A/N: Okay, so, I posted the next chapter rather quickly only because the past two chapters are the only ones I decided to keep from my original first draft. I personally thought I started this off pretty strong but slowly deflated as the chapters go on. That being said, this and the one before it are my only personally edited chapters that will be posted. Anything else will probably be rewritten and personally edited chapters which means it'll take me quite a while to post.
So, tell me what you think! I may be changing up the first chapter as well thanks to some very very helpful advice I recieved. You've all been a great help!
Chapter 2: The Boy with the Blue Eyes
Three weeks. Three weeks is all it took for me to become so completely attuned to the place in which I resided. Three weeks to become so easily adapted to the simplistic ways of living. The long walks completely alone and undisturbed. The days where you could sit outside on the back porch and hear the birds chirping rather than the harsh sounds of cars skidding and sirens blaring.
Three weeks and I loved this place so dearly.
Late September it was now and cooler than most. I couldn't really remember a time when the weather had changed this drastically though residing in Canada always lead to such strange and often confusing weather patterns. Nonetheless, I wore my cardigan with relish, the hems in my pants already falling apart as to let the grey material slip under the rubber of my black school shoes.
I remember the day when everything changed so perfectly. Burned into my mind as if physically scorched there. How could I have known the change in me that would occur afterwards? There was no way to explain unfortunately and it was easier not to try.
Dad had smiled at me that morning. An odd gesture as father wasn't the type for such silly, trivial little things. When he left, he kissed my forehead and told me to be safe. That the world was a big place and that I should be willing to jump and to risk everything I had for what’s right. I never really knew what provoked him to say this. Maybe he was triggered subconsciously by the thought that he would never see me again? A premonition? I couldn't really say. It was the last time I ever laid eyes on that man.
One thing you might want to know about father is that he wasn't biological, as mother wasn’t either. I hadn’t known much about my real parents for such things never really mattered much to me. Father and mother never hid such things from me for it wasn't really anything to be ashamed of. I loved them as if they were biological for no biological parent could ever raise me the way they did.
Though they split when I was still young, I knew them dearly and closely. It was never a problem that I did not have a parent in my life and with growing technology, it was so easy to keep in touch with either of them wherever I was.
But that’s unimportant now. Back to the tale at hand.
After father had left, I felt that odd sensation of foreboding within me. The same feeling I got if I stared at the Corkscrew Willow in the backyard for far too long. It was the feeling that sprang with acceptance, I suppose. A feeling that I tried deeply to disguise.
Either way, Warren picked me up that morning in his little blue Hyundai. A silly vehicle but great on gas and quicker than need be. Mornings were always much better when he picked me up, coffee already sitting in the cup holder. Large double-double, just the way I liked it. How wonderful it was to have someone know you so well.
"Good morning, Athira," he chimed, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting against the e-brake. He wore a grey binky that day. A coarse little hat that he very much adored, and although I never would have admitted it, I loved it as well.
He pointed at the cup holder as I got in, making clear that that was, in fact, for me.
"Good morning to you too," I sighed, buckling my seatbelt as I went. I could feel a yawn forming at my lips but ignored it sullenly. "Thanks for the coffee."
"I had an odd feeling you might need one today," he said, a chuckle spilling from his lips once more.
Something wasn't right about this chuckle though, as if the laughter in which he displayed was easily a fake. A facade in which he placed before him to block out his own worries. It made my stomach churn to think he was so ill at ease. And that horrible foreboding. God, I couldn't escape it.
"It's the same type of day as any other," I murmured, resting my chin against the palm of my hand.
"Are you complaining that I got you a coffee?" he scoffed. "Last time I'm ever nice."
"Trust me, I'm not complaining," I said, smirking as well as I lifted the coffee to my lips. How hot and creamy it tasted against my tongue. Such a thing was always so perfect. So well needed.
The ride furthered without much chatter. He still seemed oddly worried as if easing into the norm of life was not allowed today. His back was stiff, fingers crunched against the wheel and the tension in that little cab could have been cut with a knife as the old saying goes.
His unease was making me sick and the coffee did very little to help.
The day furthered in this manner, though it wasn't only Warren. It was everyone. My teachers told me goodbye specifically and patted me on the shoulder as if sending me off to college. The people whom I wouldn't necessarily call friends though often enough spent a great deal of time around also seemed affected. They rarely talked, though when they did it was something strange coming from their mouths. Poetic, almost.
