Light and Shadows

A Maw Walker by Any Other Name

The Dark Prince of Revendreth rose early - as much as the concept existed in a realm with no true day or night - excited to finally bring to life a fantasy he had harboured an embarrassingly long time.

He was going to make the Maw Walker breakfast.

Fastening his dressing gown, he left her sleeping in his bed while he wended his way through the shadows of Darkwall Tower to the kitchen where his dredgers had begun his requested preparations. Most of the actual cooking was already complete, but it was Renathal who arranged the various fruits, spreads, and dainty pastries just so on the ornate tray, and he himself who carried it back up the many flights of stairs with Breakfist behind him, balancing the second tray of cups and carafes. One contained a proper breakfast tea, the other the thick, black, sludge-like coffee the Maw Walker had taken to drinking while in Zereth Mortis. Renathal had an idea she was living solely off the substance - something about the pinched, starved look new to her face - and part of the execution of this fantasy was utilitarian. He was determined to see her eat while he had the opportunity.

When he reached his bedroom and nudged the door open, he found the Maw Walker as he had expected: awake, sitting up and pushing back her tousled hair. She smiled sleepily at his entrance, then blinked when she noticed Breakfist behind him.

"Oh!" She snatched up the thick coverlet and raised it to her bare shoulders. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting company. Hello, Breakfist," she added with a polite nod at the dredger as he stopped short next to the bed.

"Breakfast for our Maw Walk- or...uh..."

The well-trained butler looked momentarily lost. He blinked muddily up at the Dark Prince as if hoping for a cue, but it was the Maw Walker who answered first.

"You can just call me my name, you know," she said.

Renathal, setting his tray of delicacies carefully on the bed and seating himself beside it, winced. He knew the Maw Walker's offer was well-intentioned, but his Dredgers' courtly etiquette would sooner see them fling themselves from Darkwall's high terrace than refer to anyone of her station by her personal name.

"Thank you, Breakfist, that will do," Renathal interjected, taking the dredger's tray of drink accoutrement and rescuing him from further awkwardness.

Breakfist gave Renathal an appropriately grateful bow.

"Your Highness." He turned to the Maw Walker. "Maw - Lady."

And he shuffled quickly from the room, snapping the door shut on the Maw Walker's giggles.

"Really, Ren, your dredgers stand too much on formality," she remarked, letting the blanket fall back to the bed.

Renathal, unwilling to be distracted, did not look up from his preparations atop the second tray.

"It is many eons too late to undo their training, I fear," he said, inflicting the foul-smelling coffee on his elegant porcelain teacup and passing it to her untempered.

The Maw Walker groaned gently.

"Have I told you I love you?" she asked, accepting the cup with eager hands.

"Not for several hours," he said seriously, now pouring his own, more satisfactory beverage. "Feel free to correct this oversight."

"Lean forward a bit."

She beckoned Renathal with a finger. He paused and leant dutifully over the tray.

"I love you," the Maw Walker murmured languidly against his lips, punctuating the pronouncement with a lazy kiss, still flavoured with the dregs of sleep.