Wylerra 100 years ago
Aldeheid twisted his earring as he stared out the window opposite the alcove. The earring she gave him. Part of him wanted to rip it from his ear. He didn't deserve to wear it. Not after... the incident.
A month had passed since then. Yet Amalie's unmoving body, deathly pale face and lifeless eyes still haunted him, as though her image was imprinted on the back of his eyelids.
He'd retreated inward, like a turtle hiding from a shark. But the predator he hid from was one he couldn't escape, no matter how long he cowered in his shell. No matter how much he denied its presence.
Aldeheid didn't want to accept that Amalie was gone. He'd seen the servants wash and dress her body. He'd seen said body go up in flames, and watched the frigid winds of the tundra snatch the ashes away. Some of those ashes had been on a shelf in his room, until he'd screamed at the servants to remove it.
Now he found himself at an impasse. He wanted stay in his little shell of ignorance, hoping that - by some miracle - he'd wake up and realize it was a nightmare. Amalie would be asleep beside him, her hair tousled and mouth parted as she slept soundly. Everything would be fine.
But his mind rejected such fantasies and screamed at him to accept the truth. Accept the he'd killed her – the only woman he'd ever loved. It was almost poetic. They'd been making plans for their life together as magician and cape. And, just like that, it was all over. Amalie was but a testament to the fickleness of life. And he was a murderer.
Since that day, he spent his time wandering the castle halls, feeling less like a man and more like an apparition. He'd walk up and down random halls, up and down random stairways, putting one foot in front of the other until he eventually collapsed. Then he'd drag himself into an alcove to sit and stare into nothingness.
"Al, I found you!"
He turned his head at the sound of Wenry's voice, but said nothing.
She hopped up onto the chair next to him, her blonde ponytails bouncing with the motion. With her frilly dress flared out around her, she looked like a cherub atop a fluffy cloud.
"I picked this for you," she said, holding out a winterbloom. Its stiff, white petals were tinged purple around the edges. "I blushed it for you."
Aldeheid didn't realize he'd been staring at it for too long until Wenry took his hand and placed the flower in it.
"Iyari and I went to take some to the Temple for Amalie. Maybe you can come with us next time?" She looked up at him expectantly, but he had no answer for her. "Iyari told me that Amalie is in a better place, and that we'll get to see her again some day. That made me feel a little better."
Aldeheid shrugged a shoulder. The Queen had tried to offer him the same comfort. But it had done nothing to comfort him. All the condolences and pity he'd received sounded patronizing to his ears.
"Oh! I almost forgot. Baba..." Wenry winced as though recalling some painful memory. "I mean his Highness wants you to come to lunch."
Aldeheid grimaced. He had no interest in food and only ate because he was forced to. The servants would bring his meals and refuse to leave -- on the Queen's orders -- until he ate every last morsel.
"Please, Al." Wenry pouted and drew her brows in tight. "If you don't come he'll get angry. He told me not to come back without you. I don't want him to yell at me again."
Why couldn't he grieve in peace? Staying in the alcove meant that Wenry would be subjected to the King's ire, but he had little interest in sitting through a meal with his family.
"Alright," he conceded, and tucked the flower in his pocket. He was weak, and weary, and wanted nothing more than to retreat to his bed. But the thought of Baldavin snapping at Wenry again -- or worse, hitting her -- made his stomach heavy.
Aldeheid didn't bother going back his room to change into proper attire, or do something with the overgrown curls atop his head.
Together he and Wenry walked the castle's halls to the main dining hall. Everyone was already gathered there, along with two faces he hadn't seen in a while – the High Priestess and her apprentice. Aldeheid had to suppress a groan. It was bad enough that he had to sit through lunch with his family, but he also had to put on a face for guests too. And the latter of those two guests was sitting in Amalie's seat.
"Baba, I brought Aldeheid!" Wenry announced as they walked in. Her grin of excitement quickly changed into a look of horror as the King gave a glare that could slice through stone. She retreated behind Aldeheid before mumbling an apology.
"Wenry, why don't you come sit with us?" Jetei asked, pulling out a chair beside him. He gave the little girl a warm smile, a dimple lighting on his tawny cheek.
Aldeheid ushered her forward before taking his own seat. Jayer gave him a sidelong stare while his cape helped Wenry into her chair, scooting protectively towards her.
"Finally leaving your nest of mourning to mingle with us plebeians, hm?" Jayer asked, his lips tipping into a snide smile. "Who would've thought that the warmth of a woman's thighs was all it would take for you to lose your sensibilities."
Aldeheid didn't have the energy to dignify Jayer's jeers. Besides, if Jetei had died, Jayer would've been distraught enough to throw himself into the Tundra's Embrace.
"Aldeheid," the King said, drawing his attention to the head of the table. "It's nice you've finally remembered you have family."
