Pound of Flesh | A Self Para
Take a pound, take two What's a pound of flesh between Friends like me and you? What's a pound of flesh among friends?
The evening had started off lovely enough. Though Adira did not and was not planning on spending all of her time with Chryson, the thought of seeing him at another formal event had fueled her through the evening until she could see him. While she’d always loved dancing and had intended to spend her whole night doing so, she did wait until she saw her dear friend to have her first dance. She gave it to him, a small gift for the New Year. All the while, she couldn’t help but wonder if she could slip away with him at midnight, if she could kiss him quickly and quietly before they had to run back and act like nothing happened. It was thrilling.
Unfortunately, as these events go, nothing is as planned. As Adira was planning on getting some champagne to ease the evening along, Augustus grabbed her arm. Augustus Selwyn never even talked to his own daughter, much less actually touch her. He usually couldn’t even be in the same room as her. Adira had once joked to Falon and Dominique that he probably couldn’t pick her out from a crowd. Obviously, she’d been wrong, for he pulled her out of that ballroom as quickly as he could, she the doe-eyed daughter following with a confused expression.
The second they were out, far enough into the house to be away from the sights and sounds of the ball, Augustus let her go and faced his daughter. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but just stared for a moment. All Adira could do was stare back as he tried to take in his daughter, his stranger of a child, the very thing he’d pushed away. After much deliberation, he finally spoke. “You look like your mother in that gown.”
It was a much softer approach to whatever this was than Adira had been expecting. There was something almost nostalgic in his voice, as if he’d been imagining a ball with Odessa back when they were young. It was a side of her father she’d never seen, as most sides of Augustus Selwyn were. Though they weren’t as close as before, she noticed that he smelled like cigar smoke. It was an oddly comforting scent, though it did little to offset the awkward mood of the moment.
Augustus sighed softly, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment. When he returned his face to Adira’s, it was a stony-faced man that looked back at her. This was the father she’d been expecting to see, and now all she had to do was wait to find out what went wrong.
“It’s high time you stop acting like a child and take a stand.” With a soft, proud smirk pulling onto his lips, he opened his cloak and pulled out a mask he’d kept hidden. It was ornate, silver, but not delicate. This was not the kind of mask Adira expected her father to ever give to her, as a woman. It was the mask of a warrior, in their family. Yet he held it out to her, arm outstretched, as if he were giving her the first Christmas present in years. ( Though a little late, he was. )
“I have no sons,” he continued, still proud of his little gift as his daughter carefully grasped it, taking it in and feeling its touch. “I always wanted one. I wanted to raise a man, have him wear that mask. However, Odessa could only ever handle one birth, and I wouldn’t dare give birth to a bastard. Imagine the disgrace.” He chuckled softly, as if amused by the thought of a man in his position having strange children running all over the country. Adira laughed, as well, but for a different reason, thinking of Theodore Nott and Alana Lewis.
He seemed almost surprised by her response, actually pausing to take her in for a moment. Adira could’ve sworn he was a different man in those moments, not at all the stony-faced man she’d seen, nor the proud man from before. This one was so far removed from the others that he stood alone, almost regretful of the space between his child and him. But, as quickly as he came, he was gone again, as was Adira’s laughter.
“I need you to listen to me,” he insisted, as if his daughter weren’t hanging on his every word. This was the most Adira had been around her father since she’d been eleven, and she was determined to take in everything about him. “There is going to be a fight tonight. You either need to participate or hide. Keep in mind that you’ll be watched. Intently.” He paused, giving her a moment to try to take in the information.
Adira’s face was a death white, her eyes wide as the prey she knew she was. It was the moment she’d been dreading. The silver mask in her hands felt like the weight of the world, given to a child to carry. She could feel as it wanted to pull, pull, fall to the ground, but she couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t falter in front of this man. Taking a shaky breath in, she tried to regain her composure as best she could.
Augustus almost looked as if a father should. Sympathetic. “I know. It’s a shock to us all. However, this event was the best place to do it, don’t you agree?” He looked as if he wanted an answer from her, even though he sighed and kept the conversation moving along. “We haven’t always been close, Adira. Do you want to earn my favor? Fight. Prove yourself to me once and for all. Do that, for the blood that runs through your veins is shared in my own. It’s fresh blood, pure blood. It’s the one of the two things that ties us together--blood. The other is this cause. Are you ready to finally be a Selwyn as you claim to be?”
For a while, the child before Augustus couldn’t move. She stood, staring down at the mask in her hands, transfixed by its ghostly gleam in the dim lighting of the room. Was this how it was supposed to go? All that talk with Aidan about him trying to get her out and it was already too late. She had gotten out of the Little Hangleton massacre, but this wasn’t something she could run away from. Not with this at stake.
Adira looked back up at her father, giving him only a nod as an answer.
Though a strange sight, Augustus Selwyn took that moment to smile at his daughter, before closing in and awkwardly pulling her to his chest. It was a very new moment, as Augustus wasn’t one for tender gestures and Adira wasn’t used to the feel of her own father against her. However, the soft smell of cigars and the night’s champagne lulled her into a state of calm as she hugged her father back, hiding her face in his chest. Merlin, she wanted this. She’d do anything for more moments like this with her father, an actual life with him. As he pulled away, Augustus only had one thing to say before the chorus of screams reached them.
“Make me proud, Adira.”
Though the night was still young, Adira felt aged as she waited with baited breath for someone to walk her way. There was no way she was going to actively hunt, not for the first one. She was shaky enough already. Silver mask in place and a stolen cloak covering her gown, her body looked like one of an honest Death Eater. Her head, however, screamed to her that this was wrong. This was far against her moral code. She didn’t even believe in the cause.
Her heart was what made her decision easier. It laid out a story in her mind for her head to see, a story of a budding relationship between father and daughter. Maybe they would actually talk, for a change, get to know one another. She wanted so desperately to know her father, see him as a human being and less of a figure. They were one in the same blood.
She didn’t even bother to hide as a young boy around her age came running in. He looked petrified, blood already glaceing his cheek. He’d gotten away from someone else, and Adira knew it. Besides, he was a muggleborn. This was the kind of person she needed to hurt in order to make her father proud.
As the boy spotted her, he raised his wand, but Adira was much quicker than him. “Expelliarmus.” The mask disguised her voice, muffling it beyond recognition. His wand flew away, hitting the wall. She didn’t want this to get too messy for her. With his wand out of the way, she could get it over with so she could move along with her night.
He tried to rush over, grab his wand and Adira just sighed. “Everte Statum.” He went flying across the hall, hitting a pillar in his wake. As he tried to get up, she only had to say, “Mobilicorpus,” and he was up in the air, flying at her very whim. And she threw him back into the pillar and let him drop from there.
The boy might not have had his wand, but he had the sense and the strength in him to still try and get away. Still, that wasn’t something Adira could have. While her wand couldn’t precisely do well with dark magic, it sure could do just about everything else she’d been trying. Poised and ready, she aimed her wand. “Incarcerous!”
The final spell was a clever one, trickier than the rest. “Entomorphis!” she cried, watching as her victim slowly and surely turned into a bug. Carefully, she picked it up, and plucked the wings from its back, plucked a leg from its socket, and placed it back on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Adira said, looking down at her feet with tears brimming in her eyes. She pushed them back, trying to get that same stony expression as her father. And it was difficult, but after much effort, she managed it. Her first torture... Augustus would have been so pleased to see it happen. She may want to die, to burn herself alive and never return to the world again, but she’d done it. And maybe the person would live, she didn’t know. Not much of a life, though.
And, in all honesty, Adira had no choice. This was the path chosen for her. She was going to make her father proud.
