Chapter 4 - Goodbyes

First there had been indignant rage. Then rueful resignation, rounded out by long suffering acceptance. How could this have happened? How in all the worlds could this have happened? Had it not been a simple task, had everything not been clearly, unerringly laid out? He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Finally he turned to face her.
To her credit, she looked properly ashamed. This was no small mistake she'd made. Oh no, quite the opposite. The ramifications of her actions- He had to stop himself again and take a breath. When he finally felt calm enough to speak, she beat him to it.
"I'm sorry. I know those words could never hope to even begin to make up for my actions. I'd say it was an honest mistake, but that too doesn't help. What I can say though, is that I have begun to take steps to correct things." At this she beamed at him. She. Friggin. Beamed.
His head was going to explode, he just knew it. Spinning on his heel, he stomped out of the room. No way could he deal with the situation in the mood he was in. Unfortunately for them both, she didn't seem to get that and tagged along behind him. Blissfully, she kept quiet. Mostly. He continued his trek, not bothering to pay attention to where his feet led him. One foot in front of the other, keep going until you can breathe normally again. He wished she'd stop following him and let him have some peace. He wished a lot of things, but you know what they say about wishes.
Just when he sensed she was going to break the almost silence, he spun to face her again. Before she could usher a word, he held his hand up to stop her. She slowly closed her mouth and fiddled with the hem of her sleeve.
"Daeadara, I'm sure you already know half of what is on my mind and what I would say. As much as I would like an explanation, I feel we need to deal with the pressing matter at hand. What exactly do you mean by, you have 'begun to take steps to correct things'? You know the rules."
"I know, I know and I'm not breaking them. Much." She hurried on before he could get worked up again. " Listen! Ok, I know I messed up in a major way. And I know I can't force anyone's hand. But I also can't sit quietly in the shadows, whispering suggestions that I can only hope they'll heed. Nothing will get fixed that way. So I'm taking a slightly more direct approach, without giving away pertinent facts!"
"What. Have. You. Done?" He was grinding his molars to dust.
"Tell me, Alistair, do you like peeling potatoes?"
His head was going to explode, he just knew it.

-

There was nothing he could do when they came for him. There was no use in fighting, as staying locked in this tower would not help him in any way. He was only mildly surprised when he heard the small door in the wall next to his cell door open and close. Hesitantly he moved to the adjoining door inside the room and opened it. Usually it was used to deliver his food. The two doors could not be open at the same time, try as he might in his first days in his newfound prison to rip it from the wall. In the space between the doors was enough room for a tray of food. This time however, there was simply a bowl of broth.
He knew what it was. For fear of him fighting, and potentially killing, any of the guards assigned to move him, they sought to drug him. Though he knew that he had to play along to get out of there, he could not bring himself to relinquish his facilities. Instead, he dumped the contents of the bowl in his chamber pot and closed the little door. He didn't know if the effects of the potion were supposed to be sudden or slow, so he simply let himself slump to the floor where he was, hoping he looked convincing enough.
After what seemed an eternity, the door's lock disengaged. Another few moment passed before it opened a crack. By the time the first person finally stepped into the room to assess the beast on the floor, several agonizingly slow minutes had passed.
They must truly think me a monster to go about this so cautiously, he thought, fighting off a frown. He continued to lay still as he was gently poked and his paw lifted and dropped. Apparently convinced, the person moved away and he heard murmuring in the hall outside his room.
There was a rustle of skirts and the sharp click of boots as two people moved into the room to stand next to him. Suddenly a body fell atop him and he had to force himself to remain still. He could smell his mother's scent as she cried silently into his fur. He yearned to hold and comfort her, tell her he was innocent and they would sort it all out. Then he remembered that they were sending him away and his thoughts turned less than charitable.
"Oh Aryn. My darling sweet boy." There was love and heartbreak in her voice and it softened the anger in his heart.
"Come Alimora, we cannot stay." Aryn felt his father kneel next to his mother and briefly rest a loving hand on his furry head before helping her to stand.
There was so much confusion in Aryn's thoughts. They seemed to love him, but were banishing him, had already banished him to this room without a word of why. They'd come to say their goodbyes in heartbroken tones instead of the hatred he'd been expecting. But if they loved him so, why did they keep him in the dark? Why were they hiding him away instead dealing with the problem head on as they had always done before when faced with any sort of serious dilemma?
The guards replaced his parents in the room and began gently concealing him in great swaths of cloth. When every part of him was covered, they lifted him onto a litter and left the room. Just before descending the stairs, they paused and he felt a light pressure near his head, and his sister's voice whisper, "Be strong."
As he was carted away from his family, he had to swallow the keening noise that tried to escape his throat. He wondered when, or rather if ever, he would see them again. The moment held such finality, he had a hard time believing he ever would.

