"Mother, you must rest, you'll kill yourself flying there all on your own," I'm flying alongside her, so high up in the clouds I can't see anything but our two dark figurers, and the shiny lights that race along around me. I've noticed Mother doesn't have any, and as she's slightly smaller than me, looks like a normal raven.
"I can't, Elly, you're in danger there, I can't rest, I can't." She replied, her beak shut, the words drifting in and out of my head.
"Take some poison, Mother, you'll die without it." I said, flying a little ahead so I can look back on her.
"I can't, Elly, I can't stop flying, I have to get there before she does, she'll kill you Elly, she'll kill you."
"Who mother, who?" I asked, but the big black raven beside me was already faded, the clouds fell away into black, "Who, mother, Who?" I screamed, my eyes already open, "Answer me mother, who?" I screamed, but my words fell away, and I realized Illy was sitting up beside me, staring wide eyed. "Did I speak?" I asked suddenly, and she nodded.
"You sure are having strange dreams lately." She said, "And always near the evening as well." The dreams were strange, dizzying, and all too read feeling when I had them.
"I know, though I didn't have any the last couple of days," I replied, slipping out of bed to stretch. "And their all sort of similar too."
"I can send for a doctor to." She begins.
"No," I replied, slightly flattered that she was willing to."It'll go away, that's not necessary." I hated not knowing what was in her head, but most of all weather she was serious about me or whether I was just going to be another fling that ended in a gunshot. She seemed to have these unspoken rules about what was acceptable and what was not, because although she took no precaution in doing whatever she like with me, on my own I could hardly touch her before she had scurried off on some supposed mission of great necessity.
She only ever called me by name, only doing so in public, to the extent where I almost though I might secretly be a replacement for someone else. She hadn't put up a fuss about me calling her Illy, but I could see she was grateful when I said Master instead. But beyond all this she seemed to have almost ceased talking to me, as if it scared her to do so, and often cut me off when I began with a tug of the chain or an almost frantic kiss, like physical touch was going to save her from verbal touch. And my dreams didn't help me get any less irritated or relaxed about any of it. It had been about a week since the ball, and she hadn't changed one bit since then, caught in-between real commitment and complete indifference, and she seemed equally terrified by both.
As had become customary in the past couple of days, I returned to my room and spent my time chatting with the Golden twins or Ebony and reading, before returning to Illy just before sunrise. As was common for her as monarch, she had many duties to fulfill, and usually didn't cease her working or return from her endeavors until then, so I had to busy myself accordingly. It was past midnight by the time the thought came to me, and it came only because the letter caught my eye from where it lay, it's blue Clementian wax seal open on the desk. I though perhaps I would read it again, and I did, but when I did something about it struck at me. If my father had never existed, where did I get my golden.
Ever since I was little my mother had let me have the golden pocket watch. She told me it was from my father, and that he died in a car crash just before I was born and left me the pocket watch to remember him by. If he had not existed, like she said or otherwise, who had left me the pocket watch. I went to my dresser and pulled it out, stripping the silver chain out of it, and turning it over to examine it alone. It was simple enough in function. The front was smooth gold, but as you turned it to the back it had a large round window into the mechanics, displaying the silver and brass gears as they ticked away. I popped it open with the button on top and stared at the hands, they were smooth black sticks on the white, numbered background.
On it there were no clues at all, except for one strange aspect. On the back, through the window, just before all the gears and mechanics of the watch, there was this small, flattened golden stick that blocked the view, it's ends blocked by the window's edges. Everything else inside the watch had a clear purpose, and was either brass, silver, or a dark, unpolished gray, never gold. I remember my Mother showing me how I could pop the watch open and examine the insides one day, but that I must never sell it, and only do so when I was absolutely sure I needed to see the interior. I figured this was dire enough to fulfill those circumstances.
I went to my desk and pulled out a flat metal instrument, probably for painting texture or something, but it would work fine for this. I inserted it into the little slot at the base of the watch's back plate, and pressed upward, yielding a clean pop from the plate as it popped off and fell to the desk. Inside was more than I ever could have hoped for. Just above the machinery, laying in an indent so it didn't shake with the watch, was a golden key that ran the length of the watch, and a small roll of paper. For a moment I had to set it down to calm my nerves, but then I picked out the key, rolling it over in my hand. It was a simple design, a flattened ring at the top, the pole which I had seen earlier, and a couple aberrations at the base.
But as I flipped it over I saw on the back was an engraved in the gold the letters, M. C. As the current Clementian suitor was called Master Clementia, I assumed at her time, my mother had been too, and therefore the initials were hers. It must of been the key to something of my Mother's that she had left behind, I thought, but where would such an item end up after all these years. I set it down and unrolled the tiny scroll of paper, reading across the yellowed parchment in handwritten ink, "For your own retrieval at a time you deem fit, but keep out of sight off all others, and treat with utmost care." Deciding it was safest in the pocket watch, I returned both the scroll and key to their places and snapped it shut, taking care to put in back in my drawer behind some other items, just in case.
It was a strange inscription, but I realized now more than ever that my Mother, although she knew she probably didn't have much time to live, was setting me up so I would be safest while she was alive, but as I failed to age and noticed abnormalities about me, I would look into my origin, and hopefully find out the truth without letting it become known to others. It was a gamble on her part, but it was probably her best chance, and at that point, most things she did were gambles. There may have even been journals and books in the house I was supposed to find, if only I had not gotten injured, and consequently, lost most things I had before there was a chance to protest.
