Lilura
I wasn't his. I could be free, I could leave right now. The three thoughts swirl in my head like a broken record. I wasn't his. I could be free, I could leave right now. I look at myself in my mirror. My pale skin contrasts my inky hair, which just causes me to look paler, too pale. I believe that in death, my skin will not change. I brush out my hair in long strokes, after the brush threads through the strands, it pops back into its curls. I wasn't his. I could be free, I could leave right now. So why don't you? I stopped brushing my hair. My fingers frozen and my mouth parted. I inhale slightly before shaking my head. He needs me, I should stay. For him. I don't know why the thought twirls through my mind. I don't know who I'm thinking of. The thought feels more like a distant memory then a reassurance I need currently. The thoughts leave me like a wind picked them up and they are twirled through the air. A knock reaches my ears, dancing through the cabin.
"The Captain wishes to speak with you," a voice calls. It belongs to my private guard, Alan. I giggle. The Captain needs me. I skip to my closet and twirl a piece of my hair around my finger once. Twice. What to wear? "Lilura , please hurry. He's waiting," Alan says louder, pounding his fist against the door. I giggle in triumph, finding a dress hidden in my closet. It's a tight, red dress that's velvety to the touch and flows onto the ground, dragging behind me and seeming to leave rose petals in its wake. I put it on, and twirl watching the train spin out around me. Placing a gold headpiece whose crystals hang onto my forehead and onto my hair, I open the door. Alan scowls.
"You will have to be quicker. He gets impatient," he growls. I wave an airy hand.
"Science must grace your lips, for he called for me and I will come at my own will," I whisper, walking out of my room and onto the deck filled with men. One ties ropes tight while another heaves barrels to and from the kitchen. The buzz of voices silences as I step out. Then the whispers begin.
"I heard she's the queen."
"...she's crazy"
"...can't be cured."
"Captain's trying."
I giggle paying no mind at the accusations. I know I'm not crazy and I know I'm not Queen. How wrong could they be about me? Haven't they dined with me for months, have they not been listening to my tales? I sigh and continue to the Captain's study. I knock once before entering.
"Your royal Captain, how may I serve you?" I ask and bow before giggling. The Captain's usually dark eyes are clear. They're like a sky in the morning, filled with dew and a promise of a good day. He smiles. He looks tired with bags under his eyes and an unshaven face. I wonder what ails him so.
"Don't call me royal or Captain. That's not a title needed with you," he says. His voice is rough like sandpaper, but it smoothes out with a sweetness like honey sending shivers down my spine.
I twirl around his cabin, arms outstretched. Dancing to the sound of his voice.
"But my Captain are you not in charge of this ship?" I say twirling to face him. My dress continues to twirl, wrapping around my legs.
"I am."
"So should I not honor that as a passenger aboard your ship?"
"Any other passenger should, but not you," he says. He walks to me and lifts my small hand in his rough and calloused one. He presses his lips to it. "Please sit, we have business to discuss." I pout, pouring my body onto the chair across from his desk. He walks around the large oak desk to sit in his chair. I hum, looking around the room. It's just as I remembered from yesterday. The swords gleam on the wall and behind the Captain is a large window where the sea sits gleaming just beyond the glass. He clears his throat, calling my attention. I swing my head to face him. His eyes are bright with amusement, still clear.
"My Captain, please speak, silence tarnishes the soul," I hum.
"Please call me Everette," he persists. I giggle and slap a hand over my mouth. "But I called for you to discuss our next trip." I gasp. Our trips are always so delightful.
"Where to?" I ask, leaning forward in the chair. My curls hang, partially covering my face.
"The Iris Kingdom." The name chills me as a fear strikes my chest, soaking through my skin and to my bones. I detest that kingdom, but cannot place why. I sit straighter and my neck goes stiff. Everette watches me with curiosity, his eyes gleam with hope at my reaction. I hurry to giggle, disguising the fear. For reason I know not off, but it feels like a habit long forgotten, hiding my fear. The hope fades and his eyes dull.
"How wonderful. For how long?"I sweetly ask.
"I'm not sure. I hope to meet a witch that may help me. I wish for you to accompany me." I nod, wishing I could ask what he needs help with. Alas, it is not my business. But witches are known for tricking their clients. My fingernails dig into my palms at the thought of Everette being cursed. I couldn't bear the thought of my love—
I stop my thoughts. Confusion bubbles in my mind. Everette is a Captain, he merely allows me to live on his ship with Alan. Nothing more or less. I do not love him as he does not love me. I scowl looking down at my clenched hands. Blood has pooled in my palms.
"Is anything the matter?" Everette says, leaning back in his chair. I quickly hide the scarlet liquid by allowing it to drop onto my already red dress.
