Don't make him the villain

3- Let the shadows speak

The commotion in the halls wasn't loud enough to stir you away from the armchair you had fixed yourself to for the last few days, still wearing your white nightgown, mindlessly reading about ravkan royalty, your eyes scanning the words without registering any of it.

The sun summoner had reappeared from hiding. Causing quite a commotion from the apparat and his churches. From what you've been able to inquire from the servants working the Little Palace, cities near the borders have been destroyed, and children were torn away from school to be used as bait.

You couldn't say that you agreed with his methods, he seemed to be so different on the battlefield than in his chambers. Even when he was with you, his mind was elsewhere, scheming, preparing, always ten steps in advance, thinking about the saint. His saint.

How well played of him, he had amassed a saint and a curse. You had the feeling that if he were meant to pick, he'd chose her, every time. It didn't excuse the fact that he was currently using you to cure his loneliness. Although you weren't completely innocent yourself in the matter.

Focusing on the noise outside the doors again, you tried to make out the words being shouted. A servant you had never seen barged in, absolutely not acknowledging your presence. She rushed to the bathing room, which contained a huge bath and too many mirrors. You heard her turn on the water, the smell of wood and chai hitting your nose accompanied with a light steam fogging up the mirrors, turning the room humid.

A grisha followed suit, waiting by the doorframe.

"You have been asked to stay in the guest room tonight. He doesn't want to see you"

The words echoed in your mind. He doesn't want to see me. It hurt more than you would like to admit. Have you done something to displease him? Was this a punishment?

You rose from the armchair, dropping the book on the cushion and followed the grisha out of the Darkling's chambers and into the guest wing, nearly on the other side of the Little Palace. You hated being surrounded and looked upon by grishas, it felt like being paraded as a whore, living among them but never with them.

You settled into the guest bedroom, untouched and cold. Looking out the window, you could see the general coming back on his horse followed by some of the other high ranked army men. His kefta was covered in blood, splattered on his face and hands, he seemed furious. Dangerous.

He handed the reigns to a stableboy and headed inside. A short moment passed where you expected him to come to get you as he always did. That moment passed.

You feared he had started casting you away.

🌑🌓🌕

You watched the shadows dancing on the wall, reflecting by the single candle you had lit in the now dark room. Your black fingers twitched slightly, as if drawn to them, making you remember the time he experimented his powers on you, trying to pull out whatever had slipped inside without success. Secretly, you had wished that whatever he was trying to do wouldn't work, that you could stay like that, just the two of you, with a bond to share. Even though the bond caused moments of pure agony. 

Enough time had passed, you had no clue of how much exactly but guessed around one of two hours, the back and forth of people in the hallways had calmed, the palace now silent. You slipped out of your room, he never asked to lock your doors anymore since you had gained his trust. Walking as quietly as you could, you made your way unnoticed back to his wing, going through the strategy war room, into his own.

He doesn't lock his doors either, he knows no one would dare come inside uninvited. Except you. Only because you had learned not to fear him, killing you meant killing the only chance he got to be with someone who didn't treat him like a monster.