Title: Unrepentant Hopes Chapter 1 (Novelization First Draft)
Rating: (PG-13)
Content Notes:
No paragraph indentations due to Dreamwidth limitations.
Please everyone, take a moment and give it a read and comment! Constructive Criticism only!
I have been working on this Chapter for literal years, my perfectionism is downright awful and I needed to finish this and put it out there so I can’t fiddle with it anymore. This Chapter is very much setting up the book for this Character POV. Inter-meshing past events and current circumstances.
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One
Nathanael
I was nine years old when I was told I would die. But I did not understand. Death was not so easily comprehensible by a child who had not previously witnessed death or trauma and had been raised apart from society. The very closest thing I could recall was the withering of a flower, and yet new buds always grew, so what was the permanency of death? I had been protected from life and all its unpleasant realities so how could anyone expect me to understand? Due to this upbringing, the concept of dying was foreign to me, but the worried clutching of arms at my frail waist had my attention as I listened.
“Without repairing his failing organs there is nothing further that can be done,” the words were whispered by the only woman in the silent room, who held her black shawl closed with one hand and watched with impassive teal eyes once her words were spoken.
“You realize their Majesties will never stoop to the profane practices of opening the body with shadow?” The High Caster kept his eyes on the far wall not even looking at the Myrael as he demeaned not only Milistree but her people and their practices. “The Prince is more man then Ellearn, he is Reinn Anon’s child and they will not be cut open, like animals to the slaughter. What then is to separate us from those of the darkness that sacrifice their weakest and youngest to the knife?”
No. This was not a viable choice. To lose the spirit; the sacred breath given by Reinn Anon, Lord of Holy Light and Storms in the beginnings was no life at all. It was a fate worse than death to let loose the sacred light locked within the shell. My parents would never allow it.
An ear that far more resembled a crumpled autumn leaf flicked as the Ellearn woman looked to the High Caster but no words came to defend herself, only the heat of her eyes upon his skin. “Then there is nothing more that can be done,” Lady Milistree repeated and the words seeped into the bones as though hope had all but fled.
“Nothing?” the gravelly voice asked of the man that grasped me as though I would up and disappear.
Milistree shook her head of dark auburn curls and she fidgeted where she stood in her crushed velvet black gown, “He has only been weakened Sir Atrious, the magic’s have done nothing, his lungs fail and it shall not be long before they fill with his fluids. To touch his skin pushes blood to the surface in bruising, and fatigue leads to fevers and chills. I have not seen these symptoms myself but I trust the records given by their Majesties, you and High Castor Gwynafor.” The Shadow Ellearn sighed and her fingers curled against her side into a fist.
“There will be no miracle cure, no spell that could save him now. If surgery is not an option then all that can be done is give him the rest his body aches for and make him comfortable in the days to come.”
Peering up at Sir Atrious with confusion filled eyes, the brunette knight nodded gravely at the news that was being told to us both. I wanted to understand what was upsetting the knight that was as close to me as my own parents and had always been part of my life as long as I could remember. My memory was long and uncommon in its detail. But that detail was only after the fevers, I had little recollection of before the dreams, only the stories I had been told of the past. Atrious’s sword roughened fingers stroked my bald head, thumb lightly caressing the bare skin and much like a cat I leaned into the touch seeking the comfort of his presence until such a time as all of this would be explained to me. I was in conflict, I understood many things from my reading but yet I was woefully unprepared for this because of the sheltering of my youth.
The sadness in the room was becoming suffocating, palpable, rolling off the clerics whose hands were wringing before them, the High Castor whose brow was tensely furrowed, Milistree in her frustration and of course Sir Atrious. All but Milistree and uncle Gwynfor were human; they did not know that their feelings traveled the currents and I could feel the crushing of their empathy inside of my heart. Tears were springing to my eyes and I did not know why what was happening? Why was everyone so sad? My sniffles triggered a change in the room, and the emotions were cut off from me, Atrious clutched me tighter and a soft squeak left me as the air was forced out of my failing lungs.
