Chapter 38: Scars
In the chambers designated for the Peacock Harpy guests visiting the Castle, Lady Charula sat on a white wooden chaise lounge.
It seemed very much out of place with what she viewed as the rest of this dark, dull, and intricate décor of the room. A sea glass green, and bottle blue velvet was thatched in that chevron weave, that Queen Charula was so used to. Studded with white pearls in gorgeous intermittent intersections. She had this brought with her traveling here, to assure that she was allowed the form of some comforts of home and familiarity.
'Raven's truly had no taste,' thought the Peacock Queen. As she lounged.
The servants were not the ones who had helped pack and take their luggage away. No. It had been soldiers of the Royal Guard, in their dull and dark uniforms.
Lady Charula couldn't help but observe the way they assessed the room; the door where her son had still lain sleeping the morning away and packed away what was needed in a way that also felt to her as if it doubled into a search.
What exactly here would I even want to steal or take? Gritting her teeth and saying nothing, as the soldiers pawed away at their things and packed.
She missed the blue-hued and ruddy servant girls; at least they had a shimmer of something... other. Their mannerisms were more polite. More respectful...
This was why Chaitav had been threatened by his mother to be cut off and removed from the Royal Peacock Household, stripped of all titles, heritage, and land. If he ever lay hands on one of her personal servants again. However, they were all back home.
She wondered if, perhaps, she should have laid the groundwork to prevent Chaitav from acting out in the way that he did. She shook her head, "No," she said to herself as she lay back to look at the ceiling. Specks of gold bounced off the polished grey ceiling and onto her. Leaving her beige eyes looking as though they contained hundreds of golden stars. Chaitav is of an age where he is more than accountable for his actions, Prince or not. In such a light, there perhaps was a beauty to her.
Sighing to herself as she mulled over the prince' conduct on this outing.
She had begun to miss home greatly. Their lands were so different. Their culture was... antithetical to their own in so many ways. Her younger son's longing for a monotoned mate, and one such as a raven, perplexed Lady Charula. Though it had been long since she gave up hope that Chaitav would finally see sense in his whimsical wishes. Those fantasies and how he acted on them... troubled
Lady Charula greatly but in her Kingdom, this was quite normal as a way for mates to be claimed.
It wasn't how she was mated thankfully! but she didn't want her son to claim his mate through those customs.
Many other Clans, certainly the Parliament of Owls, remained largely unaware of these customs. While those more remote, more distant, and more exotic... such as the great Parrot Clans of the far, and remote, great jungles distant east. Not many this far West had ever flown remotely close to that side of the world. Those Clans, closer to the Peacocks all viewed and believed that this practice of theirs was barbaric and outdated. Viewing it largely as distasteful.
Coming here had never been the Peacock Queen's want or whim. She hadn't tried to indulge Chaitav but rather hoped that by coming here, of all places, he would come to reason that the want for such a mate like a raven was impractical. For many, many reasons.
While she thought of her son, the door to his sleeping quarters opened, and he sluggishly moved down the stairs to the general living space of the quarters they'd been given. Mouthing a great yawn, he glanced at his mother, draped in a beige velvet cloth with that same intricate repetitive V pattern and pearl embossment.
Her bored beige eyes studied the pattern of the golden layers embedded within the delicate patterns of the wood, glinting gently. Guiding the light around the room, the chase lounge created a reflection of golden water all across the room, reminiscent of a grand peacock's tail with long ovals and fans. "I still can't believe you brought that." He jested pointedly. Not yet fully awake with another mouthy yawn.
In nothing but his boxers, his mother rolled her eyes at his demeanor, "You're such a disappointment." Her tone still held boredom, as it did every other time she had said this to him.
Used to such attacks by now, he no longer reacted or countered anymore. Not even shrugging it off, he acted as though it were never said, "How are you getting that thing back?" Again, referring to the piece of furniture.
"Lady Nox is happy to have it shipped over upon our leave." Lady Charula moved to study the cuticles of her talons - beige, beige, and beige.
"Hrmp," Chitav half-sat, half-leaned on a wooden with a twisted base and column, "They're holding you're prized piece of furniture hostage until I'm gone." It was a statement more than anything. His tone was bored but held its probing quip.
Lady Charula looked again at her son, "No. No, they are not." Her voice quickened, "These things take their time. We are leaving in a rush. We need to return, Chaitav," Emphasising her son's name, "I already have one wedding to help plan and prepare. A daughter-in-law to meet. Your actions here have quite finished your odds, and those were not so good to begin with." Each sentence is a harsh lash at Master Chaitav.
"Now, hurry and get dressed." She threw the only suit of his, not yet packed away. At that, he stood and went back up to his sleeping quarters.
Not moments later, he was back down, still in nothing but his boxer shorts with a towel in hand, "If we're leaving so soon, I want to be fresh for the long travel back."
Keenly, intending on heading to the baths one last time. It was perhaps, one of the most pleasant features since he had arrived and at least he could feel clean for returning back to his Kingdom without any great success... without any success at all.
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With it being late on in the morning, all of the households were now up and active. The scent of freshly baked breakfast pastries floated through the air of the castle from the kitchen in the back. It made Chaitav's mouth water. An aromatic and comforting reminder of home.
He did want a mate, a monotoned mate who wasn't beige and boring. As he strolled through the marble stone halls with nothing on but his blue boxers, which matched his proud and flamboyant cobalt wings. not even footwear to shield his feet from the cold and slick of the grey-speckled marble floors.
It teased his stomach, which knawed and growled loudly at the familiar scent.
After the events of the other night, and his mother's informing him of the Raven Queen's dismissal of him from her entire Kingdom. Chaitav knew very well that he would not be a welcome sight at the breakfast table any longer.
Our culture is just too sophisticated for these squawks to understand. He supposed.
Branwen, the servant girl, turned the corner up ahead, coming from the back with her arms full of towels and as Chaitav glazed over her appearance board, he noticed tasteful green noble robes amongst the towels. Was there a noble-born here in the castle?? Was she a friend of the princesses? The azure-feathered prince pompously considered.
It was only as the servant girl passed him, closely, and he stole a glance at her face properly and appraisingly, did he jumped slightly at the two large fresh scars that trailed down her cheek. Pinkly fresh.
"GAHH!!" Flailing his arms as he jumped away from her.
The servant girl flinched, startled by his abrupt upset. Only to seem to sink into a type of sorrow, realizing why this strange male had reacted in such a way. Her arms were full, so she could not instinctively touch the scars on her cheek.
She kept walking otherwise. Her dark shoes tapped lightly against the floor as she walked away.
Their echoes bounced around the hall, growing more distant as Chaitav watched the female walk away.
The further away she was, the more composure he regained. So young... and yet to be... soo ugly!! Who could ever want that? It was partly culture for him to think in such a way, but it was largely his own ignorance and arrogance.
Finally, his hand touched the door to the baths, and the residual steam from the connecting room escaped gleety as it opened. Scenting the air, and overtaking the aroma of the pastries completely.
Ahh, thought the Peacock Prince, this is just what I need.
Branwen often forgot they were there some days... but reactions such as this were the harsh reminders that balanced that forgetful bliss.