Seven Witches

seven

Hera;

Hera dreamt of water lilies around her ankles with their leaves on her breasts, swimming through the pond that, in her dream, looked nothing like a pond but rather a big pool with only water lilies. She also had bluish skin in her dreams which was the second reason she knew it was a dream, the first one being that she is not a swimmer.

When she opened her eyes, there was no sunlight to greet her, or candlelight for that matter, only the sound of a door opening and the echo of boots on the floor. She froze, afraid it was a burglar who entered. Cythera had warned her several times to lock the door before she slept, how did she forget to—

"Hera,"

She whirred. "Paul," the thin covers were kicked away from her. "You scared me!"

Rising up from her bed, she found a torch and lit a lantern, then using that lantern to guide her to the rest of the candles. "I'm sorry," he murmured from behind her, taking one candle and helping her light up the room.

She yawned. "Oh it's no big deal, I..."

There was a bowl, the size of her hand, sitting on her sister's empty bed with a paper on top of it. She picked the paper and glanced at the insides of the bowl then proceeded to read it out loud. "Pure sugar, they put this in their tea..!"

Hera dropped the paper, and handled the sugar with absolute care. He picked up the paper from the floor, still gaping at the bowl. "Side note," Paul spoke behind her. "Visit me after breakfast and bring your lap dog. Don't forget to lock your room."

"Oh, I wonder what she wants." She said, studying the sugar before sprinkling some of it in her mouth.

He shook his head, taking the sugar from her. "She called me your lap dog,"

She tasted the aftermath of the sweetness the same moment the laugh escaped her throat, coughing as she choked on the sugary syrup in her mouth. Paul smiled, eyes widening. "This is delicious," he whispered. She didn't know why he whispered, there was no one here but them. Something about it sounded exotic and exciting.

Hera didn't agree however, "It's sickening."

"You have to take little from it, not a mouthful. Here," he handed her the sugar and she put a small amount in her mouth. Indeed, it was much better. She closed her eyes, imagining herself in a plush velvet sofa with a plate of grapes to her right and sugary tarts to her left, she imagined taking a bite from those tarts and tasting this.

She imagined Paul now, nodding before sitting next to her, stealing a bite from a tart she placed in her mouth. Her cheeks heated and she opened her eyes. He was in front of her but not biting anything, but rather frowning at the note. "Am I really your lap dog?" he asked.

"Is that what's troubling you?" there was humour in her voice that snapped his attention back to her. "Oh I would never take such a disobedient dog, anyway why are you here?"

He nudged her arm then, a grin on his face. Under the dim light, the bags under his eyes were now deep orange, the scar on his nose white. "I came here because I've found something, come with me."

And she followed him, outside her room to the freezing garden, and from there to the stables. She was right behind him as he led her towards one of the mares which was lying on the wet hay, a brown foal beside her.

Hera watched the newborn struggle to stand on its wobbly feet, its face so small compared to his mother. She lifted her skirts up to her mid thigh and jumped right into the dirt, her hands before her to steady the little animal.