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They are both chained in a way,Sylas thought as he first laid eyes to a creature so shrouded in myth and shadows.He remembers the old myth‘s his mother had told him of the veiled one, a dark sorceress that cloaked in the world in shadow and despair.
Yet, as the sound of the old leather sandals and old chains came close, the presence of Morgana did not bring either of those things.And why should she even?The sorceress had been and still was a great ally in the mage‘s struggle against the crown of demacia.She had aided them in their taking of a few first forts in the northern lands, allowing them to now plan their next push southward.
„Good Evening, Sylas“,she spoke,without raising her gaze to look at him as her eyes found the map rolled out of the grand table in the middle of room.
Small chess figures taken from a once-completed set of chess were scattered over the map, signifying forts and garrisons, cities and trade routes.
Sylas looked up, gave a grim nod as she gathered the skirt of the fur,lined gown and took a seat.
He remembered their first encounter as he evoked her name in fury.
„How can gods rule“,he remembered speaking,“ if they allow such injustice“
And so Morgana had emerged from the shadows,“this is no true justice.True Justice has compassion,it forgives and understands“.
He remembers thinking her to be an eccentric witch, with a great train of feathers and a raven collar around her neck.It had only been later that he saw both to be wings, chained to her with iron chains as thick as his arms.
Chains are scars of the past.Scars he knew all too well, so he had not asked any questions.
„Morgana...what brings you here?, he asked, looking her over.It was evening, almost night.The past days she had spent walking the abandoned gardens behind the fort, clipping the rose bushes.After all, this was what she had been doing every time he saw her since they had taken the fort.
“I was wondering whether you’d like to join me for dinner.You haven’t been eating well the past days”,Morgana replied and Sylas furrowed his brow.She had been the last person he’d expect to watch his eating habits.Did she even require sustenance herself?He could not tell.
At his expression, she added,“I can’t have you be weak and famished once the king sends his troops once more, Sylas”, pointing to the two tower figures on the map with her hand.This time, however, her words were in a more firm tone.
Sylas still hesitated, brooding over the map for just a few moments longer. „I don‘t see why not.“, he answered finally, pushing himself away from the table. Only to realize he did not know where they were headed,“Lead the way“, he then added, gesturing to the door. Morgana rose to her feet and passed beneath the doorframe into the hallway. For some time, they walked in silence, „I asked some of the mages from Demacia about what they commonly ate in their past, I hope my cooking lets you feel a bit more...at ease“, Morgana explained as she lead Sylas up a staircase, her fingertips trailing over the handrail.
„You cooked yourself?“,Sylas gave back, raising a brow.It made sense, now that he thought about it-somewhat at least.He perhaps hadn‘t expected her to be much of a Chef since she wielded dark magic and commanded mysterious powers.“That is very...kind of you“
She gave a small laugh at his suprised tone of voice, no, a giggle maybe. Small and light as a bell but sincere.“If you live as long as me, you too would learn to...relish the little things that make us human. Mortal pleasures such as a warm, homecooked meal is such a thing“, she explained and swung a door open.
Sylas recognized it as the room she had claimed for herself as soon as their forces had taken the fortress.It might have been the chamber of the Lord of Steward of the castle- before they, along with most their court, had fled.The smell of food hit his nose first, rich meat, roasted potatoes and herbs he only knew the smell of, filled the air with a pleasant fullness.In The fireplace, a low fire was burning,warming the room and by the window, a small table had been set up, a chair of both sides.“I will let you be the judge of my skill, be my guest“,she added and closed the door after Sylas entered and the last bits of his chains had dragged themselves beyond the doorframe.Wordlessly, her gestured to the chair until Sylas sat down only after which she took a seat as well.
Infront of him was a plate of proper, good food. He had been eating all but to survive, from whatever the mage rebellion could find; before that he had been in prison. Sylas felt the gentle claws of dread tighten in his chest as he pushed those memories deep down. He would not think about those days and years and decades of darkness. Every moment he suffered was a victory for Demacia. Instead, he went to focus on the food prepared for hm.
A pile of potatoes roasted to a golden brown with herbs and spices, a rich, dark sauce and a expertly prepared meat.Only when he heard a trickling right infront of him, he looked up like he had been caught red-handed, only to be met by a pair of smiling, purple eyes as Morgana poured him some wine.“Enjoy it, wouldn’t want it to get cold, I hope you enjoy it“.
She gave a wink full of promises as she raised her own glass and took a sip, waiting for him to take a bite as if that would be her meal instead of the steaming food in front of her.
Sylas happily obliged, taking knife and fork into his hands, cut and scooped a forkful up and took a bite.
It was a delight indeed.Warm and Hearty, the sauce was luscious, the potatoes crisp and the meat tender.
A content sign left his lips,“It‘s...very good,I‘ll give you that“.The words almost got stuck in his throat. His mother‘s cooking was a faded memory, blurry and hazed like a long forgotten dream.This was his first meal he had eaten with pleasure rather than with necessity.
Merely the low cracking of the fireplace filled the air for quite some time, untill Sylas glanced up.
Morgana‘s dusky eyes met his with a smile, although she seemed startled by his attention,the food on her plate mostly untouched.“I‘m glad you‘re enjoying it“,she gave as a delayed reply and reached across the table to give a gentle pat to the back of his Hand,“it‘s been too long since I had cooked for someone who...appreciated it“. There was a sense of a distant, heavy memory in her words, but Sylas chose to not pry further. For both their sake.
Setting down his fork, he placed his hand atop Morgana‘s,“Everyone has their gifts, and they...deserve recognition“
For a moment it seemed both were unsure if this was still about the dinner.
But she merely have a touched smile.“I hear nothing but truth in these words, Sylas.You might be young, but you have a wise soul“.For a moment, their eyes met and for a moment longer they stayed like that untill a bit of color rushed to Sylas‘s cheeks and Morgana gave a soft chuckle,„The wine is good, you don‘t seem to be much of a drinker, but this one should be pleasant for your tastes“
In this Moment, he was more than eager to take his thoughts off the enchantress with the warm, dusky eyes that held his hand- even if his mind was already fuzzy.
Sylas of Dregbourne tried not to cringe at the bitter burning sensation the wine left in his throat, yet something in Morgana‘s face told him that his attempt had been fruitless.“It‘s nice“, he choked out in a last, futile effort.
It was a glimmer of lighthearted banter in this moment. Something they both did not see enough these days.The laughter faded slowly.
And he still held her hand in his.
Neither of them had pulled away by now.
Planned ending for this work: he's an anarchist freedom fighter,she is an immortal witch-what else is there to say ;))