Beneath Shadows and Secrets

♔ 𝕾𝔦𝔵𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫 ♔

Yes I know its Sunday and there's no upload scheduled but whose gonna stop me???

♔ 𝔑𝔦𝔯𝔞 ♔

For the following days, I do little else than spend my mornings in the company of Ryke with warm breakfast and pleasant intentions. Then, I waste my afternoons sat in the garden until black mottles the blue of the sky, and I am forced to return inside to avoid the cold. There, I eat a warm dinner in the company of no one but myself and take myself to bed after bathing.

The routine is monotonous, but I enjoy it. It is refreshing to have the choice to do nothing, rather than have it be imposed upon you. Though, as I continue to indulge on the many serving of food that I am brought each day, both my mind and body begin to itch with the need for something more, energy restored. I do find myself missing some qualities I was made to abandon before Zaire took my human life.

Despite the deluded reasoning behind my training, my muscles seem to nag for the stances I became so familiar with. I was becoming increasingly skilful at swordplay, and it feels lonely to have not felt the thrill of victory burn through my blood. Ezekiel taught me to wield the weapon, and Cenred taught me to dance with it. To no longer have hours of training, to not have a sword sheathed at my back or my waist – I miss it.

However pointless it was, I miss too, traipsing through the woodlands with Ezekiel. My hand yearns to flex around the grip of a bow, my fingers flicker to loose an arrow. Even my breathing – as I walk the garden, I find that I have begun, as I once did before, to match my breaths with each soft footfall.

More than anything, no matter the distress it has brought me, I miss having my dagger at my side. The Pario Telum may have been forged by the Fae, embedded with a magic that can take and create, but without it I feel as though I am short a limb. Still now, when I hear a creak of noise, my hand shoots to my waist, where it once sat. The ghost of it is heavy, only reminding me of its absence. For a moment, Zaire tarnished my trust in the weapon. Now, it does not matter, for it was mine to have. A gift from my father, which saved my life, and my families, several times over. There hangs an odd sense of vulnerability around me without it, to say it is the cause of all this change.

Some part of me can recognise that I do not need a weapon here. Dagger, or sword, or bow. By my choice, or theirs, I have not seen any member of this Court, aside from Ryke and Inet. The latter acts as though she does not see me at all. She brings food and clothes in silence and clears what is already empty and worn in silence too. That is fine with me. I do not wish to befriend her either.

Libitina, I have not seen since she brought me here. A surprise, since I thought she would be giddy with the opportunity to impose some sort of retched torment upon me. She seems the kind to enjoy that. Tynan, following our terse conversation in the garden on my first day in the Night Court, has remained at a considerable distance. Occasionally, I see the flash of wings in the sky when I look from my window. They are gone within a blink, and I forget about them a few seconds later. Then the High Lord, who departed from my room with a sour expression, has not returned to pester me since.

Their absence from my presence during my stay here is well received. I do not wish to suffer their company. Despite such displays of generosity and freedom, my trust is seldom. I find myself constantly ticking over their ulterior motives. Calix is conniving enough that he might just hope to lull me into a false sense of security, before he brings the wrath of Zaire or Riyan down upon me. He could even be waiting till it is safe to kill me himself. Rid this Realm, the Earth, of the made Fae that homes the power of six. He knows – Ryke has told as much – and must be somewhat concerned by the revelation, for my lessons with the warlock have extended from two hours, to four. I am sure Ryke tells him, as he continues to tell me also, that there is little that can be done until I come to 'accept myself'. A term which I am quick becoming tired of hearing.