"Nothing is, Captain." My response is short, more snappy then I meant. It whips through the air. I begin to hum under my breath, hoping to lift the heavy tension from the room. I look up at Everette once I've composed myself. His eyes have gone dark, like the sky before a storm strikes. The familiar color comforts me, calming me more effectively than my hum.
"Don't call me Captain, I am not above you."
"But you are, my royal Captain," I say, tilting my head to look at him under my lashes. His face pales before gesturing for me to leave. I quickly stand and skip out of the room, humming while my arms tilt and sway in the sea breeze. I turn back to say goodbye but catch him looking defeated and weak. The words fall in my throat and crawl back into nothingness. I must say it doesn't suit him well.
Returning to my cabin, the fear from the Iris Kingdom consumes me once more. Unlike before I am unable to compose myself. I force a hum out, but it sounds broken, like shattered glass. My hands wring as I throw my headpiece into my closet. A memory bubbles to my mind. It rises like champagne bubbles and it pops at the surface.
Butterflies swarm from every direction. From beneath the leaves, falling like it were autumn, rising from the creek like a great flood, leaping into the air, and ducking from beneath branches. They swarm onto me, crawling to my eyes. Every step they take stings like a hot needle pricking my skin. I shriek, trying to brush the insects off. But they cling to me, their brightly colored wings flap. One by one the sit upon my eyelid that's squeezed shut. They take a drop of my sight and fly away. Slowly my sight flies away in the hands of butterflies. My world goes dark.
I force my eyes to open after they snapped shut at the memory. I look at my room. It's neat, the bed is made, corners tucked in tightly. My vanity is organized with my many brushes and clips. My closet has all clothes arranged by color. It fits me perfectly, but my eyes dance around the room, my fingers digging into my already harmed palms. The blood wells to the surface of my skin and pours out down my fingertips and dropping to the floor.
Before I could process what I saw, I let out a shriek like death. My mind seems to have floated away from my body. I watch myself scream and it sounds like the shriek of wind in a terrible storm. I look to see what caused such a noise to burst from me. I see the blood that has gathered on the floor. It spreads out like wings, like butterfly wings.
I snap into my body again and scream. I claw at my arms, trying to get the butterflies off. I scratch my skin, peeling the legs away. My fingers dig into my arms and my screams make my throat hoarse. It burns as if I swallowed fire. The butterflies emerge from under my bed and from the folds of my dresses. They crawl over my skin and through my hair. I pull at my dress and hair, begging for the flap of delicate wings to leave me.
"Lilura!" Everette yells, crashing through my door. He scoops me into his chest, but I push against him.
"Stop! The butterflies they're crawling on me! Get them off!" Tears stream down my face as I twist in my skin, uncomfortable with it.
"There's no butterflies, open your eyes." His voice is soft and washes over me. My cries fade into whimpers as I stop tearing at my skin.
"But they were here. I remember I was in a forest and they came and took my sight. Then I was here and they came again," My voice trails off as hot tears burn down my face. Everette tucks me against him again, stroking my tangled hair.
"They're gone. There's no more butterflies, they've flown away. You can see now," he whispers into my hair. I hug his chest, clutching my hands together around him. My eyes open, terrified that my sight has been lost. But it hasn't. I can still see perfectly. The dread that filled me rushes out with a hissed breath. I clutch Everette tighter, my ear resting against his heartbeat.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome Lilura. Are you alright?" He asks, pulling back and holding my shoulders so he can look into my eyes. I look up to look at him. I feel the tears that cling to my eyelashes. I blink them away and nod. I stare at Everette's eyes. They're the usual darkness like storm clouds, but hope glimmers in them again. It causes them to look green. I begin to hum, which morphs into words I don't remember ever hearing.
Come little children, come and follow me away.
I will lead you to a garden of shadows, where there lays your fate.
It is entwines in the wicked branches of a hanging tree.
There we will al be swinging in necklaces of rope
Come little children, I will grant your wishes and dreams and hopes.
Follow the beckoning hands into this maze of shadows.
The light chases itself into darkness, as you begin to stumble over roots that crawl into the path.
Come little children, to tie your own necklaces. The fraying pieces will save your death for eternity, but the hope of being lost will haunt you.
The man that hangs there watching us smiles. His jagged skull grinning at our hopes.
Come little children into my garden, my garden of hopes and dreams.
Here everything is broken and shattered on the ground.
Little stories in every dead seed.
I finish the song, the words hang in the air like cobwebs. I don't know where they come from, but they are hauntingly familiar. I glance to Everette, his face has paled and his eyes are bright with the green of fresh grass.