Chapter 5: Chapter 4 – Mother

Raviel's family lived in a huge villa, away from the constant hustle and bustle of the city center. The land around the house seemed to belong to them and had been laid out in a vast garden, particularly pleasant at this time of the year. Many fruit trees grew there, welcoming on their branches birds whose melodious song spread through the air. The picture turned out to be bucolic, a thousand leagues from what Aster had imagined. It had been an eternity since he had felt this tranquility, which reminded him of the village where he had grown up. A wave of nostalgia suddenly gripped his heart.

“The property is vast, I will show you around if you want.”

Aster frowned and nodded vaguely. He had almost forgotten, for a moment, that this house was his new prison. More welcoming and less dangerous than the previous one, but a prison all the same. And behind his apparent gentleness, Raviel could choose to do whatever he wanted with him.

Raviel continued on his way on the small path leading to the entrance of the villa. He opened the door and invited Mel and Aster to enter. They found themselves in a vestibule, which opened almost immediately into a vast atrium half protected by a roof supported by tall Doric columns. The wide opening thus created by it let all the sun's rays into the house. These reflected off the surface of the water in the large pool at the center of the space. All around, many rooms were bathed in daylight. On the other side of the basin, Aster saw an open room that seemed to lead to a second atrium.

“Here, you will find rooms like the dining room, the living room, as well as the kitchen. The bedrooms are in the second part of the house,” Raviel told him.

Several slaves emerged from the numerous rooms surrounding the atrium when Raviel's voice echoed through the space.

"Master! You are back!” A woman exclaimed with a broad smile.

She must have been in her forties, and a warm glow shone in her dark eyes. She had pulled her brown hair back into a thick bun.

“Nerilla.” Raviel greeted her.

He pointed in Aster's direction.

“This is Aster.”

Nerilla had no time to respond when the front door swung open, revealing a slave with a face distorted with worry.

“Master!”

“What's going on?” Raviel asked, frowning.

“She's having one of her episodes.”

Raviel stiffened.

“I’ll come with you.”

He turned to Aster.

“I'm sorry, I have a matter to attend to. Mel will show you around and make sure to give you what you might need.”

“But…”

Raviel interrupted Mel with a look.

“Don't worry. I'll be back shortly.”

Aster didn't understand why such fear invaded Mel's face, but she nodded reluctantly. Raviel gave him a slightly strained smile and turned around. The door closed behind him, and an apprehensive silence fell over the atrium. Aster crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is it so terrible to show me this house?” He called out to Mel.

“It has nothing to do with you,” she sighed. “Follow me. I'm going to start by treating your leg so that the wound doesn't get infected.”

She skirted the pool and headed for the second atrium. Just before entering, she pointed to a room in the corner.

“It's an altar. You can come and pray if you feel the need.”

“I don't share their beliefs,” Aster replied.

Mel gave him a warm smile.

“Me neither, but it is still a soothing place.”

She led him into the second atrium. This one was even bigger than the first one. The columns did not originate at the edge of the basin but surrounded a small garden that came to life around the clear water.

"At the back, you'll find the baths," Mel explained to him. “On the side, two rooms are reserved for us for the night. One for women and one for men. But you probably won't sleep there. Wait for me.”

Before Aster had time to ask her for more details, she headed to one of the two rooms, where several bunks were spread out on the floor. A few moments later, she returned with a box that she carefully held in her hands. She knelt down at the edge of the basin, opened the box, and took out a piece of cloth which she soaked in water. Aster joined her and sat next to her.

"Can you show me your wound?"

He complied without a word. Mel gently passed the damp cloth over his leg to remove the grime that had accumulated there.

"Raviel worried a lot during your fight," she announced suddenly.

“I guess the idea of ​​losing your property before you've even had it isn't a pleasant one.”

Mel didn't seem to enjoy the sarcasm, as she gave him a stern look.

“Don't judge him too quickly.”

Aster didn't answer, and an awkward silence appeared, only broken by the noise of slaves busying themselves elsewhere in the house. Mel took out a bandage.

“I don't understand,” Aster finally said. “You are a slave... So why do you seem so devoted to him?”

A soft smile tugged Mel's lips as she carefully placed the bandage around his leg.

“You know… All the slaves in this house agree that Raviel is a good person, and I think they all have a lot of affection for him.”

“It's your… our master,” Aster replied.

“Not exactly. For you and me, he is our master. But all the others belong to his father. However, everyone respects Raviel.”

Aster turned his head towards the basin, and his gaze was lost on the water's shimmering surface. The song of the birds reached them through the open roof.

