WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 52: The Father

Over the next few days Amaia and White Feather spent their time together, whiling away the hours in talk. Amaia would tell White Feather of her early life, and he would listen with deep interest. Since the moment he had returned, White Feather had never left her side.

‘Precious treasure’ Amaia was saying. ‘That was what they used to call me.’

She glanced to the side, seeing White Feather sitting on the edge of the sofa beside her, eagerly leaning forward as he listened, chin rested on his palm.

Amaia laughed quietly to herself.

‘I remember one day’ Amaia went on, ‘I had to wear my best dress, because my father had hired a painter to paint our little family.’ She smiled to herself. ‘How I hated it. It was so boring for me to be standing in one spot for so long, and I complained bitterly. I remember how annoyed my father was becoming; eventually my mother let me go outside. The painting wasn’t finished, I think the man had done most of it already, and painted the rest from memory. When I was eventually shown the finished piece…well’ Amaia shrugged. ‘I didn’t care for such things back then, but if I were to see it now’ she sighed. ‘I don’t know…’

‘I believe I have seen that painting’ White Feather began, ‘when I visited your father’s home.’

‘I was a beautiful painting, was it not?’

White Feather smiled. ‘It certainly was.’ He lay down, resting on his back as he stretched out on the sofa, gazing at Amaia. ‘Tell me about your cousin.’

‘Gracie’ Amaia said. ‘My father’s brother’s daughter. What fun we had together. I remember the days we used to play in the park, and in the woods. One day my mother made a tree house for us to play in, and we sat in the branches behind the wooden walls she had built, with hats made out of leaves, and we pretended to be pirates. We…’ Amaia went on. ‘We….’

Her eyes began to well up in tears, and she buried her face in her hands.

‘I just miss her so much’ Amaia whispered through her falling tears. ‘I had wished so desperately to see her again….but…….oh White Feather….’

Amaia felt a hand upon her shoulder, looking up to see her loyal guardian standing before her.

‘Don’t cry’ he said, brushing her tears away. ‘Please.’

‘I can’t believe she’s dead’ Amaia said in a hushed voice. ‘I loved her so much, and she loved me so much in return. She always told me so. Every single day.’

‘Remember the good times you had together’ White Feather told her. ‘Hang onto those memories, and don’t forget, your father is still out there.’

‘I hope to see him again someday’ Amaia mumbled, composing herself.

‘You will’ White Feather said. ‘I am certain of it.’

He leant forwards slowly, wrapping his arms around her and embracing her tightly.

‘Never forget’ White Feather whispered into her shoulder, ‘I am here for you. I will always be here for you. Always.’

‘I know’ Amaia whispered back. ‘I know you will.’

‘I love you Amaia’ White Feather told her. ‘I will always protect you, no matter the cost.’

He leant back from her, holding her face in his hands and brushing the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs.

‘I love you’ he said again, leaning forward and kissing her forehead.

He drifted back from her then, taking his seat once more on the sofa.

‘Tell me more about your cousin’ White Feather said, to take her mind off her sorrows.

‘One day Gracie and I found a bird in the woods that had fallen out of its nest. We cared for it, loved it, and shared it between us. I named it Yayew, after a character in a story my mother told me one bedtime….’ She broke off. ‘I never did find out what happened to that bird.’

‘Go on’ White Feather said, eager for her to continue before she started to dwell on sad thoughts. ‘Tell me more.’

‘I loved that little green bird’ Amaia smiled. ‘I loved all animals. I remember saying to my mother that when I was older, I was going to save animals. That I was going to heal them and make them better. That was my dream. But there was one animal I did not like. Alastor.’

‘Who’s that?’ White Feather sang curiously.

‘My father’s horse, a great black stallion. The same one in the field before my father’s home. I used to be so terrified of Alastor. I loved animals, but I hated that horse. He was so big and scary I was frightened that he might trample and kill me. He was the size of a mountain.’

‘That sounds awful!’ White Feather declared dramatically.

‘I’m sure if I met him now that I wouldn’t find him anywhere near as scary.’ She broke off suddenly, noticing that one of the servants was standing by the door, holding a tray of food.

