Warm

Wake Me Up // Simply Three (Avicii Cover)

Days have gone by in the dwelling since Drue carried me off to his room. He kept me there with him for the night but I've insisted on remaining in my rooms since then. Too many servants. Too many eyes. That doesn't stop him from following me around everywhere I go.  Drue stays by my side up until the moment I go to sleep. Somehow, he's at my door the moment I leave in the morning. Being apart the way we were, with an undefined length of separation, has made us inseparable in our reunion.

Drue has confessed that he's been compelled to stay in the dwelling while the master is away. All due to the simple command that he not leave while his father is away, the order is a binding to this very dwelling. But, he's also said that nothing would have kept him from me now that we're together even without the command. Where I go, he goes. That has been his mantra day in and day out.

Drue and I have spent all of our waking hours together under the moonlight in the garden, telling stories to my mother in her bird form, wandering through the halls of the dwelling, and baking together in the kitchen. His curiosity has been both amusing and exhausting, asking more questions about bread dough then I ever thought a person could ask.

But during every moment with him, secluded from the rest of the world and the reality of our lives, I have seen the soul of the man I'd connected with so long ago. He is as much the Drue of my memories as he is Nicandros. But without the enchantment holding him back, he is also much more. More forthcoming, more devoted, more understanding than I ever knew.

And more affectionate. Even after the ravishing.

"Drue!" I chide him as he kisses my cheek while he's covered in flour. "You have much to learn about cleanliness in the kitchen." I laugh. "A bit of flour on your hands is one thing, but you appear as a ghost from beyond!" Truly he is coated in the white powder, giving him a less than human pallor.

"What is a little flour when the end result is a masterpiece of flavor," he says while nuzzling my neck. "And you, dear Lissa, are a masterpiece." As he finishes speaking, the footfalls of another servant enter the kitchen

"Ah, yes. A beauty to behold." The voice of the woman follows the footfalls, pulling both Drue and I from our joyous bubble. If my mother has returned to her human form, it means only one thing. The master is close to the dwelling, most likely returning within the next night.

We turn to watch as she pauses in the doorway, scanning the kitchen and the mess that we've made.

"Oh," I say. "We will clean it up, don't worry."

"Something is...different," she says, wiping her hands on her smock. "You have been baking, but..." Her features bear witness to her confusion. She lifts a hand to her brow, brushing the hair back and away from her face. "The scent is strong."

The woman wanders into the room as though in a daze, glancing at everything still lying about. Drue and I stand rooted in place, stock still, watching as she brushes her hand along the worktable thoughtfully. She pauses near the oven and seems to contemplate the heat still emanating from within. Her feet carry her further, directly to the cooling rack where several loaves of various types rest. She bends forward, almost touching a loaf with her hand, then drawing it back quickly as one would from a wild beast.

I leave the comfort of Drue's embrace, moving directly to where my mother stands. She is no more my mother than the bird, looking nothing like the woman in my mind, and yet...she is. There is something I now see in her, something not fully disguised by the enchantment. The delicate touch of her fingers on every part of the kitchen, the tender looks she poured over the bread. I see my mother standing before me. She exists somewhere locked away inside this woman. I go to her without hesitation. I rest my hand on her arm, drawing her attention to me.

"Would you like some? I've been baking for Drue while the Master is away. These have cooled."

She brings her hand to touch her lips, fingers pressed into the soft skin. I can see the questions, the confusion swirling in her mind, but she doesn't ask. She simply nods solemnly. As though whatever she tastes will seal her fate. A judgment against her future.

I chose the rosemary loaf I watched her bake as a small child in the kitchen of our bakery. It is the same bread she baked the night she was taken. The very same bread I made for Drue as he sat on a crate in my bakery, first disguised as a wanderer, and later as an entitled lord. Lifting it from the rack, I turn and place it on the wooden board, cutting a thin slice. As I pass it to her, I sense time pause. I hold my breath as she inspects the bread in wonder. She touches it, looks it over, much as I did during my first day in the cell when I awoke to find a loaf of freshly baked bread awaiting me.

Then she brings it to her mouth. Eyes closed, she places it on her tongue. Her nostrils flare with a deep intake of breath. Shock, surprise, I can't tell which is stronger. Her eyes open. She looks upon me as though seeing me for the first time.

"You baked this?" It is not an accusation, but a declaration.

I nod. My mother looks at Drue.

"Where did you..." Her question dies away before it is finished. She looks back down at the bread with recognition.

With remembrance.

Her eyes shut and brows furrow, as if in pain. Her hands grip her smock. Her head begins to shake back and forth.

"How?" This time she asks with purpose. The pieces seem to be falling into some disjointed place but she still cannot make sense of what is happening.

"The bargain," I say quietly. I see something in her eyes, some question of how she came to be in this place, and not in the home she has suddenly remembered. "Father bargained with the master for his oven. You angered him during his visit because you wouldn't bake him any bread. He brought you here."

My mother looks at me deeply. And she knows something of who I am. I see it in her eyes. But not all of the memories. Not everything. The memories are still clouded in places. Like waking from a dream and feeling something of it, but not able to clearly distinguish what in fact it was.

Looking back at the bread, she steps toward it. "No. No, I didn't anger him over bread. I angered him over you." Her eyes rise to meet Drue's. "But I do not remember why." My mother turns away from us, walking toward the storage room.

"What are you doing?" I ask as I follow her, watching her grab more flour, more salt.

"Baking for the master. He will soon be returning to the dwelling and will expect a meal. Bread." Her voice, emotionless once again.

"Do you not remember? Has it all vanished once more?" I ask desperately. She almost knew me, almost remembered her daughter. As I stand in the doorway of the storage room, my mother turns to face me. Not taking another step in either direction, she focuses her gaze directly at me. The daughter who risked everything to find her.

"It has not vanished. I remember bits, small glimpses of my life before. But it is enough. Enough for me to understand my place here, my purpose for the bargains I made long ago. Bargains I will not alter now."

"What?" My voice rises in panic. "We have to find our way out again!"

Her steps toward me are measured, deliberate. Her eyes never leave mine as she approaches. "You will." Her hand rises to cup my cheek. Tender is her touch. Loving. Sacrificial.

"Not without those I hold most dear." I make my declaration, then turn to leave the kitchen. If my mother won't fight for her own freedom, then I will. I seem to recall she had a stubborn streak, one that I have inherited, and I won't let it go to waste now. "Bake all you'd like. I have had my fill for today."

I step back into the kitchen and breeze past Drue. He casts a look at me as he watches me go. It tells me he has not finished with the woman, with my mother. But I am too upset with her to stay, so I allow my feet to carry me to my room.

Thank you so much for reading!

The song has a happy feeling, but the idea behind the title pulled me in. Daralis is "waking up" to her own strength, while her mother is waking up to life, and Drue is waking up to possibilities.

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See you soon!