A House Filled With Night

“Torin…”

Runa folded the papers slowly, unsure whether to drop them or hide them or shove them into his hands.

“How did you find this place?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. He came toward her. Unlike his usual graceful movements, these steps were stiff and halting. As he drew near, she noticed the way his jaw was trembling just slightly.

“Sylvain sealed all these rooms off years ago, so how…”

His eyes fell upon the frayed journal entries she held in her hands.

“What’s that? In your hands?”

She pulled away and hid them behind her back. After observing his state, she decided it might not be the best time for him to delve into the dark past revealed in those pages.

“It’s nothing. I’ll show you later. You—”

“Runa, tell me.” His voice grew deep and stern. “What are they?”

“I…I promise I’ll show you later.”

“I have to know.”

“You will, just later—in the morning, when it’s brighter and we’ve gotten some sleep and—”

“They’re my mother’s, aren’t they?”

Her face betrayed everything. She couldn’t help it.

His eyes had begun to brim with tears. “Oh, God.”

“Torin—”

“Oh, dear God…”

He snatched the papers from her and turned away, pacing back and forth as his eyes tore from line to line with growing despair. He had finished the first entry in seconds, then the next, and the next. His tears fell more steadily as he read on. The hand he had raised to cover his face did little to conceal it—pale, wet, contorted in sorrow. Runa kept trying to reach out to him, coax him to sit down, slow down, calm down. He would only wave her away, continuing his frenzied march around the room. In the desperation of the moment, he choked on a sob and started to gasp for breath. He stumbled. The papers scattered. On his knees now, his shoulders shook with every hacking breath that came out.

Runa flinched. She felt almost afraid, but came forward nonetheless, crouching down next to him and giving his shoulders a few cautious pats.

“I can’t…I can’t read anymore,” he said, slamming the pages to the ground with his palm. “If she had never met him…if she had never had me…no, God. I caused her so, so much pain.”

“Torin—”

He fell forward on both elbows, clutching his head, shaking in anger. “I should have never been born,” he hissed.

Runa slid closer and clutched him by the shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. “Torin, you haven’t even read all of it yet. You have to read all of it, or you’ll miss the most important part.”

Shaky, watery eyes met hers. She could already see the ruby-red capillaries pulsing around the edges of his irises, feel the shadow trying to creep in. She willed the darkness to stay back, just for a while more.

Wiping away her own tears and swallowing the thick, sticky lump in her throat, Runa tugged the crinkled journal entries from between Torin’s fingers.

“Listen to this, Torin. Listen carefully, please?” Her voice was starting to crack already. Somehow, she was going to have to find the strength to keep reading. “‘I have fallen in love….I did not think it was possible to love something you cannot hold, or even see, and yet I have never been more in love than I am now.’—with you, Torin. She’s talking about you. Do you know what she called you? ‘Beautiful child.’ You. Then she says, ’My greatest wish is to hold him in my arms, to kiss his eyes, his nose, every little finger, every little toe.’ It was worth it for her, Torin. She was happy in her last moments, because of you. She was at peace, because she had you.”

Torin tried to cover his face again. Runa grabbed his hands and gripped them as if her life depended on it.

“She hated your father. Not you. Torin, she never blamed you, never ever. You were her only comfort. You were the reason she didn’t give up.”

His eyelids fell gently at the corners, so sad, so hopeful, so close to something sweeter than misery. Just a little more, and perhaps he’d actually believe her. Runa turned back to the letter with greater strength.

“‘I want my child to be happy.’”

His tears flowed again, but now soft, gentle, like a sigh of relief.

“‘I want him to see the stars from the hills. I want him to taste the sweet apples at the city festival. I want him to play in woods while it’s still dewy in the morning. I want him to laugh every day. I want him to have a hundred friends. I want him to know true love. I want everything for him.’”

He pulled her to him, chin nuzzled into her neck, fingers entwined amid the edges of her hair. He was holding on so tightly, she couldn’t help but let out a little gasp.

“Is it true, Runa?”

She nodded vigorously, even though he couldn’t see her, even though she could barely move. “Yes,” she finally managed. “It is. I can read it for you again, if you like.”

“You should,” he said. He let out something almost like a laugh.

“I’ll read it for you again—” she started, pulling away. He pulled her back, holding on still more tightly.

“Stay.”

“But I can’t read—”

“Stay.”

“…please?”

“Pretty please.”

“Alright. I’ll stay. For as long as you want.”

She wrapped her arms around him, moving her hand up and down the expanse of his back, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Minutes passed, then more, until Runa wondered if he had fallen asleep. She began to pull away again—

“Stay,” he murmured into her shoulder.

“Torin, it’s almost morning by now. Everyone will be waking up soon.”

“No…I mean…stay. With me.” He snuggled into her side, continuing sleepily, “At the House. Or when we’re outside. Or when we’re in town. What I mean is…I don’t want to be far away from you anymore.”

She felt his breath against her skin, evening out as he finally dropped off to sleep.