Amaia and White Feather had talked for so long, that Amaia had forgotten what time it was. She had even forgotten to feel hungry. She had not come to her meal, and so the meal had come to her.

The servant entered, silent as always. She placed the tray on the table before Amaia and swiftly left.

‘How come the servants can’t see you?’ Amaia asked White Feather once they were alone again.

‘I can choose to be invisible if I wish’ White Feather smirked knowingly. ‘But my kind are unable to make themselves invisible to a Weather Maker.’

‘Oh.’

‘They can’t even hear me when I speak.’

‘Oh’ Amaia said again. ‘Good’ she finished.

‘I’ve just thought of something’ White Feather said brightly. ‘When we get out of here together, you not only have meeting your father again to look forward too, but meeting Gracie as well.’

‘I’m sure she has changed a lot’ Amaia said, pondering the thought. ‘I’m sure I won’t even be able to recognise her it’s been so long. She was just a child last I knew her…gods…she’d be a woman now…’

‘She probably wouldn’t recognise you either’ White Feather realised, speaking his thoughts aloud.

‘Oh no….what if my father doesn’t recognise me?’ Amaia worried.

White Feather sighed smiling, leaning forward and stroking her black hair lovingly. ‘Eat your food’ he told her. ‘You must be hungry.’

‘What about you?’

‘I will have what’s left’ White Feather told her, ‘and if there isn’t enough, then I can steal something from the kitchen.’ He winked at her. ‘It’s not like they would notice me.’

The servant Sarah, having placed the tray before Amaia and scurried around the corner, dashed back to the kitchen as fast as she could, back where the other servants worked.

‘I’m telling you she must be going crazy’ she spoke in a hurried whisper to them. ‘She’s talking to herself!’

‘Surely not’ another scoffed doubtfully.

‘If you don’t believe me, see for yourself.’

From then on, Amaia would be closely watched by all the servants.

The others quickly saw that Sarah was telling the truth.

The next day, Amaia spoke of her past again.

‘I was so spoilt. I got everything I wanted. All the toys, all the attention, everything, and I never appreciated it. I suppose I didn’t know any different. I loved both my parents, but I never realised how truly good they were to me until I grew up, until recently. I was an obnoxious little brat.’ She blinked slowly. ‘Those were the good days, when I was happy. But then one of my uncles died suddenly, and my father changed.’

A look of concern flickered across White Feather’s face.

‘Brice meant everything to my father, and when he died….’ Amaia shook her head. ‘Grief changes people. My father became neglectful. I never truly understood why…until I grew up. My other uncle, Arlen…he was always there to pick up the pieces. He was always there when my father wasn’t. In a way, he became like a sort of second father to me, and he cared for my mother too, as she cared for him. I saw.’ Amaia dropped her head. ‘Life from then on was miserable. But I don’t like to think of those days. I prefer to remember the days before that, when life was good.’

Amaia lifted her head, holding herself and leaning back against the wall.

‘My parents were so in love. I remember seeing how happy they were together, sometimes they would play-fight as if they themselves were children, and no matter if they argued, they always made up in the end.’ Amaia sighed. ‘In the years that followed, after I came here…to this place, I would think of them…and remember. For all those years I have been trapped in these rooms….how I have longed for such love and devotion as my parents had for each other. How I have longed to love, and to be loved, to have a family of my own.’

‘You are still young’ White Feather said to her. ‘Such things are still possible.’

She turned and walked away, heading to her bedroom, White Feather followed. As they went, the chink of armour could be heard. Amaia paused, seeing a man dressed all in armour from head to foot, standing in one of the archways. He shifted at the sight of her, only his eyes were visible through the narrow horizontal slit in the helmet that he wore. His weapon, a long golden lance with an unforgiving razor end, he held close to his side. His gaze followed Amaia as she crossed into the next room, as always, White Feather was unseen to him.

‘It’s been a long while since I’ve seen one of the guards’ Amaia said to White Feather in a whisper. ‘I wonder why he’s suddenly appeared.’

‘Maybe he wants to check up on you’ White Feather offered. ‘To see if you’re ok.’

‘Maybe’ Amaia replied unconvinced. ‘Maybe he just wants to check up on me.’

She entered her bedroom, closing behind her the double doors.

