Rotting_Ink
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Our Last Liaisons: Goodbye
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 20:21:25 +0000 UTCYou knew something was wrong when you woke up. Your home was never silent. It was quieter at night, when the parties were forcibly pushed off from the wing of the palace that had the nursery. When the dining table was filled with nothing but hangovers and people clutching their drinks like a lifeline when you were led in by your nanny to bid your mother good morning with a kiss to her soft, powdered cheek. But that morning…
Dead silence. Horrible silence. Terrifying silence.
It usually meant someone was fighting. Not one of the “nobodies” as Sasha called them. The nobles. The nobody nobles. No, this was someone who was in the family. Someone who mattered.
At first you thought it was Aksana. She was nowhere to be seen when you were led in, hand in hand, trailing after the twins and Stas. She wasn’t in her seat, even though her place was there, as well as her usual cup of tea. You thought about asking, but your mother had the hard set to her lips that always made you shiver.
Then, it might have been Sasha. They had tried to lift you up into their lap on your way out. It was just a ruse, as per usual, to pass you sweets, maybe a present from time to time, without your mother noticing. She hated spoiled children.
“For hell’s sake, Aleksandr/Aleksandra! Put them down! Can’t you for once in your life listen to me?”
You came away from the breakfast table with a little notebook. You never had one before. The lettering practises you and your siblings had always done in a big, dusty book that went back centuries probably. There was never a need for one, even though this one was pretty. Soft white pages, marbled cover. A nubby little pencil tucked to the side of it.
It wasn’t until there was a knock at your door, did you get to find out what had happened, to descend a thick blanket of silence and fear over the household. Your father slipped inside, looking worse for wear. And tired. He had never looked tired to you before. Shouldn’t a man with three step children and four biological children look tired?
He carefully crouched down in front of you- you think you were playing with the model horses Pavel had got for your last birthday, ordered from Kiovia especially- and playfully ruffled your hair.
“So, little one. Have… Have you been talking to your step siblings?” He said slowly, his hand falling down to absent-mindedly pet the black horse you just had run over one of your dolls. Your father had never referred to the children from your mother’s first marriage as your “step” siblings. No, just your siblings and sometimes, jokingly, the only ones old enough to sit with your parents to eat.
You shook your head, too focused on which victim would be trampled on by hooves next. You couldn’t get the thought out of your mind. Pasha had taken you riding with two of his friends and there had been an accident. You only heard the woman slipping into the road, a shout and a swear from his friend, and then Pavel’s hand over your eyes. But you had heard it though. The crunch of bone, the scream of pain, the… Mushing sound of hooves against pulverised flesh. With that thought, you decided for the ceramic girl doll that Aksana had left in your room one day after a fight. You slipped the black horse from underneath your father’s fingers and began to knead it against the prone figure of the doll, specifically her perfect, painted face. He watched, something in his eyes that was growing sadder.
“... Well, you know those soldiers that came by to visit us a few weeks back?”
“Hmh.” You nodded. You thought about hitting her face hard enough to crack the shell of it. As if there was a chance red could come bubbling out from within.
“So, you know how they protect the kingdom? They go around, from House to House- Do you know your Houses, sweetie?”
“Salamander House.” You mumbled, growing bored of the mashing and instead went to examine the horse doll. It was so pretty. Apparently Aksana had gone to visit her father’s sister in Kiovia and spotted them. Then told Pavel about them. It gave you a happy flutter in your chest to know that your older siblings talked about you when you weren’t there. In a nice way. You were always a bit worried that the moment you left their eye line, they forgot about you.
Your father couldn’t help but bark a laugh.
“Salander House, sweetie, and no, that’s the name of our home. But the actual uh… Houses. Descended from the first clans.”
“Aureus, Pardina, Arctos.” You sighed and put the doll down. You could already tell when your father was dancing around a subject, trying to give himself as much time to think about how to say something. “Papa, can I go play outside?”
“Not right now, little one.” Your father sighed before fully sitting down, criss-crossing his legs. “Well… Pavel has decided… That he’d like to go with them.”
The gravitas in his voice made your stomach felt like it was shrivelling, like the slugs the twins found and put into a box of salt. Your tummy could end up the same way. Dried up, twitching, and then put underneath your sheets at bedtime.