“Their Majesties are in a meeting,” The High Caster, my uncle spoke off hand, arms crossed before chest in his dark blue robes.
“They will have to be told,” one of the clerics looked between Atrious and Gwynfor and I took in a few faltering breaths.
A once wringing cleric’s hand lay against my back and the white magic pooled on my skin, sliding down under my clothes. The weight lifted from my lungs and I took in a few gulping breaths of deep air, I knew it wouldn’t last. The magic only made the pain go away for a little while but I would savor the few minutes of being able to breathe deeply and fully.
“I will express sympathies to their Majesties,” the older cleric stepped forward but Atrious’s arm moved from around my waist.
“Nay, I will tell them. As a Commandant of the Sovereign Guard, it is my place to tell them of this. I will take Prince Nathanael and await them outside of the council room.”
“Are you certain you wish to do this alone?” Gwynfor pushed his sleeves up his arms to stay out the way and made no attempt to move.
Milistree shook her head, “The King and Queen cannot keep the illness secret much longer. With the fevers six years ago and the hiding of the prince, the people already suspected. Rumors have spread and the people are beginning to fully realize that once again that the Camarian Empire will have no heir.”
“Yes, I will tell them myself,” Sir Atrious looked from Gwynfor to Milistree, “I do not wish this news to spread quicker than my liege wills it too. It is their choice how slowly or quickly the court will know of these matters. Having the High Caster; the Menel diplomat, a Commandant of the Sovereign Guard, the King, Queen, and Prince all present would create even more talk. Go back to your duties, and do not let this distract you from each of your purposes,” Atrious inclined his head in respect to those present as he passed his orders on.
Each bowed in response to Atrious’s words and began to file out. I blinked at them and then back to the Knight who held me, the smile on roughened features sad. My confusion remained and I wished someone would explain to me! But I knew this was not the time to ask, not yet, maybe my parents could tell me and my fingers clutched at Sir Atrious’s shirt. Picked up in strong arms I clung, as, although I was nine, I would later learn I was very small for my age. The illness and the cabin had stunted my growth as I saw very little of the sun. I had become afraid of the sky.
One of the clerics opened the door allowing us to pass through into the hallway. I looked from Atrious to Gwynfor my eyes wide and confused, unknowing and afraid. Gwynfor stroked my cheek with his thumb in a quick move of comfort before he moved down the opposite hall away from us. Next, there was Milistree who I did not know, I had never met her before this day and her teal eyes were filled with sorrow and what I would come to understand was regret. Just a shake of her head and she turned away, I watched them both go with a growing sense of tribulation.
“Lord Riq’ua,” Sir Atrious gave a half resembled bow, unable to bow fully with me in his arms as I clutched him tighter.
“Sir Atrious, what of the boy?”
Riq’ua had his arms crossed over his light grey robed chest, his silver hair a curtain behind his back, aqua eyes firm and fathomless. I did not know who he was then; I hardly was allowed to come to the capitol. There were too many people about, I could get lost, and I could get hurt or worse I could become iller…So many reasons, so many excuses for my growing up nearly alone. I did not know I was missing experiences in life, how could I? I yearned to see my parents, was in joy when I was able, and curious at the experiences of new places when I was at last allowed to see more of my parent’s Empire. On my fingers, I could count the number of times I had seen the royal castle, and when I had, I had not met many people.
“I must explain to his parents My Lord, they have to know of the grave news,” once more I squeaked as I was clutched all the closer at the words, still not understanding and still distressed.
“Atrious?” I spoke aloud at last; my icy blues remaining tear-filled and hands grasping at his shirt. I was ignorant, unknowing of what they spoke of with such ambiguity. All I wanted was answers!
Brown eyes looked down at me, my fingers in play with the beard that was scratchy and comforting familiarity, when Atrious kissed my forehead.