"You're overthinking things," Warren said on the ride home as I explained my worries. Though his stiffness had yet to go away, he listened as contently as always with the same precarious understanding. "Maybe people are just picking up on your mood and are accommodating to it the only way they can."
"If they were accommodating me in anyway, I would prefer it to be normal," I huffed, nose scrunched. "No need to act all fussy around me. It’s annoying."
"People care about you, Ath," he said, smile forming across his cheeks. His jawline was always so flawless when he smirked as if the creator himself had a joyous occasion when manipulating the sculpture for that skull. When afterlife pulls me from this earth - and if there really is a creator to be quite frank - I would have to thank him for such a lovely sight. "You really shouldn't think so low of everything."
"Like I said, Warren, I'm not complaining." I could feel my frustration growing. Such a horrible temper, some would say. I could sadly concur to such accusations. "I'm just confused. Something seems off."
"Nothing is off," he shrugged.
We pulled into the driveway with a thump. Not really wishing to say anything further on the subject, I hopped out of the car without another word, shutting the door behind me quickly. Warren followed suit. A gesture I was much used to though really didn't want today.
We walked down the driveway with this same tension. A tension I had wanted to dissipate all day yet still continued to unfold. As we approached the door, he seemed more hesitant than ever.
"Athira, can we talk?" his voice was soft. A little more careful than usual.
I stared at him, brow furrowed. Whatever he was telling me now, he could have just said on the car ride home or even at school. Why he waited this long was definitely strange seeing as his character was so completely blunt. A feature I truly adored about him.
"If you want..." I said unsurely. He moved past the doorway and up onto the small, faded lilac porch, his body slumped and interestingly off-balanced. I was half surprised he hadn’t tripped over his feet. "What is it?"
"I don’t know," he shrugged, unsteady. Again, completely out of character for him. "I just think I need to say something... I guess I feel as if now might be the only time I’ll get the chance."
"I don’t understand what you're trying to get at but if it has anything to do with this ominous feeling I..."
His lips pressed against mine.
"What the hell!" I said, exasperated after pulling away quite abruptly. The red had flared almost instantly across my cheeks thanks to being so pale.
His eyes widened, then softened, mouth turned at the corners. I had insulted him.
"I'm sorry," he said, his shoulders further slumping.
I regretted instantly that I had been harsh but the action was so unprovoked. Why he had ever done it was absolutely out of sight and mind. I wanted to question him further but I could already tell that his mood had taken a turn for the worst and whatever came of this next would make him even more downcast.
And that’s when I caught sight of him.
Out of the corner of my eye or so it seemed, I caught a flare of color. A small bit but enough to confuse me into turning my sight towards whatever it was. Far off, a boy was asleep. His body was slouched against the Corkscrew Willow in the backyard, head tilted down and covered by a straw hat. I turned my full attention towards him, the confusion I held only furthering. Warren did the same though his expression was that of sourness and complete abhorrence.
"Whose he?" He asked, though I'm sure he already knew I had no clue. His face became rough and hardened. Not the usual calm and laid back sort of look he always took on.
I hopped down the steps and strode towards the tree. A stranger on my property... dad would be so angry if he saw this. Warren followed after.
"Athira, really," he muttered, easily catching up to me. "Don’t go down there."
I stopped and stared at him, frowning. He stopped as well.
"I'll be fine," I replied rather peevishly. "This guy’s probably lost. I'll just shoo him off my property, okay? No harm, no foul."
This did not seem to please him. "Why don’t I do it?"
"Because this guys on my property and I can handle myself," I replied, turning away from him once more. Frustration. I could barely handle the frustration I felt at this very moment.
As I came closer, I realized more and more that this situation was rather odd. Utterly different from the norm of things here. The boy wore dark trousers with a rather high waistline, the legs stuffed into knee high leather hunting boots. His shirt was tucked in though very lose and the color of ebony, the front tied loosely so it slouched down his left shoulder revealing a very well sculpted collarbone.
And boy was he beautiful.
I could not remember seeing such marvelous skin; such a complete perfect specimen. His complexion was russet; deep and deliciously warm. There was not a speck of hair visible against his arms or the flatness of his chest. Just warm, roan color.
It struck me hard, as I'm sure you already guessed. The type of male I would have stopped and stared. Maybe asked if I could paint as I have done more often than once. My artistry was often da Vinci-like when it came to subject matter as I loved the perfection of the human body and depicted it as something almost immaculate. When I found such a model as what I wished to paint, the chemistry was instantaneous and perfect in its own, sordid manner, whether the piece itself be any good or not.
