Kingdoms Rise

Two

Mae woke up to the comfort of the darkness of her room. Relief flooded through her as she took in the familiarity of her room, and yet she yearned for something that she didn't understand. She felt the weight of her dream on her shoulders like a memory from childhood. She rubber her eyes and lit the lamp next to her bed. She sat for a moment, looking at nothing in particular, thinking back to what happened in her dream, that supposedly wasn't a dream. Mae felt a sudden pull at her wrist, like an ancient tether tugging and tugging, begging to acknowledged. Nervously she looked down.

The same tattoo from her dream of reality was there, on her wrist in full color. She felt her heart stop dead in her chest, her breath caught in her chest. She couldn't believe it was true; it wasn't a dream, is was real. Somebody wanted her dead, and somebody wanted to protect her. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, she couldn't form a single coherent thought.

She blew out the light and tried to sleep again, but her fears were coursing through her, the reality of it all. If Fallon couldn't get to her in time, then would Brennan would. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think of the possible outcomes if Fallon failed his end of the bargain. Giving up on trying to sleep, Mae flipped on to her back, staring at the ceiling before finally dragging herself out of bed. She showered and dressed in her usual attire; fight leathers and her scarlet cloak. As she braided her hair she thought for the first time how grateful she was for the long sleeves. When she finished she headed to the kitchen.

Mae sees her mother standing at the counter slicing bread. The kitchen was small with little counter space, Mae and her parents always found a way to maximize the little space. The oven was a reasonable size with a range hood above it. During the winter it made for the perfect place to warm up with a cup of tea and a blanket. Mae would sit with her father as he read to her, cuddled up under a thick wool blanket and sipping tea, the memory made Mae smile as she walked up to her mother.

"Ma, I hope you're putting sugar on that bread," Mae said in light tone.

Her mother looked over her shoulder, the barest smile gracing her face, she said to Mae, "If that's really what you want."

"Always."

Mae pads across to the other counter to prepare herself tea. She always to make conversation with her mother light, trying to keep her spirits high. Every smile, no matter how small, that Mae got from her mother was a success. The recent weeks had been hard her family, though she tried, Mae didn't feel like she was helping much.

"Mae, I want you to take this to your father," her mother handed her a basket filled with bread and the wool blanket Mae and her father had shared many cold nights under.

"Ma, he is getting better right?" It pained Mae to even ask, but she had to.

"Yes, he is, but I want to recover it comfort."

That was her mother, kind and compassionate, always putting others before herself. Every action her mother made was calculated to benefit another person. Mae wished had that in her heart, but she didn't and she couldn't.

Mae grabbed a piece of sugar bread, and with a quick kiss on her mother's cheek, she left to the stairs that led to her parent's fabric shoppe. Her mother was a weaver and spent most of her days in the back weaving thread or turning threads into fabrics. Mae's father kept to the front selling to costumers. When Mae was younger she used to help out at the shoppe or read a book by the front window, but then her parents started sending her to train at a keep. Mae missed the days where she would curl up in that window and read a book, but those days had ended. But the memories still remained.