RABBITNOTES: So the first chapter was more like half the intended, and I wasn't pleased with how it turned out, so have a more detailed continuation of the balcony scene and some more before we progress further into the plot of Glass Sword, which will make poor Alyn a little less passive. I also added some very small details and descriptions in the last chapter but it's nothing too big and you don't need to look it up.
It was a long night. And despite knowing the morning wouldn't change a thing, it was welcomed with open arms. The sun that rose from grey and black clouds painted the sky in pools of red. Alyn found that almost fitting, as he sat on the balcony, shivering but wide awake. He tugged the blanket Maven had given him tighter around him, sitting as still as he could. Crimson held him warm. It was fitting like the sky. People had passed the room, cleaning the shattered porcelain, but by now, Alyn was good to become unrecognizable. He gave servants and guards alike the feeling he wasn't more than a chair, barely alive and very harmless. It worked well. He only knew one person who never forgot he existed. And she was hallways away, doing what snakes used to do in the warmth of their lair.
Next door, Maven was fast asleep, and when Alyn concentrated on it, he felt the sleek surface of a deep and calm mind. No worries, no dreams, bizarre like marble reflecting light, slippery, hard, but untouched. The boy had nightmares, Alyn remembered. The king didn't even dream.
It had been a hunt. Alyn Velx had never been present at one of those old traditions his father had praised, he had seen the broidered images on tapestry and paintings. He imagined the strained breath of the animal. And he knew it was not an animal breathing hard and feeling trapped while on the run. And it was that thought, overall, that made him sick. He imagined nameless faces, red and bloody. Silver and burnt. They were a fluid mix, and the faces, although nameless, haunted him. They became the faces of the first red man he had tortured, filling him with love, the face of a silver woman screaming, asking for her son.
He didn't know all the details. But the increased activity of guards and soldiers, and the way everyone seemed so frail in their fake optimism, in their hushed praise and carefully placed steps, dancing around the new king and the his mother. Oh, it said enough.
He had seen the jets, and though Naercy was too far away to see the fire and the missiles, he imagined it all too well. There was the rolling thunder, not unlike the lightning storm Mare Barrow had unleashed. And the smoke. The smoke was the worst. It left things to imagine how many people had been hurt or died.
Mavens barely contained anger spoke even bigger volumes.
I take it your attempt to capture your brother and Mare Barrow did not go so well.
Alyn could have asked if the sky was blue or water wet.
The anger cooled down into something else as Alyn retreated to the doorstep of his mind. It had become his routine again, somehow, so easy, so intuitive. He just had to reach out, and Maven clung to him like a little child would cling to the skirt of his mother, or a drowning man clung to the saving hand. It was like he had never been gone. And yet everything had changed. He knew of the demons in Maven's head. He had watched them growl and shift these past weeks, he had told himself to stay away first. Because of utter disappointment. And of all the blame. But the blame was still his as was his responsibility. And his love and so he would break before bending, feeding all that was good and easy to the abyss that was Maven Calore's loathing for himself and the loathing, it was groundbreaking, bitter.
For a while, they had just stood on the balcony.
Alyn's fluttering heart and his aching bones had tried to make sense of it all. Through his closed eyes, the feelings were a deep ocean of different voices, screaming, singing, gripping. They'd tried to take him, but he took a deep breath, and slowly, so very slowly, they grew more silent, until they were only a steady static noise in the back of his own head.
I am in control. He told himself.
When he opened his eyes, he found Maven staring absently into the darkness. Alyns eyes took their time to trail along his face, pale in the dim light that broke through the window behind them. Lighting Maven's pale face, the shadows painted sharp lines along his jawline and cheeks, eyes staring into nothingness very dark.
He noticed Alyns staring, and once more , Alyn wondered what he saw.
"I know what you think of me after the last days." Maven said."You think I am a monster. I can see it."
You always were observant, Alyn thought, looking down on the railing. I always wished to be as smart and observant as you, maneuvering around, knowing rules and bending them to my will.
His hands were gripping hard, knuckles white muscles tense.
Maven waited for an answer. And Alyn took his time. When he finally spoke his voice was very low.
"Can I tell you a story?" He asked, lips frowning, remembering Julians face What's a story if it stays untold?
"I don't see why not." Maven answered, radiating a mixture of mild curiosity and keen observance, sharp eyes watching every of Alyn's moves.
"We had dogs when I was little. " Alyn cleared his throat. "One was brown, with a white spot on his nose. I won't ever forget that one. "
"You never told me about them." Maven said, and Alyn shook his head.
"I was very small. It's like a bad dream. My father wasn't much of an animal person. He kept them on chains. I remember their howling at night. I could hear it in my chamber. They growled and barked all the time. And their restless anger. They didn't want to be chained up. They wanted to run and sniff. They wanted to play. But the longer they were in that kennel, the more they got angry. My sister was so scared at one point she cried and didn't want to go out in the yard because you could hear the poor creatures circling and growling. My uncle had started teaching me. I thought I knew how to helps them. I wanted to calm them. And so I went to the kennels . The dogs barked at me so loud I was tempted to run away. But the brown one was just looking at me. He stared straight at me. He was so calm."
