Megara Dust

Dark Seer

When she came back from the mortuary, she went to a small worship room. She lit a few candles around and adjusted some chairs. She knelt on the large symbol on the floor and prayed to her ancestors, both fairy and demon, to protect her.

-

The next day, she went down the stairs, and people were chatting in the dining hall. She greeted the guests at the table. "Good morning!" She smiled. Her father is sitting at the head of the table. His chair is significantly bigger, with pointed edges for its ears and half the head of a gargoyle with red eyes for the top rail. She pulls out a near, empty chair next to Caden. He stood up and left his seat. Oswald Chater, Azratoth's advisor, cleared his throat. "Megara, I am sure you are aware." He looked at her while her gaze was fixed upon her father, looking for answers. He, too, looked at Azratoth. Now, the three look at each other back and forth awkwardly. "Enough." He extends his arms in between the two. "There is a gathering later today. At the main castle. With Queen Lana and King Esiah. I was wondering if you would come with us and attend."

"Oh, nobody told me that." Caden came back, giving her a wooden mug, full of liquid from the keg. She muttered a thank you. "But yes, I would love to come."

"Great." He smiled. "Be ready by nine." He turned to eat his food and she did the same.

-

She sat in front of her mirror and sighed. She plugged in her curling iron in a nearby electric outlet. While she waits for it to heat up, she gets her accessories. Her bracelet clicks. She pushes the stud of her earrings to secure them. Then she begins humming to herself as she curls her purple-fades-to-black hair. Then she hears a knock on the door. "In a minute!" She says.

The door knocks once more. "It's me!" The person, Caden, yells from behind.

"Oh, come in!" She turns her head to the side, making the hair on that part more visible. The doorknob turns and the door creaks open.

"Hey, princess." He leaves the door open.

"Hey, knight. Or, whatever." She shrugs.

He sits on the small ottoman in front of her bright red blanketed bed. "I guess so." His eyes begin tracing the floor.

"What's up? You look worried." She looks at him through the mirror.

"It's just that," he pauses. "I haven't been to a gathering before. Let alone in the main castle." She makes a sound letting him know she is listening. "And what if, say," he thinks, "there is too many people. And I won't be able to protect you."

"What would my years of training be if I can't even defend myself?" She catches his gaze from the mirror.

"No—but—the thing is," he stammers, "it is my job to protect you." He points all fingers to his chest.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll do great. You always do." She puts down her curling iron and faces him with a smile.

He looks away. "What if I freeze suddenly? What if I pass out? What if," he panics, "I slip or trip on something and everyone would laugh at me and they would mock us and especially King Azratoth?"

"Woah, chill, cowboy. One, you won't. Two, that is just absurd. You'll be fine, trust me. And three, just make sure you don't wear slippery shoes." He begins walking to the curling iron. "What are you doing?" He begins twirling her hair around the iron while sighing periodically. "Hey, talk to me." She looked at him from the mirror but his eyes were too sad and focused on her hair. "Buddy."

He shakes his head a little. "I'm sorry. I just have so many worries. Is this normal?"

"Yes, totally. Everyone feels that way. I'm sure that the king and the queen have the same worries. And the citizens will worry for their safety. You know, with us coming from," she air quotes, "the dark side." He chuckles.

"I don't think we're that bad. Are we?" She giggles and shakes her head. "Hey, head straight." He commands. "I mean, come to think of it, they serve the living people, the humans. While we serve the dead. You light candles for those forgotten. You clean their previous bodies and make sure they are kept properly. We have residences for each old soul. Yet we never ask for anything in return."

She nods. "That last part applies to all rulers of all kingdoms. But I do enjoy providing for those souls." Suddenly, her crow squawks. He gently places down the curling iron and looks out the light red-tinted windows. There were people assembling outside. Megara does not look outside. She admires herself on the mirror. But she admires her hair more than herself. She laughs impressively. "Wow. Where did you learn to do this?"

Oswald walked in. "Megara?" The two jump startled and look at him. Caden stands, prepared to fight. While Megara simply holds onto the vanity. "Come along, now. The party is soon." He stood aside as the two head out of her room. "Did you do your hair?"

She shakes her head. "Do you like it?" She smiles.

"It's," he looks at Caden, then back at her hair, "delightful." Caden lifts his arm up to his abdomen, waiting for her to hold onto it as they walk. Oswald closes the door behind them. "The princess is ready." He shouts down the staircase.

"Oh, Oswald, you need not to raise your voice inside the castle." Ruby, the castle maid, scolds him lightly.

"My apologies. I would just like to inform the people to make way." He stands tall.

"Is Ruby coming?" The princess asks Oswald.

Ruby and Oswald look at each other. "No need, my dear." Ruby looks at Megara with a smile. "Who would look after the castle if I am not here? The best warriors will travel with you."

"Awe," Caden places his hand on his heart. "I'm touched, Miss Ruby."

"What's taking you all so long?" Max, covered in armor, the protector of the king, stomps impatiently by the main door.

"Apologies, Max. These three were in a bit of a chatter." Oswald heads out the door.

"Toodles, Miss Ruby!" Caden and Megara wave to the maid.

They catch up to the rest by the portal. "Finally." Max whines. He goes first, then Oswald. Followed by King Azratoth and the two.