STORIES WERE TERRIBLE THINGS.
And Ketya, having known so many during her life had always despised them.
In Növesk, the children would gather around each other and tell tales on a night called Melsanktisya. It always occurred two nights before the Tsar's birthday and was meant as a holy day of worship and to honour the saints and martyrs of the Kingdom. While the day was devoted to praying, the children devoted their nights to stealing fresh bread and telling tales cross-legged on the floor,
As a child she'd hated that night, always forced to participate for her share of bread from her peers grubby hands. Part of her had always promised to try not to listen as they told scary tales of beast and monsters but she always listened.
And on her twelfth year, they finally mentioned the Deathless.
'He came from the east, birthed from no mother or father!' Little Maria Tretskaya had whispered that night, smiling with every word as the children gathered nearer and nearer around her. The room was all but silent, only anticipated breaths and the scuff of their feet as they moved closer to listen, could be heard.
'How can he not have a mother? Or a father?' One of the children beside her called out, earning a sharp glare from little Maria. Ketya had sucked in her breath as their storyteller began to speak.
'Beasts don't have anyone but themselves. It is known.' Maria stated, confident as she continued her story. Ketya had sat far from the centre of the room, frowning as she looked around her.
Are we all beasts then? She thought. None of them had parents, perhaps the Deathless was an orphan himself.
Perhaps he'd grown up in walls like her own, listening to a story from another little girl, about another horrible man.
When Növesk had burned, Ketya had realized that none of the orphans could be the beasts that little Maria, the same Maria that had died screaming in flames, had spoken about that night. Beasts don't have anyone but themselves, they had each other.
She thought sadly as she put a palm to her chest, feeling it more empty than it could've ever had been. But you, Ketya, you have no one.
Did that mean, like the Deathless, she was a beast? Did that mean she too, could not die?
But it was all a tale itself after all, and she preferred to think her death was alive and well, sitting in her empty chest.
..
"SHE IS NOT WELL." It was the first thing Ketya when she awoke, not daring to open her eyes. She could feel two people in the room, one of them being Farhani, who was speaking loudly without regard.
"You said she open her eyes." A mans voice this time, an accent more prominent than Farhani's with clipping words. "Was this lie?"
"She's awake, but not well. I suppose that can be blamed on you can't it?" Farhani remarked bitterly, the shuffling of her feet close to stomps.
Ketya can hear the man sigh. "She was starved, food should been able to get her better. Are you not feeding her?"
"Of course I am!" Farhani shouted back defensively, irritation obvious in her voice. "I'm doing my job perfectly well. Even though I would beg you to keep in mind that I am no nurse."
"This is temporary position Kommandar. He asked you for this. Not I."
"Yes but it's much easier to blame you isn't it?" She remarked sarcastically. "I can imagine your elation when you found out I'd be absent from the strategy meetings for the next few days."
"Your military intelligence always appreciated Farhani. It was pity to have you missing." Something in the mans voice sounded genuine, though Ketya couldn't have been sure. She kept her eyes closed as she listened carefully to Farhani's bitter laughs and angry steps.
"I'm sure!" She laughed humourlessly. "When I come back make sure that old Lieutenant Gordeshov hasn't taken my seat. I know he would be the first one to see me out of my position and back to Sultana."
"I am sure you can handle an old man stealing your chair, Kommandar."
It was obvious Farhani was smiling now. "Oh yes, I could. How would you prefer me to? Black lace or Widows kiss? In his vodka or his broth?" She could feel the tension rise in the room.
"I will take care of it. Just promise you won't leave your position again." He said with a sigh, a sudden silence erupting as she could feel two pairs of eyes on her.
Farhani coughed gently, "Good morning, Ketya."
Ketya had the good thought to pretend to be asleep but instead her eyes fluttered open, to the two figures standing in the room.
"She look—" The young man said his heavy accent on every word as his dark eyes roamed her face. The slant of his eyes was recognizable, his cap covering his dark hair as the red star upon it matched with the one on Farhani's chest.
"Sick. Yes we know." Farhani grunted, standing only a few inches shorter than the strange man beside her. He had a strange build, tall yet with wide set shoulders. On his chest an emblem of golden medals shown, obviously not a regular solider. "Must you always state the obvious, Icarus?"
"You-you were the solider in the carriage with Victor and I?" Ketya found herself asking, her voice raspy and dry as she said it.
The man called Icarus scoffed, his arms tucked into his pockets. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of her, eyes roving around her face uncomfortably. Finally he spoke, his voice as dreary and drastic as his face. "She remember."
"Of course she remembers, I would remember an horrible face as yours if I were her." Farhani laughed at her own joke, paying no mind to the look Icarus sent her way. She moved towards Ketya and pushed her pillow up so she could sit upright.
"Tell your master that I am of no use to him." Ketya urged as she looked at the solider, his expression unwavering as it was. He looked to Farhani for a moment and then looked back at her.
"He doesn't make mistakes."
"I am a mistake." Ketya blurted out suddenly. "I'm just a tailor from the city, you have no use with me—"
"If we had no use of you little girl, why did you not die?"
"What?"
