Melburn is a kingdom where one would not leave their child to play freely. The land was prosperous, with green fields, and rich farm. Businesses growing in each corner, and the citizens filled the markets. But they lived in fear under their king, palace guards roaming through the streets, and they protected who paid.
The large amount of beggars still littered the streets, helpless against the tax regulations, and no work to meet ends. Their children rummaging for food. It was a sad sight for her everytime she passed the main east gate.
It was already dark, the sky changing color as the sun moved along. The streets were dark, the only illumination was coming from the street gas lamps. She passed a tavern, a short dirty man sat in front of the door, a bottle of drink in one hand. He didn't seem to notice them.
"I don't like this side of the kingdom," Eric commented, eyeing the same man.
"They didn't have this much beggars a few years ago," Clary recalled. Eric shook his head, "That was when King Leo was still alive."
"I guess his son isn't doing such a great job," She commented.
"No." He answered, then continued, "Let's find a good place to rest tonight. I'm sure you're tired," He nodded when Clary nodded to him as an answer. She was tired, the whole day they had sat on the caravan watching the day change. Milburn was farther away than she thought.
They went through the east side of the kingdom, around to the north side where the high class lived. Their large houses and beautiful gardens were in each corner of the street. Eric and Clary passed the neighborhood to the edge of the wall. The large wooden gates closed shut, guarded by two large men. A large sword hung on each of their hip.
"Good evening," Eric called out to them the moment they were close enough. They noticed them from afar immediately. Clary noticed the way they moved, like dogs aware of a rabbit.
The older one approached them, "Going out for the night," He said, checking the caravan. He nodded quickly at her, "You have a pretty wife," He said to Eric.
Clary glanced at him. Her cheeks burning red. He thought she was his wife.
"Yes she is, isn't she. We're planning on moving to the mountains." Eric answered. She had thought he would deny it and explained why she was sitting next to him. It stirred her feelings inside.
"To the mountains?" The younger one said, "What are you going to do there?"
"We have a farm, my father's." Eric lied, engaging the conversation. "Hopefully with the little one coming…" Eric turned to her, then held her hand.
"You make me blush," Was all Cary could say. She was a bad liar, that was something her mother always said to her. It was better if she played the part without saying anything.
"Oh congratulations!" The older man gave Eric a hand shake then went to open the gates. "Well we don't want to stand in your way." The younger one said, helping the other. Eric waved to them, leading them both past the kingdom gate and to the open fields.
"Why did you lie?" Clary asked, now the thought of being pregnant with his child rested at the back of her mind. If only they were allowed to be together, she would.
"It was necessary. Those guards don't have a lot of pay. They'll ask for money if we want to pass. If he thinks we're a nice starting little family, he'll feel less willing to ask us for money. And besides, he already thought we were married anyway."
"That's true." Clary agreed. She would happily avoid paying any unnecessary expenses. She didn't have a lot with her, since her mother had mentioned robbers in the way to Napolis, she decided to only bring enough for the way.
"There's a nice field we can make camp," Clary pointed at the empty field ahead of them. Eric nodded, "Since it's close to the kingdom it should be safe as well."
Clary stretched her legs as soon as they stopped. She felt the soft grass covered field under her feet, small berry bushes growing around a large oak tree. Eric went to let the horses rest near a stream of water. While she went to retrieve their belongings. She had prepared a good amount of food for their journey. That included a good amount of dried meat and vegetables along with herbs. She took out the small pot she took from her mother. It was the same pot she used back in her early days as a gypsy.
"Ah, are you going to cook?" Eric asked from the back door, the height of the caravan only showed half of his body. The wind, blowing hard against his face. She nodded, "I think some carrots soup, bread, and dried meat What do you think?"
"Sounds good to me," Eric answered, climbing up into the caravan. He squatted next to her, digging into his suitcase. He frowned, "I was so sure I've put my tent in there,"
"Tent? What for?" Clary asked, confused.
"What for? To sleep in of course. If you sleep inside, I'll sleep outside." He explained. Eric sat, seeming disappointed with himself. She put a hand on his shoulder, "I don't mind sharing a caravan with you."
His eyes sharpened, the edge of his lips pulled into a smile, "I hate to think what Vixxen would do if we shared a caravan." His words caught her off guard. Clary bit her bottom lip, unsure of herself.
"Vixxen? Is this about the kiss?"
"Yes. Why did you say he was just your friend when he wasn't?" Eric turned to face her, one arm resting on his knee. His eyes stared into hers, and she could feel he was hurt.
"He really is my friend, well, still. He used to be my lover," Clary admitted. The expression on Eric's face did not change, he was listening carefully. She went on, "I told him a year back that it was not meant to be. And we agreed to be friends, but he still treats me as if we are still together."
"Yes, we elves have that sometimes. Once we are given the freedom, we never step back,"
Clary nodded to this. It explains why Vixxen never held back towards her in any occasion, even after their relationship ended. She's quite surprise they don't teach this in schools. Witches should know such things about elves.
"I didn't know this." Clary admitted, waiting for him to say something else.
"Did your parents know?" He asked straightforwardly.
"No." Clary replied. It was probably the biggest secret in her life. Most witches have a believe that Elfs although they look similar to them, they were still not human. It was a taboo to take an elf as a lover. Some even say it is disgusting. Although she never understood why. They were, just as they say, just like them.
