I'm very proud of myself for managing to update with a chapter after a few days instead of a whole eternity.
Most would not have been out willingly during that time of day. The sun was furiously hot and bright, and, along with the gritty sands blowing across the landscape and the dearth of clouds, the Saqqara made for an absolutely inhospitable environment.
Validar, of course, was uncaring. The heat was merely a minor nuisance to him, having been born and raised in that same desert.
No, the real issue was whether or not he could expect more of a delay for his vessel's return.
How long had it been since he had last seen her? Five, six years? His last glimpse of her was of a disappointingly scrawny, frightened girl being bundled off and spirited into the night. If Mustafa kept to his usual standards, then Validar could expect to see a strong young woman in her place, and the past few years of waiting would not have to be written off as a total loss.
Life since her birth had been fraught with danger. Shortly after her naming ceremony, one of his apostate wife's crazed followers took a knife to the babe; he was slaughtered on the spot. Someone had almost smuggled poison into her breakfast – since the kitchen was either harbouring the would-be assassin or incompetent enough to miss such a dire threat, everyone and everything from the butcher to the milk was condemned to the pyre. When the slippery bastard agents of the Walled City discovered her and were nearly successful in taking her back with them to their bastard child-king Gangrel, he knew drastic measures had to be taken.
Thus, she was sent away from the base with Mustafa, one of his most seasoned generals, to have her training intensified. She was to be taught to master the arts of combat and self-sufficiency to ensure that she would be far from helpless again. To fully realise her potential as Grima's vessel, it was required of her to have a mind as sharp as a sabre and strength as mighty as a dragon's.
Perhaps, Validar mused fondly, she would even come to surpass her mother on both terms.
He smirked to himself. For all their professed devotion, many members of his flock were content to wait under the shade afforded by the maw of the gigantic skull that housed their settlement. Despite being desert born as well, it seemed they were too delicate for the heat. Save for a few of his inner circle...and Tharja, of course.
Tharja, Validar admitted, was a peculiar case. Her mother Gulnaz had once been one of his wife's ladies-in-waiting; as one of his more devoted followers, the sorceress had been more than willing to play the part of bed warmer when he required it, and was present for the vessel's birth. That self-same devotion compelled her to attempt to strangle the vessel out of jealousy shortly after the girl went through her first monthly bleeding.
Young Tharja was curiously unruffled when her mother's execution was carried out. Her reasoning – that a threat to Grima needed to be removed, and thus merited the woman's death – pleased Validar, and he permitted her to continue to serve the child. The same obsession Gulnaz possessed was present in her daughter. It was wholly directed to her charge, so Validar deemed her harmless enough unless a second pruning of her family branch was needed again.
He ignored the way said woman stroked her luxurious black hair, and the stares of some of the men in favour of the dark shape descending from the sky.
The sole wyvern rider he sent had circled high enough to be mistaken for a lone bird should any nosy capital agents be on the lookout. The scout bowed deeply after he dismounted. "They're not far now, my lord. No trouble to report – they have passed through all the checkpoints undetected."
"Excellent," was Validar's satisfied response.
~oOo~
"Father?"
Mustafa remembered a traumatised, injured girl who had difficulty looking him in the eyes, and who curled inwards like a dead leaf the night Robin had been entrusted to his care. It had taken time to coax her out of her frightened shell –even longer when she became a willful brat who refused instruction on the pretense of her superior status as Grima's vessel. Even then, the defensive glimmer had not left her eyes.
A year had almost passed until that fateful day when bad weather forced them to take refuge in a high mountain cave. By nightfall, conditions had improved and he was guarding the cave's mouth while Robin slept. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed her stumbling out, dishevelled and distressed in the dark, and she had called out to him plaintively in her high, clear voice.
For the first time in many years, Mustafa was taken aback. Her improvised nightshirt hung off a shoulder, and the raggedy toy he had made for her in an attempt to console her night terrors was gripped loosely in one hand.
"What is it child?"
"I had another bad dream."
So he invited her to sit with him and watch the stars race across the sky.
They spent many happy years together. Robin proved to be a quick study and took fast to the weaponry Mustafa instructed her on: by her next growth spurt, she could throw a knife with deadly accuracy while blindfolded. Tomes went from being a tedious chore to her greatest asset. And soon, he was no longer able to knock her flat on her back, having been defeated in what became an impressive winning streak for her.