As I came closer, he jutted up as if the mere sound of my footfalls awoke him from his slumber. His slender fingers reached up, grasping the straw hat from his arched head before tossing it. He glanced at me, head cocked to the side.
The eyes of god stared up at me.
"Well, well, well." The voice that came out of his lips was more velvety smooth than that of Warren's. Lower, yes, and hard, but beautiful in its solidity. "The elders were correct. You did find me."
I could feel my stomach drop, hands delving into my pockets as if to search for an unknown object even to myself. Warren was at my side, his hand pressed against the small of my back. A gesture that meant utter protection.
"Who are you?" Warren asked, his voice rough and blatant. Not the calm silk I was used to.
"No one in particular," he shrugged, pushing himself up in one fluid motion. He did not even glance at Warren. Merely kept his eyes planted on me, and that was the hardest part of it all.
His eyes were like crystal. So light and hard and devoid of color. The only pigment visible was that of a soft blue, so fair it almost didn’t appear to be as such. Cloudy eyes, some would say. A heavenless grey. I begged to differ. These were angel's eyes that stared at me with no self-consciousness. No fear.
"Then you wouldn't mind leaving," Warren stated, lip curled in disgust.
"Oh, but that I can’t do," he said as if such a thing were so simple. He reached his hand out in my direction.
At first, I glared at it. Having not wanted to make any contact with a stranger, I easily found such a movement disturbing but, as a few seconds passed, I realized I wanted to touch his hand, now more than ever. What did his palm feel like? As smooth and russet as the skin of his collar bone? I started to reach my own hand forward, slowly.
He closed the gap within seconds.
"Faetred," he bowed his head softly. "At your service, my liege."
I could feel the fire rushing in my cheeks at such a statement. Had it not sounded so foolish even to my own ears, I probably wouldn't have believed it. At the time, he was an unknown creature to me, as strange as the idea of where the wind came or why the sky was blue.
"Athira," I murmured, voice near inaudible. I hoped he heard it, though, for fear of being asked to repeat myself.
"That I already knew," he said. Then he turned his eyes, narrowing. "I am sorry for the confusion. Her highness and I must be going..."
He pulled me along, laughing wholeheartedly and to my great apprehensive surprise. Warren leapt after, his hand capturing my free one and his face contorted in rage. The words that fell from his lips were shocking.
"You're not taking her away," he growled. "Not yet. Not now."
"But it is time," he sighed, arm wrapping around my slumped shoulders. "I cannot oblige that wish."
I could feel the warmth of his side and as much as I tried to think 'push' I merely stood in a regretful stupor. His mere presence was utterly intoxicating.
"I-I don’t want her to leave yet..." his face fell from anger to pain. A hurt that confused and compelled me to a worry stronger than intoxication. In a desperate act, I pushed away, standing now on my own two feet. Independent.
"I don’t know what you mean by taking me away but I'm quite sure I'm not leaving," I said, voice filled with authority I wasn't so used to displaying. I then turned towards Warren, lip curled. "And I don’t need your permission to leave if I so chose."
"It’s not necessarily a choice, milady," the blue eyed boy shrugged. If you looked close enough, there was a thin scar underneath his left eye right along the jawline. So fair it was hardly there. "You are needed upon the throne. That is all."
I rolled my eyes.
"I don’t like being cruel but I'm going to have to ask you to get off my property," I sighed, turning to walk towards the house.
His hand snaked around my own, stopping me from such action and causing another red hot blush to form in my cheeks. "Milady, see reason."
Warren said nothing. His face was so distraught it upset me. It was as if he had always known this day would come though I'm sure he knew nothing of the sort. He stayed planted to the ground; a lifeless corpse.
"I see no reason," I snapped. "Just some crazed lunatic dressed like he just stepped out of Medieval Times."
He cocked his head to the side. That’s when I saw the loose braid in its entirety. A long, glossy thing that fell over his left shoulder. Such beautiful black hair I had never seen before and vivid against his bright blue eyes.
He stepped closer, intoxicating me once more with his presence. Something so wonderfully embarrassing like having your first taste of alcohol. His hand reached up, snaking underneath my hair against my neck. "In due time, you will find that reason, my princess."
Unconsciousness took me.
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