Freya’s body burned with the stress of the day. Her bones creaked in places, and her joints squeaked with every step. Back in her usual adornnts, she ordered so food from a street vendor and sat on a chair under his tent. Curious glances were cast her way; she wasn’t soone you saw every day, wandering the market or ordering from the roadside vendors.
Ignoring the looks of curiosity, she silently took a plate of her al and paid an extra coin to get a bottle of cold tea. Setting it on an empty chair, Freya focused on nothing and let her hunger guide her next. Hounding the burning al, she washed it down with the cold, bitter tea. A surprisingly complentary combination, or perhaps she was just too hungry.
’I ate like a pig.’ On her way back ho, however, a mont of sha caught up with her. Freya’s body was still slumped, and her mind was aching for the comfort of her bed. But amidst it all, she rembered sothing important. ’Damn it, I forgot to ask them what they knew about Rudy trying to buy a slave.’
A sour taste ruined the aftertaste in her mouth. Grimacing at the thought, she dragged herself towards the inn–hoping that everything had gone alright even though she’d been away. Upon reaching her destination, she was pleasantly surprised–nothing was out of place, and the woman on whose hand she’d left the inn was working the register much the sa.
"Where have you been? It’s so late!" She complained.
Subsiding her question, Freya asked her own.
"Don’t ask, where’s Rudy?"
Though she shared the sa frustration as Freya from the morning, the woman shook her head and grunted an answer.
"He’s been looking for you all day. But right now, probably in your room or with his aunt upstairs."
"Thanks..." Patting the employee on her shoulder, Freya made her way to her room.
Her spell of weariness was far from over, but she had to confront her son about what she’d heard. Back at the shop, she obviously had to hold her tongue, but now, perhaps only now, she had to make him talk about what was going on. To make things easier, entering the room, she noticed Rudy sitting in a corner by the vanity. His eyes were digging into his own reflection; however, the mont light bled into the room through the open door, his attention shifted to his mother.
"What took you so long?" Getting out of the chair, he turned to face Freya. "I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I even went to the shop, but they said that you’d gone to the market, but even there I couldn’t find you."
"What’s so important that you were chasing my tail all day?" Walking inside the room, Freya shut the door behind her. "I thought you had gone to search for that dungeon that you and your friends were rabid after."
A lingering sting from the events of the morning was edging her tongue into a sharp blade. Her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed commandingly, all the while, Rudy couldn’t pick up a hint of what she felt in that mont.
"I-uhm, well," hanging his head, he smiled awkwardly. "I wanted to talk to you about... Roxanne."
"Hmm?" A subtle tilt of the head emphasized the curiosity now fashioned on her face. "What about her?"
Holding his tongue for a while longer, Rudy slowly made his way closer to his mother. Standing right in front of her, he gathered his courage and looked up.
"I-I want to confess to her."
Freya’s curiosity and her anger quickly lted to the reveal, but in the way Rudy had expected. A bored look had taken curiosity’s place, and if his mother’s eyerolls were anything to go by, then this whole conversation felt nothing more than a bother to her.
"Rudy..." Placing her hand on her son’s shoulders, she sighed. "Look, if you’re looking for so advice or anything of the sort, then I’m far from the ideal woman to offer you any. Confess if you wish, if you want to spend the rest of your life with her. But rember, if you have even the briefest mont of doubt, then it’s not worth the scars, trust , I have plenty myself already."
The joy in Rudy’s heart nearly faded at his mother’s words. He wanted her to be happy that he was about to confess, but instead, she seed depressed.
"But, I have to try, right?" He asked, lips quivering.
Squeezing his shoulders, Freya cast her gaze elsewhere. Blankly staring at a spot on the wall, she drew on her own experience and told him sothing she knew that he wouldn’t have the heart to acknowledge by himself.
"Roxanne doesn’t see you like that, Rudy." Returning her gaze to her son, she felt her heart drop. "Trust , I’m a woman, and I know the way a woman in love sees a man when she loves him. But Roxanne? She’s like a dove. White as a dove with no imperfections, she doesn’t even realize that you’ve had a crush on her since who knows how long at this point."
For a spell, Rudy’s eyes narrowed with doubt. But then, shrugging off his mother’s hands, he took a step back and stared at her.
"I’ll do this on my own." Hanging his head low again, he began walking towards the door. "I thought you would be happy or at least give advice on what to do. Not everyone’s relationships end the sa way, you know!"
In his anger, he had picked up on one of his mother’s habits–hitting a nerve right where it hurts. However, following him with her eyes, Freya remained silent until he stopped montarily by the door.
"I’m just telling you the truth, Rudy. We Hiltons haven’t got a ton of luck when it cos to relationships or family." Shooting her one last angry glance, the hero walked away without saying another word. "Tck... This won’t end well."
Perhaps it will, perhaps it won’t; only in the mont of the confession can the truth be known.
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