Chapter 19: It's So Over
The warm glow of the fireplace casts dancing shadows across the opulent living room of my private dorm. The crackling flames provide a soothing background melody, a stark contrast to the tension that hangs in the air like a heavy curtain. The room, with its plush velvet sofas and intricately woven tapestries adorning the walls, feels oddly claustrophobic despite its generous size.
I'm sprawled across one of the sofas, my uniform rumpled and my hair disheveled. The rich, comforting aroma of spaghetti and meatballs wafts from the silver tray beside me, but for once, the sight of my favorite dish does little to lift my spirits. Instead, it serves as a poignant reminder of the turmoil that has consumed my life these past days.
My sisters surround me, their presence both comforting and intimidating. Diana stands tall and imposing by the fireplace, her shadow stretching across the room like a looming giant. The flames cast a fiery glow on her icy blue eyes, making them seem to burn with an inner intensity. Lydia perches on the arm of a nearby chair, her vibrant red hair a stark splash of color against the muted tones of the room. Rowena sits cross-legged on the floor, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the intricate rug.
Diana's voice cuts through the silence, sharp and stern as a blade. "Elwin," she begins, her tone brooking no argument, "you have been holed up here for the last week, only going to class and eating spaghetti. What happened between you and Rolo?"
I flinch at her words, feeling like a butterfly pinned under glass. The weight of their collective gaze presses down on me, making it hard to breathe. I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. How can I explain the tangled web of emotions that has ensnared me?
Lydia leans forward, her hazel eyes wide with concern. "Yeah," she chimes in, her voice softer than Diana's but no less insistent. "Rolo has been skipping class. Did she hurt you, and now she's afraid to see me?"
The question sends a pang through my chest. It's not Rolo who has hurt me, not really. The image of the mysterious stranger flashes through my mind her piercing red eyes, the curve of her lips beneath her mask, the way she had made me feel so alive and yet so vulnerable. The memory of her refusal to reveal herself, of the realization that she might be using me to cheat, cuts deeper than any physical wound.
"It's... it's very complicated," I begin.
Before I can continue, Diana's hand slams down on the mantelpiece with a resounding crack. The sudden sound makes us all jump, the tension in the room ratcheting up several notches.
"She hurt you, didn't she?" Diana practically snarls, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "That rotten bitch!"
The vehemence in her tone takes me aback. I can see the muscles in her jaw working, her entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap.
A sad smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "Diana," I say softly, meeting her blazing gaze, "she didn't hurt me. I probably hurt her. I just... wasn't that into her."
Diana's brow furrows, confusion replacing some of the anger in her eyes. "Then why are you moping around?" she demands, her voice softening slightly but still carrying an edge of frustration.
"I..." I start, then pause, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat. "I fell for someone who I think already has a lover."
The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.
Rowena's soft voice breaks the silence, her words cutting through the tension like a gentle breeze. "Just tell her you're a Warbringer," she says, her grey eyes wide with innocent confusion. "She'd probably drop that lover to the curb."
"Someone who would be willing to drop a lover like that probably isn't someone worth pursuing," I reply, my voice heavy with resignation.
Lydia lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes so dramatically I fear they might get stuck that way. "You know," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "you've got four sisters who are foaming at the mouth for you, bro."
"Relax," I manage to croak out, my voice sounding strangled even to my own ears.
Diana opens her mouth, her ice-blue eyes blazing with an intensity that makes me shrink back into the sofa cushions. Whatever she's about to say, I'm certain it will shatter the fragile equilibrium we've managed to maintain.
But before she can speak, the door to my dorm swings open with a dramatic flourish. The sound cuts through the tension like a knife, causing all of us to startle. Our heads whip around in unison, eyes wide with surprise.
There, framed in the doorway like a vision from another world, stands our mother. Queen Morgana Warbringer, in all her regal glory. Her presence fills the space, seeming to push out all the air and replace it with an aura of power and authority.
