Dullahan

8 - Uncertainty - 2

She had been sitting in the hallway for an hour, staring into the space in front of her. She had studied the wall opposite to exhaustion, followed every line of the mortar and bricks, and then let her mind fall into silence. She enjoyed time spent alone, her mind quiet, thoughts locked tight away. It helped that she could focus on what her head could see- nothing. She could open her eyes and stare into the darkness, listening to the silent room. Occasionally there would be a noise loud enough to register through the wooden box she had been left in, but all she would hear is a muffled thud or ring, too quiet and indistinct to comprehend.

She came back to herself of her own accord, returning to her body and the corridor stretching out either side of her. She took a deep breath- something she didn't have to do, but occasionally did for how soothing it could feel- and refocused her attention on the moment.

Within the room behind her was the child- Fenn, as she now knew. She had given him space and time to process, to calm down and mull over the events of that afternoon. She hoped, at least, he might be less scared of her than he had been when she had left the room.

The helmet fit nicely over her neck, the straps and buckles going together with her practised hands. She didn't have to think about it, the motions familiar and ingrained in her limbs. She tried to compose herself, to prepare herself for returning into the room. She found it strange that she should feel so anxious about reentering her own room when its only occupant was a child. How many times had she stepped into a room she knew was filled with people intent on killing her?

Ness recognised that she was procrastinating, again her attention focused on the wall opposite, trying to find an excuse, a reason to delay just a few moments longer. She turned, hand on the door's latch, and pushed it open.

The boy sat on the bed, still clutching the carved horse Leola had given him. He looked up as she entered, eyes wide. As soon as he recognised her, his gaze dropped again, attention returning to the figure in his hands. He fidgeted with it, running his fingers over its carved planes. At least he did not completely turn away from her.

She stepped slowly into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her, as though the child was a deer she did not want to startle. He glanced at her, wary, and Ness got the impression he wanted to say something.

She hesitated, unsure whether she should initiate conversation or let him speak on his own terms, dithering between the two options before finally deciding she should just sit.

The chair was loud against the floor, wooden legs scraping. She winced at the sound, wondering if the chair had always made such noise, or if it had only started after the boy had come into her care.

Her papers remained on the desk- a half-written letter, the writing shaky and unpractised, the pen lying beside, and the pot of ink that she had forgotten to stopper. She picked it up, amazed that the small quantity of ink remaining had not dried, before she returned its stopper and tidied her writing implements away. Writing was not her strong suit, and where possible she avoided it. Unfortunately, recent circumstances were forcing her to confront many of her shortcomings, much to her dismay.

She turned her attention instead to one of the blank pages, retrieving a pencil from one of the drawers and taking to sketching, instead. She wasn't sure what she was attempting to draw, her intentions mostly focused on trying not to crowd the boy, trying to give him the space to speak if he wished, or respecting his desire to stay silent if he did not.

When the drawing did not come easily to her either, she finally broke the silence that had grown long between them.

"I will be leaving the castle in the morning," she said, surprising herself with her own voice.

"Why?" came the almost immediate response, the boy's voice betraying anxiety.

"I have duties to the court- there is work that I must do, away from the castle."

She set her pencil down, turning instead to watch him. He was still staring at the horse, although his fingers had stilled.

"Where are we going?" he asked quietly, and she felt a pang of guilt.

"You... will remain here," she said, looking away as he looked up at her, concern and uncertainty clear on his face, "I am afraid I cannot tell you where I am going. It will only be a few days. I... wish I did not have to, but... The King was clear in his ruling."

She heard him shuffle on the bed, and she looked back to see him pulling his legs up to his chest, the horse lying forgotten on the blanket beside him. "But you said it's not safe here," he said, quietly.

"I... did. But it is far less safe for you to come with me, this time. What I do is more dangerous even than this castle. You would do best to stay within this room while I am gone. I will not tell you that you cannot leave, but you should keep to yourself where you can, and avoid talking to the castle folk." He said nothing, staring at a spot on the bed. Reluctantly, she continued, "I will ask that food and clothes are brought to this room- I will see if I can find... books, or if there is something else...?" she trailed off, unsure what a child would even want to do. There were very, very few occasions on which she wished she remembered her life. Everything before the point where she had lost her head was little more than a void to her, an empty space where she was certain there had once been memories and a life, but where now there was nothing. She had interacted very sparsely with children in the time since, and found herself now floundering in her lack of experience.

The boy shrugged, already rebuilding his walls, shutting her out.

Reluctantly, she continued. "If anything happens- anything that makes you feel unsafe-" she leaned down, toward the spot the boy was staring at, hoping that these words would at least stick out in his mind. "Meirion will remain at the castle while I am gone, and... he has said he will watch out for you."

He shrugged again, the movement smaller and harder to catch than his previous non-answer.

"Please," she said, waiting until he eventually looked back at her, his expression miserable, "Tell me you will seek his help if you must."

He looked at her for a long moment, before his gaze dropped back to the blanket. "I will," he muttered, resting his chin on his knees.

Ness leaned back, relief starting to filter into her mind, pushing some of the lingering worry out. "He... is perhaps the only person in this castle I might believe does not have ill intentions," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Unlike the others, I trust that he at least does not follow the Court blindly." She fell quiet, the boy sitting on the bed making no attempt to respond, staring at the blanket. She wondered what he was thinking, wondered how much damage she was doing to their tenuous relationship already. Each time she thought she was making progress, she would say something or do something that would bring it crashing back down into nothing.

Some day, she told herself, she would break free of the yoke of the Court, and with it she could venture into that quiet life Fenn had always told her she could have.