Finally finished a Minerva drabble (thanks stomach ache? I guess?) about why Minerva left her homeland. Enjoy!
Minerva knew a thing or two about running.
Julian had expressed the same sentiment when she ran from Nadia's castle and found him, though he had no idea how much she knew. Running had defined her. Oft it was characterized as a craven act, that only the truest coward joyfully executes when it is convenient. Such short sighted definitions made her bristle. Perhaps Julian berated himself for running, but Minerva only saw what could have been if he hadn't, and therefore, running was never a negative to her.
She sat in the guest bedroom, the seat she was in the highest of luxury, though she paid no mind to it. Although she had never been this rich, the familiarity of high end bedrooms and servants put her ill at ease, even the clothing made her nervous. She missed her fancy black dresses that she made herself, if only for the colour they sported. She worried of dropping something on Nadia's choice of wear and ruining it. She had the previous ones, and it made her stomach twist.
She sipped at the wine she had requested before she settled in for the night. Stop paying too much attention to these things, she thought to herself. It will only make you sick.
She hadn't been sick since she was sixteen.
Her thoughts delved deep into her mind, and she could not stop the memories from dancing over her eyes. Her familiar Calcifer wiggled his ears in concern, crawling over to her clumsily like an ungraceful bat would. He licked her hand. She smiled at the tiny bat, scratching the top of his head. He could always sense when her thoughts drifted to a bad place. She loved him for it.
She closed her eyes and sighed, just getting it over with. It was going to be a long night anyway.
The sixteen year old girl checked her mirror three times before she even considered going to mother. She had to be spotless, put together perfectly. She had already angered her today, so she would be extra critical if she wanted to smooth things over with an apology. She chose her best jewelry, fixed her hair into an elegant braided bob, and scoured her green, fur lined dress for any spots of dirt. Just like the last time, there was nothing. She took a deep breath. Time to go.
She walked through the hallways glowing with light quickly, but not too quickly, lest she shine terribly from sweat. She greeted the servants politely as she passed, and the guards even more warmly. The guards were her favourite people in this house. They let her sneak out every night so that she could visit her friends, especially Madam Viveka, and they never breathed a word to her mother. Her face lit up when she passed by the head of the guard, sir Konstantin, who had always been so kind to her as a child, who comforted her on her bad days. He was much older than the rest of the guard, with white hair and a sharp white beard. Even as a child, his hair had been that colour.
He smiled at her. "<I am not used to seeing you about the estate at this hour. Only when the sun has gone down.>"
"<I'm looking for mother,>" Minerva said, "<have you seen her?>"
His smile vanished. "<She is in the rec room with your father. Are you in trouble?>"
"<N-no. I'm simply apologizing for earlier.>"
"<You did nothing wrong. You only mixed up the common words 'cat' and 'bat.' They sound too similar, the language is confusing. Not like ours.>"
Minerva shrugged. "<If I had mixed those words up with someone from those countries, I'd make mother a laughing stock.>"
"<Minovshka,>" sir Konstantin sighed, "<you are never going to be an embarrassment. And you don't need to apologize for silly things.>"
She smiled warmly when he called her that. This country's version of her name, if her father hadn't named her. A popular name that came from his own country, apparently. She started for the rec room. "<I'll be okay,>" she said as she waved to him. "<I promise.>"
But as she continued down the hall, her lips thinned and her heart beat faster. She wasn't sure how mother would react today. It was always a certain level of disappointment, and whether anger mixed in with it depended on the day. She hoped she wouldn't get sick this week. That would definitely make her angry.
Outside the rec door, Minerva leaned against the wall and wiped down her dress once more to triple make sure it was acceptable. She heard the voices of her parents, her mother speaking quickly and the most, while her father added his own comment in between when he had the chance. She heard her name spoken and her ears burned. What were they talking about? She leaned into the door to hear them better.
"<-wit's end. I don't know how I can get her to simply be better. Goodness, you would think after all these lessons she would finally understand it.>"
"<Of course you don't know, that's why I'm always the one teaching her. Gods, what I'd do to hire one of those mind witches, maybe then she'd finally do what she needs to.>"
A terrible twitch shot through Minerva's body. Witches of legend that could worm their way into your very being and control you from the inside out. There were stories of witches pretending to be advisers while they completely took over kings and queens, ruling a country by proxy. Witches that took over entire armies for their own. They were said to be the best serial killers without killing, monsters in the night that are never seen or heard because they use others to do everything. There was no escape from their thrall, their slavery. That was what mother wanted.
"<Oh, don't give me that look. I was joking. It isn't as if they exist.>"
It isn't as if they exist. "<But if they did...>" Minerva whispered blankly. She moved, somehow, away from that door, down the hall despite her legs wanting to give out. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she fought hard not to throw up, if she did there was no going back-
She covered her mouth, muffling a scream that so desperately wanted to come out. She made it to her room, ignoring all the looks the servants gave her as she passed, and barred the door with her desk. She had studied magic as was demanded of her by mother. She wanted to burn it all, every last book, every last remnant of this horrid art. It was all proof that her mother didn't love her enough to want her own agency.
In her heart, she knew all along. But she had hoped -dreamed- that it wasn't so, that one day, she would realize what she was doing and change. But that was a child's fantasy.
And now, she was no child.
She packed bags. Filled them with her jewels, clothes, sentimental things. She stayed for one more night, telling mother she was sick, which was received with nothing but coldness and anger. She said her goodbyes to the guard, especially sir Konstantin. He cried big tears when she told him her plan, but hugged her anyway, saying he'd miss her. She snuck out of her room, commanding that no one enter her sickroom. She went to her favourite place, to madam Viveka.
"<Minovshka,>" Viveka exclaimed brightly. "<This is a surprise! I never see you before dark.>"
Viveka's hair now had streaks of grey, her loveliness as vibrant as it always was. She wore a feathered gown of fiery red, her eyes winged with the same red. Her hair was done up in an impossibly luxurious hairclip that shone with gold and white stone. There was no one Minerva wanted to be more than her. And now she had to say goodbye. Never again would she hear her sing, watch her dance, marvel at her grace and confidence. She threw her arms around her, tears in her eyes and trembling.
Viveka petted her hair gently. "<Oh, my girl, what has that woman done to you now?>"
Minerva blurted it all out, slowly, her tears not stopping. "<I have to leave, madam,>" she sobbed, "<this is goodbye.>"
She waited for her to say not to go, but Viveka instead held her teary face in her hands, smiling. "<You must do what you need to, darling. I will never forget you. You will always be my girl.>" She took her hair out of the beautiful hairclip, handing it to her. "<Always.>"
That night, Minerva burned her room. She watched the flames consume her window from below, wearing a dark cloak that hid her face. And she revelled in the freedom.
She held the tiny bat as if he were made of glass.
Asra chuckled. "Familiars are not that fragile, you know. You won't hurt him."
"And you say this magical bond...." she began, "it's unbreakable? Until you die?"
He smiled. "It's unconditional."
His eyes widened and lips parted in surprise as tears welled up in her eyes. He had never seen her cry. "I had no idea," she laughed, "that magic could be so wonderful."
