The Butterfly Crown

Sober - Keeva

Everything becomes a little different as soon as it is spoken out - Hermann Hesse

Keeva

I cast up my eyes, light morning sun is greeting  me, gentle like a stream. The sunbeams have been colored green through the chlorophyll of the leaves. The forrest that had been described as deadly seemed halcyon. The warm green shade enwrapped me like a coat. I blinked a few times to escape the liaison with the light.

I felt staggered, when I noticed the men who had dragged me through the woods on the back of a horse on the floor. He was kneeling, the hands on the with moss covered ground, his eyelids were closed, he was fully motionless. I could see his profile in the way he was sitting, I saw his lips moving, reciting soundless prayers in a language I didn't understand. He had said that he didn't belong to a northern wildling tribe, but his behavior was portending that he had lied, just like the pirate on the boat did, when he had tried to guess my backstory.

Fion looked incredibly young in his peaceful state. The night before I had observed him, when I woke up, because of a dream. When he slept, I would have guessed him younger than me, but in my nightmare he looked like a man ready to burn down city. In my nightmare he was covered in blood with a chiseled face and fragile eyes, he was an androgynous vengeance, I saw him standing on Melar tower holding a burning flag in his hand, the maroon emblem with the golden butterfly was blazing and turning into ember.

But the man I was looking at now was a different one, he didn't gave me a fear-evoking impression. He smoothly returned to upright position, with his pale fingers he moved over a scar, that I hadn't noticed while I spent my time being thrown over the back off a horse like a sack of potatoes. The cuts on his arm were symmetrical and purposely done, they forged a shape. He had a star as cicatrice. He opened up his eyes, he was done with his prayer.

I didn't bother anymore with staying silent, he had noticed me being awake the first time, I'm sure he was going to notice again. My hands were still tied back and attempts to get the rope off my skin had failed.

"What does your scar mean?" I asked.

He might not reply but it was worth a try. His head turned around and he looked me directly in the eyes, his expression was blank.

"It was given to me when I was born. It is part of a religion in the North, they pray to the morning star. The tribe of the morning star doesn't exist anymore, it has been annexed by another tribe.", he explained to me.

"A tribe cannot be annexed it is part of the kingdom.", I corrected him.

"The North is not part of the kingdom, maybe it is on paper, maybe they provide Melar with iron, but the North will never be ruled by people who don't even bother to learn the names of the most important places or their language.", he said.

"You mean your language. Don't deny your heritage. Whose tribe was it who murdered and subjugated yours?", I questioned.

"Their leader is Selen Tellur. An implicit violent man, with a full beard and bright eyes. His army is ruthless. There were always rumors surrounding Selen, that it had been his father who had planned the attack on Melar and that he, the spawn, was even more touched by the dark. Every one in Melar castle is sipping their tea, while up there in the North a storm is coming. But when Selen Teller came to my tribe he didn't murder us, no. He used our forces to grow an even bigger even stronger army. I know he isn't stopping, only time can tell the fate of Melar.", he paused for a moment and continued. "But do you know who murdered us? It was your family, riders with the emblem of a golden butterfly, claiming our land as theirs."

"What we have done is unforgivable. But things that lie in the past are not my doings. I do not hold you accountable for the slaughter in Melar, where my parents died. I would lie, if I told you that I'm not somewhat biased towards people born in the North. ", I admitted.