Helencia Castle, Lysithea
Three Days Later
Unnamed
Bright. Stung. The Child flinched as light penetrated the cool silent darkness that surrounded him. He turned away from the light, curling back into the darkness. Warm and soft... he was. Death... comfortable?
The Child thought about his life. The warmth and comfort he found in the shadows wrapped around him like a blanket, protecting him. It was different from the dank darkness of the cellar. In fact, it was different than any gloom the child had been forcibly trapped in—notably this time, he wasn't trapped. There were no rats biting him, nor cold that shook every inch of his body. The boy had always been afraid of the dark, but there was nothing to be afraid of here. The darkness almost seemed like a friend.
Suddenly, another beam of light shot onto the child's face. White brightness flooded his vision. And his thoughts were slowly fading away into a terrifying nothingness. Was this death? Was this life? Coherent thoughts dulled into the white glare.
Abruptly, a spot of darkness clouded the blinding light. A dark blur stood in front of him. The child blinked. Once. Twice. A hand was stretched towards him. He couldn't make out any features, only a shadowed figure.
He started at the hand. It didn't move, but remained the only thing in his line of sight other than white blurriness. The hand was still, figures reaching towards him, not twitching or insistent in any way. Just waiting. Waiting for him to make the decision. The child paused and tried to think.
He could stay here. In the warm brightness, free of pain, and let his mind melt into his surrounding warm numbness. Or... he could follow this figure. Follow the dark being forward to a place he knew nothing about, and was totally unprepared for.
The child stared at the hand, and uncertainty placed his palm in the larger one. Warm fingers curled around his small hand, and ever so gently pulled him to standing. He hadn't even realized he was sitting.
The shadowed figure's touch was soft and light, but something felt so very familiar... It was as if he knew the shadowed being well. But the child knew he died alone, alone except for the wealthy older man that died alongside him. Was it his ghost?
The figure began to walk forward, and the child stumbled. He couldn't see. The hand holding his squeezed warmly, and his other hand braced himself on their shadowed arm. Despite holding the dark being, the boy couldn't make out any more than its silhouette.
Was the figure related to the older man who died aside him? Was it his ghost? The child's mind wondered and wandered as he walked side by side, elbow to elbow with the larger dark being, to places he didn't know.
And then he awoke. Here. In this room...
His heavy lids slowly opened. But the dark being, the shadowed figure was gone. And instead of darkness, there was light. Not like the all encompassing white light from before that consumed his very being, but rather a light that burned his eyes.
No. Why light? Why no dark? The child mused, his vision blurring. He yearned for that shadowed figure to come back. Suddenly, everything came into focus. The child found himself staring at... the sky?
No. Different. The boy concluded. Sky not like forest. Light... blue... shiny. The child reached a hand up and rubbed his eyes, sitting up a bit. In room... shiny, fancy. Here go die? The child ran his fingers over the length of his arm, which was covered with an elaborately trimmed soft white cotton nightgown. Fabric. Soft. Not hurt.
Looking around, the Child stared back down at his hands. He traced the familiar scars that cut across his palms. He slowly moved each of his limbs. No pain? light???
The sensation of a healed body, one that is as without aches and pains was noticeably foreign. The Child's body felt immensely lighter, stronger, healthier. The boy pushed himself up to sitting with his arms, stunned at how easily he could do so. He remembered the pain of his flesh cleaving apart, and that strangely comforting sinking feeling as the world went dark.
But as his eyes adjusted to the light of the room, the Child felt unease wash over him in a cool wave. It...bright...shiny...not dirty...heaven? the Child whispered inaudibly, unable to find the words to describe his surroundings.
After living in a damp, dinghy and dark cellar for his entire life, seeing such beauty, such luxury was so foreign the child felt guilty and jubilant. He wished fervently that he would be able to enjoy this illusion for a few more minutes, before being dragged into the realities of his life.
The King's chambers were nothing short of magnificent. Across the ceiling, defined by a frame of crown moulding etched with gold was a beautiful painted sky complete with birds and a variety of butterflies, bees and dragonflies. The walls had beautiful painted murals of gardens, beaches, and mountains spotted with animals and botany, representing all the beauty of Lysithea. Gold etching surrounded each mural like an opulent frame. Mirrors and windows alternate and the murals weaving alongside them. As per most vampyr buildings, the walls were quite well insulated in the palace to account for the vampyr's hearing capabilities.
