Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1124735.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major
      Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      Gen, F/M, Other, Multi
  Fandom:
      Tintenwelt-Trilogie_|_Inkheart_Trilogy_-_Cornelia_Funke
  Character:
      adderhead
  Additional Tags:
      Lolicon, Age_Difference, Torture, Slavery, Underage_Sex, Child_Abuse,
      Death, Original_Character(s), Alternate_Universe
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-07 Words: 10054
****** In The Lord of Silver’s Heart ******
by Ichigo777
Summary
     A 50-themes challenge starring MY version of the Adderhead from the
     Inkheart Trilogy and my original character Altáriel.
Notes
     My 1st 50 themes challenge. I picked five of the 'alternate' topics
     to replace the writer's choice ones, but otherwise, I did the table
     as it was.
     Story contains mentions of sex, underage sex, child abuse, child
     neglect, lolicon, torture, death, ect, but nothing explicit. Read at
     your own risk. Two characters are Lord Adderhead and a young Altáriel
     (my OC). Some blurbs are quite short and other span multiple
     paragraphs - depends how motivated I was!
1 - Twilight
            He hated twilight more than any other time of day, no matter what
day it was. Twilight was when they were the most active and when they wandered
around the forest around the castle; he could almost hear them calling, almost
feel the chill they brought with them. He hated the feeling of being near them,
more than anything else: it was his deepest fear. Twilight used to be spent
being occupied either with a late dinner or an important meeting - somewhere
where they were no windows that could be opened.
            But Altáriel loved the twilight - it was during twilight that her
mother had always told her stories to make her sleep when she was just a little
child; in fact all of Altáriel’s memories of her mother happened at twilight.
She would sit on a chair on the open balcony of his bedroom and watch the sun
set below the trees. When it got colder, she shivered but never got up for a
coat or cloak, even when she was freezing. It was as if she were afraid that
the twilight would vanish if she left her perch. It’s how he got into the habit
of coming over to see her, to bring her one, and how he ended up spending his
twilights with his arm wrapped around her small form.
 
2 - Burn
            Her mother had taught Altáriel how to bake before her passing and
she had always loved to bake, until her father and her new stepmother had
confined her to the kitchen, forcing her to make the daily meals for her entire
family and only saving her scraps. She began to hate the kitchen, to burn the
food on purpose and to accidentally burn herself in the process. Before long
they grew tired of it, before long she no longer had to cook (she still didn’t
eat well or sometimes at all) - but she missed baking.
            He had caught her one night, just a few days after she officially
moved in with him in the castle, sneaking out of bed a little before two to use
the oven in the kitchen when no one was around. He had unintentionally startled
her, causing her to drop the cookies she had made and burn her arm pretty badly
on the hot tray. He had bandaged her arm himself and, as an apology because for
some strange reason he felt guilty, the next afternoon he had baked the
replacement cookies, under her instruction. It was the first time he had ever
cooked anything in his life, but seeing the smile that danced across her face,
he though it might not be too bad to do it again sometime. The cookies didn’t
taste too bad either.
 
3 - Silence
            Altáriel didn’t talk much at first. When she arrived at his front
door, brought by a guard, she had been beaten and battered almost beyond
recognition, she was so unlike the vibrant little girl he had met at that party
- and she didn’t utter a sound. Not when the doctors treated her, not when the
shrapnel was pulled from her feet, not when a scalpel was taken to her back
without the numbing herbs first, not when her multiple wounds were treated with
the stinging cleaner and then tightly wrapped, not when the dresser came and
spent three hours washing the gunk dye from her hair that her father had used
to hide her real color, not for anything. She remained quiet for days, looking
at her lap and only her lap in some kind of state of shock. After days and days
of being in her company she finally spoke to him and only to him. It was two
words that left him a bit shocked, but it had been words. Months later, she’s
still quiet around everyone else, even around him at times. But it’s no longer
an inconvenience - he can read her silence now.
 
4 - Secrets
            He has many secrets - he’s been alive for over 60 years and rules a
country after all. He never shares those secrets, not to anyone. He has a new
secret now, a secret that’s hard to keep. His new houseguest is just that, a
pretty young guest to everyone else - to him, she’s his little secret lover.
Altáriel is his new secret - a secret he doesn’t know for how long he can keep
quiet. And, quite frankly, he’s not sure he even wants to keep her a secret for
much longer…
 
5 - Blankets
            He gave her a lavish bedroom, unlike she’d ever been in before,
with a huge bed piled with fine pillows and embroidered blankets covered in all
the pretty things women liked to look at - things she never had at home. He
thought she’d be happy there, but Altáriel would have none of it. Night after
night she trekked into his room after changing in her own, hoisting herself up
on his bed beside him with effort (she was still small, even more so than a
normal girl due to her malnutrition, and his bed was high) and curling up
against him under the thick blankets he preferred that bore no patterns or
designs. At first he wondered if she liked plain things - now he realizes the
blankets and pillows mean nothing to her: she comes to be with him.
 
6 - Linger
            After a week with her, he had had the guards purchase two types of
shampoo from the local maker - his normal kind and a second with floral scents.
He had discovered that having Altáriel’s hair smell like a grown man’s was
distracting to him: girls should smell like roses not wood. He had presented
the bottle to her himself, telling her it was just for her (the sure-fire way
to get her to use it). From then on, she smelled like the sweetest of roses and
her scent would linger in the rooms long after she left, leaving him to inhale
her sweet scent before following her trail.
 
