heading there too?”

Emil was bent over with his hands on his thighs, wheezing with laughter. Beowulf cocked his head at him with confusion, still wondering about whatever joke he was missing. “What’s so funny?” the knight ended up asking, feeling a little defensive now that he seemed to be being made fun of without understanding why.

“It’s nothing, I’m sorry Beowulf, you’re fine,” Emil quickly apologised as he straightened up, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Come on, let’s get you back to the queen before Thedrick somehow ends up getting them both into trouble again, if he hasn’t already.”

Emil grabbed Beowulf’s large, armoured mitt in his own hand and started to pull the knight back towards the door. Beowulf allowed himself to be pulled along by the smaller guard, watching Emil with affection as he was led to the main hall. He was so glad he had finally been able to become friends with the noble, even though it had taken a few trials and tribulations to reach that point. Maybe if this celebration was a chance for Beowulf to hang out with Emil, it wouldn’t be so bad after all.