-Cautious, careful fingertips dared test their limits against the doors wooden frame, even as the arm of her robe was tugged in her attendant’s desperate plea for her cooperation of staying hidden. ‘You’re not meant to be known of, my dear’ – his reasoning’s. Yet they fell upon deaf ears, even as scorching hot fingers formed dents into planks once cut and oiled.
–For Hikari saw no reason to hide, no reason to cower. Because there was something on the other end that wanted her.
Her grasp of the handle long forgotten, the young maiden sat upon the floor and tried in desperation, for but a moment, to get back onto her own two feet. Useless as they may sometimes be, they held not the strength to carry her weight back up – and all that she gained for her efforts was aching limbs and slow, labored breaths.-
-Another tug of her clothes, and the wick near the flame tried his luck in gaining her attention. And in one way, in one manner, he did. For she showed her bare hands towards him, a silence threat if ever there was such a thing from the sun’s own daughter – and after that, she was left to do as she pleased.
–Her cheek, coming to press against the door in an attempt at hearing the conversation going on beyond it.-
-“Did you not hear me? I am your King and you will attend me. Your Queen has been dead for almost fifteen years.”-
-“Has hiding out here in the woods kept you from such common knowledge? Or do traitors simply have no regard for the law?”-
-A beat of silence, before the bone of her jaw took the brute force of something slamming against the door. Shocked from the act, the maiden recoiled – just in tune with her company’s own panicked screech. Quickly he sought to grasp her by her elbows to aid her in her escape deeper within the home, but a body that could not stand on its own was as easy to carry as dead weight, and so before the wooden frame got brought down; the two had not managed to get far.
At first, her hair was grasped – a foul trick, perhaps, but one that worked best nonetheless. Within the rough handling of her small frame, as her fingers sought to clutch at her own scalp to lessen the pain of the assault, intricate hair embellishments fell apart within the inky locks. Pins and beads spun from gold, uncoiling and scattering about them like falling raindrops.
–All the while, a silent plea of ‘please’ escaping faintly painted lips.-
-But mercy, as it were, would not be given.
Not even for a helpless little girl.-
-Their hold of her shifted the moment they got her to her bound feet – from her hair, to her elbows and for the first time in her life, Hikari cursed her wear for covering her so well. With little strength on her own, the maiden was brought outside – practically dragged like a pesky ragdoll – and before anything could be said and done, she got tossed onto silken laid grass that charred beneath her palms.
The outside world, despite the sunlit groves beauty and serenity – appeared as nothing but wretched, foul and dark.
–Words that continued to echo within her being as gold eyes dared glance past messy, uneven bangs.-
-Up to the one that proclaimed himself as King.-
-After a beat, one that very well may have broken her soul in two – Hikari spoke.-
-In her mind, it made no sense. Held no right. And as she glanced back towards the people she called her own – who had taught her all that she knew, and all that she didn’t – she wondered: Was the Queen, Wrenna, truly dead?
Slowly, warily, Hikari righted herself there upon the grass. To be seated onto her hip, rather than to lay flat on her chest – and within the action, feet bound in bandages peeked past the silken material of her robes.
–Her eyes, starring blindly up into those of the King.-
“… My King.”-She began, and fishing lines tugged at the dimples of her cheeks as she dared smile his way.- “If you wish for me so… So feverishly, then such force is not needed. Please bare yourself and help me.”
-Her arms, her hands, raised towards him.-
“I- I can’t attend to you on my own.”
-A sneer is all that answers her down-turned gaze and simpering words. Dead, yes, for dead was precisely what his mother deserved. The hate that boils so readily near the surface takes even him by surprise and he all but back-steps with the weight of the realization. He yearns to place the blame on THEM, to chalk it all up to THEIR influence-- but the truth is that THEY have never been further from his mind since that fateful day in Aurora than in this very moment. THEY are hiding, shriveled away in the face of this bright spot in the universe and he is left with nothing but the bitter anger that burns his tongue.
-His jaw shifts tensely and he feels the infuriating way his gaze falters. For a moment, he feels guilty, shame bubbling up to wash over the hate and anger that once possessed him-- to remind him of the monster he can be all on his own. It’s a sickening feeling that twists in his gut and he swallows thickly against the bile that threatens to seep through clenched teeth. He forces his eyes back to the girl at his feet and takes her in, as though for the first time.
-She is small, so much smaller than he and his heart lurches at the realization that she reminds him so of Wrenna. He wants to lash out at her, to lift her to her feet and scold her for her filthy, waifish demeanor. This was no behavior befitting a princess, befitting a Hero, and his sneer returns in the wake of such an idiotic impulse. She reaches for him with dainty hands, pleading and compliant and his back straightens with pride and satisfaction. At least she seemed to understand her place.
-Schooling his features into perfect ambivalence, he reaches one hand out to support her climb to her feet. He can be magnanimous, after all, to one so obedient. Why, he even bends at the waist to meet her more closely.-
Perhaps your manners aren’t as rudimentary as one might assu--
-Pain rips through his arm, from shoulder to fingertip, and he staggers back just before her fingers reach him. A shadow clouds his vision and as his head is thrown back in agony, he gasps and nearly trips over his own boots. Seething hatred and wicked condemnation fill his head, reproaching him for being such a trusting fool. Do you not know what SHE is?! Do you not know what you could have DONE?! The words echo in his mind and he bites his lower lip against the pitiful yelp that wants to break free.
-Reflexively, the hand that once reached out to assist her now snaps out and the back of his knuckles collide with her cheek just briefly and he realizes his mistake; her skin burns his own, even with just the slightest touch and he had been mere centimeters from securing his own doom. The pain subsides and he steps back another pace or two, anger writing itself across his features as he glares at the girl who had fooled him so completely.-
Treacherous witch! Seal her hands and bind them! Then load her onto my horse. If you are met with resistance, cut it down.