He made sure to teach her other skills as well: plucking crayfish from rivers without suffering a pinch, which berries were safe to eat and which ones could kill, and how to navigate by starlight. He passed down the knowledge of his father, and his grandfather before them, and thus she was his heir in all but name.
Mustafa loved Robin as though she was his own – a sentiment she reciprocated.
Robin thrived and blossomed in the sun and fresh air. Gone were the darkness and gloom and stale air of the Grimleal hideout. Gone were the nightmares and visions that had plagued her since infancy. Out in the wilderness, there were no fanatical crowds clamouring for her every word; just Mustafa and her, fed by the land's bounty, free to roam its domain. When they found Henry all alone in the woods, the mage was welcomed into their little fold without a second thought. Robin could pretend that the previous years of her life were only another nightmare, that her true place was with a father and a brother. She could dream that she was free.
Reality was not so kind as to grant that wish.
Somehow, a writ found its way to Mustafa's hands during their brief spell in Regna Ferox. It demanded their immediate return to the Saqqara as Robin's 19th year was fast approaching, and its commemoration was to be celebrated amongst the most devout of the flock.
The ugly truth of the Grimleal's presence reignited a fresh wave of terror. She wanted to protest, to argue for an escape, anything to leave the cult behind and continue with their idyllic way of life. Mustafa's hard-set jaw and melancholy gaze told her what she knew before.
They stole away in the dead of night and made the trek under the watchful sight of the stars. The transition from the frigid alpine forest to the arid inner desert furthered Robin's dread; not even Henry's happy chatter was enough to distract her from the threat looming over their heads. Soon, they had the titanic dragon's skull that was the bone field's most prominent feature in their sights, and the walls of Plegia's capital city towering higher still behind it. The slow climb up the promontory began in silence, though Henry, bless him, could not stay quiet for long.
"That a real dragon skull?"
"Yes," Mustafa grunted.
"Cool! Does that mean the rest of the body is underground, or it's just the head? Oh, wait – this is a bone field? Nice! I've been needing fresh stock since Tenmaa – wow, that one over there is really well preserved!"
"Henry," Mustafa warned in his deep voice. "This is the time to be on our best behaviour. You need to be seen and not heard. And Robin has a headache and would appreciate some quiet."
"It's alright," her reply was terse. "He's not drawing attention to us."
"See, Robby's tougher than some old headache," said Henry with his typical cheeriness.
They continued their journey up with Henry's running commentary and the harsh wind being the only sound. Mustafa's worried eyes hardly left Robin, until the crumbling stone ramparts surrounding the skull greeted them ominously.
~oOo~
Triumph outlined every crease on Validar's face as he observed them step up to the dragon's maw. His flock grew restless behind him, several going so far as to prostrate themselves on the sand and mutter prayers when the cloaked travellers approached them.
His arms spread gracefully in welcome and his crisp words carried out clearly over the breeze. "Your return pleases us, Fated One. We have awaited this day with longing, and we have watched the skies for signs of your presence. To have you amongst us again is truly a great blessing."
The clamour grew louder when the travellers removed their hoods.
Validar's smile widened. He always reaped what he sowed, and the fruits of his labour were never less than perfect. Centuries of carefully selected individuals and painstakingly monitored breeding had indeed produced a vessel worthy of Grima: snowy white hair, youthful skin, a curve of the face pleasing to the eye. Not a single mark of disease or deformity marred her perfect form. It was incorrect of him to think of her as his child, for she was the vessel and therefore above him...yet, he could not help but feel proud to see how much she had grown in his absence.
Yes, she had been well-bred, and Validar was more than a little smug that his Lord's return was the product of his seed.
"Your words please us." Robin's voice was soft. "It has been far too long."
Validar's lips almost dropped into a glower.
His flock was too wrapped up in emotion to notice. The lowered eyes, the hushed tone...all unbefitting his Lord's vessel. Where was the confident greeting he had been expecting? The straight spine? Her attitude was suited to a bride, not their fated herald.
He would have a word with Mustafa over this.
"We have prepared a feast in your honour." Validar's steepled fingers and unctuous grace belied his displeasure. "It is only fitting for such a joyous occasion. Allow us to attend to the remaining details as you and your...guest," he said, and his eyes slid over Henry, "change into more appropriate attire."
