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angelicminds · 4 months

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Warden of the Damned (ch.1)

The first time Princess Elida hears the tantalizing whisper of Greed, she’s six years old. Her whole life, her every need is taken care of before she even knows she has a need. Out in the sunshine, playing with her fabric dolls, she truly wants for nothing. For the first time, her nursemaid, Amah, brings six-year-old Elida along on a picnic with her husband, daughter, and son. Dried fruits, olives, and cheeses lay out on a platter before Elida. On the blanket sit cups of watered down wine for the two adults and juice for the three children.

Elida leans against her nursemaid, comforting herself with the woman’s presence. She’s on the precipice of falling into a light doze and would have slipped under if the eldest daughter hadn’t called for her mother's attention. When Amah untangles Elida’s limbs from her own, Elida makes a soft noise of protest, expecting that to be that, and for Amah to sit back down. To cuddle her and apologize for moving. Except Amah doesn’t sit back down. She makes a gentle shushing noise as she disengages and walks away. “I’ll be but one moment, Princess.” She says, even toned, as if that’s an acceptable compromise.

Elida’s temper flares, hot in her chest, but she bears it silently, confused by the intense emotion. She has no name for it. No understanding of it, but it simmers in her guts, stewing. She chews on a piece of bread, watching as Amah smiles down at her child, and tucks a lock of hair behind her daughter's ear. Jealousy licks at her heart. Want burns in her veins. The injustice of not having a mother makes her suddenly nauseous. The world tilts, and Elida has to squeeze her eyes shut to prevent her lunch from coming up.

“Come back.” She wants to say to Amah. To order the woman back to her side like her father orders his soldiers. “Come back and be my mother. Deny those children. Love only me.”

Give me a mother, her voice says, only she didn’t speak. Behind her, comes her voice again. She’s mine. Mine. Mine. Despite straining with all her might, Elida can’t move. Can’t turn around to face the monster with her voice. She trembles in her place on the grass, the fabric doll falling from her limp grip. I want her, the voice says, but it was an accusation directed at Elida. Frozen in place, heart pounding in her chest, she doesn’t have to admit that, yes; she wants Amah to herself. The voice behind her already knows. She can feel it settling between her shoulder blades, sinking through her skin to make itself at home in her heart, in her very soul.

Feed it and you shall receive the voice that was hers-but-not whispers, the words caressing the outer shell of her ear, sending an unpleasant shiver through her little body. Elida doesn’t have to ask what the voice means by ‘feed’. It supplies images of flowing blood that spills from open wounds and pools on the grass beneath cooling bodies. Why should they get a mother if she didn’t? She thinks to herself, or she thinks she thought it. It’s hard to tell who’s speaking, when their voices are one and the same, but the words sound right, and they spark that powerful feeling in her guts again, so she grabs onto it with both hands.

Why indeed? What gives them the right to have a mother when she, the Princess of the realm, doesn’t? Selfish little brats, she sneers in her head, repeating what her father often says about peasant children, and watching Amah show her youngest son how to pick berries off the vine without being pricked by the protective thorns. They ought to drown, she thinks, and it startles her to think it.

She drags in a ragged gasp of air, blinking wildly to dispel the unpleasant thoughts. “Princess, are you alright?” Amah asks, hearing the distressed hitch in the Princess’ breath even across the field as she is.

“I’m fine.” Elida hears herself say, lying through her teeth. “I want to look at the river.” She announces suddenly, standing and walking away without waiting for Amah to catch up.

“I’ll go with her, mummy.” The youngest child chirps up.

“Thank you, Thorfinn.” Amah praises, sending bolts of noxious jealousy through Elida’s guts. “Stay at the top!” She calls, worry lacing her tone, but she doesn’t join the children. Perhaps, if she did, that would have prevented the tragedy to come. But neither she, nor her husband, chooses to supervise the children, and so she will suffer the consequences.

