I felt my insides crumple as I lay in bed still in the cold embrace of reality. I did not cry. My eyes were bone dry. I let the scalding vapours of the truth waft around me, threatening to melt away my skin and reach my heart. I wanted it to corrode me and break me down to the point that my heart strings snapped. I wanted it to screw up my heart so bad that the cold blood pulsating through it finds an outlet to drain from my body to kill me in the slow anticipation of every forthcoming agony laden second to settle the stillness of death through my body the same way she caused it to settle through my Arya.
Shit.
I felt the pain sear through my skin and will the tears to sting the back of my eyes. I jumped as a sob broke through my lips followed by another and another until I was hiccuping with my claws carving into the mahogany headboard of my bed. I hate it. I hate the vulnerability that motherhood had filled me with and I loathe the loss of that exact vulnerability that exact fear of bad tidings that had raced through my mind every second of the day that was spent without Arya cradled in my arms. I loathe the fact that I wouldn't ever have to deal with fear that all-consuming that caused me to catch myself murmuring a prayer to the gods I had withdrawn my trust from when my husband died. Betrayed. Yet again.
A soft knock sounds from the mirror behind me. I stiffen up and wipe the tears off my face. I sit up drawing my dressing gown around me like a cloak over the wounds sustained from the war within.
"I wouldn't have come if it weren't urgent" his insipid baritone swirled in the air stirring up my anxiety "I m sorry" toneless. Meaningless. Soulless.
"Oh no you don't need to be" I say "I am good at coping up with my grief" I say as I walk over to the mirror. The looking glass.
The looking glass. The only bits of sorcery that we clung onto after we captured her. The only bits of sorcery that I clung onto.
My brows knit together as my fingers trail the dark outline of the glass which blossomed to the centre half obscuring him. The outline was pitch black like the depths of night. Pitch black. Obsidian.
"She is taking over" I say grimly. Noori nods in approval and fixates his feline eyes on me. He is a lion. He is the forthcoming of danger wrapped up in magnificence.
"It's about Luv" he said " I was pondering on the decision of sending him into hiding until we've gained control over Amaya again"
"He's not your own" I say, mimicking the tonelessness of his own voice. A taste of his own medicine.
"For Noor" he corrected in an endeavour of masking the compassion his heart was barely capable of.
"He is not her's either" I say
"Noor wan-" he started but I raise my hand to interject him. The lion falls silent obediently.
"Tell him" I announce as his face started losing colour. Ah the yearning for fatherhood could cut through even the most magnificent of hides.
"Bring him to the council tonight" I say "we need our boy king to save us"
.*♡✧✧♡* ｡*♡✧✧♡* ｡*♡✧✧♡*.
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The White Rose
AdventureThe same woman has been showing up in Luv's dreams. He cannot shake off the memory of her smile or her scent or her flavor on his tongue. With every visit she adds a breadcrumb to the trail that would finally lead him to her but as the days go by Lu...
