Winter
Nine years went by slowly but Winter enjoyed many of the moments she spent with Aunt Carol and other children in the rebel group--the white talon.
A few weeks after she turned seventeen, her mother visited the small fishing town to collect her. Winter had been sparring with Marissa, one of the greatest friends she had made in the town when Aunt Carol and her mother came by. Despite her protests, Aunt Carol made her pack her belongings and return to Dwinsdale in Aralor City with her mother.
Winter could still remember the trip back to her old home, how her mother had chattered happily only to stop when she realised that Winter was not paying her any mind.
Over the five years that Winter returned home to the manor she had once lived in with her Pa and Ava, her mother never left her side for too long. She bored her with endless conversations and gossip Winter did not care for. She took her out to the lake but Winter refused to swim. The only days Winter enjoyed were the once where Aunt Carol would visit the manor.
They would speak for hours. Sometimes, they would go horseback riding, mud fighting in one of the alleys in the market square, they would sword fight too. Winter enjoyed every last minute of it and some-days, she would wish Aunt Carol was her mother because Aunt Carol had never looked at Winter like she was a monster or a stain.
She looked at Winter like she was power.
Winter plopped back in the chair, wishing Aunt Carol would waltz in and interrupt the awful singing of her mother and her mother's maids. It was her twenty-second birthday and her mother had made a fuss about it. She had bought a cake that was too big, too much meat and certainly too much wine.
Winter did not drink.
If she wanted to stay fit and aid the cause of the white talon, she would have to avoid alcohol like all the other members did. She had never tasted wine before and she did not plan to. Winter rolled her eyes as her mother cut the cake and served her a huge slice. She was not interested in the cake or her birthday.
She wanted Aunt Carol.
She was the only thing Winter was interested in.
"My love is twenty-two," her mother cooed teary eyed, running a hand through Winter's silver locks.
Winter flinched back from her. She did not like it. She did not like her mother's kind eyes, her touch, her voice. She did not like any of it.
"I will be in my room," she announced, jumping to her feet. She ignored the look of hurt on her mother's face as she made her way to the kitchen first for food. Preferably a fruit. As long as it was not meat or wine, Winter was happy to eat it.
Winter paused as she noticed the envelope on the kitchen table. It had already been torn open but a letter was still in it. She pulled out the letter, reading its contents quickly. The more she read, the more horrified she became, the more furious her heart beat.
"Win__" her mother paused at the doorway, her eyes grew wide as she stared at Winter and the letter in her hand.
"What is this?" Winter questioned, holding up the letter as she glared at her mother.
"It is not what you are thinking. I can assure you," her mother shook her head, tears filling her eyes.
"You're fucking the king and it is not what I think?!" she snapped, crumpling the letter in her hand and tossing it aside.
"Winter!" her mother scolded. "I am still your mother. Watch your language,"
"My language?" Winter scoffed, squeezing her eyes shut as she shook her head.
Ava's eyes, her Pa's smile, they invaded her mind. Reminding her of what she had lost to King Roderick.
"Was this what you were doing?" she whispered, biting her lip as she schooled her expression just like Aunt Carol had taught her.
Emotions were like blood in a sea of sharks.
"When you left me with Carol. Was this what you were doing? Warming the king's bed, disrespecting your husband's grave, spitting in all our faces as you shacked up with the man who murdered your family!" she screamed, spit flew out of her mouth.
"Enough Winter! Enough!" her mother cried, doubling over as if she was in pain. She placed her hand against her stomach as she straightened up. The maids gathered behind her mother who stormed nto the kitchen and slammed the door shut behind her. "He is not the man you think he is. He is not the man that people say he is," she said slowly as if she was speaking to a child. As if she herself did not know the truth.
"Oh, I see," Winter drawled, allowing her fangs to sprout. She smiled but there was nothing friendly or remotely polite about it. "He's the misunderstood hero, right? He did not kill your eldest daughter, he did not murder my father who came to our defence. No. See that was only the third watch. Roderick is not in charge of the third watch. He did not continue their legacy instead of letting it die out,"
"That is not what I am saying," her mother sobbed louder, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It is not,"
"So what are you saying?"
"Love is forgiveness. It is infinite," she replied, wiping her face with the back of her hands as she stared at Winter.
"Fuck you and fuck love. You were never even going to tell me. He's proposing now. He wants to make you his queen. What is your reply going to be?"
"Winter," her mother begged, sobbing all over again.
"What. Is your answer going to be?" Winter gritted, staring her mother down.
"I love him," she replied. "I love him,"
Winter nodded, fighting against the blinding pain building up in her chest. Her mother was in love with the murderer of her Pa and Ava.
"Best of luck at your wedding, Rebecca," she hissed, bumping shoulders with her mother as she walked out and slammed the door behind her. She needed to breathe.
