Whitney Writes…

The hanging gardens before her glittered in the warm, low lantern light. Small butterflies flittered around the blossoms. The sound of chirping birds echoed off the stone hall. If one sat and stared at them for long enough, Fadiya found one could almost convince themselves they were actually outside. Whether it was real, or a mage’s illusion, Fadiya had never been certain, but she had always admired it all the same. It had taken some sort of skill to create it.

There were footsteps echoing up the stone staircase behind Fadiya and her heart sunk. She had thought she had come to a remote enough part of the palace for no one to have found her for a while. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. She rubbed her temple, steeling herself for whatever demand this intruder would have of her sovereignty.

When the person sat down on the bench beside her – unbidden – Fadiya was about to unleash the wrath of Oblivion upon them. But when she looked up, she saw the golden face of Ralof. Her husband. Her heart fluttered, she softened and immediately deflated. He gave a quiet chuckle as her head sank to his shoulder, her crown grazing his cheek and nearly slipping from her head. He caught it effortlessly in his lap, Fadiya had not even made a move to stop it. Ralof felt that spoke volumes about how his wife was feeling.

“What is it, my love?” he asked gently.

Even when Fadiya remained silent, unanswering, for far too long than should be socially acceptable, Ralof did not repeat himself nor ask again. He knew she had heard him and she would answer when she was ready. It was one of the things she loved about him. He did not have to fill the silence with his own unease towards her feelings. He was one of the only people in the palace that just… let her be.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she finally said, her voice scarcely a whisper. “They all loved my father so, and I cannot help but feel every thing I do is a misstep. No matter what I do, whether I try to help them or do what’s best, it never seems to be what they want. Even when I know it’s what they should want.” She took a deep breath, wondering whether to say this last part aloud. “Sometimes…” she ventured, her voice faltering, “sometimes… I look for assassins, like the one that killed my father.”

“Oh, my love,” Ralof began, “you know you are safe. Between Ulfric and myself -“

“No,” Fadiya interrupted, “you misunderstand me, husband.” She swallowed, “I hope to see an assassin coming for me. To end this.”

It was Ralof’s turn to be silent. Fadiya’s heart hammered in her chest, fearing his reaction. “Please, say something,” she begged, sitting upright and turning to her husband.

At first, Ralof would not meet his wife’s gaze, his green eyes boring into the limestone floor. “I think,” he said slowly, after some time, “you should turn your attention to something meaningful to you.” His gaze slid up to finally meet hers, that strong, unwavering gaze of his that always managed to plant Fadiya in the here and now. “Do not focus on the approval of others, you will never please them all, my love. And you will drive yourself mad by trying to do so. All you can do is try your best. So, I think you need to focus on a matter that is important to you.” He took her hands in his. “Whether it be building a children’s shelter, advocating for farmers, or something else, you must find your own purpose. Your own legacy. Not your father’s.”

Fadiya took this in, more than relieved with his answer. “I do not even know where to start, Ralof.” She took the crown from her husband, “I do not even know what I am any more without this garish thing.” She turned the crown over and over in her hands.

“Where is the girl who loved adventure?” Ralof asked. “The one who snuck out of her father’s balls to go exploring and adventuring in the halls?” He twined his fingers through hers. “I have only heard stories of that girl, I would love to meet her.” His smile lit up the room. “She sounded like she knew exactly what she wanted.” Fadiya couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What about that chamber in the haunted wing you used to tell me about? The one you found when looking for your mother?”

Fadiya’s skin prickled, remembering the living nightmare of that doorway. Of those fingers on her arm…

She could not tell if it was fear, or excitement.

Inktober 2024, Prompt #12: REMOTE🧡🖤👻🎃