‘Do you think I’ve been imprisoned here because of my powers?’ she asked.

‘It is a possibility’ White Feather replied simply.

‘Magic’ Amaia uttered. ‘It’s a strange thing…isn’t it?’

‘It is.’

‘I have magic’ Amaia said. ‘I feel it living within me. But even so I feel I know so little about it.’

White Feather stood watching her, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

‘Weather Makers do not have specific powers’ White Feather explained. ‘Different Weather Makers have different ranges of ability, and can use various abilities and combine them. Air pressures, temperatures, humidity and so many different things can be done……the magic can be used in different ways. For fun, for murder….’ White Feather shrugged. ‘Many things.’

He glanced down at a table nearby.

‘This is a curious little thing’ White Feather smiled, picking up one of the small paper treasures that Amaia had created during her many days of boredom.

A little model of a horse made of colourful paper, with a little mane and tail that trailed down its body. Upon the table, were many other little paper creations, sheep and goats and little animals, alongside figures of men and women.

‘It’s very pretty isn’t it?’ White Feather said to Amaia. He gave her a devilish look. ‘Make it dance.’

‘What?’

‘Make them all dance.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Oh I think you do.’

Amaia pursed her lips, brows knitted together.

‘Go on’ White Feather urged her. ‘It’s been far too long since you’ve truly been yourself.’

‘But I’m afraid’ Amaia breathed. ‘I’m afraid it will get me into trouble again.’

‘With who?’ White Feather asked her. ‘There is no one here. What is to fear from within these walls?’

Amaia hesitated, reluctant to give in.

‘Trust me’ White Feather spoke slowly. ‘What exactly are you afraid of?’

‘The unknown’ Amaia replied.

‘If that is the case, then you will live your entire life in fear’ White Feather told her. He lifted his hand, the paper horse resting on his open palm. ‘Do not fear what you do not know. If you allow yourself to give into fear, it will consume you, control you.’

Amaia took a step back, thinking of what he said, thinking that perhaps he was right.

‘Go on’ White Feather pressed. ‘Do it.’

She relented, for the first time in years, and only for the second time in her life, she gave into the powers that dwelt within her. She released her magic. Tickling her fingers through the air, she used her powers to dance the paper horse White Feather held. Behind him also the other paper figures she had made began to lift in the air, spinning and moving back and forth their tiny little legs. White Feather laughed in joy at the sight as Amaia pushed her magic further. The wind in the room picked up, engulfing the both of them in a strong gale. The long curtains hanging either side of the window lifted and shook violently around, and the sheets from the bed flew about the room.

Amaia drew a deep breath, tensing further and squeezing her eyes tight shut, increasing her magic further. Snow began to flurry around the room, White Feather first realised what it was at its cold touch upon his cheek. He laughed again, throwing his hands up into the wind.

Amaia opened her eyes to the scene around her, increasing her magic yet again and bringing her powers to their climax, releasing all the powers that her been stored within her body all her life. She released them to their fullest. White Feather stumbled as the wind grew to an almost unbearable level and the snow swirled. He grabbed the side of the bed to stop himself being swept off his feet. It was a snow storm inside the room, but Amaia didn’t stop there. Suddenly the room turned damp, and the snow turned to sleet, then rain. The two of them where soaked within mere seconds. There was a sizzling sound, and then a large crack. The room lit up in a flash and White Feather fell to his knees. Amaia gasped, and she stopped her powers instantly. The room became eerily still.

‘Oh gods, are you alright?’ she cried.

White Feather ran his fingers through his hair, brushing back his fringe from his face. He looked up to her, and smiled.

‘I am splendid’ he grinned, and Amaia let out a sigh of relief.

‘I thought I had hurt you.’

‘It would take more than a little bit of lighting to hurt me, my kind are more resistant to the powers of Weather Makers than ordinary folk. We don’t easily get hurt by their magic, don’t you worry.’

‘I’m so glad, for a moment I thought….’

White Feather rose to his feet again, smirking at her, his soaked hair swept back.

‘Look at this place’ Amaia said glancing about her. ‘I’ve destroyed this room.’

All about the room was strewn clothes, sheets, books and all her little possessions. Torn and broken and completely soaked through. The entire floor was covered in shallow water.

