A/N: This is an old piece, written a year ago for a school assignment. The assignment was to choose a novel, read it, and then pick a section (a few pages) and rewrite it in a different point-of-view and another character's perspective. I chose pages 211-214 from chapter 10 of Tithe by Holly Black, and rewrote it in Roiben's perspective, first-person POV. I've seen a few scene rewrites on here, so I figured one more wouldn't hurt. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine, except the placing of the words. I don't even own the scenario - I just reworked it. The dialogue was kept the same from the book.
Tithe – And So It Begins
S.N. Wolf (Morpheus Morphine)
The revels were eerily subdued this night, far removed from their usual jarring saturnalia. Instead of dancing and darkly convivial bloodletting, there was suppressed whispering only. Glowing braziers stood in place of the usual honey cakes on the long tables.
The brugh was impossibly congested, with both Unseelie and solitary fey packed in quite literally from wall to wall. The crowds were so thick that it was difficult to lead Kaye while still holding on to her arm.
I resisted the urge to glance back at her, to give her a reassuring smile. To do so would have been cruel; it would have been no different from a boldfaced lie. She was a sacrifice – no more, no less.
Unconsciously, my mind returned to barely an hour before, when Kaye sat before me on my bed, awaiting the delivery of her dress, our eyes, noses, lips only a breath apart. Our very souls mingled as our lips touched, and the mere memory sent a chill up my spine.
It took all of my will to keep my gaze locked before me, and to not look back at frail, frightened Kaye, or to either side at the greedy and feral-eyed fey. I felt my fingers tighten reflexively around Kaye's fragile upper-arm. Any tighter, I thought, and I could snap it cleanly in half. For a brief moment, the notion gave me a thrill of excitement so sick that it made me want to vomit. I shook my head to rid my mind of the very idea.
At the center of the brugh, the Unseelie Queen Nicnevin stood, regal and dangerously beautiful. I was disconcerted to notice that the floor, fit together like pieces of a giant silver puzzle, was embossed with images of bound mortals and faeries, some of them sickeningly morbid. Behind Nicnevin, four ornate shackles, coiled against each other like sinister serpents, stank so heavily of iron that I felt about ready to pass out.
We drew nearer to the Unseelie Queen, and my body grew colder with each step. She was striking, her blue eyes so hypnotic and enchanting that no one, man or woman, could resist them. That was what made her so treacherous. Her hair, flaming crimson, was piled atop her head in many complex braids and loops, and her many-layered gown was blacker than the peak of night. The stiff collar rose starkly behind her neck, and three goblin servants held the dress's train above the ground. I struggled to tear my gaze away from her as I knelt to the ground. I focused my eyes on the solid, brown earth, not daring to glance over at Kaye, who now was beside me instead of behind.
Nicnevin's voice broke my attempt to distract myself: "Do rise." We did so, and she waved at me dismissively. Instead, I drew closer and knelt once more.
"I would give anything for her release," I whispered, the words stinging in my throat and loud against my ears. Was it because they were so true? I shivered as she brushed her long-nailed hand against the crown of my head, briefly weaving her fingers into my silver hair. I both hated and desired that touch at once. The two emotions were discordant, clashing savagely in my head and my heart. I couldn't stop myself from quickly looking up into those feral eyes. She wasn't looking at me, but beyond me and everyone else.
"Are you not already my servant in all things? Is there something of yours I do not already possess?" My heart.
"Perhaps I could offer my enthusiasm… You have oft complained of its lack." The smirk she gave at these words chilled me. She was plotting something to fix her present lack of amusement.
"I think not," she replied slowly, "I find that I like you willful." I was beginning to get frantic.
"There must be something!" The dark Queen ignored my insistent outburst, placing a finger to her lips and tapping against them in a mock-thoughtful gesture. My stomach turned, twisting and knotting itself in nervous anticipation. Her voice rose, now so loud that it was audible throughout the entire brugh. Though I didn't turn around, I felt the eyes of thousands of fey turn toward my backside.
"Tragedy is so compelling. I find myself moved to offer to play a game with you. Would you like that?" Though the true answer was no, I replied accordingly, as was expected of one of the Queen's knights.
"I am grateful, my Lady."