At the crest of the small hill stands a chain of trees, each wider and taller than the biggest warrior. Too afraid to climb them without Amah there to help her, she hides around the trunk of the first tree she reaches. Thorfinn, a plump little boy two years her junior, races after her, giggling like mad, in the way only a carefree child can laugh. She grits her teeth. The noise of the boy sets her nerves on edge. Honestly, Amah will thank when she finishes here. No one deserves to have to listen to his shrill shrieks, not even stupid mothers who are given chance after chance to make the right choice.

“Hullo, Princess!” Thorfinn rounds the trunk with a smile so wide it seems to go all the way around to the back of his head.

“Greetings, Thorfinn.” Elida says, matching her father's disinterested tone, the one he uses when dealing with beggars. She keeps her gaze on the water, while Thorfinn keeps his gaze on her. He bounces at her heel like an overly eager puppy, nearly tripping her twice when he stepped on the hem of her dress. She’d once seen the Royal Houndsman discipline his pack, but she didn’t think it would apply here, no matter how much her palms itched to slap him across his face, to feel his fat nose break beneath her tiny hand. Mine, mine, mine, her voice chants, this time coming from inside her head.

“Let’s go look! We might even see some fishes!” Thorfinn cheers, waving his pudgy fists in excitement. She gestures for him to lead the way, and when he turns his back, she reaches out with both hands and pushes as hard as she can. Rain from the previous night made the sloped hill dangerously slick. Even an adult would step extra cautiously on this terrain. Who could expect a four-year-old to be sure-footed? An accident was bound to happen.

Thorfinn cries out in alarm as careens forward, arms pinwheeling comically. He slams face first into the mud and slides several feet before slamming into a large rock. His face crunches sickeningly against the stone, and his scream comes out muffled under the thick river mud. His momentum sends him rolling over the rock, his neck twisting at an unnatural angle, but not broken yet. On the upturn, Elida sees Thorfinn’s eyes bulging wide in terror and pain. She drinks the sight down greedily. The thing that had her voice purrs, not yet satisfied but no longer voracious.

He crashes onto his side, arm bent underneath him, and slides the last remaining feet into the river. Instead of a great raucous splash as she expects, Thorfinn’s body makes a ‘plunk’ noise as he sinks into the water. Just like that, the spell breaks, and horror takes Elida by her throat. “Thorfinn!” She screeches, scrambling down the slick hill on her hands and knees, uncaring of the filth staining her dress. “Help! Amah! Help me!” She can only hope her voice will carry back to the field where the others sit, enjoying the sunshine and each other's company. She isn’t stopping to check.

She chases after Thorfinn as the current drags him downriver, her bare feet squelching in the mud. Her lungs burn as she runs, but she does her best to ignore it. She can’t lose sight of Thorfinn. This is her fault. She pushed him. If she doesn’t save him, she’ll be a murderer. Elida can’t wrap her mind around the idea, despite it staring her in the face. How can she be a murderer? She’s a Princess. Princesses don’t kill people. They wear pretty dresses and give flowers to peasant children while they parade by.

Except, even as she runs, she can feel Thorfinn dying. Drowning. The thing with her voice keeps her appraised as Thorfinn’s life leaks out of him. Almost done, it boasts, swelling in her mind until her skull feels ready to burst. She wails against the pain, against the injustice, but her display does nothing to sway the monster inside her. It feeds on Thorfinn’s dying soul, until a cracking noise explodes through her mind, and Thorfinn goes dreadfully limp.

Before, the current threw him around, as if trying to buck off a living thing from its back, but now that the monster has consumed his soul, his body drifts atop the water, riding the waves with ease. The river seems to display Thorfinn’s body as a prize. Look what we caught, it seems to say. Or maybe that’s the monster in her mind saying those things, because she feels a bubbling warmth spread through her. It feels like triumph. Like a job well done. Even though Elida has no frame of reference for these things, she just knows that’s what they were. The current sweeps Thorfinn’s body along the shore, and his legs tangle in a half-built beaver dam, anchoring him. Elida sobs in relief as she catches up, barely breathing through her wheezing lungs. Dizzy, black spots dance in the corners of her vision.