Amaia hugged herself, drawing a shuddering breath; her long black hair clung to her wet skin and in her cold wet clothes, she began to shiver.

‘Oh poor dear’ White Feather immediately began to fuss, noticing her discomfort. ‘Come on; let’s find some dry clothes for you.’

He walked with her, opening the double doors to her bedroom and stepping out into the hall outside. Suddenly they both saw a figure standing there. It was one of the servants, the one called Sarah.

She stared at Amaia, who stood there completely soaking wet. Sarah’s eyes drifted past Amaia, completely unseeing White Feather, and into the messy room behind.

She stood there in shock, holding the tray of tea in her hands. Then after the longest time, without a word, she turned and marched away, taking the tray with her. No doubt running off to gossip of what she had seen to her many friends in the kitchen.

‘You tricked me’ Amaia told White Feather, hurt in her voice.

‘No’ White Feather sang. ‘This would have happened anyway. I only made it happen sooner. I have set into motion the inevitable.’

Amaia watched the servant hurry away, a strange feeling stirring inside her.

She took a deep breath, wondering what would happen next.

‘Don’t worry’ White Feather spoke with confidence. ‘No matter what happens, I will protect you.’

Amaia shared a look with him, White Feather stared boldly back at her. He wasn’t afraid, not in the slightest. And Amaia thought then.

What is it that you know?

‘I knew there was something wrong with her’ Sarah cried, bursting into the kitchen.

‘You didn’t give the tea to her’ one of her friends noticed, seeing the tray still in Sarah’s shaking hands. ‘Sarah?’ What’s wrong? You look live you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘It was worse than a ghost’ Sarah gasped.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ her friends replied, beginning to surround her.

Sarah placed the tray she carried carefully upon one of the counters, all eyes in the kitchen were now upon her, and everyone had paused, wondering what all the commotion was about.

‘I saw the strangest thing’ Sarah began. ‘You wouldn’t believe…’

More people within the large kitchen began to drift over to her, abandoning what they were doing to listen.’

‘What is it?’ her friend pressed. ‘Hurry up and tell us, don’t keep us waiting.’

‘Alright’ Sarah spoke slowly, gathering herself. ‘This is what I saw…’

The guard stood there, utterly bored. His eyes had glazed over long ago, and he was stuck in a trance of complete disinterest, practically bored to tears. He was snapped back to attention however when a figure entered the room, it was one of the servants. He frowned down at her as she approached him. She stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear.

He nodded in understanding as she stepped back from him.

‘I will let him know’ the guard said.

The servant bowed and moved away.

The guard left his post, leaving the building and heading to the garden outside. He found another guard, and whispered in his ear, then that guard found another guard, this one closer to the gate that was the entrance of the place, and whispered the message again.

The guard on hearing the message wheeled on the spot and marched swiftly away, back through the gardens, he headed to the stables nearby. Relaying the message again to one of the lightly armoured guards who stood outside the stables, this guard on hearing the news quickly grabbed a horse and rode out of the gates that were opened for him.

The mounted guard rode swiftly on his chestnut mare which was bred for its speed; he reached his destination within hours.

By then it was nightfall, and he left his horse in the courtyard without even bothering to unsaddle the beast.

He burst through the doors of the manor, marching past the soldiers and officials and heading to the office at the back of the entrance hall. He entered the room without knocking.

‘What is the meaning of this intrusion?’ the important figure sitting at the desk demanded with fury. ‘You had better have a good reason for this interruption or else I will…’

The lightly armoured soldier interrupted again, speaking over him.

‘Your highness,’ the soldier bowed, ignoring the other faces of the less important people in the room that stared at him in surprise. ‘It has happened…’

Tristan faltered at hearing the news, all his anger immediately dissipated.

‘I see’ he answered calmly, absorbing the information. ‘Then I suppose…in that case….its time I paid her a visit. Thank you for your troubles’ Tristan said, rising to his feet and straightening up. ‘I will make sure you are properly rewarded. Now return to whatever business you have.’

‘Thank you your highness’ the lightly armoured soldier bowed.

‘And get my horse ready’ Tristan called after the soldier as he made to leave the room.