The dismissal was a moment of rare indulgence. Robin's ill-concealed surprise soured his mood further.
Bowing her head slightly, she murmured, "Your devotion to us is valued." She took her leave in a swirl of bruise-coloured robes; several cult members tried to touch the hem reverently even as they parted for her. Validar did not miss how Robin pulled the boy protectively to her side, and he watched them descend into the darkness of the mouth with Henry babbling all the way down.
"You are all dismissed," Validar announced coolly after a beat of silence.
Cultists began to trickle back into the skull after bowing respectfully. Tharja, who had been watching the proceedings greedily, tried to follow Robin and Henry until Validar clenched her shoulder in an iron grip.
"You are assigned to the kitchens until the day ends," he hissed.
He allowed the annoyed roll of her eyes – occasional acts of insolence on her part were allowed due to her relatively high rank and because he knew Tharja would never actually show defiance.
When she slunk away grudgingly, only Mustafa remained.
Validar faced him with the wind roaring in their ears. Mustafa had changed little throughout the years, grayer but still as tall and muscular as ever. If he feared consequences for dissatisfying his leader then it was not apparent.
He regarded his general intently. "Your lack of correspondence was concerning."
Mustafa was not stupid enough to miss a direct accusation. "It was risky to reestablish contact with our circumstances."
"Oh?"
"A horde of bandits chased us over to Ferox for a good part of the year. Had we attempted to send a missive then it would have been seized and a foreign nation would have been alerted to the Fated One's existence."
"You give those lumbering beasts too much credit. You sound almost fearful of them…"
Mustafa grunted and inclined his head deferentially. "Their borders are more heavily fortified than ever; soldiers are brought and sent over from the Longfort to Labacum on a daily basis. They are now as suspicious of our movements as the Ylisseans, my liege, and exposing her when the Feroxi talk of nothing but skewering members of the faith on lances would have been no less than treason on my part."
Validar was less than satisfied by his answer.
"We have known of their mobilisation for years now...as we should. The question is how you were routed by mere thieves...has her training been for naught?" he whispered silkily.
Mustafa knew to tread very carefully with his next words. "My lady cared for Henry when he fell ill, and she succumbed after our supplies ran out. Facing them would have been suicidal in their state."
Red eyes narrowed venomously. Validar thought back to the boy, looking around with that smarmy little grin of his, stuck to their vessel's side like some parasitic outgrowth...an unknown, unvetted factor completely unworthy of her presence yet acting as though the space beside her belonged to him.
"So I am correct to have thought her behaviour was completely out of sorts, and the boy is responsible."
"My liege –"
"Tell me, Mustafa. How is it you came by him? What can you say to justify a total stranger's entrance to our hidden sanctum? Or exposing Grima's vessel to such a lowly influence…?"
Lesser men would have groveled. Mustafa was wiser and knew standing his ground was the only way to defend his actions.
"We found him some three years before, in the wood north of Ter-Akkhan. He had been brought up in one of the schools of the area before its...untimely closure. He claimed that a she-wolf fostered him with her litter soon after until frightened villagers killed them, and he has been wandering since. We have tested him in combat, logic and survival skills: not only has he demonstrated a remarkable general aptitude in all areas, he specialises in hexes and curse breaking. Our lady has taken a shine to him, and they have proved to show a reliable group dynamic in combat scenarios."
Validar listened while stroking his goatee mutely. Having pointed to his origins at one of the orphanages that doubled as a school had piqued his interest; they were useful inasmuch as they were able to produce young recruits for the faith, so the boy having had previous exposure to the Grimleal was mollifying. And he didrecall a report on one located in Ter-Akkhan having burned to the ground…
"I'll allow it." His robes snapped and fluttered in the wind, "his skill will be useful to the younger acolytes. But I will not have him near our vessel, do you hear?"
"Understood, my liege."
"Good. And do not think that you are free to leave just yet. I am still expecting the rest of her assessment," Validar said as they descended into the skull's darkness.
Since there were no guards in the dungeons, Robin assumed it was free of prisoners as well. Her suspicions proved correct as they moved through the halls, keeping her hand cupped protectively over the spelled flame to avoid the light from travelling too far.
Henry loved the cavernous space, remarking on the darkness, the bones littering the wet floor. Robin kept shushing him even as they squeezed into an alcove for privacy.
Their white hair shone as the little ball of fire hovered over them and Henry looked to her expectantly.
