Frost (m/m)

Chapter 4

He was awake. Why? It wasn't morning yet. Hmmm... Something made a noise. Where? Henry moved under the blankets. There it was the noise again! It came from the foot of the bed. Henry tried to open his blurry eyes and saw nothing. It was really dark, no lamp nor torch lit, and the fire was dead. By the moonlight, he could only see silhouettes. He could see one now. Looked like a tall person. The figure was rummaging through the big trunk, it seemed. The top was open and whatever was inside made a sound of cashing metal when the person moved stuff around. Henry calmly observed that from his lying position, still half asleep.

The figure stilled, as if sensing Henry was awake. He looked up and murmured something. His voice was deep, like...

Was that Haomath? Was Henry dreaming?

The figure murmured more, words Henry was too tired to make sense of, and closed the trunk slowly. The man - because it sounded like Haomath, but it couldn't be, right? - reached out a hand and rubbed Henry's foot and calves over the covers, making him shift and curl his feet under himself. The man chuckled and left the room, carrying whatever he got from the trunk and closing the door. A click was heard in the bedroom.

It took some moments but Henry decided to follow, in fear and curiosity. He walked to the door and tried to open it.

It was locked.

He pushed it again, without luck. The door didn't even move, such heaviness it had. He shook his head and went back to bed in a daze.

-.-.-.-

He was stalking through the corridors the next day. It was almost midday and Henry wanted to find somebody to talk to. He ate breakfast in bed, Kla brought him a very wide tray with all kinds of food, and now Henry wanted to explore.

The night before left him feeling lost, like there was something people weren't telling him. And there was his dream last night. He couldn't remember much of it, but he was almost sure somebody entered his room at night and locked the door on the way out. He was also almost sure it was Haomath. But the door was unlocked this morning, and the trunk appeared to be untouched - though Henry hadn't dared to open it. It felt like invasion of privacy. This is not my castle, he reminded himself. This is not my country. This is Hull, and it has it's own rules.

And the dream felt too hazy to give credit for. Yes, Henry nodded to himself. It had to be just a dream.

Henry walked down another set of stair finding himself in yet another big hall. He furrowed his eyebrows trying to remember the way to the dining room, and from there he tried to find the kitchen.

Walking around the castle was interesting because it was much more complex than his father's. The castle wasn't very old, looking well constructed and very solid. There were paintings in the walls, but mostly axes and swords with names on it, probably late owners. The carpet was all over the floor, and when there wasn't any, there was soft wood or soft stone. It felt comfortable to walk around it, and it had so many chambers and secrets Henry was thrilled to see. The guards that were patrolling smiled at him and wished good morning in Hullian, two little words he now was expert on.

"Maat nakit," he said, passing another guard which bowed, in a natural, carefree way - not the mechanical and stiff way the guards back in Mithlond did.

There couldn't be more than five guards inside, and four or so servants and two young maids. Sometimes he passed the same person twice and, mocking innocence, he said maat nakit again. They'd say it back, laughing, bowing and squeezing his shoulders in a friendly gesture. He kind of liked those moody, rude hullians. They were endearing in their own ways.

They treated him better them people in Mithlond, but Henry wouldn't go there, wouldn't allow himself to think about it. It always ended in tears.

"Maat nakit, Dali meg," the guard said smiling, and continued walking.