Chapter 37
“Get up, boy! Breakfast has been ready for nearly a quarter hour and you have slept through the roster’s calls” Barnabus intruded into Seneca’s room, throwing open the curtains. “Your mother will wonder why you are not punctual today, it is unlike you.” he said gruffly as he left the room with the same quickness with which he had entered.
Seneca rolled over, trying not to move his head lest the nausea make him sick. He often felt this way before a full moon, and even worse after. There was no cure for it, only time. He had tried every tea he could get his hands on, tried not sleeping if he knew he would feel sick when he woke up, and yet he still felt terrible the morning after. No smokes, flowers, or potions could make him feel better. Well, except for that one time that she fixed him.
Seneca carefully put his feet on the floor, grabbing the bed post to steady himself. Whether he dreamt of the girl or not, he still felt sick. He dreamed of the spinning sky every full moon night, and he was usually alone with no one to see him or disturb him. But the girl… There was something different and he couldn’t pin it down.
He carefully stood up, trying to keep his head level and not move it too quickly. He had learned how to take care of himself since he was a child and would get sick overnight. He used to hurl into the bushes outside or his chamber pot, but he had trained to stomach the throbbing head, heart plummeting nausea.
Carefully, he changed into clothes for the late summer day, noting that the bruise from the skirmish the other day hadn’t faded yet, and it was still tender. He had to learn to fight better. No one would follow someone who would lose in a fight. He had to be a good leader for any of this to eventually work.
Careful not to bounce on the way down the stairs, he sat down at the humble place setting that had been placed for him by Barnabus’s wife. She kept them all fed while Seneca’s mother planned meetings and rallies, and Seneca was trained by Barnabus in the ways of hand to hand and sword fighting. He was decent at it, even on par with his peers, but not good enough to beat them consistently.
“It’s good you’re up. You look pale again, were you up late?” His mother asked in a sharp tone.
“No, I just didn’t sleep well.” he admitted. Which wasn’t true; he slept like a rock, he just woke like this.
“If you worked harder you would be more tired at night and you would actually fall asleep.” His mother looked back at her book.
Seneca didn’t bother arguing. He wouldn’t win, and no one ever one in an argument against his mother. She didn’t believe that he was sick all the time during the full moon, and she didn’t pay enough attention to him to put the pattern together. She had other, more important things to worry about.
She never made time for him. Why she still believed that eating breakfast and dinner together were important when they didn’t speak to each other was beyond his understanding.
Barnabus walked into the room just as Seneca was looking at his breakfast, a light brown mush that didn’t seem like it would be filling and didn’t make his stomach any happier by looking at hit.
“Boy! Hurry up and come with me, we have training to do. You’ll never beat Henry if you don’t train harder!”
“Barn, I haven’t even had a bite of food yet,” he half heartedly objected.
“Did I stutter? I said to come with me, you do it! I won’t take insolence or a wimp! Now, outside with you!” he shouted like a drill sergeant.
When Seneca’s mother was finding a place to set up her settlement, Barnabus had been her right hand man, and he had shown Seneca little love over the years. Unless Seneca was displaying how strong he could be and was being actually impressive, he would goad him and tease him that he wasn’t doing better. Perfect Henry could lift two women on a bench, Seneca could lift the bench. He wasn’t a storybook character, he wasn’t super strong no matter how hard he tried, but the driving never stopped, and he kept getting pushed.
The scars made it hard to forget not to cross Barnabus, and his mother didn’t say anything in objection either. He was their soldier, a piece of their puzzle, and he would comply or he would be set in line.
“Raise your sword, boy. Show me what you’re made of.” Barnabus egged on. “Or can you not beat a man in his 50s?”
“Maybe not a man who’s entirely muscle, no.” he muttered, lifting his sword.
~*~
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Aubade asserted as he came up on Gloria. She jumped as he seemed to come out of nowhere.
“I’ve been busy- studying.” she turned away from him.
“No, you’ve been avoiding me, just like how you won’t look at me. We’ve barely spoken since last Saturday at the ceremony. What’s wrong? Did I offend you?” he asked.
“No, I just- I’ve been busy.” she repeated.
“Too busy to talk to me for ten minutes in the last four days? Gloria, what’s the matter?”
She turned bright red and looked around to make sure no one was nearby. “I, I hadn’t been kissed before and then you did it infront of everyone. And you said you- You think I’m the one you’re supposed to be with. That’s a lot to take in.” she sputtered.
