FINALY, an update! Yay! I apologize for the Silas/Anaya thing, but thought it added a base to this chapter. I hope you enjoy!
"Silas, is something wrong? You are awfully quiet." Anaya asked, looking at the young man in worry, the pair sitting upon a stone bench in the courtyard, watching the trees turn to colors of fire.
"I am fine, my lady. You do not need to worry about me." Silas replied, Anaya shaking her head.
"I have told you a hundred times you do not have to act so formal." Anaya stated, Silas glancing to her briefly.
"Prying eyes, my lady. Prying eyes." Silas reasoned, steel eyes glancing to a young man nearby, the young prince glancing towards them every so often when he thought Silas was not aware, "He fancies you."
"I do not know why. Anora is far better than I." Anaya commented, Silas almost scoffing.
"Your cousin is like a screaming banshee with a siren's seduction." Silas replied, Anaya laughing, face slightly flushed from the cooling wind.
"That is very true, unfortunately. I feel bad for Prince Richard. I wonder why he has not gone back to France yet?"
"Because he fancies you." Silas stated once more, watching the leaves fall and dance in the wind, like flame caught in a breeze, "Would you wish me to leave, my lady? It appeared that he wishes to speak to you."
"No, stay. If he wishes to speak to me you can be at my side. Alas, I think he is fearful of you." Anaya grinned, teasing playfully.
"Fearful of me? My Duchess, with all due respect, I believe it is you that he fears. It is undoubtedly due to the fact that he has heard the horrors of your iron rule."
"You jest!" Anaya replied, giggling gently as she breathed softly, suddenly, feeling the cool air chill her very core. Yet despite the cold of the air, she smiled, "I love autumn. It reminds me of you." Anaya spoke, after a slight pause.
"Me?" Silas asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked upon the woman, her lips slightly chapped from the quickly approaching cold, brown hair disheveled from the growing wind with her nose and cheeks flushing red. Her eyes, however, shown with warmth, as if they were the womb of the sea, cradling her young with a constant, soothing lullaby.
"Yes, you." Anaya replied, smiling, as if embarrassed as her blue orbs locked onto his steel, distant and alert, yet near and dull. His face showed no sign of flushing to the colder temperatures, and no bumps formed upon his skin like they formed on Anaya's more tender flesh. Whatever blemishes may be on the man's face, she could find none save for a gentle scar that could easily blend on the knight's face, which had been made as a result of grooming. The stubble was almost completely shaved to his flesh.
Silas said nothing as he awaited his Duchess' reasoning, eyes occasionally glancing away-as if looking for something-yet they always returned to her, raw emotion swirling just underneath the encasing steel. At first glance, it would appear as if the man lacked any form of emotion within his eyes-his gaze logical and calculating, always aware. Yet, if one looked hard enough, and took the time to study the young man, they could see the emotion that steel could contain.
"It is just...you share much in common with the trees, when their leaves fall. It is like you express your emotions only briefly, swiftly, like the leaves changing color before falling from the branches until they become bare. Like the tree hides anything beautiful and fragile within itself, like you mask your emotions, only leaving hard bark on the outside. Why don't you show your emotions more, Silas? They're strong and beautiful, like the falling leaves. Why do you hide them?" Anaya asked, Silas' steel eyes looking at her, the coldness juxtaposing her warmth.
"With all due respect, my' lady, my duty and loyalty lies in you. Any emotional turmoil from me can compromise your image." Silas stated.
"I do not care if my image is soiled. I want to see and experience what you feel. I want my dear friend back, Silas. I want you back." Anaya replied softly, placing a hand on his own.
"I feel as if...as if we are growing apart. I try so hard to speak with you, yet even though I know you listen I feel as if you are not...there. As if you and I are...not connecting anymore, because you do not fully express yourself, as if something is in the way." Silas said nothing but at he stared at her hand, fragile and cold from the chill of the wind.
"I remember when you and I were children, and you used to be so happy, always smiling. What happened, Silas? What made you change? Are you not happy?" Anaya asked, Silas feeling her hand shake and tremble as he placed his own hand above hers, enveloping her hand and warmth and he looked into her eyes, tears hugging her lashes. Briefly, his eyes softened, and his thumb brushed against her hand, interlocking.
"I am happy, Anaya. Do not doubt that. Never doubt that." Silas responded softly, voice sounding like the soft whoosh of the fall wind, gentle, yet powerful.
"Then how can I tell if you do not show it? What happened to the boy I fell in love with, Silas?" Anaya asked, feeling the callousness of his hands rub against her own, rough, like the wood of a tree.
The knight breathed out, eyes looking at their hands intertwined, "That boy turned into a man, Anaya." Silas replied, gaze moving to her frostbitten orbs.
"But that does not matter. Boy or man, you still have my love." Anaya replied, touching his cheek, frigid fingers gently running over the man's warm jawline, "I just wish I could see you happier."
"How can I be happy as of now when you are so cold? A rose cannot survive the harsh winter months." Silas spoke gently, feeling the wind die down as the leaves clicked and clacked upon rolling on the cobblestone floor.