7 - Clouds
            The left hall had a pillow pit instead of a throne; in his younger
days there had been two or three women on each arm when he had relaxed there,
doing court while smooching the hot beauties on him. Nowadays he rarely used it
at all - the thrones looked better and felt better on his older back - there
were no longer fawning girls to drape around his arms either. Sometimes, in the
early morning, he’d find Altáriel there, laying on the pile with a huge smile
on her face. After seeing her there a few times, he asked her why and she told
him the pillows were so soft they were like clouds. She had always wondered
what clouds felt like, but could never touch one. Feeling the pillows, she
thought they felt like what clouds might feel like. The next morning he gives
the wacky inventor of the court a new job - find a way to get up high enough to
touch clouds…if only just to see her smile.
 
8 - Liar
            Altáriel hates being babied. She’s only 8, but she acts like she’s
older due to her early hard years and she hates it when he treats her like a
little kid. He starts talking around in circles to avoid telling her the
information he thinks she’s too young to hear. She’ll just sit there, arms
crossed and call him a liar with a pout, then ignore everything he says. His
resolve usually breaks very quickly and within minutes he’s kissing her in
apology and telling it to her straight, the way he should have done in the
first place, or so she thinks.
 
9 - Remember
            She cries her heart out when he returns to her mother’s pendant
that her father had sold long ago. Holding it so tightly the chain cuts into
her hands, Altáriel just sobs and sobs against him and he wonders If it was the
right thing to do, to make her remember this. But then she looks up at him, the
tears making her eyes shimmer like starlight and she thanks him from the bottom
of her heart and he knows he’ll spend the rest of his days trying to make her
smile like that each and every day - he’ll always remember the first one.
 
10 - Pure
            She’s an innocent little thing with only good intentions -
seemingly pure and uncorrupted when it comes to the loving relationship between
a male and a female at least. She’s eager to learn, but he’s very reluctant to
teach her anything more than kisses for now. Altáriel is the only thing that
could ever come close to being defined as pure in his life … and he likes to
have that tiny speck of purity in his life.
 
11 - Hand
            He tries his best not to think of their age difference unless he
absolutely has to. He views her as his, no matter how old she is or how short
she may be. He’s well used to having young women as lovers, well used to having
their weight mean nothing as they sit on his lap. It’s when Altáriel holds his
hand that the size difference becomes obvious and undeniable, no matter how
hard he tries. Her hands are tiny, pale, and scarred from years of being
neglected and forced to cook for her family. His are larger, wrinkled by the
sun and by age, but relatively unmarred in comparison. It’s a luxury she wasn’t
afforded. It reminds him often of what she’s suffered though and strengthens
his resolve to never do it to her himself.
 
12 - Distance
            He notices the space in-between them has all but vanished one day.
When Altáriel first arrived, she’d sit on the same loveseat as him but at the
opposite end, as far away as she could - years of neglect and abuse from her
family had taught her to shy away from people. She would only sit with him on
the other end - with anyone else she would refuse and just stand. As time
passed, she grew more comfortable being next to him. Now when she sits beside
him, there is no distance between them at all - she’s right up against him.
Some nights she pushes further and half lays herself over his lap and he can‘t
bring himself to shove her away. It shows him how much distance has been
covered, both figuratively and not.
 
13 - February
            Love is something he usually fails at - catching women is no
problem, keeping them is the hard part. And this stupid month of February is
all about love. He has no idea what to buy for Altáriel or if he should buy her
anything at all. A dress, cookies? Should he write a poem? Eventually, he takes
an afternoon off and wanders through the shops, hoping for an inspiration. In a
small corner second-hand store, a glint of gold catches his eye and he’s amazed
to see it’s a pair of earrings that are a perfect match for the locket he
returned to her not too long ago. With a smirk that could outclass any other,
he buys them. Her expression upon receiving them two nights later is priceless
- and so is his following reaction to her very intimate gift.
 
14 - Fill
            He sort-of hates himself for giving in to her so easily. A quick
pout, some batted eyelashes, a peak of creamy legs under a very sexy piece of
lingerie, and a pleading tone to Altáriel’s voice is apparently all it takes
for him to toss what remains of his morals straight out the window and forget
it ever was an issue for the moment, at least. Despite his protests, he’s still
doing it, pressing her body to his, filling her up with him. And he hates
himself for it and every second he wants to will himself to stop, but then he
catches a glimpse of her face - a bright smile for him and only him and he
can’t tell her no. She’s found his one and only weakness and he can’t help but
do what she wants now - even if it’s not good for her. All her can do is smile,
enjoy it, and fill her up.
 
15 - Hold
            They all used to run from him after it was finished. They ran off
the second their legs could carry them away from him - each and every one of
them. Not Altáriel though - she grips onto him as if she’s afraid he’ll leave.
She finds herself a niche, usually under one arm, and snuggles herself into
him, holding on so tight it’s almost painful at times. He never leaves her
after, never has, never will - but still she holds him tight again and again.
He doesn’t really mind too much; it’s nice to have a woman stay, even if his
new woman is anything but one yet.
 
16 - Fire
            His temper is like fire, Altáriel always tells him; once it’s
ignited, it blazes and then burns out of control so quickly. She’s terrified of
how he yells at the idiots who come to court, amazed at times as to how
something so simple can set him off so quickly. He always tells her she’s water
to his fire, that one look at her face is all it takes to calm him down when
he’s in a rage. The thought makes her face burn. He always tells her he’ll
never hurt her, but there’s no need as she’s never doubted him to begin with.
 
17 - Tomorrow
            She hates the word tomorrow and the idea of doing anything then -
Altáriel’s all for today. After losing her mother so early on, she regrets the
times she said the word to her and wishes for nothing more than to have that
time back. Now she’s with him and she’s determined not to make the same
mistakes again by saying ‘tomorrow‘. He’s a firm believer in doing some thing
tomorrow - especially when it comes to the things she normally wants to do. But
then she gets upset and the tears start and he always gives in. Tomorrow only
means more of the same.
 