Farhani bit back a strange expression as she nodded to an empty bowl of old broth that laid next to Ketya, one that had been left over from last night. "That should've killed you."
Ketya suddenly felt bile rise up in her stomach as she realized—
"You poisoned me?"
Icarus ran to hold down her arms as she tried to lift herself up to escape, to run—to go anywhere. She started screaming and did not stop until Farhani was in front of her, suddenly her palm smacking against Ketya's mouth.
"He never said we couldn't tie your mouth shut." She looked upon her quizzically, "I would stop screaming."
She stopped and watched as Farhani sighed and stepped back. Leaning against the bed the woman folded her hands together. "Your broth has been poisoned for two days, I wanted to see it for myself."
Ketya felt a dryness crawl up her throat, her breath suddenly catching. See what?
As if reading her eyes Farhani responded. "I wanted to see the girl who cannot die."
..
THE SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS.
The boy can tell immediately who they belong to, even as he sits in the far corner of his dark cell. He scrambles for the corner, far away from the bars of the door.
Tucking his head between his knees the footsteps soundin his ear. Tap, tap, tap— the sound of hard shoes. His hands begin to shake uncontrollably, his breathing sparse. You will die soon, a voice tells him.
He can hear the door to his cell open, the sound of a key in a lock.
The man is a shadow as he walks in, two other shadows of guards following him on. He cannot bare to look up at him just as he cannot bare to hear his footsteps stop. You will die soon, the voice whispers again. You will become dust.
"We meet again."
The mans voice is cold, just as he remembers it. He can feel the man kick his boot under his chin, forcing it to rise up. Their eyes meet.
He is smiling.
"I have forgotten the enjoyment of seeing nobles bow." He says, his face tilting as he stares down at him. Tall in front of him, he does not bend down to meet the prisoner. "But I suppose we all must indulge in our pleasures often, no?"
The boy cannot speak, he finds his voice buried beneath his body in its own grave. He will kill you, for all your sins, he will kill you.
"A mute you've become, I see." He says backing away and playing with the cuffs of his sleeves. The boy cannot help but notice how much he looks like a King, his dark clothes rich in the shadows. The false king, he reminds himself.
Two guards stand behind him, stiff with their spears at their side. The boy watches them closely as his gaze lingers on their weapons. Will those be in his heart soon enough?
But as he looks at the man, he knows that a death so simple, would not be his fate.
"You did your job well, I commend you for it." He says his hands folded behind his back regally as a smirk dances on his face. "Pity, you could've been halfway to Yetervina by now."
"I swear it my lord, I swear I did not betr—" The boy finds his voice quick enough to start begging, just as he did when they first put him in his cell. He had spent hours then screaming for his innocence. But nobody had came to listen.
There is a softness in the man's features for a second, his youth peeking through the shadows for a moment. It is gone in a moment. "I do not like liars."
"I am not lying, my lord, my lord—"
"You loved her." The man says casually, as if mocking him all the while. But does not mention her name, and the boy is glad for it.
And I gave her to you.
"Guilt is a terrible thing, I can only imagine what you must've felt when you realized what you thought you'd done. Writing to your Father was a terrible thing to do, wasn't it?"
The boy can feel his heart plummet. They found the letters.
He'd written to his Father, begging to aid in getting her back—he'd made a mistake. He'd made such a terrible mistake.
"I've always been fascinated by the human conscience. How fleeting, how terrible it is to feel the things you do." The man smiles for a moment, it is the smile of a wolf. "Do you think I'll kill her?"
The boy holds down a scream as his eyes widen in terror. He imagines her. Her small body torn apart, blood surrounding her. He can almost see the light in her eyes going dull.
The man laughs for a moment. A dark thing surrounding the cell. "Have no fear, boy. She is better with me than anything you or your Tsar could've given her."
"Please, please—"
"Please what? I wonder if your Father had said please when he wrote to the Tsar about the information his son gave him about where my troops were hiding. I wonder if my men said please when they were all struck through in their camps where your bastard of a King killed them all?" Anger radiates of his voice, almost shaking. But despite the anger, the man keeps his exterior cool and cold. As if he is looking at nothing more than a fly.
"You have cost me a quarter of my army."
"I am sorry, I swear I did not—"
The man finally bends down, eyes meeting his own. The boy almost gasps in fear when he finds them empty. Clear.
"I will run you through with a thousand blades. I will send you piece by piece to your Father, so he can know the consequences of killing my own." The man leans closer, his grin not wavering. "You loved her, and soon she too will dance on your grave."
The boy can barely scream before he feels blood rush from his head.
You will die. You are dust. You will be dust. You are dust.
Her face flashes for a moment and for a moment he can hear her voice as everything fades to nothing.
"Goodnight Victor."
..
IM BACK
IDK HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO WRITE THIS BUT IM GLAD I DID?
Sorry for the grammar mistakes if there are any, this hasn't been edited yet as I'm trying hard to push through writing and updating everything!
School has just been so stressful lately and I truly cannot keep up with wp and school most of the time so sorry if updates are becoming less frequent! I try the best I can :)
What do you think about Icarus? How about Farhani? What happened to Victor? Tell me your thoughts in the comments!
Thank you guys for understanding and I love you all so much,
- Elle