Exit to the Right ??

After the accident, Matis had seen his broken body for the first time in a hospital bed when Perdita and he had come to steal it. Up to that moment, his thoughts had centered on Justin. When the going went rough, when they had been bested and busted by the men who they had intended to surprise, he had run. He had left Justin behind, though he had seen him seized and disabled. It seemed, in that second, somehow the right thing to do. He had been the one who hadn't been meant to be there. He had not been invited and expected. He had to go.

Once his brain had kicked back in a wink later, he had not been able to think past the fact that he had to rescue Justin. He'd been seen before the time. He hadn't been good enough. It had been his mistake. Not even the accident and his new strange being at Perdita's side could waver his intention. Justin had been the most important thing that the world had to offer for him. There was no way that he could be still around and Justin was not, because he had failed him.

It had been Perdita who had applied her logical mind to the problem, and had given a thought to Matis in the equation. She had been right, of course. But once he had stood in the door to the room where he had been lying, his head heavily wrapped, the reality had hit him. He had a palm sized hole in his skull behind which his brain had been scrambled. He had seen the wound up close later, when Paulina had changed the dressing. He couldn't have survived it. So, what was he still doing, standing and walking around, even though it was a limited existence, tied to Perdita?

For Perdita and Flo, and even his mother, he was still him. By and by, he had found himself cutting out a new life and purpose in this new existence. It was around that time that he had discovered that he, the orphan, had a family – as deranged as it was. But there was Perdita, his sister, who he had come to love, and a whole bunch of experiences, he didn't want to miss. He arranged himself with a life after Justin. Justin, who had chosen a death over an eternity in which he could have lived, learnt and fought without him.

Shortly after Hel inducted them to the Great Hunt, the awareness had hit him -  like in the moment that he had stood in this door and had looked at a body that had been him, with a fatal wound – he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve the chance. He didn't deserve Justin. Not even the love that he had to offer, was enough. He was mad at Justin for demonstrating it to him by dying for him.

The longer the thoughts had hammered in his head, the more sad, suffering glances from Justin's lovely features had piled up at his feet, the more the hate and rage in him had spread. At times, he couldn't help but also hate Hel for making him and Justin part of the Hunt, and Flo for asking her to do it. He hated no one more than himself though. He'd not been good enough. He should be dead. Gone. Gone forever.

Seeing this man with an equal wound in his head had driven it home. This man was dead. So why not him? He had caught Justin's grey eyes full of sorrow. That had been when everything had crashed down over him while his stomach took the opposite way up. The bushes, offering privacy and shield, had been his last rescue. Now the retching had slowed. He was left drawing in breaths like someone drowning.

"Giving in to your weakness again?"

Matis heard the voice, recognized it as the voice of the strange man from the pond, and thought about bolting. He wasn't up for company, especially not that of a man who had mercilessly mocked him from the moment he had first appeared. He already dragged himself up to his feet with his back to Nigel and was getting ready to run. He changed his mind and spun around. This man, who was no one to him, had coming to him whatever happened. Matis felt like lashing out.

"I'm not weak," he raged, the ice that had his heart constantly in its grip, spreading through his veins. "I just have a shitload more of horror in my past given that I died. Died twice really," he spat out into Nigel's face. His arm shot out, pointing back at the mansion. "You should try looking at the bloodbath in the house after you had hours to look at your own smashed in head while coming to terms with what had happened and why."

"Have you?" Nigel smirked when he passed Matis. He started to slowly pace in front of him with his hands folded behind his back. It was a teacher's pose that Nigel relished, the preaching part, not the study. "Have you come to terms with it?"

For this question, Matis hadn't been prepared. Everyone had tiptoed around it. No one had ever asked. No one ever had wanted the answer to it, not even Matis himself. And then, here was this stranger. "Who are you?"

"Nigel. But you know that." Nigel pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket, pointed with it to his own mouth and chin, and offered it to Matis. "I help at the house."

"Why can you see me?" Matis asked, while cleaning his face. He wished he had something to clean his mouth and head as well. All he tasted was rotten, but still not as foul tasting as the thoughts, torturing him.

"Ah." It was amazing how loaded Nigel could make the one letter sound. It started with his usual mocking vibe, gave Matis a taste of his own rage and hate, before it filled with empathy and ended in pity. "It is really sad to see how little of our world Prince Florizel and his share with you, while he takes and does whatever he wants, no matter who is hurt. But what do they say? Knowledge is power? It's all nothing but a game to the other prince; a game in which no one but him may win."

"And you?" Matis scoffed. "You are nothing but generous in giving away what you know? You share power?"

"I'm just a low light, helping a much bigger cause. It means to prevent that Florizel – Flo - gets what he wants. You, with your story, must have sympathy for that. He wanted you in the Hunt as his pawn and he got you, with a collar and a leash neatly attached around your neck. Have they ever asked what it is that you want?" Matis didn't reply. He didn't feel like giving the man an inch, even if Nigel's sentiment resonated deep inside him, the place where he felt trapped.

Preaching as he was, Nigel hadn't expected a reaction of Matis. He continued, "One prince having the other cowering at his feet - that's not how it is meant to be. To even things out a little, I will do you a solid. I will let you in to a secret." He moved closer, intimately close. "This world is shared by vampires –"

"I know of Flo's band of brothers," Matis interrupted Nigel. Not ready for another bout of mocking, he pushed Nigel away.

Nigel stood his ground and straightened his jacket. "I don't speak of his cadre, this pitiful half a dozen he keeps bound to him like Hel rules over you," he puffed. Scorn and contempt oozed from every syllable. "The vampires I mean answer to no master but themselves, since no one made them what they are but they. They found their way to Wisdom and drank of her well. They drank of a well like your father once, and like your father they'd been gifted for it. It's a precious gift. To protect castle and well from preying hands, Wisdom gave magic to simple humans like me – witches."

This story was new to Matis. It begged the question why Hel, or Flo, hadn't told them about it. Flo had magic. He said that Perdita had it, too, in a way, or she couldn't have pulled him to her in death. But other than that, Flo had always let them believe that it was unique to him. He had used his magic to taunt Matis when he still had been tethered to his sister. Matis had concluded that Flo had done it to motivate Matis to set things straight on his own in his own time; giving him a chance to choose to move on. But what if Flo had just wrangled him toward a paddock called Great Hunt?

"Preying hands?" Matis inquired.

"I'm sure you can guess who," Nigel smiled a bitter smile. His hands and arms opened. "Who took your sister from you and you from your sister? Who collected you like a prize mare when given the opportunity?"

"And you help? Whom? What's in the house that Flo might want?" Matis' questions popped out of him without pause nor breath.

"A lot," Nigel responded. "If you were the man you are meant to be, you saw it yourself. But with the company you keep..." Nigel sighed and shook his head full of sorrow. "Vlad's son, the strongest of the gods, powerful heir, beloved by all, a true hero – that's what you could be. A hero." The last word echoed hollow from nothing. Nigel was gone. He had vanished while speaking, leaving Matis even more unbalanced and berserk than before.