"You are aware that this could probably be the last time you ever see her? Are you sure this is what you want ?"
The voice rung out in the dark room, like a knife cutting through layers of silk. The owner of said voice stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression gloomy. He did not try to quiet it, the palace halls had long grown empty at this hour of the night.
"She does not belong here. Look at her, she is far too fragile for this place. I doubt she could make it past the first week... The coils of the snakes of the palace grow ever so tighter every day. They would not let her grow in peace. You need to send her away, Marlon, please."
The voice that answered him was softer, bearing a kind of weariness only a life at the palace could grant. In her arms an infant, barely six months old. Her tiny hands grasped at the colored linens wrapped around her. The air had grown colder, indicator of the colder months arriving rapidly. Soon snow would come, and it would be too late to send the child away, the white cover of the land impairing travels.
Anyone who'd ever tried to flee from pursuants in the snow knew it was hopeless. Water holds memories, and snow holds traces of passage. The cold of the Northern kingdom clung to your bones and stiffened your joints. Traveling with an infant in this kind of weather would be nothing short of suicide, Marlon was aware. Yet he'd seen how the woman had craddled the child like the only precious thing in this wretched frozen world. It didn't feel right to send it away.
"You've managed to keep her tucked away for six months. Why do you think you could not keep her until her first year is completed ? At that point you could officially introduce her to the king and then she'd be protected-" He attempted to suggest, before the woman cut him off.
"Marlon, do not play the fool it does not suit you. I have feigned sickness for the past year, but it cannot last any longer. The king's patience grows thinner every passing day and he will soon pay me a visit himself if I keep pretending that his physicians cannot cure my ailment. If he does her existence will be revealed, and there exists no world in which the first concubine would let her live."
Silence fell upon the room, Marlon's eyes rested on the infant. The Northern kingdom's weather was harsh, due to this, it was rare for infants to live past their first year of life. This led to a rule being created, royal heirs were not to be introduced officially until they had passed their first birthday. Only then would they be truly recognized and assigned personel. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't the only threat to royal heirs under the age of one. No concubines would benefit from a royal heir being born, it would strip their own child's chances of inheriting the crown. "Incidents" and "unfortunate" series of events were common currencies in the halls of the Northern palace. And too many untitled graves sat in the royal cemetery.
Marlon was no fool, he knew that the child would undoubtebly die. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to abandon the woman standing across from him.
"If I leave with that child, who will look after you ? At worst your retainers are a nest of snakes, at best they're a bunch of incompetent morons."
The woman turned towards the window, letting herself consider the man's words for just a moment. In instances like those, she seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Marlon's jaw tightened.
"The king values me, surely he will not let me pass. If he intended to he would not be sending me the best tonics of the kingdom to aid my "recovery".
It was a weak guarantee, they both knew it. The king cared for her, yes. But he could not protect her from everything. That had been made clear by the various attempts on her life once she gained his favors. But Marlon also knew that if he didn't help her save her child, she would lose all that she had left. And watching her wither away might be a worst fate than death in his eyes.
"I'm no pastor of gentleness. Do you truly believe entrusting me with an infant is wise ?" He said gruffly. Giving one last attempt to convince her to go back on her decision.
"You are rough on the edges, and you do not mince your words. But your heart is just and kind. I know you will care for her."
Another silence fell upon the room, this time it wasn't the silence of inner conflict, but rather the silence of two people that knew they were probably saying their last goodbyes.
"Have you named her? If she is to leave with me, she will not pass her introduction day with you. What name would you bestow upon her?"
Royal heirs were always named at their first birthdays. The older kings believed it was useless to bother naming something which would surely die soon. Only when they had survived their first year were they bestowed a name. Which explained the number of unnamed tombstones in the royal cemetery.
"Niah. I'll name her Niah. Take good care of her, Marlon."
"Niah, star in the old script. I suppose it is fitting."
His hands wrapped around the wriggling ball of linens. The infant felt light in his calloused hands. The woman gave a smile, before sitting down near the window.
"Oh and Marlon ? Thank you, for all those years of service. I know they weren't easy on you."
"If I had to choose, I would do it again in a heartbeat."
No other word was spoken. They didn't need to. Both had known each other long enough to know what words they carried in their hearts and would remain unspoken.
Through the shadows of the cold night, from a back entrance of the palace that had fallen into ruins, a silouhette made its way out towards the trees. His arms held firmly a package of wriggling colored linens. He made his ways to the trees, his feet aiming for warmer lands.