“I will explain soon,” he answered me and my eyes dropped curling against his chest again, Riq’ua pushed away from the wall to lead the way down the hallway. Feeling chastised I remained quiet and watched as nobles passed us as we walked, the vibrant colors of the dresses and doublets mesmerizing me enough for my thoughts to wander…
~*~
My birth was four years in the waiting, years of my parents being pressured by outward forces to have an heir, a growing fear by the councilors and my parents that my mother was barren. With the refusal to give up trying, there was a celebration when the news was heard and anticipation grew until the heir’s birth. After such trials to see me into the world my parents named me Nathanael Peter Quele, as to them I truly was a gift from the Gods.
I was born on Nn'harsal 6th 1982 Judicium, the sixth day of the sixth month in the fourth year of the Age of Judgement. That autumn day was also the day I was wed, an arrangement with Prince Thom Antsrev Royale who would become my best friend as I grew and the sibling I never had. Peace talks with the southern empire of Royale, the enemy of Cama’ra for almost two millennia, had begun months earlier. My mother was staunch in her wishes for peace with the south and my father with firm hatred of the south held his ground against her. The problem of the south-lands was the first issue my parents never truly saw eye to eye upon.
There was substantial proof that Talkran Royale, the uncle of the current ruler of the Imperial Royalian Empire had murdered both of Peter’s parents when he was only seven. Due to this, my Father’s hatred was personal. Elaina held that war could not be fought because of private vendetta where so many lives could potentially be lost. The elder son of the Emperor of Royale by a courtesan, Drefan Robert Royale, had been promoting diplomatic relations and after extensive talks, a contract was written. My father refused to sign the document until the day I entered the world and even then it was with great reluctance.
Yet my father respected my mother; more then he respected any other non-Divine. He had told me of that admiration and respect he had for her since the day they had met when Prince Peter Quele was being punished for a rash prank played during mid-day mass. My mother, Lady Elaina Laurent had initially laughed at the chaotic panic that the loosed bat had caused. But she would notice the frantic movements of the nocturnal creature; so Elaina grabbed for the furry body and guarded the tiny form as she ran out of the church, away from flailing arms and a mass of hysterical bodies.
Peter had not thought about the bat getting hurt in the process of his trick and my Mother’s first words to him were a scolding for what could have happened to the creature. Realizing after the fact what could have happened Peter’s eyes had grown wet with tears and Elaina’s reprimand struck him far deeper than the Arch-Deacon’s punishment. My father had always pulled such pranks; it was his ten-year-old way to get the attention he craved as an orphaned child left to the Court to care for. But it would be Elaina who would think of the consequences of the actions Peter would take and it was she who tempered his youthful play with mature vision.
Peter had visibly flinched then, suddenly worried for the safety of the little animal, of which Elaina quickly reassured him, was alright. My Mother took up another scrub-brush and knelt beside my Father to assist in his ‘lenient’ punishment of scrubbing the entire parish floor for the disruption of Our Lord Reinn Anon’s chapel service. The Noble family that had fostered Elaina for the winter season reprimanded her when they arrived for her unladylike behavior as she had pulled up her skirts and shown her bloomers to kneel. Peter could only wave a hasty goodbye as Elaina and her foster family swept out of the Basilica.
Both my mother, Lady Elaina and my father, Prince Peter were orphaned by the Dirian War and raised by the Court; given momentary lodging, false warmth and then gifted and re-gifted at each season’s end. Ultimately the two strays were deemed inconvenient and always underfoot. They met a second time at a Fair where a hunt was underway. Elaina was a natural on horseback and with a bow, whereas the crown prince was not nearly so. My Mother allowed Peter the kill and he rewarded her with a toothy smile which would make her laugh.
Solace was found for them in each other’s company during adolescent years when nothing could ever go right. Peter confided in her the ghost that haunted him, “His Eminence always reminds me of my Hara’s honor and that he died a War Hero. He does not have to remind me, Elaina! I dream of Joscelin, he who was ‘The Blade Dancing King’, whereas I am just a joker, a trickster, and a clown.”
Elaina gripped my Father’s shoulders, “You’re not just any one thing, never just anything one thing, Peter.” She shook her head, “You’re honorable and you will be a good King, but you cannot live under your parent’s shadow when you hardly ever knew him.”
