#icthya
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King Fredrick Cynedom, depicted with the things he loved; Minus the cats.
37. The Second Chance (chapter 3 - Me and Fredrick 3/5 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
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From over the windowsill, Merriam saw a young man through the fogged glass. He had eyes of jade, and strawberry waved hair. Merriam found herself unable to look away, and in fact, drawn to open the window. The fellow shrank while Merriam reached to unlatch the window. Which was fused shut. Against all logic, Merriam was compelled to greet him, and dropped her anguish for what felt like a familiar face; To the point of forgetting she knew magic. Instead of going through the walls, or stopping time, Merriam shot out the kitchen, and down to the back door. She turned the corner, and tripped over her observer. Their eyes met for a forever.
“Merry? You look like the day we met. I saw our daughter, and she was like a swan. Am I dreaming?”
“Fredrick?! You also look as young as me. Though these are the colours magic gave you, after crossing the ether with me… To think I didn’t believe our princess could do this. You died so long ago, but all evidence indicates this is real.” Merriam said, getting nearer, touching his cheek. “My words are taken.”
“So, Odette is forgiven for this foolish deed? She begged me to convince you this is an act of love. She seemed filled with guilt. Odette healed me just in time, tossed me in enchanted waters, and took me here; I’m not sure if I should applaud her.”
“Unsure?! We both lived fulfilling long lives, with Happily Ever Afters, and all the garnishes. Loved ones near, in a lap of luxury; More then many of our time could ask. I had concluded my journey with acceptance, and asked her not to heal me. She kept me in a coffin for centuries, Fredrick. She’s waving magic around without thought of consequences; She should feel bad.” Merriam rambled.
“That may be true, but I get to hug my lost daughter, and live a little longer with my wife. Should I be so angry? There is always more to live for.”
“Using too much magic at once can kill a mage! I’m worried sick!” Merriam started. She noticed Fredrick had zoned out.
“As a boy, I always thought if I wasn’t King, that I’d like to foster cats with a common lady, in the countryside.” He said vacantly. A tabby with a jeweled collar walked by. He tried to lure it. Merriam gently put his arm down.
“Dear, that’s a fencing cat; It even has cute little boots.” She sighed. Fredrick smiled, and then tried asking it nicely, since that sometimes works on fey.
Fredrick and Merriam held hands at a small desk. They were in the study center, waiting for Odysseus to gather the records. Instead, he was writing letters. Merriam had to explain that if no one believed them, they’d be without a future. Time manipulation can get hard to grasp, even among magic users. It would be difficult to live anew, without a legal identity. While Odysseus wrote, Merriam and Fredrick nudged closer and closer by the minute; Unable to resist the other’s affection. Their True Love anklets had reappeared; thus, the spell had been recast. Fredrick admired Merriam’s fairy robes. There was nothing she couldn’t pull off. He asked if she’d like him to cut her hair again. Merriam leant closer and asked for a good kiss instead. Odysseus looked up, and told them to be quieter. After rolling her eys, Merriam got up and took Fredrick around ranch; She wanted to show him how their nephew Eatheltwein retired.
“This reminds me of when we went to Eastlands of Vietica.” Fredrick said looking about in complete calmness. “Remember that old man who made jade tools? The top of the golden butte was a meditative path. I nearly died in the ether getting there, but you finally knew healing potions. After he gave us wisdom, you finally cried for all you’d lost in my arms. A nice dream together. A moment without politics.” Fredrick reminisced, falling into a rose bush. Merriam jumped over it to heal him on the other side.
“My roses! No!” A sharp voice cried. They peered over the foliage. The Gardner had long caramel hair, grass green eyes, and a slight frame spackled with freckles. Her coveralls were patched and dirty, as where her gloves and hat.
“I’m sorry. I tripped. Can I make amends?” Fredrick asked. The Gardner looked up in tears. She nodded and reached out her hand. Both Merriam and Fredrick shook it.
“I’m Icthya. I’m just really attached to the plants… Gardening reminds me of my late father, and I planted these myself. I even tend the Tree Fey.” Icthya sniffed. Fredrick felt guiltier by the moment.
“Wait, you two; Have you seen my husband? He’s not feeding the goats and chickens like normal. I had to make a knight do it. He’s been out of it lately. Our son is returning this autumn.”
“What does your husband look like? My familiar Nihten can search from the sky.” Merriam inquired. She was a sucker for helping people on a tangent. Icthya smiled at Nihten.
“My son has a bird familiar too. Are you a mage?”
“Stop for a second.” Fredrick interjected. “The Gardner is commanding knights?”
“I’m ‘Queen’.” Icthya snorted, she started fixing the bushes.
“Well, in that case, ‘King’ Odysseus is in the library passionately writing a letter.”
“Oh, wedding planning for our son! He must be getting along with my brother Cetus.” Icthya smiled. Merriam tilted her head,
“I’ve met him; He knitted me socks in two hours. Full circle then. Well, would you by any chance help us prove our identities, so we can live anew? We’re Odette’s parents. As Queen you must h-.”
“I’m not sure about queenly stuff, but I do know the records better then Oddie. I had to put away all of Morgan’s books when he was little. I bet I can find proof you existed Merry and-” Icthya looked at Fredrick. She recognized him from the art. “King Fredrick?!” She gasped. He nodded cautiously.
“Well then, I think you’ll have no problem! Everyone learns about him, and many know magic. If you say ‘time magic’, and gesture to Fredrick, the right person could help you.” Icthya shrugged. “But if I may, why do you want to get government ID first? Wouldn’t it be worth your time to adjust to modern times? What about Odette? I think she needs her parents, given she’s misusing her magic for them. She might be struggling. Same thing happened with Morgan; Scares me silly.” Icthya continued. Fredrick was clicking at a real cat this time, and ruffling behind its ears. Merriam softened; it was her turn to fell regret.
“I guess that’s true Icthya. It would be a shame to hate a child for bringing back their parents. She left us at twelve, and we never got to know her as an adult. Though I wish I had died, I can’t go back; I can’t dishonour her. Not after her effort, and spending so many years wishing she had stayed.” Merriam looked at her feet; She felt unable to embrace the opportunity quite yet. Seeing her wilt, Fredrick handed her the cat.
“If we get to be a family again, and have youth, we can make choices. Merriam, before we ever got wed, what did you dream of doing? I always wondered what choice you lost, that made you so resentful.” Fredrick asked. Merriam grimaced. She’d buried that dream long ago. She was too old and bitter for such things. Her ambiance became a consuming blackness.
“Dream big Merry! You have a new life, and little to lose! I’m so curious; What did a Mage Queen really want as a girl?” Icthya encouraged. Merriam stared into middle-distance; She now wanted Fredrick and Odette in her dream, but that’s not what they were asking. They wanted to know her first wish. Merriam inhaled deeply.
“I wanted to become an old hag, living in a thicket of whimsical wonders, without a husband, or children. Starving in Francia with my father and milk-sister. Spending my days tending fey, observing my gate, and aiding wanderers. Adorned in kohl, rouge, and black. Peaceful solitude, surrounded by nature.” She confessed firmly. There was a pause. Fredrick began to uncontrollably laugh.
“Well, I’ll be damned if your father didn’t make a good choice sending you to my side! That sounds the opposite of the loving, and adventurous, woman I love. Your favourite colour is periwinkle, for wonders’ sake!” He chuckled. “How young did we make you a bride, for you to want something so miserable?” He went on. Merriam cringed with embarrassment. She had to agree.
They had lunch in the main hall, with Odysseus, Icthya, the five modern knights. Yesterday’s duck, peas, and radish, with today’s bread. They also had fresh butter, and bowls of pommes. The room was lit by the opened roof panels, providing a dusty glow. The walls were tall and red, the tables long. Every inch carved with pears and horses. Merriam loved how tacky and cozy this hall was. Fredrick however, thought the ponies a bit much.
In the afternoon, they offered services to earn their boarding, as they had no money. Everyone seemed calm, and accepted who they were. They had already seen Odette restore the acreage; It was not a far streach, to assume she’d bring back loved ones. Merriam and Fredrick spent the night in the Prince’s Cabin, where they bathed and put on sleeping gowns. They began reading Eatheltwein’s journals. Fredrick died before his nephew had a family. It tugged his heart to once more read the poor grammar, and excited tone. All the illustrations were in yellow. Fredrick wanted to be mad people read his diaries, but in their defence, he was dead. It made Fredrick sad to read how people felt after losing him, and reading about the milestones he missed. Merriam brought him tea.
“I now understand Merry. I see why you told our daughter to let you go. I was happier in my last moments, being optimistic about my recovery, then reading these accounts. Having my last thoughts be of love, instead of knowing the woe of my kin and the memories I never made. It makes me feel distant. If there is anything else I missed, don’t tell me. I’m unsure my heart can bear it. I wish I’d never known this. Was it better to pass in ignorant bliss, then live on? This changes things.” Fredrick cried. Merriam hugged him, as it got dark.
“I know. I’m so lost. It fells empty. I never planned for this. How does I live again? Wanting more from each moment, and resenting the past’s charm.”
NEXT --->
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this isn't the best picture bc it's only the first one but here's a preview for my Swapdyne, Icthya
#the name is borrowed from that one guy who followed my artblog when i was a kid lol. didn't know them very well but it's a cute name#underswap undyne#swapdyne#us!undyne#utmv swap undyne#boughverse icthya#kernels popt art
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this is why Icthya isn't allowed in the entomology labs anymore
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Ringmaster icthya
Picture for my latest animation. Might upload a link to YouTube when it's done but tired so probably not
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Tales of Ealden Cynedom: 34. The Green Letters (2/4)
34. The Green Letters (chapter 2 - Floral Arrangements 2/4) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
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“Dear paternal traitor,
Though I nearly incinerated your letter, the bride showed investment in your efforts. Additionally, I don’t want to stoop to your level. Morgan said he wanted Delphia to wear the dress late prince Ethelstan designed, for the promised Daneia Lady whom Delphia is to replace. Morgan assured me you have those records.
Regarding his clothing, he wishes to wear the Emerald Gryphon robes he restored this year. He also indicated that he wanted the celebration to be blue and pink, and clove duck served. For flowers, he asked for white columbine and white poppy, with ribbons tied to the right; And purple hyacinth and verbena, with ribbons to the left. I stopped asking after a certain point. Flower’s are my little sister’s thing, and he is a Seer after all.
It is also worth mentioning, that Delphia is being held hostage in Pepperidge, by an Earl Kjiatin Torchblood. You should plan how to transport her, and preferably not return her. Pepperidge seems to still have low opinions of her. I’m not sure how I personally feel, now that she quit monopolizing my nephew. They do get along.
Though I want you to know as little as possible about my family, I have you know Morgan’s voice coaching has gone well. He goes mute sometimes, due to the trauma you caused him. It was triggered when Emilia left for her first tour, and his friends were busy. I should’ve been more available, but I also have to feed him. Me and Jupiter are a little sad these days; Our daughter moved out and I can’t sleep. Do you even remember Reggie?
Also, since Delphia mentioned it, can I be invited to the ceremony? To make sure you don’t hit my nephew again? Or will my sister Icthya keep you accountable? I wonder why she stayed with you; Was it True Love’s Spell, or the complexity of domestic violence? I wouldn’t know, because I don’t neglect those I love.
Tell Icthya I miss her.
Whale, hope this doesn’t help,
Mr. Dawnhill.
P.S. You can send letters directly to me. I live in my dead parent’s house; We painted the kitchen white.
16 Tower Rd, E
Pepperidge, Anglia Mainland: GW1 P42”
Odysseus slouched in his saddle. He was in only his boots and underwear, trying to pull a horse out of a muddy ditch, as the Duke of Northpoint read him the letter. In Cetus’s absence, Duke Ravensong had been good company. He attended every traditional celebration hosted at the ranch. Like Odysseus, he had a bloodline title that gave him little importance these days. However, as good a friend he was, he did slap Odysseus after the domestic violence charges. Even being a witness to remove custody. He was no replacement for Cetus. Cetus was a bucket of laughs, and a poor looser while playing darts. Odysseus was cut deep, but not surprised, to hear that Cetus still hated him. When the horse was free, Odysseus staggered to the bath room tracking mud.
