The God's Game

Hair

Cousin, did you see the ghost of someone you killed because you owed them money?

Aithan's face remained passive as always, but there seemed to be a sparkle of mischief dancing in those amber eyes as he regarded the younger man.

He was clad in his customery black,regal attire. His red hair was neatly tied with a black velvet ribbon, and he adorned multiple glinting accessories, which added to his already dashing appearance.

Good sir, didn't you just slay a giant beast? Can you at least look a little roughed up? Why must you seem so badass 24/7?

"I'll ask someone to come clean this up," he said, completely ignoring the overdramatic reaction from Wolfram.

River bowed low in heart felt gratitude. "Thank you for your assistance today. We owe our lives to you, My Lord."

His warm eyes regarded River over the silver rims of his glasses. "You should have called for me."

River glared at Wolfram over his shoulder. "Something stopped me from doing so, Lord Aithan," he said once more. "My apologies; I'll explain."

"His majesty wishes to see you," he announced, not sparing a glance at the petrified boy at the table.

"Ill go at once," River bowed awkwardly, trying to prevent his shirt from riding scandolously up his back.

Sir, why must you put my dignity in peril like this? Can you see how ridiculous I look, or do you need to change your lenses?

But Aithan seemed quite pleased with his choice of outfit for the younger boy. He nodded to himself, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Your hair looks rather messy," he commented after a long silence.

Brother ! Cousin ! Does your glasses sit on your nose just for decoration ? How is my hair the most pressing issue here?

Aithan sauntered into the cabin, bending slightly to avoid banging his head on the door frame. He silently handed the pink-folded fan to Wolfram, who accepted it with trembling hands.

He produced a wooden comb from a inside his jacket and loosened River's long braid. The curtain of soft,jet black hair fell around his face. Aithan carelessly combed through his inky hair a couple times and stepped back to observe his earnest work.

"That's better," he declared.

Put my hair back in a braid before I punch a hole in the hull, brother!!!

He was sure that he looked like a mad woman now, with his hair falling over his shoulders and back. He hated having his hair loose because it always got in the way of his work, got stuck in between everything, and made his neck itchy and sweaty.

But he couldn't exactly say no to Aithan, so he sighed and obediently stuffed the ribbon into his pocket.

River followed Aithan out of the cabin, leaving a very dumbstruck Wolfrm behind, who was clutching on to the fan for his dear life.

* * * * *

By the time River reached Raven Alistair's cabin, he was starting to regret not putting his hair in a braid. Aithan and his crappy fashion sense, be damned.

The sea wind bullied him mercilessly, making his hair fly in all directions and, at times, slapping his face with it. He had only two hands, but there were three problems to deal with.

He was starting to suspect that Aithan was discreetly getting back at him for going to the West.

River had no idea what Raven Alistair wanted from him. He felt heavy in his heart and very bothered as he limped up the short flight of stairs leading to Raven's room. His knees ached, but he kept climbing until he faced the closed ebony door. His hand hovered over it for a minute, contemplating whether to knock or just turn back and run away.