“I don't understand,” he whispered again. “How can we accept this life? All forms of freedom are taken away from us. We no longer have the right to do as we please or even to have a will of our own…”

Mel finished tying the bandage and stepped back slightly.

“Are you hurt elsewhere?”

“No, I’m fine,” Aster answered, shaking his head.

Mel plunged her hands into the basin to clean them.

“Many would have no place to go,” she continued. “Some were born slaves, others have been slaves for so long that they have forgotten all about their homeland.”

She paused slightly, lost in thought.

“I've lived here since I was four. I have no memory of my native land. For me, everything is connected to this place.”

She lifted her head and gave him a broad smile.

“And it's not that bad, you know. We have a place to sleep; we are fed… Many slaves cannot claim to be so lucky.”

Aster raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Are you really always well treated?"

Mel seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering.

“With Raviel yes. Give him the benefit of the doubt; you will quickly find that it is worth it.”

Aster frowns slightly. He couldn't agree with Mel's explanations. A slave remained a slave. Admittedly, they seemed well treated in this house, and their situation could have turned out to be much more dramatic. But Aster considered that this was not a valid reason to resign himself.

"Have you ever thought of running away?"

Mel frowned.

"I don't advise you to try. The Massallian laws are very clear about runaway slaves.”

“I thought Raviel wouldn't hurt us,” Aster provoked her.

Mel pursed her lips in displeasure, aware of what Aster was trying to do.

"You won't make me say what you expect," she warned him slowly. “Indeed, Raviel will never hurt us. However, he himself remains subject to the laws and must bow to the rules of the master of the house. If you were caught, which is most likely, he might be able to spare you from his father's wrath, but it would cost him dearly.”

Aster looked at her defiantly.

“So what? What is he risking? To be reprimanded? He is a patrician. He was born in an ideal setting and will spend the rest of his life in it.”

Mel got up abruptly, a furious gleam deep in her brown irises.

You are reading story The King’s Gift at novel35.com

“I grew up alongside Raviel. He is far from having had the life that you imagine for him.”

She walked away. Aster followed her with his gaze, remaining alone at the edge of the pool, in this villa he knew nothing about.

***

Raviel walked through the garden of his family's vast estate. His stomach twisted with anguish, he barely paid attention to the green surroundings, contenting himself with absentmindedly greeting the two slaves he passed. Quickly, his steps guided him to a building, very similar to the villa, but much smaller.

When he reached the door, he paused. Rogis, the slave who had come to notify him, stared at him with concern. He wasn't very old, only a few years older than him, with dark hair cut short and had a slight dimple, particularly noticeable at this moment. His brown eyes shone with concern.

"Would you like me to come with you, master?"

Raviel shook his head slowly, his throat tight with anxiety. A sudden crash echoed inside the house, like the sound of crockery breaking. Raviel tensed even more.

“Intervene only if the situation becomes critical. I will take responsibility for anything that might happen.” The young man said.

Without waiting for an answer, he pushed open the door and closed it behind him without a sound. He found himself in a small room, in the center of which a delicately crafted pool took place. Within it, the water rippled gently.

"Magnus?" It's you?

Raviel took a deep breath before answering.

"It's me, Raviel.”

A woman came out of one of the rooms on the left side of the atrium. Rather tall, slender in body, her long ebony black hair rippling over her shoulders and cascading down her back unrestrainedly. Her face was marked by her pointed chin, and small wrinkles adorned the corners of her dark eyes. Time had taken none of her beauty. Unlike Raviel, who hadn't had time to remove his toga, she wore a simple tunic that fell to her ankles and revealed her bare feet. But something, in the delicacy of their features perhaps, induced a certain resemblance between them.

“Hello, mother.”

“Raviel... You are here, my darling…”

He did not move, remaining close to the door, on the lookout for the slightest suspicious gesture. Cecilia stared at him insistently and approached slowly. When she stopped in front of him and held out a hand to his cheek, Raviel refrained from jerking back. The long white fingers caressed his skin with unusual tenderness, and he couldn't help but shudder.

"You haven't been here in a long time…”

Cecilia's hand swerved to the side, and she grabbed one of the silver lock of hair. It slipped slowly between her fingers.

"You've always been so ugly," she whispered.

Raviel closed his eyes briefly but didn't move, ignoring the pain that gripped his heart.

"Rogis informed me that you were feeling ill," he replied, nonetheless.

"You don't know how much I despise you…”

She roughly tugged on Raviel's hair. He bit his lip lightly, but no complaint escaped him. He didn't dare move. Cecilia was strangely calm now, but he knew that anything could trigger one of her sudden outbursts.

