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Warhammer (CH4)
🕑 Added 2024-07-23 18:34:30 +0000 UTCWhen their class ended, Eli trailed behind Belle and Licia. Their expressions were carefully blank in the manner of not having understood anything, but not wanting to make it known. He felt sorry for them. If he had the mind of a child, there was no way he’d have kept up.
“I doubt we’re expected to remember everything.” He said consolingly. “He didn’t even let us take notes.”
Belle turned to look at him, her pale blue eyes vacant. She and Licia got them from their mother. “A talking tree.” She said, her voice shaking a little. “And a bird. In his… hair.” She raised her hand, pointing.
Eli looked. At some point, a little finch had landed on one of the shrub-like branches sticking from their tutor’s head where he remained in the study. It had come through the window and was now preening, grooming its feathers.
The girls were still struggling to get past all this weirdness. He didn’t blame them, feeling like he was half-dreaming most of the time. “I know.” He said. “But we’ll get used to it.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“Faerie kings and queens. Courts and armies. Gods and goddesses. Heroes and monsters. It doesn’t seem real.” Bee murmured, coming up next to him.
Eli nodded. “I’m struggling to believe it too. But from how that old fellow was explaining it, it didn’t seem like made-up stories.”
Nobody reacted to what he said. For a while, they simply walked in silence, each thinking their own thoughts. Until Licia started sniffing, stopping in her tracks.
“I’m stupid.” She said, her voice trembling. “I can’t even write properly. And books make me feel dizzy.” She looked at them, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not like you guys. They’re going to find out I can’t do it. And they’ll make me leave.”
Belle was the first to console their sister, taking her by the shoulders. “I’m not any smarter than you, Licia. If you go, I’ll… I’ll-…”
“Nobody is going anywhere.” Beatrice said, interrupting. She took their hands. “Don’t let that codger scare you. He’s just strict. The priest was the same.” She said, referring to the parishman from the village. Their parents had paid for lessons when she turned seven, wanting to nurture their clever daughter. “Besides, Eli and I will help you.”
The person in question pointed at his own face. “Me? You do realize I was almost kicked out on the first day, right?”
“You can be smart. When you try.” Bee said amusedly. “Not smarter than me, of course.”
“Of course.” He parroted dryly. He looked at Belle and Licia. “All jokes aside, she’s right. Even if we can’t keep up, I don’t see us being chased off. Most important, I think, is not to cause trouble for… him.” He didn’t say Thalion’s name, nor did he call him their father. He didn’t really know how to refer to the elf.
The twins’ expressions were a mix of relief and uneasiness, while Bee just scowled. Though, she did glance in the direction of the dining hall, where they’d be having lunch in a short while. “I hate this.” She muttered eventually. “We’re being treated like, like-… I don’t know.”
Eli understood her meaning. The luxurious accommodations, clothing, being waited on hand-and-foot by servants, the delicious food—it was like they were being tamed. More than that, it vexed him that it was working. Only three days in, and his walls were already being worn down. He knew he had no reason to refuse any of it, that it’d only benefit them, but neither did they have any other choice. Not sensible ones, at least.
He sighed. “When we’re older… I’m sure things will be different. We’ll be more independent. We won’t need to be looked after.”
Bee made an affirmative noise.
“What are they talking about?” Belle whispered off to the side, glancing at her twin.
Licia shrugged. “I don’t know. But who cares? I’m hungry.”
“Me too. Let’s go have lunch.”
Hooking their arms together, the twins skipped down the intricately-tiled hallway, beckoning over their shoulders. “We’ll start with out you if you don’t hurry.”
Beatrice glanced at them, then at him. She looked a little helpless. “…sometimes, I wish I could bounce back that quickly. Be that carefree.”
“At least they’re feeling better.” Eli replied, offering his arm. For a second, he considered teasing her about being a princess, but decided it was still too soon. “M’lady.”
She giggled, looking like an actual nine-year-old for once. “Why, thank you very much, sir knight.” She said, pinching the corners of her dress. “Will you be having lunch with me?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He said, feeling a bit like an idiot. His voice was very squeaky—not at all like a knight’s—but more than that, he was a lot shorter than her. It made for a comical sight; he was sure. Still, it was a sacrifice worth making to see her smile.
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The days bled into weeks, then months. At first, they had much free time, to be spent however they wished. The siblings could almost always be seen together then, whether that be in the dining hall, during class, playing in the garden in the afternoon or at night, when they slept in the same bed.
However, the number of lessons and their length gradually increased. It was done in such a way for them to acclimate, and presumably also to escape notice. When they realized how few hours remained in the day for them to do as they wished, it was already too late to protest.