“Who else am I going to spend the rest of my life with if not you?” he asked.
“I’m 15! I don’t know who I want to spend the rest of my life with! How am I supposed to respond to that? I don’t know what to say, Bl-Aubade.” she had been thinking of little else while practicing her magic the last few days. The kiss and admission of love and the will to spend the rest of their lives together was overwhelming. For Creator’s sake, she’d only known him a month!
“But I know. Gloria, I feel drawn to you, as if you complete my life. You finish me in a way I never thought I would feel whole again. I feel like I have found my purpose in life when I am near you, and I don’t want to have to think I have to look for someone else.” he sighed. “I know that it’s sudden, and I am willing to wait to be with you. I will take this as slowly as you like, I promise. But please, consider me.”
She looked at him with nervous but tender eyes. “I’ll think about it, I promise. And next time, a bit of lead up to a kiss would be nice.” she smiled a small smile.
“I’ll think about it.” he said as he closed the distance between them and kissed her smiling mouth.
~*~
Seneca woke up in the swirling sky world. He closed his eyes and knew that he should appreciate the lack of nausea while he could, tomorrow morning it would hit him like a sock full of coins.
He smelled lavender nearby, it’s earthy, nearly herbal smell tingling his nose, like the freshest soap. He wondered if it was the flower that the girl had been searching for. It was a strong enough smell to drift for a distance, perhaps it was.
He sat up and took a deep breath. Yes, it was lavender, and the smell of the waterfall hitting rocks. How would he entertain himself this time? Count the number of windows there were in the greenhouse? Look at his reflection in the pool at his regal clothes?
He turned his head and out of his better ear he heard the faint strains of… what was it? He followed to sound until he caught his breath. It was the girl. The red hair girl dressed in white and sparkled like the stars. She was holding a similarly white box to her shoulder and was pulling across it with a string. It looked like a guitar, but a guitar is plucked, not… stroked?
Seneca hadn’t heard much music in his life, only when the occasional bard came through and his mother allowed them to visit the town to see. The town was too busy being ready for war to focus on art forms. He had never learned how to appreciate music, but seeing the girl sway back and forth while she whimsically played her instrument was breathtaking. The term ‘play music’ had never made sense to him since he didn’t have time to enjoy himself, but he had memories of before he was made to fight and told that he would conquer, memories of a time when he was a child and playing with whatever he could find. The girl seemed to be playing the instrument.
He watched her, hoping that she would never stop. His heart beat with each note she played, swelling with the crescendos and falling with the progression. She reached a good ending point in the music, and Seneca felt that it was time he told her he had been watching.
“Hello.” he greeted, not too loudly, but also not too softly.
She spun to see him, gasping. “I didn’t know that I would see you here tonight. I thought I was alone.” she stared at him. She had never been afraid of him before. In fact, she usually acted as if he weren’t real, which was odd. Of course he was real.
“I’m here pretty often, but I didn’t see you for years. Where did you go?” he asked inquisitively.
“I didn’t go anywhere.” she answered simply. “I’ve been busy.”
That didn’t make any sense to Seneca. What would a dream character be busy with? Or- was she like his guardian angel? That didn’t make any sense either, so he scrapped the idea.
“What are you doing with the whit box?” he asked, drawing closer.
“It’s called a violin. I was surprised to see one here. I used to play it as a child, but I haven’t had much time to play since then. I’ve been too busy.” she looked at the instrument with a fond look. Again, it didn’t make sense for a dream character to be busy. They didn’t have jobs around here, and he had inspected the whole chunk of floating rock. There were no other structures but the greenhouse. There were no jobs, no houses, no stores. If she wasn’t here, where was she when he didn’t dream of her?
“I didn’t get your name last time, what should I call you?” he asked before he could forget to catch it this time.
“I didn’t tell you? I could have sworn… I’m G-”
Seneca blinked at his ceiling, cursing.
Taadaa! Another brick laid in the house that is this story! Any theories forming? Any theories changing? Any guesses? I'm curious as always, but will neither confirm or deny anything.
I'm going to remind you of the prophecy so that it's fresh in your minds.
“There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword. He will tear down your doors but you will be happy when he comes.
There will come a poet, whose weapon is his word. He will slay you with his tongue, a trickster to be sure.
There will come a ruler whose brow is laid with thorns. He will be your rival and greatest danger in this world.
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