{1} Honnleath

He saw her eyes move to his lips once more and follow the thin trail that stretched upwards from his once normal upper lip. Like so many women had done before, she stared at it absent-mindedly, unaware that her gesture might stir some bad feelings in him. As her eyes lingered on the thin scar, he knew exactly what she was wondering.

It had been five months now since they had been together. He thought she deserved to know.

‘Do you know how I got this?’ he asked almost in a murmur, the tone he always used with her, and only with her, when they discussed their most intimate issues.

Her eyes met his and she looked flustered. He couldn’t suppress a slight grin. His voice had provoked the desired effect.

‘I...imagine you earned it after a strenuous fight.’ she answered with pride in her voice, tracing the scar with nothing but a soft brush of her index while she pictured her brave Commander leading a troop in a battlefield.

‘No.’ he replied, watching her surprised expression with delight. He took her hand in his and kissed it tenderly, leading her away from the lake

‘Come with me.’

...

They walked the streets of Honnleath and soon arrived at a gloomy and apparently abandoned two-store house, surrounded by an unbelievably still vivacious garden. Someone had been tending the flowers while the owners were away, it seemed.

He raised his head to gaze longingly at the place with a melancholic glance, and then slowly walked through the small path that lead to the entrance. She followed him without uttering a single word. He would explain soon enough why he had led her to that strange location. She had grown so used to the Commander that she knew what his long periods of silence meant by now. He was probably overcome by some strong emotion and was reminiscing memories of old. Many of these memories he refused to speak about, either from the pain or the melancholy they evoked whenever he was forced to relive them. It would be best not to ask too many questions before he took the initiative to explain.

He moved his hands towards both sides of his neck, seeming to pull something from inside his robes. A faint silvery glitter told her he was removing a hidden necklace, whose pendants were not jewelry, but small keys. How had she failed to notice he wore it all this time?

Maker’s breath, the man is full of secrets.

His fingers closed around the largest key and he unlocked the door, beckoning for her to enter.

‘Come in.’

...

The house was in complete darkness and absolute silence, and the eerie night wind produced an unpleasant sound. He hastily shut the door behind them, making her jump suddenly. Apparently unaware of having scared her, he lit one of the candlesticks resting on a table near the entrance and proceeded to carry it. The two of them were enveloped by the dark, except for the tiny spot of light between them. For a moment, they quietly stared at each other, mesmerized by the effect the candlelight had on their faces.

It illuminated his honeyed eyes, making them sparkle more intensely as it was reflected on his steady gaze. The yellow glow caressed his suave face, highlighting his handsome lips in a delicate way. But his intense brow, always twisted in a deliciously mischievous expression when nurturing sensual thoughts about her, now seemed to hint at even more mischievous visions as both stood alone, hearing each other’s breaths in the still, sweet darkness.

She wasn’t sure if her own expression betrayed those notions, but his eyebrows quirked ever so slightly and a short, satisfied noise came from his throat, as if he had guessed what went on her mind.

‘Well, now that we’re here, would you follow me to my room? It’s on the second floor.

‘Y-your room?’ she replied, yet again surprised ‘So this is...’

‘My home. Or at least it was until the Blight.’  he replied in a melancholic tone ‘Mind your step. These steps are rather...untrustworthy.’

He waited for her to follow as they ascended carefully, holding her hand all along.

‘Is this place abandoned?’

‘Oh, no. My family pays one of the local gardeners to watch over it. He and his family live in a cottage nearby. They mind the house during our absence.’

‘How long have you been away?’ she remarked, noticing the thin layer of dust wherever she touched.

‘Ten years or so, I guess. It’s no wonder they think we’ll never return. No guests to welcome, no need for cleaning so often. Careful, that step is faulty. My foot used to slip every time I stepped on it. Took a few years to find out it was my brother’s doing.’

‘Your brother? How so?’ she asked in an amused tone. Cullen grumbled a bit before answering.

‘Apparently our father convinced him there was nothing wrong with a bit of pranking. Actually, he rather enjoyed watching me and my siblings tease each other.’ he snorted and smirked. ‘So one day, my youngest brother thought it was a good idea to pass some butter right on the doorstep of my sister’s room. For... revenge reasons, you know. She could get insufferably smug after winning in chess.’

‘Did he really get upset that much?’

‘You didn’t know my sister. She was the eldest of us four. If she weren’t so...concerned with her younger siblings, I’d write to her more often.’ his voice hinted at feelings of mild nuisance.

‘Later on, he found it so amusing he decided to try again. This time, on the other side of the stairs. The whole brilliant idea behind it was to get the quietest of us to lose his temper. Turns out it was my mother who almost fell from the stairs and someone got locked in their room for the remainder of Summer. Never saw my brother try it again. Or at least for a whole year, when father convinced him mother had already forgotten the whole affair.’  

She pictured his family for a moment, with the thoughtful mother always looking out for her sons and daughters, teaching them to perform their duties with discipline. Then, the father, proud of his wife, but still keeping life in the house cheerful by making his kids go out and play, just as siblings should. No wonder they were so loud, as Cullen once told her. Happiness and order under the same roof. A perfect combination.

‘You must’ve been very happy here.’ she suggested.

‘I was.’ he confirmed in a joyous tone, so atypical to him. ‘I keep fond memories of my childhood.'

And always drew strength from them during the harshest moments of my life. , he thought privately.

A hint of jealousy struck her, but she said nothing. There were no pranks played in the Trevelyan household. Nor any loving mother closely watching her children and teaching them right from wrong when necessary. Only a palatious estate full of relatives, each in their own room with their own duties to perform and a majestic dining room where once she used to sit, filled with unspoken words, remorse and regret and a deafening silence.