It felt too ordinary a day for a funeral. Vadeen sat on his bed, looking out his window, loathing everything he sensed. He resented every pleasant flute from a bird, the wonderful cool breeze, and every smell of the budding season.
The season had barely begun, and this particular day seemed more akin to the middle of spring, reminding him of rebirth, renewal, rekindled energy, and life.
Lanad should have been alive to witness it.
"Diditō?"
Closing heavy eyelids, he slowly turned his head in his brother's direction. He then opened his eyes to stare listlessly at Abramu's form in the open doorway.
The many layers of cream and forest green funeral garb worn by their dynasty swallowed Abramu's athletic, lean frame. He wore a green hat atop his head bearing white and emerald jewels in its center, and he wore his hair in a tight braid with similar pearls at its end.
Seeing him in the garb only reminded Vadeen of what had happened and why he wore it, bringing a heavy, painful throb in his chest. With it came a wriggling within that made him twitch. He softly growled, a burn of red forming in his pupils.
Abramu's shoulders slightly fell, but he didn't enter. His hands were lost in the wide sleeves, and he reached to touch the door while looking away. "I'm...I'm sorry, Tō," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard. "You know we wouldn't do this if it wasn't—"
"Get out," Vadeen said, his voice low and worn from use. He clenched at the sheets atop his bed.
"Diditō—"
"GET OUT!" he roared, his vision overcome by red as he lunged off the bed.
He slammed to the floor midway to the doorway, the sound of chains resounding in his ears. Snarling, he glared back but couldn't see the jīntūdha chains around his ankles tethered to the wall behind his bed. Continuing to growl, he clawed at the floor in an attempt to crawl away, then held his head when it throbbed. He slowly went still as the medication in his system reacted to his condition, making him groan heavily and laboriously.
"Vadeen."
He whimpered upon hearing his mother's voice. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered.
Her heavy footsteps approached, and then she easily lifted him into her arms to place him back on his bed. Turning away and onto his side, he clenched his chest, unable to prevent the desire to rip and destroy and maim something—anything—from wriggling inside while also feeling unfathomable grief.
A hand brushed his slick hair out of his face. "Rest, Érsuko," she said softly, a familiar reassuring and maternal tone to her voice.
The word brought a flash of memory into his mind, one of spitting rage and tears. The announcement that Lanad had died was the last thing he recalled before he all but attacked the messenger. Brutally. Several of his cousins had to physically remove him from the room, and he didn't remember anything after that. There was only hurt, distress, and fury.
Hot, red fury.
His entire body began to tremble while tears promptly welled in his eyes. "M-Mokā," he breathed. He didn't get out anything else as red once more overtook his sight.
He emitted a pained scream, slamming a fist into the cushions. The scream rapidly evolved into a roar, and he rose from the bed with his body bent backward to howl. He barely felt the hot tears rolling down his face or the warm body that took him into an embrace.
Hands like talons at his sides, he tried to claw at something but the arms around his body were stronger. His attempts to move rapidly wore him out, and he slumped despite continuing to hiss and snarl.
"We'll be back soon, Érsuko," his mother whispered. "Sleep."
He didn't twitch when the needle went into his arm. Realizing someone else had entered the room with her, he jolted in her grasp, but his following growl withered as the tranquilizer's effect instantaneously overtook him.
His eyes had completely closed before someone placed him back in the bed.
----------------------------------------
Consciousness came slowly, rousing Vadeen from what felt like nothingness. He blinked and looked around, scanning his room with eyes that took forever to blink properly. Not even a lantern lit his room for the night. Unbothered by the darkness, he slowly moved upright and raised his leg, rested his arm on his knee, and stared at the bedsheets.
He didn't dream. Everything had been the pure blackness of unconsciousness. He didn't remember anything.
Swallowing, he shut his eyes.
Shameful.
He felt the familiar stinging of forming tears.
So fucking shameful.
"You are yourself again."
He rocked his jaw, unsure of what to say. Whenever he lost himself to his ira and mindlessness, the voice would go silent. Hearing it again indicated the spell had ended.
"Do not feel ashamed."
