Throne of Glass: unOrdinary Fanfic

(5) Of Deals and Devils Dens part 4

Confrontations are made, secrets traded, and gambling with lives is no easy feat

Previously on Throng of Shards: (I'm looking at you Moon, and yes dear readers, it gets worse)

The ravenette was snapped out of his memories, as the elderly man knocked on a door to the right a little ways down the short hallway.

"Send him in." A soft feminine voice answered from the other side.

John froze. That was her. Undoubtedly, Athena was behind that door waiting for him.

"Are you alright young man?" Uncle asked, as John began breathing heavily. The senior pat his back, and gave him an understanding smile.

"If you aren't ready, you can take a few minutes for yourself-"

"No." John forced his nerves down, staring at the thin wooden rectangle that was separating him from his missing sister of ten years.

"I'm ready as I'll ever be." And he marched forward, opening the door.

——————

(Mentions of trauma, violence, and committing vertical tortilla chip. This one is angsty with some wholesome, viewer discretion is advised)

The room was small, but decorated with what could only be described as the essence of home. Bright light poured through an open square window on the back wall and threw broken shafts of light onto the carpeted floor. Two cushioned chairs that looked like the definition of comfort stood across from each other, the window and a round polished oak table in between them. The table contained several plated desserts on its reflective surface, macaroons, chocolate turnovers, cookies, and what looked to be a vanilla bunt cake coated with a perfect glaze orange in color. A small bonsai tree was situated on top of a corner shelf to the left of the door which opened into the right side of the room.

Draped in a long black fluffy coat, (it's quality elaborate enough to clearly be designer) a moderately tall woman sat in the chair furthest from the door. Her arms lay folded over her chest, a spent cigarette in her mouth held up by two shaking fingers. Long strands of white hair framed her face and fell to her waist, fluttering slightly in the cold draft coming in from the window. Her heeled ankles were crossed, bouncing in what could either be anxiety or excitement.

She turned to the door as John entered, and she stared at him through her half-moon spectacles, expression hopeful but laced with guilt. Dark silver irises clashed with pale gold, and they were unable to look away despite the pain it caused. She breathed out slowly, a whispy puff of smoke rising up and out towards the window. Stamping out the light on the marble ashtray she discarded the cigarette, biting her pink glossed lip.

She almost looked like she was about to cry.

"John... little John," she chuckled, eyes misty. "...well I guess you aren't so little anymore, huh?" The raven haired boy noted that her voice was still fairly similar to how he remembered it. Smooth, soft and sweet and just like their mothers.

'It hurts. It hurts to hear her voice, to remember.'

He stepped through the opening, closing the door behind him. He didn't know what to say, or if he even should say anything, his emotions and thoughts were all too jumbled at the moment. Was this even real? Was she even there? Was this really his sister?

It could all be a trick. A trap. Nowhere was safe, no one could be trusted, no one-!

"I'm proud of you because you let it out, you didn't ignore how you feel about this whole situation. Typically you try to hide it, and shove down your feelings- don't you try to deny it!" Seraphina jabbed a stern finger to his chest as he tried to speak up and claim the opposite.