She felt blessed, like the Stars themselves had granted her this. There was no limit, no rules or constraints. She was boundless; she was home, safe and secure in his unbreakable embrace.
~
Shackled in an abrupt and demanding upbringing, Althera is...
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Why are you doing this?" Zephyra asked, taking a swig from the skin of water the girl, who she now knew was called Althera - a sweet and solitary name for such a lonely, thoughtful person.
Althera shrugged. "I just see a part of myself in you, and it pains me," she admitted, her demeanor sad and forlorn. She gave Zephyra a half-hearted smile before busying herself with sorting through the various jars rolling across the floor of the cell.
After being granted permission by the guards, who both looked to have wet themselves after the man - a prince, she presumed - had stared them down with such a ferocious gaze that sent even Zephyra shuddering, Althera had spread all of the things she'd brought with her to the dungeons and pressed Zephyra to eat and drink. She'd been polite to the girl and taken a bite or two from the sour olives and sugared tomatoes before saying she was full. The food was worse than the darkness she had endured; in the end, she'd resolved into just the water, which Althera gladly handed her.
"How old are you?" It was a casual question enough, and she had deserved the right to interrogate those around her. It was also a good way to analyze all the people surrounding her so that she may be more prepared for whatever was to come next. Althera eyed her - not suspiciously, though it still made her feel uneasy.
"Seventeen." A child, then, Zephyra noted as she plucked at the frayed threads that patched up the skin of the water pouch. In her tribe, Althera would either be a young prodigy in weaponry or a legendary weaver amongst the women. That was what every tribesman at that age aimed for, anyway, and it was uncommon for them not to achieve it.
If Daeto was here, he'd have approved greatly of Althera. She was slender in stature, and her watchful, pale green eyes would charm any ill-fated man to do her bidding. Female warriors in Zephyra's tribe had all been trained to do that for generations; there hasn't been one male target any of them had failed to entrance yet.
Daeto. That name was like a thousand rampaging needles stinging and penetrating Zephyra's skin, stampeding in a hoard down her arms and legs, creating a numbness that felt almost comforting. But there was no comfort for her here - there was no comfort for her anywhere. She was alone, and that was it.
Althera inspected her. "How old are you?" There was no sign in her eyes that made her untrustworthy. It wouldn't hurt to tell her, Zephyra debated. She clicked her tongue.
"Twenty." She was actually still nineteen years of age, though she was to turn twenty in a month or so. There was no need to be too accurate. It wasn't as if it was fundamental for her to know the exact number.
Women the same age as Zephyra would be invincible when it came to the arts - both household duties and fighting. They'd all been trained relentlessly ever since they had crawled out of their mothers' wombs to ensure that the heritage and traditions of the tribe were not lost. Men stuck more to just learning the ways of battle, though some tended to become kind-hearted farmers or talented blacksmiths.
Althera merely nodded like she was unsurprised with the reply. Drawing the cloak Althera had offered her tighter around her, Zephyra tipped her head back and took another gulp from the pouch. The liquid was smooth and fresh on her tongue, cooling the fires that racked her bones, despite the ever-frosty temperature in her little compartment. She had observed, after the couple of days she'd spent here, that the conditions of the dungeon was much better than she had initially thought, though they were no match to the prison camps her tribe built to contain the prisoners of war or petty thieves who tried to steal from her and her people.
"Are you sure there is nothing else you would like?" Althera raised a tin can, waving it in front of Zephyra. She reeled back with a slow shake of her head. If she had any more of that unappetizing mess, she'd vomit right there, and the reeking odor that already infested the dungeon didn't help the matter. A look that baffled Zephyra struck the girl's youthful face, but she said nothing and returned to her bundle of jars.
No one had visited her since she arrived, for they were all somewhat terrified of her. She could see the fear in all of those men's eyes. But it was only Althera who'd shown even a drop of kindness toward her. Zephyra had found it a nuisance at first that she was lounging around in her stars-damned cell, but now that she had confessed she felt as if she dwelt somewhere inside of Zephyra - which may or may not sound a bit strange, even though it brought reassurance to her - Althera's presence wasn't that much of a bother anymore. It was soothing, actually, to have someone feel so strongly about being caged up somewhere in the dark. She didn't have to stay by Zephyra's side, yet she chose to.
"You don't have to do this, you know," Zephyra mumbled, draping her arm over her knees. Althera looked up from her work, bewildered by her question.
There was a moment of silence before she responded, "Yes. Yes, I do." Zephyra didn't argue further with that and resumed drinking from the pouch.
Beyond the metal bars separating Zephyra from freedom stood the same keen-eyed prince who'd barked orders at the trembling guards. He had been waiting for almost an hour now, leaning in boredom against the rough walls, unaware of the grime coating the stone that seeped into his tunic. He seemed to be waiting for Althera - Zephyra never missed a single glance he shot the girl's way. His build was of a warrior, lean and muscled with the constant training he had to have had, partly because he was a prince and needed to learn those arts well.
As she surveyed him carefully, sizing him up and examining the way his body moved, the man's sunlit eyes flickered to hers, and an electric current that shook Zephyra to the core writhed its way through her limbs. A smiled softly - shyly, almost. But she could see the arrowed past of violence and torture that haunted his mind. Something about the way he unhitched himself from the wall and came up toward Althera made her heart beat a little faster. Something about that sleek, perfectly carved jaw which twitched slightly when he noticed her gaze on him made her squint her eyes. There was definitely something familiar about his gliding, feline prowl.
"It's time to go, Althera," he murmured, loud enough for both Zephyra and Althera to hear. Althera turned to look at him, and Zephyra caught that split second of adoring relief light up in her eyes, like she was astonished he was still there and glad that he'd stayed.
She stood and brushed off the dust covering her full, immaculate skirts before directing her gaze at Zephyra, her expression holding a silent promise. "I will visit you again soon, Zephyra." A shiver stretched down her back at the sound of her name. She hadn't heard it until then, and it only reminded her of how much she'd failed her tribe. And Daeto.
Zephyra nodded, unable to find the words to express her gratitude to the girl. The bars were tugged open and Althera exited through the small gap. The guards were still afraid Zephyra might find a chance to escape. They usually kept their distance, and she was partially grateful. Only the Stars knew what she would do to them if they came too near.
All Zephyra, Queen of the Westwind Tribe, could hear was the creaking of metal and the mutter of voices as the darkness embraced her once again.
