Chapter 106:
Scent of Violets
After a month had passed in the palace, Silas found himself more and more resigned to the fact that he would be staying in the palace longer than he expected. The young physician, Earnest, had been sent to treat him once every few days, and it helped Silas keep track of the passing days. The only contact he had between the outside and himself was the changing shift of the guards and the small view of the window to the outside. Snowflakes trailed down the window, chilling the small cell Silas had been confined in.
"How long have I been here?" Silas asked, regaining some of his voice as he took a sip of the warm water prepared by Earnest. The chains had been loosened enough for Silas to hold the wooden cup in his own two hands, bringing him a feeling of freedom he had not felt in a long time. His dry, cracked lips were wetted, but Earnest knew the elf was still lacking water.
Earnest looked towards Silas with a frown, "It has been over a month since you've arrived at the palace." The words rolled off of his tongue like glue, making it difficult for him to admit that the palace, the prince himself had been keeping this elf in the palace against his will for over a month. It disgusted him.
While he had treated elves before, he saw a different side of the elves through Silas. Initially the young elf was violent, irritable, and wounded, but the longer he treated the elf, the more he found the elf had begun to calm around him. While neither of them trusted each other, there was a sense of strange understanding between the two that allowed them to civilly cooperate, more so than any of the other prisoners in the palace.
It's only a matter of time before that bastard comes down here again. Silas thought to himself bitterly, drinking the last of the clear water in the wooden cup. A string of water dripped down his chin, wetting his cold chin with a stream of warm water.
"Once you finish that cup, have another." Earnest said with some concern. "Your body is lacking water. Is your mouth dry?"
Silas nodded, "I am only given one glass of water with my meal." Even just one meal was enough to sustain him. Though he had lost weight, his chin had sharpened, his fingers had become slightly narrower, losing the fullness of plump flesh.
The young marquis sighed, "That's not-" His words were cut short by one of the patrolling guards, his eyes looking through the small window in the door as he said with a frown. "Your food is here." There was a clicking sound before the meal was slid under the door through a narrow slit, allowing Earnest to grab the tray the items had been placed on.
Today, the meal was just as simple as before. There was a bowl of lukewarm, watery brown soup and a piece of hard bread. Earnest stood up, staring at the platter of inedible food with a look of disgust.
"They usually bring it closer so I can eat it." Silas said, resigned, staring at the soup with a blank look, placing down the cup of warm water.
Even for an elf, this treatment is too much. Earnest picked up the tray, bringing it close enough for Silas to grab the items for himself without getting too close, sliding the metal tray against the cold stone floor. He felt like he were coaxing a feral animal.
Silas did not say a word as he grabbed the bowl of soup.
Something is stuck to the bottom of the bowl. Silas thought to himself, his expression unchanging as he stared forward at Earnest, who had been staring at the bowl of soup with a look of disgust. I'll have to distract Earnest before I can grab it. I can't let him see it. Whatever the letter was, it was meant for him, not the physician.
Calmly, Silas held the bowl in his hand, his right hand covering the small parchment piece as he said, "Earnest, don't look over." This trick often worked on Cirdan and Aurelia when they were children. He hoped it would work just as well now.
Earnest paused, "...why?" His tone was full of questioning.
Silas restrained a laugh as he stated, "There's a rat coming this way, in the corner over there." Hopefully he's afraid of rodents.
Earnest paused, his eyes slowly widening as he turned around abruptly, his face growing pale. "W-where is it!" Silas reached and grabbed the parchment, tucking it under the sleeve of his tattered long sleeve shirt. Earnest stepped to the side, looking towards the door window.
"Ah, it looks like it ran out there." Silas pointed towards the window to the outside, feeling the note slip down his sleeve and out of view.
Grabbing his chest, Earnest shook his head with a frown. "There is nothing more disgusting than a rat!" He sighed, catching his breath as he added, "They carry so many diseases… such evil little vermin. The palace should exterminate them." Silas saw his shoulders shaking, but all he could do was hide his smile by sipping at his soup, biting down on the carrot hunks hidden inside the tasteless broth.
After finishing his bread and soup, Silas set the plates aside and leaned back against the wall behind him, his stomach only half full. Earnest finished his examination with a careful eye, watching for the "mysterious rat" Silas had mentioned with fear in his gaze. Now that Silas was taken care of, Earnest left with some haste, leaving the heavy door of the cell to close behind him as Silas closed his eyes and waited, waiting for the opportunity to read the letter.