Robin licked her lips nervously. "Remember what Mustafa said? We need to keep it like that, alright?"
He cocked his head quizzically. "What for?"
"Because it's not safe for you here."
"Wait, so we were safer when bears and bandits were trying to kill us?" he giggled loudly.
She clapped a hand over his mouth swiftly. "Henry."
When she removed it, she could see his cheery façade slipped the tiniest bit, with his smile flatter than usual. It pained Robin, to know that her fear was so obvious if it managed to make Henry drop his act.
Smoothing his fringe back softly, she held his hands and delivered her words carefully.
"Henry...there's something I need to tell you. I'm not so sure how to say it so...please, listen closely."
"Pardon me," an oily voice echoed in the gloom.
Robin quickly stifled a despairing groan, and turned to the little pop indicating someone's apparition – an entirely annoying little trick favoured among top-ranking Grimleal within the confines of the base. Ardri, one of the senior men of Validar's inner circle, was accompanied by a hulking guard and had not changed in the slightest since she last saw him: a too-satisfied curl of his lips and the eyes of a snitch that were still evident within the wrinkles of his face. He took in their dirty appearance with relish and gave a simpering little bow to the pair.
"I do apologise for the interruption, but my lord insists that the feasting is to begin soon and your ladies await with more appropriate garb – we prepared a wardrobe for the young one as well. It is a great pleasure to see you returned safely to us, o Fated One." Ardri wrung his ancient hands in apparent supplication.
Robin straightened her spine and adopted an attitude of total indifference, looking down at him coolly.
"I expect that this will not turn out to be an utter disappointment...what a terrible homecoming it would be."
~oOo~
Grimleal halls had the peculiar characteristic of managing to be both brightly lit and shadowy at the same time; the fires in the copper braziers burned fiercely and cast long black shadows that danced and shied away from the feasting multitude.
The most important seats had been reserved for Validar and Robin. An enormous dragon's skull hung from the wall behind them, its head adorned with curled ram's horns and its jaws open in a perpetual roar. Ancient, musty tapestries depicting gruesome rituals and apocalyptic events covered the walls and matched the woven rugs and cushions that seated the cultists and the dishes that broke their usually spartan diets: goat, rice pilafs coloured with saffron and rare delicacies such as candied winefruit and wyvern heartstring. The sombre notes of the liturgical music played daily were replaced by the frantic, gurgling notes of the water flute while dancers dressed in see-through silks entertained.
Henry's dusty travel clothes were traded for the grey and black tunic of Grimleal apprentices –he was seated at the far end of the proceedings. Mustafa had finished eating and had left the generals' middle seating to rotate guard duty with an older subordinate of his. Robin had barely touched her food, but justified it as needing to pay full attention to the goings-on around her. She knew that her performance at the skull's entrance had hardly been stellar, so she became conscientious of the extra effort she had to put into a convincing facsimile of a person raised to be the vessel: poised, cool, and indifferent to her surroundings as though she was above it all. Robin knew that it was more than effective to the congregation since several members came as supplicants: touching the hem of her clothes in awed reverence, begging her for favours and advice, endless compliments and kowtowing, even from those too fearful to do more than stare from a distance.
Validar, on the other hand, was more than pleased. He attributed her initially disappointing appearance to travel-weariness –such were the limitations of her mortal shell – and watched approvingly as she received worshippers from her cushion. Despite the time away, it seemed as though she still fit into the role she was born for. The sway she held over the Grimleal was indisputable. Conversation between Validar and Robin was formal and brief. He too had forgone feasting, as he was completely absorbed by her actions.
His observations turned to pride and satisfaction. Was it not a great show of his wealth and power if he could afford to adorn the vessel in the finest offerings of the Grimleal's coffers? The purple silk and gauze of her dress floated, almost dreamlike, around her frame, cinched by golden belts and tinkling with opals and amethysts. Her heavy golden collar complemented the gold tiara that circled her brow with a fat, teardrop ruby that hung between her eyes. Grima's vessel deserved only the best and, in turn, accentuated the natural elegance of her vestments as only a perfect being like herself could.
Yes, Validar thought. The vessel was the glorious culmination of generations' worth of breeding, and it showed despite her taking more after her dam rather than sire. Her kohl rimmed lids drew attention to finely shaped almond eyes, and the white hair he fondly remembered obscuring her face for most of her childhood was swept back into an elegant and maturely styled braid. It was draped over her collar and drew his eyes up the soft slope of her neck and exposed shoulders.
