Music
"Please, Lord Brigham, if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask it of me."
The words played over and over in Aesus' head, and he had said nothing, despite a thousand things he wanted to ask her. He'd only been able to offer a simple nod as he walked into the aged room that Chalea had spent the better part of an hour preparing for him, and he missed the subtle sound of the door shutting behind him, so that when he turned around to finally vocalize some level of gratitude, he had only the sight of heavy oak to receive his praise.
He released a sigh, but his thoughts did tend to linger; when his mind saw a conflict, a challenge that required solution, what else could he do to appease his nature but to think it through? Still, at the very least, he would have had her call him by his first name.
Such a minor social faux pas would snowball into a sleepless night of bubbling intrigue, about the stunning yet dulled vision of the beautiful girl so unceremoniously employed, the fear and avarice of his clearly troubled uncle, and the wonder and secrets of the castle.
Aesus could no more sleep, than the events of the day could pass into nothing and lead to nowhere.
At first, he was content in letting his mind ride the wave of prattled thoughts that had been building since the death of his mother, while sitting comfortably in an upholstered chair by the moonlit window. Being alone with his thoughts was often Aesus' favorite passage of time. As a child, he used it as an escape from the world around him, as his mother was indeed a whore, and the always busy. She was always engaging portions of his mind that she believed would raise the lad to live by his own design and own view of what a just, true world would be.
Instead, they worked to seize all perception of the truly depraved acts he'd witnessed as a child, and now that same talent to ignore his surroundings for the sake of idle thought was meant to soothe him into a readied slumber.
...much to his eventual admission and dismay, it wasn't working.
Aesus' head raised as he felt a chill - a sort of lingering presence. It hadn't been terribly long since Chalea had shown him to the room; could it be her still attending to duties this time of night?
He rose and opened his chamber door. A blast of cold air flooded the doorway as Aesus poked his head out and glanced down the silent and dark hallway, one that left an eerie and foreboding chill down his spine. If it had been anything at all, it was certainly gone now.
He released a sigh before going back into his room to find something warm in the wardrobe. The wardrobe was hopelessly bare, and so Aesus dressed like he might for any outing in his warm overcoat, even going as far as to adorn and lace his boots as to shield even his feet from the cold - though at the moment, his only destination was out the door and to the left.
Now, a back-up plan for a failure in his own thoughts usually consisted of a warm drink and a book when he was a child, but he knew no better the way to the kitchen any more than the library in his few brief hours in this enormous place (and to be honest, even considering waking his kind hostess at this hour for such a mundane request as a glass of milk seemed terribly inconsiderate). That didn't mean he was against trying to find his way on his own; even getting lost in his uncle's home would likely prove a tiring and time-consuming process.
In this instance, he wasn't so much concerned for the means as for the end result, that ironically never came.
[Hours later, 25 minutes before sunrise…]
The means to lull a man to sleep; it was said that music would tame even the savage beast, yet Aesus supposed that didn't apply to the one playing, in the end.
He had no way of knowing just how long he wandered about before he found the spacious observatory, that he'd learned served as both an eye to the heavens, as well as a studio for an impressive array of musical equipment. The contents of the room were terribly dusty and disheveled when he'd arrived; it was clear that the room hadn't been graced with a visitor in some time.
After playing his interest with simply viewing the contents of such an exploratory space, he began fiddling with various instruments, finding most generally unplayable in their current condition. He was ready to be on his way, to continue exploring for a way back to his room or the kitchen, when he spotted a dusty lute leaned haphazardly against the wall near the telescope. A quick puff lifted a cloud of dirt off the instrument before he let a curious finger pluck one of the tightened strings.
A note rang out, clean and pure as it echoed about the room. It was in that moment that Aesus forgot all wanting of a late night snack, or curiosity in the house at large. Instead, he remained in that room, plucking gleefully at the lute strings for a while longer, before taking it with him in search of a better spot to play - only to find himself outside in the cool morning air, continuing his pursuit of his new discovery. And there he would be found, leaned against a column, perched on the railing of the grand stair looming over the garden, playing the lute, even humming along when he found himself so bold.
