Pushing all doctorly tasks aside to focus on family first, he hardly paid the faenix any mind when entering the room where the Queen awaited him. "Wylda, come quick. Jyosith is speaking nonsense and... I'm starting to believe him."
"What do you mean?" She forgot that the girl still had ears or the fact she was even there.
Charles shook his head. "Not here. Come with me."
Instead of healing in their private chambers, the King insisted on being in his office to put things in order in case that thing resurfaced from his son to finish the job. Charles, with Wylda in tow, opened the office doors to find his brother off the bed he had set up with IVs plugged into him.
Instead, he was at his desk with stacks of papers all over it in disarray.
"See." The doctor gestured and went over to clean up the mess at his healing station.
That left Wylda to see to it that her husband returned to bed for proper rest or else his wounds would take days to heal. She tenderly walked up to him, gazing at all the papers on his desk and wondering what spurred all of this.
Then she noticed the pattern. Torn out pages from archaic books and scribbles left by knowledge seekers, all regarding one thing. Black magic and blood sacrifice. Her heart leapt out of her chest and worry took ahold of her entire being.
"What are you up to now, my love?" She placed her hand on one page that had chalk drawings of sinister creatures, far worse than her son. To these beings he looked like a mouse.
The King held up a page and shook it in front of her. "I did this. I did this. Our son..." He shivered in remembrance, then quickly tossed more books and drawings her way. "I did this."
He kept repeating those words over and over. She had to walk away just to regain sanity.
"Is this what he's been saying all morning?"
Charles shook his head. "If only. He also seems to be confessing to some... Pretty deranged things. Did he ever tell you about our older brother?"
She shrugged, "Only bits and pieces, like stories of when the three of you were younger but never much of what happened."
"His earlier mumblings were about killing him. It sounded like an earnest confession. Now somehow it's related to your son, but I can't figure out what he's saying. I had hopes you'd be able to interrupt his madness."
"My husband did not murder-"
Charles placed a hand up. "It's Jyosith we're talking about here. Drop the facade. We both are fully aware he'd do anything to obtain power and ensure his survival."
She couldn't bring herself to argue against that. But still... His brother?
Keeping an open mind, she went back over to his desk and began looking at all the pages, trying to piece them together. Then she found a pertinent clue. One torn-out page had his own scribbles on it, she could identify his handwriting out of hundreds of others.
The page itself discussed blood sacrifice in deep lengths, mentioning that the one attempting it to garner power would need the assistance of a mage and a notable sacrifice. And on that page, her husband had long ago written a date and time, plus the words 'first born'.
She gripped the paper to her chest and shuttered. He couldn't... He wouldn't have.
Then she looked down to where he sat, head in his hands as shook his head, battling with regret. She was all too accustomed to that feeling. When she slammed the paper down in front of him, forcing him to look at it, he groaned and pushed himself away from her.
"What did you find?" Charles looked at the stone-faced Queen and knew it had to be something substantial.
"This. A page detailing blood sacrifices with his handwriting." She held it up, shouting the words into the back of her husband that dare not face her.
"And?" Charles pressed.
Since the doctor was too far across the room to read it, she had to do so aloud and her voice shook with rage.
"The very date I miscarried plus a time, precisely two minutes before I felt my unborn son slip out of me and bloody the sheets." The page fell from her hands when she released it, only to grip the back of her husband's shirt, pulling him around to face her. She screamed in his expressionless face, "You met with a mage! You carried out a blood sacrifice knowing it would target our baby. What would have been your firstborn!"
Charles fell back onto the hospital bed as further realization hit, "And that very night was the one our brother died. We thought it was in battle against a faenix... But he was a formidable warrior and the story never quite added up. Jyosith played it off so well, everyone pitied him for losing a brother and a son all in one night..."
Even with things becoming clear for both Charles and Wylda, they refused to fully believe it until they heard it come from his own lips. They stared at him expectantly.
The room fell silent. Only the drip of the IV could be heard. Only the stares of those he betrayed rang in his ears until he could no longer take it.
"It's true." His shoulders slumped, and he awaited whatever hits and slaps that his wife wanted to throw his way.
Except she backed up as Charles came into view. They both knew it'd hurt more if someone his size delivered the blows. Jyosith didn't even fight against it. He hadn't the strength, quite literally.
Once his face was bloodied enough for her liking and he began spitting up the blood pooling in his mouth, she called Charles off.
"Enough. Enough! Charles, that's..." One last hit and he stepped back, shaking his raw hand that likely had a few bones splintered now. "Hm. How odd. I don't even know what to say or what I can say. Did the council know?"
Jyosith shook his head, unable to speak through the pain. In a few hours he'd be fully healed and back to ruling Sepulchre. A King made by the blood of his firstborn.
Not if the council got involved...
