Brennon's P.O.V
Dinner had only just begun, but all he wanted to do was get up and leave. His mother had attempted to make small talk, lighten the tension, which failed as Tamlin's only replies were small grunts. He hated how he treated his mother, and at that moment, wanted to throw him across the room.
After they had settled into a sad silence, Brennon began to speak. He was nervous, but didn't want to show it, so he looked his father straight in the eye and said, "I think I should be trained by other courts."
His mother paused and widened her eyes, the topic of leaving wasn't usually well received.
"We have brilliant warriors here that train you, are they not good enough?" Tamlin retorted.
"It's useless if I'm constantly being trained by the same people, I'm going to be High Lord someday, I shouldn't be weak."
"We have guards."
"And when have guards stopped people before."
He knew he had overstepped a boundary but mentioning his grandparents, and felt the icy cold stare glowering at him from the other side of the table. Tamlin took a shaky breath and stood up, his eyes darkening. "If you ever," he growled, "ever, think about leaving these borders for another court, then you are no son of mine."
Reeya began to stay something, although Brennon couldn't hear it, still frozen over Tamlin's words.
"This meal is over," He gruffly said, storming out of the dining room.
His mother looked like she were about to cry.Snapping out of his trance, he turned to her and mustered a half hearted smile. "I hear you're making an extension to the garden."
Hope shone brightly through the tears brimming in her eyes as she began to go into great detail about the tremendous things she was planning. Brennon barely understood any of it, never interested in gardening himself, but hung onto every word she said.
When the meal was over and he was about to leave, she grabbed his hands and whispered, "No matter what, I will always love you, and you will always be my son."
"Love you too mum," he whispered, before creeping back to his own quarters.
It was late evening when he found himself at his desk, pondering for sometime about what to do. He had retrieved the note from Lorelai which he had sneakily stashed in his pocket, and stared at it for what seemed like hours. Should he reply? God how would he even reply? Write on the other side of the paper? Taking a deep purple fountain pen from his desk, he flipped over the paper and tried to formulate a reply.
'Hi! Sadly I cannot ever go to your court-' He growled, no.
'Out of all the people in the world you message me-" Cauldron, no!
He took a deep breath and cleared his mind, which clearly wasn't thinking straight.
'I would've thought you'd be too busy at the camps to ever write to me, slacking off?'
Ugh and that just sounds mean.
He threw the pen down and stalked to his bed to get some rest before pausing...wait. Walking back to the desk, he slowly began to write,
'Carry out a rescue mission and I'll think about it
- B'
The paper stayed there, like it was toying with him, belittling him for thinking it would work. With a sigh, he went to his soft mattress and slept, his mind plagued with nightmares...
Where was he? His head pounded and he felt blood dripping down onto his white shirt. Hissing in pain, he sat up, glancing at the ornate decorations around him.
He was in the throne room? But why? Wasn't he asleep? Plagued with questions, he slowly got up and tried to steady himself, more blood dripping down. He lifted his hand up and delicately stroked it along his head, as he pulled away it was coated with more blood.
Walking to the nearest exit, he paused when he heard a scream. It was a woman's, his mother's. He ran towards the sound, blindly bashing into the manors walls, knocking down painting after painting, desperate to get to his mother.
At last he reached the door to the dining room, he could hear the drunken roar of his fathers laugh inside. Pushing open the heavy doors, his eyes widened at the sight. His mother was down on the ground, beaten black and blue, screaming in agony, her once smiling face contorted into a heart-wrenching, broken mess.
Tamlin stood over her, kicking her ribs, face, everything, again and again. Suddenly, chains wrapped around Brennon's arms and legs; he couldn't move. Struggling against them he screamed, "Mother! Mother." The sound dragged on and on as he cried and screamed over her own cries of torture.
A female voice rained down from above. "Brennon." It shouted, commanding him. "Wake up."
The screaming and torture continued, so he pushed harder at the chains.
"Wake up!" The voice roared at him from above until suddenly-
Waking up, he was drenched in sweat and tears ran down his face. His breaths were ragged and fast -too fast. Clenching his eyes, he begged his heart beat to slow, he willed his mind to calm.
When he finally opened his eyes, his normally shut windows had been opened, the night air breezing through the curtains. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his gaze rested on his desk. The note - it was gone.
Too tired to think about it fully, he went back to sleep, but instead of being plagued by nightmares, his thoughts fell instead to the stars, and he wondered if they ever listened.