As he finished admiring Robin's features, he stood and the entire assembly fell silent. Validar raised his golden goblet with all the importance of a stateman's staff.
"Fate has smiled upon us this year. We welcome ten fine, healthy children to our flock; blessed be the wombs that hath nurtured them. Our mages have reported excellent progress with their spell crafting, and our new apprentices have become the first to memorise the entirety of our scripture in less than a decade. Our agents have managed to penetrate every major settlement of the nation and assure me the utmost loyalty from the lowliest chieftain to the highest amir – the only thing standing between us and our rightful dominance is the apostate capital that dares to claim our throne.
Last, yet certainly not least," his voice rang with smug pride, "Grima's vessel has returned to us after six terrible years of yearning. It pleases us to see our Lord's essence carried safely in a strong body deigned worthy of His presence; how it fills us lesser beings with envy, to not be afforded that same privilege!"
Some members of the congregation began to weep at his words.
"With our dearest Aversa entertaining the jesters of the Walled City—" Boos, hissing and laughter echoed throughout, "—we can rest assured that the eyes of the unworthy will dare not set upon our sanctum. Our celebrations shall continue uninterrupted, and the moon shall set on this 19th year of our vessel's existence. In a fortnight's time, Grima will smile upon us all and usher in a new age as has been fated since the beginning of His slumber. That, I guarantee: glory be to Grima!"
Robin recognised the unspoken cue, and rose to lead the hall in prayer. Amidst the rise and fall of collective chanting and undying oaths pledged to their vessel, to him, to Grima, Validar felt more vindicated than he had ever since Robin's birth, certain that his life's labours and the centuries of his predecessors' backing were finally coming to fruition.
~oOo~
Misery ate at Robin's gut as the mass of worshippers filed out of the hall in an orderly fashion. Hands plucked at her gown and bodies grovelled at her feet as she and Validar exited, guards shadowing their steps and clearing out the foyer as those who were lesser ranked were commanded to return to their quarters for the night. Soon the only ones left were Validar, the members of his council, and the silent cadre of handmaidens assigned to her and her chambers.
Gold and rubies glittered on Validar's splendid robes as fiercely as his eyes as he stepped to her with a purposeful smirk stretching his narrow face.
"I sincerely hope this has all been to your approval. Anything less would be more than unacceptable for one of your calibre; if so, do tell me, and I shall work diligently to correct it." Bowing low at the waist and holding out his cape revealed a richly lined interior darker than night.
Swallowing discreetly, Robin surveyed the assembled party with a feigned half-heartedness. It worried her to witness how easily she slipped into the role of their prized possession so effortlessly, as though her years in the outside world had been but an afterthought, that she had been stuck inside the foetid dragon's cadaver all that time. "Better than I had hoped for. It honours me to see such devotion and effort. You have done well by me, and our flock shall be justly rewarded for such attentions." A yawn racked her frame, unbidden. Tamping down her panic, she scrambled for an excuse. "It seems that travel has sapped more of my strength than I thought. I will take leave now; if I am to rise early then I need to rest undisturbed." She made sure to emphasise that last word with a subtle narrowing of her eyes.
The present company all bowed before her. "Of course. I have seen to it personally that not a single one of your effects is out of place. Everything as befit your rightful station," said Validar, dismissing his councillors with a lazy flick of the wrist, and a snap of his long fingers sent a maiden fetching a torch for him. A sudden downturn of his brow alerted her, too late, of the sharply shaped nail tracing a path from her cheek and brushing a stray hair gently past her lobe and back to its spot behind her ear.
Validar's carefully positioned smile returned and Robin fought the urge to shiver.
"All perfect," he whispered. "I bid you a good night's rest. We shall meet with the council after dawn."
As though he were a chilling midnight breeze, he swept out of the foyer with a woosh of robes that left the area darker and colder after his departure. Robin stared dumbly at the spot where Validar stood until she snapped out of her reverie and began to make her way to her quarters. Her servants trailed after mutely, bearing long crimson candles that wept bloody wax and gave their faces a gaunt glow.