Deeper within the castle, Maedus lurched forward in his chair, drenched in a cold sweat. Cursed visions, nightmares again. Each night the images tormented him, growing worse each day. Grateful that it was still dark (as nothing would be worse than being blinded by the sun's first light), Maedus stood from his chair, stretching widely with a sort of youthful exuberance before he noticed the hole in his window. Having forgotten breaking the window with his candlestick only hours ago, his arms dropped and he looked at the hole with a sort of annoyed, but equally perplexed expression.
He gazed around the room, and he managed to recall a selection of memories from the muddled pile of images from his dreams as he noticed the absence of his light source atop his desk. It was enough reminder for the eventual but guaranteed trigger than would put his mood on a bad footing from the get-go.
Maedus walked to the window and peered out, propping himself up on the windowsill. Already, the light peeking over the horizon, and the mist-shrouded hillside was cast in a ghostly faded glow. He rubbed his temple as he thought with dread over what his day would hold; his body may have benefited from the short rest, but his mind was no less fatigued. Strained and constricted, his thoughts seemed to melt like drifting glacial ice, and focus was nonexistent when it wasn't on the Grimoire of Consecration - a device meant only for gods, though it seemed the darkness within the pages could condemn a madman to delusions of grandeur.
It was undeniably true that here in his grips were the very secrets of life and death, destruction, and inevitable rebirth.
He turned from the window and his eyes immediately landed on the book, its cover barely catching the traces of light past the man's sinister presence. He moved slowly, gliding towards his desk as he let a hand rest on its brittle pages. His eyes shut and he took a deep, quivering breath as he leaned forward and let his eyes ease open to the writings below. He wasn't reading, as he had no mind for work at such an early hour. No, all he wanted was to feel its presence - a simple touch, which brought to him a sort of deep and benevolent comfort that terrified him as much as it entranced him.
The spell could've easily taken hold again, if not for the plucky melody now carrying into his window. The sound was entirely familiar, as he knew the instrument well. It was his instrument, and in that moment, he recalled a true love of it in his youth. He returned to the window to attempt to trace its source, but the music carried from too near for him to see at his height. His first guess was the garden, and so he left his study with no delay, but no real haste, as he made for the stairwell.
As the castle began to wake, Chalea's eyes fluttered open and she groaned, noting that the sun hadn't yet begun testing across the land with its soft, warm rays. Her face was warm from its place near the smoldering embers that were all that remained from her arduously acquired fire. She sighed, somehow sensing that today was going to be a day unlike any other.
As she placed a small metal jug of rainwater onto the flames, grateful that the leaks in her roof had spared her the trip downstairs in her tired state, she began running her silver brush (her only true possession that had any kind of value) through her hair, using the colored panel of glass that was her window as a mirror. As she looked upon her multicolored reflection in the archaically designed glass, she dismally noted the lackluster manner that her hair hung limply over her pale shoulders as she braided it, and the absence of shine in her eyes that she had once prided herself on. She looked dead tired, although in His mercy, God had spared her the dreadful bags that were often associated with plagued dreams and sleepless nights.
Once she had braided her hair in the typical French fashion and had pinned it up in a circle atop her head, Chalea returned to her jug, and carefully poured its contents into the ceramic washbowl that sat on her ancient dresser. She sighed as the warm steam dusted away her morning weariness, and proceeded to wash her face and neck. The process was quick, and in the dim twilight, she readied herself with the mechanical exactitude of a trained house employee.
As she drew on her daily dress, a soft melody caught her ears just as the sun began to rise. It was a familiar one that she had both heard and performed many times, and its close proximity made her wonder if, by some miraculous occurrence, Maedus had decided to forsake his inner malevolence for the excuse of a lively tune. Looking outside of her window, she saw nothing through the stained glass, and, against her better judgement decided to investigate.
She tiptoed to her door, as though even the slightest noise might disturb the strange melodious miracle, and reached up to remove her white cloak from its hook by the lintel, tying the heavy brown rope around her neck to hold it in place before hiding her head beneath its spacious hood. It billowed out behind her as she hurried downstairs, her feet enshrouded in a pair of thin slippers she saved only for going outside.