“Are you ok? Did my brother write back?” Icthya called, picking up the dirty letter.
“I miss our son and Cetus. Also, you’re a florist; Do the flowers mean anything to you?” Odysseus called down the hall. Icthya opened the letter; She frowned before giggling.
“No. But they’ll compliment the pink and blue decorations.” Icthya chimed back. She knew exactly what Morgan was conveying with the flowers: An Old-fashioned floral burn. Icthya continued to examine the letter.
“Wait, does Cetus mean the Kjatin Torchblood of Peak Suna? He wed to your big sister, right?”
Odysseus slid deeper into the tub. His sister had leaked the secret constitutional monarchy to the Torchblood family. That meant Kjatin would be at the ‘wedding’, with a smug look on his face; Having appeased some higher-up wizards to give his niece a step up. All it took was abusing some teenagers. Odysseus was livid.
******
Fear of death makes people stupid. A year of comparison, and the stress of near-death, cause Delphia became obsessed with being worthy. She’d never match Emilia, but she needed to do something. Proof she was on Pepperidge’s side. The wedding was never a priority. I need a grand gesture. Delphia thought, adorning her pink gilded dragon robes; Not enchanted, but perfect for a wizard. She tied her strawberry hair back with blue finger loops, revealing the rings of silver in her ears. But in the mirror, she saw a familiar face at the door; A built man covered in mythical tattoos, blue eyes, and a golden mane twisted and clipped with silver.
“Uncle Kjatin? This is the tower of Tiberius Gate; You shouldn’t be here. How did you get past all the fey?”
“Casually.” He grinned. Delphia, tensed, as he approached.
“May I help you?” She suggested. Kjatin scowled. He walked right up, and tore off her wizard robes, and stays, down to the chamise. They slid into threads on the floor. Delphia froze solid. He then ripped the silver from her ears, cut her hair and the finger loops, then pushed her over to rip her traditional knit stalking’s. Delphia found herself gripping her arms on the floor crying and cold. Kjatin whipped the Kohl from her face, with her own tears.
“My wife informs me that a bride to Anglia cannot bring her culture with her; Nor be a wizard.” Kjatin whispered, slowly bending and snapping Delphia’s wand, inches from her face. Years of school, and a dream, in splinters. Kjatin walked off with heavy steps. Delphia had never felt so helpless. It was so surprising she had gone rigid. She would feel guilty calling Morgan for help; She wasn’t even sure he could help. She felt pathetic.
While everyone was at work, Delphia shoved her shredded belongings into a trunk, and applied first-aid. Her condition might cause Morgan to panic. Applying gauss to her ears, she looked out the bubble glass window of the great tower. She saw the expanse of the encircling black walls of the gate. Within the tower, she was at its center. The Shadow Veil before her; A grand gesture of dedication. Echoed in Delphia’s mind.
Anyone who is not a mage, will succumb to the severe hemorrhagic fever from going dark upon entering the ether. The depravation of the senses in the Shadow Veil, causes turmoil great enough to kill. But that plane contained the Beast Kings. As Morgan was King Mage, they saw him as a sibling. Now that is a grandest gesture, to prove one’s love of magic and dedication; Risking one’s life to appease magic itself.
*****
Cetus walked into his tech shop, on call, only to see his mailbox full after the weekend. To his dismay, there was a green letter.
“To my one true beluga,
Thank you for your correspondence. I know you have harsh feelings towards me; justifiably so.
Tell Morgan I’ll have the dress made, and that Icthya is taking care of the flowers. Morgan’s request made her laugh. I love when she laughs.
I forgot to add that Raven Queen Odette, the lost princess of Anglia, is coming. I told her to wear the periwinkle dress. Morgan might be thrilled, since he’s so close with the Beast Kings. Personally, I think she’s a romantic under all that regality.
Regarding Kjatin, he’s technically my brother-in-law. I don’t think he’s dangerous, but if you find him, report him. I’m removing him and my sister from the guestlist, for inciting violence; And involving wizards in mundane matters. Two can play at forgotten decree abuse. As for your family’s invitation, I’m unsure as of now.
Additionally, there is little I can do to help Delphia get here safely. She didn’t ask for any of this. Just like Morgan. Maybe you know a paladin?
I hope everyone is well. Send a smile to Emilia, Jupiter, and Delphia, for me.
Kind Regards,
Oddie”
“He doesn’t know when to stop, does he? Too much heart to keep it to himself. I wonder how he’s doing, even though I want to not care. I never thought to ask after he lost custody; I hope it hurt. Bet he still tortures himself. That bastard owes me a third chance at goat tossing. I should be the uncle attending that meaningless pageantry. Its bad enough Morgan’s best friend isn’t; A friend who is a loyal paladin too! What a mess.” Cetus rambled, as a customer stared from the camera section.
NEXT--->
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Delphia in casual cloths; All hexes included!
34. The Green Letters (chapter 3 - Grand Gesture 3/4 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
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When Cetus got home, he immediately grabbed a ballpoint from the junk drawer. Cetus was suddenly excited to write his letter. The world nearly disappeared as he sat at the dining table with his looseleaf.
“Cetus are you actually writing to dad?” Morgan asked. He had been sitting there with a pot of tea the whole time. It was the one with the Nordic tea-cozy’s Cetus knitted.
“Oh tea!” Cetus jumped, grabbing a cup. “Nothing like a beverage with creative projects!”
“True. But, um, uncle I have-”
“Your father wishes you well; Apparently Queen Odette is coming. I asked really nice if I could attend; To make sure your father’s a changed man. Well, as much as an abuser can change.” Cetus smiled starting the letter. “This whole party planning is making me wonder if our friendship is worth slowly reforging. How do you feel about him and the ceremony these days?”
“Ambivalent? Look, uncle Cetus-”
“Oh, that’s good; Not caring is a solid foundation for caring. Speaking of caring, do you have any ideas on how to get Delphia to the ranch safely? There aren’t any available paladins. Also, this Kjatin guy Delphia mentioned, just got uninvited. That makes me, best uncle.”
“Uncle Cetus! I don’t care about the wedding, and I’m recovered enough to meet my dad! I have bigger fish to fry; Delphia is missing! Emilia found her bloody wizard robes, and snapped wand, in a trunk while looking for my left socks!” Morgan yelled. He was hyperventilating, and had gone pale. Cetus dropped his pen, but was too late as Morgan feinted onto the carpet.
“Dear Odysseus Cynedom,
Do you know if me and Jupiter can go to the wedding yet? Since you’re an uncle short? Also, what about Emilia attending?
I think I’m ok to see you and my sister again; Maybe share existential dread over some spiced wine. Remember when the kids were little, and I kept falling off the horse on your ranch? Or when you came over here, and we made our kids wear me and Icthya’s matching clothes? I want it to be like that. I’m not sure I can forgive you, or anyone can. But I don’t want to spend forever hating a family member. Ignore the historical re-enactments; This is an opportunity! I’ll even knit you something.
However, I agree about Delphia; She seems to have changed this year. This place has that effect on people. I think it’s the abundance of Happily Ever Afters. Maybe their contagious.
Between Cadence, employment, and the wedding, Morgan seems to be stressed. I can tel,l because I haven’t received a hug in a while. But I think he’ll be ok.
Also, haven’t seen Kjatin, but Delphia is missing; Everyone is keeping an eye out. Morgan is trying to make her some protective clothes, since my daughter’s out of town. Reggie became a fine Warlock; I’m so proud.
Best,
Cetus”
********
Delphia felt the Shadow Veil rip the sensation from her body. She felt like an apparition, in a hauntingly quite grayscale photo; Blurred edges and all. Her heart loudly throbbed, as she looked for the only thing that could provided sensation: Magic. Knowing nothing, Delpia had entered the Rat Kingdom door of Tiberius Gate’s wall. She looked around the tall silver wheat, gripping the hem of her gown. She tripped over a rope, and hear a snap from the brush. Fear had taken her, and Delphia’s bones froze.
“Who is it?” a sharp voice sounded. A large brown rat with golden eyes and a dazzling crown stood up, over her.
“D, Delphia Torchblood.” She quivered.
“What is a Commoner doing here?”
“I, I come to be on good terms with all of magic. To show my support for your brother Morgan.” She stuttered. Delphia’s Witch training was tested, as she remained calm; A lethal overflow of ether was around the corner.
“So, you’re that Witch hired by wizards that kill my children? The dame who unthreads the sanctity of my brother’s True Love Spell?” The Rat King screeched.
“No. I’ I’ve changed. I’ll never be-”
“I hear you’ve got a silver tongue; How about a better one? I of stealth and riddles, fancy the ways of words. Want to help mine brother, and prove yourself to magic? Have this curse of persuasion, in hopes you may also get gifts of half us kings. Then maybe we’ll consider you a friend. Now, be careful what you say!” The Rat King cackled, grabbing her roughly. The hex burned. As tears welled from Delphia’s face. She began to glow, barely keeping dark at bay, vigorously nodding in compliance.
Dashing down the mountain, and through the songs of mythic birds, Delphia aimed for The Fairy Kingdom. The Fairy King can make robes that guard against spell and blade; And fairies are Morgan’s favourite fey. But instead, Delphia tumbled into the vibrant Tree Kingdom. Everything had colour and whispered; Every inch of this fjord was a living fey. Still glowing and brewing a fever, Delphia continued South. Only to run into a tall woman, of oak skin and a crystal flowered crown.
“You’ve made it far. Seems one of my brothers has cursed you.” She said.
“Yes, um, I’m just here trying to make friends. Are you the Tree King? It’s nice to meet you. I ask no gift from you, as your children have already given me so many.” Delphia charmed.
“All who meet me get a gift! Here.” The Tree king said, pulling a deep violet plum from her crown, and feeding it to Delphia. She had taken insult by the refusal of her charity, given her face.
“This will make you poison to anything that Morgan doesn’t love. You isolated him from his supports, now it’s your turn.” She scowled.
“But I stopped that! Morgan needs his family! I care! That’s why I’m here; To show I can support him, and genuinely care for everyone’s interests.” Delphia yelled into the woods, as the Tree King left. “I just-” Delphia teared. She was so confused; The Tree King was supposed to be the sweetest of them all.
The flow of magic weakened Delphia as she wept; Still heading to the frosted Fairy Kingdom. Arriving, she curled up under a swirling ice bridge, by the sleeping naiads. Her head in her knees, Delphia tried to stay calm. Her state could kill her, but it would not be a grand quest if it was easy.
“Delphia?” A sweet voice chimed. In the reflection of the creek, was a large pale lady in glittering chiffon, with three crystal butterfly wings. A crown of ice and flushed cheeks. The scent of winters dawn.
“Hello Fairy King. I hope Morgan said good things about me?” Delphia sniffed.
“He didn’t say much actually. But I can tell you are dedicated to questing; You’re really holding on in here! I bet you came to me for Fairy Robes, to stop the rangers my children gossip about.”
“Actually, I come for friendship. But I’d never say no to that offer.” Delphia said. Focusing on the brilliance of the Fairy King, brought sensation to her. Delphia cooled slightly. Then the Fairy King tossed a black horned tiara at her.
“Fairy Robes! But only Morgan can put them on. I’d hate to see him suffer if someone he knew died. Humans are touchy about that.” The Fairy King giggled. Delphia held the tiara; This is supposed to protect me?
“Yes, your highness! I’ll put it to good use. Or I guess he will…” Delphia nodded, getting up. Her noose bled onto the white muslin slip, but it only looked black in the colourless veil. Bowing, Delphia left to entice more kings before she succumbed.
The Dragon King curled around his mountain throne; Visible from every inch of the Shadow Veil. The most powerful of Beast Kings. But Delphia got distracted by the beach she’d only seen in paintings; The Fish Kingdom. Why the chime of sea daughters drew her like a Northland sailor. She made the mistake of touching the tide with her toes. Delphia was pulled in by the Fish King; A bodacious mermaid with a ghostly flowing silhouette, like an ill koi. Delphia eased, as the water cooled her rising temperature. She gasped at the surface, as The Fish King let go.
“Hello Fish King! How are you this day? I’m just admiring your children’s voices, and seeking good relations.” Delphia smiled faintly.
