Elden Lord

Chapter 4 - The Fingers and An Oath

''It has been,'' Talos began wistfully, ''a long, long time since I've done this,'' he sounded different, like he was somewhere else. There was a note of mixed emotions in his voice, but he controlled it well enough that she couldn't map it completely. Longing was the dominant note. ''I used to do this for my daughter, you know? She would come home with her brothers, all covered in dirt and scrapes. All three would have big, beaming smiles when they greeted me. Well, that was until my wife saw them. Then I'd have to pretend to be angry at them and scold them for getting dirty,'' he gave a small laugh, made tinny by his helm. ''Of course, they knew I didn't mind so long as they were safe. My boys, little rascals, they knew I let them get away with too much. So while they were getting an earful from their mother, I would brush the dirt and twigs from my girl's hair. Long and black as raven feathers, just like her mother's.''

As Millicent listened, she could hear the subtle pain laced within each word. She didn't know why he was telling her all of this. Was he even talking to her, or was he lost in memory? She wanted to hear more. It was an alien concept to her, to imagine a father doing this for his daughter. Gowry never did anything of the sort of her or her sisters. Just enough to keep them alive. That was his way. The rest of his nurturing was focused on turning them into fighters and teaching them sorcery and the means to survive. There was a stretch of silence before Millicent spoke.

''What was her name, Talos?'' she asked hesitantly. It was clear whatever memory he was recalling was bitter-sweet. She spoke hurriedly, fearing she'd upset him, ''You needn't answer if you do not wish to, I am just-''

''It's fine. It's in the past now. I have...'' he paused, ''…I have made peace. Her name was Abella. She was the sweetest little girl in my homeland. The spitting image of her mother. Little imp at the best of times, but I'm sure that's my fault,'' he chuckled. He didn't know why he was being so candid. Something about this situation just seemed to spur some long-buried paternal instinct in him into action. Millicent was a confused young woman, set upon by a cosmic disease that she didn't understand. She grew up in possibly the worst place a child could with a father that didn't seem interested in her as a daughter or a person, but as a placeholder for something else.

Talos had felt the taint of the Scarlet Rot on Gowry, too. It was only because that man had a use that he hadn't cut the bastard in half already. None of her sisters were present, and if his intuition was correct, they hadn't been for a long time. He knew she was scared, despite her impressive willpower. Right now, she was alone in the world. Millicent needed someone. Recalling how calmly Gowry told him about Millicent, it was like he were describing a stranger, not someone he claimed was his daughter.

She didn't ask anything else. She counted herself lucky that she hadn't trod any subjects that were too sore. Millicent wondered how it would have been, having a father like that. Having one that truly cared. There was always a clinical, detached way Gowry approached caring for them. In particular, he'd sing her praises, talking about her potential and 'blooming' into something great, but even that felt like it wasn't necessarily for her. Not Millicent, but something wearing Millicent's face. Nothing like what she was experiencing now.

''Tied back?'' Talos suddenly asked. It took a moment for her to process the question.

''O-oh, yes. Please,'' she stammered, ''I have a spare hair tie,'' she held out her arm, showing him a thin leather cord tied around her wrist. Talos undid the small knot and took it, gently gathered her hair and lightly pulled into shape before tying the leather cord close to her scalp, forming a ponytail. He moved over to her front to inspect his work.

''Much better,'' he said. The Rot had tried to steal her looks from her, evidenced by the splotches of white scarring spread out across her face. Still, he couldn't help but make a fuss when he saw some dried blood and dirt on her cheek. He reached out and rubbed it away with his thumb. Millicent didn't move or protest, merely sitting still as her cheeks coloured again. ''Pretty as a painting,'' he stood and offered a hand. Millicent took it without hesitation this time and carefully stood, testing her balance and the strength in her legs. Satisfied that she wouldn't fall, she offered a grateful smile to Talos.