Behind her, a veritable army of guards fills the hallway, their armor gleaming in the flickering firelight that spills from the doorway. The clanking of metal and the rustle of fabric create a cacophony that echoes through the previously quiet space.
"Stay outside," Mom commands, her voice ringing with authority. The guards snap to attention, their faces impassive behind their visored helmets. As one, they take a step back, forming a living wall in the corridor.
On Mom's hip, a sword hangs in an ornate scabbard, its jeweled hilt glinting dangerously. The weapon, a symbol of both her authority and her legendary combat prowess, seems as natural a part of her outfit as the crown perched atop her raven hair.
Her piercing green eyes sweep the room, taking in the scene before her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. A smile plays at the corners of her lips, softening her regal features.
"Oh, I see a family meeting is going on," she says, her voice rich and melodious. The smile grows, a knowing glint in her eye as she regards her children.
Diana, ever the serious one, steps forward. Her ice-blue eyes are wide with urgency, her posture rigid with tension. "Mother," she begins, her voice tight with barely contained emotion, "this is serious. Elwin is dating women, and he broke up with one, and now he's fallen for someone with a lover."
Queen Morgana tilts her head, the motion causing the light to dance across her crown. Her smile doesn't falter. If anything, it grows wider, taking on a hint of mischief.
"I know," she says simply, her voice carrying a note of amusement. "Elwin has been sending me letters, unlike you three."
My three sisters exchange bewildered glances, their expressions a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
Lydia looks at me. "You send Mom letters?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch with each word.
I shrug the motion. "She sends them too," I reply, nodding towards the ornate writing desk in the corner of the room. Its surface is littered with parchment and quills, evidence of my frequent correspondence. "It's kinda fun sending letters."
Lydia's face contorts into a snarl. "To your mom, though?" she spits out, each word dripping with disdain.
I meet her gaze steadily, a small smile playing at the corners of my lips. "She's your mom, too," I remind her gently.
Mom's laughter fills the room, cutting through the tension like a warm knife through butter. She glides across the plush carpet.
"Look, Diana," she says, her voice rich with amusement and a hint of exasperation, "the whole point we sent Elwin here was so he could fall in love."
Diana's brow furrows, creating a small crease between her eyebrows. Her lips part as if to protest, but before she can speak, Mom continues her graceful approach towards me.
As she reaches the sofa, she gently places her hand on my head. Her touch is warm and comforting.
"And I hope it goes well for my boy," she murmurs, her voice soft and full of maternal affection.
Suddenly, her tone shifts, becoming as sharp and dangerous as the sword at her hip. "If anyone breaks his heart, though," she declares, her voice ringing with authority, "we will go to war. No questions asked."
I can't help but groan at her words, the sound muffled by the plush sofa cushions as I bury my face in my hands. The embarrassment burns hot on my cheeks, spreading down my neck and across my chest.
Diana, ever the loyal sister, straightens her posture. Her eyes blaze with determination as she meets our mother's gaze. "Of course," she says, her voice firm and unwavering. "No one will hurt Elwin and live to see the day."
The room falls silent again.
It's Rowena who finally breaks the quietness. "Mother," she asks, her grey eyes wide with curiosity, "why are you here then?"
Mom sighs deeply, her emerald eyes softening with concern. She gracefully lowers herself onto the plush velvet sofa beside me, her ornate gown rustling softly as she settles.
She takes my hands in hers.
"Well, sweety, in your letters, you said you've only been eating spaghetti and meatballs. I thought it was a joke at first, so I checked with your chef."
Her brow furrows slightly, creating delicate creases in her otherwise flawless skin. The concern in her eyes is palpable, seeming to radiate from her very being.
"Honey, that isn't good for you," she continues, her thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand.
My sisters nod in unison, their faces a mixture of worry and agreement. The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for my response.
Diana steps forward. "Think of your figure," she says, her ice-blue eyes scanning me critically.
