Zorian was scrubbing at the floors, ignoring the brash ting of pain from his left knuckles, greeting his teeth as he hissed in breath. He scrubbed near all the floors in the keep, and was coming to the last in the entrance hall, his hands had begun to blister at the hard work, nearly taking him all day, and yet still he had the silver to polish. It had already begun to become dark, shadowing into the large room as the candles started to be lit, Zorian sighed, as he took a moment of rest. Just when he began to scrub the floors once more his name started to echo and bounce off the stone walls of the keep, screaming angrily for him. He sighed again, as he dusted off himself. He rose up from the floor, stretching out his tired aching limbs, cracking his neck side to side, “ZORIAN!” the voice carried on to bellow. Zorian made his way up the steps, traveling to his stepsisters chambers, he did not knock as always stepping in without a care, seconds of his feet stomping onto the creaking wooden boards did something come flying to him. dodging he stepped to his side, hearing something shattering and crack on the wall and down to the floor, seeing it to be a glass cup.
“I have been calling you for near a century.” Gwyn snarled at Zorian,
“So you decided to throw glass at my face?” he questioned maddeningly,
“I have no time for you tongue!” she shrieked, “which i assure you i will make mother punish you for. I must be dressed and ready, or I shall be late,”
Zorian groaned, as he marched to her, his stepsister was wearing nothing but her plain white shift, Zorian began to dress Gwyn, her dress made of a fine warm green lien, that came loose around her shoulders, enough space for the top of her breasts to show, her sleeves were long and draped much like her shirt, which flowed and trailed behind her, the lien was fashioned with embroidered patterns, with golden thread. She wore a large ruby broach by her breasts, granting them more attention. She ordered Zorian to adorn her with pearls around her neck, and small hung ruby earrings to match the broach. She then had Zorian style her hair in a golden ribbioned net, at the back of her neck. He would admit that she was indeed very beautiful in that moment, and was sure she would capture the eye of many noblemen. She caught a reflection of herself in her mirror, she grinned victoriously, “my i am glorious, i look as if i am goddess,” she gushed. “The prince will dare not ignore me this eve, I am sure of it,” she spoke confidently gazing at herself. She sat down, as she lifted her bare feet to Zorian, waiting for him to place her shoes on her, he slipped them, kneeling down, “you had made sure the merchant got my letter?” she made certain with Zorian,
“Of course my lady, i had Tom do it right away.”
She hummed, smiling, “I shall have a splendid night,” she grinned, “I'll be the talk of court for weeks.”
Zorian got up, he bowed, “my lady,” he bid farewell,
“Goodnight Zorian,” she said absently, a rare thing to hear from his stepsister, she fiddled with the ring of pearls at her neck. He walked away from the frillious girl, heading to his stepbrothers chambers, when he entered he saw the boy already dressed in his finery, pulling down his sleeves, and up his boots, “Zorian,” he smiled seeing the boy, “do not worry, i have already dressed myself,” he spun around to show Zorian,
Zorian scoffed, cracking a smirk as he saw a part of his under tunic hanging out his jacket, “impressing,” Zoian spoke as he strides towards Rob, “but your tunic is hanging out by your arse.” he told him.
Rob felt behind himself feeling his white shirt, “damn,” he cursed, Zorian helped Rob tuck in the tunic, looking over the boy. “Has mother said anything to you?” Rob began,
Zorian gulped, looking over to his red swelling knuckles, “I told her I wished not to go.”
Rob sighed, “you are rather stupid sometimes,” he muttered, “brother, it would have been fun, just like when we were younger.” he smiled at the boy.
“It will never be like that,” Zorian told Rob, “i am not your brother, i am not even your stepbrother, i am but a serving boy.” he said stepping back.
Rob frowned, “you mustn’t listen to mother nor Gwyn, you-”
“I clean, I cook, i polish, I scrub, I am a servant Rob, I do not care that I am.” he grumbled, “Now excuse me,” he bowed to Rob, “I must attend to her ladyship.”
As Zorian left he heard his stepbrother sigh, and murmur something to himself that was lost to Zorians ears, he shuffled to his stepmother's chambers, knocking three times awaiting her answer, “come in,” she told him. The boy walked in looking about seeing the woman standing by her fire, “are they ready?” she asked,
“Yes, my lady.”
