Hierophant-in-Training

Chapter 1 -> A-rude-wakening

(A/N: lol look at my play on words, im terrible at creating chapter titles. pfffft but this is good i have to say real good)

“But Henry!” A young woman lying on a cot wailed over exaggeratingly, pulling the flattened pillow over her head. The room was small, and the young man named Henry stood at the only window, leaning over a desk littered with parchment, quills, and jars of ink, candles, and books. A large bookcase stood tall on the left side of the covered desk. He had pushed the thin yellow curtains as far as they can go, letting in the morning shine. Sunlight leaked through the open curtains, that Henry opened gleefully. “I’m not ready to get up” the young woman’s voice was muffled by the pillow that she kept firmly placed over her head. Henry marched toward the right of the desk, to the bed and ripped the covers off the young woman’s bed. She howled at his reaction to her refusal and tucked her knees to her chest. All the young woman wore was a tan thin strapped shirt with vertical black stripes on it and a navy skort (skirt and short mix) with gold trimming that stopped above her knees. Long dark brown hair peeked out from under the pillow as she continued to refuse leaving her bed.

“C’mon Verona, you HAVE to get up! You have training with Aversa in two hours,” Henry chided as he gripped the thin feathery mattress and flipped it off of the frame. The young woman named Verona groaned as she made contact with the cold stone floor. Henry walked near her and she shot out her right leg kicking him in the thigh; he chuckled in response to her attack. Verona sat up on the floor and her long brown hair cascaded down past her shoulders. Her bangs clung to her cheeks while some of her hair was pulled back with a braid on either side of her head.

“Gods, I’d rather be eaten alive by crows” she replied as she pulled her thin frame off the floor.

Henry grinned creepily, “That can be arranged…” He cocked his head for a moment and began to widen his grin and added “ya’know that reminds me of a joke-“

Verona shook her head, tuning him out and pulled the mattress back on the simple wooden frame and worked on making the bed. After working on that, she knelt down in front of an open chest that sat next to her bed. Verona pulled out a hairbrush and began to smooth down her loose hair and then pulled the remaining hair into a high ponytail with a thin black ribbon. She then withdrew a dark navy jacket trimmed with a gold collar and coat tail, and swiftly stuck her feet into a pair of knee high brown boots that rested next to the chest. Verona pulled on the jacket, it’s sleeves stopping at the crook of her elbows and examined herself in the mirror; her gaze fell upon her tattoo on her right hand. She knelt down in front of the chest once more removing arm bracers from it. She slipped them on and the right one concealed the brand on her hand perfectly. Smiling contently, Verona grabbed at Henry’s sleeve and dragged him out the room and out into the narrow hallway. She looked at him and inquired “so what’s for breakfast, did ’ya get a chance to sneak into the kitchen for a peek?” Verona’s stomach growled fiercely at the thought of breakfast, no matter how disgusting it tended to be.

        Henry chortled “as if, and you don’t have time for breakfast.” She gave him a dark look as he continued, “you have to be in the stables to train with Aversa in a little while, duh” Verona jabbed him in the arm and stormed off down the hall. Of course, he continued to laugh in the hall even though she left. Verona slowed down and took small quiet steps on the stone floor as she walked by three closed doors. Her heart began to race, she hoped no voice would beckon her to the leftmost door. Luckily, as she walked past, no raspy male voice called out. But the moment she walked past, turning the corner, voices in her head began to whisper. A splitting headache struck her as the chorus of voices began to get louder and louder. Verona’s legs wobbled as she placed both hands on her head, she teetered to the side, feeling her right shoulder impact with the stone wall. The voices swam through her head trying to make her succumb to their dark suggestions. She clenched her eyes shut, hoping the voices will stop.

Heed me a male voice, raspy and familiar sounding would whisper.

Open your heart to Him, join me and be a god a voice with a mature and feminine sound would coo. A low moan escaped from Verona’s lips as the pain in her head increased. She slowly slipped to the ground, sweated beaded her forehead. The voices refused to return to their slumber in the dark recesses of her mind.

Drop that naïve act of yours a seductive female voice would spit join with Him.

You are a Fellblood a voice would chuckle awaken that slumbering heart. Verona clutched her head with shaking hands, whimpered on the floor. Her breath was ragged as the voices continued their demands with vigor.

She clenched her eyes shut; “Verona” another voice began to beckon, feminine with a hint of raspy-ness to it. “Verona are you alright?” This voice seemed to drone out all the other voices that haunted my thoughts. Then she realized this voice was speaking to her, not from within her head, but it was an actual person. She opened her eyes just a little; the throbbing in her head decreased slightly. There stood Tharja, dark hair slightly drawn in pigtails, leaving the rest of her hair to spill over her shoulders. Her golden headband reflected sunlight into Verona’s eyes. Tharja’s eyes scanned over the shaking body in front of her, see the pain contorting Verona’s face. She knelt down next to the collapsed Verona and poked her in the cheek.

“Th-Tharja…” Verona rasped out shakily, her throat feeling drier than the deserts of Plegia. Tharja leaned close and tucked a strand of hair behind Verona’s ear with great care, letting out a content sigh. Verona’s breathing began to slow, trying to ease into its normal pace. “C-can you…help me u-up” Verona managed to utter as she fought to slow her breathing.

“Anything for you” Tharja murmured as she shuffled to a stand and took Verona’s shaking warm hands with her smooth cold ones. “On the count of three” she whispered and began to mouth the numbers. On three, Verona was hefted off the ground and she leaned against the wall panting. Tharja took out a handkerchief, which was tucked in a specific upper undergarment, and patted the cold sweat off of Verona’s forehead and brow. Verona nodded a ‘thank you’ to Tharja, and leaned her head back, trying to breath slow. Her whole body shook, every muscle quaking and tense, her head still pounding but not as painfully as a little earlier. Tharja hovered over her making sure she wasn’t going to pass out, keeping a close eye like a vulture on dying cattle.

“Ya’know…” Verona spoke up, her chest no longer heaving, “you don’t have to stare at me like that…I’m not going to die.” Tharja blushed and gave a look of shock as if to say ‘you can tell I’m staring at you?!’ Verona smiled faintly at Tharja; she was another person Verona could call friend in this place…other than Henry, of course of a horse. Her eyes suddenly widen, horses…pegasi…TRAINING WITH AVERSA!!!!!!! “OH GODS ABOVE, SHE’S GONNA KILL ME…I GOTTA GO, THANKS THARJA!!!!” Verona cried out and swiftly ran to the back door kicking up sand as she raced to the stables.

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So how was it? Tell me if you like it and I'll keep working on chapter 2, I just started working on it.