One can say hardships bring opportunities. So as it was for Vrona.
Unknown of how many days had passed, when consciousness took hold of the demoness, all she could feel was a searing pain radiating from her back, continuing to immobilized her, scorching her memory. The air was filled with an odd mix of smells: minty, earthy, bitter.
Creaking open the eyes that wished to remain closed, the demoness took in the unfamiliar sight. A new set of bars in front, not a single window to whisk in air. On a less padded bed than the last, a smaller space than before, no guards around. She assumed the guards were past the set of doors behind the bars, avoiding any attempt to have them manipulated or overpowered.
The Demon King's fury could be seen in petty ways, removing her comforts, removing any connection, removing any bit of freedom or hope of freedom she could wish for.
Stretching out her wings, she tried to free them, let them wave. Oh what a wishful thought, her mind playing tricks with phantom limbs. Behind her, there was no shadow shielding her from the truth. There was nothing, letting the truth seep into her core. Turning her head away from the prison entrance, she closed her eyes, feeling the emptiness of her heartbeats against her chest. Each heartbeat plunging pain throughout her.
Soon, she heard a creak of the locks and then another, but didn't bother to turn around and look as the soft steps and shuffling sounds of cloth grew louder towards her. The mysterious figure set down a heavy thunk in the table beside Vrona, followed by a dripping rush of water, as if squeezing a soaked cloth.
The stranger removed a sheet covering Vrona's back and wiped her back clean. Vrona had hoped to feign sleep, however, the shock of pain at each wipe made her flinch with tight fists. When the process was finished, she breathed in slow, shaky, attempting to breathe through the pain.
Just when she thought all of it was over, the stranger swiped a wet substance all over her back, greatly stinging the two sections of her back where her wings would have been. Gripping tightly on the bedsheets, she swung to the side and looked at the stranger sharp in the eye with a glare. Her glare eased as a feeling of familiarity set in looking at the demon, and then her stare shifted towards the substance the stranger held inside a bowl.
It was green, muddy, did not look pleasant to the eye in the least. But she figured out where the odd smell had come from. The bowl was offered to the demoness, gesturing for her to check it. And checking, she did.
Pinching the green, slimy paste between her thumb and index finger, smelling the faint notes, she recognized the concoction was made of all medicinal herbs. For pain, inflammation, some disinfectant. Splashing her finger in the now-used water bowl beside her, moderately cleaning her fingers, she said, "Put turmeric and raisenhord fruit puree in that next time," and laid back down, letting the servant finish applying the paste on her numbing back before laying a fresh cloth over the hardening substance and taking their leave.
The same servant had come many times after, repeating the same process, listening to Vrona's requests quite impressively. When asked about how they were able to retrieve the ingredients in such quick times, the servant simply smiled, bowed, and left the room.
One day, the servant came with not only medicine, but a request. No deep details, they offered a note secretly to the demoness. The note had asked if the demoness knew herbs and medicine for a cough, for a disease that eats a demon from the inside. As secretly, the demoness wrote back, stating she'd let the servant know of ingredients and herbal mixes if the servant could provide her with herbs for herself, not to use for treatment.
Surprisingly, the servant smiled and nodded with confidence. As if they were somehow capable of providing all this in the king's blind eye. Since, an unusual relationship developed between the two of secrecy yet trust. Offering ingredients and medicine back and forth, they'd formed a trade and grew closer.
A silent evening, months later, as the bandages on the demoness's scars were removed, the servant drew on the demoness's bare back. Rather than pictures, they were letters. Each long, slow, pronounced.
The letters together read: Do you wish to join the rebels?
Vrona was in a seated position, hunched over the front. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder at the servant, who looked back calmly, and then glanced quickly toward the empty door, making sure it was closed and they were unseen.
Pretending to wipe salve onto the demoness's back, they continued to write against her skin, explaining that they were there when she had first been captured— that they were the servant used as a wager by the king for information from the demoness. The servant had already learned about the elf child, had witnessed her attempted escape, had made plans to serve her treatment with the Head of Staff at the palace— who was also a part of the rebels.
The servant wrote on Vrona's wingless back: I will help you escape. In return, help us remove the king from his title.
From then on, secrets started to dissipate, they shared stories they held back. Of how the servant's town succumbed to disease. Of how Vrona had taken care of the elf child. Eventually, the servant softly dropped a pouch beside the demoness. Assuming they were the requested ingredients, Vrona loosened the drawstring opening lazily— only to find familiar sachets, herbs, and such from the day she was captured years ago.
The servant had silently kept hold of Vrona's old belongings, hoping it could come of use in the future. And that day, finally, the servant had been able to stealthily bring the items. Wide eyed, the demoness started to frantically search through her old belongings until— she pulled out a small length of white hair from within a sachet filled with sweet leaves.
Holding the white thread between her fingers, the only trace she had of the elf, she almost cried, feeling a new pull of determination.
As the wound on Vrona's back healed, the servant continued to serve Vrona, deepening their acquaintanceship, their friendship. Vrona had began to train within the cell, learning to move herself quickly, efficiently. Gaining strength, learning to fight. She tested spells upon spells, developing new ones, and ones unthought of by the world.
The infamous day years later with the servant's help, Vrona had gambled. Using the elf's white hair in her spell as a guide, if the prince had successfully teleported, her elf child was still alive. If the spell had failed—
That infamous day, the demon prince had teleported away, and the former Queen had escaped the palace.
YOU ARE READING
The Demon and the Elf (Book 1)
Fantasy[mlm] The lonely Elf had waited many years to meet his bonded mate, but reality was harsher than he would have liked when he finds out his mate is not only a Demon, but the Demon wants nothing to do with him. [Part 1/Book 1 complete. Follow the stor...
