Heirs of the Gods

Ch 47: Never know

THIS IS A CHANGE OF POV! HEADS UP TO AVOID CONFUSION!

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Aedion was having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

It was a small collection of unfortunate events that individually wouldn't have amounted to much more than an inconvenience, but together, they'd melded to create what was surely some divine punishment for some bad deed he'd done.

It was hard to tell what that might be. Aedion had done plenty of things the Gods would frown upon and deem worthy of smiting him for.

First on his little list of cosmic punishments, he'd woken up on the wrong foot. Quite literally. Somehow, he'd overslept and in his haste to dress quickly, he'd yanked on his shoes. The horrible sound of ripping stitches was soon followed by a broken pair of boots. His favourite pair.

Now, that only might have been only a mild inconvenience. He could buy another pair, after all, but in hindsight, Aedion thought it was a foreshadowing of his day. Following that event, he'd promptly scalded his tongue on tea, tripped against one of the stupid statues lining the hallways and he'd lost a jousting match against Valren, all because he'd been staring at Ella. Valren, of course, hadn't missed the opportunity to rib the hell out of him for this.

As far as activities went, Aedion had been roped into attending what was possibly the most tedious meeting with the Lords of Gerrathea. Six hours of mind-numbing monologuing Lords, expressing why they absolutely needed more gold from the Kingdom treasury; citizen needs and war costs be damned, of course. Tone-deaf was an understatement.

Aedion, as luck would have it, had been sandwiched between the most charming companions. Lord Gearoid--an old man who tended to fall asleep most meetings and snore like a bear, leaning and pawing on whoever was next to him--and Lord Nevyn, who had the lovely little quirk of spitting more than a frying pan whenever he spoke. By the end of the meeting, Aedion had been spat on more than a public street, and he was sure he'd developed a mild tick of some sort, from all the times his eye twitched whenever he had to push a snoring Lord Gearoid away from him.

All's not lost, he'd told himself. There was no need to let a couple of bad events sour his day. He could perfectly turn it around. For a moment, he'd even believed it. Valren and Blaise's antics had managed to make him laugh a bit, and he'd even found himself unwinding.

Of course, he was wrong. As established, the Gods were out to get him. Something about punishment for his actions. Maybe it was all those times he'd made blasphemous jokes in poor taste.

However shitty his day had been, it was all jolly in comparison to what followed. Foolishly, he'd decided to go up to Ella's room. In a bit of a better mood, he'd wanted to share the twin's squabble with her. Mostly, he'd wanted an excuse to be by her side. Much as he'd never admit it out loud, sitting in that quiet, fire-warmed room as they each did their work was usually the highlight of his day. Which was sad, really, given that it clearly wasn't how she felt.

No, if Aedion had been expecting to walk in there and spend a nice, quiet evening, he'd been sorely mistaken. What did he find instead? That scruffy, oafish brute from Cereas. Just the cherry on top of the steaming pile of horseshit that was his day.

And he'd been so smug about it, too. So damn smug. "We're busy", he'd said, and Aedion had to leave before his desire to gut him like a pig won out. Just the sight of his hands on her had been enough to make him dizzy with hate. Enough hate that it was hard to breathe.

The worst part was that Aedion knew he had no actual right to be upset. How could he? She wasn't his. She could do as she damn pleased, even if it made Aedion want to burn something down. Preferably that stupid wanker.