Children of Fire and Sun: The Rebellion (Updates Resume From July 2024)

Chapter Nine: Maysa (Æscford)

"Humans have an innate attraction towards violence."
- Severus Legolas, a saint.
~•~

The cruelty of the past years had taught Maysa when to put a shield around her heart.

If she did not wear one, then it would be her heart that would shatter. It would cause her heartbreak, which would have deterred her from her path, her chosen destiny. They were all but performers on this stage, ready to play their assigned parts until death claimed them. And would it not be unwise if she let herself astray from fulfilling her role?

Yet she could not prevent her traitor eyes from gazing at Remus, as the two of them and their soldiers rode further within the woods to search for any clues that might lead them to Lysa. So far, they had no luck regarding the matter. There was nothing to suggest that they were in the right direction.

The older trees formed elaborate arches, their leaves a vivid shade of green that seemed to glisten in the daylight, a painted visage against the canvas of the clear blue skies. Vines dangled from their branches like a woman's braids. Squirrels flitted amidst the branches. Birds flew overhead. The men talked amongst themselves in hushed voices.

As for Maysa herself, her mind kept wandering back to the night before. Shivers ran down her spine as she imagined his lips on hers. The tenderness in his fingertips as he cupped her cheeks. Or the warmth of his tongue as it explored the uncharted territories of her mouth, setting each part of her being on fire. A fire that only his touch could quench. No one ever made her feel like that. No one ever could save for him.

Maysa had never been kissed before last night, nor had she longed for it ever. Her cheeks flushed crimson at the thought. She did not get the chance to tell Remus about this. At this moment, she knew what to tell him and what not to. Her heart clenched and swelled with a hundred emotions, most of which she could put no name to. Yet one question kept coming back to her - did she love him as more than just a friend?

What if he doesn't love me the same way? She tucked back a strand of hair that had escaped her double braids. Maysa was thankful that Remus rode a little ahead of her. She did not want him to see her as these thoughts swirled in her head. He seemed to know about her thoughts more than she herself did sometimes.

A mistake, a voice repeated in her head, it is a mistake. Is it not what he said the night before? He never had meant to kiss her. It was a mistake that he had committed, an act that resulted from not thinking twice. Perhaps it was their long history together that had made him vulnerable in the face of her tears. But what if she wanted something more?

Maysa grazed her nails against the leather of the saddle. "Remember how you taught me to ride?" She said aloud, unable to bear the silence any longer, burdened by only the voice of her thoughts.

Remus turned around, a bemused expression on his face. "Yes?"

"Yes, don't you remember?" She replied. "I was adamant about trying to be a rider and kept asking you to teach me. Baba was afraid that I was harassing you."

Remus laughed, the rich baritone of his voice washing over her like the first sip of karah on a winter morning. "You were a spirited eight-year-old. No matter how hard I tried to dissuade you, you refused to give up." He slowed his pace to be closer to her.

"And then I resorted to bribing you. With honey cakes," a sparkle emerged in her eyes, as those muddled thoughts retreated in face of the joyous memory. "You gave in after that."

"How could I not? You were so persistent in your attempts." He said. "Even when you used to fall down and scrape your knees, you never cried."

"I had you to hold me in your arms." Her voice was a little more than a whisper, said more to herself than to anyone else. A cloud of gloom took hold of her demeanour.