‘Of course your highness’ the soldier replied doubling back, before swiftly making his exit.

‘Gentlemen’ Tristan said to the Dukes around him, ‘I have business of my own to attend to now, you must excuse me.’

A female figure stopped him as he crossed the entrance hall of his home, heading to the front door.

‘Where are you going?’

Tristan paused, glancing at his wife.

‘I must go out’ he told her. ‘Something important has come up.’

‘Something important?’

‘Yes’ Tristan replied evasively.

His wife sniffed in distain, head held high as she turned to face the windows.

‘You know I hate all these soldiers and fancy men coming into my home’ she said arrogantly. ‘I don’t know why you let this place become so public.’

‘Business’ Tristan replied with anguished patience. ’And anyway, it’s our home. In fact…if anything it’s more my home.’

‘It’s dark outside’ his wife said changing the subject. ‘Are you sure you want to go out now?’

‘Yes’ Tristan replied shortly.

‘In the dark?’ his wife persisted. ‘I’m sure it will rain soon. It would be such a terrible tragedy if your horse were to fall and break a leg. Such a thing would happen easily in the dark.’

Tristan glared at her. He knew full well that behind his back, his wife had men working for her. She could passively control him. Tristan had learnt this before. With minor threats, and unlikely accidents happening here and there when he went against her word.

‘Very well’ he relented, hating her even more. ‘I will leave tomorrow.’

‘When the sun is up’ his wife clarified. ‘And the morning is bright. I will see you off myself.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asked her. ‘Don’t you think it’s best to let sleeping beasts lie?’

‘Hmph’ she smirked at him humorously. ‘You’re a funny one.’ She turned from him, gliding up the stairs and beckoning her handmaiden to her as she did so. The poor girl darted immediately to her side at the slightest flick of her mistress’s hand. Like a well trained dog. The girl, so misfortunate to have fallen into such a position, was well aware of the punishment of failing to please her mistress, who never hit her. Instead she would be punished in more creative, psychological ways. Tristan often thought of helping the girl, but hadn’t worked out a way to do it without making it look suspicious and making himself look guilty. He was sure, that if he did so, the girl would suffer for it.

‘My loving wife’ Tristan grumbled miserably to himself.

‘Your highness’ called a voice from the door. One of his soldiers. ‘Your horse is ready.’

‘Return my horse to the stables’ Tristan called back to the man, seeing through the open door his white mare saddled and waiting for him.

‘Your highness?’

‘I will ride in the morning’ Tristan replied, walking away.

Dam you Tristan cursed his wife in his head. I would have been better off had I married a tavern wench, instead of a scheming, manipulative demon.

White Feather opened his eyes the moment the suns first light touched the sky, he waited for a few hours before deciding to wake Amaia. Drawing back the thick curtains and letting the now bright morning sun flood into the room. Amaia immediately frowned in displeasure, rolling over in bed to face the other way and hiding from the sun, holding several pillows over her head.

‘Now don’t be like that’ White Feather protested, gliding towards her. He climbed upon the bed as laboriously as possible and proceeded to sit on top of her.

‘Meeehh!’ Amaia cried.

‘What’s that?’ White Feather sang happily. ‘I can’t hear you!’

‘I can’t breathe’ Amaia gasped.

‘Oh come now’ White Feather giggled, rolling off to lie beside her. ‘I’m not that heavy.’

‘Why do you wake me like this?’ Amaia grumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

‘Because the day is alive!’ White Feather called jovially. ‘It happened many hours ago, but I thought that I should let you rest, you looked very tired; you were even twitching in your sleep. I wondered what you were dreaming.’ He gleamed at her. ‘You looked ever so cute making faces in your sleep.’

Amaia scowled at White Feather. ‘What happened many hours ago?’ she asked suspiciously.

White Feather beamed happily. ‘The birds sang and the trees danced in the breeze. I saw the most beautiful formation of clouds…the way the morning light worked its magic on the world…it looked like a picture of heaven itself’ he sighed.

‘I’m sorry I missed it’ Amaia said flatly.

‘No you’re not’ White Feather cried indignantly at her. ‘You don’t even care!’

Amaia swung her legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the mess of the sheets behind her. The servants would tidy it up, they always did.

