Home

??? POV:

I did not expect her to be this thin. To be this frail and easy to carry. I did not expect her to weigh something close to a child, not to a grown woman. 

Ever since that evening, I have watched from afar, but I have never noticed the way her cheeks had hollowed until now. I had not noticed that the spark in her eyes was dimming , drowned in sadness and worries no woman should hone and bear within her. Now I can't help but blame myself. And I will not dare blame anyone else for not saving her, because this was my duty. Not theirs. 

Do I blame them for hurting her? Infinitely! What monster, what creature or wicked animal would ever chase their own child through the woods? What for? To drag them home and have them obey their every whim? When did mankind become so wicked? 

The scent of blood had filled the forest and was now intoxicating my lungs. The smell of fear and terror had drawn the attention of every single beast, pulling them out of their hiding spots. All wanted a bite of her, but no one was allowed to get near. No one even dared to go near, because they knew. Weird how animals simply knew she was off the menu, but men chose to use her as a trading object.

The moment she had stepped foot on my property, no one could lay their hands on her anymore. Was she mine? Far from it. Yet. but she did not belong to them anymore. The moment her foot stepped in the meadow, all and any links to them were severed and the vow of keeping her safe was immediately reinstalled. 

Now, she was slowly drifting to sleep in my arms as I walked up a very familiar path for me. The darkness of the night offered us silence and a strange, comforting intimacy I had been craving for centuries, while the closeness of our bodies was a treat I did not expect to receive so early. I was not going to complain! I could never complain for having her close to me. For having her scent creep into every corner of my mind and bring out memories, feelings, cravings I have buried for far too long to even name them anymore.

As I walk through the gates of the castle, it feels like a heavy rock has been lifted from my shoulders and for the first time in centuries, I can breathe freely and walk with ease.

“Welcome home~” the words slip out of my lips as we walk through the tall arch of the entrance in the castle.

***

Nesta’s POV:

“Come back, you piece of-”

“Nesta! Run! Run, child!” 

“Get back here!”

“When I get my hands on you again, I’ll make sure to break those wings of yours so you never fly away! And If you dare think of it, I’ll break you too!” 

Nightmares. Tireless voices echo in my head as the shadows of the nightmare creep further into my mind and try to keep me from waking up. But their spell was broken with a loud gasp when one of the faceless men sank their knife into my chest, forcing me awake. I jump out of the bed and stumble forward, the blanket wrapping itself around me like a trap, only adding to my frenzied mind. 

“No… no - no no-” I mumble as I try to fight my prison, while my overwhelmed mind tries to grasp the reality I was living. 

“You’re fine! You’re fine! I’ve got you!” a pair of arms catch me before I hit the floor, a low, husky voice smoothing over the frenzy that clouds my head and my thoughts. “Breathe-” I feel someone taking deep breath beside me, their chest expanding slowly, guiding me to do the same, while they unwrap the blanket from around my legs, freeing me from the blanket monster that tried to take me down.

After a few deep breaths, my mind seems to steady and the nightmares vanish along with the voices. Now, I stare at the thick, crimson blanket that was spilled over the edge of the bed, looking like a waterfall of blood pooling on the floor. And with the blanket-monster out of my head, my head turns to the one whose arm was still wrapped around my back, supporting me. 

The smell of lavender, musk and smoked alcohol wraps over me like a thick cloud and I feel it smooth over every other monster that lurks in the darkest corners of my mind. I feel my mouth go dry and my eyes widen as I am faced with a familiar ethereally beautiful face. I feel my heart sink into the pits of my stomach as well, when my blue eyes meet ruby red ones and they offer me the most serene and gentle gaze I have ever encountered in my life.

“It’s you-” I explain and my words stop into my throat as the memory of the stranger from last autumn springs into my mind.

The same handsome face, with sharp angles and a sickly pale and absolutely perfect skin, with neatly shaped brows and deep, hooded almond eyes, lined by thick black lashes, with bitten, thick and fleshy lips, with wavy long hair framing everything as if he belonged into an art gallery to be marveled upon by everyone. 

He was so close, I thought I could feel his breath, but I am not sure he is breathing right now, because he seems tense despite all that calmness I can see in his eyes. Out of instinct, my hand reaches up to touch his face, but he does not allow me. He swiftly looks away, and he lifts me up with so much ease I feel like he is about to toss me back into bed, back into the arms of the blanket monster. 

But he does not. As soon as I am sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulls away without another word. I follow him with my eyes, as he walks across the room, to a small walnut table, and fills a glass of water, bringing it to me. He says nothing, but from the way he looks at me, I know he wants me to drink it. I don’t argue, despite the strange awkwardness this brings, and I sip from the water, washing away the horrible taste in my mouth that lingers even after a few long sips.

He walks away, busying himself with a few things I can’t see on the nightstand, and I can’t help but stare. He is wearing all black, a pair of pants and a buttoned up shirt that is closed all the way. He wears black leather gloves and his hair is a bit of a mess on top of his head. It’s cut short to his chin, and most of it is pushed back, combed neatly, while a few strands fall forward, framing his face beautifully. 

My eyes drift away from him, to look around the room. The room is huge, bathed in a warm light from the fireplace. The walls have walnut wood on it and the floors seem to be made of the same wood. Everything holds a hint of crimson, the velvet from the armchairs, the drapes on the windows, the sheets and covers of the bed… There is no painting to tell me who the owner of the room is, but I have a feeling that whoever owns it, quite loves crimson. 

A silly smile crosses my lips as I think of this little remark, but I am pulled away from my silly thoughts, when the man pulls a small stool beside the bed and carefully takes hold of one of my legs, resting it in his lap. Now, I notice the bandages, the stained bandages that my feet are wrapped in and I feel my stomach twist with a bit of anxiety. 

He says nothing, and slowly starts to unwrap the bandages, revealing raw, mean looking cuts that make me gag and immediately look away. I feel him raise his gaze at me and stare a few moments as I refuse to look down again. 

He comments nothing and starts to tend and care for the cuts and wounds, one by one. 

“How long have I been asleep?” I force myself to ask, despite the dryness of my throat and the churning of my troubled stomach.

The stranger does not reply and I feel foolish. For a second, I was not sure if we even spoke the same language, but then I remembered the deep and soothing voice that had spoken to me when I woke up. He did understand me! He simply refused to answer, didn’t he?

“Where am I?” I continue to ask, pulling my legs from his lap, refusing to allow him to help me anymore if he was going to be a cunt. “Who are you?!” my voice grows a bit and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand when his crimson gaze falls on my face again. “I can take care of these myself-” I hissed and extended my arm to grab the iodine and small cotton bud from him. “Give me that!” I demand.

A brow of his goes up with a bit of an amused confusion. I roll my eyes and lean in, grabbing trying to grab the things from him, but he pulls them out of my reach and gets up, setting them away on the nightstand. 

“Do I need to tie you to the bed so you can sit still while I tend to your wounds?” The way he speaks makes my skin turn to goosebumps and my cheeks flush. Was this a threat or a promise?