"A rose?" Anaya asked, greater flush masked by the red of the cold.
"A rose blooming in spring, yes. You are so...beautiful, and strong, and graceful yet...impossible to touch lest one is cut by your thorns, and destroys what is most fragile. Yet, despite your beauty and grace, you never fully bloom and allow your emotions to fully arise. You speak of me hiding my emotions, yet when you release them they are controlled. Why is that, Anaya? Answer me that." Silas ordered softly, yet firmly, lifting her chin as her frozen eyes stared into his steel.
"Because on those uncontrollable occasions is when my heart is truly touched. Only then, does my rose bloom, and spring turns to summer." Anaya replied, smiling despite the cold as Silas produced a breathless chuckle, cold steel gone as his forehead rested upon hers, noses touching.
"I love autumn." Anaya replied, giggling as she felt their fingers interlace. I love you.
"And I love spring." Silas replied, breath slightly visible as he breathed. And I love you.
Silas snapped his eyes back into focus, the fire crackling and popping as he sat there, zoning out. Several of the men were gathered around the flame as well in the night air, Ember curled up a ball, head resting on Silas' lap as she snored. Some of the men have taken a liking to Arias and Seraphina, watching them play and were feeding them scraps of dried meat, two were even trying to get the chicks to do tricks, as if they were dogs. The chicks didn't mind though. It was obvious they just wanted the food, and were happy to have new playmates.
Silas looked upon Ember, seeing the wetness on her face from drying tears. He didn't mind her crying, no. Everyone needed to cry now and then, but he found himself drifting back to his waking dream, his memory. He had no doubt Ember was summer.
Silas thought about the pink dragoness, and that only confirmed his reasoning. She was a bit shy at first, and gentle, like the sun shining upon the earth and the wind blowing gently, dispersing the flower petals into the air with care, as if the wind was Ember looking after the chicks. Yet, despite the initial shyness, Ember could explode with passion and fury, like the wrath of a summer storm with roaring thunder and pounding rain. She had no problem expressing her emotions.
Steel eyes made their way to Arias and Seraphina playing, Silas finding himself thinking about Cynder, and what her season could possibly be. His thoughts slowly shifted to Spyro, wondering what his season may have been before Cynder's death. For now, it certainly was winter.
Like ice, trapped within himself and numb from his true feelings, Silas could see Spyro was not Spyro. Silas wondered if Spyro had been fall, and Cynder had been his spring, complete opposites yet coexisting peacefully, until his spring, possibly his summer, had faded, turning Spyro's world into constant bitterness. If that had happened, Silas found himself horrified that he could just as easily had ended up like Spyro himself, who had lost his hope and faith in everything, and wanted to seek death and vengeance.
Silas frowned. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't feel anger towards the purple male anymore. All he could feel was pity, for in reality both were going through the same pain. The only difference was the other was heading down a road to self destruction and barren fruits. Perhaps he just needed a light to guide him through his eternal winter and into spring?
Silas got up, trying not to disturb Ember too much as he walked towards the area where Spyro was held in chains, his heavy footfalls alerting the dragon to his presence, who struggled to look towards him.
"Is he dead?" Spyro asked after a moment of silence, Silas' footfalls pausing before continuing slowly.
"No. He is fine for now." Silas replied, swearing he heard Spyro sigh.
"Then what are you doing here if you aren't going to kill me?" Spyro asked, pupils locked onto the man as he entered his sight.
"Promise me something, dragon. Promise me that if I free you...you will heal my cousin...you will heal him and then you shall take Berend, Ember and your children and leave before we go to battle tomorrow." Silas spoke, Spyro's eyes widening, shocked.
"You would trust me? After all I did to you? To your people?" Spyro asked, Silas jingling the iron key in his hand.
"You are the only one strong enough to protect them, despite your faults. Will you?"
"How do you know I will not fly away then or attack you?" Spyro asked, Silas looking away briefly before looking back at the dragon.
"Then you will have gotten what you wanted." Silas replied, Spyro pausing in thought. He could hear the darkness within him fight, tell him to kill the one that caused him so much pain, the darker side of him. Yet, he immediately thought to what Baldwin said. He needed to act as an example to his children. He needed to teach them right from wrong.
"I will. I promise." Spyro replied, Silas approaching and slowly unlocking all the chains, Spyro feeling them fall off him like dead weight as he struggled to rise, his wounds many, "Thank you."
"You are welcome." Silas replied, both unmoving, as if watching the other for any kind of trickery, yet upon finding nothing happening for several minutes, the pair relaxed.
"She forgives you, Silas. Cynder forgives you." Spyro replied, Silas looking at the purple dragon, almost quizzically.
"I am relieved." Silas stated, Spyro stretching his stiff limbs before asking a simple question, "Why?"
Silas paused slightly, as if thinking, "Because every winter must give way to spring."
Writing this little section with Silas and Anaya made me remember a dream where they had a little boy together that looked like Silas. I keep FORGETTING to add it in somewhere-even as a dream. Oh well. I might never put it in. But I'm glad Spyro and Silas are somewhat cooperating. Once again thank you everyone who is supporting this story! Please give me your input! :)