Without a shred of modesty, Amaia lowered her nightshirt over her shoulders, letting the garment fall to the floor. She crossed the room completely naked to find which clothes she would wear today. She picked a beautiful dress of vibrant red and deep blue, it sat across her shoulders when she put it on, and fit her perfectly. Just like everything else she ever tried on.

‘I like that one’ White Feather said to her. ‘It’s a very pretty dress, in fact it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve seen you wear so far.’

‘You say that with every dress I put on’ Amaia commented back. ‘Even if it’s the same one.’

‘In that case’ White Feather gleamed. ‘It must not be the dress that’s getting more and more beautiful, it must be you.’

Amaia giggled at him. ‘You’re very sweet.’

He smiled silently back.

Amaia left her bedroom, which had since been tidied. There was no longer water inches deep, covering the floor, and all the curtains and bed sheets and clothes had since been replaced with new ones. But since that day, Amaia had not been able to escape the stares of the servants. Since that day, they acted differently around her, treated her differently, like she was a freak. Amaia noticed them looking at her, always when they thought she wouldn’t notice. White Feather said he had not noticed this when she brought it up with him, but she suspected that he was not being fully truthful.

Amaia wandered through the many halls, coming to sit at the breakfast table. She waited for her food to appear, as it did so every day, whatever time she decided to wake. As it did since she could remember, since the day she first arrived here.

Her breakfast came and she ate quickly, White Feather picking the bits of food he fancied off her plate as she did so. As soon as she pushed her plate away from her, indicating she had finished, a servant appeared. Amaia found this odd, usually they waited until she was gone, but today…

And then the strangest thing happened. She was just rising to her feet to leave the room, when the servant actually spoke to her.

Amaia faltered for a moment, still comprehending what had happened.

‘What?’ she blurted out.

The servant repeated herself.

‘There is someone here to see you.’

‘Me?’ Amaia repeated in shock. ‘Ok…’

The servant bowed her head submissively. ‘He is coming now.’

The double doors leading to a room Amaia had not been allowed to go to before, suddenly opened, and in walked a man. He was striding towards her confidently, his dress suggested he was wealthy, perhaps vastly so.

The man stopped before Amaia, his piercing stare boring into her. Amaia shrank under his gaze.

‘Leave us’ the man commanded, and the servant swiftly left. Amaia was now alone with this man. Beside her, White Feather stuck close by, grasping her shoulder briefly to remind her that he was there.

The man considered Amaia for a moment, looking her up and down. And then he let out a deep sigh.

‘I had no idea that you were going to be so beautiful’ he said.

‘I know you’ Amaia gasped suddenly. ‘You’re…’

The leader approached, staring intently down at her.

‘Gods you look just like your mother’ he breathed. ‘Amaia…’

‘You’re that man’ Amaia realised. ‘I saw you when…that time….’

The man smiled briefly, before becoming sombre.

‘That was a tragic day’ he said. ‘But I’m glad you remember me.’

‘No’ Amaia shook her head. ‘I don’t know who you are. I’ve never seen you before that day.’ She faltered then, studying his face closely.

‘You look like me’ she said.

The man nodded.

‘Now where is your companion?’ he asked. ‘The one you’ve been speaking to, the fairy.’

White Feather’s eyes widened at this, he glanced to Amaia who was staring at him now.

‘How do you know of him?’ Amaia asked.

The man blinked slowly. ‘My mother was a Weather Maker’ he explained. ‘I spoke to her fairy often. He was a very polite and well mannered, but he disappeared, after…’ he broke off. ‘Will you reveal yourself fairy’ he said. ‘So that I might see you and speak to you.’

White Feather looked to Amaia, who gave a nod. He then let his spell drop.

The man let a slow smile cross his face.

‘You’re a different kind of fairy to the one my mother had, he was older and…different.’ He paused. ‘What is your name?’

‘White Feather.’

The man smiled again.

‘My mother’s fairy was called Pie Frost.’

‘That’s a stupid name’ White Feather retorted.

‘I always thought so too’ the man said. ‘I was often told off by my mother for saying, in my younger days when I was a boy.’

‘How is it that you know so much?’ Amaia asked him. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Tristan’ he replied. ‘I am your father.’

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