"I hope now you understand. He's just a friend. But he used to be my lover." Clary said. She recalled the nights she sat by him, looking up at the stars, a thick blanket holding them together. She was glad he was there to fill her emptiness.
"I understand. But next time I'm going to put a plate in front of his face if he tries to kiss you." Eric said, rather sternly. He chuckled, then moved to take the pan.
Clary stood by as he made a small fireplace, his hair falling over his forehead. A tight knot formed in her chest. A heavy feeling she had grown used to. But now that he was there, it was a constant reminder of what she could not have.
"It's done. If you may?" Eric looked over his back, his hand pointed towards the wood. She nodded, her hand outstretched towards it, and from the tip of her finger she felt her energy flowing through her pores. It created fire, a long slow movement of dancing flames. It burned the wood easily.
"Beautiful." Eric whispered. "You were always a talented fire bender."
"I still am," She admitted, "And you know there is something new that you don't know about me?"
"What?" He raised his brows. Clary gave him a playful look, her eyes locked into his as she stepped closer to the stream. She turned to it, her sight focused upon the liquid she wished to control. Slowly a ball of water emerged from the stream.
"Amazing! You can manipulate two elements." Eric clapped in excitement.
"My father was the first one who saw it," Clary took the ball of water and placed it in the pan. Elements are the hardest components to master, compared to moving objects or growing plants. It was a gift for a witch to have such talents, it was even rarer to have two.
"I can imagine. He's always close to you," Eric sat by the fire, eyeing the dancing flames.
"Yes he was. But not since Miranda died." Clary mentioned. She knelt next to the fire, focusing her energy enough to make the pot float just above the fire.
"I'm sorry I was not there…" Eric started, but Clary waved him away. "No. I understand you were busy. It was in the middle of your exams!" She said, cutting carrots on a wooden plank. Eric began moving towards her, meaning to help her but she gestured him to sit down.
"I will cook," She declared, a thin smile on her face. The mention of Miranda always brought a heavy shadow over her heart. Her beloved sister, her one and only best friend. It was hard when they heard the news of her illness, it was even harder to let her go. Although they all saw it coming.
Clary continued peeling and cutting carrots. It was her favorite vegetables. Mixed with chicken, potatoes, cabbage, tomatoes, and spices. Clary prepared it all while Eric sat beside her, watching attentively. Sometimes he helped her carry the bowl or steer the pot. And although Clary wasn't the type of person to have someone there to help her cook. She enjoyed him there.
After dinner, Clary excused herself and went on inside. She had offered Eric to help clean, but he insisted that he would clean it all by himself. He must have seen it on her face how tired she was. It was after all late at night by the time she was done cooking.
She felt the tiredness pulling her down as she laid on the soft bed Eric had prepared. A few layers of thick blankets and a pillow. The warmth and comfort relaxed her body. She wondered where Eric would be sleeping, since he only made one.
"Eric." Clary called. Eric paused halfway up the stairs, peering in. "Yes?"
"Where are you going to sleep?" She asked sleepily. Her eyes grew heavier by each blink.
"I still have a blanket for myself, don't worry," He replied, then climbed into the caravan. His steps light, the shaking sensation drifted her to sleep.
The dream she had changed from time to time. They were not nightmares, but they were confusing and unpleasant. She would dream of her family members, running and hiding from her in the forest in a game of hide and seek. Their laughter echoing through the forest, but still nowhere to be seen. Large red eyes staring down at her, striking fear into her heart.
In her depairs, all she could hear was their laughter. No matter how hard she kicked, ran, and hide, she could not run away. Tonight, it was the same.
Her eyes flung open, gasping for air. Clary touched her cheeks, they were wet stricken with tears. The annoyance, anger, and frustration of her dream chased her awake. She pushed herself to sit down, dizziness blurring her eyes.
Beside her Eric slept crouched under a blanket, his hand for a pillow. She frowned, "Eric," She shook him, "Eric wake up, don't sleep on the floor. That's too cold for you, you'll get sick!"
Eric turned in his sleep, facing her, his eyes glued tight. "Clary, what is it?"
"You're going to get sick," She answered flatly. "Come and sleep with me,"
"Clary please don't," He said under his breath. She could feel he was drifting back to sleep, his muscles relaxing. She decided if he will not come to bed then she will take bed to him.
Elf are sensitive creatures that much she knew from her parents. They could do heavy work for a long period of time. But good sleep was a requirement. Clary returned to her bed and pulled it a step closer to him. She pulled one side of the blanket then jumped over to the other side.
"Forgive me," She said before pushing him to roll into the bed.
Eric groaned. "Clary!" He protested, his eyes still closed. Clary waited in her spot for him to say something else. But Eric said nothing more after, sound asleep. She guessed as much, that he would not be that bothered being moved to somewhere more comfortable.
Clary pulled his blanket over him, then laid next to him. Her own blanket covering her from the cold night air. Beside her, Eric offered a source of warmth she gladly took. Carefully she moved even closer, her eyelids hung heavily. Her mind wandering to her sister Miranda, her wavy brown hair blowing in the wind, her sweet smile, the joy that surrounded her. Her grandmother's smile appeared after, a plate of cookies in her hands. "I love you." She whispered to them.
She could only miss them now. And she missed them still in her sleep.