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councillororalie · 3 years

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@cadence-talle here ya go!! it's 1536 words!! please don't rb this version!!

It had been a long and busy day, and Oralie was practically dead on her feet as she returned to her home. It was nothing short of a palace, fit for the finest royalty, and normally this fact embarrassed her, but tonight, her mind was swimming. The complexities of her job had never accounted for situations such as this before. Oralie knew full well what could happen to her should anyone find out. And yet, she didn’t mind. As much as she would hate to lose her position on the Council, she somehow felt that this was her calling. Yes, the Black Swan was shady, but it wasn’t due to shady activity, just that they preferred lurking in the shadows. That seemed respectable enough; sometimes, she too wished she could melt into the shadows and not have the eyes and scrutiny of every elf watching her every move.

She was so exhausted and preoccupied that she hadn’t even noticed the imposing figure sitting in her living room. He stuck out like a sore thumb, his grey robes a stark contrast to the sea of pink Oralie used in her decorum. She gasped as she realised who it was.

“Bronte! To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said, trying to act as calmly as possible. Chances were, if Councillor Bronte was in her living room unannounced after-hours, he probably knew, but she could still hope.

“Oh, I think you know why I’m here,” he said, his tone calm and calculated, his gaze averted. Oralie had always been intimidated by the Ancient, but the fear that had instilled itself in her brain from the moment she saw him had made him exponentially more intimidating.

Hoping she could feign ignorance, Oralie asked, “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me, so we might be finished as quickly as possible?”

Bronte looked up and stared at Oralie as though trying to see into her mind. “For the Council’s living lie detector, you are a terrible liar. You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. The feeble excuses as to where you are, who you’re meeting with. Please,” he nearly scoffed. “I’m not that easily fooled.”

“Bronte, I don’t...what are you trying to say?” Oralie could feel her heart thumping throughout her body. She tried to focus on anything but her increasing heart rate as Bronte stood up and took a step towards her.

“Councillor Oralie, you know damn well what I’m referring to. You think I don’t know?”

She could hear the anger in his tone and hoped he couldn’t hear the fear in hers. “Don’t speak in riddles. Just tell me.”

“STOP!” Bronte roared, his anger apparent on his face and his voice. “You know damn well what I mean! You’re not the ignorant, innocent flower everyone paints you to be! I know what you’re doing, so tell me now, or you risk a Tribunal and Exile!” His pale face had gone red as he screamed, and his nostrils flared as he tried not to start panting. Oralie had seen his wrath before, but it had never been directed at her, and she hoped it never was again. Even though they were both Councillors, she felt as though he held an indeterminable amount of authority over her, and so she stood, rooted to the floor, terrified of the power she knew he held.

Oralie spoke softly. “I’ve been working on a project outside of my regular duties.” She offered nothing more, instead staring Bronte in the eyes, as though she was in a position to challenge him.

He took another step forward, coming closer to Oralie. “Councillor Oralie, I will bring this to the attention of the rest of the Council and you will risk your position in the nobility if you don’t tell me.”

“Bronte, I-”

“You what?” he spat. “Are working with terrorist organisations behind everyone's backs? Because that’s what it looks like!”

“Yes, I am!” Oralie cried, shocking both of them with her confession. “I am, I’m working with a terrorist organisation! Except they’re not, they just want to do what’s best for our world, what they see the Council has neglected! They think that the Council is unjust, prejudiced and blinded to the needs of the common person! And frankly, I don’t disagree. While their methods may not always be orthodox, their vision—or at least what they’ve told me—is quite reasonable.”

She had become faintly aware of the tears welling in her eyes, and she tried not to blink. “When one of their members approached me, I couldn’t say no. They assured me, they had precautions and failsafes should everything go south. At first, I was going to decline their offer, but they explained their vision and I couldn’t say no.”

The tears were now falling freely down her cheeks. She could feel Bronte watching her as she closed her eyes to stop herself from breaking down more.

“They didn’t want much. Just DNA. And I gave it to them.” It took all of Oralie’s strength not to sink to her knees, but instead to stay standing, as Bronte’s equal. She could not show any more weakness. Even as she cried, she felt ashamed at every tear that escaped her eyes and how weak they made her feel.

“You’re right that I’m terrible at lying. I can hardly lie to myself. I think it’s no secret that I wanted children more than anything, but I was a fool. Kenric persuaded me that this was what was best for me, for both of us. And even though I knew I was kidding myself, I agreed. I don’t have many regrets, but that’s the biggest one I have.

“I leapt at the opportunity. And now, I’m going to have a child.” She paused, letting the gravity of her words settle before continuing. “Biologically, they’ll be mine, but I’m not going to know them. They’re going to grow up among humans, and hopefully they’ll come back someday, and I can meet them.”

Oralie looked back at Bronte. His face held a thousand emotions, and yet none at all. She took a small step forward, and reached out to ever so lightly touch his hand. The wave of undecipherable emotions she felt was nothing short of staggering as she stumbled back. Bronte reached out and grabbed her hand to keep her from falling, pulling her back to her feet.

As much as she wanted to keep standing, the weight of her confession, the day’s exhaustion, and the barrage of mixed emotions from Bronte was too much, and she stumbled over to the chair Bronte had been occupying when she’d come in.

She was vaguely aware of him sitting down in a chair opposite hers, but all she could focus on was her breathing. In, out. In, out. In. Out. Her head was spinning as she glanced up to see Bronte’s brow furrowed in what appeared to be confusion and concern, mixed together in a tangled web of emotion.

A silent minute passed before Bronte said softly, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His tone was gentle like the flowers Oralie found herself being compared to. It was a rarer side of the stone-cold Ancient, but it was a welcome change from the roaring lion he’d been before.

“I’ve been a Councillor since before you were born, and I’ve been in relationships during my tenure.” His words, though soft, pierced the air like a knife. “Relationships that most would scorn me for now. We may seem like a lot of pretentious, rule-abiding pricks, but we’re not.”

Oralie let his words fill her mind. She rolled them around, u nsure of what to say next. She took another deep breath before asking, “What would you have done if I’d told you?”

“Kept your secret. Been your safety net. I don’t seem like the most trustworthy of Councillors, but I don’t want to see you fall from this high pedestal you’ve been forced upon.” He gently reached over and placed a hand on her knee. “You’re not as isolated as you feel, you know.”

“Really?” she breathed. “Really and truly?”

“Yes, really and truly. Your secret is safe with me. I gain nothing by turning you in, and I have my fair share of secrets. Why should I play the hypocrite? And why not play the defender, the protector? But alas, many will never see beyond the cold demeanor. Not that I’m complaining; it saves me many unwanted interactions in public. People are too scared of me, and I like it that way.” He gently lifted her chin up so they could lock eyes. “Your secrets are safe with me. And should you ever require my assistance, you know where to find me.”

With those words, he got up and exited swiftly and quietly. Oralie had not anticipated that outcome, but she hadn’t anticipated the encounter either. It was wholly unexpected, but somehow quite relieving, like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Even though she was more exhausted than before, she couldn't help but feel more alive. She knew that the secret would eventually come out, and the lies unfold, but for now she knew it was safe with Bronte.

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