18 - Closer
            She’s closer than he is; closer to being perfect in every way,
shape, and form. Some nights he wonders how she came to be his, how fate’s
wheels turned and landed the almost perfect her with the imperfect him. Whether
it was intended or a kink in the design, he’s grateful for it. After only a few
months with her, he can’t imagine his life ever being anything more perfect
without Altáriel there.
 
19 - Heed
            He’s often surprised that she’s more wild than him, a free spirit.
In his younger days he was more reckless, but age has wizened him. Most of his
previous lovers were careful little things, but not Altáriel. She hears and
heeds no warnings unless serious consequences are faced; she tiptoes over
breaking bridges and skips over slippery rocks paying no heed at all to the
warning signs. He finds himself often running to the other side, prepared to
catch her should she fall. He finds himself wandering in thought one day and
wonders if he put his watchful mother through the same things when he was
young…
 
20 - Buttercups
            She loves flowers more than any other thing (besides him, of
course). Flowers to make necklaces and crowns, flowers to gather in bouquets
and place in crystal vases, flowers to sketch on smooth white paper of the
finest quality, flowers to make perfume from along with soap and other lovely
lady things, and flowers to gather nectar from to make sweets for sharing -
just some of Altáriel’s uses for flowers. He always has to take her out to see
the flowers since none grow within the castle walls. Once there used to be a
courtyard filled with buttercups, now it’s long dead - some days he wishes he
had taken better care of it. He’s considered hiring a secret gardener.
 
21 - Underneath
            He’s afraid to lay with her at times, her tiny body underneath his.
He’s fearful of crushing her, given her small size. He’s reluctant to ever do
it, despite her pleas. Altáriel likes the feeling of comfort that comes from
being surrounded by him - if it were possible she’d wish for him to surround
her on all sides at all times, to be enveloped in him and only him. The times
when she’s underneath him, preferably with no clothes between them, is her
favorite time. It is the one time she is sure she is safe from everything, the
one time she can truly and utterly relax. At night sometime she often sneaks
and worms her way underneath him. And, despite his protests, he never pushes
her away.
 
22 - Hide
            He never understood why she always hides when he had female guests
over. They would walk into the castle and Altáriel would flee from her normal
place at his side and vanish. He would send guards to look for her, but they
could never find her or if they did, she would run and hide again until they
couldn‘t. He would try during breaks, but he never succeeded in bringing her
back either. Only after the women would leave would she return to his side,
quiet and downcast usually. After days and days of being with her, he finally
realizes why she leaves - fear. Fear that he’ll take another bride and she’ll
no longer be needed. She is too young for marriage, to young to be of real use
to him, she feels. He’s stopped having the majority of unmarried female guests
over since then. And she’s stopped hiding.
 
23 - Flash
            Thunder booms and lightning flashes across the sky often in
Argenta; the country has always had an abundance of storms, most dry. The
location of the castle ensures that he has seen every single one of them and
the high walls of stone that rise high nearby only serve to amplify the sound
and light. She’s not so used to thunder and lightning. The first time a storm
came round since Altáriel’s arrival, she jumped sky high and buried herself
under the covers of his bed, hiding her face from the window and muffling her
ears with his pillow. He tried to coax her out, but whenever the light flashed
and the sound came booming again, she’d hide again. Eventually, he pulled her
from the covers and held her in his lap. The light flashed and the thunder
boomed, but as long as he held her, she only whimpered and eventually became
silent, even falling asleep on his shoulder. Whenever the storms came, it was
always to him she ran.
 
24 - Anger
            He’s tried his hardest to never be angry at her for being her. His
anger has been reserved for the so-called family she lived with. He knew, that
day when they met, that her home life wasn’t the greatest. It took until
Altáriel returned to him in such a horrible state for him to understand how
horrible it was. The family who treated her like garbage. Her father, whom has
only seen her as a degenerate, whom had remarried after her true mother had
died for status. The stepmother, who treated her like a slave, making a young
girl cook, clean, and serve them like they were royalty. Her half sisters, who
treated her like garbage and made her do their chores, constantly berating her.
Her whole family was prepared, rather than lettering her be free, to have her
rot in the basement, to starve to death or bleed to death: whichever came
first. They sold her mother’s treasures to pay for their greed. She wasn’t
considered ’family’ to them.
            When she came to him and he learned this his anger was unleashed
upon all of them, young half sisters included. The unmarried sisters went to
the upper levels of his silver mines; the married sisters were forced to pay
huge fines (to the chagrin of their new families). The stepmother went to the
deep mines, to do hard manual labor for the rest of her days. Her father he
sent to the dungeons to be “treated” that way she had been. Only after months
of treatments, when he begged for death, did he finally have him executed. He
was happy to have rid her of her horrid family…but found he couldn’t bring
himself to tell her truth.
 
