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After a life full of it, Aderyn tires of silence.
Her first, faint memories are of her father’s chambers in the hours before his death. Her mother, as well as the physicians, refused to let her see him. To this day, she does not know if their intent was to keep her from catching whatever disease wracked his body or to keep her few dim memories free of death. They failed, at least in the latter, for her only recollection of the King is slipping into his rooms in the dead of night and standing in a shadow-shrouded corner, watching him until his chest stopped moving.
As far as she knows, she never said a word to her father.
After that things grow more vivid, but they lack sound all the same. The late king became a study in negative space. Her mother and the advisors talked around him, as if decades ceased to exist as soon as he did. When she grew old enough to question the absence, the same people quashed her curiosity before it could become anything more. The one thing she wanted more than anything to talk about and the words were yanked from her mouth.
It’s the same thing she feels now, as if someone is reaching down her throat and snipping away at any budding confession before it can flower.
“I will not order answers but I will ask: why have you done all these things? Made Conrad’s hat fly away, paid for the horse’s head to hang above the gate? Why does it speak to you so?”
The King reminds her of the few faint images of her father, frail and hobbling, though the man before her age-weathered, not illness-worn. His eyes scorch her soul with knowing and pity. She wishes that she never swore the oath to her wicked maid; though that was the only reason she still stood here. She has to remember that.
“I cannot tell you, your Majesty, nor can I reveal my sorrows to any human being, for I have sworn to heaven I would not. If I had not so sworn, I would have been killed.” The words sear her throat coming up and she’s afraid she might spew bile over the aged king’s shoes.
“Please, dear girl? I swear I will protect you from any dangers that may befall you from the breaking of your oath.”
She shakes her head, not trusting her voice. He asks her again and again, practically begging but she presses her lips together to stop any onslaught and tries to turn herself to stone.
“One last time, I must ask you to tell me what weighs on you so.”
“One last time, I must tell you I cannot.”
Sighing, he turns to leave when something over her shoulder catches his eyes. “No human being did you say?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Then, perhaps, you might share your troubles with that iron stove over there. I am sure it’s a good listener.” He takes a few steps forward and wraps a wizened hand around her shoulder. “Something needs to bear your burden.”
Though it feels a bit like cheating, he’s just right about the second count as he about the first. She offers him a string-thin smile, before walking over and kneeling before the black behemoth in the corner of the room. Running a finger over the cool metal, Aderyn takes a deep breath. She can do this; silence is no longer necessary. Once again, there’s a tug as she opens her mouth, but it’s not enough to steal her voice.
After years of silence, she tells the iron stove everything, everything, she has left unsaid.