Politics. Geography. History. Language. Philosophy and Natural Philosophy. Astrology. Bookkeeping. Painting and dance. Horseback-riding. Fencing and archery. Their studies covered anything and everything a noble-blooded child could ever need to know, and much more besides that.
As the saying went, time flied when one was having fun—or if you were just really, really busy. Though, perhaps that wasn’t the sole reason why the months so quickly turned into years, and the years into more years. This wasn’t the human world. It wasn’t even the same world. A person could travel for miles and miles, tracking down every road and path made by man without ever reaching where they were.
The faerie courts were a place of magic and mystery, where stories became real. Where everything played by different rules—even time. If they were to go back, they might find that little town long-since wiped off the map and their childhood home gone with it. Or perhaps it would be as they left it, with their parents’ bodies still cooling in the living room, blood-stained and glassy-eyed.
Combing her white-blonde hair in the mirror, Beatrice struggled with thoughts of the past. It had already been nine years—her eighteenth birthday was coming up soon—but the events of that night were still fresh in her mind. She would never forgive him for what he did. And yet. And yet…
‘Why won’t he give up?’ She wondered frustratedly. ‘Why does he keep trying?’
No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, some small, repressed part of her couldn’t help feel touched by Thalion’s efforts to close the distance. She’d always push him away, of course. And he would let her. But after a while, a few days, a week or a month, he’d reach out again. And she would retreat. And he would give her the space she needed. And that same dance would repeat over the years.
Sometimes, she’d repay him with as much venom as she could. To get him to stop, once and for all. Whenever she found one of his gifts under her pillow—a piece of jewellery, a new book or a box of candies—she would bring them to him, and she’d rip it apart in front of his eyes. ‘Just leave me alone.’ She’d say.
Her efforts were in vain. Because, he really did care for her. She’d long-since realized that. If he didn't, she'd not have dared act the way she did, knowing she'd always be forgiven. She was his only blood. He had no real family besides her.
There were times when she’d wake up in her study, or in the library—always battling to be the best among the siblings—and find him there. In a chair, paging through a book with his back to her. In times like those, when she’d ignore the blanket that’d been draped over her, she’d feel, just a little, like she cared about him too. But she couldn’t allow that. She couldn’t betray her mom and dad by feeling affection for him, their killer.
“It’s an honor to dance with the High King’s court.” A voice said, shaking her from her thoughts.
Bee looked away from her own reflection, meeting another’s gaze in the mirror. The creature was imp-like, clearly female, and with a lined face. Her name was Derya, a servant in Thalion’s household. Apparently, she’d taken care of her fath-… him when he was a boy, and was now doing the same for his her. Vexingly, Derya was one of the many things he’d had given her that was of too much benefit to refuse.
The imp’s sharp nails pulled at her hair, dabbed at her makeup and fiddled with her dress. “You will be as comely as I can make you. Hopefully, it will bring some glory to the chancellor’s household.”
Beatrice’s lips twitched. She knew what Derya left unsaid—that she, a half-faerie child from a faithless wife—dishonoured Thalion just by existing. And as his servant, it was her duty to lessen that, in whichever small way she could. That Bee disliked being treated that way went unsaid. However, she kept her complaints to herself, because she knew her brother and sisters had it worse.
He might’ve been willing to tolerate his ex-lover’s children, but the same couldn’t be said for the servants. His protection hadn’t entirely shielded them from the faeries’ malice—and both Belle and Eli bore the scars of that. The guilty parties had been punished harshly, but it hardly dissuaded further attempts. The servants somehow got it in their heads that they were doing their master a favour, dirtying their hands so he didn’t have to.
“Perhaps someone will ask for your hand in marriage.” Derya said.
Beatrice pulled a face. “I’m never getting married.” She enunciated every word, meaning it whole-heartedly. Despite herself, she had to admit faerie boys were pretty—incomparable to those she remembered from the human world. However, they were insufferable, with a sense of superiority and self-worth that would put the gods to shame. More than that, she hated the amused looks they directed at her siblings, and to a lesser extent, at her. Like they were looking at monkeys, walking and talking, pretending to be people.
Derya scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. As his heir, it’s your duty to continue the bloodline-…”
“I will not!” She snapped. “If he’s so concerned about it, he should just solve the problem himself.” Nobody mentioned it, but Bee could guess why Thalion hadn’t fathered more children: he still hadn’t gotten over Lily. It was an open secret that he and Morgaine—their stepmother—had no love for each other. Their marriage was one of convenience and mutual benefit.
