[private] Through thick and thin

[leuce]

She does not know how to recognize the sting of appraisal. She looks up at him and he looks back at her and it does not occur to her to wonder what he’s thinking. She holds her breath, hoping with everything he has that he’ll say her mother sent him to fetch her and take her home. 

But this is not the answer he offers and everything in her collapses around grief. 

(It cannot be healthy for children to drag themselves through the minefield of grief so young. Leuce has hardly opened her eyes, she has been alone only hours still, and this is her first taste of the world: cold mourning.)

Her mother is gone. Her mother had not exuded any amount of warmth but she had been her mother, the only soul in the world who was familiar. And now he’s standing over her telling her that her mother is gone, but there is some other family who will want her. (She does not know what family means, but she cannot ignore the tendril of warmth that snakes through her veins when he tells her that she’ll be wanted.)

She looks to the faeries, uncertain, and they nod emphatically. This is the natural order of things. The children come here, lost and abandoned, and wait for someone to want them. Yes, they tell her, go with him, child. 

She looks back up at the stallion and swallows hard, hesitating only slightly before she hauls herself to her feet. Her knees tremble as she stands there, eyes downcast. 

“Okay,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Okay, I’ll go.” 

i feel the sun coming up, rising from the east
and i see the empire falling to her knees
and i lost the line between her and me

Leuce