25 - Shame
            He toured the mines normally once or twice a year at most, less
there was some great discovery of silver or something else. He was shocked
when, on the morning of his semi-annual visit, she came to him and asked to
come with him. His mind went blank and he couldn’t find a reason to tell her no
in the end. He was more nervous than anything to bring her with him, for the
obvious reason of her family’s confinement, which he still hadn’t told her
about. The tour of the upper levels went quickly and he was able to avoid
running into her half sisters while there. For her part, she seemed to like the
stalagmites and stalactites and even found a few pretty rocks she liked (which
he had the guard carry). He should have known it was too good to last.
            On the lowest level, there was the crowd surrounding something. He
realized too late what it was: her stepmother. Altáriel took a look and didn’t
believe her eyes. The stepmother noticed her. Bloodied and grimy, she had
almost no energy, yet she threw a rock at Altáriel, which missed by a long
while. The rock served a purpose though: she was now sure it was her
stepmother. Her eyes widened with shock and she actually tried to approach her,
but he grabbed her waist and pulled her back and away. In a small room, he
tried to calm her with no success. She was in shock; horrified. He felt nothing
but shame.
            Eventually he stopped talking to her and sat there, head down. He
didn’t know how long he sat until he felt her hands on his cheek. Her eyes
spoke of sorrow, his eyes showed only shame. But she smiled at him and embraced
him and he felt it ebb a bit. And then he found himself telling her everything
out of guilt and she just smiled at him and listened. And when he was done, she
kissed him and he felt the shame leave him. He knew then for sure, he was
keeping her besides him for as long as humanly possible and maybe even further.
 
26 - Adoration
            He often sees Altáriel looking at him during ‘court’, where the
subjects come to express their problems for him to solve or where criminals are
sentenced, and finds the look intriguing. He spends time watching her from the
corner of his eye, wondering what it is he’s seeing in her eyes. The answer
comes from a case, when he sees the look on someone else’s eyes and finds its
meaning: adoration. Adoration….adoration that only appears during court.
Adoration for what? And then he sees her eyes shine more and recognizes she’s
reacting to his authority. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense. She’s never
had any control in her life, it’s no wonder she admires and adores him for the
authority he holds.
 
27 - Waves
            Altáriel told him one evening during his hot bath (which she always
insisted on joining him in) that the bathtub was huge and she thought it was
like the ocean. He found her comment odd, then realized she had never seen the
real ocean in her life, had probably never swam before. The comment gave him an
idea of an activity. The unused courtyard had held a pond years ago; it was
drained long ago. He sent the gardeners to clean and fill it with clean water.
After buying her a cute little black bathing suit, a one piece, he set about
the task of trying to teach her to swim, at least good enough to stay afloat.
He remembered only a little of his own learning to swim from a nanny assigned
to him by his mother. He had been older than her, he supposed but he knew she
could learn. He was patient with her, spending the next few weeks teaching her
slowly until she was confident. He never told her the reason he was teaching
her.
            Then one Sunday, he took her for a picnic on the beach, and let her
see the ocean for herself for the first time. Her eyes were wide as she watched
the waves with him and even wider when he went swimming with her in it. Some
waves broke over her head in the beginning, but his hand held her and she
didn’t panic too much. When she caught him off guard and splashed him in the
face after another wave, he had to laugh. The smile on her face would be
forever captured in his mind: another precious memory of her.
 
28 - Apologize
            He hadn’t meant to do it. It had truly been just a slip around her,
something he had long tried to avoid. He had been in a bad mood all day: he
work up with his back hurting, the cook burned the pastries for breakfast, the
cellar had run out of his favorite wine, the stupid guard was over an hour late
to court which delayed him, and then everyone in court seemed to have some
stupid problem that wasn’t even worth his time. Because court ran late, he was
late to lunch, which was cold by the time he got there, then the advisors for
his afternoon meetings had all been unprepared which led to more frustration,
then dinner which had supposed to be roast beef was sausages due to a
miscommunication on the part of his page, and, worse yet, dessert was lacking.
To top it all off, Altáriel had woken feeling ill and the doctor had confined
her to bed all day, relieving him of the one thing that could release some of
his pent up frustration. So when the day was done and he was trying to relax at
the end of the day with her, now that she was a bit better, and she
accidentally dropped (and thus broke) that gilded teacup, he lost it. It
normally wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest; today it was the last
straw.
            He had hit her, smacked her across the face and called her an
‘idiot’ before stalking out. He only got halfway down the hallway before he
regretted the action immediately; after all the collection of things that went
wrong were in no way her fault. He found himself sitting in the library
afterwards, wondering what to do. He was a Lord, apologizing was something he
never did (he couldn’t actually recall the last time he had if he had ever done
so at all) and yet he knew it was needed in this case. His eyes wandered,
searching for and idea - and he found one in the cover of a book. A late night
call was made to an employee for a long term project, a second to the new page
concerning tomorrow, and then he headed off into the night with only a sole
guard besides him. He didn’t return until morning had just about arrived. He
was exhausted, slightly wet, and dirty but he was sure it was worth it in the
end.
            When Altáriel woke that next morning in her own room, having
retreated soon after his ‘blowout’, for a moment she didn’t recognize her
surroundings. Sitting up, she took another look and felt her mouth drop. The
previously bare shelves, dresser tops, vanities, and such had all been filled
with tens of vases all brimming with hundreds maybe thousands of flowers in
every shape, color, and size there could ever be. Open mouthed, she let her
eyes wander the room from one side to the other, unbelieving of what she was
seeing. The biggest surprise, though, was that he was sitting on the foot of
her bed, doing something with his hands that she couldn’t quite see at first,
but soon realized he was weaving flowers into something. Curious, she leaned
forward a bit, only to be stopped by his finger on her nose. In an instant, the
creation was placed upon her head: a wreath of silver flowers. She felt herself
blush and her eyes met his in a silent question. A hand gently cupped the still
slightly sore cheek and then he whispered the unthinkable into her ear and she
smiled. It was easy to drift back asleep with the scent of flowers in the air
and his arms around her.
 