Time spent side by side in freedom and in the bonds of courtly etiquette, Elaina fell in love with my soon to be Father years before he with her. She taught him to kiss and lied for him the night’s he met with his young Lords. Peter trusted her with the knowledge of his certainty in that the court would make of him a Puppet King when he was crowned and she always reassured him in his strength.
The coronation followed far too quickly, and the event was not free of drama. Men and women flocked to Peter’s side as the newly crowned King and he could not with good grace excuse himself to make his way to Elaina’s side. There were only wistful glances her way and later apologies. Elaina alone against a far wall finally gave up and made her way to bed trying not to feel hurt, to just feel pride and happiness for him. She had to continue to wear the smile she always had before when Elaina covered for Peter’s rendezvous and wished above all for his joy.
It was with the knowledge that she loved him enough to do anything for him that she greeted Peter at her doorstep that same night far after midnight. My Father stood in the hall tired and upset at his inability to speak to her the entire evening, sick at heart about the people who just wished to get close to him because of his newly acquired status. My mother had pulled him into her arms without a second thought and he had gripped her nightgown, holding her tightly.
“Marry me, be my Queen Elaina. I need you, my Kingdom needs you, and the people need you.”
Elaina had stiffened with surprise at the words she had never thought to hear from him and pulled back to fix upon his blue eyes her own, asking in silence for the validity of his request. Peter gave a grave nod, hands gripping her shoulders.
“I cannot do this without you. You know that. I am trying, but I am no King, not like you are,” Peter gave a self-condemning smile. “I really mean it, though. I do Elaina. I need yo-“Elaina cut him off pulling him into a teary-eyed hug.
“Yes.”
A kiss was dropped to Peter’s brow, his cheeks, and his lips as my mother accepted his proposal with the realization that she would marry a man who could never love her the way she loved him.
“Yes.”
~*~
We take the world we come into for granted, for what the world is truly meant to be. Our family is our own vision of perfection because we have nothing to compare it too. When our eschewed view of perfectness is cracked or shattered is when we have to face the truth. My reality was the fact that I was not strong and nor would I ever be. I can hardly remember a time before the fevers took me away into dreams, a time when I was able-bodied. People speak of many different kinds of strength, so what was it then? Was it a concept of the mind, the body or the soul? All I knew was that I lacked at least one of those things.
My health was short-lived, and my physically fragile nature would be the cause of endless worry. Such peace that my parents had known from the birth of their coveted heir passed because you see, the fevers came for me when I was three. They took me away, my reality turning to dreams, twisted scenes that I could not rise from. My mind was deep in the realms of cracking’s and breakings, the illusions before my eyes not restful like Ellearn meditation. These sights were not a child’s faerie tales and they aged me in both body and mind.
It had taken my parents four years to conceive me, their only heir, hopes, and dreams upon shoulders that could not bear their weight. My illness strained the bonds that held my parents close, arguments breaking out on how best to care for me, and depression was tangible in the castle. Peter had to face the council alone as my mother sat day and night by my side. His lack of confidence only compiled the lists of responsibilities and the worry that gnawed at him when he was away from my mother and me.
The weight was too heavy and my father had fallen to his knees before Reinn Anon, our blessed Lord, God of Light, Angels and the Storms. My father was not a seriously religious man, consequently why he played pranks in the Rex Lucis in Altis Dominus Basilica and had always had authority issues with His Eminence the Arch-Deacon, Lefton Udell who was his primary caregiver. But my father had begged Reinn Anon from the depths of his heart with hands clasped, on his knees on those very same tiles he had spent that day cleaning beside his then, future wife.
“Allow my boy to live Milord, that is all I ask of you,” words passed from chapped lips and a dry throat. Peter’s head was bowed in reverence; shoulders slumped, no longer held up by a mask of regal pride. The King had exited from the council room quickly after the court session, evading both councilors and his personal guard as he once did in his youth. In his seat of power Peter did not hide from the men who had sworn their lives to protect him as often as he once did, but these days when his heart was all but laid bare and bleeding on his sleeve, he hid again.