Scurrying out through one of the many side entrances, she found that she had unconsciously taken herself into the rose garden.
Yes, there was that familiar tune again, and its power had increased now that she was nearing the entrance to the main gardens, now barren from the cold and drenched thoroughly from the previous night's storm. As she meandered through the roses, she remained surprisingly unresentful, having convinced herself that if the source of this melody should indeed be Maedus, then he must have been in one of his more lucid (that is to say, less violent) moods. She closed her eyes as the melody approached her, and in spite of herself, began to sing along.
"He laugh doth taunt the mockingbird, her eyes lay waste to the sun," she chirruped sweetly as the lute sound grew nearer. Oblivious to whenever was playing, she continued, momentarily lost in her own nostalgic recollections. "And when her hand doth enter mine, our soul combines as one, as one, our soul combines as one! And every single man alone, would want a woman to call his own, but I do thank the stars above, for my beautiful lady love, my love, my beautiful raven-haired love!"
The last chord rang out, and Chalea realized that the man with the lute was not Maedus, as she had so foolishly imagined, but Aesus, whose company she now realized she would much rather enjoy.
The boy was in a sort of trance - lack of sleep aside, the lute he'd found was an amazing outlet, and despite being void of any structural training other than what his own intelligence could grant him, it provided him with the first night of normalcy. He was finally beginning to feel like himself.
It's a strange thing, when you love someone; their demons, their vices, and sorrows and shame, all fall away and what remains is that vision of magnetism and comfort. What could be so horrible as to sever all bond of blood? A mother's death is just that - the loss of yourself, and a void that remains in your stead.
So, it was no surprise that the only tune he could manage to play after his few short hours with the instrument was a lullaby. (In truth, it was a ballad of the heart, but it had been sung softly over his bedside so Aesus knew it as a tender serenade that shined a virtue and bond between a mother and son.) He could not so quickly shed his grief, the song was proof of that... but a lyrical voice, drifting up the stairs below him, was an unexpected but welcome surprise.
Even the first rays of the sun seemed to wait until Chalea's arrival before finally peeking over the horizon with warming light.
He continued playing; enamored by her voice he found no difficulty in continuing, though the closer to the source, the less practiced and lyrical his playing likely sounded.
She bowed her head politely. "Good morning, Lord Brigham," she said graciously, subtly noticing the bags under his eyes as she curtsied deeply. When Chalea finally met his gaze, he had already a warm smile to greet her. "It seems you've found my Master's lute... an old thing, I realize, and quite out of tune… do you enjoy playing?"
Aesus' smile melded into a sort of smirk at the recurrence of the term 'Lord'.
"Please, I am no Lord, and certainly not your master," he replied, still holding to his confident grin.
Chalea could hardly believe her ears. Had this boy really just made a joke about Maedus, knowing full well that Maedus could have been in the vicinity, listening? How deplorable! And yet... one could almost say that he really was only jesting with her, and that hadn't at all meant to insult her or her master.
Aesus placed the lute in his lap, arms resting on the instrument at an angle as he shifted and let a leg dangle off the rail. "Yes, music is something I have always enjoyed, though I can't say my talents are to be held in any sort of high regard. Is… music something you also enjoy?"
She nodded slightly. "My Master attempted to teach me the lute once, when we had seen better years... but I'm afraid the extent of my musicianship extends no further than my voice, and a few notes on my flute. Also something my Lord should not hold in high regards." She laughed gaily, something she hadn't done since... well, since she had a reason to.
She smiled under her hood, realizing that her hair was beginning to work its way loose from her braid. A strand of black fell down into her sapphire eyes and she brushed it away, pulling down her hood in order to attempt to pin it up. Alas, the blasted thing would would not bend and continued to wisp about despite Chalea's efforts to tame it.
Why she was dwelling on this trifle was a mystery to her. Perhaps she was hungry. Or perhaps she was only looking for a means of distraction, a subtle excuse for not returning Aesus' intent gaze, which felt as though it were examining her, searching for the soul she no longer had. Or perhaps it was something else she did not recognize, it having been so long since anyone showed her any kind of respect... or friendship, for that matter.
