I wait for him. Constantly waiting.
Waking thoughts, sleeping thoughts, are always filled with the agonising need for him.
Dreams take my breath away, day thoughts kill me. For who can control the mind during it's dreaming, but loss of control over day thoughts was unacceptable.
Where I live, control is
She had many titles assigned to her over her few centuries. Abomination. Whelp. Shade. Misfit. Dark Child. She was all of them. Then she was grudgingly termed otherwise; Sentinel, Guardian, Warrior and Keeper. She knew they still called her darker endearments behind her back. Blaise was no fool. She may have been abandoned by her father to her Dark Fey Queen of a mother but that didn't mean she didn't try to keep herself in line for him. In a vain hope of gaining his attention.
But she would not be their fool.
Blaise was the darkest of the Dark Fey. And she was tired of pandering to others.
As a little girl, Blaise Redfern had wanted to grow up and be amongst the High Courts fashionable society. She could remember being walked through a huge crowd at court, huddled into her mother's skirt at first, but then instantly being drawn out at the beautiful colours and intricate patterns woven through dazzling court gowns and suits. At least they managed to help her face her trip to High Fey Court. Dazzling. Deadly. You could be gone with your next breath.
That was the day her Dark Fey mother had been summoned to the Fey High Court to present her child and very rare Dark Misfit child to be cooed over and quietly examined. Her mother back then had not been the Queen of Dark Fey as she was now, but she had been apart of the Dark Courts and therefore, very much a power the High Court wanted to watch. They had hoped she had been wholly made of Darkness but her father's bright spark equalled her mothers dark much to the disappointment of her mother. And as such a small baby, her powers had stubbornly refused to show, saving her in that moment. For she, even as young as she was, was dangerous. Misfits were not always allowed to live.
Misfits powers ranged from the strangest you could imagine, the deadliest, weak and useless powers, to Misfits who grow into countless, ever growing abilities. Blaises mother had had such high hopes for this child she had born, for she had tried over countless centuries to amass strong, deadly Misfits, with not always the desired outcomes. Those children disappeared quite quickly, either killed or hidden from her mother's notice by a softer soul.
Her Father, whom all she knew of was called Alistair, was not in the picture. He could be dead for all Blaise knew of him and certainly no one was going to tell her anything. Her dark Fey of a mother was trying to experiment mixing dark and light heritage within the powerful blood magicks that helped conceive her. For a time, her father's bright spark gifted to her in her heritage deterred the darker. Until it changed one night.
Shaking herself from that dreadful thought, Blaise instead focused on her task.
Night was coming on quickly, a very special night. Tonight was the night of final trials for the Warrior Tournament. A tournament to pit yourself against other Fey and creatures who are highly skilled in combat to join the ranks of Elite Fey Warriors. A high honour to be bestowed such a title. If she were to get there in time. Currently, the High Council were detaining her.
Blaise, with her mixed heritage, had loyalties to the Dark and Light Fey, though the Light wished they had no use of her. The majority had no trust in her, however much she followed their little orders.
And right now, they didn't want her to participate in the Tournament.
They were really pissing her off.
As she grew older and more into her gifts, Blaise came to realise that she would never fit in with High Fey Court. High Fey court consisted mostly of the most influential, powerful, wealthy and gifted individuals, exclusively white Fey. Of course, the Dark Court always welcomed her. For they would adore the gifts of a Misfit Child.
Blaise was, however, very useful to the High Fey Court, so she was never publicly shunned. Blaise waltzed into the waiting room with little time to spare.
"I see you have made it." A shrewd man, one of the Court Councillors, drawled in such a tone that if Blaise didn't already know he was out for her blood she would have been on her guard. Instead she remained motionless, her features set in a calm mask that revealed none of her inner frustrations. Bloodlust would soon ride her into a Berserkers rage if she did not get a decent opponent soon. The intense way the Councillor was studying her made her think he was having the same thoughts and it confirmed her suspicion that she was being sent out onto ridiculous missions to test her patience.
Hoping she would snap.
"I am ready." Blaise spoke evenly.
"You realise this is a hand-to-hand combat trial. No weapons."
Blaise stilled, raking a quick look over the Councillors face and noted the quick tick of a muscle just under his eye.
"I was sure the first round was with a weapon of choice. No Magick."
"You are mistaken, Misfit." Distaste showed on the Councillors face as he named her, then he gestured at her weapon belt. "Remove your weapons."
Slowly, taking her time, Blaise unbuckled the belt about her hips that contained many kinds of weapons by itself, but proceeded to remove at least another eight hidden weapons. The slight mocking grin on the Councillors face had disappeared as the last weapon, a wicked looking dagger from the edge of a boot, had glinted dangerously in the bright lights of the room and flashed across his face.
The Councillor tried to stifle a gasp and failed, unable to tame the natural fear he had toward her…kind. Anger quickly surfaced, turning his thin face more ugly than normal.
"You should not be allowed to enter this Tournament. It's not decent or right to allow one so Dark to enter." Councillors voice grated out.
Tired, and verging toward a melt down in control, Blaise merely lifted an eyebrow and restrained herself from ripping body parts off. Slowly. "It's a fair tournament. Other Dark Fey are competing."
"Indeed. But you, oh, you are worse than the Dark Guard." The Councillor said defiantly, stepping toward her and his Magicks rising in temper.
Blaise stayed in place refusing to be intimidated but to remind him of just how Dark she was, she let some of it rise to the surface, echo in her eyes. She saw the Councillor's face go pale in horror at whatever he saw in them, just before her own Magical energies reached out, and with the special quirk that was all hers, cut him from his Magick. Temporarily, of course.
As the Councillor dropped to the ground sobbing, Blaise stepped over him and walked toward the growing noise of the Tournaments stadium.
"You'd do well to remember how much worse I really am, Councillor."