A Court of Sun and Flame

CHAPTER ONE

  "We are made of memories"

~ A Song of Achilles

TRIGGER WARNINGS: RAPE (IN BOLD ITALLICS), TRAUMA 

Just like every other day, I awaken from my nightmares drowning in sweat, to the sound of the wooden doors that lead to my humble abode being opened and slammed shut. I've lost count of the days, the months, maybe even years that I have been here, but from my eavesdropping it's been far too long for anybody who maybe once cared about my life, to still care now. My usual visitor appears in front of me, with a tray of what can't even be considered food, but it's either this or starve to death and I can't let them win. If I let them win then everything I have survived was for nought.

Me and my visitor don't communicate much, I think he's still adjusting to life in this time. He just gives me my tray and sits and observes me, like he is trying to figure out what is so special about me. If he figures it out, I hope he tells me, because I don't feel as special as what my mum made me out to be. Not now anyway, I've not had a decent clean in years and my hair has grown too long for my liking, it used to be so short so that my true heritage remained hidden, whereas now it's reached my breast. Mum didn't want people seeing the orange strands at the front of my hair, in fear of us being kicked out of the camp and left to fend for ourselves. We could have found a way around it if the main part of my hair wasn't black. I suppose that is what he is trying to figure out, how a fae of Illyrian blood could have bright orange hair.

It's nice to have a companion after so long of being alone, but it makes me long for the friends I made at the temple of Sangravah, before it was sacked, and me taken to my new home. Not that you can really call a cell a home, but I suppose anyone who is as broken as me, would consider living in a dungeon for God knows how long a home.

"So is today the day where we have an actual conversation or will it be one-sided?" My voice isn't the same as what it used to be from the lack of use through the years trapped down here, it is too croaky for my liking, makes me sound like a toad. I don't expect him to answer, but just like every other time he has bought me food, I ask, it would be nice to have some form of conversation during these visits. I know I shouldn't be conversing with the enemy, but can someone really be considered an enemy if they look as lonely as you even though they get to wander around and see what is above me. I don't even remember what any of that looks like, half the time I have to remind myself of my name.

They can't break me completely if I still remember the name my mother gave me, Aurelia, she would also tell me it meant 'golden one' and claimed that I would be different from all the others. I always thought she was talking about my father, but after my one and only encounter with him, I know that cannot be what she meant, for if she did, then I have failed her. My mother was a dreamer. Me? Well how can someone be a dreamer when their life has gone to shit? How can someone dream, when they don't see a light at the end of the tunnel? How can someone dream, when they can't even see daylight? If I were to dream, it would be for that, to see daylight, to be able to enjoy the sun and everything that the surface has to offer. But I can't, and so I don't dream of that. Dreams provide someone with hope, and for me all hope is lost.

"Your hair confuses me," I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost missed what he said, but my head shoots up from the tray of the questionable contents that I am supposed to shove down my throat and tilt my head in confusion. In all the times he has come to visit, he has not said a word, I don't even know his name. Upon seeing my face, he quickly stands to leave. As he reaches the corridor that I assume will lead him to the exit, he whispers "you may want to eat before the guard comes and takes it away." The mention of the guard makes me tense in fear, but I devour the food and leave the tray by the bars and move myself to the opposite side of my cell. I curl myself into a ball and pray that they don't decide that today they will enter to torment me. I hear the creak of the door along with hushed conversation and know the guard is on his way.

I know that my plan has failed when I hear the clacking of the guards keys, as he unlocks the cell.

He doesn't say anything, as he stalks towards me.

The sound of his boots is deafening.

My whole body begins to shake as he crouches beside me.

He reaches his hand out and brushes my hair out of my face.

The smile on his face shows he knows what he is doing.

He leans forward.

His lips graze my right ear and he whispers, "Let's have some fun."

My world comes crashing back to that night. The night I was taken from my friend. Gwyn. I wonder if she is safe. I pray that she isn't on this island. I pray to the mother. I pray to the cauldron. I pray to anyone who will listen that she isn't enduring this.

Gwyn is preparing for her anointment. I already had mine and have been a full fledged priestess for the past year and now it is Gwyn's turn. She looks so happy and my heart feels full, I have not been this at peace since before I turned 16. It was coming up to the time in which she was to leave for the ceremony. I should already be sitting down waiting for her arrival but I want to wish her luck. I am almost at her door when the commotion begins. I'm sure you can hear the screams from the other side of the world. No wind, or sea would be able to contain the screams of anguish.

I go to barge into Gwyn's room when one of my wings is pulled. I fell to the floor because of the force. I try to turn to see who my attacker is, but they won't allow it, whoever it was knew that I would be here. They were prepared for an Illyrian to be at the temple. They have bound my wings, I can't pull away, I can't save myself, not without using my powers. But I forbid myself from using them.

I would not use the powers my father gave me. He didn't want anything to do with me. He abandoned my mother. He rejected their mating bond, forsaking her to our camp and the men that lived there. He left me alone, when I needed him most. I would not use what he gave me, he didn't deserve that. He is not my father. He has never been my father.

My captor stops his pulling and lifts me up onto a table, I try fighting against him, try to break free of his grasp, try to save myself from what I know is about to happen. His smile tells me everything. He knows that he is in control here. He holds all the power. When I feel the movement of his hands, I know there is no use. I let my body go limp and just stare at the ceiling above me, with silent tears rolling down my face. I let him do what he wants. I don't know how he knew I was here, nobody was supposed to know, and yet someone told them. Someone betrayed my trust.

By the time he is done with me, the screams of the other priestesses have quietened. They must have finished with them, whatever that meant for those still alive. My body is still limp, the only way my brain can cope with the horrors that just occurred. Saving me from fully experiencing any of it, let them have their way with me and maybe they will let me live. That hope died as quickly as it shined. Upon realizing I wasn't going to be fighting back anymore, my captor picked me up and carried me to wherever he was planning on getting rid of me.

As we moved he leaned down and whispered in my ear "You are coming with me," my unfocused eyes slowly moved towards him as he continued "we are going to have so much fun together, just you and I. You are mine to play with." and then we were going, away from my home. Away from Gwyn, if she is still alive. Away from everything I've ever loved. Away from my mother. Away from the man that was supposed to be my father. Everything ripped away, by one man... the King of Hybern

Once the King was done with me, he kicked the tray out of my cell and slammed the bars shut, jolting me back to reality. Knowing it was over gave me a sense of relief, I was safe for maybe a week. Not knowing whether or not it is light outside throws away any sense of time and space. I know that there will be seven meals in between now and his next visit, it is always seven. No more, no less. Slowly, the effects of the meal kick in, any sense of power that I had is diminished and my eyes fall shut. I don't even bother fixing my clothes or moving to what is supposed to be my bed. I just stay in the position he left me in. I've spent so long surviving, but I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this. I'm done with surviving. My only options are either to live or to die, but how can I find a way to live in a dungeon that is six feet underground. My last thought before I fall into the realm of unconsciousness is 'Where is a ball of light when you're drowning in a sea of darkness'.