Word Count: 2235

~Avila

This morning, I woke to four maids crowding me.

They practically dragged me from bed and started dressing me, muttering about how my father returned from business.

Once I've been sufficiently dressed in suffocating clothing, I'm dragged downstairs to meet him.

Considering how I was prepared in the morning by the maids, I expected my father to be a stuffy, haughty man with too much power and little interest in me.

Much to my surprise, he immediately engulfed me in a warm, loving hug and launched into a spiel about how grateful he is that I'm alive, and how sorry he was to be held up on his attempt to return here.

I like him already.

Now, we sit at the table, enjoying a beautiful lunch that is far more exotic and lavish than anything I've had so far, when my father hasn't been home. I've piled my plate with so many foreign fruits that I have no more room for anything else of substance.

"I am so pleased you're back, Av," father exclaims, smiling at me.

I see the resemblance between him and I now. His hair is pale like mine, although his eyes are dark and searching. There's a warmth to him that is rare in this place, that is comforting.

"She didn't go on vacation, William," Crimson mutters tersely. She has been acting strange since he returned.

"Let me be happy, Crim," father exclaims, grinning at me. "My little girl is back."

I don't smother my smile. All my fears about having two parents I would never be close to are gone, filling a void that has been open since I first woke all those weeks ago.

My smile dims a little when I glance at Vade.

He is staring at me, his jaw hard, a darkness in his eyes that steals away all that warmth that I was just drenched in.

My brows pinch together at his expression. He swallows thickly, then looks back at his plate.

What is he thinking?

"Let's hope you stick around long enough to make the most of it," Crimson bites out, although forces a smile to dilute the intensity of what she is saying.

"I actually have business to be attended to on the border in the next couple of days, but I'll be back." He looks at me, a little wary, like he is asking for permission.

Disappointment crawls up into my throat, almost suffocating me.

He's leaving? So soon? I need time to get to know him, to speak to him...how can he be so ready to leave when he just got here?

And why is this feeling so familiar?

Sensing my discomfort, Roel, from beside me, starts speaking. "I would like to remind you, Sir, that Avila has no memory of anything. Perhaps she would like to hear something about her old life."

"Well, I have a fond memory of you and a little stuffed toy. You would bring it to every reception of mine as a little girl," I'm told.

I laugh breathily, although I'm not amused. "Hmm. Funny."

Why can't he stay? Why does he have to leave?

A creeping feeling of abandonment starts to make itself home in my chest, ripping open what I thought had healed the void I've been haunted by.

He's my father...am I not more important than business?

"You always cared about things like that. Once you decided you liked something, that was it." He laughs a little, looking at Crimson, whose expression is stiff.

Vade shakes his head, muttering under his breath, "isn't that the truth."

"You always took such an interest in ruling over this Territory, my little protégé." My father sounds proud, having raised his one heir successfully. Has he forgotten that I no longer have all the knowledge that he taught me?

"Now I have to relearn everything," I sigh bitterly.

Father pauses, holding my gaze. Slowly, he lowers his fork to the placemat before bracing his elbows astride his plate, winding his fingers together.

"It was unfortunate, when you-"

"Sick. When you got sick," Crimson cuts in abruptly.

Everyone at the table falls silent, all a little stunned at the outburst. I freeze as their eyes all find me. Each of their reactions seem so different.

Crimson looks frankly terrified, like when she first found me in the tomb. Roel is concerned, like he is waiting for me to realise something, but hoping I don't.

Vade is...well, Vade is impossible to read.

"What kind of sickness?" I ask tentatively.

Everyone but Vade looks at Roel, who clears his throat. "Sickness of the mind."

"Brain," Crimson corrects curtly. "Not the mind. The brain."

I frown. Did I hit my head? Or did some disease take roots in my brain and rot it from the inside? I can't help but brush my fingers along my temple, as if that may reveal some secrets.

"What Crimson means is that you first got these terrible headaches which led the doctors to conclude you had some complicated, very serious illness. We lost you soon after that," Roel tells me softly, worry etching into his features.

I glance at Vade. He's staring down at his plate, clutching his fork so tightly it turns his knuckles pale. He's resisting saying something...

"You were missed greatly, Av. So much so," father murmurs. He means it too.

My mouth opens to talk, but the words that come out are slurred and incoherent. Then, a vignette of darkness stains my vision, before I'm transported back into my memories.

It's dark as I pick my way down the hallway. I'm short...no, young. I'm holding a stuffed bear toy under my arm as I brush my hand along the wall, using it to guide me through the shadows.

As I pass the window, I flinch at a harrowing storm raging outside, sending an onslaught of rain to splatter down upon the glass. Lightning flashes and a helpless yelp falls from my mouth.

I quicken my pace. Where is little me going?

A carpeted rug on the floor reminds me that this is Crimson's wing of the house.

Little me finds a door, and heaves it open, glancing inside.

The room is unfamiliar. It's large, filled with rich, deep red furniture that looks ominous under the candle light. It's the main room of which must be my mother and father's personal space, their bedroom to the right.

My father is standing, staring out the window despite it only revealing his own reflection. He seems younger, although far more tense.