29 - Waiting
            She hates waiting for him those nights; hates it, hates it, hates
it. Altáriel finds she has nothing to do but just wait for him. Night meetings
are uncommon - he only usually has one or two a month and she is banned from
them. They’re about war, spying, betrayal, executions, and other such thing he
thinks she’s too young to hear about and for once she agrees with him. So, she
lays and waits for him in his room, normally on his bed. The minutes and hours
tick by so slowly and the books she normally loves to read can’t seem to hold
her attention.  When he returned, it was always a greeting, some tea and
cookies, a little quite time where she reads and he does paperwork, and then
off to bed (or usually ‘night activities’ and then bed)
            …so in her boredom one such evening, she made a game up for herself
to play based upon this routine. Could she find the right thing to wear and the
right way to lay to get him to skip from the greeting right to the ‘night
activities’ without having to do the things in-between? It wouldn’t be too easy
as he didn’t like skipping that evening paperwork (it meant he had to get up
even earlier in the morning to do it when he did) but, heck, she was going to
try! So she picked out the most revealing piece of black lingerie she could
find in her drawers and let her hair fall just so. Finding a nice pose to
strike on the bed was the hardest part. Now all she had to do was wait for him
to open the door and then gaze at him with those bedroom eyes of hers…
 
30 - Glitter
            He couldn’t understand why everyone was looking at him so oddly
this morning. The subjects for morning court one after another were all looking
at him oddly. Some guards were sneaking a glace at him every minute or so and a
few maids seemed just inches away from bursting out into laughter. He didn’t
get it. His clothes were the same, his crown the same, his goatee trimmed
properly… what was it? Sure he had rushed this morning through his bath and
hadn’t the time to check his hair in the mirror before he left but he had
combed it numerous times - it couldn’t look that bad when it felt like it was
in the right alignment.
            He wished Altáriel was sitting besides him, as she would tell him,
but his little houseguest was spending the morning in the kitchen baking. After
her early morning excursion some time ago, he’s agreed to let her spend a day
or maybe two a week having some time to bake in the kitchen under supervision,
provided she let him eat the results. He did miss her next to him, but her
baking skills were extraordinary, to say the least. He was looking forward to
lunch.
            The stares continued at lunch and he honestly felt like snapping at
all of them, asking what they were staring at. He had just about had enough
when she arrived with a tray full of cookies and a small cake. She stated going
on about what she made, pointing to the plate, and he grabbed a handful. Her
eyes turned to him and she stopped talking suddenly, eyes going wide. She stood
there silent for a moment, then the giggles started and escalated until she was
half collapsed on the floor with laughter. He easily scooped her from the floor
onto his lap with one hand.
            “What in the world is so funny?”  /Your hair…./  “My hair?”  /You
were in a rush, weren’t you?/  “What does that have to do with my hair?”  /
You’ve used my ‘special’ shampoo…You know, the party shampoo?/  “…”  /Your
hair’s full of glitter…./
            He vowed to never take a bath in the morning again after catching
sight of himself in a mirror immediately after, although having her wash his
hair out wasn’t such a bad thing….
 
31 - Watch
            She watches in silence at his side. He hates gathering, but they
are a necessity sometimes. Visiting Argenta’s neighbors on political business,
there is always a gathering - a party. It’s filled with loud music, singing,
and dancing. He hates the music and singing: such things he has banned from
Argenta. Altáriel has had to real exposure to any of the three, so she watches
in silence and in awe. She finds some music enjoyable, but not much. She
doesn’t like the singers’ voices too much. It’s the dancing which captivates
her, though. The nobles dance across the floor with such ease and grace, it’s
beautiful to her. He notices her watching with that look in her eyes and
wonders. And he surprises her when a softer song comes along that isn’t
accompanied by too much singing when he takes her hand and leads her onto the
floor. He finds himself dancing with her, dancing for the first time in
decades, just to see her smile at him like that.
 
32 - Regret
            He finds himself staring at her back one night after their his
normal bath (which has become her normal bath too). Although the passage of
some time and some care from the doctors has healed most of the damage of her
body, scars still remain on her back where they were the deepest. He finds
himself in the routine of staring at them transfixed until she tries to put her
top on, which is where he stops her and insists on putting the specialty cream
on them, even though he knows it will most likely not fade them any further.
Altáriel always turns and tells him not to dwell on it, not to regret it: it
isn’t his fault she has these scars. Her words soothe his conscious little, but
he always smiles at her and nods anyway. Late at night, when she lies sleeping
in his arms, he tells himself she would have never been marred if he had
snatched her that day they first met and insisted she never leave him.
 
33 - Plain
            When Altáriel first arrived, he gave her a closet full of clothes
of every color, style, and sort. It was lovely to see her smile when she saw
them all neatly lined up in her closet and drawers. There were lavish dresses,
ball gowns, evening clothes, and even clothes from countries across the sea and
beyond all for her. She used to pick out her own outfits everyday but after a
month of her being here in his palace with him, he noticed her trend. She never
once wore of her own volition those extravagant gowns that any other woman
would have fawned over. She never wore ball gowns, never wore evening clothes,
never those lavish dresses, or the ones with the multiple layers or intricate
designs. She only wore the plain clothes.
            He wondered why for only a moment before the realization that her
past trauma had perhaps left her feeling unworthy of wearing anything other
than those plain clothes. From then on, he personally picked her clothes for
each and every day, dolling and dressing her up like the beautiful young girl
she was. And everyday he’d tell her she was beautiful and so above those plain
clothes her closet no longer holds.
 
