[ P ] betrayed on holy ground

“She’s refusing to eat, milord,” the servant sheepishly delivered the daily update on Eleanor's condition. Valther’s tail coiled around his paws, tip lashing restlessly. It seemed that the more he flourished she withered. Eleanor was determined to ruin his day by spitefully starving herself and he would have happily let her join her uncle in the afterlife if it wouldn't ruin the reputation that he had pain-stakingly built for himself. “Perhaps it's time I pay her a visit,” he suggested, lips twitching in displeasure. He had ignored her so far, having neither the time nor desire to deal with her. Wolves died everyday and the world still turned. He couldn't understand the fragility of the heart. Witnessing Odysseus’ broken heart and Eleanor’s endless grief brought him no closer to discovering why. It was a weakness that would be their undoing and he wanted to remain blissful in his ignorance.

The guards moved aside and allowed him entry to Eleanor’s room. Without announcing himself he stepped inside without an invitation and looked upon her pitiful form with an expression of disgust. “You’re being very selfish, Eleanor. I don't have time to come and to deal with your tantrums,” he complained, “Pull yourself together. I need you presentable within the week. I’m hosting a party and you will be attending,” Valther commanded, watching her expression for the fire that had once burned within her.

code: elyon | art: ashon

Click! Like a lockbox snapping shut, all that was Eleanor Calyx was sealed away. Valther could search all he wanted for the bonfire that had blazed within but he’d have to join her in the ashen wasteland it’d wrought. An uncomprehending haze muddled her features as his accusations and demands ceased, pale gaze ghosting over the unfamiliar planes of his aggravation, scrutinizing the stranger for something that might reveal who he was to her or, at the very least, what his fucking problem was.

“I’m sorry,” her tight tone suggested she wasn’t, “but I’m not doing anything until you tell me who are you? What party? And where is Cecil? I keep being approached by wolves who claim he’s dead, offering their condolences or cursing him, but that can't be true. We were together just last season before I returned to Eòlas. He sent a message only a few days ago asking me to come home.” Those weren’t the only questions she had, but the rest were stonewalled by her clenched jaw, Eleanor swallowing them back. Take it slow. Her body could barely sustain the panic tightening her chest in its current malnourished state, let alone while anticipating answers that wouldn’t make any sense to her disconnected mind, but eating had become such a chore that, eventually, she gave up attempting to force any food into the endless pit of frenzied nerves occupying her stomach.

code: elyon | art: ashon

The emptiness that had dulled her precious gemstone eyes had been polished to an indigent glare that rivalled the arrogance of the pampered princess the stray from the streets had met over a year ago. A smell of must and musky wolf lingered in the air. He was irritated by how easily she could meet the eye of her uncle’s killer with her head held high when she had been rotting away silently so far. Valther wanted her humbled and tamed. He did not see a meek little doll willing to play along with his whims and he wasn't happy. Her wisp of a voice dealt another blow to his ego Eleanor was determined to play games it seemed. Claiming ignorance of his identity and Cecil’s fate. It was unforgivable. He had shaken her fragile world and crumbled her castles. If she wanted to set the board against him then he would be the one to call checkmate.

He decided to play along to see how far she would take her act before it broke her will. “If that's how you want this to go. Very well. I’ll remind you, dear Ellie,” he answered . “I am Valther Calyx, Cecil Calyx’s adopted son. You and father quarrelled over my addition to the family and you left the estate. He grew sick in his grief and unfortunately passed away before you could reconcile with him. You haven't left your room since the funeral in spring. It's now summer,” he gave her a recap, testing if she would challenge him on his version of events or if she would show her true colours and challenge him on it. He truly relished playing the cat rattling the cage of the captured bird.

code: elyon | art: ashon

The will that Valther wanted to break was already in pieces. Eleanor could not remember the events of the last several months, but her heart and body and mind—they felt them. Like the phantom pains from a missing limb, she could sense that some part of her had been lost. She just wasn't sure which part until the words play on his lips, watching the motion of his mouth like a silent film and interpreting the words rather than hearing the unbelievable truth be delivered.