“No, you’re not. You’re a dumb girl with unrequited love, torn from home, and putting your life in danger to impress your in-laws. Did you stop to think how Morgan might feel if he learned a friend was in danger? Or are you still only focused on yourself?”
“Please don’t curse me, I’m trying my best and agree with your evaluation.”
“But I love a good curse! I’ll make you a flawless as a pearl. Desired by many, but only loving one. You can consider yourself initiated into my kingdom of bloodthirsty radiant maidens. See, I’m not as inconsiderate of human nature as my siblings. Humans adore being desirable, yes?” The Fish King smiled, beaching Delphia by the cliffs. She hadn’t climbed rocks so fast in her life. She loved magic, but now understood why some feared it.
Delphia was most excited to meet the Dragon King. She’d reached the mountain top, and fidgeted as she looked around. He’d given her people magic houses, and thus her ability to learn wizardry. The ability to love magic as a mage would. But things were getting blurry. Delphia decided to lay on the marble slopes to catch her breath. She wondered if she should turn back, but it went black before she decided.
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#art#tales of ealden cynedom#fantasy#delphia#short stories#morgan#Cetus#Dragon King#fish king#rat king#Tree King
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Raven Queen Odette, drawn as her parents; I gave her a wardrobe update.
37. The Second Chance (chapter 4 - Palace of Memories 4/4 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
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Fredrick and Merriam couldn’t stay on the ranch she once called home. Time had passed, and they were no longer a part of this place. They were brought back with few clothes, and forgotten names. Accumulating cats, while doing house chores. Odette had yet to visit Merriam and Fredrick; For someone who dearly missed her parents, to the point she’d move time to be have them, she sure wasn’t with them. They knew their time to move on had come, when Odysseus walked into their cabin.
“I want you to go to the Raven Gate in the Capitol. That palace is a museum of restored things; Odette might be there if she’s feeling sentimental. Additionally, we need this place for my son’s stupid performative wedding.” He explained. Merriam and Fredrick cringed, remembering the dryness of their purely ceremonial union. They hadn’t realized they were True Loves then. It was a terrible day; Fredrick having buried his parents, and Merriam torn from her dreams. Odysseus saw them wilt at the mere mention of nuptials. Fredrick changed the subject, by requesting the money to oblige him. Odysseus slapped tickets to the Capitol, and museum, into their hands.
“The old and new, awaits you.” He chuckled.
Merriam was appalled that her Raven Gate was in a state of upheaval. It was requested by the state, and stood in the city square; Now forming an unattended magic ‘forest’, full of frustrated fey and Common Folk. What crimes against magic occurred after her murder? The people acted like they forgot the city was enchanted; Like they forgot about her.
Merriam and Fredrick looked around their old home, which now hosted their old things on display. It was surreal to see people fawning over their used personals. There was also art, linages, clothing, and more; Each with accurate, but easily misinterpreted, plackets about the nation’s history. Merriam and Fredrick found it mildly amusing, to see modern families coo at emphatically worded descriptions of their daily lives. The galleries had just opened on a work day, and the visitors were people taking children for an outing. Beneath the educational front, the castle was still itself; Local grey granite, with only the tiles made from The Grand West’s famous black marble. A sanitized version, of what felt like home.
Fredrick was bewildered to see his favourite tunic untouched by time. To see the crown shimmering on display dumbfounded him. His neck hurt remembering it’s heft. The golden circle of gryphons with peridot pears, was strictly ceremonial.
“Look Merry!” Fredrick pointed to their shoes. She was looking at a painting of him. Fredrick approached curiously.
“I don’t remember getting this one done.” He tilted his head.
“I commissioned it shortly after your passing. It was hung with your forefathers in this very ballroom. It’s always been here, unlike these glass cases. Did you know our daughter kept me in one in? In the Shadow Veil? Where is she even? I swore Icthya and Odysseus were onto something...” Merriam jittered. She was furiously petting Nihten. Fredrick leaned in.
“Thank you. It dapicts everything I love. My colours from going dark, strawberries, roses, and my most comfortable clothes. Oh, and look; The painter didn’t even know how to do cats right.” he smiled.
“Yes. All sweet things. Just like you.” Merriam flirted.
As they moved down the room, they examined the linage on the wall. Fredrick pointed to himself, Eatheltwein, and followed it down the wall to Odysseus and Morgan at the end. It named every prince, princess, and Queen; Except Merriam. Beyond its comprehension, they moved into what was once the study wing.
Upon the best lit hall, where the windows overlooking the castle’s layers; Each hosting a courtyard, that trailed to the main steps. Merriam and Fredrick could see the now sprawling city. Even The Raven Gate sitting in the main square, as it always had. Merriam looked behind her, as a family walked buy; Also admiring the view. She went still. There were five perfectly lit tapestries. One for each of her knights. The eldest, white knight Sir. Holly, had his flag poised to indicate he was following, not leading, into a battle. Their eyes and hair were their given colour: White, red, green, yellow, and blue. Thus, indicating they’d already gone dark, after returning from a quest with Merriam. The quest she returned from, only to find Odette gone.
“Oh. Our knights. The men I lent to you. We were all good friends…” Fredrick sighed. “You must miss them more then I.”
“I do. But I can’t help but to remember their Happily Ever Afters. Do you change your mind about staying ignorant, Fredrick? Do want to know what happened to them? Take solace in knowing they passed after a beautiful life?” Merriam whispered. She had a tinge of jealousy. Fredrick took a breath and nodded. The smooth threads of the restored textiles glowed. Glittering knots, depicting vines, horses, and vibrant colours. There was a sign telling people not the touch the ethereal weaving.
“Sir. Holly, the white knight, died shortly after you. He had retired far to late; At the age of ninety!” Merriam smiled; Her posture perfectly poised. Still a queen in nature, as she methodically examined the fine work. Fredrick warmed to se her smile.
“The red Knight, Sir. Apple, actually retired after the formation of parliament. He Start a knight’s school in North Point. Do you recall that he always had a squire?” She chimed. Merriam drew their attention to the youngest knight, pulling a bow upon a dun horse.
“Speaking of which, one of his student’s! The Yellow Knight, Sir. Marigold, left our guard to teach paladins to respect for magic. I wonder if it actually worked, given the stubbornness of wizards.” Merriam pondered. Fredrick looked at Sir. Holly further, he felt something was off about the set.
“The Green Knight, Sir. Rosemary, went to help immigration and trade at Boarder Town, by Francia. His love, The Blue Knight, Sir. Sage, lived the rest of his days defending and serving this palace.” She concluded. Merriam felt uplifted recalling her companions; But Frederick looked confuddled.
“But, where are you? They should be following you. I gave them to you for quests. They travelled the world, and bravely faced all manors of magic. Fine men. Not the brightest, but the dearest and Nobelist.” Fredrick nagged. Merriam held her breath. She knew why her scroll was gone. Merriam was there when it was sewn. Ever since Odette resurrected her, Merriam had no trace.
“As all other mages of the time, I suspect they removed all word of me. How scandalous it would have been, for their peace bringer and queen was of such taboo talents. Those upcoming wizards would surly not admit it. That’s how I died Fredrick. I gave into them like all the other mages. I fought them off from the gate without my fairy robes. A creaky grandmother, awaiting her mortal destiny. Before that, there was a time I wanted to disappear. Now, I don’t know.” Merriam said. It stung. She changed her mind; Merriam wanted her mage journals read. She didn’t like being noone, feeling alone in this palace again. Her knowledge as a Seer, could’ve helped someone if she’d kept them on the ranch.
“You should be with them.” Fredrick interrupted.
“I know.” Merriam exhaled slowly.
“No, I mean there’s a little note. I think it indicates that you’re scroll is being restored by a collection holder. Morgan maybe?” Fredrick said, looking to the right. A smile appeared on Merriam’s face, further cheering her husband. That boy must’ve connected the dots while they were at the ranch.
They sat in the garden sampling fruit they packed. They’d seen the whole palace, and now felt anxious about Odette. Merriam looked around nervously; The fountain was worn, yet all the same plants were there. People had painstakingly kept the yard as it once was. Fredrick noted the same golden geese swam in the pond, and how Odette and Eatheltwein would sing to them. He then looked up to the second-floor windows; The dormitory wing. Odette’s windows overlooked the back courtyard, as she wanted a room that opened to a walkway. Odette may have had her True Love’s Kiss with the Raven King on that balcony. Merriam turned her attention there too. She felt the pain of the day she came home to a missing child. A child she never wanted, but couldn’t help but love. Merriam remembered how she used to sing to Odette, in many languages, even though she hated music. Despondent, the pair returned to watching the families eating in the garden.
However, they were unable to resist looking back once more. Merriam turned to see a lady that looked much like her, all in white. Odette smiled sweetly at her mother.
“Odette! Come down here this instant!” Merriam scowled. When Odette shook her head, Merriam got up, and ran into the castle, up the secret stairwell, and tor into Odette’s room. She tripped over the bungee cord keeping people out of the recreated space. Fredrick followed suit. Luckily, this room had carpets over the stone floor, breaking their fall. Odette gasped, and helped her parent’s up, only to receive a tight embrace.
“I’m so mad.” Merriam sobbed.
“I’m sorry. I was scared to talk after realizing my error. Remembering you, after meeting Morgan, reopened the hole where my lost childhood should be. But it is not my place to decide-”
“No Odette, I’m mad I have to make it work. I would be a hypocrite to defile your efforts to save me. Despite my wishes, I cannot blame someone for loving. I cannot deny my daughter her happiness.”
“Well, I’m mad you forgot to visit us, after bringing us back!” Fredrick grumbled. “Apologize for this abuse of spell-craft; Which is not even your worst crime here.” He snapped. Fredrick was seldom angry, causing his wife and daughter to flinch.
“How dare you grow up without us. Couldn’t you have waited a little longer to requite the Raven King’s love? Or at least told us? Visited before loosing yourself? Before I died.” Fredrick crumbled.
“Father… I, I admit I lacked maturity, when presented with True Love’s Spell. I had no clue the Shadow Veil would fade my memories. I’m sorry father. There is no way to undo this. I brought you both back, without consideration of your lives’ after doing so. I dare say I’m terribly impulsive.” Odette confessed. The family huddled a little longer, unsure what to do next. Comforted, Fredrick had more questions:
“Does this mean we have living grandchildren? Can we meet them?” He said. Odette smiled yes. She helped them up, walked outside, and pointed to the golden geese in the fountain, and a silver phoenix on a turret. Then she pointed to four-winged opalescent ravens by the trash bins.
“Those are the princesses I actually bared. The princes’ however, are unruly and kept in a Death Tree. As much as I love them, but the grinding noise their corvid skulls, while consuming flesh, is ghastly. They could fey and men. Though my youngest is sweet; He lives with people who bring him trinkets and roadkill.” Odette said. Fredrick had mixed feelings; Merriam was full of curiosity.
“I’d love to meet him once we’re settled!” Merriam smiled.
The family spent the rest of the day looking around the changed city. Odette stood out with her fey like appearance. The Raven King imbued her with his kingdom when they kissed. It didn’t seem to bother her parents much.
“Mother and father, what will we do next? I still have to be Queen, but you now have a lifetime to live. You had dreams before me, correct?” She inquired. Fredrick and Merriam knew the traps of creating goals and plans. They stalled, looking at the Magic Administration building; It attracted tourists due to the fact it is made of green stone, and much bigger on the inside.
“Do they have pubs with cats? Like you pay to get an ale, and sit in a room full of socialized healthy kittens to pet?” Fredrick contemplated. Though his wife and daughter shrugged, there was in fact, one five blocks away.
“This place gives me an idea. Two can play at these wizard games.” Merriam said, pulling Fredrick and Odette into the administration building. She walked in confidently, and stopped suddenly in front of the reception desk. The three of them waited patiently for the wizard to put down the phone. Looking up, the lady froze before Merriam’s demanding presence, and crow like garbs.
“Hello, I’m Mage Queen Merriam Craweleoth, and wish to speak to a leading wizard. I need to confirm my identity.” She announced. The wizard nodded, and reached for the phone again.
“Once that is done, I have a proposal; I see this magic city, sprawling from the Raven Gate I created, is in disorder. You might benefit from a mage’s presence. So, tell me wizard, instead of murdering me, how about you tell me how I can help?”
