Lily-Boy

Prologue

The water was whispering. While it moved around the posts holding up the dock, stroking the sides of the ships, hitting the cobble wall, it whispered. The smaller waves brought with them messages, the bigger ones demands, and if you listened closely you could hear truths that had travelled from across the world.

      Dark days are coming, the water said. You have to make a choice.

      A hooded figure was sitting underneath the dock, on a little beam that connected the posts holding its weight, looking out onto the water. He was clothed in black and had on a mask, covering everything but his eyes.

      Although he disliked the sea, the movement of it, the darkness of it, how it seemed deeper even than the night, he knew it told the truth. As he stared out into the water he realised that many years had passed since he'd felt safe. He could hardly remember how it felt to walk around with the snow falling on his face, or the taste of meat on his tongue, or even, the warmth of a kiss, but now, home only existed in his dreams.

      Not that he deserved to dream.

      Yet, he still did. He had never stopped dreaming. Even though he hated it, to be reminded of all that he had once had, of everything he had lost. His mind was cruel for not allowing him to forget, but to let him pine for something drifting away from him, like water passing through his fingers.

      But even so, he listened. He heard the ripples of the tides, the creaks of the big ships, the whistle of the wind. He knew he had to make a choice. If he wanted to leave, he should do it. He knew he could––he already had a plan in the back of his mind. But this idea had swum around for so long it had grown tired and was starting to sink.

      Think of home, he reminded himself. Think of your family.

     But that only left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't bear to think of their faces, when he returned after two years, with nothing to show for it. He sighed and leaned against the wooden pillar, letting his eyes drift across the darkness that billowed below his feet.

      There was nothing left for him here. He had known it two years ago and he knew it now. But there was nothing he hated more than a task left unfinished.

      He stared out into the harbour, at the big ships. This was one of the best hiding places he had found since he'd started going around the town at night. No one would think to check underneath the docks for someone and it was easy enough to get here if you were good at climbing. He could navigate the entire dock fully hidden, check the ships and even board some by climbing up the side of them and aboard. He had already found what he'd come here to do. The ship was one of the bigger ones in the harbour, painted in a muted brown colour, while sails standing tall, stirring slightly in the light wind. On the side, a golden engraving bore its name: The Rose. It was the greatest ship Maledictis had to offer, sent to navigate up to the river region, ending in Riverrun. Which wasn't the best place to end up in––far away from the North, as well as being run by the queen's father, the Sun Lord––but it was better than here.

      He sat in silence, listening to the waves, not of the ocean, but inside of him. There were two currents, crashing into each other, two opposing views, a source of conflict springing from inside of him. The boats left early morning, this one in three days. Could he really jump ship and leave everything behind? He looked at the shadows in the water below, dark spots which stretched out, blending in with the lighter water going out into the open sea.

      He could almost feel the North at his fingertips. The bright and beautiful North. He was the child of winter, a child of snow and darkness. All he wanted was to feel the snow on his tongue again. To feel like his old self again. He no longer was the joyful man he'd been before, he was as quiet as a mouse, destined to live its life contained, stuck, forever hiding. It seemed ironic, that the South––known for its warm and fruitful summers, flowers, mead and festivals––could harden a man in such a way.

      Just then, he heard a rustle above his head. He tensed, tuning into the sound, listening out for breathing, or movement of any kind. He wondered why he hadn't heard anything before, why the noise was suddenly right above him and cursed himself for not having paid attention. He stayed still, not sure whether or not he should be worried. A long moment passed, and he held his breath. Was someone there? He heard a soft rustle again, and then, to his relief, an almost inaudible mew. It was just a cat.

      He breathed. And then breathed again. He knew that, although he had been temporarily forgotten, if the time ever came that he was seen, he would be remembered. One slip, and he was a dead man. The guards probably thought he was long gone, far away, not realising that he indeed, had never gotten out.

      His eyes hardened. He still hadn't gotten out. All this time, and he still was here, in this godforsaken city where nobody was your friend, where rich merchants hired people to be their slaves and the monarchy pretended it wasn't their problem.

      And as he listened to the echoes of his beating heart, he made a choice. 

***

I'm back :3

This is dedicated to caomeii.