Cecil's corpse was cold in the ground and decomposing. But Eleanor's torment is visceral and alive. "N-no, t-that isn't true. It c-can't be." As though sensing the truth that she feebly fought to deny, even her voice wavered.

Although everyone in Rionna knew that her castle had already fallen, Eleanor was only just now seeing the ruins of it, standing alone in the ash and crumbled stone. All she could do was find the strength in her frail legs to hold herself up when her body failed her, agony deepening the hollows between every visible bone with each sob. The void in her chest was begging for oxygen, but every lungful she swallowed ignites into flame.

Red-rimmed violet eyes sought the face of the man who had destroyed her world not once but now twice once Eleanor mustered the resolve to gather herself, swallowing her sobs. Whatever mask Valther thought concealed her true intentions was fully removed. What stood before him was not a version of Eleanor that needed taming; she was as docile as he could ever hope her to be, a distraught baby fawn who had mistake a starving lion's possession for a promise of protection. There was but one thought on her mind that eclipsed the questions she didn't have the energy to ask: "Will you take me to him?"

code: elyon | art: ashon

The show of will that Valther had misinterpreted as a final act of defiance from his caged bird was nothing more than a paper tiger that folded easily when faced with reality. Her denial was almost convincing, but he wasn't naive enough to believe in those crocodile tears. His coppery gaze turned to stare at a spider on the ceiling while she bawled and cried out in denial, idly watching as it spun its web and dangled above them. It was more interesting than listening to her histrionic performance.

After what seemed like forever he finally deigned to pay her attention when the sobbing finally ceased. Her teary purple-silver eyes met his and he felt a thrill at seeing her look so beaten and pathetic. The bitter memory of the spiteful princess that had sneered at him for his humble beginnings made this moment for him as sweet as honey. ”Will you take me to him?” she implored him, deferring to him instead of demanding.

A smile formed on the murderer’s mouth as he answered. “Of course, Ellie. After you eat and bathe,” he instructed, laying out his conditions, enjoying the power he held over her. “Father wouldn't want you to suffer like this,” he adopted a tone of false sincerity and a mask of concern. The act continued, but Valther was unaware that he was the only one playing a part.

code: elyon | art: ashon

"You're right." Her agreement came remarkably quickly. Eleanor saw the sensibility in his condition, even if her stomach felt too turbulent to withhold anything of substance or her throat too tight to allow food through. But if that's what it would take to visit Cecil, there was nothing she could do.

The meal that'd been brought to her had grown cold through the morning's neglect, so a new portion was ushered up and delivered by the servants. They groomed and tended to her while she forced down as much food as she could, all the while being inspected and observed by watchful amber eyes. She was too exhausted to question the suspicion he regarded her with.

When she finally finished, she met his gaze with curiosity in hers, as well as a flicker of that defiance that survived the ruination of her world, daring him to add any other terms to their deal. She wasn't the picture of health but one meal and a cursory wash down wouldn't change that.

code: elyon | art: ashon

It was her unusually agreeable response that made him consider that this act of her’s might actually be genuine. Eleanor wasn't good at acting. She’d never been able to curb that attitude of hers even if it disappointed her uncle. Valther even smiled a little when she said his favourite words. Music to his ears. Much better than that wretched sobbing. He didn't leave the room to allow her privacy even as she was attended to, groomed and fed, his gaze lingered.

With a full belly and presentable appearance he could see a little of the old Eleanor in her defiant eyes and doubts about her supposed amnesia crept back in again. What if she was trying to fool him so that she could later stab him in the back? He didn't get as far as he was in life by trusting others words so easily. “Good enough,” he said, after sitting in silence and appraising her appearance for a long drawn out few minutes.

“But..." he began and trailed off on purpose. "You must be exhausted. Allow me to carry you to the garden,” he suggested firmly, forcing fake concern for her so that he might see her twitch with rage at the thought of a filthy mutt like him touching her. Was that a line that she was willing to cross all for the sake of her act? Valther had his doubts that the prideful princess would ever let a beast like him sully her golden locks.

code: elyon | art: ashon