The knights outside of the door would glance over their shoulders every so often, allowing Silas short windows of time to read the small letter he had been smuggled. I can only guess who this is from. Silas thought to himself, quietly rolling the paper down his sleeve until it fell into his left hand. With one more glance up, Silas unrolled the paper in his palm, laying it flat against his hand as he stared down, looking as if he were staring into his lap.
I hope you are doing well, my friend. Be strong. Your predicament won't last much longer.
Silas wanted to crumple the paper in his hand, feeling his fury grow at the thought of being used by such a power-hungry scoundrel.
If Clarence isn't careful, it's only a matter of time before Malcolm takes the throne. Silas's head was throbbing, full of worry. If that happens, they won't bother keeping me alive any longer. Malcolm needed me before, but no longer. The duke was cutting off the loose ends, securing his power, much like the past Yursinean king had done while using the elves as a scapegoat.
It couldn't be. Silas's eyes widened as he thought to himself.
There was a very short time until the wedding between Clarence and Charlotte. If something were to happen at the wedding, the peaceful change of power would be thrown aside, changing the hands of power with little effort.
He knows something, something that would make him able to take the throne. Silas closed his eyes as he leaned back, finding it hard to fight his pounding headache. I can only wonder what would happen at this point. Unless help were to come soon, he would die along with those under Malcolm.
Staring at the bars on the small window, Silas felt hopeless, waiting for slaughter.
The cold wind howled outside, signaling signs of change.
…
Kivah trepidatiously lifted his hand, letting the knuckles of his fist fall on the door.
Once, twice.
Like always, there was no answer.
Kivah ran a hand through his hair, unsure and frustrated.
"Victoria, please open the door!" Kivah called out to the closed door. Only silence responded to him, "Gah!" Kivah called out in frustration.
"She still won't come out?" Kivah turned towards the voice behind him and bowed deeply as tall Countess Zavior approached the befuddled young man, "It's been a month already. She can't keep up like this." The countess grasped the doorknob, her face darkening with annoyance when she realized it was locked. Slowly, the countess let go of the door knob, lifting her hand to softly tap on the door, "Young girl, you need to open this door. You can't stay in there forever." Camille gestured towards Kivah, who nodded, listening closely.
"Go call the innkeeper. We'll have to break down the door." Camille said, raising her voice as she kept her eyes on the door. The sound of footsteps from the other side of the door caused Camille to smile, taking a step back. The sound of the door unlocking rang through the long hallway, dampening the silence, before the door cracked open and the ragged face of Cordelia peeked out from the safety of the door.
"Please don't do that. I'm fine." Cordelia weakly mumbled, attempting to shut the door again.
"Oh, no you don't!" Camille said, placing a firm hand on the door before it closed, "Young girl, I am currently paying for this room, so if I want to enter it, I will. Now open this door, you're making Kivah worried sick about you."
Cordelia's bloodshot eyes shot over to Kivah, who shrunk at the sudden summoning.
"Uh, Ah, well-" Kivah stammered, suddenly embarrassed, "It's just that- You know, it's been a month, and- Well-"
Cordelia could not bring herself to smile, so she turned her eyes back to Camille, whose hand was still firmly pressed against the door, "I promise I will pay you back for the room, so please leave me alone." Cordelia pushed against the door, and, to Kivah's surprise, Camille conceded, letting the door shut with her hand pressed against it.
Camille's hand slid down the door before joining her other arm to cross her chest, "This is concerning. Please tell me our other guest is doing better?"
Kivah grimaced, unsure of how to answer, "I'm sorry, ma'am. He's still unconscious, and only regains consciousness for a few seconds at a time."
"Has he said anything while he was conscious?" Camille asked, stepping away from Cordelia's room as she began walking down the hallway. Kivah was quick to follow her,
"He just keeps repeating the word, 'Alywin.' I can only assume it's someone he knows. Maybe a close friend or loved one?"
"This is truly an odd situation." Camille thought aloud, "It was clear by that girl's reaction that the unconscious man was not the friend she was looking for, but I can't help but feel the two are connected somehow. She never said anything about him after she went into the room?"
Kivah shook his head, "After she stopped screaming, she refused to talk about it."
Camille forced a tired, sarcastic smile to her face, "Any luck with finding her family or friends?"