“I do not want to see you. Where is Magnus?”

"You know he's not home yet," Raviel murmured.

A strange glint crossed Cecilia's dark eyes, and her grip on her son's hair tightened abruptly.

“You lie!” She hissed.

“Mother…”

She pushed him away violently, and Raviel winced as his back hit the wall. His mother might have a rather thin build, but her arms concealed an unsuspected strength.

“You lie!” She repeated furiously.

Raviel knew at that moment that he had failed to appease Cecilia. A slap slashed the air and landed violently on his cheek.

“Where is he?” She screamed.

“Stop it,” Raviel whispered. “He will be here shortly.”

Cecilia slapped him a second time. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away.

“You lie! What did you do?” She spat.

Cecilia hit Raviel a third time, then a fourth and a fifth. Her fingernails ruthlessly scratched the diaphanous skin of her son. He raised his arms to shield his face from the blows his mother was raining down on him. The fabric of his toga was pulled over his shoulder and slipped to the floor. He closed his eyes, taking in the onslaught of violence without trying to defend himself, ignoring the pain that was ravaging him from within. He wasn't able to push Cecilia away.

“Freak! You are just a freak! You are not my son!”

The door banged open, and Rogis appeared.

“Mistress!”

He abruptly stepped between Raviel and Cecilia and grabbed her arms to stop the blows.

"Don't touch me, slave!"

Rogis immediately released her.

“Your husband will be back soon.”

His words seemed to soothe Cecilia somewhat, as she took a few steps back, looking suddenly calmer.

'It's true; he hasn't come back yet.”

She suddenly turned away, paying no attention to Raviel, as if he no longer existed.

“Can you clean the living room?” She asked Rogis. “There are broken dishes on the floor.”

She disappeared into one of the rooms that overlooked the atrium. Raviel inhaled sharply. He hadn't realized it, but he had held his breath so long his lungs were burning. Without thinking, he opened the door and walked out. The air was still too hot to cool him down.

He leaned back against the wall, his legs shaking. The stone turned out to be colder, but he still suffered from the sweltering heat. With difficulty, he took off his half-undone toga. It fell to the ground in a rustle, leaving him only dressed in a thin white tunic that caressed his thighs. He ran a hand over his arm. No doubt bruises would appear quickly. He hoped his face didn't show traces of his confrontation with his mother.

He sighed painfully. Cecilia had been consumed by madness for years. Officially, she no longer went out because of her fragile health. Unofficially, Magnus was keeping her locked up, as Cecilia was too unpredictable. Sometimes strangely calm, sometimes animated by an incomprehensible fury. The more the years passed, the more her condition seemed to deteriorate. It had been so long that Raviel had only vague memories of a time when her mother had been kind to him. Now he was just the son she had grown to hate. He closed his eyes. He couldn't ignore the pain that each confrontation with Cecilia caused. He had lost his mother's love.

This fact tormented him and hurt him deeply. He had lost his mother's love and knew he would never get it back. In Cecilia's eyes, he would never be anything other than the freak she had given birth to… The rare moments when she seemed to remember having loved her son were only fleeting moments, incapable of supplanting her madness.

A shiver ran up his spine, and he suddenly lifted his head. A strange feeling came over him. He felt… oppressed. His body seemed to freeze, and an icy chill washed over him, despite the sweltering summer heat. His fingers creased the fabric of his tunic. He was certain he had felt a similar impression during his last vision.

“Master, is everything all right?”

Raviel turned to Rogis, trying to compose a neutral face.

“Yes ... I just needed a moment.”

The strange feeling was gone.

“Your mother has calmed down.”

“That’s great,” Raviel whispered.

He stood up, leaning against the wall. He suddenly felt exhausted.

"I have to go back to the villa. Can you stay here long enough to make sure everything is okay?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Raviel took a few steps, but Rogis called him back before he went any farther:

“Master!”

Raviel half turned, slightly surprised.

“You are not a freak.”

Raviel had a sorrowful smile.

“Thank you, Rogis. But don't worry, I'm fine.”

He walked away, and a warm breeze gently rippled his tunic around his slender body. Rogis watched him depart, looking sorry. He hoped Raviel would one day allow someone access to his heart. If he continued trying too hard to bury his suffering, he would end up getting lost in it.

You can find story with these keywords: The King’s Gift, Read The King’s Gift, The King’s Gift novel, The King’s Gift book, The King’s Gift story, The King’s Gift full, The King’s Gift Latest Chapter