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Odysseus in some more kingly ceremonial robes, and a goat; It’s strange because he’s actually addicted to jeans and plaid flannels.
34. The Green Letters (chapter 43 - Grand Gesture 4 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
none
“Dear Cetus,
Thank you for the reassurance. I’m glad to hear my son and Delphia will arrive safely. Unfortunately, you will have to take her back; And convince Gemini she’s Witch material. Unless she gets pregnant, because there’s another piece of paper which says everyone of house Cynedom has to be born on this ranch; And be named by their grandfather. I’m unsure if the line will continue though, as Morgan asserted he’s asexual and Delphia’s probably just a friend. But magic houses are The Raven King’s problem, not my son’s.
Also, thank you for reminding me how your five-year-old daughter rode a horse better then you, and how cute my son is; I bet he’s as tall as me now. I’m sad I missed him growing up. Everything I hear is from your phone calls with Icthya, and it’s not the same.
Regarding rekindling any sort of relationship, I have good news! Due to my weakness for Icthya’s smile, and as own of the ranch, I have declared thee, your wife, and Emilia, royal guests to the wizard binky ball this autumn.
See you all soon!
Oddi.”
Cetus read aloud to Morgan, giving them a giggle. Cetus had bribed the local Garden wildling to be messenger; The ranch had a gate in a well that fairies could transverse, faster than national post. While on Tiberius Gate with Morgan, Cetus started to search for Delphia again; Hoping she’d returned, or left clues. It had been almost three days since she vanished. Morgan patrolled riding his familiar Icarus, but it was hard to see past the tree-line on an eagle’s back. Delphia’s disappearance had given everyone in town anxiety; But none more then Cetus and Morgan, who knew about the rangers.
“Cetus, I’m worried.” Morgan said, looking in every room as they ascended the tower. “I don’t want friends dragged into my mythical mishaps. She’s doesn’t deserve this, and was trying her best.” He murmured. Cetus panted, feeling his age.
“It’ll be fine when it’s all over; I’ve got your dad on it.” Cetus panted, feeling his age. Then Morgan went rigid; A downward spiral had stirred.
“Wait, my dad is in on this? What if he gets angry?! What if I’m not actually not ready to meet him?! This is a disaster!”
**************
She awoke with regrets, as she lay helpless and ill from the ether; This quest was beyond ‘Grand Gesture’, and circled into ‘poor impulsivity management’. A large white reptilian nose pocked from the clouds, retreated, and a tall man appeared. He wore spiked golden armour, and white velveteen; A silken cape trailing behind him like folded wings, and a spined tail.
“One of my housed! But you shouldn’t be here. But all is well. Once you sleep more, I will return you to Peak Suna.” The Dragon King said calmly.
“No, they will kill me if I show up back home. Just before this, my uncle came and tore everything from home, away. I’m so scared. Please; I want to stay with Morgan, and be the future Witch of Pepperidge. I hoped coming here would show my dedication to magic and Morgan. Prove I’ve changed. But this was a terrible mistake. I’m sorry for invading your kingdoms to feel better about myself.” Delphia rambled. The King knelt down; He collected the stories of humans, and was appeased. He noticed her ripped ears, hair, and clothes. Her people had indeed forsaken her. Moved, The Dragon King began putting marks of his children on her back, arms and shins; His children loved that Daneia did that. It would be something that no one could take from Delphia, without killing her. Nothing enchanted, just something to make her feel special.
“I will agree to good terms with a human under my influence. But you need healing, and my fire is too strong. I’s ask my wife, but I suspect the Beast Queens wouldn’t give you a healing embrace, as you’ve spoiled True Love.”
“Spoil True Love’s Spell? That’s silly. Those spells are unbreakable. Morgan and Emilia will always love each other now. There’s nothing I could do to tarnish that, even if I wanted to.” Delphia smiled. The Dragon King sighed, and picked up Delphia. He stopped suddenly as something caught his attention:
“Queen Odette? Since when do you perch upon my throne?” he asked.
“I will heal her; And return her to the tower.” Odette replied, approaching with poise. Pristine dove-like ruff, and layers of pale silk embroidered with wings. Delphia looked up at her in confusion.
“My husband requires her womb to revive a dying magic house. I require that wedding to happen, as requiting the Raven King denied me attendance of my cousin’s ceremony. I’m invested in her. Selfishly so, but still.” She affirmed.
“Wait, don’t touch me; I’m poisonous to things Morgan doesn’t love. What if you get poisoned?”
“I’m magic, and family; I trust I’m something he cares about.” She said kissing Delphia’s head, and transporting her into the main hall of Tiberius’s tower. Like a vision, Odette vanished to her kingdom.
Cetus immediately noticed Delphia; in an under gown, soaked in sweat and blood. He ran over for a hug. Delphia was surprised to be greeted so warmly.
“You’re ok! Were you in the Shadow Veil!? You could have died!” Cetus yelled.
“I know. I guess I thought doing so would fix things. But you hugging me. Do you like me now? Did this show I care, and am not just a tool or invader?” Delphia whimpered.
“What? Show you care? I’m hugging you because you matter regardless. This all really got to you, didn’t it…” Cetus said. Delphia just looked at Morgan and offered the tiara.
“The Fairy King said it’s protective; But only you can put it on me. Also, the Dragon King gave me these Daneia marks, because Kjatin broke my things. The Tree King made me toxic to anyone you don’t love, and The Rat King made me even more of a manipulative-” She rambled. Morgan stopped her, by putting the tiara on; Resulting in the appearance of a glittery, draped black dress. Morgan Smiled.
“That was super stupid to do without me. Your years of studying are proof enough. As for people to believing you’ve changes, that’ll take time.” He explained.
*****
After his birthday, Morgan was considered old enough to wed. Which is to say it was legal, but not recommended for most people. He went to the ranch shortly after. Everyone wore traditional formal clothes, like it was a costume party. Delphia and Morgan were stiffened by nerves, even while she wore her protective dress the whole trip. They’d be staying a week, and it terrified everyone. At least Cetus and Jupiter came with them.
Upon arrival to the ranch, Morgan appeared to jitter. He froze at the ranch’s title, swinging above the entrance of the low stone wall. A few deep breaths, and they signed the guest list. All the security dressed like knights. Or they were knights; Morgan couldn’t remember. One pace in, and he bumped his father. Odysseus twitching like a puppy. Cetus intervened, by hugging Odysseus, as he starred at his son. It comforted Morgan to see them not fighting like last time. Odysseus had visited illegally for a hug, which Morgan resisted. But this time, as his father embraced him, Morgan melted. They didn’t need words to express their desire to start over. Behind Odysseus was Icthya, giving Delphia and Emilia the same treatment; Then she dragged them to their cabin to get properly dressed. Morgan and Delphia would need to be polished for tomorrow.
While everyone ran around the next day, the family had woken early from anxiety. They were already clean and dressed. Morgan looked like a prince in his embroidered teal tunic, which brought out the tawny in his hair. Icthya and Odysseus looked like royalty in their emeralds and gold. Delphia wore the pink and silver embroidered dress, as commissioned. Emilia looked like a jazz singer. But Cetus’s attire reminded Delphia of what Kjatin took. He had blue embroider collar, silver, furs, and kohl. Half Daneia on his father’s side.
Before she could break, Delpia was shuffled to the goat pen. The goats were small and soft. Bred for centuries on the ranch. They had three purposes: milking, sheering, and tossing. Morgan joined his family, to look them over.
“They’re so cute! I want to hold one like a baby.” Delphia giggled. Emilia snorted. Morgan never really liked goat-tossing; They’re too adorable to be projectiles.
“So, Morgan, which one do you think is light enough to travel, but sturdy enough to land?” Odysseus said, wrapping his arm around Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan flinched a little. Odysseus also looked uncomfortable.
“Wow. Your, um, tall now. Like me. I’m ah, going to have to really work to give you piggy-backs now.” He stuttered. His boy had in fact, grown up without him. Morgan pointed to a soft white nanny. Odysseus whipped his face, and went into the pen.
“Um, what’s the goat for?” Delphia asked. Odysseus put the goat under his arm like a pillow.
“Just in case.” Odysseus shrugged.
At the alter, Delphia and Morgan stood emotionless. A speech in Elden Anglian was recited, as a green cloth tied over their wrists. There was a forced applause. Meanwhile, Odysseus patted the goat, as he skimmed the crowd. When everyone got up to leave, Delphia spotted Odette. She dashed over, intent on expressing gratitude, while still tied to Morgan. Delphia bowed to Odette; Her flowy periwinkle gown, draping perfectly. Without her Raven Queen gowns, and in such traditional dress, Odette blended in. Morgan thought she looked like her mother from the paintings.
“Thank you, Odette! For healing me, and taking me home. Also vouching for me, coming to this occasion, and restoring this ranch-” Delphia sobbed.
“No. Thank you for letting me finally attend my cousins wedding, and putting so many minds at ease. Your existence alone should hopefully deter some wizards from magery for a good while.” Odette smiled. She stood up, and looked into the orchard.
The party continued, as they served clove duck, pear pudding, and then danced. Everyone said hello to people they didn’t know. Due to spice wine, the conversation soured, and Cetus decided to escort his wife, nephew, Emilia, and Delphia, back to the cabin. A weight was lifted. At least until horse riding tomorrow.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to stay up a little late with your mother and father, Sport.” Cetus smiled, ruffling Morgan’s hair. Morgan nodded, and a creak sounded behind Delphia. Something was in the orchard. But that’s not what Everyone jump; A white nanny bleated a good eighteen feet passed them, hitting Kjatin in the face and into the blackberries.
“Knights! Arrest him!” Odysseus yelled like a giddy child. Three guards came, and dragged Kjatin to the security cabin. “I’ve always wanted say that.”
“Good throw sire!” One joked. Delphia had started crying compulsively, as Morgan tried to comfort her.
“Oddi, my heart nearly left my body! Why is he here!?” Cetus snapped.
“No clue. I just suspected he would come.” Odysseus shrugged. “Do any of you mind writing a report to deport him tomorrow?”
“Can we drag him behind a horse first?” Delphia sneered. Then gasped realizing her abilities.
“I didn’t mean that! I just thought since we were riding anyway!” She flailed. Morgan turned to see his uncle and father breathless from laughter. They were unintelligibly talking, like their friendship never faltered.
“Why do I feel like everyone got something out of this other then me?” Morgan said under his breath. Delphia rubbed his shoulder.
“We should be getting to bed. It’s going to take an hour to get out of this outfit, and calm down.”
“It’s tradition to share a bed tonight.” Morgan whispered. Delphia cringed.
“Not like that. We just have to sleep together. Again, not like that. Like, to make sure I’m a good heated blanket and you don’t kill me, or something. Actually, it’s not really clear.” He continued. Delphia smiled, and comforted him on the way back into the cabin, serenaded by the chortle of reunited friends.
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Cetus has a letter to burn with his brother-in-law.
34. The Green Letters (chapter 1 - Hand Written 1/4 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
domestic violence
In Ealden Cynedom, people in magic houses can spend up to ten years of their life, to be wizards. But more often than not, people opt to learn mundane things like math, law, or trades. Ask any Common Folk, housed or not, and they’ll give you the same reasons why they prefer television to magic: Some people just want their laptops fixed, and modern medicine, without having to make deals with fairies for shill for potions.
Cetus, though loving magic, liked being Pepperidge’s only IT person. He ran the beat-up tech-shop. Each day after work, Cetus walked home and sat comfortably in his pink chair to knit. The days were soothingly similar. Cetus resolved some blue screens-of-death, asked if things were plugged in, and got electrocuted maintaining the singular cable-box. Today, Cetus had hooked up a landline to Tiberius Gate; The epicenter of Pepperidge’s magic. His nephew Morgan, had just moved there. Maybe Cetus hoped a phone would mean at least one of his children would call.
When Cetus got home, Delphia was fiddling with the white phone cord while she talked to her relatives in the Westlands. Cetus tried not to overhear. Everyone loved that phone, but there’s still something special about sending and receiving a handwritten letter. Cetus didn’t have this opinion, as he shuffled through their mail. He picked out a solid green letter stamped: ‘confidential’. Inside, was a green envelope sealed with wax. Inside that, there a pristinely illegible letter to decipher:
“Dear Cetus Dawnhill,
I wish to check in on your family, my son. Maybe even my Granddaughter Cadence, since I’ve yet to meet her. I thank you kindly for caring for my precious only child...”
