Ander watches Samaren watching Amika, and remembers (post-GotBL)

[guardiansverse]

"Are you not meant to be here as her bodyguard?"

It was a foolish thing to say, and in honesty, it had been foolish to speak at all. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ander regretted them, though not for any effect they may have on the Rogue Guardian. Samaren remained at the same perfect ease where he was standing, a good distance from where Amika was bringing all her power to bear on the three chained conspirators. Wringing confession from their souls by agony, as was only done to the worst of traitors to land and crown. A Land's Own's ugliest duty save meting out exile; even Festus Detrich, instigator of three wars, had been uneasy with it. But Frowe Stattenholme's face was masked in perfect cold composure. And Samaren watched, and Ander cursed himself for calling attention to how closely he watched.

"Look at her, General," Samaren said in response, softly, without as much as a shift of the eyes, "and tell me, does she need guarding?"

Ander did not need to look. He had himself played the role of the bodyguard in half a dozen such proceedings himself, while Festus - whose fury had never been a cold thing - would grab a chained man's face to tilt it upward, look in his eyes, and tear his soul open. Festus had been a solider, and he had been the land's rage and its justice, brutal and righteous. But Amika was a young lady in white. She did not touch the men before her, nor did she fling their guilt in their faces as Festus would have, for the crowd. She stood in silence, delicate hands at her sides, her palms out, and the men crumpled before her and wept.

And Samaren watched. Just as Ander had, once. And just as Ander had been, he was rapt and frozen. Ander looked at him instead, at the faint catch in his breathing, his eyes nearly black, the movement of his throat.

"Do you know, sometimes," the Fiend of No Nation whispered, "I wonder if she needs me at all."

Ander pulled his gaze up. He didn't need to look further down at Samaren's body. The rest was obvious, really. Did I ever - ? It was strange that he couldn't recall. Such a powerful, mortifying thing.

Or perhaps, watching the Land's Own and her man, her monster, perhaps he was better off forgetting.