A House Filled With Night

Fiske knocked on the door to a small house.

“Auntie? It’s me, I came to visit.”

Runa stared at Fiske in shock. Auntie? The Sons of Midnight had an aunt?

The door opened slowly, revealing a woman with gray-streaked black hair and a distant look in her eyes. In one hand she held a cane, in the other, she clutched a knitted shawl around her small shoulders. She looked both old and young; her clothing looked grandmotherly, while her face appeared relatively smooth and wrinkle-free. Runa also noted, with some confusion, that the woman did not lean against her cane, but only held it.

“Fiske? Is it you?” She reached up and stroked Fiske’s face. She smiled. “You’ve come.”

“Yes, Auntie.” He took the woman’s hands into his. “And I brought a friend. May we come in?”

“Of course, of course.”

She nodded but did not look at Runa. She was blind.

The woman opened the door completely and welcomed them into her home. Fiske took off his cloak and hung it upon a hook by the door. He certainly seemed to feel at home.

“We brought groceries for you, Auntie. This time I had Runa help me choose some things that might be more useful to you. I don’t know a lot about grocery shopping, much less what a woman needs.”

“Ah, you good child. Why do you do these things for me? Your kindness makes a bitter old maid like me grow suspicious.”

“I just enjoy seeing your pretty smile, Auntie.”

Her cane shot out to poke him in the toe, with surprisingly good aim. “And your rascally words don’t help, either! But come. Put those things down and introduce me to your friend here. The two of us are being horribly rude.”

“Oh, this is Runa! We met a few months ago,” he said, pushing her forward. “Runa, this is Meriel Pembroke. You can just call her Auntie.”

Perhaps she was not his aunt after all? There was no way the Sons of Midnight had an aunt living blind and helpless in the city while only Fiske visited her.

“Hello, Auntie,” Runa replied, taking the woman’s hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled. “What a sweet voice! You didn’t tell me you brought a woman, you scoundrel. I hope you aren’t toying with another poor girl’s heart. I’m sure the ladies of Eidar have had quite enough of you.” She patted Runa’s hand. “He’s a horrible flirt, dear. You might as well find out now.”

Fiske didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, no. She’s my brother’s fiancée, which makes her off-limits, so to speak. But she’s a good sister-in-law, so she offered to help me out today.”

Runa gaped but couldn’t say anything because the woman was already congratulating her profusely. Fiske was no help. He just continued unpacking groceries in the background, silently cackling to himself.

“When will you have the wedding?”

“Um…I…” She went back and forth between lying or trying to explain everything, before finally settling on, “I haven’t quite decided yet.”

“Well, there’s no rush, whatever they tell you. Come, Fiske. Leave those things there. Let’s sit, why don’t we?”

They all settled down at the small wooden table in her kitchen, with barely enough room to pull out the chairs and sit. Meriel let out a weary sigh, stroking the handle of her cane almost anxiously.

“Oh, dear,” she shook her head. “Fiske, I’m afraid you’ve come on a very bad day for me.”

“Have I?”

“Please, don’t worry yourselves. I’m grateful for the company, so that I won’t be alone all day. But I hope you will both forgive me if I seem a bit sorrowful. You see, today is the anniversary of my sister’s death.”

“Oh, no! I didn’t know, Auntie. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Runa watched Fiske’s expression carefully. He had said it as if he was surprised, but she saw in his eyes that he wasn’t at all. He pressed his lips together tightly, holding back something more.

“And what a wonderful sister she was, too. Loving, generous—oh, and absolutely beautiful. You’ll think I’m exaggerating, but I’m positive that she was the most beautiful woman in this entire city. I’ve forgotten the appearance of many things since I lost my sight, but I will never forget my sister’s beautiful smile. It’s my most treasured memory.” She pointed to a cabinet nearby. “Let’s see, open up the…the second drawer, to the top, there.”

Fiske did as he was told.

“Do you see the portrait there? Take it out.”

He did so, and returned to his seat. In his hands he cradled a small, wooden frame, surrounding a faded portrait barely as tall as Fiske’s thumb.

“That’s my sister,” Meriel said, smiling triumphantly. “See. I told you I wasn’t exaggerating.”

Runa stretched to get a look at the portrait. The woman depicted there looked similar to her sister, Meriel, but familiar in another way as well. There was a sparkle in her eyes that the artist couldn’t help but highlight, and a brilliance in her smile that shone through the paint. She was as beautiful as described.

A drop of water fell upon the portrait’s glass cover, then two more. Runa looked up. They had fallen from Fiske’s eyes. At first his tears were silent, and he breathed heavily, trying to keep them in. Gradually, they grew, until he could contain them no longer. He held the portrait to his chest and wept without restraint. It sounded as if his heart was being torn out.

At first, Meriel just frowned, puzzled by his reaction. Then her eyebrows creased in concern, and finally, she reached forward to search for Fiske’s face. Her two hands found him, gently wiping away the hot tears there.

“You dear child,” she murmured. Tears had come to her eyes as well. “You have such a gentle heart, to care for a blind woman and her dead sister this much.”

Fiske gasped out another sob and wrapped his arms around her. His voice was muffled against her hair. “I—I’m—so—I’m so sorry—Auntie. I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry that this—that this happened to you.”

He let go and grasped both of her hands in his.

“Auntie…please—please, let me keep this.”

“Keep what, dear?”

“The portrait of your sister.”

“The portrait? Why would you want such a thing?”

“Please, Auntie. Please let me have it.”

“Fiske, are you not a stranger to my family? Is this why you’ve taken care of me?”

Fiske hesitated before answering, “My mother was good friends with your sister long ago. She was very dear to me as a child. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But I’d like to keep on taking care of you, to honor your sister’s memory. Please let me have this portrait. I will cherish it.”

The woman closed his hands over the frame. “If you want it that badly, I’ll give it to you with all my heart. You can enjoy it much more than a blind woman ever will.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

They didn’t stay long after this. Fiske helped Meriel finish unpacking the groceries, fixed a doorknob, and said a final farewell.

As soon as they walked out the front door, Runa turned to him expectantly, wondering if he would explain anything. She didn’t dare ask. He was clutching onto the portrait tightly, chin tucked into his chest. She reached out to touch his hand, and he looked up at her. His eyes welled up with tears once more.

Then Fiske was hugging her tightly, his sniffles loud in her ear, his tears wet on her shoulder. She just patted him on the back and mumbled words which she hoped sounded comforting. She knew that now, more than ever, she was becoming irreversibly entwined in the lives of the Sons of Midnight.

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~ A/N ~

Thoughts?

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