Cetus winced. Oh no, It’s Odysseus. He thought, continuing to read.
“…I have important business I need your help with. The restraining order is not yet expired, and wont till Morgan’s birthday on the autumnal equinox; But I want to ask Morgan what he wants for this stupid traditional ‘royal’ wedding. I need to show him that I’m proud and supportive, by planning a perfect traditional ceremony. I know my son loves history, romance, and magic. It even turns out the ranch is enchanted, and is a historical sight; So that’s two out three!
Honestly, I feel a fool for letting the wizard administration take advantage of my dissociative episode. I had no clue there was a constitutional loop-hole; I spent all my time ridding horses instead of studying that stuff. I’m mostly bitter because Morgan’s heart belongs to Emilia by True Love’s Spell. This mundane betrothal with Duchess Delphia Torchblood, is my fault and insulting to everyone. Even far away, I seem to hurt my boy. I hope at least their mandatory bonding year went well, and Morgan has another friend.
Anyway, I miss Morgan more then words. All I ask, is that you help me make the occasion barrable.
Also, your sister Icthya says hello; She revived your apple tree from the goat tossing mishap.
Read from You Soon,
Odysseus Cynedom.
P.S. Please Return to the address below, so I can avoid Ingrid our post lady. She bit me once.
004-01, Yew Street NE
North-Point, Anglia Isle: GW2 L34”
Cetus wasn’t sure what was weirder; Odysseus wedding planning, or being asked to send a letter to an unspecified location. Cetus giggled recalling Ingrid biting Oddi at their joint wedding. But the fond memories didn’t change the fact that Odysseus beat Morgan bloody for years, to deter him from magic. All because Cetus’s father, not Odysseus’s, was killed managing a staged dragon escape. Whether because magic made Icthya sad now, or Morgan was their precious miracle, didn’t defend Odysseus’s crimes. An abuser is always an abuser. I owe him nothing. Cetus affirmed.
“Oh, a letter! Are you going to write back?” Delphia chirped.
“Yeah, but it’s from Morgan’s dad.”
“Oh.” Delphia murmered, sensing the tension. “Um, why is he reaching out? if you don’t mind sharing.”
“Planning your mundane paperwork celebration, to appease wizards and men with meaningless titles.” Cetus snorted, searching the junk drawer for a lighter. The letter deserved a proper send off.
“As someone legally trapped in this country, to help Morgan, I’m in favour of aiding Oddi. This is going to happen anyway, so we might as well make it safe. For instance, making sure Morgan doesn’t drink on his medication, or ensure I arrive in one piece. You should come if you don’t trust Oddi.”
“Come in one piece?”
“There are rangers sent by my cousin, Earl Kjatin, to make sure I don’t leave Pepperidge. My job is to make sure Morgan doesn’t leave, which means I can’t either.” Delphia shrunk. Cetus was taken aback by this news.
Delphia was sent to manipulate Morgan, while his True Love Emilia was gone; Putting a bad taste in everyone’s mouth, as she used her silver tongue to isolate him. Morgan was never even a threat, nor planned to leave Pepperidge. Realizing this, Delphia changed her tune, and became well rounded over the past year. People were still unkindly, but valued her life and dedication to Morgan.
Thus, stuck in Pepperidge, Delphia decided to make the most of her circumstances. She started shadowing Gemini. Delphia loved magic too much to stop aspiring after so many years of education. Delphia wanted to rise to the task of a town Witch; Diplomat of magic matters. Delphia had already taken the passivistic oath. By final year, Delphia understood that Morgan wasn’t a dangerous mage of royal blood. He was a shy history nut, who liked talking to fairies, wearing pink argyle dresses, and preferring hugs to swords. Delphia had become genuinely attached to Pepperidge. Her sentence, was now a labour of love.
Everything was going smoothly, and Delphia didn’t expect an arrow to shoot passed he face. She was supporting Morgan at the train station, while he saw off his school friends. The train station was on the edge of town. Delphia’s icy eyes went wide as they met another pair across the tracks, that vanished as an officer arrived. Morgan was unable to warm her chills.
That night, Delphia vacantly went about her evening routine. Emilia returned, taking Morgan’s attention. She could only dream of him dancing with her like that. After, Emilia reassured Delphia she was thankful she would be there for Morgan, while Emilia was gone on tours. But Delphia didn’t believe it. She simply agreed to babysit, wishing for her own child someday; Knowing Morgan had no interest in lust, nor her. She felt left behind, knowing she was nothing to Pepperidge; Especially when compared to Emilia.
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Bonus Illustration: Rosael (garden wildling), and Whistiaon (Calci Tree), In Icthya and Cetus’s childhood backyard magic garden.
Patrick Dawnhill decided to make a magic garden in his new family home. He knew by the Tower up the valley, that Pepperidge was a magic forest; which meant plenty of fey lived here. For those who can talk to fey, it meant Pepperidge was a bigger community then it looked, and there are far more potential friends around every corner.
To have his garden the way he wanted it, he asked each magic plant he fancied in town, if they would like to be his friend and live in his garden. Soon, Patrick had a big, cozy and loving magic garden. It even attracted a lone garden wildling called Rosa; who would wander in and out of the garden to help it grow, and play with Patrick’s children; Cetus and Icthya.
His garden would provided a sanctuary for the tree children in it, and good company for him, his wife, his children, and the grandchildren he did not live to see.
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Tale 26: The Haunting Acre (6/6)
26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 6 - Ye Grass ov Greene 6/6) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests
Icthya awoke in the vacant dinning hall; Perhaps the liquor had made her dream. She felt so tiered. Icthya staggered out of the hall, and latched it tight, then turned to see the well. There was a lady, with white hair tied back in a knot, wearing pearls and kohl. Her fairness matched her flowing periwinkle gown. She laced a bronze chain between her fingers, holding an hourglass over the well. A person! Icthya gasped. She ran to meet the maiden, if only just to exchange words.
“Welcome to Kendal & Saxon, may I ask your name?” Icthya gleamed.
“I am Raven Queen Odette,” She responded firmly. “I came to practice turning time. My mother did it once, and saved many lives; But I want to use it to restore the black tower for the Mage King, Morgan. It’s hard, because though I am imbued with one tenth of all magic, I cannot focus on this hourglass. It reminds me of my mother. The Shadow Veil’s magic, has made me forget time, but now I remember I’m the lost princess; And my mother died in my arms.”
“That is sad, I am sorry.” Icthya whispered. “So, you restored the acreage? If that’s the case, thank you; It’s perfect.”
“Yes. Odysseus opened and bonded to the gate of the well long ago. I stand over the well, as the veils are thinnest here; It helped me cast the spell. I hope it works in Pepperidge.”
“Pepperidge? You said this is for Morgan; Is this for my son?” Icthya continued. “He lives in the tower of Tiberius Gate with my brother. His happily ever after is in that magic forest. He’s a good mage, and couldn’t just let the tower fall; It has all his restored journals too.”
“Well, wizards where displeased when the maiden mundanely betrothed to Morgan fled. She is told to be a snake, that keeps your son in the forest he wishes nowhere else to be. She is stripped of her heritage, and trapped on this soil. That was once almost me. Morgan then abused his power to restore royal heirlooms, the silly goat.” Odette explained. “My want, is only to fix the tower by reversing it’s time. As royal Grand West blood, Morgan is my family in a way. I am here to practice on my cousin Eatheltwein’s home.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you.” Icthya said, walking closer. Odette then smiled, while looking at the tiny hourglass strung on the cradled chain.
“That reminds me; I missed Eatheltwein’s wedding. I miss my family. May I, as a princess of the west, come to your son’s wedding, for old time’s sake?”
“So, the legend is true; You’re the princess who fell for the Raven King, before you or your cousin could marry?” Icthya asked. Knowing old tales are true is a comfort. The restored surroundings and heirlooms were not an illusion or of malice, but the talents of her son and The Raven Queen.
“I nearly died of heartbreak when my parents died; And later my cousin,” Odette sighed. “But he was a mage who wished to visit me; Thus, he made a gate under his retirement home. In turn, my husband the Raven King, cursed every first-born son of house Cynedom to be a mage; So that they can visit me in the Shadow Veil. But none of them came.”
“None of them knew.”
“I see. That’s kind of funny.” Odette laughed. “I’m leaving, now that I know I can restore the tower. However, I still want to return for the wedding, if that’s ok.”
“YES!” Odysseus called from the cabin door. “We would love your company! You fixed our home, and it will cheer my boy. Any royal blood is welcome to such occasions, Odette.”
“Do you like grass? Your magic has dampened this place; Perhaps something pleasant might brighten your mood? You really should learn how to cast spells properly.” Odette scoffed. She disappeared into a plume of glitter smoke. She had return to the ether. Odysseus looked at his shoes; Traditional riding boots. He tapped his foot.
“Icthya, I’m sorry. Maybe when Morgan hugged me, after I quested for it, it created a dissonance. I am unworthy of his love, but he gives it. It doesn’t feel real.”
“Just earlier I felt a little like that. Me and the world feeling separate, I mean. But as I look around, I saw and felt so many wonderful things. It warded off your spell for a time.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t feel real to me; No matter the beauty. Only you, Helrund, and Crista, have stirred me.” Odysseus sighed. “But, there’s a phone in the house. It’s so odd. Right as emotion entered me, it appeared. Maybe I should tell Morgan I’m proud of him, and apologize for betrothing and hurting him, and-”
“I don’t think a phone alone, will make you accept the world; You need to believe it yourself.” Icthya encouraged. Her husband’s pessimism and gloom, was compelling her to help him. “Odette said grass! But everything here is that darn cursed clover…” Icthya said, taking her husband’s cold hands. Then she remembered something, and dragged Odysseus to the orchard.
The orchard grew pommes of Anglia’s legends. All sorts of apples, pears, figs, and berries. The trees crowding the soil, row on row. Each tree with a unique twist, and bower. Each with a voice, even those that are not fey. Odysseus touched them, and smelled their flowers. First the enchanted ones with sweet voices, then the real ones that unnerved him. To his surprise, they weren’t statues or specters.
Icthya had worked the land of the orchard clean, and thus it resisted the clover’s haste. Odysseus, seeing grass, buried his fingers into it. Green, the colour of his kingdom. It smelled fresh, moist, and earthy, yet sour. It was plush and inviting, as some blades escaped through his fingers. It was cold, but not fridged. The dew chilling his knees, as it dampened his jeans. The grass made Odysseus sad. It made him happy. It made him remember running upon it as a child. Staining his clothes, and always in need of mowing. It feels like a cold ache and racing heart. Tormenting, and demanding attention. It felt like being alive; This is what real felt like.
When Odysseus looked up, his face covered in tears. He saw the face of his radiant wife; In gardening clothes, and smelling faintly of spiced liquor. Icthya smiled at him; Adorned in work clothes, and smelling of hey. Odysseus concentrated on knowing the garden was alive. With each second, Icthya and Odysseus slowly heard laughter, voices, and birds. The light was warm and glowing. From behind, they heard a voice call:
“There you two are! We need help with the chickens! They got out! This place has been renovated to its original condition, like from olden times. And chickens know of old things...” A farm hand said. Those where precious heritage bred chickens; and they attracted foxes this time of year. Odysseus jumped up, and dashed to the coops. Once there, he found the teacher, who worked with visiting children. She was also chasing poultry. It made Odysseus wonder if what Odette said was true.
“Was there always a black well, with a nymph, in the courtyard?” Odysseus asked.
“Yes, why? We have a lot of art and books depicting it. You want to see?” She asked.
“No. I’m good. Just checking.” Odysseus said. Then he noticed a chicken, of spotted chocolate and white by the treeline. It was resting like a dinner roll on the leaf litter. Odysseus silently and slowly approached the hen. A grin on his face. Sometimes, he would let them loose for fun after fox hunting. He picked up the plump pheasant confidently, and gleamed proudly. Looking to the horizon, through the holt, he saw wheat in the neighboring fields. The fog had lifted. Beneath his feet was leaves and spring moss. Wild flowers taking any spot of sunshine. The driads loafed in the olives. Not a darn clover in sight. He would embrace his son again, and he could hardly wait.
