Chapter 2
It did not take long for Beowulf to find Thedrick, as he knew of the jester’s favourite places. He could often be found out in the courtyard or in the roof garden, always basking in the sun’s warm rays. It made sense, as the small man was usually very cold to the touch, that he’d want to warm himself like a lizard on a rock. And if he wanted to be alone to grieve, the roof garden was barely frequented by anyone, so he could be left undisturbed. Except if Beowulf had any say in the matter.
Beowulf stepped out into the open air, the world around him illuminated by the dimming rays of the setting sun. He quickly spotted the jester, seated on the wall surrounding the roof, knees pulled up against his chest and arms wrapped around them. He appeared to be staring off into the distance, at the sun which was already partially obscured by the hills on the horizon.
Stepping as gently as possible over to where Thedrick sat, Beowulf lowered himself down to take a seat next to him on the wall, facing the garden. Thedrick’s eyes glanced at Beowulf for a moment, but he didn’t turn towards him. Beowulf placed a hand on Thedrick’s back while examining his pale face. Wet streaks from tears ran down his cheeks, causing his makeup to smear.
It was a little strange, seeing Thedrick so genuinely upset like this. Sure, he had been upset each time someone had tried to kill him, though that was a different kind of upset, one caused by fear. This time was different, Thedrick seemed a lot more despondent. Beowulf wondered if he was feeling guilty about the queen’s death after all, despite the fact he had stated it wasn’t his fault.
“This isn’t your fault, Thedrick, and anyone who thinks so is wrong. You didn’t cause the queen’s death,” Beowulf attempted to gently reassure.
“I know it’s not! Though I am sad that she is gone,” Thedrick stated, sniffling.
“So you’re grieving. I hadn’t quite realised… how close you two were.” Beowulf couldn’t stop himself from sounding rather awkward. He was as surprised as anyone at the new information about the relationship between the jester and the monarch. Though he understood it would have taken place before he and Thedrick had met, as the queen was already visibly pregnant by then.
“A bit but… I’m also worried…” Thedrick mumbled, pressing his forehead against his knees.
“About people blaming you?” Beowulf tried to coax Thedrick to explain what he was feeling.
“Well, a little, but… I’m worried about her…” Thedrick’s breath hitched in his throat slightly as he tried to talk.
“... About your daughter?” Beowulf asked plainly.
“... y-yes…” Thedrick stuttered hesitantly. “Gods it’s… weird to hear you call her that.”
“What are you worried about?” Beowulf prompted, but could already make a fair guess as to the answer.
“About how much she will be… like me. How much of a… vampire…” Thedrick sighed wearily. “Will she hunger for blood? Will she be able to control it? What if people find out what I am, then she would be persecuted as well!” Thedrick looked up at Beowulf in distress now, tears pooling in his large red eyes once more.
Beowulf put his large hands around Thedrick’s small body and then gently pulled the vampire into his lap, leaning him against his broad chest. Thedrick buried his face into Beowulf’s chest as he sobbed, the soldier holding him tightly.
“You managed to control your hunger in your childhood and not be discovered, right?” Beowulf asked gently.
Thedrick sniffled and shook his head. “No… that’s why I had to run away… or they would have killed me…” he explained through shaky breaths.
Beowulf frowned. “Look, it will be alright, Thedrick. If Maerwynn needs blood, I can keep you both fed. And I’m sure Balthasar will help us to keep it all a secret,” Beowulf offered as assurance.
Thedrick reached up and started wiping the tears from his eyes and face, smearing his makeup all over his white gloves. “You shouldn’t have to bear the burden of my mistakes…” he said sadly.
“You’re not a burden,” Beowulf stated, still frowning.
“Yes, I am!” Thedrick exclaimed, scowling. “I’m reliant on human blood to be healthy. I can survive somewhat on animal blood but it’s not the same. I take advantage of the fact you love me, and I feel so guilty about it.”