"I fucking lost control," he hissed, spitting the words. "I lost control in a way that has never happened before. I lost control, and it cost me my brother's funeral."
His lower lip trembled, and he raised his other leg to his chest before breaking into sobs. The voice remained quiet, leaving him alone in his misery.
The shame would not leave him. His family knew he went to the slums every week, a place considered demeaning for royalty to so much as visit, let alone that he partook in the underground matches.
But it made sense for him to go to KaicēTyū; where else could he go to unleash his potent bloodlust? Not even his mother could completely help him control his ira and she had struggled to control her own for hundreds of years. Though she no longer struggled, it had made her helping him difficult.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
He sat there in bed, crying, for an unclear amount of time. Once tired of hearing himself cry, he wiped his tears and lethargically moved the sheets off his legs. Standing from the bed, he felt his body's desire to stretch but denied it, hating it for being flawed and humiliating. No doubt his cousins and other family members thought even less of him than they already had.
With a sigh of dejection, he took a change of clothes from his dresser and headed to the washroom.
Fortune favored him that night when he saw the empty washroom. Normally, it had at least one person in it no matter the time of the day. He took a quick wash nonetheless.
While soaking in the water, he heard a croak behind him. He didn't turn around and kept his eyes closed, but he did break into a small smile when the raven flew into the room from the cracked-open window and landed on his shoulder.
It rubbed its head against him, and he sighed, comforted by its presence. "Thank you," he said softly.
A low coo came as its response.
After washing, he intended to return to his room to wallow some more. He decided to take the long way around to stretch his legs.
Walking beneath the canopy surrounding the Wasihl Orbital Palace, he looked towards the dark sky. He still felt lethargic, no doubt from the tranquilizer serum still in his system. He didn't want to know how much they had pumped into him, as it surely would have—should have—killed anyone else.
Huffing softly, he rubbed his arm, trying not to linger too much on why they tranquilized him, to begin with.
His raven softly croaked, and he rubbed its crown, leveling his head to stare across the court to see some of the Khalilf talking in a group. They were engrossed in conversation, moving slowly as they talked, and didn't seem to have noticed him yet.
Unprompted, the bird flew from his shoulder, and he watched it soar into the air to circle overhead. When he leveled his gaze again, he felt his heart skip a beat.
Several pairs of eyes looked in his direction, and while all of them glowed, not all of them were emerald; icy seafoam green and deep, menacing vermilion also stared his way.
Members of other dynasties were visiting.
Lowering his head, he turned and briskly continued his walk. His throat constricted, but his eyes remained dry.
Why are Rākhirahs here...?
He almost didn't want to know the answer.
Unfortunately, his mind wouldn't let the query be.
Is it because of what I did...? Or is it because of La—
One of his eyes twitched, and he unsteadily leaned against the wall at his left. Able to sense the gazes of the other Mahilasi boring holes into him, he gritted his teeth with a growl of self-admonishment.
Don't you fucking do it here...
His eyes shut, and he breathed with the skills his mother taught him.
Don't lose control here...!
"Vadeen?"
He startled, lifting his head with wide eyes. There, in the open doorway that he had been walking towards, stood the tall, dark figure of his mother looking out at him. If she hadn't spoken, he wouldn't even have known it was her; she wore her sarashi and baggy pants instead of her captain's coat, her waist-length hair unkempt, and a dull green glow burned behind her tousled locks. Even then, the kindred presence within her seemed to reach for and gently comfort him.
"Mokā," he murmured, moving off the wall with the intention to near her. He stopped mid-motion, and he rubbed his arm again while looking at the ground. "I...I'm sorry."
She approached him. He kept his gaze low in shame. She worked so hard, did so much for him.
Once close enough, she hugged him to her with one arm. He rested against her, his nose twitching. She smelt strongly of alcohol. Sniffing softly, trying to keep the tears in, he kept his head lowered when she slightly moved away. Doing so allowed him to see she held a large navy-black jug in her hand he hadn't noticed until then.
She raised it. "Join me?"