Tales of Ealden Cynedom,
Finished
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Icthya in some fine restored old court dress; The garden is where her heart grows.
26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 5 - Ye Weif of Lit 5/6) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests
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A pale lady, wearing nothing but an undone glittering grey lace gown, looked up at Odysseus from the bottom of the deep well. Her eyes ere of clear water, and raven hair like pitch. She was no human; This was a naiad. I should’ve suspected so, Odysseus thought.
“I bring biscuits; I will lower them with the pale, if you let me have clean water.”
“Why thank you fair mage of healing; Master of the love magics. I require no fee for the water of the earth I clean; But I thank you none the less.” She said sweetly. Down the pail went, with a clunk, and slide of the rope. Though Odysseus’s hands are rough from work, the pail descended softly. Icthya hummed happily, feeling blessed it was the kindest of fey. Hand after hand, Odysseus lowered his vessel, as Icthya’s song leaked into the well. The bottom sparkling such, that Odysseus slowly wished he could touch it. It’s center drawing him past the nymph, and toward the base of the aquafer.
“What is it you stand upon?” Odysseus called, leaning in.
“The center of a gate to home; The Shadow Veil.” The naiad said. She gently grabbed the pale, ate the cookies, and began to fill it.
“This acreage has been owned, and worked, by the royal family since founding; And never have tales of this pasture being a magic forest, been told from fathers to sons. I don’t even recall this well, nor it having a nymph.”
“It has always been here; It’s always surprising what people get used too, when they see it every day.” She giggled. “Believe me or not, you’re of house Cyendom, and thus this gates keeper. It is a sweet tale: Eatheltwein, admiring his aunt, Mage Queen Meriam, wished to be near the ether hiding his lost cousin. He wanted his retirement to remain full of wonder and family.”
“I do not believe you,” Odysseus snarled. “Let me down, to see if this gate is open; I wish to visit The Shadow Veil, to confirm your claims. Tiberius Gate, where my son lives, is accessible through there; I must see if he is well!”
“No.” The naiad said. “If you do, I will poison the water for miles.”
The bath was heated by Odysseus’s summoned joy fire. Yet he did not feel joy in the presence of the jubilant sunny flares. He breathed it into being somehow. How does my mind know how to conjure elements? Odysseus though, stepping into the bath. I have no magic training. Maybe, if I’m a mage as the fey say, these things come naturally to me.
The tub was deep, wide, long, and carved of mainland black marble. Ghostly white veins throughout. Yet, the warmth of the water, as Odysseus soaked with his wife, made his mind ease and wonder: A mage. One who has white marks, pale hair, and heals with love; I remember hearing that once. I’m a mage as Eatheltwein and my son; I wonder if my father was as well? The dark magics of old, hiding in plain sight, like we kings. None of us caring much for the mythical either. Odysseus mused. It had been a long time since he wondered such things. The result was that, though water was pure as promised by the naiad, Odysseus did not feel clean.
“I didn’t know I was a mage, like you didn’t suspect I was a king. I only found out after rescuing Helrund, and trying to see our son again. How can an entire linage, be cursed with such prohibited power, and never know?” Odysseus whispered, in the silent room. “Perhaps we were lucky not to know. Such secrets could have us murdered.”
“Perhaps people choose not to know. It’s strange the legends we pick to believe.” Icthya said.
“But legends are real here.”
“Yes. And I love it.” Icthya smiled.
“I forget to love. Or I am in so deep I fail to recognize it as well.”
“Do you choose not to recognize things? Your mind I mean; Subconsciously swaddling itself.”
“Missing my son alone, can’t cause me to make a waking dream. This pull back in time is not my doing, and this mist is not something I am incapable of summoning. I’m an untrained mage.”
“So, you suspect the Beast Kings of Fey caused this place to become stale? Or maybe our son, who has no ill will, has done this?” Icthya said. Odysseus had instinctively lit fires before her; She had no doubt he played a part.
“Never; He has every right to hate me, but he is not one to abuse magic. We have already made peace with him; Like a distant vague noise, I recall embracing our boy as I once wished, and healing him. But sharp in my veins, is the harsh horror that I have fruitlessly tried to beat magic from his bones. Breaking his bones, and our family. Still, he would send us off here, rather then wish us ill. I am proud. I am unworthy.”
“So dreary, for someone now so sweet; You vowed to never harm again. We have changed these three years,” Icthya said, splashing water into Odysseus face. She had a sense of play. Time had healed such wounds in her heart. She hoped soon Odysseus’s would too. “I know your resolve wasn’t recognized immediately, but Morgan will see it one day. There is no need to wallow over a lesser version of yourself. We will feel our precious son’s embrace someday; And I don’t know about you, but I can hardly wait.” She smiled.
“But the clover grows, Icthya. Something has died inside me. I do not believe I can change, though I try.”
“Clover? Now there’s a tall tale! I always thought clover was pretty and soft.” Icthya said. “Representing memories of those passed, that now live within us. It’s strange and prominent; But also, a weed. Clover needs no omen to grow where it pleases.” She explained. I fear my husband has gone mad from regret. He no longer wants forgiveness or moving forward; He no longer wants what is real. Icthya thought. Her eyes met his, and they saw each other as the enchanted mirrors saw them: Younger, unchanged, and eerie. Somehow pleasant. But mostly untouchably fake.
On the fifth day, Odysseus awoke to his wife wilting by his side. Though Odysseus’s love for Icthya had kept her with him this long, such healing spells weren’t enough. Icthya was worn from pushing away the unsettling lighting, dim halls, and encroaching clover. It saddened Odysseus, and he slipped out the towering curtains of their bed. Is this my fault? He thought, reflecting on their bath. In the trunk at their foot board, Odysseus found his modern clothes, and adorned them. Good denim jeans, and a flannel over a white under shirt; Clothes he could get dirty in. Instead of making breakfast, Odysseus went to feed the chickens, who had slowly cropped up. Still no people, however.
Odysseus had assimilated into the hauntingly vacant acre; Odysseus had become used to his foggy abode. With nothing to lose, it occurred to Odysseus that he should call for someone. He yelled across the pastures, orchards, and surrounding fog. hoping someone would call back. Without any response, Odysseus sighed, and went back to the barn; behold, it once again held his horses.
Icthya started tending the garden, after drinking spice wine for her meal. She had tiered of bread and pottage. Icthya swore she’d never eat another fruit and clove roast duck again. The sweet onions where good though; Even while weak, Icthya planted more of those. The Anglian soil magically grew almost year-round. Icthya could grow anything between her talent and the rich earth of this isle. She tended every rose, berry, mandrake, and golden apple. The garden is where her heart grows. Like a beacon, she perceived a pale golden light. Icthya held her hand up, to be certain it had the warmth of sun. Why, with each day she perceived more colour when she worked the fertile yard. But, whenever she looked away, the fog closed and the well echoed; Pulling her further away from salvation. As Odysseus had warned, the clover encroached onto every path of grass, and between every cobble. Assuming the light and weeds were the effects of wine, Icthya retired to the amber dinning hall, where her husband would not look.
The smell of cedar, and ware on the wood. Each beam a tree, each chair a horse. The tables arranged in an open square, with the black marble throne, gilded with graphons. Only here, was the wood vibrant. The innumerable candles and windowed roof made the room glow gold. It should have held many people, eating their first meal of the day. But it was sadly empty. Icthya found herself missing human conversation. She examined her coveralls, that were smattered with soil. Icthya finished her wine in solitude.
Odysseus tended his steads, for he had many. One was his fathers, another his sisters. One was for his son, another his wife, and five for the knights. But Cristanine was his. Ten in total. Immaculately cared for. They had healed and carried many common-folk. Each with a personality, and a special place in their breast for the king who tended them. Odysseus groomed some, then started to ride. He led them to pasture, and soon noticed the clover. He heeled them back to their oats, lest one get poisoned. The ominous weed was attempting to crowd out any source of happiness. Crista nuzzled Odysseus, and said he’d watch the horses while Odysseus ate in the cabin.
Odysseus headed back for bread, and soon felt the bubbling of unfathomable dread. It came from no where, and radiated from deep within. Sired by no thought or action. In panic, Odysseus’s gaze began to scatter; the less he saw, the less it seemed unreal. The room spun, and cycled from dull to welcoming and bright. When the near vertigo stopped, and Odysseus heart pounded, He looked to the kitchen doorway. Something obscure was on the wall; A telephone, corded and blue. He dashed to its dial, not knowing who to call. Out of all things, this anachronistic apperated object was tangible.
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#art#tales of ealdan cynedom#fantasy#short stories#story 26#icthya#odysseus#morgan#crista#helrund#naiad
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Tale 26: The Haunting Acre (4/6)
26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 4 - Ye Eard ov Rad 4/6) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests
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Another quiet evening as Odysseus wandered the grounds. The ranch was restored to its original form; Even Odysseus appeared like a lord of old. He needed the misty air to ease his mind. The haunting dimness of his own royal cabin, was filled with the endless shadow of a cedar thicket. The walls now only held paintings of the ranch, and seemed like they were presently occurring, instead of smothered memories. Clear bright colours, animals, and people. But Odysseus could do little but stare at them, as his wife urged him to join her for rest.
Icthya embraced the surroundings; Playfully indulging this dream, while waiting for reality to resume. To her, it was a desperately stormy night, where she hid behind the bed’s shawl in her queenly gowns. Icthya was no longer under any desensitizing spells. The aura of shade and mist were weaning to her. She slowly recognized everything, and was bewildered by its replenished beauty.
This was indeed their home. But the appearance was achieved with mystic means. While Odysseus returned to roaming his inherited land, looking for something he did not know, Icthya looked at every object around her; And noticed small runes or little tags. She had seen these objects before; But not here. Not in her house. Soon, even legendary weapons and books, that were once worn, appeared around the house fully restored; Yet, they disappeared by dawn. The walls between settled silent halls, no longer containing memories of tears for her father and son. It was as if the house was cleansed, and shone like olivine, if only the sun would light it.
The grounds were grim, but Odysseus felt no fear. Feeling cold was but a memory of a shiver. Only his shallow strained breath, indicated his response to the night. His mannerisms implied he invited death, if it waited for him in the twilight. But no. Only raven fey sleeping about; More appearing each hour. Made of magic, they felt like avian spirits; Like tapestries or stories that are alive. Odysseus suspected he was wandering a myth he didn’t belong in, until he saw his hands. Those white marks, like ribbons around his wrists, indicating his heart alone could heal. His palms weak, and reminding him of what he once grasped.
The fey endeared Odysseus and his wife. Such wonders didn’t comfort them like it did their son. Mythical beasts now caused Odysseus to chill his heart, as much as it enticed. It made Odysseus softly, and silently, search along familiar structures. He opened every door: The classroom, library, coop, pen, and other cabins. Even the waist high stone wall, about the homestead, seemed new but of old. Not a person in sight. Only obscuring mist across the windless fields. The paths of dirt, teal forest, and mossy grass as littered with fallen trees and clover. Clover; Have I buried something? Is that why I search? For my son, or perhaps myself? This place is so empty without… Odysseus thought, looking into the small white and wine flowers.
Clover only grows on graves, in the tales Grand West children are told. Like red, the colour of blood. The opposite of green. Thus, the opposite of what makes up their nation. Green is of The Grand West of Anglia: From pears, to fields, to the eyes of its people. Bright grass, verdant dyes of olive and absinth. Rich ochers of yellow, mustard, tan and gold, upon the heads of the people of summer. Pure, temperate, giving, and precious. The colours of wealth and fertility. Free; Free like the phoenixes, three-legged crow, and roc. The regal gryphons, Stymphalian birds, and golden geese. Odysseus had been groomed to believe, and see, nothing else. As a man of royal blood, he kept the oaths of his ancestors; Never leave these lands, lest ye be buried, and break the hearts of those dear. Never take power over the people, who no longer have need of mages and absolute rule. Who are we to pick and choose the fates of others?