One of the Commandants of the Sovereign Guard in silence knelt by my father’s side and his white-gloved hands clasped before him, brown eyes closed to second Peter’s prayer.
“I ask the High King of Paradise, Reinn Anon to spare the young heir’s life, to give him back to his parents who hold him so dear.”
Peter had swallowed harshly, tears in his blue eyes as the additional Sovereign Guard within the church knelt and prayed for my health. Father when he was not in front of the Nobles, dignitaries and councilors was a joyous trickster; optimistic and young at heart. It was this man that had won the loyalty of his Sovereign Guard and for them to see my father so crushed was wrenching. The nods that followed the divine requests caused my father’s last vestiges of strength to leave him and the Commandant without thought to protocol gathered my nineteen-year-old father into his arms. The silent support was given in that embrace that was so dearly needed at that moment and would be given in the same silent manner for years to come.
My mother had fallen romantically in love with my father sometime before my father would fall aromatically in love with her. Peter felt no sexual attraction for women, but he did love her and needed her as his Queen. But it would be Sir Dryden Atrious that my father would come to love romantically after Sir Atrious convinced the other Commandants to hold a candlelight vigil where all those within the castle; Knights, servants, and Noble born would pray for my returned vitality.
Yet after I came out of the fevers I was still not as strong as I was before. My once sky blue eyes had turned to un-natural ice with my waking, and in my parent's desperation to save their child’s life magic was used to help me. But all it did, all it did was make me weaker…
It was decided that in the Vaen Thyl, the Border Forest between Camar’a and Royale a cabin would be built, remote. Almost impossible for others to find except through the teleportation circles built specifically for the family to come and go from. It would be in that cabin that I would be cooped up, the risk too great for my health and my fragile mind to grow up in the castle surrounded by those who would try to make me a puppet king as they had attempted with my father. So in once contested lands, I grew stunted and I overcompensated with my mind and my heart for the vigor I lacked. Elaina and Peter praised me and told me that I was kind and loving and the people would adore me. But then, if that was so, why did I know only my family? Then too, why, why did I always feel so alone...
Even curled in Sir Atrious’s embrace that day, the day I learned of my death, I felt alone. I watched the people who climbed the grand staircase with us, servant, knight and noble alike with no recognition for any of them. Who were they? Which of them were close to my parents and who among them knew who I was?
Clearly, there were not many who realized who I am as for every few who inclined their heads to us; there were many more that moved on without recognition. Atrious at the bottom of the stairs steered right, coming to a stop before guarded double wooden doors.
“Sir Atrious, they’re Majesties are in a diplomatic meeting with merchants from Rimedur,” warned the guard and a deep frustrated sigh left Atrious but he nodded.
“Pass the word that there are grave tidings from the clerics, but do so discretely,” he drew away to settle himself into a chair against the rear wall. Hands on my waist he settled me onto his lap and I cocked my head at him, “Atrious, what is wrong? Please tell me!” I already had known something was not right but now I worried more; Atrious wouldn’t try to call my parents out of a meeting if something wasn’t dreadfully wrong. And everyone had been so sad! Why would no one explain to me?
“Your Highness…” The deep voice trailed off and my hands touched stubble covered cheeks as his brown eyes looked to the double doors as though silently beseeching my parents to come through that entry.
Again! Again I felt that stab of pain; I could feel the sadness leak off the Knight who held me.
“What’s wrong? Why is everyone so sad?” I was growing scared again, my voice higher, hands growing sweaty against his cheeks. Shifting on his lap I was unable to be calm or get comfortable.
Arms pulled me to his chest and with my cheek against his beating heart I still could not make sense of what was going on, but I could feel my fear rising at the unknown that surrounded me. Strangers were all around me, with people sad and my parents weren’t able to comfort me nor would Atrious tell me anything! A hiccup escaped as tears welled up, sniffles shortly following after, and hands rubbed my back.
“Shh…Everything will be explained soon, your highness.”