Deeper and deeper they travelled into the earth, winding through several dark passageways. After passing through a particularly complex and confusing set of doors, Robin was able to give her attendants the slip after she sent her spelled fire some ways before her as though she had grown impatient with them. Watching carefully to see that the last girl picked up the pace and trailed behind the rest, she waited a few tense seconds before she slunk into a storage alcove. She reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out the diminutive white mouse that had waited diligently until she was alone, watching its stubby limbs stretch grotesquely until Henry's transformation was complete and he blinked at her with his human eyes in the low light.
"Nipping me is in poor taste," Robin remarked tiredly.
"Yeah, but I have something I gotta show you. When I was sitting down for the feast this old man next to the apprentices said he knows you. He looked really ancient! He's got this really long beard and more wrinkles than that Ardri person you told me about…"
She allowed Henry to lead the way, surprised yet pleased that he seemed to have a remarkably good grasp on the bearings of the Grimleal base. Genuine pleasure bloomed in her enervated body when the rosy glow of torchlight revealed a decidedly elderly figure waiting patiently for their arrival.
"Noam!" she threw her arms around him, mindful of the torch held in his weak grip — Henry made himself useful and took it from him, steadying the light's shakiness.
"It has been too long, my child." The doctor's voice had cracked and dried over the years, his beard had turned as white as her hair, and she saw how heavily he leaned on the simple walking stick he now used. "I cannot tell you how much joy it brings me to hear your voice after all this time," Noam quaked as though from ague. "Come, let me see how much you've grown."
Kneeling carefully before him, Robin helped position his spotted hands over her face; he was careful not to smudge her makeup as his fingers moved softly over her eyes, tracing the shape of her nose, pinching her cheeks affectionately and tweaking her shoulders. Delight infused every movement of his, and Robin was overjoyed to be reunited with her former tutor.
"You have grown so strong and tall, love. So pretty too! Have you had to fight off many suitors while away? Or is this strapping young man suitable enough?" Much laughter was shared as she smacked Noam's chest playfully and Henry's giggling threatened to tip over the low-burning torch.
The mood took a more sombre turn, as did the physician's memories. Tears leaked out of his milk-white eyes as he drew his hand across her face once more.
"You truly are your mother's daughter. She would have been so proud to see you now...alive and well and so accomplished. Robert and her. I cannot deny how your presence brings me such joy, and yet...you do not belong here, love. Your rightful place is in the sun and enjoying the world's bounty. Not shackled to its burdens. You do not deserve such a fate."
Despite not having been being spared the details of her mother's (and her mother's lover's) life while with Mustafa, hearing of them always brought Robin pain. She had Mustafa and Henry and Noam, yes, but to think! A mother and father who would have loved her had they survived, a mother and father to give her a home and siblings and a birthright.
A birthright to call her own and not having to fulfill a prophecy of death and decay simply because it was foretold before her time.
Such longing always filled her mouth with iron. Shame always followed. How could she think of entertaining such fantasies, Robin wondered, and not preoccupy herself with the very real, very tangible beings standing before her? She was not indebted to phantoms. She was not raised by dreams nor fantasies of people. And yet, she could not help but dream and feel such a yearning.
Robin was brought back to reality by the feeling of Noam pushing something into her hand. It was a square of parchment with fuzzy frayed edges, as though it had been carefully opened and folded several times over.
"Keep it close to you. Only read it when you are alone: I fear the consequences should Validar find it," he warned.
She nodded, once, twice, and, fearfully conscious of the late hour, kissed his bald pate in farewell. Henry stole after her into the dark earthen corridors, leaving the warmth of the torch behind in the doctor's hand.
She arrived to her quarters' doorway with her usual feigned nonchalance. Her maidens stood obediently in waiting, as though she had never left them, and followed her inside. A few others were already preparing her rooms for the night, fluffing pillows and lighting gently scented incense to aid her sleep.
Tharja was the real surprise. The sorceress sat curled in the vanity's wicker seat like a satisfied, satin-draped panther. Her secretive smile widened, and she ceded her position to Robin. The latter said nothing as her accessories were removed and laid gently on the sideboard, as alcohol was rubbed tenderly into her skin to remove her makeup. Worst of all was feeling the comb's passes through her hair and Tharja's spidery hands following it, making sure to unravel every snarl and tangle found, lovingly braiding the snowy tresses and then perching her chin on Robin's shoulder. Doesn't that feel better? she asked with that smile of hers. Robin brought herself to nod mutely and yet somehow found the strength to decline Tharja's offers to assist her disrobing.
