Page 16 of Scars and Burns

The current blades I hold are the only ones I ever fight with and carry with me at all times. A making of my own design. Equal weight of the handle and blade. The handles are intricate but the most impressive part is the blades themselves. Razor sharp with a needle’s point. There is a wave to the blades allowing more grip in the ridges when it comes in contact with another. I can then bring the hilt of my blades together and with a turn and a click make a double edged weapon. However, my favorite feature is with a click of a button on the handles, the blades expand and turn into whips with the utmost flexibility and fluidity.

“Will you spare me? It’s been a long day”

I swirl my blades in my hands. Half smiling at him recalling when we first started training. His ruthlessness and how every time I faltered he would strike the final blow.

“Would you?”

13

Aeron

“We will raid them in three days’ time.”, my Father says harshly. “You will kill her and add her power to your own.”

I stare at him in silence. I don’t need him telling me what my task is during this raid. It has been clear for over a decade now. It will be as easy as all my other kills I’ve made to prove my worth. This one might hold a special place in my sinister heart. Watching the twinkle leave the little flower’s eyes after I’ve seen how pure her soul is.

“There must be no slip ups.” My Father says, pulling me attention back to him. “Aeron, are you even listening to me?” I roll my eyes. How could I not be listening to him? He demands all attention whenever he speaks or even enters a room. Only ever calling me Aeron. As if I was just another one of his generals. Not his son that he forced to become the darkness Fae to ever exist. Accelerating the fiery rage burning inside of me.

“Yes, Perseus, I am listening.” I responded. Adding a little extra disgust to his name. Knowing he hates to be called that over ‘My King’, or ‘Your Grace’, or any other title that emanates power.

Sighing I say, “King Elio is too consumed with Princess Saphrinaand her betrothal to Prince Proteus of the Celestial Realm to even give a second thought to his ward. Not that it would matter anyway. He is repulsed by her. Has been ever since he laid eyes on her. With the devastation of our other lesions in his castle I will be in and out before he even knows I am there.”

He nods. Giving a grunt of approval.

* * *

Unable to withstand another moment in my Father’s dreadful castle. I head to my billet where my closest friend and confidant, Aemond, is waiting.

Aemond is the same age as me. And the only other person who knows the full depth of my plan to overthrow my Father. Having planted the seed in my mind himself.

It was the same day I had my first interaction with the little flower. She was playing with a serpent and asked if I was a monster.

He lost his family to starvation. He made his way to the castle. I found him that night breaking into the kitchens in search of food. I saw the look of desperation on his face. Cheeks sunken in. Collarbone showing. I could see his ribs through his tunic. Barely enough meat on his bones for the garment to stay on. He had already grabbed some bread and started eating it when I found him.

He seemed so lost and alone. Having been in a similar situation, I decided to show him mercy. Heading to the pantry for a sweet. I grab an extra one for him. Tossing it to him. He drops the bread and catches it. Shock on his face.

“You aren’t going to turn me in? Or kill me?” He asks.

I glance over at him as I take a seat. Motioning for him to come sit besideme. He does. Still skeptical for obvious reasons. I simply answer, “No”

“Why?” He asks in confusion.

“Do you want me to kill you?”

“N - no of course not. I’m just a little confused, is all, your Grace.”

Your Grace. How formal of him. Like most he has no idea of the shame I carry with me. The disapproval my Father bestowed upon me.

I shrug my shoulders. “I’ve been killing all day. I don’t need to kill in the dead of night too. Plus, we’re in the kitchens. Wouldn’t be very sanitary if I were to kill you here.”

Giving me a small nervous laugh, he says, “No, I suppose not.”

“You may finish your sweet. But I don’t want to catch you stealing again.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.”

We finish eating in silence. You can tell from the tension in the air there is much both of us would like to say to the other. But neither of us dare to make a sound.

Finishing his sweet and getting up to leave. About to head out the same way he came. I stopped him. “Would you like to stay?” Not all that entirely sure why I am asking him this. Nor do I have a clue as to how I would even pull it off.

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