All I salvaged from my losses were a couple changes of clothes, my ring, pocket watch, and phone, and if this was all I took and I could find it wrought with secrets, imagine the things that could have been in that house, slipped between the pages of dictionaries and novels. I recognized now that my mother had probably sold all the jewelry and things she took when she fled, to get that house, and it was possibly not taken solely for the hospital expenses, but also secretly by Caedis government agents, in order to ensure humanity didn't find anything hidden there that they weren't supposed to. I wondered what my mother would think if she knew what had happened to me. How long would it be until she did know?
The strike of the clock interrupted my thoughts, and I tread up to Illy's room. When I arrived she had not returned yet so I plopped down on the bed and waited, contenting myself with a golden spinning top left on the bedside table. I almost didn't notice her presents until she slipped her arms around my neck.
"Well?" She asked, when I didn't respond. I took a deep breath, as if it would dispell the unease within me, but although the air flowed in and out of my throat, that fear remained lodged in the back of my throat.
"Is it easy to kill people?" I asked softly, picking up the top and and twirling it round, letting it fall to trace out circles on the wooden table. I felt her tense above me, and slowly withdrawal her arms. Would she respond, would she run, I didn't know.
"In the moment," She replied finally, "yes. But at all other times, it's horrid." Her voice shook like she was about to puke as she spoke, so violently it made me turn around and stand, as though I might have to run to catch her fall, but she stood still, facing the wall, frozen mid-step like a stone statue. "There was a first time, and I don't think that one was easy, but after that, in the moment, it's always easy. At some moments, I look down on humanity like they're animals, lowly livestock that only exist for other's benefit, too stupid to understand their own worth and strength.
"But then sometimes, they are my allies, they teach me things I don't understand, even raise me to greater steps, but I still often can't consider them smart. It's wrong, but I don't really get wrong and right like other people do, with their black and white worlds, everything laid out like a path. I had a past, but it was surrounded by gardens, vibrant, color-filled, fields and forests, it was no question why I strayed. I don't know where the path went, or whether I had that black and white sight to begin with. Some days murder is fun, even unimportant, others it's gruesome and horrible." Her voice droned on in this strange, deathlike march, one foot before the other, stomping boots on beaten ground.
"And lies, I don't get those more than anything else. Creatures hate what they consider to be dirty, even if it's not. They hate lies more than anything though, and I don't understand why. I do it for them, I lie and smile and cry for them, but in the end, if they knew it wasn't true, they would hate me all the more for it. What's wrong with lies? Do you know?" She asked seriously now, almost beseeching me, yet still she wouldn't turn to face me.
"We like to think we're powerful, indestructible, you get that much, right? Well when someone lies, and people believe it, they feel stupid, and when they realize it was for their own good, they feel weak."
"Even when for all intensive purposes, outside the mind, the lies are truth?"
"Especially then, because we like to think we know everything, and if we know we got fooled, we'd feel stupid, gullible, we'd be mad."
"Even you?" She asked, turning to me now. Her eyes caught the light as she approached, shooting a strange fear through my veins, so intense I almost stepped back, as if to flee. "You didn't know it did you, that I'de been lying, all the time to you, all the time, and you feel for every cent." Her voice was cold and ruff, reaching out and tracing my jaw line with her finger.
"No you haven't," I replied, stepping forward, almost yelling now, "You know you haven't and all you want is to protect your self, shy away and hide in the corner, all alone again because you think that being alone is the only thing senonomous with being safe. You're not the one in danger Illy, believe me. And don't lie to me when you answer me, I might not be your master but I am plenty capable of plenty of things regardless."
"How do you know?" She asked, her voice still rigid.
"Because I'm scared of you, and I've never been scared of you, I'm scared of what you think you are, what you lie and say you are, what you tell everyone you are. I'm scared of her." I replied, watching her icy figure melt away, the blazing red eye dulled again behind it's glass encasement. "Tell me honestly Illy, am I really special, or am I just another blood splotch on the wall. Am I another Louis, another Clementian tomb, or do I not even have that, will I just fade away in the the world like Eugenie?" She tensed at the names that fell of my lips, but looked at me fully now, as if she hadn't ever seen me before.
"What I'm saying is, I don't think I can either. I would never tell this stuff to someone I would set free, even if I could wipe their memory."
"Can what?" I replied.
"Can live, without you." She replied slowly, her voice soft and cautious.
"Well I for one, think you're gonna have to." A cold, malignant voice broke the silence like glass, and we both turned abruptly to it's source at the doorway. Glowing like a devil, stood the Queen, her piercing red eyes flaming like embers. She wore the same black suit and ruby fastened cloak as the day I first me her, when she had fallen asleep. But she was not alone, as behind her stood Master Clementia, glaring murderously at me, his blond hair and bejeweled white suit shone under the dim staircase light.
"Who awoke you, Mother?" Illy asked, her voice trembling, though I'm sure she could tell who awoke her by looking. I stepped closer to her, trying to shelter myself from the glaring red eyes.
"Are you not happy to see me, your own mother? A little birdie woke me. They told me I might have some cleaning to do, but I told them that often times when I clean, in the end, the floor ends up dirtier than when I began, but the birdie seemed alright with that. Are you alright with that, my beloved little devil?" I looked to Illy, but she seemed stunned, like a deer in the headlights. Her big mismatched eyes glowed with intensity as she shifted closer to me, her pupils visible in the centers of their vibrant fearful disks of color. How dreadful was her red eye, scared of it's own creator, caught between it's own selfish desires, and the evil that prevailed from it's Mother's. The conflict was wrought in her face.
"No Mother, I can't say I'm terribly happy about it."