He moved his weary gaze from the King to the empty plate in front of him.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Baldavin slammed his first on the table, sending a tremor down its length. When Aldeheid did as he said, he continued. "You have had more than enough time to mourn. Now get yourself in order. Wyllera's affairs will not wait for you to stop feeling sorry for yourself."
Aldeheid winced but said nothing in return.
"Ah, Baldavin don't be so hard on the Sahn Cera," the High Priestess said. "The death of a love is a heavy burden."
Baldavin sniffed in the most unkingly fashion. "The fact that the trial failed proves that she was never worthy of him. One of them is already bonded to a worthless cape, we didn't need another sullying our castle walls."
Jayer looked just about ready to throttle the King, but the Queen spoke before he could take such rash action. "Must you speak so ill of the dead?"
Aldeheid shot up from his chair so fast that it crashed to the ground hard enough for the wood to splinter. "Amalie is not dead!" he screamed, fisting his hands at his sides.
Baldavin's face was impassive, but there was anger simmering in his eyes. "Control yourself." His voice was low, but held an edge that could cleave a weaker man in two. He moved his gaze from Aldeheid to Iyari, before saying, "I blame you. You've spoiled him." He picked a bell from beside his plate and rang for the servants to bring in their meal.
Aldeheid righted his chair and sat down, burying his face in his hands. He wanted to retreat from the room, go back to wandering the castle. Or to his bed. Shut himself away from everything and everyone.
The room burst into a flurry activity as servants bustled around with platters of food and bottles of wine. Some of it landed in front of Aldeheid even though he hadn't asked for any. When he looked up, he caught the Queen watching him from her seat. Her diamond-like eyes held a mixture of pity and concern that made him look away.
"Aldeheid?" The girl sitting across the table was toying with her hair and peeking up at him from beneath her lashes. When he looked at her, she ducked her head and blushed. He hadn't had any interactions with the High Priestess' apprentice, only glimpsed her at some gatherings. Yet here she was, sitting n the seat that Amalie normally occupied.
"I uh. . . h-how are you?" she asked, cutting into his thoughts.
Tired. Lonely. Stressed. Forlorn. He kept those thoughts to himself. "I've been better."
"I see..." She cleared her throat. "Sorry about my bad manners. I'm Catarina, Priestess Miria's apprentice."
Aldeheid wasn't really in the mood for talk, but she was only trying to be nice. "It's nice to meet you," His hand nearly engulfed hers as he took it, and he noted the pure swirling marks standing out against her pale skin.
An unbonded cape. Here. Now. In Amalie's seat. He glanced over at the king, who was deep in political discourse with the Priestess. She had been hanging around the castle more and more within the last few years, but he had no idea why.
"So why are you here?" he asked Catarina.
"The king invited us," she replied a little too quickly, and Jayer gave a chuckle that made her face turn a brilliant shade of red.
Aldeheid was silent for the rest of the meal. He stuffed morsels of food in his mouth, not noticing or caring how any of it tasted. It was either eat, or be lectured by the Queen, and he didn't want to be bothered after this painful lunch ended. And end it did, after an hour more of political talk, and the background noise of Jetei doting over Wenry.
"It was nice meeting you Aldeheid." Catarina gave him a smile and wave before leaving with the High Priestess.
"Aldeheid," the King began, leveling him with an icy gaze. "You will have a cape trial with Catarina in a fortnight's time."
Aldeheid's blood heated to a simmer, and he was sure the anger bled into his face. "I don't—"
"Enough. Of. Your. Foolishness." Baldavin cut the air with his hand. "This behaviour is beneath you. Amaliie is dead. Everyone else has moved on and it's past time you caught up. From now until your cape trial, you will be doing spell theory for eight hours per day. No excuses. And cut your hair," he added, leering at Aldeheid's unkempt curls. "It's a mess."
Aldeheid bit his tongue. Arguing with the king would get him nowhere. Baldavin's word was law, and those who disobeyed faced a wrath crueler than the tundra.
"Not so nice being on the receiving end of that hm?" Jayer swirled the last of his wine around in his glass.
He rubbed his face and looked at Jayer through his fingers. "What's really going on here? I know you know."
"Perhaps if you'd crawled out that bed of yours sooner, I wouldn't have to explain this to you." He tilted his head. "But, since I'm feeling generous, here's a hint. Madam High Priestess has been trying to muscle her way into political spotlight for years."
Aldeheid grimaced, the pieces finally falling into place in his head. "And with her apprentice as the future Queen she'd have a better chance at that."
"It would certainly give her an excuse to flit around here like the buzzing pestilence she is. The last thing the Council needs is a woman of the cloth." His lips curled in disgust.
And the last thing Aldeheid needed was a cape he didn't love. A cape who wasn't Amalie.