“So… He’ll go on the weekends? Like Aksana?” She had asked to go to a special weekend school. She said it would let her become a real lady. Or something. Stas had been throwing his ball around and you know in your heart that it was going to go through the window.Then it did. Aksana’s one sided conversation about her learning proper etiquette was far less interesting than the sound of breaking glass and Stas sprinting down the hallways, desperately trying to find an alibi.
“No.. No, he’s going to go away for… Quite a while. More than half the year, at least at first. Then… Well. Who knows. But, we’ll be okay. And he’ll send letters-”
You don’t remember what happened next. You think you started screaming. You were sure you smashed something with your fist, because when you did come to, your hand was a lump of bandages and your favourite Witch was gently playing with your fingers. And Pavel was sitting there, face clouded with sadness and guilt. Pasha had been in your room plenty of times, nearly as much as Sasha when they swung by to play with you. He didn’t say anything, not while the Witch was in the room. When she finally unravelled your bandages, revealing nothing but a faint pink mark on the side of your hand, she gave your cheek a gentle pinch.
“No more tantrums.” She rose and left, leaving the scent of blood and incense and peppermint behind her.
You could only look at Pasha, your bottom lip already wobbling without your consent.
“I’m sorry, little soldier.” He immediately murmured. You noticed his hair was different. Cut short. His wavy locks missing. Like the men that had come to your home. “It’s better if I go…”
“You don’t gotta…” You fought back a hiccup. “Don’t want you to go…”
Your older brother rested his large hand on your belly over the covers. He seemed just as upset, his jaw tense and his eyes watery.
“But I’m not happy. You want me to be happy, don’t you?” He murmured. “Mama… Doesn’t love me a lot right now. And I know I can be happier with… The soldiers. You know I always wanted to be one.”
“But Mama said you were never going to go!”
“And Mama said she didn’t want us riding horses together. She didn’t want Sasha to dance because… Well, she said some mean things. She didn’t want Stas to be friends with the kitchen boys. Did any of us listen?”
“No, but-”
“But this is my turn. I want to be happy.”
You couldn’t say anything to that. The lot of you were always breaking her rules and only sometimes was it a bad idea. So you stayed quiet. Pavel read you to sleep that night. And when dawn broke, he woke you up. He knew you’d never forgive him if he left without allowing you a proper goodbye. You held hands with Aksana and Sasha, feeling so small in between them, as Pasha saddled his horse, already dressed in a thick woolen coat. He wasn’t dressed like the men carrying bayonets, no. He was dressed in all red, to show what his magic was. The leather gloves over his hands showed nothing but two of his fingers and his palms. A scarf-looking garment that could be pulled up over his face to hide it, showing no mouth or eye holes. He looked terrifying. Pavel, your Pavel, always wore blues and greens. Never reds and blacks and-
Aksana squeezed your hand. Pavel was coming closer, his breath coming out in frozen puffs.
“Okay. Time to go.”
It felt weird that no one else was here. Your father, Sasha, Aksana and you. Your mother was probably watching from a window. Your father gave him a handshake. Sasha gave him a side hug. Aksana and him hugged for a while before parting, her eyes rimmed red and watery. Then he kneeled down to you, so you two could be eye to eye.
“Hey. Going to need you to keep an eye on them for me, hm, little soldier?” He smiled gently.
“Hmh.” You nodded, your thumb tucked into the side of your mouth, your teeth slowly kneading the flesh. Pasha reached up and tugged your hand away.
“Good. C’mere.”
You let go of Sasha’s hand and wound your arms around his neck, snuffling into his shoulder. He squeezed you just as tightly, breathing heavily. He was still warm, despite all the layers between you.
“Okay.” He said after a while. “I have to start moving, or they’ll leave without me.”
You hung on tighter. They didn’t deserve him. You promised yourself that you would never be glad that he went, not even if your home was on fire and you were about to watch your entire family die. Pavel gave a soft laugh and slowly untangled himself from your little arms. He patted your head and left.
You had to watch him go. His favourite horse swishing her tail and he only looked back once, to wave. You didn’t notice you were crying until Sasha gently wiped away the tears from your face, and led you back inside.
Comments
Kathell
I LOVE THIS SO MUCH