Despite knowing Thorfinn is already dead, she rushes to his prone form and doesn't wait to catch her breath before she wades into the water to drag him out. The second her fingers grip his tunic, she flips him over so he’s no longer face down in the river. Upon seeing his face, she wretches, heaving her lunch up in painful chunks. She has no time to aim, and regretfully spills her stomach contents onto Thorfinn’s neck and chest. Elida sobs as she washes her vomit off of him, muttering apologies as she does. Then she gets to work hauling him out of the river.

Six year olds, as a rule, are not known for their physical prowess, and Elida is no exception. Her tears mix with the green river water, stinging her eyes, as she yanks with all her might. Afraid the current will steal him away again, she climbs on the dam and tries to push Thorfinn to shore, digging her bare feet into the pile of sticks and crying out when a sharp tip stabs into the sole of her right foot. The pain makes her stumble, and she loses her grip on Thorfinn’s body. She cries out in pain and frustration, on the verge of a meltdown. “Someone help me!” She sobs, straining to reach Thorfinn’s body for another attempt. “Endless please! Someone help me.” Her voice cracks, exhausted from overuse.

As if in answer to her prayers, a pair of men come crashing through the bushes. “Oh, Endless.” The short blond breathes in horror at the sight before them. The tall black-haired man simply grimaces and steps into the river to retrieve the two children. Elida climbs onto the black-haired man’s back when presented with it, grateful to no longer be responsible for the corpse.

Once on the shore, Elida lets go of the man’s back, and falls to the solid earth. She savors the steady ground. Her head spins, trying to lift her away from the safety of flat dirt, so she digs her fingers into the soil, anchoring herself by force. Her skin feels too tight and too loose at the same time. She feels like she’s going to explode. Wild animals groan and snarl and with a start she realizes it isn’t some animal, it’s her. The noises come from her throat, and she can’t stop them. “Mel.” She hears one of the men say, but for the life of her, she can't turn her head to see who spoke.

On her knees, fingers buried in the cool dirt, she makes more feral noises as something moves beneath her flesh. “I’ve got the boy, take care of the Princess.”

Bright white spots explode in her eyes, and thin tentacles crawl up her throat, stabbing into her tongue, flooding the muscle with its will. “He’s dead.” Elida spits, eyes bulging, face almost purple from exertion. Her jowls tremble as she speaks, her jaw jerks and clicks, the words wrenched from her throat. “I killed him.” She howls with laughter, her face split into an obscene smile.

A sad faced blond man squats before her, staring her directly in her eyes. He reaches forward, not minding her snapping teeth in the least, and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. Except his hand comes away red. “Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry this happened.” He shakes his head morosely, and waves his blood-smeared hand over her face. The pain recedes just enough to allow her to breathe, and that first lungful of air tastes sweeter than strawberries.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” She weeps, confused, and tired, and so, so afraid.

The man petted her hair soothingly, nodding. “I know you didn’t, Princess. All will be well, just focus on your breathing.” Carefully, he lays his palm over her forehead. At the moment of contact, a hundred contrasting expressions cross his face before he schools his features into a smooth, unreadable plateau. “All will be well.” He says again, but this time, his voice shakes with uncertainty. He clears his throat, and calls to his counterpart, “The boy is gone, Gervace. Nothing we can do. He’s with the Endless now.”

Even though she felt the moment he died, hearing confirmation from someone else sends her over the edge. “I’m sorry!” She wails, devastated, pulling her filthy fingers from the earth and tearing at her face and neck with her nails. “I’m sorry!” The black haired man, the one the blond called ‘Gervace’, who she now realizes is the Captain of the Kingsguard, grabs her wrists and holds her in place, preventing her from damaging herself any further. “I’m so sorry.” She whispers, exhausted. Guilt and disgust churn in her gut, but the monster inside her throws her head back and laughs.

With pursed lips, the blond waves a hand at the river, and long tendrils of crystal clear water heed his summons. The water grabs her and hauls her several feet into the air, dangling her above the river. She kicks and screams, full of fury and fire, but she’s only six years old, and she stands no chance against a God. Within the riverbed, Elida sees a form shimmer into existence. It swims up, out of the water, and wraps around the blond man, a shadowy figure pumping divine power into him. Before her eyes, she watches an Avatar wield the Endless at the will of their God.

