VANYA
There were the stars, and there was the sky.
That is how the story starts. It always starts like that, Vanya can not remember a time when it didn’t. Each tale, whether it travelled along the lines of betrayal or war, or a cosy story with romance and other lands, it always starts like this.
( With the stars gone, Vanya guesses that no one starts it like that anymore. )
She mourns the loss of the twinkling particles that winked at them, but she doesn’t miss the souls in it. The souls that granted their wishes and butchered their people. The souls that thrived on tragedy, the fall of elves and the theft of the sun.
They were no gods to her. Beings who enjoyed the drip of blood and the tears of children were monsters, not gods.
The shouts and constant arguing from the streets fill her ears, ringing and like static, her own thoughts cut through–how are the gods deserving of such wars? The stupid queen’s anti-gods regime started this, and now all the fae who used to grow fruits for offerings have taken up swords and scythes, to hack everyone’s heads open.
She quietly scales the castle’s walls, her fingers finding purchase on the smooth stones. Her gaze scrutinises every nuance, and she finally reaches the window. She nudges it open and slips in.
Her job is simple. She has to find the crown and leave. She did wish she didn’t have to work for someone as clumsy as Arthur, but she needs the money.
( And this was a lovely opportunity to make the queen angry. Who would pass up that opportunity? )
She turns her gaze to the balcony, where the night sky awaits. A sky that once held countless stars, now empty and dark. A sky that once inspired wonder and awe, now filled with despair and sorrow. She wonders if the gods have abandoned them, or if they ever cared at all.
She moves silently across the room, avoiding the lavish furniture and the expensive paintings. She feels no envy or admiration for the wealth and power of the queen. She only feels contempt and resentment for the injustice and oppression she represents.
She peers through the glass doors, and sees the ballroom below. A ballroom that glitters with artificial light and false joy. A ballroom that dances to the tune of ignorance and apathy. She sees the people who have forgotten their roots, their history, their duty. She sees the people who have betrayed their own kind, their own world, their own destiny
The ballroom is a dazzling spectacle of light and colour. Chandeliers sparkle with crystal droplets, reflecting the glow of candles and lanterns. The floor is polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the elegant figures of the dancers. The music is lively and enchanting, filling the air with joy and excitement.
The dancers are dressed in their finest attire, adorned with jewels and silk. They move gracefully and skillfully, following the rhythm of the orchestra. They smile and laugh, exchanging compliments and flirtations. They seem oblivious to the world outside, immersed in their own happiness.
( What a terrible way to let their guard down. )
She locks eyes with a young man on the dance floor. A young man who stands out from the crowd, with his striking features and his confident posture. His hair is dark and tousled, framing his handsome face. His eyes are grey and piercing, reflecting the light of the chandeliers.
She recoils, and backs away from the glass doors. Vanya crouches as she starts to move quietly towards the queen’s room, guarded by two soldiers. She backs away once again, not sure how to face them.
One of the guards spot her. “Hey, girl! What are you doing here?”
She tries for a sweet smile. “Me? I’m just a…” her mind travels, looking for the perfect excuse.
The other guard snorts. “We have an intruder here, Malcolm.”
( They weren’t as dumb as she thought they would be. )
“Wait!” she cries out hurriedly. She couldn’t best them in combat and her wits have currently abandoned her. “I…er—“
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“She’s with me.” Another voice says. She meets the eyes again of the young man who was dancing below.
“Karachi,” the soldier swallows. “Go ahead.” They step away.
( Oh gods. What would she tell this guy? )
The male opens the doors with flourish and bows. “After you, Ms. Rabidan.”
Vanya falters. How does this guy know her name?
She steps inside, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she does so. The man follows her, and then he closes the door with a soft click. He turns to her, and his voice wavers with different emotions as he speaks.
“I thought you were dead. Yet, here you are.”
The first thing that catches her attention is the scar on his cheek. It is a striking contrast to his otherwise flawless features. The long, jagged, white line runs down from his temple to his jaw, like a crack on a porcelain doll. She wonders how he got it.
What kind of pain or suffering had carved such a wound on him? Was it from a battle? A curse? A sacrifice? She wants to ask him, but she doesn’t know how to speak.
He stares at her, waiting for an answer.
“Do I—“ she takes a deep breath. “Do I know you?”
He looks at her with utter disbelief. And then he bursts into peals of laughter and she could swear the flowers bloomed more when the joyful sound filled the air.
“You’re kidding me, right?” He wipes a tear from his eye.
“No,” she says firmly. “I’m not.”
His grin fades.
“You’re serious?” He lowers his voice. “Vanya, what happened to you?”
She blinks. He knows her name too.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He glares at her.
“Don’t kretin lie to me, Vanya.” He growls, but without much conviction.
( What was this guy’s problem? )
Her eyes widen at the use of the Elvin language, but she fires back anyway.
“I’m not lying. I don’t know you.”
“No. No, no, no.” He looks at her with such broken eyes that her own soul aches. “You don’t mean this. This is not happening.”
He runs a frustrated hand through his hair and turns towards the window. He wears the mask beautifully, but it doesn’t fool Vanya. She could see the tears and the grief struck in his eyes.
“Look, I don’t know you.” She lets her eyes sweep around the room. “And what I’m looking for isn’t here either.”
“Vanya—it’s me. Novus.”
She lets an exasperated breath out.
“If you want to arrest me, just do it!” Her voice pierces her own ears, and it echoes in the room.
A loud bang. The protestors are here, she has failed, so badly–Arthur is going to kill her, she’ll starve on the streets–
He puts a finger over her lips and hushes her.
“What?“
Her mother would know what to do, where is her mother? Oh, wait–six feet under the ocean–
“Shut up!” He hisses.
“Why—“
There is a heavy smack to her head, with something hard–feels like wood. All goes black.
**
When Vanya wakes up, they are outside. The silhouette of the trees tower over them, and the cool desert air gently blows at her face. She sits up, her eyes, half-closed.
She turns and Novus sits a bit far away, toasting some meat on a bone fire. The fire spits flames as it crackles and the birds sing to themselves. She gets up and stumbles over to him.
“You knocked me out,” She accuses.
He shrugs. “There was an attack on the castle. Had to get you out.”
“I could have done it myself,” she snarls angrily. “But you chose to knock me out–”
“Tell me the truth, would you have come with me?”
Vanya thinks about it. “I would have certainly…not have come with you. Smart decision–wait! Not smart! Why did you do it? Couldn’t have left me?”
He finally looks at her in confusion. “Why what?”
“Why did you get me out?”
“You’re my friend. Even if you pretend to not know me.”
She scowls, frustrated that he still doesn’t believe her.
“I don’t know you.” She repeats.
He laughs bitterly. “You are Vanya Rabidan. You are named after a constellation but you like to say that it’s named after you. You are an elf. You hate it when people pile different food on top of each other. You think we should eat it separately. You don’t know your birthday.”
She blinks and then clears her throat. “Anyone who spies on me could know that.” He doesn’t know her, he doesn’t know her. Vanya would remember–right?
He sighs. “Go back to sleep.”
She grumbles to herself and lays down, letting sleep take her, dreaming of a world where the stars shine again.