Licking his dry lips, he stopped for a second, remembering the stench of the dogs, the dirt, and the clinking sound of the chains, the dogs throwing themselves against them. The raw strength and anger they had produced. Froth on wide open muzzles, big yellow teeth. Paws in the air as they tugged on their leashes.
"I concentrated all my will on him. His white nose sniffed me out. I thought I had him under my spell. He seemed calm and patient. Then I stretched out my arm to pat him. And he made that sound. I had never heard anything like it." Rolling up his sleeve, he laid his arms bare. A pattern of scars was shimmering silver in the light. " Something in him snapped, and through the calm, he was the angriest thing ever. His teeth were very, very sharp. It was the first time I remember feeling pain."
"Your uncle must have been angry at you." Maven said, his eyes trailing over the scar.
"He was. But that wasn't the worst. My father didn't care they had hurt me, that was their purpose, after all, to attack, but my sister was crying terribly, and uncle Theron convinced him to get rid of the dogs. He shot the brown one, I watched him do it. "
" I remember you a little, as a kid." Maven sounded very sober, leaning closer, Alyn could smell him. He smelled of fire, burnt earth. Alyn still stared at the scar on his forearm, seeing the snout, white spot on top, closing around a small arm, a weight pushing him down on the ground. "You felt obligated to hold the weight of the world."
His father had refused to let him go out after the incident, and he kept the door to Alyn's room locked tight until the day he dragged his seven-year-old self in the palace to soothe a mind plagued and whirling.
"It was my fault the dogs got shot. " Alyn whispered. " In the end...My father had locked them up. But I had tried to unleash them without trying to understand their nature. I was foolish. I never learned from it. I still try to calm the dog without trying to understand his nature."
"I am aware," Maven sounded thoughtful. " I am the dog in this metaphor, "He touched Alyn's arm, slender fingers on silver kissed skin, right where the fangs of the dog had left their marks."But I wouldn't bite you. I can promise."
"That remains to be seen, your grace. "Alyn's voice sounded hoarse when he looked up. He thought of the boundless anger and of the war that was waging everywhere.
"The dog didn't understand what you meant to do. But I am no dog. We are where we're supposed to be. And you know that."
No, Alyn wanted to say. I can't, I want to, but all I feel is destruction.
He felt the brimming righteous energy in Maven's words. But righteous didn't mean justice. He was honest as one could be when he knew how to evade someone who read feelings.
" You decided to stay on your own, Alyn. You decided to wait. I told you to stop. But you did not. What does that tell you about decisions?"
" But even when decisions are hard, does that justify bloodshed?"
"You never needed to make a decision based on anything other than yourself. Did you?" Flecks of ash shimmered in his dark hair as he took off his crown, red molten flames in dim light and darkest night. He twirled it in his hands careful. "You make it easy. You blame and you weep. You don't see what's necessary."
Alyn swallowed hard. He had always given the blame to other people, Maven's word held true.
He blamed the queen, he blamed his father, he blamed the world. He blamed Maven.
His words were creeping under his skin, as much as Alyn Velx could deny, he couldn't stop the hammering guilt in his heart.
But beneath it all, it's the knowledge that Maven tried to convince him, of neccessity, where there is nothing left but a deep void of lies, that hurt Alyn.
Convince yourself,not me, my bright prince.
"This world doesn't care if you cry for it." Maven said, hands gripping his crown tightly. Determined. Bitter. "You survive or you don't. And everyone will move on. What do you think happens when you go, Alyn Velx?"
"I hope you'd notice." Alyn let out a stiffled small laugh, a breath of air in the darkness, a small puff of fog.
" But that would not change a thing." Despite Alyn's knowledge of the toxic wasteland that stretched before him, he was walking willingly, reaching out to feel the familiar sharp edges of injustice and the brimming energy. He held tight, this time, he was the one that couldn't let go, and it was hard to keep his back straight. Maven noticed his efforts just too well. "Never show weakness."
Alyn pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
"You told me that before. But I don't think I can be like that."
"And yet you are still here."
Alyn pondered what to answer.
Because I can't leave. I promised, didn't I?
Because there is still that part that loves you. It's the part that keeps me lurking around.
You're all I have left.
"You remind me of home. I miss home. "
The crown had found its place on Maven's head again. He seemed bigger than before, steadier. Alyn looked into his face, half eaten by the king's mind, swallowing him whole, and half anchored in place by his eyes. Then he bowed his head.
"I think we could talk the whole night about the nature of dogs and decisions that seem to be neccessary." Alyn muttered.
"We could. " Maven agreed. "But we won't."