She smiled, “Gwyn is as beautiful as I was when I was in my youth. She will marry well,” she assured herself. “She has all that i had processed, and more.” Zorian wanted to snort at that but held back, “and Rob, so much like his father, had I ever told you about their father?” her head turned away from the fires hearth and to Zorians face,
“No, my lady.”
She hummed, “i had met him on my thirteenth spring, he was taking part in a joust, my grandfather held, he was stunning to watch, and at the celebrational feast, he sat next to me, and not once had stopped talking to me, i had been a bashful child then, but he was not but two more summers older than i,” she sighed, “he was a noble knight, one of his fathers youngest sons. We had married not but a week later without any of our families consent.” she smiled brightly not one Zorian had ever seen her with, “but he had died shortly after i had given birth to Gwyn and Rob, killed in combat, the man who had killed him, had plunged his sword straight through my husbands left eye, then gutted him clean.” she looked back to the fire, her voice dim, “we had not much, and if it were not for the kindness of his family i fear we would have been reduced to poverty.” she was silent for a moment, “come,” she gestured for Zorian to come forward, “brush my hair will you, it is a bit tangled.”
Zorian picked up her brush, and went through her long locks, it was quiet as he did and they did not say a word to one for rest of the time as he got her ready, dressing her into her orange gown, that by first look he had wondered to himself where she had found such a colour and afford it, he fashioned her hair behind her to cover her naked back, and beaded pins onto the top of hair. After she was done, she took one look at herself in her mirror and smiled, “yes, very good.” she tilted her head back and forth, “you may go,” she dismissed without care, her hand shooing him away.
Zorian wondered out from her chambers going back to his work, soon enough he was done scrubbing the floors, and whipping the sweat from his brow he got up and went to collect the sliver, he sat in the great hall, in feasting table, as he scrubbed the many objects with a cloth. As he did, he heard the laughter and chatter of his step sister and mother, “had you seen how dirty he was? my i am glad he is not to come, i would surely not have the gaze of the prince on me if he were next to us.” Gwyn giggled,
Her mother laughed, “as dirty as the pigs,” she chortled, “I am glad that I am able to tell all that he is dead. Imagine if they knew the truth, my we would be a laughing stock, to have such a pitiful lord in charge of our keep.”
Gwyn snorted, “let alone as a step brother.”
“Well,” her mother began, their voices drifting along each corridor and hallway of the keep straight to Zorians ears in the great hall. “Not for long, i have made a deal with a man in town, he owns a slave ship by the port. They’ll be heading back south in a month and among their cargo there will be Zorian and he will be someone else's problem soon enough.”
Gwyn laughed, “you have sold him as a slave?”
“He is so handy with labour,” his stepmother spoke sweetly, “it will be good for his talents to be used, it is as if he was born for it,” she mused,
“Mother you can’t,” Rob cut through,
“It is already done,” she snapped to him, “no more talk of that irritating bug, we must leave for the festival or we will be late.”
Zorian heard the clicks for their feet on floors and the shut of the large doors. He felt an ache grow in his chest and a sour taste on the back of his tongue, he dropped the silverware, and rushed out the keep onto the bailey heading towards the keeps grove. He emptied the vile that erupted out from his lips, not taking notice that he knelt by the stub that was his mother's tree.
He wiped his mouth clean, groaning, “sell me?” he questioned angrily, “who is she to sell me as a slave?” his anger dissolved as he sighed out a breath, a dread filling him, “a slave,” he told himself, “i’ll be someone's slave in a month, on a ship heading gods knows where.” he looked over to the stub sitting down upon it, his head fell onto his hands, his fingers pulling onto his raven black hair, “fucking hell,” he muttered, “a bloody, shitting slave.” That was when he heard a squawk, looking to his side to a crow, then landed another and another and another, untill, a whole death of them arrived shaping into something, till it made a woman dressed in a black feathered gown, that trailed for the longest distance behind her. Zorian fell from the tree stub crawling backwards in shock and fear. The woman was the most beautiful lady he had ever laid eyes on, her skin was the colour curdled milk, and her lips were almost a shade of blue, she looked as if she had risen from death, her hair the same hue of her feathered dress, a raven black. She stepped towards Zorian, with an unsettling smile, “i’d not long,” she said in a cold terrible voice, “child, do you know who i am?”
