Dull Colours [EDITED EDITION]

Eight | Miolae

Hera woke to a hand softly brushing a stray hair out of her face. She murmured a go away and rolled over. She heard a small chuckle from behind her. "C'mon, time to get up." Hera groaned and opened her eyes. "Jacob." She said by way of greeting. He grinned at Hera. She sat up, struggling a little, but eventually managing it. Hera sniffled and yawned again. She rubbed her eyes, swaying as she adjusted her glasses, gingerly touching the mark they left. Jacob laughed softly. As Hera looked at him, it all came back in a rush, washing over her and filling her
thoughts like a tidal wave of emotion. The war. Hera, a Conjured. Hera coming back. Kissing Jacob. Jacob...
Jacob, who had been a Conjured.
Jacob, who was sitting in front of her with his boyish features and calming brown eyes, as she tried to steady her breathing, refusing to cry. Hera rubbed her eyes again, as if she was tired, not crying - which she wasn't. Jacob put his hand on her shoulder, rubbing her back. "Are you alright?" The concern in his eyes wasn't helping things. Hera remembered pulling away from him when he touched her yesterday.

Or today.

Hera's time concept was extremely off.

She opened her mouth to answer, but all that came out was a hiccup-sob that she regretted
instantly. Jacob went to say something, but Hera slid off the bed, hugging herself. She walked over to the window and touched the ledge where she had always sat. She briefly wished for that life that seemed so far away, then dismissed the thought as quickly as the fantasy had come. Still with her arms around herself, she looked out the window.

Out on the lawn, outside the window, were people gathered. Their houses had been destroyed in the war, and so they had taken up the castle as refuge. Wait. There were gardens that they were planting in - rows and rows of crops. There were tiny shacks that hadn't been there before, probably to house families that couldn't fit in the castle or tools.

How did it all get there? Surely Hera had been sleeping for only a night. Guessing her thoughts, Jacob stated from behind her, "You were sleeping for two days, not one. You were pretty dead to the world." At the mention of the word dead, Hera flinched. Her and Jacob had both been dead - you kind of have to be to become a Conjured. "Sorry," Jacob apologised quickly.

"No," Hera was still looking out the window. "I should be the one saying sorry, not you." Jacob didn't reply, so Hera continued, "I-I regret so much," unwanted tears sprung to Hera's eyes. "I did a heap of bad things. I'm not honouring my legacy." She scoffed without humour. "Well, my parents' legacy. I don't think -" Wow, this was hard. "- I don't think I should be Queen." Hera tensed, waiting for Jacob to yell at her or scold her. He did neither
of these. Instead, he did the opposite of what Hera expected.

He laughed.

It wasn't like a laugh at a funny joke, it was more like a hysterical laugh, like if you didn't
laugh you'd cry. Jacob laughed so long and so hard he slid off the bed and was laughing on
the floor. Unable to help herself, Hera started laughing too. "What -" she gasped. "- are you doing?" She managed to say before she collapsed beside Jacob in fits of more laughter.The laughing felt good, but soon they had diffused to little giggles and gasps for air. Jacob rubbed his cheeks, still chuckling. "My face hurts," he and Hera said at the same time, causing more laughter.

Hera and Jacob sat, side by side, on the floor beside the bed. "Why shouldn't you?" Hera
looked up in confusion at Jacob's question. "Be Queen," he explained. Hera looked at her
feet. "It's not right," was all she said. Jacob pressed himself closer. "I think you're wrong," he told her. Hera shook her head, and
Jacob put an arm around her shoulder, not bothering to argue. Hera almost smiled. There was a moment of silence as both decided what to say. At the same time, Hera put her head up and Jacob leant down, both going to say something, but not yet sure what. Instead, their faces ended up about half an inch apart. Staring into Jacob's eyes, their faces so close together, Hera could see flecks of gold, incredible brilliance lit up by the sunlight coming through the window. The lights cast one side of his face in angelic beauty and lighting up his hair into hazel-gold. His breathing was just as light and fast as hers and he kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you," he murmured, and Hera felt light-headed with happiness. No one had ever told
her that before. "I love you too." Her voice was firm, and she was honest. There was silence for a second, and nothing else seemed to matter. Hera smiled.

They were sitting next to each other, and Jacob's arm was around her shoulder. She felt him tense, and immediately felt nervous and felt her body slip into battle mode. He hesitated. "There's something you should know." He rested his head on hers, and a lock of his soft hair brushed her forehead. Hera groaned. "What now?" She tried to focus on his breathing. "I was a royal."

Hera's brain lagged for a moment as she tried to process what he just said. "Huh?" She made a hopelessly confused noise. Jacob sighed. "I know, it's a bit..." he trailed off, and tried again. "It's hard to explain, and is a bit of a long story. So, basically, I was a royal, a Miolae." Hera gasped, as the pieces clicked into place.

There had been a bit of a hurry for Hera's ritual at the start of this mess because of what happened in Miolae. The Conjured had overtaken their kingdom, turning many into Conjured. She hadn't heard about any coming back.

"How?" She asked him, not needing to elaborate. Jacob simply shrugged. "I don't know. I don't remember a whole lot, to be honest. I was a Conjured, then I wasn't, left only with," he tapped his temple. "My darkness."

Hera fainted.