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The sun was as hot as he’d ever felt it, blazing down in such a way that it seemed to cook him alive, through his brown and white speckled coat, straight to the bone. It brought him back in his mind, to the distant and hazy memories of his foalhood that took place here. To a time when all he’d known was the proximity of the sun and the sand of the desert, and the deep, rough yet kind voice of the blacksmith who had provided him shelter. He could still smell the leather, could see the sparks from the forge, the might swing of his hammer brought down onto a white-hot strip of metal. The weight of the weapons across his scrawny back, far too heavy for his delicate frame to bear.A year ago, Ipomoea would never have believed he was destined to return here willingly.
A shadow shaded his eyes momentarily as Odet passed by overhead in a wide, lazy arc. His presence was a comfort, Ipomoea’s constant companion here among the empty sands that stretched out behind him. He wasn’t alone. Not this time. Not like when he’d been abandoned to die amidst those unforgiving sands.
Of course, Somnus was with him as well, his brother by choice. He, too, was a comfort, a side to press into in case he was in need of a stronger shoulder, a steady hand to guide him. His presence and companionship made the walk through the desert far more enjoyable.
The Davke attack was evident in the remains of the Day Court capitol, piles of rubble and ruin lurking around every corner. the fires may have long been extinguished, but the rose-colored boy suspected it would take far longer for the residents to clean up the ashes and scorch marks upon the remaining walls.
But a group of children continued to play here in the courtyard square anyway, a riotous game of tag prompting fits of laughter and high-pitched squeals. It brought a smile to his lips, a flicker of hope fluttering to life within his chest.
Naturally, the squire who met him was far less enthusiastic. His eyes caught site of Ipomoea's own, steely and cold despite the heat of the desert. “State your name and purpose, boy.”
The derision in his voice took Ipomoea by surprise. He knew he was young—and he was no good at hiding it—but no one in Delumine had sneered at him because of it. What was youth if not an opportunity to learn, to experience? Was the Day Court really so different from their western neighbors? Mentally he added it to the list of reasons he did not belong here, perhaps would never belong here.
He drew himself up, lifting his head considerably higher before answering the runner. “Regent Ipomoea and Sovereign Somnus of the Dawn Court. Here to speak with Sovereign Seraphina, and to bring gifts to the Day Court.” The look he received was nothing short of doubtful, but he supposed he deserved it here. From his delicate ankle wings to the crown of flowers on his brow, he did not fit in. He did not look like someone worthy of their respect, far was he from warrior-esque. But the squire turned anyway, gesturing for them to follow nonetheless into the cool interior of the palace. Ipomoea cast a glance back at Somnus before taking the first step forward.
Their hoofbeats echoed on the sandstone floor as they walked, Ipomoea doing his best to land ultra-gently, suddenly self-conscious as he was of how much noise they were making. His wings folded themselves abruptly against his lower legs, as if they, too, were trying to disappear from sight.
After what felt like an eternity they came to a stop, and Ipomoea found himself waiting before a grand set of double doors, blocking his sight from what lay behind them.
And there he waited alongside his King, for the desert Queen herself to let him in. His heartbeat fluttered in his chest, the feathers of his small, fragile wings ruffling.
art by rhiann