-

Sara and her mother had packed all her things the night before. She didn't have much to bring, a few simple plain colored dresses, a few books, her drawing pad and her charcoals. She'd also packed the family portrait she'd done herself of her family. Her brother, Henri, and sister, Jade, had tried to give her their most prized possessions, the wooden toys, to take with her as keepsakes to remember them by. She had told them to keep them to remember her by.
They cried when she helped put them to bed and told them not to despair. She was not leaving them forever and would be back to visit at the first possible occasion. She would write often and send them drawings of her new home. That had caught their attention and they started to imagine what her new home would be like. A castle with a moat and a dragon? They begged her to send them a picture of the dragon. She promised she would, if indeed one was to be found.
After they had settled, there was a stillness in the house as Sara, her mother and her father all sat in the common room looking at each other apprehensively. This was not a day her parents had ever foreseen for her. Shamefully, they had assumed she would always live with them, due to her… uniqueness. They loved her dearly and did not find her lacking, but the world did not share this view point and they had witnessed her shunnings for so long, they had simply come to expect her to be their spinster daughter.
But now that was all changed. She was only a year into adulthood and was leaving home under mysterious circumstances. If the king was not so well loved and so trusted, her parents doubted they could have let her go, adult or not. She had made up her own mind though and her decisions were her own to make. And there didn't seem to be much left to say, so they all simply sat in silence.
Finally her mother Jessica got up and retrieved her brush, pulling Sara's hair out from it's confines. She brushed the long, pale locks into perfect smoothness, just as she had done when Sara was a child. Sara closed her eyes and smiled at the comfort. She would miss this.
She stood now with her family in front of their home, awaiting the royal carriage sent to retrieve her. The sun had barely broken over the horizon and the quiet city was painted in shades of pink, purple and orange. Her siblings rubbed the sleep from their eyes, as they leaned into her legs. It would be hard to let them go.
From behind, her father laid a hand on her shoulder and tilted his head to indicate she should follow him. Settling the children against their mother, she walked to where her father waited. For a moment he said nothing, simply looked her over as if to memorize every bit of her.
"You're a woman grown now," he said softly. She smiled at the pride in his voice. "I don't know where you're off to, but I want you to promise me you'll take care of yourself and be safe." He handed her a wrapped bundle she hadn't noticed in his hand. "This should help keep you that way. If you're ever in any serious trouble, do not hesitate to send word to your old man. I'll be there, no matter what." His voice had gone rough and his eyes misty, and he reached out and snatched her into a fierce embrace. She hugged him back and laid a kiss upon his cheek.
"Lorek, the carriage is coming," her mother called. They turned to see it ambling towards them down the street. Sara had been calm since the messenger left the night before, but now her hearted started to beat a rapid tattoo. This was it, she thought.
Her father squeezed her hand to draw her attention back to him.
"Promise me you'll send word when you arrive and if ever you need anything, anything. Promise?" He waited until she nodded in agreement before releasing her hand. They walked back to her mother and siblings so she could say her final farewells. Tears and hugs and kisses were exchanged, and then she was bundled into the carriage and it pulled away. She waved out the window to her family until they disappeared from sight. Already, there was a heavy ache in her heart.