34 - Shy
            Some nights, he dreams of their first meeting. It was a ball he had
thrown to celebrate the subjugation of a small nearby country that had been
then added to Argenta’s land. All of the nobles and high class citizens and
their families had been invited, her father among them. The nobles and high
class went about their normal routine of greeting him early in the evening and
then avoiding him for the rest of the night. They socialized among themselves
all night long. The children brought normally avoided him like the plague,
terrified of him, too shy to be near him. Not Altáriel.
            He had been up to get more desserts from the banquet table and was
reaching for that last slice of cake when she had tugged on his pant leg. Only
5, she was far too short to reach the top of the table. A normal child would
have never dared, but not her. She had been brazen enough to ask him, nicely be
it, to give her a piece of cake. He didn’t know, looking back, why he had given
her the last piece of cake. The cheeky little girl hadn’t been shy at all; if
fact she had followed him back to his corner from the table and sat down
besides him and then offered to share the cake with him. If he was shocked
then, her next words were even more of a surprise.
            That little girl, only five had insisted, not said by insisted that
when she grew up, she was going to be his next bride. He had laughed at first,
but she hadn’t backed down in the slightest. To humor her more than anything
else, he had gifted to her a necklace emblazoned with his crest, a gift he gave
all the women he was interested in. He had never expected her to actually try
and fulfill that request. But three years later, here she was with him, still
too young to be a bride, but still wanting to be one. He didn’t want to know
what might have happened if he had never given her that cake…
 
35 - Moonlight
            He told Altáriel once that she was most beautiful under the
moonlight. She had looked at him with adoration and confusion in her eyes and
he had elaborated how only the serene and calm moonlight made her shine. In the
silvery moonlight her red-orange hair seemed to glow like fire, her emerald
eyes were like jewels of an incomparable cut, her soft skin the most
luminescent, and her cute little pink lips shimming. Her face had gone pink and
she had hung her head in embarrassment. Her rose her gaze back up to his with
kisses along her forehead, then cheeks, then chin. In a whisper meant for her
alone he had told her the best part: in the silver moonlight, she looked the
best for everything silver in Argenta belonged to him.
 
36 - Melt
            He found more often than not his back was bothering him at night,
hindering his sleep. He tried a new mattress, adding pillows under his back,
and every sleeping position he could think of that still allowed him to hold
Altáriel: nothing seemed to work. The doctor, in a meek voice, told him it was
just his body getting old and there was no medicine or treatment for that. He
dismissed the doctor in a rage, unsure of what to do next. He was barely
sleeping now and so his mind turned from cures for his pain to sleeping cures.
A hot bath before bed, warm tea, warm milk, even poppy juice failed to lull him
into sleep for long. Completely exhausted, he just laid in bed all day the next
day, waiting for the sleep that eluded him.
            It was then that she joined him, but instead of retreating to his
arms like normal she moved behind him, to hold his head in her small lap. Her
green eyes met his with unexpected meekness as she asked if she could try
something. Only when he insisted that no matter what it was he wouldn’t be
angry with her did she nod and agree. And then she started humming which turned
into singing, which he despised normally, but somehow it didn’t seem so awful
when it was her voice. The very tone of her voice seemed to relax him and he
felt as if he were melting into her arms. He barely caught some of the words,
but caught enough to know it was a lullaby. He thought he remembered it from
sometime long ago, but had forgotten the ending so he tried to listen to it. By
the time she reached the ending, however, he was fast asleep against her and
for the first time in a long time, his sleep went interrupted.
 
37 - Half
            It’s kind of easy, he notices one day, to compare the two of them
using halves. Altáriel is half his height about and just about half his weight
too. She’s far less than half his age though. His hair is half as long as hers
is as is his patience. She knows less than half his servants whom he knows all
while he knows less than half about cooking and baking that what she does.
Their love of sweets is almost equal. In just another year, she will have known
him for half her life and dreamed about him for that long too. In comparison,
he’s known her for far less but it sure feels like more than half to him.
 
38 - Neutral
            He tries (although he often fails) to be objective when dealing
with matters between his many servants. It helps to settle the arguments easier
when he’s no predisposed to take a side, when he remains neutral. He does fail
often, but he also has his successes. Altáriel, when she listens in, is almost
always neutral. It seems to come easier to her and he often finds himself
whispering to her when he can’t be neutral to ask her what she thinks. It’s a
surprise then, that winter day, to see her so irate so early on in a argument
between two servants, so not neutral at all. Her disgust with the male knight
is as apparent as the sun on a clear day and it’s making that servant angry.
It’s fine for him to just watch, letting her settle the dispute, at least until
the knight loses his temper completely. With a growl, the knight shoves her
easily, she still being a child, and she falls backwards and stumbles into the
pond in the courtyard behind her. Guards quickly restrain and escort both
servants away, but its not them that need his attention: it’s her. Her swimming
still needs some work and in her long flowing gown, she has to fight to keep
her head above the water. Before another guard can arrive, he’s in the water,
grabbing her arm and bringing her to him, letting her clutch against his not
soaking wet clothes as he pulls them both ashore. She shakes for a moment, then
throws her arms around his neck in a half-sob. He just holds her tight. He’s
cold, but right now this is more important to him.
 
39 - Leave
            His stint in the water chilled him and he awakens days later
feeling awful. For days, he just lies in bed, feeling worse and worse. She sits
besides him, her hands round his, with a terrified expression upon her face.
Seeing her face, he wonders if he really looks that bad and if this will be his
end. The doctor can only give him medicine for the fever that sporadically
appears, nothing more; the rest he must weather himself. But he feels so awful
one night, cold and barely breathing and he feels as if death has come for him
at last. There seems to be nothing that can wake him from the void and he
almost feels himself let go - except something warm is dripping onto his hand.
It feels odd and the curiosity draws him back a bit, back to the point where he
can crack his eyes open a smidge to see what the dripping thing is. It’s
Altáriel, who hasn’t moved from her spot at his side. It’s Altáriel, whose
crying almost hysterically, warm tears running down her face to drip onto the
hand she won’t release. And there’s a whispered thing she keeps saying over and
over barely audible to him, but he hears it and he knows he can’t go.
/Please don’t leave me. Please don’t let him leave. Please don’t take the only
good thing in my life./
 
40 - Pitiful
            Pitiful. It was the one word he could use to accurately sum up the
life she had had before she came to be with him. Just pitiful. She had been
deprived of everything a normal girl should have had and treated in an inhumane
way. She had been deprived of basic things. When she arrived at the palace, he
had made a silent vow to give her everything she wanted that he could give her.
His Altáriel got lavished with gifts, clothes, food, and more - anything a girl
could really ever dream of. He hoped that one day, it might drive the memories
of her pitiful and painful childhood from her mind.
 
