But If I Know You... ☆byler☆

Wings wouldn't help you

Up with your turret
Aren't we just terrified?

-Rosyln,
Bon Iver & St. Vincent
...

A blaze of fire licks the darkened sky, the night accompanied by the smoking of spinning wheels. Decreed by King Lonnie, the use of spinning wheels in or within 50 miles of the castle was to be outlawed in protection of the future heir.

 

It's only natural that Queen Joyce sobs to herself that night, alone in the comfort of the young Prince's room as she rocks his newly built crib. The King, entirely engrossed in finding Vecna to regain his stead, had not been present since the announcement of the curse.

It became so obvious, she bitterly thinks, that he was no longer doing this for his son.

A knock on the wood of the doors forces her to compose herself, and she rubs harshly at her face with her sleeves.

"Yes?"

"Your Highness," A deep voice addressed, and in peaks the head of the Captain of the Guard, Sir Hopper. Ever the kind man he was, a caring side to his usual passive aggressiveness.

"I came to check in on the Prince, and, well...you as well." Blinking in surprise, Joyce sniffs, refusing to meet his eyes as she peered down at the sleeping baby.

"Did my husband send you?"

The words came out colder than she wanted them to be. She'd have imagined the King would need what was supposedly his right hand man, but it would have been uncharacteristic of Lonnie to depend on others to do his bidding.

"Yes." Hopper replies. Or rather, lied. She snorts to herself, shaking her head.

"Why are you here, Hopper?"

Once again, it's not meant to sound rude, but she'd always had a genuine curiosity that sometimes came across as obnoxious.

"Joyce," he begins, not Sir Hopper, Captain of the guard, but Hopper, her childhood friend. "Your child was just cursed by a malevolent deity. I don't know anyone who wouldn't want to be next to their kid at all times now."

The name is unsaid.

She sniffs again, nose burning.

"He's just a baby, Hopper. Not even a year old and he's already facing the consequences to his father's actions. My little Auoran. And what's worse, it should have given that damn man some sort of guilt, but he's out there making a bonfire while trying to win back his pride. The moment I brought my Auroran to my life and I've already lost him...how is that fair?"

Hopper is not a man of words, but she knows he tries as he mulls over his words gently.

"It's not. Damn it, it's not.  I can't make this better with words but you need to be hopeful on this one. For damn sake, I'm the pessimist here, Joyce. You know how weird it feels to be the hopeful one here?

If this curse is real, these otherworldly things that exist from the unknown that we'll probably never discover, who's to say that a cure doesn't exist?" He rants, almost angrily.

 

Joyce looks at him, eyes owlish as she stares at the constantly disgruntled man before her.