←→
She pulled the hood of her blue cloak over head as she made it into the market square, joining the crowd of women travelling down the market to the chariot keeper. One by one, the women went their separate ways until Winter was the last one remaining. She took a sharp left, turning down a dark alley filled with rats and addicts. The pungent smell of sex and wine wafted into her nose and she winced.
Winter came to a stop in front of the only wooden door in the dark alley and knocked. A buff man built like a forte opened the door and let her in.
"What do you want?" he asked, fingering a piece of meat stuck between his teeth.
Winter looked around the sex bar her mother's maid had told her about before. Apparently, it could take all your worries away. It could make you forget. Men laughed, grabbing onto the asses of barmaids carrying trays of wine and beer.
"Sex," she shrugged. "It's my birthday," she added, pushing her hood back to reveal her waist-length white hair.
"Do you have a partner?" the man asked. His voice was groggy like he had smoked a few too many pipes.
Winter shook her head.
The man hummed, lifting his hand up and beckoning to a short woman with beads braided into her hair. "Lemy," he hollered.
Lemy sighed, spitting a stick out of her mouth as she approached. Her skin was red and looked sore. Perhaps, she had spent too much time in the sun.
"She's new. Take care of her. Also, it's her birthday," the man laughed, walking away.
Winter held back a grimace as Lemy led her up a flight of rickety wooden stairs. This was the place Soraya had claimed helped her forget who she was. Soraya had been like Winter, a hybrid who escaped the third watch several times. She had left town a few weeks ago. Family issues.
The woman paused in front of a small room that had many floor length strings of beads as a door or partition.
"You pay to me once you're done else you won't be allowed to leave," Lemy cautioned, furrowing her brows at Winter.
Money was not a problem at all.
"The man you're pairing me with, is he a worker?" she asked, eyeing the figure on the bed who was sat with his arms against his knees, staring into space.
"Goddess. No. Our workers are given to clients. Not newcomers and children." she huffed as if Winter had insulted her. "Besides, they are all booked and engaged at the moment,". Lemy handed her a mask to put on. It was black leather that covered the upper portion of Winter's face, leaving her lips and cheeks exposed.
" The masks are for anonymity. Take it off at your own discretion,"
Winter nodded, tying it around her head as she entered the room.
Her breath caught in her throat as she took in her partner. He was at least a foot taller than her. His golden hair was messy. He had a chiseled jaw and emerald green eyes that took her breath away as he stared at her.
Like her, he wore a black leather mask.
He stood to his feet, walking up to her and pulling her flush against him.
He drew a line up her arm with his fingers, sending a shiver up her spine and then, his mouth was on hers. Winter moaned, allowing him to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging at his blonde hair.
She bit his lip, drawing blood but he groaned, pressing himself harder against her and kissing her harder.
Winter breathed him in.
He smelt familiar, he felt familiar. Her hands travelled down to his white shirt and she tugged at it but he shook his head.
"I never take off my clothes," he whispered against her lips and then his mouth was back on hers. He walked her backwards, pinning her against a wall. She felt it right then as he hiked up her leg, hooking it around his hip. She was going to loose the little control she had on her siren call.
Her hands roamed his neck, brushing over small dotted bumps. They were scars.
Winter wondered what could have caused them.
Needles.
She growled, pushing herself into him as he pushed back, slamming her hips against the wall with a growl of his own.
Winter chuckled. He was giving her just as much as she wanted. As much as she needed. Winter opened her mouth, allowing is tongue to find hers.
Until it happened.
She could feel her claws fighting to come out along with a new tingling heat in her stomach. She was going out of control. She needed to end it.
Winter pushed him back, rushing out of the room. She caught a glimpse of herself in the broken sitting in the corridor as she fled. Her eyes were glowing a bright blue colour just like it did whenever she used her powers.
She dumped a heavy pouch of golden coins into Lemy's waiting hand as she rushed out of the bar, cursing herself.
Stupid . Stupid. Stupid.
What she did had been stupid, thoughtless and impulsive. Carol would be disappointed.
As Winter mixed with the market crowd, she ripped her mask off, pulling her hood over head. When she glanced back, she saw him.
The masked man stood still as the crowd pushed past him, his green eyes searching for her. Winter fixed her gaze forward, hurrying back to the manor.
The man reminded her of someone. Someone who had gotten her into trouble with Carol years ago.
A boy with green eyes and long jagged bleeding marks down his back from being whipped too many times.
Winter smiled. Sometimes, she missed him. Sometimes, she wondered if he was still alive and if he was living an ordinary life. She pulled her hood closer to her face as she hummed the tune to the song she had composed for him out of spite and envy of his trusting soul.
Devil boy.