Eternally Missed » Places

         

|| c y e l e n a ||

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He’d spent that whole hour there in that chair and hadn’t moved. One would think that when one were cold enough, they would move from their place to seek warmth; but Cyelena wasn’t one. Cyelena was a Queen. More technically he was a King, and a dethroned one at that, but Kings where always portrayed to be so thick and rigidly built wearing hideous furs with big round pot bellies. Queens were refined and beautiful, powerful in mind and presence, and Cyelena felt that this image suited him rather well. He felt regal and commanding. Or rather… he felt like he should’ve been. Actually, truth be told, he didn’t feel much of anything right now as the cold had numbed most of his important nerve endings in his body. The only thing he felt was the way the leather pulled at his skin when he tried to move, and he let an inaudible breath pass through his lips—because the sound of exasperation in a sigh is undignified, of course—knowing that he was going to have to move eventually. His eyes stayed locked onto the glowing coals and for a fleeting half-second he was cold enough to consider stoking the fire himself the way he’d always been excited for as a child, when his father finally taught him to build his own fires. Ah, there was a time when Cyelena was a normal little boy, but it was oh so long ago. Now he was a Queen and queens don’t stoke their own fires. He had a valet that had told him that once or twice before he got the idea.

His head tilted slightly in the direction of the painfully loud sound in such a long and empty silence and he recognized immediately that it was the doorknob turning, the latch being released from its hold and the door being pushed forward on its hinges. It must’ve been time for morning tea already; this was a routine Cyelena had been used to from the time he was sixteen and he didn’t plan on giving it up so easily. If he had not a butler or a valet at his side then it was Cargeus’ job though that didn’t always go over too well, but it was perfectly all right now because Tinario was the butler he needed to do the job. Only… Cyelena wished that he hadn’t had such a smart mouth on him. Otherwise he was a perfectly desirable employee for a queen’s services. He was capable, he was intelligent, and he was hard working. He was handsome. Pictures of Queen Cyelena’s court revealed his rather refined—or some would say shallow—taste for beautiful men, and some even featured his delinquent of a son, nearly an eyesore in comparison to the well-dressed and neatly groomed manservants, but Cyelena always kept him close in their photos; these were all on display on the mantle, along with a 12x9in of a much younger Cyelena sitting on his throne for the first time with the crown jewels in hand, an ornate silver tiara cresting his delicately styled up-do of fiery red hair, and a thick white shroud draped over his shoulders tied with a twisted gold cord. Most notable about the picture was his smile and bright eyes. Thinking about that always made him a little nostalgic—they’d told him to look serious, but he felt too much pride in his ascension to the throne straighten his face.

Voice was the next sound he heard, and it was almost taunting. Yes, Tinario definitely earned all the torment that Cyelena put him through, that was for sure, because for all that torture, Tinario gave it back just as hard. It was amusing to the former queen, actually. It was some of the only entertainment left for him as far as social interaction went. “And risk soiling the hands of royalty? Don’t make me laugh,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his eyes fall closed with his head held high, even if the tall back to the chair masked this action. The haughtiness was in his voice, which was surprisingly deeper than one would imagine just looking at him, but clear as crystal and soft, powerful, commanding, all at once. “You should know your place by now, Tinario. Bring me my tea and build my fire up; I won’t say it twice.” Of course, he was always on guard with the butler; he was never quite sure what was next going to come out of his mouth, and there was a sickening feeling attached to that. One of the last things left for Cyelena to feel, however… he’d not only grown used to it, but also rather looked forward to it in the morning. No one, in as long as he could remember, had ever denied him anything.