"Wylda, don't. I know it's tempting but think about your son. He isn't ready for the throne. Hell, he's hardly ready for a wife! He's a kid with some hefty anger management issues and not a lot of self-control to wield the power he possesses. Give it some time before bringing this to the attention of the council and think extensively on what it will do to your family. In the meantime... I need a little light in my life to calm me."
"Where do you think you're going?" She snapped, needing him around just in case she felt like punishing Jyosith again. She watched him packing up his briefcase with all his tools, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.
"To the only thing in this castle worth a damn anymore."
He need not elaborate. Even Wylda felt the same deep within her heart about that girl. Even in her weakest moments, she'd never let it show. Not even now, when she craved a semblance of light to be set ablaze in her heart.
On his way back to where he left the girl, knowing the condition of her one leg, he thought to check her room in case someone helped her over there. What he found pained him.
There she was. Hobbling along the hallway like a child playing hopscotch. She leaned on the wall now and then for support and to regain balance, only to continue on as if nothing troubled her.
Did anything phase this girl? Did she have her own demons to face in her nightmares only to awake and find them staring all around her? Certainly, they were the ones stirring her nightmares at night and in her waking moments too.
Charles walked up beside her and offered his arm. "Need help, or should we both hop on one leg all the way across the castle together?"
That little quip made her smile, and it delighted him to see someone around here in high spirits despite everything. He wouldn't trouble her with the news he just uncovered, it'd only put her in danger.
"Didn't my son join you after speaking with Kaanan?"
When taking his arm, she paused to look up at him with a puzzled expression.
"I guess that's a no... I left him right there..." He pursed his lips. Surely Kaanan didn't drag him somewhere remote and toss him off a cliff, right? He shook that thought away. His nephew was nothing like his father, after all. "He must have gotten sidetracked. Never mind that, let's get you to your room so I can take a better look at that ankle."
She pointed to her knee and he laughed. "Ah yes, that too. What got into your head when you attacked a satyroid, of all creatures? That kick might have deterred a vampire on an off day, or at least a dhampir. But you practically kneed and kicked a sound, stone structure today, my dear. Tell me all about it while I patch you up."
Ele nodded and they got to her room just in time for the exhaustion to set in.
"And after I leave, get some sleep. I know it'll set you off schedule but a nap won't hurt. I... I'm sorry for last night." He finally mustered up the courage to acknowledge what he did. "That must have felt like being dragged to the depths of hell. Or worse. Just don't take it out on my son. He really likes you and I don't want to see him get hurt again."
Ele knew the story of his mother and her heart wept for them. She placed a hand on his and did all she could; she smiled to signify her forgiveness. When he brought a hand to his chin and motioned it forward, her language's sign as 'thank you', she gleamed to see him trying to learn.
"If you are to be my future daughter, I need to understand how you speak." He paused at her ankle and surveyed her body. "Why does that happen?"
She looked down at her skin to see the lustrous shine illuminating her in the room lit only by artificial bulbs. This glow came from within her soul since she hadn't sat in the sun for nearly an entire day.
"I like to think it stems from happiness." He produced his own explanation, unaware if any truth supported his theory but nevertheless happy to be in her presence.
Ele hoped Roman was as kind as his father. Even if he had half the warm and caring aura, she could be content for eternity.
Once bandaged up, they expressed their thanks through her hand language and he left to give her some much needed privacy. Ele relaxed into the comfort of her bed, realizing that it now had an imprint of her body from all the nights she's slept here.
This castle... Her home and prison.
How many nights had it been? She tried to think back on it but sleep compelled her to forget.
A gentle knock shook her from her half-resting state. Instead of getting up to open the door, she knocked back on her nightstand to signify her permission to enter. The person eased the door open slowly and her heart clenched just imagining what wild things she could be ripped from her room for now.
Then a hand shot out, holding a stunning bouquet full of all her hand-picked favorites from the garden. She knew who it was without him needing to take a further step through the door. He did so, peeking his head in with an apologetic look already present on his face.
Roman tiptoed in and quietly shut the door.
"I know you need sleep. I just couldn't see you earlier without bringing something to cheer you up. And... Nothing else suits you more than flowers."
He's right. She wasn't one for jewelry or sappy sonnets. Nature made her happy, and having a piece of that in her room brightened the space a bit more. That and the radiance now bouncing off her skin.
She sat up a little more, having sunk into the bed with pillows engulfing her petite frame.
"Beautiful." He murmured. "You're beautiful. I mean, your skin-" He rolled his eyes at himself for allowing his thoughts to manifest into words. "I'm sorry. I didn't wake you just to tease you. Just needed to see that you were alright for my own sanity."
Even as her eyelids weighed themselves down and became burdensome, she reached out to hold his hand and they locked eyes. Then he turned his palm upwards to reveal a folded piece of paper and a small pencil.
"Please tell me one thing, and I don't want you to sugarcoat it for me. Promise?"
She nodded and readied herself by placing the paper against the nightstand to write better upon it.
He took a deep breath, "What really happened last night?"