“Are you hungry right now?” Beowulf asked, thinking that might be contributing to Thedrick’s current distressed state.
Thedrick turned his face downwards, as if to try and hide from the soldier. “... yes…” he admitted hesitantly.
Beowulf started unbuckling his brigandine and pulled it off his chest while Thedrick watched him guiltily. Pulling his shirt off his shoulder a bit, Beowulf pulled the vampire in close and upwards, so his face was near Beowulf’s shoulder. Thedrick hesitated for a moment, before sinking his fangs into the flesh which was bruised and scarred from all his previous feedings. This caused Beowulf to intake a sharp breath in response to the pain. Thedrick looked up at his face sorrowfully for a moment as he started to drink.
Beowulf didn’t mind if he had another fang filled mouth he would have to feed. Like he had wanted to keep Thedrick safe since he met him, he could do the same for the young princess. He already knew how far he would go to protect them, and if it meant pulling more limbs off people who wanted to hurt them, then so be it.
****
Beowulf was glad that as a guard he wasn’t expected to dress up all fancy for the funeral. It had been good news for him, as he didn’t own any fancy clothing, the only clothes in his closet were simple linen or woollen shirts and pants. He could even keep his helmet on like usual, to continue to appear completely stoic and hide any tears he might shed over the kind-hearted queen who had been so nice to him over the past few months.
All of the nobles present were dressed up, even Emil, Balthasar and Thedrick, and the castle staff were also very neat and presentable. As with all funerals, the colour scheme was white and red, representative of Calliope, the moon deity and goddess of death. Least to say, Thedrick fit right in with that theme, while also looking incredibly out of place not dressed in his usual jester's outfit.
The vampire was wearing a white outfit similar to the other nobles: a crisp white dress shirt under a pale purple waistcoat, covered by a long white coat and matching white dress pants. Thedrick’s usually unruly hair was combed and pulled back into a low ponytail. Everyone in the kingdom had already heard about him being accused of being a vampire and everyone had bought the lie that he was an elf instead, so there was no need for him to hide his ears anymore.
Thedrick seemed extremely uncomfortable, fidgeting and glancing around constantly at the other people around him. Beowulf noticed the midwife was giving the jester looks of contempt, which Thedrick also seemed aware of as he kept looking over at her. It was probably for the best that not many had been introduced to the princess yet, otherwise the whole funeral party might have been staring at the jester.
It was saddening to see so many white and red tones, when really they should have been celebrating the birth of a new monarch with the golds and blues of the sun goddess Arcadia. Beowulf wondered if they might still hold such a celebration later. Though he doubted Thedrick would attend unless absolutely forced to, as that would be when everyone would see the princess and recognise her unique appearance.
The king had ordered Beowulf to stand near him as usual, and Thedrick as well, seeming to want to keep the jester close as he often did. Beowulf was fairly sure Richard was not a fool and could make the connection between Thedrick and Maerwynn like anyone else could, so it appeared that he was fine with whatever relationship had taken place between his jester and his late wife. If it was true that he could not sire children, then perhaps he had even agreed to his wife seeking another to get pregnant by. Then again, the king had always seemed very fond of his jester, so it could be that Vivienne wasn’t the only monarch whose affections Thedrick had won.
Beowulf placed a hand down on Thedrick’s shoulder, which caused the jester to flinch slightly. The soldier squeezed the vampire’s shoulder in an attempt at reassurance. He noticed that the fabric of Thedrick’s jacket was very stiff, completely the opposite of the soft, well-worn silk of his jester outfit.
The funeral pyre was stacked high with wood so it would burn large and bright, a rightful send-off for a person of great importance. The body lying on top was covered in a white sheet. The priestesses from the town church stood around the pyre at the cardinal points, the head priestess the one to speak the blessings to the watching crowd.
The king was the one to hold the ceremonial torch, which when lit had flames licking up around an iron sphere, made to represent rays of an eclipsed sun peeking out from behind the moon. Richard used the torch to light the kindling, and soon the pyre was roaring, with leaping flames and rising smoke.
