Ariadne has always been a dreamer. Her mother would always say she was away with the faeries.
Until one night, an envelope shrouded with magic lands at her doorstep, inviting her to the dance of the damned in the enchanting land of Altoria.
It's m...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ariadne spent hours talking to Lord Orin. They talked about many things. Mostly about family. The conversation was easy, like breathing. Whereas interactions with Kallen were... Well not so easy.
"What was my mother like? At court?" Ariadne handed Orin a glass of water.
Orin took a sip and held on to his glass. He leaned against the end of Ariadne's bed. They had settled there after the confrontation from earlier. Her room still did not boast a lot of furniture, so it made sense for them both to lounge on her bed.
Orin sat with his long legs tucked against his chest. He looked like an awkward, gangly child, that sat in a too small chair, while his arms draped over the length of the foot board. Ariadne sat at the top, her legs curled beneath her. She poured herself a glass of water too and set down the glass pitcher on the bedside table.
Orin looked at her, a warm smile on his lips. The tension from earlier had slowly waned as the conversation went on.
"You have to understand, she was different back then. Altoria was different, even," he ran a hand through his mahogany curls.
"What do you mean?"
Orin took a breath, unsure of how to go on. "Back then, when your mother was about your age, maybe a few years older," he paused "the veil was still open, allowing travel between the known worlds to happen."
"Wait? People, humans, were allowed to actually come and go here? Ariadne shifted slightly to get more comfortable.
This was new to her. Her mother had taught her much, but whenever Ariadne had asked about the gap in the Fae history, in her heritage; her mother always went quiet and withdrew into herself. Telling Ariadne with a shrug that she didn't know anything either. Ariadne saw this for what it truly was, a lesson. A turning point, she could either listen and learn, or turn her back completely on who she could become.
"Yes. It was even encouraged by the King's of that time. Ambassador's like me." He paused to point at himself. "Had the job of communicating between the world's, of which there are four."
"Four? Not three," Ariadne asked.
Orin nodded. "Yes, four. There's the human world, Yours, or Ansmere as it's better known. The Shadowe realm, ruled by Keldur... Here, meaning Altoria in all of its entirety and a fourth, lesser known world. No one knows where it it is exactly, but it's believed to be ruled by a race more ancient then even us Fae."
Ariadne leaned back into the mountain of pillows, thoughtful. Taking a sip of her water, she looked at Orin, even though his posture was relaxed, his eyes said otherwise. They were tight at the corners and his shoulders had slowly started to rise again. This conversation was taking its toll on him.
"What does this have to do with my mother?"
"A lot. Be patient with me," Orin took a big gulp of water.