The water swirls around her body, creating a liquid sphere that covers her from head to toe. The pressure keeps her body locked in place. She can’t even thrash or scream. The only reason she can breathe is the long tube of air that connects to her mouth. Were she older and had some experience of self-soothing, perhaps she could have calmed herself and been able to appreciate the Avatar’s control. How he lets her breathe despite being completely submerged. The effortless way he pushes and pulls the water. The confidence that each gesture is an expression of his God. He dances a series of complicated steps, and the water sways with him, mirroring the Avatar.

She doesn’t notice these things. Instead, she panics like a rat in a trap. Her child brain, overwhelmed, exhausted, and afraid for her life, can’t comprehend what happened. She thought these men would help her. That they would keep her safe. Instead, they terrorize her. “Stop it!” She screams, reaching out blindly for that power that, until these men, was the scariest thing she’d ever encountered. Now, it seems like a white-winged eudaemon, halo and all, sent to rescue her.

As she welcomes the deep purple poison into her veins, a bright blue light seeps into the water, spreading like a drop of dye. It blinds her. She squeezes her eyes shut, but even through her eyelids she sees it moving. It swims behind her and pools on her back, between her shoulder blades, where the first power entered her. At first, the heat soothes her aching muscles, but it quickly turns burning hot. So hot her skin sizzles and bubbles around it. What will you give me? The monster asks, tendrils of power licking at her from the inside.

Every muscle in her body spasms, one after the other, in a series of agonizing jerks. Again, her eyes bulge and her face turns an ugly, mottled purple color. The blue dives into her, spiking through her like a javelin, knocking the breath from her lungs. “Anything.” She wheezes, growing weaker and weaker by the second. The blue light seems to suck the poison from her, leaving her vulnerable to whatever punishments await her.

Bitter laughter spills from her lips, echoing strangely in the water. The monster pries her eyes open, forces her to watch as the Avatar pours his awful, stinging power into her until she feels ready to burst. Her skin feels bloated, like it’s ready to explode off of her skeleton at any second. Her teeth ache in their sockets. Elida swears she’ll die before the Avatar finishes his torture. How could anyone survive pressure like this?

But then two things happen at once. The purple monster shrinks and the water drops away from her. She doesn’t realize she fell until she lands on the riverside with a crash. The Avatar rushes her, and Elida winces away, scraping her skin raw on the rocky shore as she tries to drag herself to safety. Wherever that was. The monster, now tucked inside her rib cage, urges her to run, and then keep running.

The Avatar and Captain Gervace approach Elida like a wounded animal, and they’re right to. She would have bolted if she could have. Gervace holds his hands up in a surrender gesture, making soothing noises, while the Avatar pulls a necklace from the riverbed. Elida tries to stand, tries to flee, but her legs give out, tipping her forward. Too exhausted to even raise her arms to protect her face, rocks tear at her skin, smash her nose, rip the skin of her eyebrow. Just like Thorfinn, Elida thinks to herself and smiles. Good. That’s fair. Her lips part to show scarlet stained teeth, and a gush of blood spills out, drooling down her chin.

Gervace kneels to hold her still. His olive skin shines with sweat, and the scars on his face, three jagged scars that span the top left of his head to the bottom right of his jaw, became channels for his sweat to travel, like their own rivers. His eyes, one green and one brown, brim with tears as he grips his massive hands around her upper arms. “Do it, Mel.” He grunts, blinking fast, as if that would stop his tears from falling.

The Avatar, ‘Mel’, nods grimly, and reaches out to drop the necklace around Elida’s neck. “There you go, Princess.” He says, offering her a trembling smile. “As I told you, all will be well.” She tries to speak, but no words come out, instead more blood speckles the corners of her mouth. Not even a squeak passes her lips. The Avatar sprinkles cool water on her face to wash the blood away, and the sudden lack of danger makes her go slack like a puppet with its strings cut. Her vision goes black, and she drifts into blissful oblivion.

#this is so cool #friends writing

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