The cotton of her nightgown breathed easily. She could not let herself sleep until she was sure that the sorceress — who slept at Robin's feet on silken cushions — had stopped staring at her with those beetle-black eyes. The parchment she had hidden in her bosom was secreted into a hole kept safely within her bedframe, under her mattress, and stoppered with the chunk of wood she had painstakingly carved out in her youth to make the hole. Henry was much more patient. He waited until even she was half-awake, and crawled out of her dress to sit by her pillow to the tune of a few quiet snores; his little mouse ears swivelled to and fro with each breath.
She could hardly bring herself to look at him. Looking around at her old room brought back some of the worst memories. She could tell that, despite the change to adult-sized accoutrements, it had hardly changed. It was effectively a tomb, she reasoned, resurrecting things that were better left forgotten and yet were preserved in all their dusty, subterranean glory to laugh in her face and remind her that she was trapped again. Robin missed camping with the starry skies. She missed the delicious scent from the cook-fires dying down after supper and hugging the toys Mustafa made for her to sleep with. She missed the scary stories Henry would tell, and giggling naughtily together when Mustafa would scold them for staying up late. There would be no more rising with the sun again. How could she? They were closer to the rotting dead than they were the heavens.
"You alright?" Henry's whispery whiskers tickled her ear.
"No," she replied. After a pregnant pause spent staring at the wall, Robin continued. "I never wanted you to find out. I'm so sorry Henry…"
"For what?"
"For...being this."
"You mean the harbinger of the end times and the devourer of the sun and moon? The wings of despair and the breath of ruin? The Lord of boring prayers I had to write down a couple thousand times when I was still at that dumb school?" The practiced flippancy of his response was highly reassuring, but not enough to stop the tears pricking her eyes. Henry's now-human hand closed over hers as he curled around her back and stroked her hair with all the affection he could muster. He was never the best at expressing himself, Robin knew, but choosing to discard his cheery mask for her sake proved how fiercely his devotion ran.
"You're still you, Robby. Those geezer scholars don't know what they're talking about because the lack of sun turned their brains to mush. Validar doesn't know what he's talking about because he's too busy being a gigantic creep issuing dumb orders. Maybe I could buy it if you were bloodthirsty enough, but who're we kidding? I'd make a better death god. I should just take over this whole place, you know? I'll be Grima, and I'll dub you my lieutenant so we can turn this whole place to bone, and we can have all the skeletons we want to experiment on!"
To hear him speak such heresy so casually, to blaspheme in her name and reject all that he had been taught for most of his life in a show of his loyalty was a relief and deeply touching. Both were crimes worthy of execution, but in the dark of the night she thanked him for it and turned to hug him as tightly as she could and bury her face in the crook of his neck.
The bed began to creak ominously under their movements.
"Shhh." Robin held her breath as Tharja stirred sleepily. One beat, two beats, three beats, and her body stilled in the throes of slumber. Robin and Henry sighed quietly and the friends squeezed their hands in relief.
"Go to sleep Henry. It's going to be a very long day tomorrow." An eternity, she did not add, as Henry crawled up the wall in a scarab's form and reemerged, very much human again, at the highest point of the rafters. He settled down in a shadowed corner and waved goodnight to her before draping his dusty lavender cape over him. Soon, he was snoring just as deeply as the women below; Robin envied how easily sleep found him, and failed several times over long after she had blown her meagre candle out.
When sleep finally claimed her exhausted form, it was fitful and far from restful. The same dream plagued her thoughts like a monstrous running commentary: a pitifully thin songbird, trapped in a corner by an immense serpent. The ending was always the same too, as the wretched creature could not fly away and was always snatched up into the beast's gullet, down, down, down.
Henry is the best 'lil bro and he is quickly becoming a favourite of mine after a long period of being indifferent to him after playing Awakening. Also, formatting on fanfiction sites for posting is an absolute bitch.
Hopefully I'll be able to have another update up soon! As usual, this work could not have been achieved without the help of the wonderful Ellisama/ingrimasname and newmrsdewinter/mairbelles, two amazing betas with equally amazing fics of their own that I urge you to read: The Forbidden Kingdom and Glass Slipper. Enjoy your weekend! (I know I won't because I'm going back to school on Monday, haha...)