"I'm a King, Crimson. What can you expect?" He growls.

"And I am a Queen, and yet I am expected to bear the entire responsibility of raising that girl." Crimson is pacing back and forth, wearing a flowing nightgown.

Father turns around, his sneer bitter. "What a shame for her."

Little me tucks back behind the door, but remains, listening into her parents' conflict.

"You should be around. You should be in her life," Crimson insists. She sounds so strangled and desperate. I've never heard her so out of control, like her life is slipping away through her fingers, and she is fighting to get it back.

"She loves me more because I'm not." Father steps forward, clutching my mothers frail shoulders. "Our realm needs us, Crim. I need to be there to lead it."

The hurt I feel in the present intermingles with my past as we both experience this for the first time. I can't imagine how witnessing this must have hurt me.

"You're setting a terrible example for her."

"And you're not? Lying to her about the rebellion, about how difficult her life is going to be. About her engagement..." Father hisses, shaking his head in disgust.

Crimson's expression is pained. "I do what I have to."

A tear slips down her cheek, which she quickly swipes away. The sight opens up a deep chasm within me, that is mostly filled with confusion.

The more that is revealed from my memories, the less I understand about my life.

"Perhaps we should accept that we are both terrible parents instead of lying to ourselves," father shouts

The surprise at him raising his voice shocks me from the memory, transporting me back into my present self.

I'm on the floor, my chair lying on its side beside me. Someone is at my side, smoothing back my hair.

"Hey, you're okay." It's Vade, his soft, gentle voice so beautiful it makes it harder to grip back onto reality. "Let's sit up, okay?"

I stare up at him. His black, wavy hair raining down over his forehead, nearly concealing those striking blue eyes from me.

His breath is faster than usual, fanning down over my face as he inspects me, distress evident in his expression.

For a fleeting moment, I want to reach out and touch the hard line of his jaw, or to let my fingertips brush against his cheekbones.

Instead, I oblige his instruction, but only because his hand is pressing against my back, pushing me straight. His touch is so gentle it makes me crave it on my skin, although the thought promptly melts from my mind as everyone else crowds around me.

"What happened?" Crimson asks, panicked as I'm helped by Vade to my feet.

"Sorry. I think I passed out." I rub my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut.

That memory was so haunting I don't want to reveal it to them. It is in the past, so it is best left there instead of dredging it up so it can hurt us all over again.

"Was it another flashback?" Roel asks brushing my hair back from my face. I didn't realise how damp my forehead is from sweat.

"No...no I just felt light headed," I excuse, brushing off all the worried glimpses at my person.

"I'll take you back to your room." Vade grabs my forearm, indicating that it's more of an instruction than an offer.

Crimson pats his shoulder as he passes. "Thank you Vade, you've always been so kind to our daughter."

I draw in fresh, cool air as we leave the dining room. Being around so many people when I'm trying to regain my footing in the present time is difficult, although being around Vade seems to alleviate my frustration.

My mind wanders back to a few moments ago. He cares about me. Enough, at least, to launch from his chair and be at my side first when I fell back.

"You don't have to take me all the way back to my room," I assure him.

"You had a flashback, didn't you?" His tone isn't accusatory, but it's firm, insinuating that any excuse used on him will be fruitless.

Still, I give it a try. "I told you, I passed out-"

He stops, letting go of my arm to grab my shoulders instead. His grip shocks me. It's tight as he gives me a little shake.

"No, you didn't." His eyes darken. "I was watching you and your attention drifted, and then you fell back."

I shake him off, leaning against the hallway wall.

"It wasn't a very nice flashback. I don't want to talk about it," I grumble, folding my arms over my chest.

He slides his hands into his pockets, his expression softens a little. "It was about your parents, wasn't it?"

"How did you know?"

"You never told me about your problems with them, but you were often tense when they were together. I figured something went on in your childhood that has made you...wary of them." His draws in a breath, like the thought of me enduring that angers him.

"They had an argument. In my flashback, I mean," I tell him, deciding if I'm going to be honest with anyone, it's got to be him. "It was like they had given up on me."

"You've always been so fiercely independent. You've always overcome that." He knows any assurances around to fall flat. Instead, he's telling me not to dwell, but to move on.

I'm an adult now. I don't need to rely on them.

"I want to create a family with you," I whisper.

My own admission shocks me. Where did that come from?

Vade's expression slackens, but he doesn't seem disturbed. Part of me hopes I'm not delusional in interpreting the flicker in his eyes to be a little bit of hope.

"You don't even know me," he reminds me quietly.

"I'm following my instincts. You're the only person I trust."

The urge to reach out and touch him is overwhelming. He's standing there, so close, looking so ethereal in the shadows of the corridor, like a god.

"You can trust me, Avila. I won't hurt you," he murmurs.

My heartbeat falters. "But you're scared I will hurt you."

He looks down at his feet, shaking his head a little. When he looks up, that impassive, unreadable expression has graced his beautiful features.

"Come, let's get you to bed. You need rest." He says it gently, but the undertone is firm enough to let me know this isn't up for discussion.

I'm going to secure his attention eventually. I'm going to prove to him he can trust me.

🤎••🤎

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~Midika 💜🐼