Tears escaped and fists held onto the Knight’s doublet as he tried to calm me, but I was far too scared now and could not be calmed so easily. Sniffling and trembling against him, Atrious began to lightly bump me on his knee and I squeaked a first and then I laughed against his chest, clinging to him. My breathing was going to make me cough soon because of the laughter, that was always what happened but I just let myself laugh anyway. The tears still fell but now it was from a mixture of laughter and pain, the giggling caused my lungs to work harder, and I could feel the constrictions. My Father’s love continued to bounce me gently on his knee and although some would consider me too old to enjoy such a thing, I did not know that. I was distracted from my worries and cares, as Atrious was happier now himself as well.
“Tell me of life at the cabin my Prince?” and the bouncing slowed so I could regain my breath to speak.
My nose scrunched up as I thought of what to say, taking the time to allow my lungs to fill again with faltering breath, “Lots of painting. Papa helped me finish painting my room! I would really like you to see it Sir Atrious, the walls are cloudy skies and trees, and the ceiling is the stars with the Sun and the Moon.” As the courtiers who passed by us had no reason to feel sad I was beginning to calm. I smiled at the Knight my palms against his chest. “Will you come to see it?”
“I would like to see what you have painted my Prince,” Atrious smiled at me and hugged me gently, close to his chest. “A ceiling of stars? And the walls are trees and the sky? That sounds wonderful and painted by you and your Father, it must be beautiful to behold.”
I clutched at the Knight’s back with my small fingers and smiled back to him, “Green hills, and big pine trees and fluffy clouds!” I coughed as I laughed. Atrious gently pat my back as I coughed and the feeling of the earlier sadness crept back, right into Atrious’s eyes.
I was about to ask again what was wrong, to try to push Atrious to explain to me when the double doors opened and my parents stepped out looking for us. When Elaina saw me in Atrious’s arms with teary eyes she immediately came to us and gathered me into her embrace. With all the layers and materials her dress was made from it was not very comfortable but I didn’t care, my mother and father were here and they could answer me!
“Mama,” I spoke up hands fisting her blonde hair sniffling against the lace of her courtly attire. She nosed my cheek and I giggled softly and she pressed a kiss their too before she settled me back onto Atrious’s lap. I looked up to her and put my arms out like I had when I was younger, all I wanted right then was her arms, her smell. If they would not answer me at least give me the comfort of being held!
Sir Atrious had begun to explain what had been said at the earlier meeting and I watched, curled into myself on the Sovereign Guard Commandant’s lap. If not for my mother looking at me from the corner of her eye and gently caressing the contours of my face with her fingertips I would have thought that my presence was completely forgotten.
Peter was almost panicked, and his inability to stay calm was only making my anxiety worse as nearly everything they were saying was passing over me without any understanding. Talk of their needing another heir, the political consequences, and the land being without a King. Elaina was silent as she listened but she kept looking to me catching my attention and giving me her small smiles. Even with her silent reassurances, I was tired of not knowing what was going on! I fidgeted on Atrious’ lap and just as I opened my lips to ask for an explanation, Atrious squeezed my-sides before I could speak.
My mother would put up her hand to halt Peter so she could speak her piece, “It took me four years to conceive Nathanael, Peter. We have tried how many times whence?” there was exhaustion in my mother’s words that I did not understand then, and her normally bright, blue eyes were dull.
“Elaina, not this again,” Peter shook his head, arms crossed before his chest.
“Peter! You must have a new wife; I am either now infertile or nearly so. Divorce me Peter Quele, and take a new wife. You know the council and His Eminence are only going to stay quiet upon this for so long. For the stability of the Empire, you have to do this. ”
Peter looked stricken by my Mother’s words, posture crumbling, his eyes at once much younger than his twenty-eight years, nearly fearful and frantic, “Elaina…”
“Mother?” I tried to wiggle my way out of Atrious’s hold; they could not buy my silence any longer! Why were they talking about leaving each other? Did they not love each other any longer? The sadness had been about me, right? Was this my fault?
“Papa?” I was panicking, and once I had struggled out of Atrious’s arms and made it to the floor I grabbed onto my father around the waist burying my tear stricken face into his doublet. My chest was heaving, my vision was dimming, and my form was trembling as my father gently pushed me back so he could crouch at my level.