Zorian shook his head still groveling on the ground, “I am Britilina, I am but a spirit of your mother.”
“Mother?” Zorian questioned,
“My duties are long and vast, for I serve the gods in my afterlife, I bring souls to death's waters, and welcome them into the halls of the gods.”
“Why have you come?” Zorian trembled,
“I have watched you, and I can not interfere with those who are that of mortals. But,” she started, ''I can comfort you in your sorrows.”
“Why have you never come to me before?” Zorian asked getting up, as he hastiently stepped towards her,
“You have never come to me, I had thought perhaps you had forgotten your mother.”
Zorian shook his head, “no, never, i could not bear to come here after she had cut down the tree.”
his mother placed a hand on his shoulder, “you are much your father's son,” she said, “he will be pleased to hear what type of man you have become.”
Zoian snorted, “a servant, a soon to be slave, i doubt he’ll be proud.” he sighed, “i had been content, in truth i do not think i want the lordship, but now i am to become something i fear too much,” he shook,
“Hush,” his mother soothed, her hands stroked back her hair, “all will be well.”
Zorian laughed, “it will not, she has won the game she has played since father's death, and i can do nothing about it. For where would I go? there is no work, no one can afford new workers, not even a farm hand, I am trapped.” he relented. It was quiet as they sat in the evening light of the moon, “now i wish i had gone,” he chuckled, “to rebel just a bit before i am sold and carted away.”
His mother hummed, “do you truly desire that?” she asked,
Zorian scoffed, “more than anything, to know i have beaten her in some way will grant me enough happiness to accept my fate.”
His mother nodded, “very well, i shall grant this, with the little power i still have here on the mortal plain.”
Zorian gave his mother an odd gaze, “i do not know what-” but before he could finish his words, a swarm of birds began to circle around him flying hurriedly, till all he saw was the black of their feathers.
They dispersed as quickly as they came for Zorian to find himself wearing new clothes, finer clothes, his skin no more stained and smeared with dirt, but was clean. He looked to himself, he wore a rich blue that matched that of frozen water, his collar around his neck was lined with soften blue feathers no larger than that of a flower petal. He felt something on his face, his fingers touched upon it, “a mask?” he questioned,
“All will be wearing one,”
Zorian had a moment of doubt, “my stepfamily, if they see me, her ladyship will have me whipped in the early hours of morning, or worse burn and brand my skin.”
“They’ll not recognize you.” she said,
“But-”
“Come,” she took hold of his hand as she guided him out the grove, they walked to the stables, Ridley was still hard at work, giving the horses their evening feed. He turned though when he heard new footsteps in the stables, his eyes widened, “gods,” he breathed,
“It is alright,” Zorians mother said in command, “my son wishes to borrow a horse for this evening.”
“I-i-”
“This one,” she pointed walking up to a paddock, “am i surprised you still have him, your father loved him dearly,” she told Zorian,
Ridley looked to Zorian, “milord?” he questioned, “i didn’t recognize you for that moment, but i now i can see, you look awfully fine tonight,” he commented,
“Thank you Ridley, you won’t tell anyone will you?”
“Course not,” Ridley shrugged off, “I'm glad you decided to go. Is it true milord though, that milady wishes to sell you this coming month? It is only i hard they had said something along the line of that when they left,”
“Don’t worry, Ridley, it’s fine.”
“But milord-” he tried object,
“We have no time for this, the festival will be over before you arrive.” Zorians mother interjected,
“Of course,” Zorian nodded,
“Quickly now, saddle up the horse, we have not a moment to lose,” the woman spoke to the stable hand. The boy rushed away, as he began to prepare the horse. Zorians heart thudded, and his hands grew wet with sweat, he gulped nervously,
“What if they do recognize me?” Zorian asked his mother,
“Hope they do not.” she told him gravely.
Once the horse was ready Zorian climbed on him, “try not to get too drunk,” Ridley warned Zorian,
the boy smirked, “nor get too fat on the food.”
Ridley smiled up to Zorian, “maybe you’ll catch the eye of the prince,”
Zorian snorted, “gods have mercy, i would rather be the drunk fool then the object of such a person's fancy.” and with that he rode away, waved to the stable body and thanked his mother, as he rode he saw her body disappear with a flock of crows as they headed back into the night sky.
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