Tears were running down the king's face, and the same could be said for most of the onlookers, though there was no wailing or sobbing, everyone trying to keep it together to maintain etiquette. Thedrick was crying again, though at least this time he was not wearing any makeup to stain his face. Beowulf glanced around to try and distract himself from the urge to scoop his distressed lover up into his arms and comfort him.
He noticed that Balthasar wore his usual steely expression, though that was to be expected as not much seemed to affect the chirurgeon, and he stood out dressed in a black suit rather than white like most of the others. Beowulf also noted with some annoyance and no surprise that Emil seemed entirely unphased by the proceedings. In fact, the soldier looked almost bored where he stood by his parents, to whom he had barely spoken a word since their arrival at the funeral.
A while later, as the flames died down and the crowd began to disperse, Beowulf turned Thedrick towards him and started rubbing away his tears with his large thumbs. Thedrick let him, while staring at the ground despondently.
"You look so different like this, like an actual noble for once," Beowulf said in small talk to try and distract Thedrick from his thoughts.
"Richard insisted…" Thedrick said softly. "He sent servants to my room and they forced me into this. I hate it, it's so uncomfortable," he explained further in an irritated manner, which at least seemed to bring him back to the present.
"Beowulf," the king called, and Beowulf turned his attention towards the monarch who was walking towards them. "Come with me," Richard ordered with a nod of his head, which Beowulf returned in kind as he let go of Thedrick. "Oh, and Thedrick… you can come too if you like."
The king turned and started walking towards the castle, and Beowulf and Thedrick exchanged confused glances before following behind him. Beowulf noticed Balthasar and Cassian following them silently as well.
Richard led them to the princess’s room, and when Thedrick seemed to realise this he appeared to flinch slightly, a worried expression taking over his features. But when the king gestured for them to enter, the jester still did as he was told, following behind Beowulf as the group of them approached the crib. The nursemaid watching over the princess bowed and moved aside.
"I loved Vivienne. The marriage may have been arranged, but I cared for her deeply because she was so beautiful and kind. She wasn't made to rule, too much of a soft touch, so she let me lead in her stead,” Richard began to explain as he stepped up to stand on the opposite side of the crib, so he could look down at the resting baby girl and also at those who had followed him into the room. Cassian and Balthasar hung back near the door, while Thedrick stood next to Beowulf in front of the crib. “And now she has left me with a final task: to raise her daughter so that she can someday take the throne.”
The king gestured to the princess, who had awoken to the sound of his voice and was now smiling up at him. Richard smiled back down at her, before continuing. “She is all I have left of my wife. I want to make sure I do everything in my power to keep her safe. So, after thinking about how I can do that, I have decided, Beowulf,” he looked up at the gigantic guard, “that I will assign you as her personal bodyguard.”
Hidden under his helmet, Beowulf’s eyes widened at this, and the king continued. “I have seen firsthand how far you will go to protect my jester, and I trust you would do the same for Maerwynn. From now on you will be with her always, to keep her safe from any harm.”
A strange sense of pride swelled in Beowulf’s chest, driving him to stand up straighter. “Of course, my liege. I am honoured you would choose me for such an important task,” Beowulf said, before bowing respectfully towards Richard. “I will not let you down.”
“I know you won't, Beowulf,” the king said with a nod. “If anyone tries to harm her, you have my full permission to tear them limb from limb.”
“You think people are going to try and hurt her?” Thedrick asked in a trembling voice, his pale eyebrows drawn together in concern.
The king looked pensive for a moment. “I fear there could be some who are rather… displeased about her heritage…” he explained, looking down at Thedrick who shrunk guiltily under his gaze. This appeared to amuse Richard slightly, with smile lines creasing the corners of his eyes. “But simply with Beowulf protecting her I doubt they dare act, not after what he did to that poor vampire hunting chap.”
