Medea strode through the halls of the castle like some avenging war goddess. She was looking for something. Or rather someone. Her purpose for doing so was, of course, completely self serving- she refused to do anything that might be perceived as otherwise sheerly on principle. She wasn't looking for anyone in particular. Not searching for a familiar face, or waiting to hear a familiar voice, but instead reaching out with her magical abilities and praying that she would stumble upon someone with a decent level of skill when it came to magic. Not an equal, no; for no one could ever be equal to herself, Medea, daughter of Oskan witchfather and Thirrin Strong-In-The-Arm Lindenshield. No one.
As she continued to prowl through the halls, she found herself dwelling on a subject that had occupied her thoughts far more often than she'd like to admit recently- Loneliness, and what she could do to fix it. She supposed it was completely normal for a human female of her age to feel this overwhelming need for companionship that she was feeling now- but that didn't make it any less irritating or real. The feeling was there, and, as much as she hated to acknowledge it, she knew there was only one way to get rid of it. And so she was searching, searching for someone suitable to keep her company other than her magic and the stones of her icy tower.
She knew that doing so would undoubtedly be difficult, so she had decided to get somewhat of a head start. After all, anyone who was similar to her in the slightest would certainly prefer the icy calm of the night over the buzzing chaos of the day.
Suddenly, Medea's eyes flew wide open in shock and outrage. Someone was in her tower! Her tower! The tower she kept all of her belongings in, the tower she'd spent almost her entire life in! And now they were in her bed! What the hell were they doing in her bed? She stormed back up the spiral staircase, her mind a dark, swirling cloud of murderous rage. To enter her bedroom without permission was one thing- but to have the nerve to climb into her bed? Enough was enough. No one, No one, touched her bed. No one.
She burst through the heavy wooden door, already in the proper mindset to obliterate someone where they stood and intending to do exactly that, when all of a sudden, she stopped. A girl was standing on the far side of her room, her back pressed up against the tower wall and a petrified expression on her face. She looked like a cornered rabbit, which, to some extent, she was.
"Med- Medea- I mean- Oh my god- I- I'm so sorry!" She squeaked, still sporting a deathly pale color and wide eyes.
Medea stood there in silence, scrutinizing the girl with her cold, calculating jet black eyes. It was obvious that the girl was very sorry for what she had done, but was sorry enough? Part of her wanted to pick the intruder up and toss her out of the window. The other half was far too curious to do so.
"You're a servant." She said at last. "What are you doing in my room?"
The girl blinked. "Well ma'am-"
"Call me Medea." She demanded. She had absolutely no patience whatsoever when it came to military titles and names; honorifics were no different. The girl swallowed, so hard that it was actually audible.
"Well Ma'am- I mean, um, Medea, your mother wanted me to tell you that um, your father- No, no, I mean your mother- she-" The servant girl sighed, giving up. She took a deep breath, ready to continue. "Medea, your mother is looking for you."
Medea made an disdainful noise in the back of her throat. "Well, tell my mother that I couldn't care less what she has to say to me. It's the middle of the night and I've things to do." She said dismissively, walking over to the desk by her window and cracking open one of her many books. She ignored the girl, well under the impression that she would go away, but she did not. She stood there, no longer pressed up against the wall, but standing behind Medea and alternating her gaze between the back of Medea's head and the starry night sky. And the sorceress did not appreciate it. At all. Medea stood up, slamming the book shut and whipping around. "And what are you waiting for?" She demanded irritably. The servant flinched.
"Sorry ma'am- Uh, Medea. It's just, I mean, do you really want me to say that to your mother?" The girl inquired a little disbelievingly. Medea frowned. This was strange. Normally her anger was enough to scare even the sturdiest housecarl right out of his boots, but here she was, practically arguing with a mere servant. Suddenly the temptation to throw her 'guest' out of the window of her tower was born again. But as tempting as the idea was, she beat it down, willing herself not to.
"Of course." She said, being careful to keep her voice perfectly level. "If I didn't wish for you to say it then why would I waste my breath telling you that you should?"
While the servant girl pondered what she had said, Medea truly looked at her for the first time. She had blond hair, an unusual trait for a citizen of the Icemark, and sparkling aqua eyes. Medea was one of the only people in the kingdom who bothered to make the distinction between blue and aqua- most thought that they were the same, but Medea disagreed. Blue was normal. Blue was boring. If she had a piece of gold for every blue eyed man or woman she'd observed in her sixteen years, she'd be rich enough to build her own castle far away from this wretched place, and bribe Bellorum into stopping his aimless warmongering. But aqua, aqua was different. It was brighter, lively. It had a certain innocence about it, but just the right amount of maturity to make it strangely alluring. Yes, Medea liked the color aqua. A lot.
"I suppose not." The girl concluded at last. "I guess I'll go tell her then." She went to walk away, but Medea stepped in front of her.
"No, wait." She urged. "Tell me, what's your name?"
The girl looked somewhat confused, perhaps even worried to some degree. "Well, my name's Alyssa." She stammered. Medea stepped aside, nodding.
"Alright, you can go."
"Am... Am I in trouble or something? Are you going to report me?" She asked shakily. Medea frowned, thinking it over.
"You're just a servant." She stated at last. "Even if I wanted to, who on earth would I report you to?"
The girl named Alyssa blinked, looking flustered. "I'm a housecarl, not a servant!" She corrected proudly, although her face was flushed with embarrassment at the comparison. "Do I look like a servant to you?"
Medea sighed. Damn housecarls and their pride, constantly demanding their stupid explanations...
"Well, if you must know, you look awfully young to be a soldier, never mind a housecarl. And frankly, you're not wearing any armor so you can't blame me for failing to make the jump." Medea said flatly. "Although I'm sorry if I damaged your pride. But seeing as you entered my room without permission, you should just be happy that your pride is the only thing that's been damaged."
The girl seemed satisfied with her explanation, and gave her a small smile as she nodded and walked out. Medea stood at the door for a moment, dumbfounded. Had that girl smiled at her? No one, not even her mother, smiled at her. Not ever. Sighing, she pulled her dress up over her head. Wearing only her undergarments, she looked at the nightshirt resting on her bedside table but decided against it. She adjusted the temperature of the room to her liking, then walked over to her bed and lay down with an exultant sigh. Why couldn't it be like this all the time? So peaceful and calm... Her eyes slid shut as she retreated to the back of her mind. She had a lot to think about. But then again, what else was new?