Eventually, the imp finished her work, having dressed Bee in a gown of embroidered green velvet. Her hair was pulled back, exposing her fine brows and high cheekbones. More importantly, it revealed the sharp tips of her ears—a feature that’d become more pronounced over time. Though she disliked being reminded of the inhuman part of herself, Bee begrudgingly acknowledged Derya’s competence. The person in the mirror was beautiful enough to make her breath hitch.
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Bee got up, striding out of the room. The imp called out from behind, saying they weren’t done yet, but was ignored. Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach, and she needed some fresh air before the ball.
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When Beatrice arrived at the bottom of the golden, leaf-patterned stairs leading to the foyer, she found almost everyone already waiting for her. Morgaine’s black eyes moved, glancing at her wayward stepdaughter, but remained otherwise inscrutable. She wore a feathered black dress that clung to her figure, the tight fabric leaving little to the imagination. Hawke was next to her, cute in his weird little outfit, and now looked like he was around six years old.
Bee gaze latched on to Thalion, standing near the window with a silver cane in his hand. His side-profile was incredibly handsome, with his white-gold hair flowing to the small of his back. He wore something that appeared somewhere between a robe and a suit, with coattails touching the ground. It was the same shade of green as her dress.
She frowned. Undoubtedly, it had been done on purpose, to show off his ‘heir’ to the other high-lords. She had a sudden impulse to run back up to her room, rip it off and tear it to shreds. He knew she didn’t want it—his estates, fortunes titles; none of it. However, it wasn’t something she could refuse just because she wanted to. As his only living relative, everything that belonged to him would be hers eventually.
‘You’re being stupid.’ Some part of her said. ‘All this wealth—you want to throw it away? What’ll happen to you siblings if you do that? Who’ll take care of them? You’re their older sister. Who will they depend on, if not you?’
Bee knew that voice was sensible, so she’d heeded its advice—even if doing so was an enormous struggle. Breathing out slowly, she made her way toward the twins. They smiled and greeted her where they sat, sharing a fancy, ornate couch. They were busy fussing over each other’s outfits. “You two seem excited.” She said with some annoyance.
Licia rolled her eyes. “As are you. Don’t pretend you’re not. Parties are always fun.”
Bee snorted. “What about when that bastard Elric fed you a whole dural fruit? You were so delirious, you danced until the sun rose the next morning. Everyone was pointing and laughing the entire time.”
“That was once.” The brunette said, crossing her arms. “I should’ve been more careful. I learned my lesson.”
“You clearly didn’t. Because you don’t look afraid, or even a little worried.”
“Gosh, learn to live a little, Bee.” Licia said, all but throwing her hands up. “Have some fun for once. You’re almost as bad as he is.”
At the mention of the word ‘he’, Beatrice blinked, giving the room a once-over. She didn’t spot who she was looking for. “Where’s Elias?” She asked, faintly exasperated.
“He won’t be coming.” The smooth, breathy voice belonged to Morgaine.
Beatrice turned her gaze toward her stepmother, brows furrowing. The raven-like woman was still very much a mystery to her. Where did she come from? What was her background? What kind of faerie was she? And if she herself would be inheriting the house, what was the deal between her stepmother and Thalion—the reason for their marriage?
Bee had endless questions, but prime among them was this: why had Morgaine and her little brother grown so close over the years?
She folded her arms, meeting her stepmother’s featureless, black eyes. It still scared her, to be honest, but she’d learned to hide her fear. “And why exactly is that?”
“Because he doesn’t wish to.”
Bee’s lips twisted. “He couldn’t have seen us off?”
“He’s not feeling well.” Morgaine said, maintaining her usual blank mask.
“Is he not feeling well, or does he not wish to? Which is it?” Beatrice asked, her voice rising.
The tall woman turned, gliding across the carpet. She exited through the front door without looking back, the breeze stirring her long, black hair. “Perhaps you should ask him yourself. But don’t take too long. It wouldn’t do to be late.”
Beatrice bristled. Eventually, she shook her head, forcing herself to relax. “It’s fine.” She whispered, barely loud enough for the twins to hear. “He’s never enjoyed balls anyway.”
Licia and Belle exchanged glances. They looked a tad worried—for her, and for Eli. “We’ll sneak out a few things for him. The food’s always delicious.”
She nodded, waiting for her sisters to rise. Together, they walked toward the exit. While the twins looked their sixteen summers, Beatrice knew she didn’t. Her growth had slowed since arriving in the otherworldly Lands of the Ever Young. Another reminder of how she wasn't quite human.
“That’s true.” Beatrice said after a while. “The food’s the only thing that makes this ridiculousness worth putting up with.”
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