The Child shivered as his leg brushed against the coverette. It's satiny softness glided across the skin like water. The bed was dressed in crisp white sheets, topped with a warm duvet embroidered with small daffodils entwined in an elaborate pattern. The four poster bed was carved and completed with an elaborate carved top which sat over the bed like a crown. The inlaid wood floor near the bed was covered with a thick decorative rug, on which a pair of large embroidered slippers sat.
The Child stared down at what was clearly a pair of adult's slippers. This was all surreal for him. Believing this was some sort of illusion, the child immediately went to stand, accidentally tangling his right foot in the sheets, and tumbling over the side of the bed onto the floor. The Child rubbed his elbow from where he hit it, wincing at the flash of pain, which had shockingly vanished instantly.
Pain...if dream...no pain...so, the Child wondered.
The Child lifted the smooth white cottony fabric which shrouded his body and stood completely stunned. There was not even a scar from where he had...
Slowly finding his footing, the boy stumbled over to one of the tables, palms pressing against the ornate wood top. He felt the cool sensation etch into his fingers, and holding his breath, looked up.
He... he was different. The black uneven hair looked shinier and thicker. His shoulders and arms had lost their skeletal shape, and were cushioned with very slight muscles. Pulling down the front of the white gown, the child saw that the scars were absent. For the first time in the Child's life, he wasn't disgusted by his body. It felt right. And the itchy and achy feeling that constantly overwhelmed him the few times he saw his appearance or thought of it, was gone.
He reached a hand up to touch his face as his eyes filled with tears. The same face stared back at him, although it had lost its unnatural and ghostly thinness. He grazed his fingers over the uneven skin. Why was he still monstrous, if everything else had been fixed.
The Child turned away from his reflection, tears flowing. It was cruelty... to show him what he could be, if only without his deformity. If only he could fix it. It's permanence reminded him of the inevitability of his life—he would always be a monster, an outcast and terror to all who saw him.
He padded across the room, feeling the sharp coolness of the floors against his toes. Too timid to call out, he slowly peeked outside of the room. Voices pricked his ears. But he saw nothing, so how could he?
Following the voices down the hall, he gazed at the elaborate paintings and furniture that lined the narrow pathway. The ornate surroundings were both beautiful and haunting. Where he was?
Entering the room where the voices came from, he saw three figures seated around a table, scrolls and papers spilling across the tabletop before them.
"Your majesty! You have awoken!" One of the figures called out surprised. Majesty?
The Child glanced behind him, confused. "Where?" he asked softly, very confused and quite frightened.
"Hello. My apologies for startling you. Right now, you are in Helencia Castle, still in Lamia." Aspen said softly and slowly. The Child looked even more confused, but stepped further into the room. The figures had gentle smiles, and looked at him without the disgust he was familiar seeing in other's faces.
"You may sit, if you would like?" Cyan asked, sliding the vacant chair beside him out a bit. The boy hesitated, timidly approaching the seat. He placed his palm on the embroidered fabric tentatively. "It's okay can," Damian assured warmly. Slowly, the child sat down.
Aspen smiled. "I'm sure you must be quite confused, are you not? We can answer your questions, but first I must ask; do you feel alright?" The boy looked at Aspen strangely, before nodding. The three men smiled, introducing themselves slowly. Afterward, they paused to give the child a moment.
"Would you like anything to eat?" Cyan asked tentatively, dropping the usual form of address in order to avoid making the little king uncomfortable. The young child nodded softly, but didn't move. Damian wasn't sure what the child would like, so he ended up placing small amounts of everything on a plate, and setting it down in front of the child. The young boy stared at the plate for a minute. "Please, go ahead" Aspen prompted, lifting his silverware and gently biting into a pastry. Cyan flicked his napkin into his lap and took a deep sip of sanguis.
The boy didn't bother with cutlery or anything. He felt the emptiness in his stomach and was incredibly hungry. Moving quickly so the food wasn't taken from him, he hunched over the plate and began shoveling food into his mouth with his hands. His shoulders shook as he crammed food in thick and fast, devouring a meal that would have taken hours to prepare in less than five minutes. After he had finished, he licked the remnants of the food off his fingers. When he was finished, he looked up to see the men dressed in wealthy clothing with gold jewels and velvet material staring at him, caught off guard but smiling. He quickly lowered his head again in shame.
