Abducted

33

Alfred mumbled something under his breath. Nightmares had plagued his night, and now rings rested under his eyes. The sun was just beginning to rise, but he'd already opened the window and shade. Wind blew into the room, chilling him down to the bone, but the heat from Ivan was enough to counter it before it got too bad.

Yesterday was interesting. He'd left the room for the first time, and went to breakfast, where he was immediately bombarded by so many questions he didn't even know where to start answering them. Eventually, Ivan decided it was enough, and sent all besides family off with a firm glare.

Missouri was in a wheelchair, his legs cut at the knee. Texas had a large slice taken out of his shoulder, and his arm was in a sling. A few had broken arms and wrists, unhealed because of the starvation. A few of his siblings were back. Some would have to regrow eyes, or fingers, or tongues, but otherwise, they were alright.

What Alfred didn't understand was the motive. He'd been told by Ivan that he apparently knew that he was going to be taken, but he couldn't remember that much. He just remembered slipping the key into his bullet torn bed, and the pain of having a few hundred gaping holes in his chest.

"Broken my encryption," he mumbled, narrowing his eyes. The internet in the valley was encrypted. It shouldn't have been able to break. He had quickly scribbled down that note, knowing someone would come after him eventually- to be able to do that, you would have to be very, very powerful. He'd told Delaware that in the next week or so he might leave on an unexpected business trip, and he was just waiting for when.

His children had gotten hurt because he didn't believe they would come after anyone but himself. He really believed he was fucking special- didn't he? That nobody would get hurt besides him? A pang of guilt spread through him. There was no way to change the past, but he wished there was. He wished he contacted the nations and told them he was being stalked and he didn't know who it was, just that they had a lot of time, money, and power. They would have listened. If it was enough to freak out the most powerful nation, it was worth looking into.

There was a flutter of power. He felt some of his magic return, seeping into his veins. Golden tears ran down his face from the rush it brought, and he let out a pleasured sigh, stretching.

He unlatched Ivan from himself, pulling himself to his feet. The weakness had mostly dissipated from his body, but the tiredness remained. His muscles were unnaturally sore.

Alfred dressed himself in what he knew was his, before stepping out of the room. In one hand, he held a golden pocket watch, the chain dangling near the floor. The other hand was on the wall, keeping him steady as he walked.

Downstairs, into the garage. Up the garage, to the hanger. Dragons purred at him as he passed, the creatures seeming to be as sleepless as he. He looked to the path to Zaltana for a few moments, before taking it. He didn't go all the way to her house though, not even enough to see it beyond the bend. He climbed up a portion of the mountain that had enough handholds, shaking like a newborn foal until he reached the top. He began to feel dizzy from the height.

The grotto was unnaturally warm, considering it had snowed a few hours ago. Winter didn't touch this place. A pond, full of colorful fish, seemed to be more like an aquarium instead of something naturally occurring. He sat on a porous rock, watching the fish swim.

Wind rushed past him, but it was warm, and carried the smell of smoke. And yet, nobody joined him. When he felt that if he didn't get up from the rock he never would, he stood up. He bit the tip of his finger, brushing the welling blood where he sat, and left the grotto. The sun had completely risen. He was sure that the breakfast bell had long since rung.

The soreness had faded. He wiped the golden tears that had come down his cheeks. He felt better now.

He held out a hand, giving a low whistle. His hand lit up in blue flame, drawing up his arm. The grotto had been exactly what he needed- recharging in the Grotto of Summer was something he needed to do somewhat consistently to keep most of his strength and magic. The valley had housed the grotto for thousands of years, since his grandmother had melted the icebergs and created it.