He nodded. She wrapped her free arm around his shoulder to lead him into the palace from the doorway she had stood in. She closed the doors behind them, but not before pausing upon seeing the group of Mahilasi further in the court. He wondered if she knew why other dynasty members were in their palace but remained quiet.
During their trek, they passed more members of their family. Vadeen only sensed them, as he continued to keep his head low for the second time. Whenever others came near, the burn of shame seared his insides. After a while, he became numb, staring aimlessly at the floor and counting their steps.
They walked down a shorter hall that led to her doors. Passing through, they entered a large, lit square room with plush seating on both sides of the floor. To the right, nestled in the plush, Abramu lightly snored as he slept.
Glad to see him, Vadeen approached and lowered. He also smelt of alcohol, and tears were drying on his face. Seeing them brought a sad smile to Vadeen's lips, and he gently ran his fingers through his older brother's long, loose locks.
Abramu slightly stirred, muttering incoherently, before going still again.
Vadeen turned around in time to see his mother move to sit on the other side of the room against the pillows. She sat beside a white plate with three large white cups atop it. Only then, in the brighter light of the room, did he finally see some of her expression.
Downcast eyes stared toward the floor as she poured some alcohol into two of the cups. Now that he could fully see the jug, he caught a glimpse of the label. It wasn't one of the alcohols from Jonjae-Bū, behra or baiju[1], but a much stronger kind. Bidhka, the most potent liquor on this side of the plane.
He remained quiet as he sat beside her in the plush, though he observed the little of her face he could make out. It didn't change even as she took her first drink, knocking it back with ease.
He took up his cup while she poured himself another. He raised a brow after inhaling the fumes. He was going to be blithering drunk soon, but that was the point, so he downed the liquid. To his surprise, despite its potent smell, it had a completely different taste. It was sweet.
He could drink a lot of this.
"Those bastards..."
Focusing, he let his mother pour him another cup.
She still didn't look at him. "They've finished their investigation of the bracket," she softly explained. "They confiscated his things...took confessions...confessions that are completely bullshit."
He frowned, but she continued.
"If I were anyone else, I'd give the entire bracket a fucking earful." She softly scoffed, bringing the cup to her mouth. "But...I can't. I just...can't."
"Why?"
She shook her head, opting to drink some more instead.
He waited until she had her fill, sipping from his cup while watching her.
After a moment, she lowered her cup and ran a hand through her hair with a deep exhale. Doing so completely revealed her face. She had been crying as well, and he became concerned when he saw the strong flush on her face.
"I..." She grasped her locks, taking another hard breath. "I did...What I did..."
He stiffened, the grasp on his cup tightening. There was no wriggling inside, not yet, but he was afraid of its return.
He had heard. Lanad would have been killed by extraction of the spirit, the worst form of execution a faifethi could face.
Instead, their mother killed him.
He couldn't be more thankful for that mercy.
A soft sound of distress reached his ears. "I'm sorry, Vadeen..."
Blinking rapidly, he focused back on her. She hid her face with both hands, and she softly sobbed.
For the first few seconds, he merely stared at her, unable to feel anything inside. "Mokā?"
"I had to. I had to."
He slowly nodded, his visage cracking.
"They would've..." She grasped her face. "Dammit, I had to."
Unsure of himself, he began to reach for her but hesitated. Only when she nearly began to claw at her face did he pull her hands away with surprising ease. "I'm...not mad, Mokā...How can I be? Abramu isn't either, right?"
She shook her head and looked away even when he brought her hands into his. "I..."
He scooted closer and hugged her, shutting his eyes as they rapidly welled with tears.
"I'm gonna fuckin' kill someone."
He nodded, sniffing as his tears fell.
"Whoever did this. Dōl-Rangī. I'll fucking murder them all," she growled, speaking between tightly clenched shark teeth.
He nodded again, then startled when she broke out into sobs once more. She suddenly wrapped an arm around his smaller frame and placed her free hand behind his head.
"My son," she softly whimpered, her voice wilted. "I'm sorry."
His eyes glazed over from a deluge of tears.
She wasn't apologizing to him.
His arms went limp.
And he screamed.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
[1] A potent alcohol with a strong kick.