41 - Winter
            Winter in Argenta is cold and snow-filled. The long winding
hallways of the palace and the many large rooms seem to make it even colder,
seem to keep the chill in the air. There are few rooms with fireplaces, most of
them out of the way or un-useful for most of his needed activities. He’s
learned to wear extra layers and thicker cloaks to block the cold out, to drink
warm drinks more often, and to not sit still as much. Altáriel is not used to
dealing with the cold, she’s instead used to always being cold. The first truly
cold day she was still barefoot and still in one of the lovely silk dresses he
gave her. He left breakfast to return her to her room, to change her clothes
into three layers instead of just one. He made her wear stockings and socks and
shoes (or slippers) and then added a decorative jacket over her whole ensemble.
He stuck furry gloves into her pockets for when her hands would get chilled
later in the day. She still felt slightly cold to him, so he used it as an
excuse to hug her and not let her go, even after her whole face had turned such
a lovely shade of scarlet. They were late leaving breakfast, but at least he
didn’t have to worry about her freezing during the winter.
 
42 - Flowers
            When spring came, he found a day to slip away from her to visit the
extra gardener he’d hired months ago after his little slip-up with her. The
courtyard had been boarded up for the winter, to keep the cold from it out of
the palace and he had yet to order the obstructions removed for a good reason:
the once barren area was now fully abloom with flowers. He didn’t like flowers
that much at all - the garden he had ordered done for one reason and one reason
only: Altáriel. It was to be his gift for her birthday, something that he knew
she’d love more than anything. It would give her a place to go when she was
bored with court. He knew she’d never really gotten a real birthday present
before and he was hoping it would be something special for her. In truth, it
would be the first sincere gift he’d ever given anyone for their birthday…
            It was hard to keep the secret for the next few weeks and even
harder to explain why the boarding was still up to the curious servants. He
eventually had to tell everyone there was an infestation of poisonous wasps in
the old fountain that were being dealt with; all questions stopped after that.
He purposely tried to not mention her birthday at all around her, tried to give
her the impression that he’d forgotten completely. In secret, he ordered a cake
from the best baker in the country (to be kept an absolute secret and to be
delivered on the morning of the day to him, directly) and had a special dress
made for her in black, silver, and purple. On that day, he slipped out of bed
early to meet the baker and had the guards quietly tear down the boards. He set
the cake up in the courtyard under a glass case on the table, then returned to
his room before she awoke. He acted like it was a normal day as he had her wear
the new dress and then led her to breakfast. Then he discreetly laced her
morning tea with a combination of the doctor’s best sleeping remedy and poppy
juice so she was out cold before she had half finished the cup. Then he picked
her up and brought her into the courtyard garden and laid her down among the
flowers. He took a seat at the table - all that was left to do was wait.
 
43 - Speak
            Altáriel woke to the sounds of birds and the sweet aroma of
flowers. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see she was surrounded on all
sides with flowers of every variety she could possibly imagine. She was outside
in maybe a meadow... Her mouth dropped open in awe and she slowly sat herself
up. She looked around and stopped - not outside truly…still within the place
walls. The courtyard, she realized as she studied the walls around her. But
how? It had been dead for years. Her eyes slowly wandered around the room, then
stopped. A very familiar someone was half lounging in a chair by a table, that
tell-tale smirk upon his face. There was something sitting on the table in
front of him, something in what looked like glass? Curious, she rose to her
feet and wandered over. She was glad there was a second chair nearby to
collapse into, for when she examined the object her legs became like gelatin
and gave out on her.
            A cake emblazoned with flowers in delicate cream and wonderful
script. Script which clearly said ‘Happy Birthday Altáriel’. A cake for her?
And he was looking at her, then the cake, and then the garden in silence and
she understood. Not just a cake for her, an entire garden for her. The
nonchalant attitude, the dress, and her sleepiness at breakfast all suddenly
made sense to her and she felt her eyes fill with tears: hot tears she couldn’t
seem to stop from cascading down her cheeks in rivers even as she smiled more
than she’d ever remembered. And then he was standing next to her, speaking
quietly into her ear thinks she’d never heard him say before but thing she was
sure she wanted to hear him speak over and over again.
            She knew right then and there for sure that no matter what
happened, he would never let her go, never let her be anything but his - and it
was more than she could have ever asked or hoped for.
 
44 - Gentle
            It was hard to restrain himself, so hard -especially when she would
grab at him and press herself even closer to him. Altáriel was just too
beautiful, too lovely. It felt better than any other time he’d been with any
other woman when he was with her; he couldn’t quite understand why. Perhaps it
was because for the first time he actually loved the girl beneath him? He kept
reminding himself in his head over and over again, even as the pleasure
threaten to take full hold /Gentle. Gentle. Gentle./  Even if she begged,
moaned, or screamed for it, for now that was all he wanted to be  - gentle.
 