It was quiet. Still. The first rays of sunlight were trickling through the dusty old window like golden whispers. They fell upon Torin’s head, making each strand sparkle. Runa found herself playing with the bits sticking up at the back of his head, her mind in a daze. His breathing was so soft, so slow, coming in and out as gentle as a morning breeze.

“So this is where you were.”

At the sound of Sylvain’s voice, Runa shot up so fast that Torin started to topple over. His head almost hit the floor, but she thrust out her arm just in time to stop its fall.

“You surprised me!” she hissed.

He smirked. “I can see that.”

Amazingly, Torin stirred but did not wake. After Sylvain managed to pry his arms away from Runa, he sat down on the floor with them and carefully leaned his brother’s head against one of his own sturdy shoulders.

“How is he still asleep?” Runa wondered.

“It’s always been a special skill of his. Or perhaps a consequence of Casimir’s frequent meddling into his sleep habits.”

Sylvain’s eyes wandered around the room, thousands of emotions dancing across them in mere seconds.

“I thought I would never come back here.”

She watched as the eldest of the Sons of Midnight let his expression fall into something sad and almost vulnerable. He shook his head and sighed.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been here. Since I’ve been in any of these rooms. Or even near these rooms, really.”

“Why?

His eyes locked onto her. “I should be asking you that. I sealed off this wing of the House many, many years ago. It holds too many painful memories for us. But the House led you here. You and Torin. Why? As soon as I woke up I knew where you had gone—” He stopped suddenly and blinked. “What are those papers beside you?”

“They’re…journal entries. From your mother—oh, or…I guess…Torin’s mother.”

She averted her eyes, the discomfort having become palpable in the room.

“So, you…read them?”

Runa nodded, slowly.

“And you know…everything, then?”

“Everything…that might be a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You know enough by now though, I suspect.” He nodded, sighed. “I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. But like this.” He shook his head.

Runa wondered if he was angry, but he looked more gloomy than anything else.

“What did she say? In her journal?”

“You could read them—” she began, picking up the pages.

But Sylvain shook his head and held up a hand.

“I don’t think I have the strength to read them all on my own just yet. I was only…curious.”

“Well, she talked a lot about the House, your father, Torin, of course. She said she talked to you, too. She said you cheered her up.”

Sylvain rubbed his temples with his unoccupied arm. “I barely remember her. I was so young. I might have forgotten her completely if it hadn’t been such a horrific memory. Even after she died, I had dreams of her for years. Sometimes I would find traces of her throughout the House. Her, and all the others. My brothers rarely notice. It’s better for them that way.”

“Would you…would you tell me what happened to her? She said she was going to run away.”

He was having a hard time looking up now. “That’s what I most remember of her. And what I most wish I could forget.”

“You don’t have to—”

“He found out her plans so quickly. She never had a chance. He dragged her back here and beat her within an inch of her life. I don’t know how she survived. I don’t know how she carried through and gave birth to Torin. I will never forget the sound of her scream. I still hear it in the darkest part of the night. I kept thinking, any moment now, it will have to end. She’ll die any moment now. But she didn’t. She was determined to have Torin. He was barely in her arms before she stopped breathing.”

“You know, that’s what she wanted most. To hold him. She said so, in her journal.”

“At least she got that wish.”

He looked down at Torin, eyes softening. “I can’t even remember her face, but I suppose she must have had a face like Torin’s, because he looks nothing like our father.”

Sylvain brushed the hair away from Torin’s eyes. His nose wiggled in his sleep at the sensation, and he leaned closer to his brother. For a moment, Runa could almost picture them so many years ago: Sylvain, the scared little fairy boy, cradling his new baby brother in his arms, the one he had been so excited to meet. He had not realized the cost of his birth. She wondered how many times the eldest Son of Midnight had stood by helplessly, an onlooker of his father’s cruelty. How many times had he tried to hide his younger brothers from that darkness?

“Perhaps that’s why Torin seems broken, even more so than the rest of us. All the pain his mother went through was burned into the deepest parts of his heart. But in one way or another, it spread to all of us. After she tried to escape, my father became stricter, so no one would dare defy him again. I hardly realized when Niko was born, his mother was hidden so carefully. And so, from then on, it was only us brothers.”

He stopped talking, and for a while, he didn’t say anything else.

“You…never met your mother?” She asked finally.

“No.” He laughed a cold, brittle laugh. “Actually, I don’t even know her name.” He hesitated again before forcing out the next words. “Runa, he didn’t simply get rid of those women. He murdered them. Each and every one. None of us have ever seen our own mothers.”

Runa didn’t know what to say. Then she crawled over to Sylvain and threw her arms around his neck in her best effort to embrace him without waking Torin.

“I’m so sorry, Sylvain.”

He let out a chuckle, but she could hear a telltale sniff at the end of it. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I have everything to be sorry about. So just be quiet and let me hug you.”

He reached up with his other arm and gave her a pat on the back.

“Thank you, Runa. Thank you…for everything.”

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~ A/N ~

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