The Raven

Nine

In anticipation of his mother's return, the raven slides back under the door in his shadow form before he can be caught lurking about the corridor against his mother's explicit instruction. Quickly, he returns to his natural state and busies himself with practicing minor magic. He ensures to use magic that cannot be seen from the slight gap under the door; he would not want to cause a ruckus. However, if his mother finds him not practicing at all, she would likely be incredibly infuriated with him. His choice to remain unnoticed in the tower is obviously the safest course of action and should make his mother happy. Perhaps "happy" is not the correct term; Raven is unsure that he has ever seen the woman genuinely happy before. Not even a sliver of delight has ever graced her expression while in his presence.

He is not sure how long he practices the menial tasks he mastered long ago, the urge to do something more exciting bubbling in his stomach. However, he stuffs it back down, focusing on his preplanned course instead. There are some things he would rather keep to himself, and the true extent of his magic happens to be one of the most significant. Besides, if there is even the slightest possibility he could be found out by someone other than his mother, the punishment would likely be dire. The door to his room opens suddenly, revealing his mother. After a moment, when the raven is sure his mother has noticed his actions, he calmly ceases his magic to ask, "Is everything alright, Mother?"

"Yes, yes," she answers hurriedly, waving a hand in dismissal at the question in an apparent attempt to keep the truth from him. Raven briefly wonders whether or not she knows how easy to read she can be at times. "There was just a small pest problem that the guards eventually took care of."

Pest? Is she really calling the prince himself a pest? The raven wonders how kindly the king and queen would take such a remark against their only son--and the country's future ruler, at that. Something within him encourages him to speak up, some inexplicable and unknown force urging the raven to defend the prince. It is confusing to him but relatively prominent, leaving a strange twist in his stomach. However, he bites his tongue, fearful of his own mother's wrath should he do anything to spark the hatred within her, especially after an unexpected visit to the tower by the prince himself. The raven is not sure why no one is allowed to know of his existence, but he will not audibly question it.

"Now, I will be gone the rest of the day. I expect you to continue practicing your magic while I am away," she informs him, looking at him as if she already knows he will not. It is like she knows he will spend the whole time dreaming--but what she does not know is that it will be the so-called "pest" that he will be dreaming of. It will be the probably charming and definitely handsome prince that he thinks of while absolutely not practicing magic. "It appears the coast is clear now, so you may practice something more useful than... whatever it is you are currently doing."

"Yes, Mother," he responds mechanically, the words leaving his lips in reflex instead of will; the response is preprogrammed into his brain, one that simply slips out without any thought. Accepting his noncommittal answer, his mother gives a short nod before exiting the room. When he is alone again, Raven finds himself sitting on the windowsill, looking out over the garden. Is he hoping the prince will find his way there? Possibly. But even if not, Raven still enjoys admiring the view of the tall trees and lovely flowers.

If he was not so afraid of the possibility that his mother would find out and what the repercussions would be, Raven could easily slip under the locked door in his shadow form and explore the castle--and find his prince. He does not like to make his mother angry, though, and one would not blame him, as she is far from kind when that flame burns within her. In fact, she is downright scary and oftentimes violent, as well--the raven has the scars to prove it.

Raven swallows thickly, the lump in his throat catching as he tries to shake away the fear-inducing thoughts. It is probably not worth all the trouble it will cause just to have a few moments of freedom. Taking the chance to leave his prison in his tower room or possibly talking to someone other than his mother is not worth the relentless and ruthless consequences that will surely follow. A sigh escapes him as he tries to convince himself that sneaking away simply to let his eyes roam over the handsome prince just once more is not worth the whipping he would receive in return. As much as he would love to risk it, to spend even a single moment more in the prince's presence, Raven has not yet learned how to use healing magic... and his mother can be brutal.

Instead of attempting even a temporary escape, the raven decides to simply continue with his favorite pastime--gazing out at the flowers, and imagining himself flying through the garden in his feathered form. Of his many forms, his raven is his favorite; it is the one that offers him the greatest reprieve from his monotonous and painstakingly lonely everyday life. Somehow, being a bird soothes him, comforting him with a promise of eventual freedom. The raven imagines himself to be free, similarly to the many birds he observes from his place in the window. They flutter carelessly, sometimes aimlessly, through the flowers and the trees, their wings kissing the sky and their talons touching the grass. If only he could be that kind of bird.

With a shake of his head, Raven instead focuses on something less depressing, his train of thought immediately switching tracks and leading him back to the positive part of his daydreams. He closes his eyes and allows his mind to wander, imagining himself soaking in the sunshine, his feet firmly planted in the grass, and the scent of freshly cut flowers adorning his long, black hair practically fills his nose. And the best part of this particular dream? The handsome prince is by his side, smiling lovingly at him.

If only his life could be different.