An echo. Chiming from the black well, with an ominous aura. The thing Odysseus refrained from inspecting. The dripping of water, and now sweet humming. How odd it is to finally hear something that I am so certain has sounded, Odysseus thought. For days all he heard was his breathing, steps, heart beat, and wife. But the well felt so real, and it drew Odysseus to its depths. He knew he could touch it, but felt it’s curse. It summoned him. Maybe tomorrow, he would look inside; Draw water for a bath, in his large black marble tub. For him and Icthya to warm their weary bones. Odysseus became curious under his shivering spine. What was that sweet echo, that rang up from that pit?
As dawn approached, Odysseus rode Crista around his lot, to see if even a little fog had lifted. He started to yearn for the sun. But the spell around him was so calm. It soothed him, and smothered his grief. It made Odysseus never want to leave; The beam of sunlight no longer worth it’s burn without their child. Icthya and Odysseus began to no longer desire reaching through a picture, to see what was real, whilst knowing it all a dream they would wake from.
In a greying blue room for tea, Odysseus put biscuits in his pocketed sleeves. His garbs, once red, were now black velvets, embraided with scarlet beads about the cuffs, trim and neck. Unlike Icthya, Odysseus never remembered getting dressed. But Icthya could never forget her husband picking her dresses each day.
“I know these clothes. They are from the museum within the old castle!” Icthya giggled. “The first royal home. I remember them being faded, shattering, scratched and stained; But look! They are as new. I feel like a queen, from corset to coat. What magic do you suppose casted such charms?” Icthya cheered. She twirled in the velvet dress of nearly black pine, and chartreuse silk trim. As she turned, it dawned on her; A memory of her son, whom she never knew could be a prince. A countryside ranch so unassuming, not even the wife of a king could connect the dots. It’s as if the last king’s ploy had worked too well.
“Odysseus, I know something might be able to restore so many treasures: Our son is a master of bringing the faded back to light.” Icthya proposed. It does seem like something my boy, Morgan, would love to do. If he could enchant the treasures of our kingdom, he wouldn’t say no. It is his favourite pastime. Odysseus mused. It is his finest talent. For only a second, his body perceived warmth from within.
Morgan had such a love of history and magic, Odysseus and Icthya could not pry it from his hands. Not violence, bribe, nor threat, could pull the boy from his destiny. It made Morgan a master Seer of magics of old. As prince, if Morgan knew it, he would inherit the royal treasures presented before the public; Thus, he had every right to expertly restore all of it, if he wished. In fact, it seemed emanate. Every robe, painting, blade, and book, would be polished once passed through his mage hands. Their sweet boy may be able to restore objects, but he is too far away to enchant the whole homestead. Such a thing is beyond even his powerful scope. He was not someone to hex land either. Morgan harbored no rage towards his father from being beaten and denied his dreams; Yet, he hadn’t forgiven Odysseus either.
Odysseus went to the well, to draw water for a bath. Icthya waited, and glistening like the dewy roses, upon the steps of their emerald cabin. Fog forming from her breath in the damp spring mourning. She was also curious about the foreboding aquafers chime. With a vase crafted to hold endless water, and a hemp rope from the stable, Odysseus prepared the draw water.
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Odysseus, In royal green robes; digital painting, that proved that green can also strain an artists eyes.
26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 3 - Ye Mann ov Gyld 3/5) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests
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For diner, Odysseus caught rabbits, and Icthya found flour and fruit in the cellar. The vast basement was dim, and made of cold stone. There were wheels of cheese, bags of grain, jars of sugar, and small boxes of spices. On shelves holding honey, eggs, butter, and bread; All curiously fresh. A row of jams, and rack of spiced pear wine, upon sturdy old wooden shelves. Something was eerie, but also comforting about the tight candle lit space. The food nearly glowed. All remanent of times long past. The preserves and flour gave Icthya a curious desire. She didn’t know how to bake bread, but she could certainly make her mother’s cookies. Soft sweet sugar cookies, with candied fruit, or impressions filled with jam. Icthya remembered that her son loved to make them too. Maybe making them, might make it feel like their son was there.
As night fell, the house got darker. The green walls faded to black, and lamp blew itself out. Magic was afoot, but Odysseus did not know what kind. He had never learned magic. Yet, it’s consuming and encroaching shadow smothered him. The enchanted had always been so bewitchingly vibrant, and aloof before. The two, husband and wife, lay warmly in a luxurious bed, in silk gowns gathered and soft. Just threw the curtain, as the last light dimmed, Odysseus saw a shimmer off the chair of ravens; A full set of kingly robes, shimmered in the hues of marigold and tourmaline. He had also seen these before; But sleep took him before he could recall.
In the mourning, there was ham, eggs and buttered bread. The empty chilled cabin, slowly starting to dissipate. The hum of rain as soothing, as the battering of a storm upon the roof was barely audible. Icthya and Odysseus laughed over meandering conversation. But then down the hall, ringing through every arch and wall, was the sound of a bell, loud and dull. The echo of old brass, hummed through the farm; Which once again had goats, horses, and fey about. Perhaps it was a person, or fairy playing games; Bringing news of good or ill to their prison.
Odysseus scrambled, adorned in furs and velvet reds, down the hall to the front door. As his hand neared the hatch, he froze. Odysseus feared, that he misheard, and it was nothing at all. A second time, the bell rang, and hardy blows met the door. Odysseus finally lifted the latch, and peered out. A rush of mossy air rushed in, and the ambiance of rain settled. The fog seemed nearer, and the trees whispered.
Odysseus stood in the doorway, in new clothes; He was in a robe, coat, and hose of golds and apple greens. He shimmered, as light glistened off his hair, which now cushioned the gold and peridot crown. Behind him, the house was a black smudge, and around him dulled hues; But Odysseus, he shone like a fey in the desaturated Shadow Veil, that homes all magic. No sun in sight, it took him by surprise until he noticed an equally unsettling specter. A man in layers of wool, coloured each shade of the autumn; most impressive, was his thick woven ochre cloak, with cowl deep, with slits for his arms. He held out a lit lantern, and his presence was still. Before Odysseus, he bowed.
“Oh, King of Anglia, I come with a due; The duchess of Peak Suna, wishes to wed your eldest son.” The man said, in a graveled voice.
“I am no king, and I have committed a crime against my son; Who is no longer here. Furthermore, The Kings of Anglia are now tales for bedtimes.”
“Do you decline this bride, offered to prince Eathelstan? To be his friend till death?” The man insisted. “But again, you wear red and clover; Who do you mourn? Is the prince late as they gossip?”
“Prince Eathelstan was the son of The Last King; I am but a suspected ancestor. This promised dame, is to a boy who died of sickness before our time.” Odysseus said, with creeping doubt of his son’s well being. Surrounded by the warp of time, and adorned in the glow of a lord who founded this acre, Odysseus was assuming a role.
“So, the house of Cynedom has fallen, and this land has no prince?”
“NO! No. No, my son is across the isle; With a true love. He protects a magic forest, in a tall black tower. He is happily away from me, and restores the records of old magic.” Odysseus rambled, comforting himself.
“If Anglia has a prince, he will wed our lady. True love is of magic, but this union is of common men. I hear the maiden your prince holds, may leave his side; Do you not want your son to have a partner to hold him in her absence? Do you disregard the promise of your son’s hand, to a land of Dania? Is leavening the rule to lesser men, the only promise you keep; Though it is just as easily broken?” The man grumbled. Odysseus was taken over. His gentle son, who he could no longer grasp, and had beaten for dreaming, was now broken without his true love. So fragile his only child, being such a soft spirit; The thought of him suffering, squeezed the air from Odysseus’s lungs. How he loved something he thought made of glass, treated like iron, hid from the world, but let shatter.
“Yes! Yes, they will wed under mundane law; Anglia keeps its word to Dania. Please let this lady help my son feel warm! As tradition, strip her of home, and bath her before she spends a year’s time walking beside my beloved only heir. By the following harvest, they wed upon the ground of this royal abode.”
“The folk of magic, and these restored structures, will be glad to see it! We will send her swiftly to his side.” He chuckled. “I had heard the royal ranch of Saxon & Kendal, had been turned into a petting zoo. But behold! It is like walking into a time before wizards and wars.” The man slowly turned, and walked into the fog. Odysseus stood looking into the haze obscuring pure light. He no longer glowed, but was in his plain red clothes and pelts once more. The man had vanished, and what remained, was the black marble well.
“That well is beyond cursed, old friend.” A boy’s voice said. “Oh, and your son will be livid to hear you promised him. Is it even possible to anger a mage? Look at you droop like a pathetic neglected daisy. You must join me for ale! Maybe your maiden will come to comfort, and I can watch?” It taunted. To Odysseus side, stood Helrundel, a prairie wilding whom he recalled rescuing, and reminded him of his son. The fairy felt more tangible than the cups he drank from. Helrund’s ambiance enticed him, until he examined the fairy’s words.
“No, you may not be a voyeur; I recall your uncouth ways, underneath your childlike appearance,” Odysseus recoiled. Helrund gave a genuine smile. “However, Helrund, do you know what’s going on? Is this real? I feel shame and emptiness, and I want it to leave me!” Odysseus whimpered.
“You say that like I care. I’m a fairy; A feral boy. I play in fields that feed me bread, to make crops bountiful. I care little for time, or what is real. You also shouldn’t care what should, and what shouldn’t. Besides, it’s too late to retract that sort of betrothal. Your impulsivity is relatable.”
“That isn’t helpful Helrund. I only wish to stop neglecting my son, and now I’ve gone and imposed on him again! I may see him in a year, when the order expires on his birthday; What if he hates me like you claim? What if this pushes him over the edge? I have fear. That man made my heart swear I had buried a child.” Odysseus cried. Feeling the chill of damp air, he grasped his furs, and walked into the dark house, his face soaked in tears, holding Helrund’s tiny hand.
“Odysseus, you’re a fucking fool. This is a ruse, and your son is fine.” Helrund scoffed. Odysseus glazed over, unable to receive Helrund’s words. He staggered down to the kitchen, as the creek of the floor echoed up the walls. Holding a fairy’s hand, felt like holding his sons. Such a bitter sensation after what had passed. Odysseus wondered if he was searching for a tangible memory. He felt as a ghost, yearning for something before it can cease haunting a home. He began itching for an escape from his dreamlike state.
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#art#tales of ealdan cynedom#digital painting#fantasy#story 26#odysseus#icthya#morgan#helrund#short stories#delphia
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Odysseus riding Christanine: The original is gifted to my grandmother, who has always loved horses dearly.
26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 2 - Ye Has ov Blu 2/5) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests
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The kettle was old iron, that did not sing. The bubbling of the water was soothing, making Odysseus was entranced while peering in from the top. It looked fake, yet he knew it was real. Like a grainy old video, or ring of tinnitus. He poured it over the tea, and the half-steeped tea into ceramic cups. The steam was not warm, the object in his hand curiously strange. The only real thing Odysseus felt, and heard, was his breathing. Even Icthya seemed to fair to be of this world.
“Who lit the fire?” Icthya whispered. Her quiet tone almost a yell in such a vacant room. She had drifted into the kitchen, drawn to its warmth within the fridge house.
“It was lit when I came here. It boiled the kettle,” Odysseus murmured, staring into his glossy tea, which almost starred back. “Icthya, I think it’s burning, but the flame’s not really there.”
“No, Oddie. I’m pretty sure the fire is real.” Icthya said, looking into it. Icthya drank her tea; It tasted like nothing. She wondered if she liked tea. They sat in perfect silence. The only light coming from the stove’s hearth; Reflecting on the olive tiled walls. All the wood and stone fixtures were an eternal onyx, but the curtains and dishes where of golden ochre.
After tea, Odysseus clung to his candle and his ruby clover coat. He adorned himself in rich deep clothing, from when Anglia was young. Yet, he still felt bare. Odysseus found them in a black trunk; Old, but brand new. The cold air, now felt of nothing. The abyss of the ceiling, above emerald stained wooden walls, curiously holding pictures. Odysseus’s steps were silent. It was like an unoccupied gallery, where one shouldn’t be.