“Nathanael-,” my father looked at my red face, then to my mother behind me. He was clueless as to what to say and my mother massaged my shoulders from behind, leaning down to blow soft air against my ear.
“Shhh, your only making it harder to breathe for yourself, my Little-Blessing.”
I tried to calm down. I began to count my breaths, one large breath in; three little breaths out like mother had taught me. Peter kissed my brow and unfurled to his feet, “I told you, Elaina, you are my wife. I will not leave you.”
Commandant Atrious stepped closer to the three of us after standing, surveying the grand hall where we all stood. He spoke up in a calm but formal tone before my mother could speak again, “Your Majesties, should this conversation be had in such a public area?”
An uncomfortable silence filled the air from the three adults alongside my difficult breathing and the sound of distant revelry. Peter pat my back to help dislodge any of the fluid clumped in my throat and one of the two wooden doors behind us opened.
“Your Majesties?” a Scribe looked to my parents from the half-open door. “Your presence is required in the trade negations. The proceedings will have to be halted otherwise.”
Peter made a frustrated sound deep in his throat, “Yes, yes. Give us another moment if you would,” waving the Scribe off.
The Scribe nodded and darted back inside, the large wooden door closing loudly behind him. Elaina sighed leaning down to kiss my bald head. “There is nothing we can do for it, bring him back to the cabin Sir Atrious. Explain to Thom what you heard in the meeting; make certain he can keep his own emotions in check before he explains to Nathanael.”
My mother gently turned me and cupped my chin in her hand, “We will be home this evening, my Little-Blessing. Until then be good for Thom, please Nathanael?”
I nodded wishing to please her but I still did not know what was going on at all. Oh, I was becoming frustrated with not only with my inability to articulate myself but with my parents for not explaining anything! It seemed that no one wished to tell me and they were just shifting the responsibility around, from Atrious to my parents and at last to Thom. Atrious scooped me up and I started to cry again, heavier this time, putting out my arms for my mother who looked herself heartbroken and torn between her political duties and her motherly ones. Peter grasped my mother’s hand, murmuring to her words that seemed to only make it harder for her to swallow back her emotions.
My Mother’s strong voice quivered only once as she spoke to me one last time before a Guard opened the Council Room doors and they disappeared inside. “Thom will explain everything Nathanael… and we will come to the cabin this evening, I promise. Please rest, you're pushing yourself too hard.”
I gripped onto Atrious’s Sovereign Guard uniform, giving my mother a faint nod before hiding my face in the clothed shoulder of the man that held me. Father told me I was getting too old to break down like this and I was trying. But I was still so confused, I remained afraid of the unexplained that seemed to loom over the people in my life like thickening smog.
Holding the wooden door open with one hand, my father instructs Atrious from behind us, “Once you bring him to the cabin Sir Atrious, I will require your presence at the trade meeting.”
Atrious turned toward my Father and he inclined his head, no emotion showing on his face “Of course you’re Majesty.”
~*~
So I was taken to the cabin through the Teleportation Circles that only our two families and their Royal Guards knew how to activate. Mother was right; I was growing weary and I did not want to make my breathing any harder. I curled against the man who my Father loved, unable to do much besides that until Thom would explain everything to me.
I was left in the sitting room of the cabin as Atrious made his way down the steps into the basement level. Confused, I curled my arms about my legs, drawing my knees to my face. Waiting and waiting, I rocked back and forth on the wood floor. What was more waiting for me anymore? No one would tell me what the matter was and it was starting to exhaust me again.
Two sets of boots on the stairs and I looked up, searching for the head of unruly red curls that I knew were Thom’s. Atrious stepped aside; first off the steps, so I could see Thom. He gave a much smaller and more held back smile then I had seen him give me before. My brows furrowed and my best friend knelt by my side as Atrious bowed to us both quickly and beat a hasty retreat outdoors and back to the Teleportation Circles.
“Nate,” Thom rubbed my shoulders and I peered up from his clothed stomach.