45 - Last
            He has had countless wives, countless brides in his life. The first
had been when he was young and had foolishly believed that the semi-pretty
young girl had loved him - it had last three week before they had had enough of
one another and she had stayed for only another year before running off with a
traveling musician. After her, he had stopped trying to pick his brides out of
love. He married again and again for one purpose: a son. They got two tries
each, and when they had failed twice (either though having girls or
miscarriages), he had them removed from sight, the marriage annulled, and then
tossed into the mines. And then it was on to the next girl, the next wife for
years and years. The same tired courtship, the same boring dull wedding, and
the same unexciting married life over and over and over again.
            It’s changed now. He hasn’t had a bride since a month before
Altáriel came to stay with him -it’s the longest he’s ever gone without being
married that he could be married. Altáriel is still too young to get married,
but he doesn’t mind waiting. He knows her heart isn’t going to change and
neither will his. He’s not going to do the same courtship again, in fact he’s
already planned some of it in his head even now. It won’t be a quick wedding -
he can see her wreathed in flowers and silver. He no longer cares if in the
future when that bright eyed girl can be truly called “his” only has daughters,
just her will be enough. He’s never felt this way before. And he knows, in the
deepest part of his heart, that come what may she will be his last bride - he
will take no other after her.
 
46 - Dew
            He awakens one morning alone with the place beside him cold, which
is odd since Altáriel always stays with him, always is there when he wakes
either still asleep in his arms or awake and showing him with kisses. Her
absence makes him uneasy, and he’s up and looking through the adjoining rooms
for her before long. But no Altáriel. A check of her closet reveals all her
clothes still in place - only a pair of silk slippers are missing and, oddly,
the basket from the table which holds the fresh fruit (the fruit has been
placed in a bowl). In a rush for some reason he can’t explain, he dresses and
practically dashes down the hallways in search of her.
            He finds her in the kitchen, surrounded by dirty bowls in piles.
The basket rests on the countertop, now empty save a trace of dew-dripped
leaves that appear to have come from some flower. She sits on a stool, watching
something in the oven will rapt attention - her slightly wavy red hair is
filled with water droplets. Dew, he realizes, from the very early morning
sprinkle of rain. It’s along the top of her nightgown as well. He relaxes a
bit, not realizing just how tense he was until a moment ago, to find her
alright. He walks next to her and uses the handkerchief in his pocket to dry
some of her hair and then wipe the smudge of flour from her cheek. She just
smiles at him with that smile that says she’s got something special in store.
With a kiss to her forehead, he heads out to the dining room for breakfast.
            Ten minutes into breakfast she arrives with a different basket in
hand, overflowing with small round fluffy cakes. He reaches to grab one but she
moves the basket out of reach and just picks one off the top & holds it out to
him. He looks at her oddly for a moment, then takes the offered cake and pops
it into his mouth. It’s still warm and so sweet and from the center warm honey
seeps out. The taste is beyond anything he’s ever tried before and he takes
what seems like hours to just eat that one cake. Her grin is a mile wide as she
moves closer to sit on his lap, the basket of cakes still out of reach in her
hand, as she leans in to whisper the name of the cakes to him. He smiles at
her: he has a feeling that one day she’ll be naming a daughter that name.
 
47 - Night
            Night was their favorite time. Argenta itself was known as the
country of silver and the country of the night. His castle was called the
Castle of the Night. Night was the one time he knew Altáriel would be beside
him, the one time of day he didn’t need to wonder where she’d be. He knew she’d
be in his arms. She knew at night, his attention would be on her and only her.
Night was a time for them to enjoy each other and forget about the rest of the
world’s problems. And night would always be filled with passion, love, and
sweet dreams.
 
48 - Footsteps
            He remembered always hearing her footsteps in the hallway as she
headed from her room to his. At first Altáriel was too short to reach the
doorknob of the door between their rooms, so she always walked around. He used
to hear her bare feet padding against the stone floor. He bought her slippers
to wear, worried about the chill she would get from the icy floor. From then
on, he would hear the soft padding of her slippers at night.
            When she became a teenager, he had bought her heeled shoes, tiny
ones at first. She was so awkward in them, tripping more than actually walking
but he stood beside her and helped her learn to walk in them. When she was
better at it, he eventually bought her higher and higher heels until she wore
normal shoes. He loved to hear the click of her shoes on the floor, her gentle
footsteps. It was a constant reminder to him that she was growing older and
getting closer to being fully his.
 
49 - End
            He finds himself staring at her. It’s been many years since she
first came to live with him. Altáriel showed up a his doorstep as a young and
defeated child and now she stands before him as a beautiful young woman. The
harsh years of her past have been soothed away under his care, the sorrows
buried, forgotten, and replaced with happy memories. She’s grown so much not
only in personality and height but in beauty as well.
            Her childhood has at last come to an end - an end that marks the
beginning of the next chapters of their lives. At least, that’s what he
whispers to her softly that night as he slips the sparkling engagement ring on
her finger between kisses.
 
50 - Use Me
            Use me - they were the first two words she spoke to him when she
arrived all those years ago after all that silence. What she had meant then was
up for interpretation - when she says it now, he knows what Altáriel means.
It’s almost become a nightly ritual for them, a way for him to further mark her
as his, beyond the ring she wears and the vows they made. He’s always kind and
she always seems eager. This night is no different.
            When he finishes their last round and snuggles beside her to
continue their ritual of falling asleep in each others arms, she changes her
normal position and leans over to whisper in his ear. He smiles and kisses her
softly, hands moving to hold her stomach softly. He wonders to himself as he
falls asleep if it’ll be the son he spent his whole life longing for or a
daughter. But then, he thinks, it won’t matter at all - it will be his and
Altáriel’s and that’s the only thing that will really matter. He’s struck by a
sudden thought - maybe that statement is true after all. You are never too old
to fall in love.
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