Liraeth kept talking.

He just couldn't stop himself as he watched the expression of lost helplessness and desperation settle over Tenth's face. The Knight's eyes searched his own looking for something that Liraeth could not give him. And so he just kept talking, words falling out of his mouth as he continued to try and explain, apologise, comfort, reassure. Surely there must be some combination of sounds that he could produce that would make that expression go away. 

"I'm sorry Tenth, I really am, I know this must be a lot to take in, and you're doing really well, and I'm sorry that I didn't say anything sooner but just I wanted to be sure that I was right, and I wanted to make sure that you were well enough to understand before I sai-"

The Knight cut him off with a protestation that he had wanted to follow the orders that had been forced upon him. But he sounded so unsure of himself that it came across as more of question than a statement of fact. He was trembling again, and there was nothing more that liraeth wanted to do than hold him and tell him everything would be alright. Liraeth could see what was happening, the foundations of the world that Tenth knew were collapsing beneath him, leaving him to question everything that he knew about his life.

Liraeth had been there before.

He thought back to that night in the infirmary when they had told him that [i]he[/i] was gone.

The way the walls had closed in around him, the bed felt like it was sinking into the floor, his world turning into a black pit from which there was no escape. He had tried to scale the walls of that utter disbelief and despair with countless rationalisations, justifications, and excuses. That what they told him was not, could not be true, that they were mistaken, that they lying to him, that despite all their wisdom and power they had been tricked, deceived, hoodwinked, bamboozled, outwitted, and hornswoggled.

"Maybe so...." He could feel his hand moving to the familiar spot on his upper right arm, coming to rest over the faded scar there. Retracing the mark that had been left him that night. Burned into him, with flame hotter than any natural fire.

He returned to the present, forced himself back into this moment, where he was needed. A different night, a different fire, a different companion. One who was now pleading with Liraeth to order him to hurt himself. It was not a good idea, Liraeth knew he was right about the Geas, knew that this would only lead the already suffering knight to further harm yet still.

"Are you sure? I don't think... I don't know if that is a good idea, Tenth."

And still. He hadn't stopped trying to rationalised what happened until they showed Liraeth all that was left of [i]him[/i] after that night. It was only then, that he had been able to accept what had happened, let the world he had built around him come crashing down and finally try to build something new. He had needed to see the proof with his own two eyes, only then had he been able to move past it. And even then... never completely.

Perhaps it was the same with this poor, wounded, Knight.

When he finally spoke again the words were small, quiet, soft. He kept his eyes focused on the Knight, the firelight making them shimmer in the darkness. Their blue and green depths were filled with an incalculable sorrow.

"Tenth... I order you to put your hand over the fire."