her shrinking form, wide eyes prying themselves at the corners to grow larger. how he would enjoy taking those bright sapphires from her? plucking them from her head as one might draw a plum from the branch of a tree overhead. no malice in his heart but a simple action of nature. those eyes that he has seen through fractures and cracked reflection, staring back at him through the mirror or the portraits of himself and alexia, particularly the one in the gallery.
he recalls, how often he would find himself standing before the painting, his dearest, darling alexia rendered in oils upon the stretched canvas. it could never capture her beauty, the gentle vibrations that pressed upon his throat and burned in his lungs whilst around here– nothing ever could, but the painter, for all his faults, had captured the coldness of her eyes. their frigid stare pointed down upon him all all he represented. the greater mankind. an infertile tundra that lay between them. she slept her dreamless sleep whilst he sacrificed EVERYTHING for her. gave up his career at university, took on their father’s failing image, became commandant of rockfort.
no matter of blood pooling at his feet as he sit upon the plush cushion of his throne beneath the earth, the loneliness inside him quelled while he watched flesh ripped from muscle, the screams the only thing that broke through his isolation. he killed them, simply because he could and in their horrific, inhuman suffering, they approached, however briefly, his suffering.
her arm wrapped lightly around his, his shoulders pull back and he guides her, as any gentlemen should lead a lady during a waltz, back towards their estate. nothing like the sprawling mansion on his island, nor the castle hidden beneath a hundred meters of ice at the bottom of the world– but for now, it would do. whilst they regained their strength and alexia perfected her plans for the world, it was a place to call their own.
together they passed through the shadow of the threshold and disappeared into the twisting labyrinth of the home. all the while his words continued to play out what was expected of her, rules of the home. everyday she was to wash herself, brush out her hair and dress accordingly in her wardrobe. then she would come to tea with them and after that, a few hours to whittle away in the library– a table he had already seen to for her. their linage mapped out, the great history leading all the way back to veronica herself, in aged ink on yellowed papers. if she was to become an ashford, she must earn it just as he had. she was not blessed with great beauty or the brilliance of a mind like alexia, therefore much like any other lesser child of veronica, she must prove her worth.
“ in time, you’ll find your strengths. alexia’s of course, lay in her unparalleled intelligence and great power. the boy’s “ he spit out the term like a mouth full of rancid blood, “ is best served as security. he will roam the grounds and should he come upon anyone that has wondered into our domain uninvited he will grant a swift death. mine? “
he looked to her, pressing his free hand to his chest. she had not asked but naturally, she might wonder.
“ mine, of course, is to protect alexia. to be her confidant, as when we were children. i am a military genius and as alexia gathers her foot soldiers it will fall upon me to train them. a strict hand is always needed and mine is well versed in such tactics, i assure you. “
they followed, without thought or consciousness, through the halls the invisible path towards the heart of the nest, to their queen. massive doors lay locked tightly. he untangled his arm from her and took a few steps closer, feeling his mind buzz in proximity to his beloved alexia. she knew they were there, they had, since birth, always known when the other grew close. through her blood, it had infinitely become amplified.
“ alexia, my love… “ his voice cooed like a lovestruck boy through the door. “ i’ve shown our lovely manuela about and i leave her in your hands. “
a pang of jealousy rush through him. that anyone aside from himself were to be graced by her appearance, was abhorrent, but as it was her order, there was no fighting against it.
alfred turned towards manuela.
“ she will… call upon you when she’s ready. find me in the study when she dismisses you. “
stiff backed, he turned from her and strided away, feeling his inside coiled tighter and tighter with every step. the muscles in his jaw taut as the hands at his sides became fists.
his eyes are a mirror of her own, of the blue that lingers in memories as she thinks of her mother. but it is a cold reflection... manuela has never been a good judge of character, and even now she cannot trust her own thoughts, but there is something deeply chilling in his gaze. it makes her feel so incredibly small.
it makes her all the more desperate to prove otherwise and have him look at her with approval instead. even as the thought of working to seek that very approval makes her stomach turn with anxiety; some instinctive understanding of wrongness she would have to inhabit.
so, once again- as so many times before- she is frozen in inaction. a passive doll in someone else’s vision. will this ever truly be her life?
there is nothing besides fear stopping her from turning and running off into the lush, wild green around them. nothing but the shaky little heart of a girl wishing for family. in her mind she imagines turning away- chin high and voice steady as she chooses for the first time in her life.
instead, she links her arm with his and feels the virus settle between them like a root system. and, once again, she is pulled along like a puppet.
he talks of strengths, and her stomach clenches, her thoughts still so close to the moment she considered standing tall. closer, still, to the moment she simply gave in like she always does. what strengths could she possibly have?
and, if she has none, how could this long lost family- how could anyone- possibly love her?
the only distraction from the spiraling dread and self loathing is his brief mention of a boy. someone else here in this place? it gives her a brief moment of excitement that is quickly quelled by the contempt in his voice and the way alfred describes this boy’s purpose. security. violence. any anticipation at the thought of meeting him is instantly replaced by anxiety. a feeling that is betrayed in the way her arm tightens, briefly, around alfred’s.
manuela cannot help but wonder what purpose she might have here, if any at all. she cannot help but wonder if there is a purpose they imagine for her. will she be able to fulfill it?
will she finally be loved if she does?
she wants to admit to him that she’s never really had many strengths at all, but the fear of disappointing him- or worse, being sent away entirely- is too paralyzing. even if he will find out soon enough anyways.
so she just gives a small, shaky smile and tries to think of something to say to create the slightest confidence in her worth. when nothing comes to mind, though, she simply remains silent and follows him onward.
as they continue through the halls, the air begins to feel closer and hotter; a summer day just before the led weight of tropical rain. and, just like on those days, her ears are hammered by the sound of insects. though here it feels as though their wings beat inside her head.
her legs feel stiff- each step an effort- and it all comes to a crescendo; the world feeling as though it may tip and drop her to her knees. then, suddenly, all goes silent and still. her mind clears enough to see the door that stands before them, and hear alfred’s voice cut through in a sing-song tone.
it feels as though the sun sits in the room beyond, and manuela isn’t certain how she remains standing as he releases her arm.
even in the sense of unease his presence brings, she cannot help the somewhat panicked glance she shoots back at him as he departs. yet, as always, her desperate need to please remains and all she says is a soft, “ thank you, sir. “