"Why must you call me 'Lord'? Aesus will do fine," he added after a moment, before nervously averting his gaze to the lute. Chalea looked up, nodding to show that she understood him when he requested she call him by his first name.
"Of course, Aesus," she replied, although her voice held no less formality that when she had addressed him before. "My apologies."
Aesus inhaled slowly, unsure of how to respond. The way the sunlight bounced off her skin was visually petrifying, and though his pride made it difficult to admit, he feared the embarrassment of being caught on a glance too endearing. Still, his mind moved quick enough to regain some composure; face the issue head on, as it were.
"I... feel the morning suits you well..." he mumbled, still glancing down in his lap, but he steeled himself and looked at Chalea before continuing, "... before strain and passage of the day has dulled a radiance envied by even the sun."
"The morning suits me no better than the next," she insisted softly, the blush that she had been attempting to fight intensifying as it crept onto her ears and over her nose. She looked back at him, her best attempt at a joking smile on her face as she added gaily, "But I must protest! The sun possesses all the radiance man has ever known, while I am no more radiant than a flower, wilted past its prime."
Her mind began to wander and she felt a slight pang of guilt. Did she really like the young Brigham? Or was she just being fooled by what seemed like an eternity of waiting for Maedus to become cognizant of the errors he had undergone? That, she couldn't answer with what limited knowledge she had of the world, but she did know was that at that very moment, she could honestly care less. Aesus had just compared her to the glory of the sun! (She was almost certain that Maedus had once made a similar reference regarding her beauty, but that all seemed so long ago...)
She paused. "I... trust your room was to your liking? If you prefer, I could prepare another... it was made up in haste, I'm afraid."
Aesus shook his head slightly. "I'm afraid I must confess that the fruit of your labor went highly unindulged last night. I haven't slept a wink." He glanced up in disappointment at his own overcompensation - he supposed discourtesy was one means to downplay his praise. "That's not to say, I didn't find it to my liking." He finally hopped off the railing and moved closer to Chalea. "... I simply had an all too commonly restless night that led me to this. I didn't know I possessed any sort of musical promise, but I must confess I feel a certain shine to it." He extended his arm, offering the lute to Chalea. "I'm sorry. I suppose I should have asked first."
Chalea could feel herself heating up involuntarily. What little she had left of her magic (after all, Maedus hadn't managed to destroy her essence of life), tended to act up in the presence of strong emotion, which at this point was one she could not define, but which was nonetheless causing her internal heat to swell in spite of the low temperatures. He offered her the lute and she smiled, refusing it gently by pushing it back towards him. Her unusually warm fingers brushed his hand and she snatched them back quickly, hiding it in her sleeve and cursing her clumsiness.
"Please," she replied. "It's much better kept with you. Your music is quite wonderful to my ears, if not to yours, and I'm afraid my Master no longer plays it as he used to. If it makes you happy... then you may use it as you wish."
She sincerely hoped that Aesus would accept her offer, since she knew the chances of his survival were very slim, and that in his willing time left on earth, she wanted him to be as happy as possible. The loss of a family member as close as a mother to her son was no easy event to pass by, and though Chalea knew she would never feel that pain, it was simply in her nature to sympathize as if the victim were she herself. Nevertheless, it hurt her immensely to think she would be unable to stop whatever Maedus had planned with this boy, and so she decided to do whatever possible to please him, knowing that Maedus would be beyond furious at her actions.
Suddenly, her fingertips began to tingle, and she stopped. Maedus was nearing, if not already present and watching in silence. Disguising her haste, she bowed, motioning back in the direction from which she had emerged.
Hoping to evade Maedus' jealousy, she smiled and said, "Come, Aesus. You must be famished. Let me show you to the kitchen; perhaps you will find something there to your liking. Unless, of course, you wish for your Uncle to join you, in which case I would be more than happy to serve you in the dining room... whichever suits you best, my Lo- er... Aesus."
The young man seemed to accept her offer, as he smiled and held out his arm for her to grasp.
"Breakfast sounds excellent," he replied, feeling his face redden slightly as her small hands clasped onto his bicep. "Lead the way, m'Lady."