“I will protect her with my life,” Beowulf stated firmly, placing a hand over his heart as he stood stiff and straight.
The king nodded. “Good, I will make the arrangements for you to sleep in her room and for all your duties to be taken over by others. You will be relieved from training anymore with the other soldiers as well.” Richard smiled at the two of them, then down at the princess, before he headed out of the room, past the officer and chirurgeon who both wore worried expressions.
Once the king was gone, Balthasar and Cassian stepped over towards the crib as well. Beowulf noticed that Thedrick had his eyes fixed on his daughter, two pairs of bright red eyes looking into each other.
“Do you want to hold her, Thedrick?” Balthasar asked, which caused the nursemaid who was standing off to the side to glare daggers at him.
Thedrick glanced up at Balthasar, his eyes wide with surprise. A flurry of conflicting emotions seemed to cross his face in a moment, and he opened his mouth to try and say something, but nothing came out. Reaching into the cot, Balthasar picked up the tiny, swaddled child and held her out towards Thedrick. The jester seemed to give in, and reached out and took the baby, bringing her in close to his chest. He gazed down at her smiling face so intently, until a small smile tugged at his lips.
“She’s perfect…” Thedrick murmured, and tears started to fall from his eyes again. Quickly he held her back out for Balthasar to take, and the chirurgeon lowered her back into the cot.
“Would you mind leaving us for a moment?” Balthasar asked the disgruntled looking nursemaid, the chirurgeon making a gesture towards the door. The nursemaid huffed, but then followed his instructions, heading out of the room. Balthasar stepped over to the door quickly and shut it behind her, before returning to the cot.
“Blessed by good fortune we are, for Richard to make such a decision as this,” Balthasar said, looking at Beowulf. “If it’s blood that she needs, then you may easily provide it if you are always with her. It would also afford you the opportunity of making sure what she might be is kept secret.”
“So you’re not sure yet?” Thedrick asked, voice edged with slight distress. “Haven’t you examined her already?”
“I have,” Balthasar responded shortly, “and she is not showing any signs of vampirism at the moment. She is also drinking milk from the wetnurse like a normal babe and has yet to bite the teat that feeds her. She appears human, but we can’t know if that will change. If only I could speak to your own mother, to find out if you showed signs from birth or not, since you cannot remember.”
Thedrick huffed. “That would not be as pleasant a conversation as you might think,” he scoffed. “I am glad to be as far away from that bitch as possible.”
The other three of them looked at Thedrick in surprise at the language he had just used to refer to his mother. “What?” the jester snapped, scowling up at them. “You don’t know what she did to me.”
“Because you won’t tell us, Thedrick,” Balthasar pointed out calmly.
“Yeah well, I don’t want to talk about it!” Thedrick growled, then turned away from them all. “I hope she turns out normal,” he muttered in addition, before stalking off towards the door, leaving the three of them behind.
Beowulf wanted to take off after him, but he knew his orders, he was to stay by Maerwynn’s side. He looked at the faces of the two older men, who still wore expressions of concern.
“I will be checking on her every day, but if you notice anything strange Beowulf, make sure you let me know as soon as possible. Send a servant as a messenger if you must,” Balthasar requested, nodding at the tall soldier before heading to the doorway as well.
“I’ll miss you in training, Beowulf,” Cassian said with a slightly sad smile. “You best make friends with the nursemaid quickly, as sitting around watching a baby isn’t the most exciting job in the world.” The officer nodded at Beowulf as well, before also heading for the door, as the nursemaid walked back in.
Sighing, Beowulf pulled up another chair near the crib, as the woman took a seat on the one already there. He examined her for a moment. Her long hair was a deep ruddy brown and was pulled into two low loose pigtails, with some free stands framing her soft features.
Beowulf took off his helmet and placed it on the floor. “Hello, I’m Beowulf,” he smiled as he introduced himself to the nursemaid.
The woman looked at him in slight surprise, before cautiously returning the smile. “Hello Beowulf, my name is Effie.”