Perfectionist thinking about the one mistake she made

She had opened the old wooden doors, expecting to find the Jarl sitting on the layers of furs by his low table .Yet what she had come to witness was the Jarl, his son and one of the Jarl's men, fighting against a group of four, one of them a man whom they knew had desires to usurp the Jarl's hall.  

Without a moment of hesitation, she had drawn out her sword and rushed forth to support the Jarl, attacking his attacker from behind. It was an easy thrust and the man fell soon limp on the floor, resting in a growing pool of his red blood - stabbed in the back, such a fitting fate for a traitor. It was when Hildey was about to turn, when she heard another loud 'thud', followed by a clatter of metal hitting against the floor - and then an ever so brief moment of silence which somehow seemed to last forever. A haunting chill moved through her bones, and before she had turned fully to witness the sight - she knew Bjargarr had died.  

((Decided to make more scene type of image, because our yesterday's RP was in such a pretty spot in the forest...and because I had no energy to properly write about Hildey's past. Picture felt easier path to depict her inner conflicts about it.))