“Alright…umm-,” his brows furrowed but he gave a resolute nod and surged on, “I don’t know when, but because of the illness wearing you out, your body is going to stop working, you won’t be able to hear or see, or talk or…” Thom took a deep breath and swallowed hard before continuing to speak, in an attempt to keep control of his own emotions.
“You’re going to go for a very long sleep, a sleep you won’t wake up from. So you won’t get to come back. The Arch Angel Azreal will come and pick you up and bring you to a place where your body will sleep for a long time. Where you won’t hurt anymore and you will have an easier time breathing.”
“Sleep?” I still did not understand and Thom nodded again still rubbing my back.
“But you see, when you go, Azreal is just going to come for you. That’s the sad part, that’s why everyone has been so sad. Only you will get to go to this peaceful place where you can sleep, your parents can’t come with you yet and I just, I can’t.”
“Why? I want you to come with me!” Clutching his waist hard, I pleaded with eyes and words up to my best friend, the boy I had been married to since birth.
“I want to come with you but I can’t…I’m a child of Nanqa, we go to the River where you will go to the Halls. But once you’re sleeping this special sleep you won’t be alone, I know your ancestors will likely be with you, so you will have company.”
“I just-just won’t go to sleep! If I don’t sleep then I won’t be alone and the Angel cannot take me away.”
Thom grimaced uncertain what to say and I pulled away, starting to cry, shaking my head, “I don’t want to go Thom!”
“I’m sorry Nate,” Thom’s voice cracked with puberty and distress, “You’re going to have to sleep sooner or later but it’s not the same kind of... Oh Nanqa, I’m messing this up. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this; the afterlife is different for Royalians and Camarians. I want to come with you when you go, but I can’t, Reinn Anon would never allow it.”
My parents had left an adolescent attempting to explain to me what death was and how I would die from my illness at some point unknown. Though that unknown now, was likely very soon. Thom had done the best that he knew how especially given that we were of two different and disagreeable Gods and once we died we would go on to different places. Yet I still did not understand, and that sadness and misunderstanding turned from a child’s desperation to rage. I had been handed from person to person with no one taking the time to give me clarity and they had left me with my husband, who was only fourteen, to finally explain.
I didn’t want to be touched just then, my heart beginning to race, my breathing becoming ragged on the cabin floor. Why had they waited? Everyone had left me ignorant as they put me through all of the experiments and curative processes that had been painful and had only left my body weaker. My hair had begun to fall out years ago, leaving me now bald and my body was given to curious shakes. I had always known there was something wrong with me but I had never really known what beyond the basic understanding of my physical fragility.
I was so angry, at my parents for my ignorance and for putting the responsibility for my understanding on anyone but themselves. I was angry too at my body for the illness that was going to make me go into this terrible sleep where I may never see Thom again. I did not want to go where I would be separated from Thom, Mama, and Papa!
I was only nine years old and I quite simply did not want to die.
Thom’s chest became a wall on which to beat with clenched fists. But my best friend only hugged me tighter to him as I sobbed and had a tantrum against the unfairness of the Gods taking me away from him and my family.
There were good, rational reasons why I was not prone to outbursts of anger. Such times left me often bed-ridden due to my gasping for air and accelerated heartbeat. But I didn’t care right then, no, I pummeled on Thom’s chest, my blows only beginning to soften as darkness entered the corners of my vision. Blurred with tears and gulping hot air against the wool of Thom’s sweater, my body quaked with exhaustion from this day.
Thom had been singing while I raged, words I had heard him sing to me before. Words that he always sang to me when we were alone, his voice barely above a whisper like a secret only we shared.
“Nothing shall disturb your slumber deep,
as you are guided home in your sleep.
I’ll protect you from harm,
and you’ll wake in my arms.”
But I was afraid now to sleep and the black spots in front of my eyes were growing larger as the darkness crept in. Panicking, my fingers clutched for purchase at Thom’s chest, bawling once again. Hands rubbed up and down my back.
“Nate, you have to breathe, nice and slow.”
Shaking my head was the last action I could take as my hyperventilating carried me into nothingness.