The paintings were of kings of old. One of teal and sun, pink and clover, and another of sage and fruit. Also, a tapestry of five knights: One of white, red, green, yellow, and lastly one of blue. Odysseus had forgotten his reasoning for wandering the narrow hall. He held his candle, and vacantly stood at each portrait. Odysseus had seen these painting before. At the museum. He wanted to revisit them, as he remembered liking them; But now before them, he felt something small he can’t explain. The husk of what may have once been awe, for each brush stroke and bright colour. Hoping to feel that suffocation again, he stood there for what he assumed was eternity, before looking to his side. Deciding weather, he should keep looking at the piece, turn back to another painting, or go on his way. But the door to the yard was curiously ajar. The large stead of white and black stood calmly in the verdant soaked pasture. Odysseus felt his heart race: ‘Where is my wife?’ He feared.
Icthya walked into what she once called the common room. She thought it was pink, and full of old homestead furniture. But this room was tall, dusty and dim. Its walls faded powder blue, and furniture fancy, laced, brocade and pearled. Paintings hung, and a chandelier chiming above. Trims of gold, and tall windows providing grey light. There was a cradle, a table set for tea, and a wardrobe full of fine frocks. This room had a feeling different from the others. It felt like curiosity. Like the faded memory of comfort, laughter and joy. Icthya saw her husband, standing beside a hidden door. He looked into a mosaic of frames, in a trance. She joined him. Odysseus starred into a painting of a rodeo ring; A boy sat on a bull, ready to buck once free. He could hear the announcements, crowd, and his father’s voice. He could feel heat, smell leather, and fear. Odysseus somehow remembered it faintly, but had doubt if it ever happened.
“I think that’s me. Father made me cling to a bull, to prove I’d prefer throwing goats and ride magic horses, over learning swords and scrolls.” Odysseus pointed. He held his hand out, but not so close as to set off an alarm, he thought might be there.
“Look at this one. It’s a girl with her brother, in their father’s garden. I feel I should know it, as it’s so clear. Are these photos, memories, or painting you suppose?” Icthya asked. She shivered, and leant against her husband. Icthya welcoming his comforting scent of bergamot and straw.
Icthya found within the blue wardrobe, a dress of grass green. Of shinny satin, dazzling gold trim, proper shift, stays, and coats. She sat in the silence, and twisted her hair back in place. Held it with a broach that was a golden phoenix clutching green amber. Icthya powdered her face, for a reason she did not know, and looked in the mirror, and slowly exhaled. No matter the outfit or mirror, Icthya failed to recognize herself here.
Icthya slowly walked down the front path. A well in the middle of the courtyard, as hedged by roses she remembered. She bred them special, and lovingly planted them. The dew of each pink petal, brought the main yard to sparkling life; Of which only Icthya could see. That’s right, I planted these; I used to garden. I like to garden just as my father, she thought. As Icthya nearly felt her hands as her own, the black stone well caught her attention. It echoed of a noise she didn’t know.
Odysseus had wandered out the back doors. The cabin was smaller from the outside, but the ranch seemed bigger than he recalled. He still couldn’t see past the fog, which shrouded beyond the stables. He walked slowly to the horse, in air as quiet and sweet as autumn’s dawn. No birds, nor people, just the slosh of his boots as he cautiously stepped towards the stead, that also seemed not of the world. Odysseus wine clover coat, was getting muddy at the hem. The rich red, making him a beacon against the plush outdoors.
“Hello?” Odysseus whispered, as he stroked the withers of the magnificent Shire. It was in full royal tack, and nudged Odysseus softly. The smell and breath of the equine, was one of Odysseus’s joys in life. But he didn’t feel joy, he felt confused.
“Hala, min Odysseus.” The horse spoke. “Ye rod her wið me frind, yet yɛ’ won wið þe myst.”
“Oh. Cristanine.” Odysseus said, recalling this fey. “You’re the magic stead I always wanted, and found on my journey to hug my son; A wild war horse. You feel like the only living thing for miles. Not even the chickadees chime. Yet, you are only of magic. I feel a lot of magic here. Am I in an enchanted sleep? May I ride you to the boarders of the fog, to see where I stand?” Odysseus asked. Crista nodded, and Odysseus climbed into the western saddle. The gentle rock of each of Cristanine’s steps soothed his bones; From atop this mythical beast, Odysseus could see for miles. But he saw nothing. No matter the distance they tread, or surrounding forest they wandered, Crista was unable to leave the heavy fog.
“You are fey, and know of spells; Why can’t we leave? What enchantment is on my precious inheritance? Why are we in another time?”
“Anoþer tym, we be nat. þe ham be restored, but þis kwiet is yorse.” Christa responded. He continued to heavily clomp down the bluff, back to the barns. At his doorstep, Odysseus saw his wife. Ichtya looked bewitched in joy at the withered gardens, facing away from the old well. As Odysseus and Crista slowly passed it, Odysseus’s eye met this pit. It resonated, and finally gave him an emotion that lingered; intrusive unease.
In the stables of fine wood, with eaves carved of flicker and finch, Odysseus dismounted Crista, and took off the tack. Lovingly he provided a blanket, gave water and oats, while gently tying the rope. He didn’t question why all the supplies where already there. The stable was large, and still. It was warm and painted gold and chestnut. The feint smell of horses, permeated the walls, and Odysseys stood at the doors; Looking into the vacant pens without care. From behind, Icthya hugged him. Her green dress now dirtied. She seemed loud in the silence, and her soft touch, for a second, felt real.
“I was in the gardens I planted before we left. Each petal in place. A mix of flora form earth and fey; It reminded me of my late father, my brother, and some far-off place. The dew on the roses, and smell of king’s-lace; It’s a sweetness I love and could taste. This place is more magical than my heart can recall. I love it Oddie; I Wish our son was with me, his heart only beating for the wonderous.” She sighed. Then it slowly dawned on Icthya’s broken soul; This is the happiness of magic she denied herself and her son. It was a part of her that was buried under tears, after losing her parents. How could something so beautiful, bring such pain.
“I wish our boy could see this place with us.” Odysseus said. “Though, perhaps not in it’s dreary state.”
The barn doors creaked and latched, heavily and satisfyingly. Knights riding unicorns carved on these doors. He reached to touch them, but recoiled; Feared they’d be intangible. Odysseus walked his wife back inside, and they changed clothes. They stayed in the blue parlor, as it was the only room that held light. It was decorated from lamp to wall of like the Central North; Unlike the rest of the Grand West walls. This room must have been Queen Charlette’s. Odysseus mused. He had only seen her in paintings as a child. Charlette is always in light blue. She was in the books his father made him read, Odysseus made his own son read, and his own father once read. Though Odysseus’s little prince preferred these romantic passages more then himself.
“Who is that lady?” Icthya asked; Pointing to a dreamy portrait. It seemed ghostly and out of place.
“The Francian princess, Charlette, wed to the last king: Eatheltwein Cynedom. She loved blue. This might be the room made for her and their children.” Odysseus whispered. “She was written of kindly; I am glad to be her ancestor.”
“You’re royalty?” Icthya gasped.
“Do you not recall the traditional greens I wore to our wedding?”
“Am I a Queen, though I am only a mundane commoner? Does this make our fragile son a prince?”
“It no longer matters. The monarchy resigned itself to this ancient homestead long ago. I always told myself it was a wife’s tale.”
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The crown of The Grand West of Anglia, haunting our unlucky protagonist.
26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 1 - Ye Ham ov Grene 1/5) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests
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Odysseus awoke in a dark curtained bed. The sheets of teal satin, and its cushions of down. Quilts of jeweled wool, and framed with dark wood carved into ravens. The walls were dusty, and painted with green murals of holt and hunt. The windows contained dirty panes of glass held by iron. The silence was frightening; It felt as if all things had died. The smell of wet mulch, and old wood was in the air. The room lit dark, like an overcast dream; And Odysseus had no recollection of this place.
At Odysseus’s feet, was his sleeping wife Icthya. She wore a silk robe of cadmium and leaves; Upon her lap she gently held a small pair of shoes. her long caramel hair and freckles portrayed a Grand West woman, yet her soft sturdy build was of the Westlands just south the isle.
“Where are we?” Odysseus asked. “Last I remember, I was embracing my son with all my love. Then he turned me away, requesting we live in a forest of black, lit by fey.” Odysseus said under his breath. Icthya nodded as she sighed, still half asleep. The beautiful dreamer had not yet noticed her surroundings. She only felt light and cold, like a ghost in murky water. While her husband felt alone and frightened, she eased into the surroundings.
“I feel regret, again. Like I have failed as a parent, just as my own father. I beat a good boy I am proud to have sired, and left him on far shores.” Odysseus whispered. Icthya curled in her spot, and a tear ran down her face. Her ease was escaping. Odysseus got out of the smothering tall teal curtains, to find himself in only a wool coat of blood red, with white trim embroidered with clover. He knew this coat. He smelled it, and it smelled of hey. This is the royal coat of mourning.
The cold room consumed Odysseus, as he no longer had his wife in view. Odysseus gazed out the window, whose glass was thick. Outside was a wet green pasture, with a large horse of white and black. A heavy fog, blocked any view past the far fence. The pear trees not yet flowering. Odysseus, felt his heart pump, and breath steady; He felt himself know this place. On his right he looked into a tarnished mirror, to see a younger version of himself; Sage eyes and brass hair. Upon the mirror stand, was a smudged vase; Within a washing bowl glazed fair jade. The mirror was spotted black with tarnish, and its ebony frame worn from time. In its reflection, Odysseus saw an old chair of worn emerald velvet, and black wood ravens. Turning to his left, he saw an object that should have been out of place. A golden crown of four gryphons, set with vibrant peridots; Not scuffed, but aglow as if it were brand new. A chill ran through Odysseus’s bones.
“Icthya are you cold?”
“No,” she said from the curtain. “Our bed is always warm.”
“It can’t be our bed; You sold the house.”
“I did. To a man of fading amber hair, and sage eyes. He dressed in old Anglian clothes of green. I think I was so happy to be rid of these walls, that contain so much sadness.” She quivered. Her consciousness was bubbling, as she recalled what scars the cabin had, that made her sell it. Odysseus’s foggy mind stirred; The place did feel unsettling, as if it was once a place he roamed.
“But what if these are those walls? This place reminds me of my family ranch. The royal acreage where a king promised to retire; Relinquishing his power over the land. This place is my inheritance, it can’t be sold.” Odysseus wondered, running his hands across the illustrated cold walls, as he edged toward the glistening crown.
“Are you sure Oddie?” Icthya said. “This is far from a kingly abode.”
“Yes.” He replied, as he reached for the crown. But his hands went through it. It disappeared as if a wizard had summoned it away. A silent wind rushed against the cabin’s walls, echoing through its dark tall ceilings.
So mysterious was this place. It had been renovated for electricity, plumbing, and painted blue. Adorned with oil art of cows, men, and steads. Now the floors creaked, and Odysseus lurked the dim halls, of a familiar skeleton in its old flesh. Silently, he heard Icthya cry from their room, not five paces out the arced wooden door. He blew a candle to light; Not even knowing how he learned to do so. Then he noticed the white marks on his wrists. They made him sad. His hands, he hated them. Like they were used to heal, but had harmed. His throat tightened, as grief waved over him. Self loathing, that burned bright in the silence of the endless Charleston green halls. Then as sudden as it surfaced, it vanished. In a moment silence filled him again.
“Icthya, are you ok? I’m going to make us tea. I don’t want to investigate this place; I don’t want to see into the ether of this dream.” He called. Icthya still sobbed behind the curtains of layered jewel-toned gausses. Odysseus walked toward the veiled bed, to pull the tall fabric aside. Icthya wore a gold crown, gently jeweled in olivine, clutching the tiny shoes to her heart.
“They’re so small. I’m scared they will break, and I will never have another to hold.”
“We’re in a distorted version of our house. This is neither the Shadow Veil of magic, nor feels warm like the Day Veil of men. Like we’re in a painting or dream. An illusion spell, even. Something is amok, and you worry about a pair of shoes?”
“But they are his shoes, Oddie.” Icthya cried. Then she felt her body void of sensation; Petrified, by the consuming emptiness that came from nowhere. She looked at the walls, painted of pear trees, horses, birds, and hunters. She turned to the mirror, to see a younger version of herself; Glowing of sunshine. The dim light, and unnatural feeling of every object, piercing her chest. Everything was vivid, but she felt like a stranger to her face. She was watching herself clutching a pair of shoes, swearing it was her only child.
“What happened to us?” Icthya whispered.
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