4Invulnerable
Author's Notes: This is a story that has been in works for quite a while... I'm not sure if it's good as a one-shot or if I should write more chapters which was what I originally planned to do. (Please tell me what you think about that?) I hope you'll enjoy reading this anyway, don't hesitate to click the review button when you're done and let me know what you think.
He had never believed in showing any weakness. Showing weakness, even in the presence of the ones he trusted, was almost the same as showing one's fear. Whether it had been a matter of facing older, bullying children when he was little or an enemy on the battlefield, Galleon never faltered. One had to look deep into his eyes to be able to find a flicker of weakness. It was this that had brought him to where he was today and to a ragged tent that look like it could be defeated by the weakest breeze.
Attacks from the Armes were hardly unusual, but their attempts to invade Falena had always been fought back easily. This particular battle, however, had been a little more damaging than the previous ones. Commander Myghal had led the defense in the name of Queen Olhazeta. As the newest appointed Queen's Knight, Galleon had been chosen to accompany him. They had been victorious, but not without lives being lost. Hundreds of soldiers lay injured, begging for help or mercy. Galleon had taken a few blows in the battle and did not consider his injuries of enough importance to receive treatment. Commander Myghal believed otherwise, which was why Galleon had been sent to the infirmary tent for treatment.
He had sat there for the past four hours, eyes shut and attempting to ignore the pain. After a while pain was nothing but a dull thought in his mind and even the increasing numbness in his leg could not change his resolution. He was a man of twenty five, after all. It was not very becoming of someone in his age to complain about pain like a child.
"Are you dead or just asleep?"
Opening his eyes, the first time he saw was the hem of a white dress and a pair of dirtied shoes just where the dress ended. His eyes trailing further up, he saw a sheer, violet robe worn over the dress, a hand holding a large bag, another hand holding a roll of bandage, strands of long brown hair which had fallen out of their bindings, something confirming that the person was definitely a woman and then finally a face. He managed to catch a glimpse of dark eyes and a sharp nose before the woman suddenly knelt down. She dropped her bag and the bandage and used both hands and all her strength to pull off a piece of broken armor. Then she leaned in, examining the wound of his leg closely without a word.
Galleon resisted making a grimace. Not that he had been around doctors much, but something told him that this doctor was lacking extremely in beside manners. That was, if she was a doctor at all. Though her shoes were a little dirty, her white dress was clean and the robe she wore was clearly one more suited for daughters of nobles rather than an army doctor. A portion hair was pulled away from her face and arranged in an intricate manner on the back of her head, with hair pins and a wooden hair comb. The rest of her hair hung freely and reached all the way to the small of her back.
"I'm a doctor, not a painting to be stared at," the woman muttered, irritated.
She glanced at Galleon, who looked away instinctively, before turning her attention back to his wound. After a while, she opened up her bag and took out a pair of scissors. Without asking for his permission, she cut a slit open in his pants, allowing his wound to be fully exposed. The sight of his own wound was a reminder of the pain Galleon felt. Had the wound really been that big when he had first acknowledged it?
"You should have told someone to take a look at this hours ago," the woman went on, frowning as she picked up a few more things from her bag.
"I did not think..." Galleon started in his defense.
"Yes," the woman cut off, looking up and meeting his eyes. "You clearly did not think."
His mouth still half open from the words he had been denied to say, he watched her open a bottle and wet a white cloth with its liquid. Just as she reached up to clean his wound with the cloth, he instinctively pulled his leg away.
"What now?"
She glared intensely at him.
"The blood will stain your clothes," Galleon replied, eyes fixed on the long sleeves of her robes.
The woman continued to stare at him, as if his words were something that needed to be thought about and questioned. After a while she just rolled her eyes and pulled her sleeves back before starting to clean his wound.
It was not difficult to find out what her name was. There were other doctors in the infirmary tent and once in a while they could call for assistance. After the woman had tended to his wound and given him a stern order to stay until she told him otherwise, she gathered her things and left upon being called: "Silva!"
Galleon watched her from the bed he had been confined to, having nothing else to do and needing to distract himself from the pain in his leg. She would run from one sick bed to another, assisting other doctors or tending to injuries on her own. Her face seemed constantly fixed in a frown and Galleon could not help but to notice that the more patients she tended to, the more stained her clothes became. At the end of the day he had not moved since she had left him and when she finally returned, the sleeves of her robe were stained with blood. Her hair was mostly in place, safe for a few strands by her ear. Though still frowning and looking very tired, the first thing she did was to kneel down and check on his wound.
She kneeled on the ground, without any concern for how the dirt would stick to her dress.
"Looks like you'll be okay," Silva said after a while and looked up at him. "You're lucky, another inch or two and there wouldn't have even been a leg worth saving. Here, take some of this every day for the pain."
She tossed a small pouch at him and he caught it easily, though in the back of his mind he needed to remind himself that he actually was in pain. Somehow, with her being there it had slipped in mind.
He did not even notice that he had been staring at her, but Silva did. She let out something between a dry laugh and a sigh.