Cyan looked at him warmly, his eyes soft, "What is your name, young master?" He asked gently as the boy remained silent. Cyan wondered if the boy could speak. The way he had hunched and devoured his food startled the three of them. It was practically feral in a way. He looked uneasy and afraid. "We won't hurt you" Damian offered, uncertain as to how to help in this situation. Aspen and Cyan sighed. "I doubt that will be very reassuring as it stands," Aspen admitted.
"Monster," the boy answered, his voice so raspy it was barely audible. The words sounding strange on his tongue. Aspen, Cyan and Damian glanced at him, not quite understanding exactly what he was trying to convey. "Would you mind repeating that?" Cyan asked softly. "Monster, name." the boy answered, instantly looking down. The three men scrunched their eyes in silent fury.
"Do... do you remember anything that has passed?" Damian asked slowly. There was a pause, and then the boy nodded. He looked down. "When you desire to share the circumstances, any of us would be grateful to hear of it," Cyan added. It was a lot for a fledgling to handle all at one. Not only the sensation of being in a turned body—with all the enhanced sense that provided, but the trauma of his past that lingered within him.
"Away. Ran," the child answered, his words barely more than a whisperer. "Pain. Always. Wish die."
He was answered with silence. None of the three men deigned to speak, rage boiling in them at the circumstances which must have caused this child to crave death. None of them could imagine what undeniable horrors this child had seen. Aspen, Damian and Cyan exchanged a glance. "What's the first thing you remember?" Cyan gently asked. "Family? Friends? Your home?"
"Dark room" the child answered. It was clear he had been severely abused—the extent of which they still had to discover. Aspen made a mental note to hire a private team to assist the little king's mental state.
Aspen smiled softly. "Is Monster the closest thing to a name you know?" He inquired, being very careful to speak softly in order to not scare the boy. The child nodded, blinking his beautiful sapphire eyes. Aspen swallowed the rage inside of him. It would do no good to be wrathful now. The Regent drummed his fingers on his chin, deep in thought. Cyan and Damian stared at him in confusion. "I don't like that term. I think it's cruel and doesn't suit you. Is it okay if I give you a real name?" He asked tepidly. To his surprise, the boy looked up nodding eagerly.
"Face deformed. Name... monster," he supplied as an explanation.
The child, their king, didn't have a name. He wasn't given the basic recognition of himself as a living being. The pain the boy harboured internally, the three of them knew it could never be extinguished. What he needed now was to be taught how to live.
Aspen slowly stepped towards the chair the boy was in, kneeling. He slowly and carefully placed his hand atop the child's, gaging his comfort level. The boy flinched and Aspen froze, making no sudden movements. After a while, the child relaxed more. "You are no monster. Those who have tortured you are the monstrous beings," Aspen asserted, looking deeply into the boy's deep blue eyes.
"You are wanted here. You can have a life here, a family. I promise, you will be loved." The regent vowed. The boy's eyes widened, disbelief flickering in his gaze.
Cyan smiled warmly. "Our paths are sewn together by love and bonds—which surpass blood. Or as the humans say, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Families are formed, not always born."
Humans.
The Child missed the distinction, too caught up trying to comprehend the meaning of Damian's words.
Damian studied the child. He needed a name, more than the terrorizing title that was forced upon him. "You deserve a name, if you would like one."
The child looked up at the man, hopeful. He breathed in deeply. "Yes." He said pleadingly. Damian smiled, his eyes watering. "I had a different name once. But one must live as themselves, not merely as others believe them to be."
His gaze softened. "Your eyes remind me of twilight. Of Erebus, the human deity of darkness. And that is what I offer you. Erebus."
The child smiled, tears slowly pooling in the corner of his eyes. They slowly fell down his face as he laughed joyfully. "Me. Name. Erebus." He declared proudly. "Thank you," he whispered, touched.
He had a name. He had a name. He had a name. And it was not given by hatred, but by love.
Aspen beamed up at him. "Erebus," he said, testing out the new name. "There is more to life than you have seen. And I vow we will show it to you."