ZEPHYR RAVENSWOOD

Zephyr pulled off his hood, exposing and bathing his blue hair in the colour of the dim red brightening the brothel. The mingling scents of thick perfume and incense, causing a momentary spike of discomfort to his nose while his eyes gently wandered about the space.

“Rather fascinating designs for tapestries,” Zephyr told his advisor. 

Flynn pulled down his hood. “A brothel should have the designs of one, my ki—” he stopped the word quickly from completely escaping his lips. “Forgive me. I near misspoke.”

“Forgiven, my friend.” Zephyr patted Flynn’s shoulder and smiled. “This is good, isn’t it? Now you can drop the stiffening gestures and call me by my name,” he whispered.

Flynn turned his eyes to the soft, blossomed smile plastered over his king’s face and said, “Will try… Zephyr,” with a tiny bit of a struggle, he managed to speak the name, which in return, struck Zephyr as weird. For someone who had acclaimed to being his friend all his life, speaking his name seemed to be too much of a burden.

Why…? Zephyr’s eyes squinted as he mused, but it lasted no less than a second before his face brightened once again.  

“There.” Zephyr chuckled, giving a light pat to Flynn’s back. “Not so hard. We’ve been friends a long time, calling me by my name shouldn’t be such a gloomy task, should it?” he added half-jokingly, while the other half was filled with inquisition.

Flynn sighed. “You know I have never had the luxury of calling you by your name. It’s always been ‘my lord,’ and as of the day before, it’s become ‘my king.’ This is a first and an honour for me, one I shall cherish.”

After listening to Flynn speak, Zephyr’s mirthful visage shifted into something perturbed. 

Shit… I was so focused on proving he was not to be trusted that I never gave chance to the idea that he might be telling the truth. Not being able to call his friend by his name. How stiffening must it be to be friends with someone so far up in status… He breathed out a deep exhale and turned his eyes away from Flynn as his hand dropped slowly from his back. Not like I can say much about friendships though…

Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt…

As their chat came to a jarring close, a brown-haired worker espied them and sprung up as fast as she could. “Welcome. Whose service do you request, my lords?” She asked as her eyes danced about their silk and face. They look rich, she thought… and handsome. The best of the workers would love to bed them, which would mean more money. But her fantasies came to a crunching close as Flynn spoke up. 

“The lady in charge. We seek to meet her.”

Her face scrunched slightly, despite, she tried her best to maintain a welcoming smile as she replied, “I’m sorry, my lords, but the madame doesn’t seek to bed.”

“Neither do we,” Flynn said. “We have come to talk to her.”

Her smile was completely gone now. Deep in her mind she cursed the day, as she remembered the lord and lady who had arrived earlier and seeked not to bed anyone, and now there were two lords of the same sort standing before her. But she clung to the bright side. The last two paid a fine amount, these two might do the same, she thought, embracing hope tightly. 

“Now, if you will. Take us to her.” Flynn called the worker back from her fancy dwam.

“Once again, I ask for your forgiveness, my lords. But the madame takes no visitors without proper cause. Might you tell me what you seek and I shall pass it on. That or something else might do the trick…” She finally stumbled upon what caressed her mind the most.

Flynn’s lips curled up into an amused smirk. “Coins, you mean.”

She returned a polite smile. “Might you offer some, I shall humbly receive, my lord.”

Zephyr who had stood quiet, couldn’t further suppress his quiet giggle from erupting into a low laughter. “What’s your name, pretty lady,” he added as soon as his laugh ended, taking a leaned step forward closer to the worker, his face almost touching hers.

“Ivy, my lord,” she replied. 

He then jerked a thumb towards Flynn. “He’s Flynn… Flynn Claymore. Do you know what that means, Ivy?” Flynn eyed Zephyr curiously, wondering what exactly his mind carried. “It means he’s—”

“He is from House Claymore?!” Ivy exclaimed, cutting through Zephyr’s words like hot knife through butter. “Forgive me, my lord. I did not know who you were. I have made a grave mistake, please pardon me,” she begged as she fell to her knees, her head slumped as low as it could get. 

Zephyr straightened and turned a sceptical gaze towards Flynn. I planned to use his position as royal advisor—but what is this? He’s such a big shot even without his position? Is he really far away from the royal family in status or is the royal family just that much higher up in the hierarchy…?

“Stand. For something so trivial, there is nothing to forgive,” Flynn said, giving Ivy the leisure of rising to her feet, but her head remained slightly bowed until Flynn added in a low commanding tone, “Now, take us to her.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Flynn turned his head slightly and gave Zephyr a soft fulfilled nod as Ivy breezed around, leading them towards a rose-coloured curtained room and into it.

“Pardon me,” Ivy began, her palms pressed together beneath her belly, while Zephyr and Flynn both brushed the two opposite sides of the curtain as they made their way in. 

The room smelled no different from the brothel’s lounge, if anything, the perfume was stronger, and Zephyr’s nose twitched continuously from the discomfort—but he managed, afterall, it wasn’t much as strong as the modern perfumes his mother used to pour on herself in his past life. 

“My lords here seek some time with you,” Ivy told the seamed, dimple-faced woman covered in a beautiful velvet gown, who lay seated graciously on a cushion the same colour as the curtains, with her legs elevated on the low table before her. Wearing a seemingly old but young face, it was obvious how much of the years she had seen—a few more than the queens maybe—but the beauty of her earlier days faded not. It was vividly etched onto her.

Since their entrance, the woman’s gaze had not left them. She had pinned her eyes on the auburn and blue haired men who had wandered into her garden of peace. “Leave us,” she told the worker. 

Ivy bowed her head in response and immediately left the room. 

The woman dropped her legs from the table and stood up, then bowed her head slightly, saying, “My lord of House Claymore. Welcome to a woman’s cave.” Her lips curled into a soft smile as she raised her eyes. 

Flynn replied with a wider smile filled with traces of glistening joy, before pouring out a soft chuckle. “Madame Rose. Ravens. How many years has it been?” He then strode forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, her bow resigning as she stood up straight. “I thought not of you remaining here. How old are you now?”

“Never ask a lady her age, young lord. And besides, where else would a woman like me go?” Madame Rose smiled then turned her gaze over to Zephyr. “And who is our young lord’s companion?”

Zephyr, who had stood dumbfounded at the scene playing before him, snapped back quickly and turned a waiting stare towards Flynn, who gently patted Madame Rose’s shoulders once more before turning his eyes to him. 

“My companion… is the King.”