I feel a flash of indignation, my cheeks heating up with embarrassment and anger. "Mom says I'd be cute if I was a little chubby," I retort, glaring at Diana.
Mom's head whips around, fixing Diana with a look so fierce it could melt steel beams.
"Of course, you'd be cute if you gained weight, my baby boy," Mom says, her voice warm and soothing as she turns back to me.
She reaches out, her fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. "But that's not the issue here."
"I've been speaking with a nutritionist. We all agree that your current diet is... lacking." She finishes.
I feel a surge of frustration welling up inside me. "Mom," I say, my voice coming out sharper than I intended, "tell me you didn't fly here just to get me to stop eating spaghetti and meatballs."
The room seems to collectively hold its breath, waiting for her response.
"No, of course not," she says, her voice steady and authoritative. But there's a slight tremor in her hand as she reaches up to adjust her crown, a tell-tale sign I've learned to recognize over the years. "I had business elsewhere," she continues, the words flowing smoothly from her lips.
I sigh deeply, the sound seeming to carry the weight of a thousand uneaten vegetables.
'I can't really tell her no if she went this far to get me to stop.'
Mom's eyes perk up, a spark of excitement igniting in their emerald depths. "If you stop," she says, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone, "I can offer you something I think you'd like."
The promise in her words hangs in the air, tantalizing and mysterious. I can feel my sisters leaning in, their curiosity palpable in the suddenly charged atmosphere of the room.
"I'll stop eating spaghetti, Mom," I concede, the words feeling strange and foreign on my tongue. It's as if I'm bidding farewell to an old friend, one that has been a constant comfort through these tumultuous times.
Rowena's face lights up like the sun breaking through storm clouds. She claps her hands together, the sound sharp and joyous in the quiet room. "Finally!" she exclaims, her grey eyes shining with relief and excitement.
Mom's entire body seems to relax, the tension melting away like snow in spring. "Thank the gods," she breathes, her voice filled with a mixture of relief and triumph. She reaches out, her hand coming to rest on my head once more.
"Do you know the swordsmanship department head?" she asks, her voice casual but with an underlying current of excitement that piques my curiosity.
I furrow my brow, trying to recall if I've ever crossed paths with this mysterious figure. "No," I admit, shaking my head slightly.
Mom's eyes light up, a mischievous glint sparkling in their emerald depths. She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's an old friend of mine," she reveals. "How would you like it if I set up a date with her for you?"
Diana's face contorts in confusion, her eyes widening in disbelief. "General Sufri?" she exclaims, her voice a mixture of shock and awe.
Mom nods, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.
I feel a flutter of excitement in my chest, a spark of curiosity igniting within me. "How old is she?" I ask, leaning forward slightly, my earlier melancholy momentarily forgotten.
"Mid-forties," Mom replies, her tone casual as if discussing the weather rather than a potential romantic match for her son.
The thought rolls around in my mind, gathering momentum like a snowball down a hill. An older woman... The idea is intriguing, exciting even. I can feel a blush creeping up my neck, warming my cheeks. "Is she pretty?"
Mom shrugs, her ornate gown shimmering with the movement. "I think you'll like her," she says cryptically, her emerald eyes twinkling with secrets untold.
I consider it for a moment, weighing the possibilities in my mind. The image of a strong, mature woman, battle-hardened yet elegant, forms in my imagination. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. "Alright," I say, feeling a surge of anticipation coursing through me.
Lydia's face scrunches up in disgust, her vibrant red hair seeming to bristle with indignation. "Mom, that's gross!" she exclaims, her voice rising in pitch.
Mom turns to her. "She's a good friend," she explains patiently, her voice carrying a note of pride. "I trust her with my life and, more importantly, with Elwin's heart."
I break the silence, my voice filled with a newfound excitement. "When can I meet her?"
Mom's smile widens, her entire face lighting up with joy. "I'll arrange everything," she promises. "You just focus on eating a balanced diet, or else I'll cancel the date."
I frown. "I got it. No more spaghetti."