R&R

The Grisha Trilogy:
Madraya's Eyes

Part I

When he first received his task, it had been by orders of the Darkling himself.

The boy shrunk back from the tall and stoic man that made his arm hair stand on edge as he paused in his task of collecting apples from the orchards in the castle grounds like his mother had instructed him to do. He loved the challenge of searching for the signs that the apples were ripe for the picking and would pretend he was a mighty creature hunting for his prey as he snatched the apples with zeal with a roar that only he could hear.

But on that day, his fun was interrupted when one of the apples fell from his hand and rolled away from him. He frowned as he stumbled after the stow-away and almost crashed into the dark-clad legs of a person. When the boy reared back to look at who it was, his eyes widened as recognition flashed through his eyes. He watched in startled awe as the Darkling leaned down and picked up the apple.

"It's your lucky day little one," he spoke.

"I have a special task for you."

The boy stared up at the domineering figure in confusion, but it wasn't long before excitement bubbled in the pit of the stomach. After all, even he knew of the Darkling and the Second Army, and the thought that he of all people was to be given a task by the commander made him wonder what sort of adventure was in store for him.

As the boy trailed behind the elegant black kefta, he imagined all sorts of scenarios his young mind could conjure up, and as they approached a small hut he had never known was there, his heart rate picked up as he eyed it with curiosity and excitement. As they got closer however, he became weary at the eerie feel of the place, and he stayed close to the Darkling as he reached for the door and opened it without so much as knocking. The heat that hit him was unexpected, and his mind jumped to the thought of a fire breathing creature lurking in the shadows made by the fire that roared within. Still, the boy held his ground and straightened his posture as he tried to imitate the Darkling as he regarded the shadows of the hut with a confident gaze.

"Have you come to bask at your victory, boy?"

The young boy jumped at the sound of the raspy voice that cut through the stillness of the dark. At the harshness and resentment in the voice however however, his gaze strayed up at to the Darkling in time to see him frown.

"Your punishment has been dealt. I come with an act of kindness too great for a betrayal such as yours. Be grateful."

The boy jumped once more at the humorless laugh that followed, a laugh that sent a chill through his bones.

"Kindness? Please, spare me your act of humility."

The boy once more looked to the Darkling, and he was able to catch the clenching of his jaw as he stood up straighter as well.

"Think what you will, it changes nothing."

With those words, the Darkling turned back to the boy and the task at hand.

"I need you to watch after this wretched old woman. She's dreadful and frightening, but she's incapable of anything in her state. I need you to be her eyes. Can you do that?"

The boy stared the Darkling and nodded with determination, not really knowing what he wanted him to do but too embarrassed to show it. The Darkling looked pleased and placed a hand atop of his head, ruffling his hair in the process. A silent thank you flashed through his eyes before he turned and walked back from where they came, black kefta flowing behind him.

"Who's there!" her commanding tone left no room for argument and for the third time that day, the boy jumped at the sound.

His eyes widened and he hesitated as a figure emerged from the shadows. He had to resist the urge to gasp at the sight, and the word witch flashed through his thoughts as his nerves flared and his heart pounded against his chest. He felt as though he was seeing a walking corpse, all bones and gray skin supported by a stick in her skeletal hand. But as he saw the bandages that wrapped around her head, he knew exactly what the Darkling had meant when he had asked him to be her eyes.

"Well, speak! Bark! Or whatever it is you do."

Now aware of his role, he tried to reign in his fear.

"M-my name is M-Misha," he replied, unable to keep the stutter from his soft voice. He jumped once more as she uttered an indignant humph.

"He brings me a child to be my eyes and expects me to be grateful? The nerve of that boy!"

Misha winced and shrunk back at the anger in her voice, not sure what to do other than simply stand there.

"Well what are you waiting for? Come here," Misha's eyes widened in confusion at the sudden change in attitude at his presence, and the tone of her voice made him move forward without him even realizing it. He stopped short of her, and he watched as her hands rose up and seemed to search the air in front of her. Seeing what she was trying to do, Misha hesitantly walked within reach of her bony hands, and he cringed back as he felt her hands touch his skin. He was surprised by the softness of her skin, despite the protruding bones, as well as her gentle touch as her hands moved to cup his cheeks and run across his forehead and chin. He frowned at the unfamiliar action and how vulnerable and uncomfortable it made him feel.

"You're small," she says, and he frowns further as he resists the urge to contradict her, his cheeks puffing up in indignation.

"How old are you boy?"

He frowns, but his young mind struggles for an answer with mild embarrassment.

"Six," his uncertainty is clear, because she humphs once more and lets her hands drop from his face.

"What good is a boy to me that doesn't even know his age?"

