A Court of Fear and Faith

Chapter Three

As Lily slowly ambled her way back through the forest, a drizzle began to land on her shoulders and dampen her hair but she was in no rush to avoid it. Going back to the castle would mean having to deny any of this morning happened and she was in no hurry to forget any detail. A long walk back would give her enough time to commit the moments to memory: what his laugh sounded like, the way he gulped down her soup like it was ambrosia, the way the gems on his armour cast swirling shadows when the light hits them. When she had relived the morning for what felt like the millionth time, she finally decided it a good time to brave the main-gates. 

As soon as her boots hit the muddy earth within the boundaries of the castle she was bombarded with the usual insults and jeers from the guards. 

"A bit early to be away with the faeries, bastard." 

"What, are they sending away children of the blessed now?"

"Did they start fucking you before or after your mother died?" 

Lily kept her head down and aimed her rapid steps toward the door to the kitchens but before she could reach the rusted handle, she was caught short by a hand on her arm. When she looked around to who had stopped her, she was met with the familiar face of Matthew, the stable boy. His round, green eyes looked down at her with concern as she shook off his grasp. 

"I'm fine Matt, please just leave it be," she begged. 

"You shouldn't just take that from them, Lil." He cast a disapproving look over to the hoard of guards huddled around a fire by the gates. Lily knew he wouldn't do anything about them, really, it was just his way of comforting her. Despite his strength and height, Matthew would stand no chance in a fight; he was too timid from being around the horses so often. That's what she admired in him, his gentleness, even if it made him weak. 

Shrugging her shoulders, Lily began to walk towards the doorway to the kitchens, the taunts had dulled into a vague murmur of laughter and she was determined to slip away. From behind her, she could hear Matthew following, probably hoping to scrounge a late lunch. When they were both within the confines of the kitchens, Matthew closed the door behind them and Lily set her basket down on the workbench. 

"So, do you want some lunch or just company?" she asked casually, wiping her hands on her skirt, to which he cleared his throat and blushed. In the small confines of the kitchen, he looked ridiculously large and misplaced; the grey walls making his tanned skin look sallow. He even had to stoop a little to keep his tightly curled hair from touching the low ceiling. 

"No, nothing like that today. Not that I don't like it when we do that, it's just," he rambled and Lily smiled sympathetically in reply as she grabbed an apron from the chair beside her, securing it to her waist instinctively. 

"Lunch then? I can reheat some soup, I made it yesterday but it's still good." 

"That sounds great, thank you." He walked over to the fireplace and began to pile wood into the grate as Lily picked up the heavy pot of leftover soup from the pantry. They'd got into this strange routine after Lily's mother had died. Matthew would knock on the kitchen door, or come to her bedroom door down in the servants quarters and they would spend time together. Sometimes they would eat together, chatting over whatever was leftover from dinner service or what she had made in her spare time. Other times they went to bed together, it was pleasant and familiar but Lily knew it would never go anywhere beyond that between them. She was the crazy girl who prayed to the Old Gods before getting into bed, she wasn't who a respectable boy could marry. 

She watched him as he lit the fire with clumsy hands, brows furrowed in concentration, and thought of what a life with him might look like. A small cottage on the outskirts of the castle boundaries, maybe they'd move away from this territory. She would clean and cook for him, keep the home warm while he worked. He could plant strawberries in the garden for her to harvest in the summer. After a while, her belly would swell with his babies, lanky and tanned little things, their faces sticky with strawberry jam. She would be content and well-kept.