"What?" she demanded.
"Your robe," he said simply.
Before he had the chance to explain further, she took a look at herself and somehow understood exactly what he meant. Instead of sighing over the ruined robe, Silva shrugged it off her shoulders before pulling her arms out and taking the robe off entirely.
To Galleon's surprise she started to rip the robe into shreds. He stared at her with his jaw hanging slightly. This woman, Silva, behaved like no other woman he had met before.
"What are you doing?" he questioned.
"We can use these to bandage wounds," Silva explained, continuing to rip her robe apart. "The wounded will benefit more from this robe than I will."
She sorted the shreds, the bloodied and stained ones in one pile and the clean ones in another. A violet robe with gold embroideries and made from the finest silk... shredded to become bandages for crippled soldiers. Galleon watched her with a sudden enormous amount of curiosity.
"Are you a noble?" he asked.
Silva looked up and met his eyes briefly before going back to sorting the shreds of the robe.
"My mother was of the house of Godwin," she answered briefly.
A noble then. Even if he had not asked the question the answer was already obvious. Her robe, before she had torn it apart, dress and her delicate hands were all proof that she was of noble birth. But there she was, in the infirmary tent, tending to simple, wounded men of no nobility such as himself. She paid no regard to her appearance, ripping apart that expensive robe to make bandages. The dress she had worn underneath did not cover her arms and parts of it were already covered in dirt and blood.
Galleon stared at her, almost dumbly.
"If you are a noble, then why are you..." he started.
"Because I'm a doctor," Silva finished for him. "I heard about the battle and came here as soon as I could."
"And your family allowed it?"
Silva gathered the clean shreds in her arms and stood up. Their eyes met and they were both stubborn enough to not look away. She practically towered over Galleon since he was sitting. Had he been standing up they would have both noticed that he was a head taller than her. Yet there was something in the way she held herself and the way she looked at him. It gave him a feeling that even though he could stand up he could never tower over her.
"Are you a soldier first?" she asked. "Does your duty come before everything?"
"Of course," Galleon answered automatically.
Her lips almost formed a smile.
"Then you should understand. I am a doctor first, just as you are a soldier."
"Queen's Knight," Galleon corrected, although he was not sure why he felt that need.
Suddenly Silva laughed, shaking her head slightly at the same time. She folded the bandages together and grabbed her bag of medical supplies.
"Alright then... get some rest now, I have other patients to check on."
She turned around to leave. Before Galleon knew it he had suddenly reached out his arm and grabbed her wrist as if to stop her.
Silva gasped quietly, dropping all the shreds and her bag to the ground. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him, eyes slightly wide in surprise. For a moment everything around him just faded away, all the noise in the background, cries of the wounded and the smell of blood just disappeared. In that moment, in the way her eyes had opened in surprise, he saw just a glimpse of something. This woman was more than ordinary. Looking into her eyes, Galleon did not think of physical beauty or her status as a noble. What he saw was not only a doctor, but a woman of incredible strength and will.
Her skin felt smooth against his calloused hands.
Quickly becoming aware of how inappropriate his behavior was, Galleon let go of her wrist instantly.
"Forgive me," he mumbled, not daring to look at her. There were rules and protocols for a reason, he should have known better than take the hand of a noble lady like that. He did not know what had come over him.
Silva pulled back her hand, slightly puzzled at Galleon's actions. But rather than showing any disapproval over it, she just rolled her eyes.
"Why do you feel the need to apologize?" she snapped, almost irritated. "I am not a porcelain doll that will break upon touch."
She got down on her knees to pick up the shreds she had dropped earlier and sighed. The way she sighed almost made Galleon feel guilty for having apologized to her.
Confused about what to say in response, Galleon said nothing at all and quietly helped her gather all the things she had dropped on the ground. It did not take long before she had all her things in her hands again and prepared to leave.
"Was there anything you wanted to say?" she asked briskly. "Since you obviously did not want me to leave."
Again, Galleon did not know what to say. Had that been the case, had he grabbed her wrist because he did not want her to leave? He had only had a few minutes of conversation with her, not all had been pleasant. In fact, he couldn't remember anything that Silva had said that had been expressed in a pleasant tone. He was not sure if it was just with him, but she spoke in a brusque tone and sometimes talked to him like he was a nuisance.
But he had seen her running around the infirmary tent all day, tending to wound after wound, trying to save those who could not be saved. Yet she came running whenever someone called her name, asked her to do more and more. Her clothes were stained and dirtied, confirming just how many hours she had been up on her feet without the slightest rest.
When Galleon looked at her now, there was no sign of any fatigue in her eyes.
Not a flicker of weakness.
"I..." he started, not sure of how to express himself. "I would like to speak to you again."
Upon hearing his answer, Silva chuckled.
"Don't worry sir Queen's Knight... I'll be back to check your wound later," she assured.
It was not exactly what Galleon had meant but he guessed that it would have to do for now.
As Silva turned around to leave, he saw her lips forming a smile as if she was thinking about something endearing.