Kivah shook his head again, this time scrunching his face in embarrassment, "No. She completely stopped looking for them after she learned her friend was not here. I don't want to assume anything, but in the condition I found her, I can only assume her friend is long dead. I think she has finally realized it too." Kivah frowned deeply. Camille noticed this and sighed, placing a hand on Kivah's shoulder.
"Good work as usual, Kivah. Why don't you take a day or two off? You could always go see your family."
"Really?" Kivah's face brightened, the dark atmosphere in the room lifting, "Thank you."
"Just make sure to change your clothes, Kivah." Camille said, nodding her head as she gave him a knowing look.
Kivah glanced down at his clothes, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, "I will. Thank you again."
Camille swished her hand in the air, waving goodbye to Kivah as she continued her trek down the hall. Kivah glanced once more back to Cordelia's room, the silent door hardly visible from where he was standing. Kivah shook his head, then hurried off to his room.
He had been gone for weeks, and he was too busy to write to his family. The thought of seeing his siblings again after so long filled him with excitement.
Should I buy them something before I head home? Kivah wondered to himself as he opened the door to his room, locking the door behind him, They love sweet bread. I'll go grab some before I head home.
Kivah pulled his shirt over his head, letting it drop beside him as he unwound the binding around his chest. Kivah glanced over to his left, reaching for his bag.and, with a deep frown, pulled out a long dress.
"Let's get this over with." Kivah said aloud to no one in particular as he threw the dress over his head, popping his head out the top with a tug. He quickly adjusted the rope belt, tightening it only enough to tie the rope in a knot. He then pulled his short hair into a low bun, tying it in place with a ribbon.
Kivah immediately felt uncomfortable in the dress, hating the familiar sensation of trying to move in the restricting fabric. Still, he made his way over to the mirror, glancing only long enough to ensure his outfit was passable.
Staring at the dull mirror, Kivah frowned deeper as he looked at his reflection. It was one he had seen numerous times, year after year, but it still seemed just as unfamiliar as when he first looked at it.
The person in the mirror was a woman, wearing a dress, a ribbon in their short, tied back hair. They stared in the mirror, their face blank, as if staring at people passing by on the roadside. There was nothing familiar about this woman, but this woman always managed to bring a sense of disgust with her every appearance, making Kivah feel as if he were wearing the wrong skin, masking what he had been born as in a weak, misguided attempt to become himself. He knew he was not a woman, but everytime he stared at the two lumps on his chest, or between his legs, contempt filled his breast, tears filling his eyes with disgust.
He was unfamiliar with this woman, but he hated her, hated what she made him, hated how she made him face the world, face his family. She stared back at him all of his childhood, and he wanted to leave her foreign form behind. Yet, his family did not know of his real identity, and he had no plans to tell them.
He was terrified of how they'd react.
Would they scream at him? Would they disown him? Would they find him disgusting for being his true self around those closest to him?
The very thought sent him into a panic.
What if he was never allowed to see his siblings again? It would destroy him. Once he told them, he knew it would be over. At that point, what else would he have to live for?
So, for as long as he needed, he would put on a mask. He would tie it tightly around his head and seal it to his face for as long as he needed to. This was the path he had chosen. To be able to be with his family.
Kivah adjusted the dress around his waist one more time, refusing to look into the mirror any longer as he turned his head away, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. Taking a step forward, he wiped the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand and walked towards the door to his room, grabbing the doorknob with a tight grip.
He opened the door, quietly closing it behind him as he stepped forward, preparing himself to meet with his family as a stranger once again.
…
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Hi all! We're a little late... sorry! We're still at con and having a blast, so we didn't have time to post on Friday, but we have a little time now so I'm getting it out! Hunny is dressed as 2B, me as Lady Dimitrescu. We've been stopped for so many photos. It's insane, but so, so fun! I'm only standing at about 6 feet tall in my platformers, but I feel gigantic!
Note on Kivah. Kivah is a trans man, and he identifies as a man (uses he/him pronouns). I really love his story, but god it hits me every time ;A; I hope the pronoun usage is clear, but please let me know if you're confused about anything :D Y'all read BL, so you're all used to he, him, etc. to refer to the ML/MC in the same sentence anyway, so it should be good I think >u<
We hope you enjoy this chapter, and we'll see you all next week! ♥ This castle bit will be ending very soon, and then we'll continue forward with the spicier side of this arc.... >y>
Edit: Chapter title refers to how Clare thinks Silas smells. We'll refer into it next chapter....