nature's first green is gold,
her hardest hue to hold
her hardest hue to hold
Somnus returned to the Dawn Court without grand heralding.
Timing had more to do with it than anything else. It was just before dawn when he arrived, his hooves striking their familiar staccato against the cobblestone and the patchwork cloak he wore billowing out behind him with every step. To anyone watching him that early morning, one would simply think him to be a wayward monk on their way to an early morning prayer.
They wouldn’t be wrong.
It had been so, so long since he had walked these streets, and yet he knew them so intimately as though he had never left. Eyes closed, the former Dawn King did not need vision to navigate the familiar twists and turns needed to reach the citadel. The stone structure loomed like an unseen beacon in the distance, the epicenter of their beloved Court, the heart of Delumine… And it was there he went, gently pulling the hood of his cloak down so that it rested comfortably against his shoulders the closer that he got.
The guards stationed at the doors watched him approach. One shifted nervously, not recognizing the dunalino given his recent acceptance into the ranks, but their compatriot did. Even if his eyes were open Somnus would not be able to see the way that the soldier’s mouth parted in surprise, recognition shining in his eyes, nor the way that the guard dipped his head in respectful silence. They did not try to stop him as he stepped into the citadel, passing beneath the threshold of the large stone towers that had once served as his very home.
His children had run up and down these hallways. Regis, with his gangly thin frame but ecstatic smile. Anemone, with her boisterous energy and dazzling personality. Eulalie’s voice calling worriedly after them, apologizing to the staff that they inadvertently knocked into during their play... Even in the wake of despair, having lost them all, Somnus breathed in slowly and smiled.
’Even when you despair,’ Oriens had told him, benevolent and patient, ’Think of me, and know that I am here.’
The halls of the citadel were deathly silent that morning. Nary a soul was in sight, not even the staff that tended to the seat of power. Every step was made with unnatural grace, as the dunalino moved by memory alone. He was quiet throughout his journey, lost in memories, recalling so many years spent in this very place…
Eventually he came to a set of wooden double doors that were shut. It was only then that Somnus allowed his eyes to open, his unseeing, milky-green orbs staring at the elaborate carvings depicting the lore of Delumine as though he could read the depictions himself. He couldn’t, of course; he was blind, but while his vision had gone, his memory had not. Inhaling slowly, keeping his thoughts measured and emotions in order, the former Dawn King pushed his way into his old chambers.
The air was stagnant and stale, and it was easy to pick up the scent of dust. Clearly it had been some time since his old chambers had been cleaned… But they were empty and cold, the hearth long burnt out. His former chambers lacked any semblance of warmth, and while daunting, while heartbreaking, the homefires could burn once again. It was there, in his chambers, that Somnus remained throughout the rest of the morning; tending to his disorderly desk, putting everything back into order, taking the linen from his bed to be replaced, dusting away the soot and grime, removing the cold coals from the hearth…
As the rest of Delumine began to awaken, servants and monks and soldiers and citizens alike crawling from their beds to begin their day, word spread quickly that ‘a graying-gold man with a black horn and mottled wings’ had made himself at home in the former King Somnus’ chambers. He heard them, of course, skulking about to peek in on what it was that he was doing… But he paid them no mind. There was work to be done.
Somnus had returned home to Delumine, and he had no intentions on going anywhere else.