He watched as she used her stick to feel her way forward. When her stick hits the chair in front of the fire, her hands reaches up to feel her way into sitting.

"Leave me," she says, waving her hand in dismissal.

Misha tensed at his easy dismissal, but refused to move from where he stood as he tried to figure out what to do. A part of him very much wanted to leave the blind scary witch and continue to pick the apples from the orchard, but another part of him knew that would mean going back on his word to the Darkling, and one of the things his mother always stressed was to always keep his promises.

"What, are you hard of hearing too boy?" she snapped.

This time, Misha neither cringed nor jumped at her voice, and instead he took in a deep breath as he took a tentative step forward.

Then another.

And another.

He stepped forward until he was only a foot away from the chair in which she sat. Without a word he sat on the floor beside the chair, and folded his arms stubbornly as a pout adorned his face.

Although she knew that he was still there, she chose to save her breath, and test his patience instead.

It didn't take long before he began to fidget where he sat, and she had to fight the urge to snap at him to seize it immediately. After all, she wanted to see how long he would choose to stay.

Misha was quite bored, and the more time that passed, the more he regretted following the Darkling and accepting this task. There was nothing to do! The scary witch didn't so much as move, and more than once he had to look back to see if she was still alive. She might as well have been sleeping in the way that she didn't move a single inch as she sat. The only sounds in the small hut was the crackling of the flames as they licked and burned the wood in the fire. It was when the fire began to die out that he felt relieved to have something to do as he stood and walked to the pile of firewood that was piled up on one side of the fireplace. This was not the first time he had rekindled a fire, so he didn't hesitate as he threw a few pieces of wood into the fireplace and poked them with the fire iron. Once satisfied that the fire was strong enough, he walked back to where he had previously sat to suffer in silence.

The next time something to do rose up came hours later, when dinner was brought to the hut. At the sound of three knocks at the door, Misha looked back to the scary witch and waited for a response, but none came. Another three knocks sounded and the sound of something being placed on the ground sounded. Hearing the sound of retreating footsteps, Misha stood and walked to the door before opening it tentatively. He was surprised when he saw a tray of food on the ground.

It wasn't until the smell of food wafted over to him that he remembered he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. The hunger reared up with a vengeance and he felt his mouth begin to water as his stomach growled. He looked over his shoulder to the still figure of the scary witch and picked up the tray with care as he walked back with slow and calculating steps. He paused when he realized there wasn't anywhere nearby to place the tray on, until he found a small dining table off to the side of the hut. He walked over and placed the tray on the small wooden table.

The smell of the quail roasted in honey, figs, and porridge as well as a glass of red wine.

"Bring me the wine, leave the rest."

He almost jumped at the sound of her voice, but there was a certain relief to hear her speak. Obediently, he grabbed the glass of wine and walked it over the scary witch. He gently placed it against one of her hands so she could feel its surface and grab it on her own.

She said nothing after taking the glass in her bony hands, and silently he returned to his seat on the floor. But as he sat, the aroma of the food still reached his nose, and it wasn't long before his stomach begun to roar, louder and louder as time passed. He held his arms against it, trying to quiet the sounds, but to no avail.

"Eat boy."

"But—" it was the first time he had spoken since telling her his age, but she quickly cut him off.

"Don't make me say it again. Eat and leave."

Misha frowned and stood up before walking to the plate he had left at the table. Once he reached the table, he picked up the tray and walked back to the chair where he hesitated as he looked from the spot he had been sitting in to the scary witch as she took a sip from her glass.

He shook his head as he seemed to fight with himself, before he swiftly placed the tray in the scary witch's lap. He watched as he body tensed and she looked over in his direction, but before he could lose his momentary courage he reached for her free hand and placed it where the fork was. He watched a frown form on her face in the way the bandages scrunched up on her forehead and he was glad that he wasn't able to see her eye to eye.

"E-eat," he said, trying to sound as commanding as possible, before he turned on his heel and rushed out the door.

The old witch sat stunned on her chair, before she humphed once more.

"Children…" she muttered under her breath, then grabbed the fork and jabbed at the food with new found hunger.

A/N:

I had soo many plot bunnies from reading Ruin and Rising, and there's one particular pairing I'm eager to try my hand at. No, it's not Darklina, although I do have another plot bunny when it comes to those two. But we shall see!

Did anyone manage to read the Darkling's prequel story? It's where I got the title from. If you haven't, it's the collector edition(which I bought solely for the purpose of the Darkling's story because I had already preordered R&R on my kindle).

Well what can I say, I have a soft spot for Bahgra and I was touched by the scene with Misha near the end. I really adored his character and I wanted to delve into their relationship and explore their characters some.

I hope to expand on this, but this is what I managed to get done for today. What did you guys think? Let me know in a review :)