There was nothing Alyn Velx could have told the king that he wasn't already aware of. Or heard somewhere else. "Is that an order, my king?"
"Merely a suggestion. " Maven huffed at him, and Alyn smiled a little. " I am tired, and you are standing on my balcony."
"If you'll allow, I'll stay."
Alyn didn't wait for the king to answer, sinking on the cold ground, folding himself tightly together, arms holding his legs.
"It's cold. You don't even wear a coat."
"Sharpens my mind."
"Reading a book instead of people could do the same, Lord Velx."
"I am honoured by your worries. But didn't you just say you were tired?"
Maven disapeared into the destroyed room, with smashed porcelain still decorating the ground. When he returned, Alyn got in posession of the crimson blanket that was still tugged around him.
It was a small thing, the tiniest sentiment, but it was kind. It was everything Alyn could have asked for and never would have.
When he returned to his chamber he noticed his coat. It was lying in the bed, scrambled like he had left it. Except that the sleeves were hanging down. Alyn blinked. He knew he had seen the sleeves half hidden and folded when he left. It was one of the small things he did, because either way he still appeared all crinkled and crumpled, almost tattered in his too big and not so fancy clothes. But the coat thing, that had stuck in prison. Every night in his cell he had tried to tell how long he was already in hell, and then he folded his coat and prayed to any spirit willing to listen.
Julian's letter, Alyn thought, and his hands were clutching and gripping, searching in panic.
He was no fool.
As he searched his pockets he knew that whoever had looked, had taken it.
They had searched the whole small chamber, and he was half sure to find the blinking black lens of a camera somewhere. Of course he did not find anything, but that didn't mean no one had prepared such thing.
He had found nothing regarding the circumstances of Julian Jacos disappearance. He had convinced himself Julian was safe and just cautious, which was hard after all the bloodshed and destruction that had followed the kings death.
His boot kicked the wooden and metal bed frame hard in anger and frustration.
The letter was the last thing Vael Gliacon and Julian Jacos had left Alyn. He had carried it in his pocket as a talisman, a charm to protect himself. The evil was inside his own head. But when his fingers touched the letter, his thoughts drifted to gentle Julian resembling his uncle in the sunshine, a book in his hand, and Vael Gliacon nudging his shoulder, smiling. And that told him there was something worth to keep the fight alive, something worth he had to protect, something he would show himself and Maven. To prove once and for all that despite the evil there always had to be light.
Alyn sat down next to his coat and cursed himself.
He should have hidden it or kept it closer. Now the paper was gone and he had little to no hope to ever see it again. It was sure as hell already in Elaras hands. The witch wasn't too happy how Maven was treating him. And she knew too well he perfectly understood what they had done. Alyn's mind twitched and he felt angrier than he had ever been able was red boiling water hot, desperation, cutting deep.
She had to take everything. She never let go. She had taken his life, his family, his freedom, it was never enough.
"Lord Velx?" a thin voice asked. Alyn blinked, head whipping up.
The girl couldn't be older than himself, and her eyes flinched away under his glare.
Finally, someone has the sense to be scared of me.
He could have invaded her frail mindset with ease, crushing her little-left confidence, pulverizing it under his anger.
When he caught himself thinking about that, it almost immediately vanished, turning into shock.
"I am sorry to invade your privacy."
No worries,he thought, there was none left.
"I was asked to deliver this."
The box was shining in the light, painted in blue and green, simple, but somehow pretty.
"Who gave you this?" Alyn asked, taking it from her hands.
"I-uh" she shuffled her feet."I was asked not to talk about it, Lord Velx."
It was heavy for such a small thing, and when he turned it in his hands, he heard the tiniest of clinking sounds.
"It must have been important. Why did they ask you?"
"I am just doing my job." She blushed crimson under his stare, uncomfortable and he could feel her restless energy. She wanted nothing more than to leave. He made her very uneasy. And maybe her red blood feared to spill after all the violence if she made just the tiniest mistake.
It would have been easy to bury inside her, to make her stay and talk.
She almost ran away when he just nodded.
His fingers fiddled with the case of the box until he could open it, pulling at the metal
I miss my home, Alyn had said. He remembered the words just too well, how he had regretted even saying them.
The pictures showed the house he had grown up.
The ivy was just as green and raking along the windows as he remembered. There was a horse in the barn to the right. And despite it being stupid, Alyn laughed and cried at the same time when his fingers brushed over the image. It was just a horse.
The last picture was showing the face of a girl. She was silver, pale, with a strong jawline , brown hair reaching along her shoulders, and her lips were curled almost challenging. She had eyes so green the ivy paled in comparison, flecked with soft brown spots. Alyn's heart started to ache. If he had looked in the mirror, the same eyes would have looked back.
Zella Velx, someone had written on the back. 14 years.
The box almost fell down his lap as Alyn shifted, the picture of his dead sister in his hand. He held it as tight as he could.
