The 2nd Month, of 327 AC

Derek

All around him the clashes of steel rang out. Light taps followed by the slamming of metal against full plates. The mud at Derek's feet sloshed as he approached his opponent. Mere feet ahead of him stood Edrick, a man who knew his way with wielding steel. Even now, before the two closed in on one another, Derek knew he stood only the vaguest portion of a chance against the man. His own hand was uncomfortable around the sword, he hated it's weight and it's implied usage of killing. His opposite looked comfortable with the tool in his hand. An extension of the man's body. Derek's father had told him once long ago that a true swordsman held no sword, but an arm with a sharp end to it. The words made sense to Derek but he'd never put the two together, his hits were always awkward.

Even still, he'd signed up for entertainment, not to win. Him, Cadder, and Lucas, together once again to practice the sword. Derek had looked forward to it, commented on his brother's height being more for him to hit, joked about pulling on Cadder's hair until he yeilded. The laughter had gone away now though, the crowd cheered but Derek knew nothing but the dulled blade in his own hand, and the one in his opponents. A flurry of movement, and the two met. Derek's swings were enough for a while, he parried as his father had taught him, watched his opponents footing as his brother had shown him, and attacked as Cadder had demonstrated years before. Steel clashed. Another flurry of strikes, a foot sliding in the mud, a sword knocked far out of the way, and one final hit sent Derek to the ground unconscious.

Cadder

He'd watched the men carry Derek off the field and into the crowd. He chuckled, pointing out to an Enderly man near him that their lord had fallen to a Stark. His smile flipped suddenly, his face contorted. Something felt off. The mud dripping from Derek's body, hair hanging over Derek's forehead in wisps, the way his body hung limp. His internals felt twisted, like something had been thrown at him and didn't bounce off.

Slowly he pushed his way through the crowd searching endlessly for his cousin. Finally after what felt like hours of frantically rushing through the gatherings of men from all the houses, a gloved hand yanked him backwards. Lucas' face shown pale and bright. The grey sky behind him only highlighting the redness of his cheeks. "Cadder, they took Derek back to his room. You're up next though, against the same man nonetheless. Go show him that an Enderly can take a Stark in the field as much as any house can." He laughed, and Cadder felt reassured. He pushed his way back to the crowd, on either side men made bets on him or the Stark. Some Enderly soldiers called out to him, "My money's on you my lord, go fuck him up!" Cadder smirked lightly, and he nodded shyly. Under the gloves and padding his hands shook as they'd done months ago when he'd taken another man's life for the first time.

A terrible nervousness had taken control of his body, and he wanted nothing but to run. The Enderly sigil flying in the distance kept his feet moving. A fox, white against black, a light in the darkness, hope against cruelty. The fox stood on it's hind legs, proud of itself, ready to stand for it's kin, but still obediently looking onward. Hope, pride, family, and loyalty. Cadder pushed on, he lifted himself over the railing of the makeshift fighting field, being handed his dulled sword on the way, he tested the weight in both hands. "Fair enough." He whispered to himself, settling the sword in his right hand.

The fight started off quick, both the Stark and Cadder were fairly matched. But in a similar fashion to how Derek was knocked off balance, another carefully executed but strong swing came down upon Cadder. His reflexes forced his sword arm up, the hit knocked the blade downwards and left it sticking upright in the mud as Cadder was sent reeling to the ground. He heard movement behind him, footsetps in the mud, and went to pull his sword from the muck to block his opponent.

It stuck.

Edrick spoke clearly above him. "It won't hurt," he laughed. "Just close your eyes. Honestly, dropping your fucking sword..." He couldn't have known how bad it would be when he swung the sword. But in a moment, every man in attendance found out.

Edrick’s steel, blunted as it may have been, lashed down through the air, and Cadder watched in horror. Through some amazing feat of speed his body willed his arm upwards before he could think twice about the action. His muscles tensed as the sword came down.

A crack echoed. And waves of spiked pain shot through his arm. Cadder's eyes opened slowly. The crowd had stopped and a silence took over the field. White stood out from the arm, the flesh was torn in ways he could not imagine. Crimson pooled thick in his wound. The pain below his elbow stopped, his hand fell limp. Blood drained from his body, sliding it's way down his arm stretched out above him. As the blood began to drip before him, everything in his vision began to grow dark, the edges of the world were lost to the void of nothingness, and he fell limp in the field.

Derek

The world came back slowly. A handful of candles were lit and placed in carefully selected locations. Derek tried to shift his weight, but his body felt heavy with bruises and scrapes and deeper cuts. His head pounded and he grimaced. A groan escaped his mouth and from a chair in the corner of the room Lucas' face perked up suddenly.

"Derek." His face was that of concern, his eyes shined with wetness in the candlelight. He stood up quickly and rushed to the door, his footsteps falling heavy and rhythmic as a soldier's did. Derek could just barely see that his brother was whispering to a man outside the door.

Glancing to his left he could see Cadder laying in a bed a few feet from him. His back was pressed against the stone wall. His cousin's arm was wrapped heavily and a sling kept it held in place. "C...Cad...Cadder?" Derek's voice was dry and his sudden craving for water or ale was second only to his interest in why his cousin lay in the same room as him.

There was no response and Derek tried to shift his weight again, pushing back against the intense pain in his upper body. His arms pulled him up, but his legs didn't respond.

For the briefest of moments Derek wondered whether or not he'd been dreaming. His body felt whole, but underneath the blankets there was no movement, no response to what he wanted. "Fuck." Was all he could say. He pulled again, with his arms now, but they struggled to lift him upwards.

"No. Fuck. Shite. Fucking." A flurry of curses erupted from his mouth as he pulled himself backwards, barely moving at all against the dead weight of his legs. Cadder shuffled and looked over.

"By the gods. You're awake cousin." Cadder lifted his legs over the bedside and placed his bare feet on the floor. He was generous with the movement of his arm, but still grimaced in pain occasionally. Silence took the two of them as they looked eachother in the eyes. Derek began to cry. Small streams slid down his face and dropped onto his shirt.

"What's happened to us Cadder?" Derek spoke weakly.

"Edrick fucking Stark happened, 'e fucked my arm and your-" Cadder stopped himself, a look of shame took over him and his face became shadowed.

"Why can't I move?" Derek posed the question to no one in particular, but he knew the answer. Lucas stepped back into the room. "I've a man fetching the Maester and food and water. The maester can explain what's wrong."

"Ale."

"What?"

"Ale. I want ale." Derek was cold, he leaned back, his eyes were opened wide in bewilderment. They don't fucking work anymore. His mind raced.

"It'll be fine Derek, you're okay, everything is alright." Lucas tried to reassure him, but it did nothing to fix anything Derek had worried about.

A commotion from outside drew the attention of all three men, and the familiar figure of Milah threw the door open. Her eyes were red and her face was dry with tears. "My husband's bad enough, and now you lot go and get yourselves hurt too? Why do men act so foolish?" She went to her brother, practically throwing herself at him, arms tightly squeezing him as if trying to see if he'd disappear if she squeezed too hard.

"The maester's said you'll never use your arms again, and Derek'll never walk. Who did it Cadder? I'll have my husband kill him. Who's hurt you both?" Milah slowly deteriorated until she was balling, her face buried into Cadder's good shoulder, her cries were muffled.

Derek searched the faces of his family, they felt familiar but different. None of them had changed in years, and yet the memories of laughing with his cousins, or convincing Lucas to sneak out past dark with him were far away, almost unreachable.