Imperfection - Chapter Twelve (Patreon)

Olwen

Something unexpected.

To me, something unexpected was celebrating a birthday, or as of late, speaking out against the king. It never occurred to me to visit the lower half of Etherium. It’s an unspoken rule not to go there if you are not part of that class. It is where mostly generational outsiders roam. It is their own society within ours. We know it exists, but we never bother with it. Like an anthill outside of a house. It’s not worth the time. There’s a reason it’s called the lower half. It lies beneath Of course, some families pride themselves on their charity work with the lower half of the Etherium, but even still they never set foot in it. They have servants to do it for them.

But here I am, one of the highest officers in the Etherium government, putting on a disguise to visit the lower half of Etherium. All because my guard somehow talked me into it, and all he had to do was smile. Tiberius’s home is near the Knight’s Class Academy. Unlike most guards produced from the academy, Tiberius doesn’t work in shifts. As my bodyguard, his schedule revolves around mine, including having his own quarters within my apartments. He should have gotten rid of his home a long time ago seeing as he’s only ever allowed one day off.

But as I’ve learned, Tiberius is not like most people. In his own way, he is unique as he is so eager to show me today.

I pause in front of the door to his home, looking around before knocking. The streets are scarcely populated, and those who are in attendance watch me in curiosity. Most people of the king’s class don’t venture out this far. It was a big deal to the academy when I showed up with Tiberius.

After a moment, the door opens to reveal a shirtless Tiberius. His muscular form glistens slightly, accompanied by a simple towel around his waist. His dark hair is slicked to his forehead, water running down his neck. He must have been in the shower. He eyes me curiously, a small grin forming on his lips after a moment and he steps back, holding the door wider.

“I gave you a specific time for a reason,” I say stepping past him. He chuckles, closing the door.

“Today is about free will, Olwen. I’m not going to follow your plan to the T.”

My irritation flares at his arrogance. I’m not used to being spoken to or second-guessed like this. But Tiberius is truly embracing this experiment I agreed to be part of.

“Don’t forget that I am still your superior,” I grumble as I step into the living room. Tiberius’s only response is another laugh as he moves past me to the open door that I assume is his bedroom. Instead of sitting, I silently move about the living room, taking in individual items that give me insight into his personality. His home is like most citizens of his class. It is much smaller than anyone in the king’s class or even the rook’s class. But like most buildings in Etherium, it emphasizes natural light with large windows that overlook the area.

Tiberius’s curtains are drawn, so I pull them back shining natural light over the living room. The view here is nothing like the view where I live. I can only see some of the landscape incorporated in Etherium, and the train that leads to the outer edges of Etherium in the distance.

I am looking at the inside of Etherium rather than over it.

I move away from the window to continue to look around. The kitchen is adjacent to the living room, but no food has been cooked or eaten. There are no bowls or plates on the counter, only a coffee pot. He has a few items that look worn, and judging from the material came from the outside. Tiberius does have pictures placed along the entry table. I don’t know the people in them. They look like his classmates from the academy, each of them smiling in the pictures. Their smiles are wide and genuine.

Tiberius also has pictures from the outside. The quality of the portrait is old and brittle, the ink cracking slightly. But the frame is new.

It’s him as a child. Maybe ten or eleven, and a woman is with him. She’s behind him, her arms wrapped around him in an embrace as she smiles at the camera. Her eyes are tired. It’s obvious from the portrait she is sick. Judging from the smile on Tiberius’s face, he is unaware of her condition. I know instantly it’s his mother. Their lips and eyes are the same in shape. Though she has lighter hair, Tiberius must have gotten that trait along with his eye color from his father.

My eyes shift back to Tiberius in the photo. He is smaller than a child should be at that age. His skin is also tight. He’s dehydrated and starving. I scoff lightly to myself. Who would’ve thought he was capable of putting on so much muscle in a few years? He's strange to speak out against my opinion of the outside world and yet he has physical proof of the destitute life led.

“Here. Wear this.”

I turn away from the photo to see Tiberius exiting his bedroom fully clothed in an outfit that mimics those from the knight’s class. He has black fabric in his hands, his eyes shifting to the frame in my hand at the last second.

“I see you found my mother,” he says standing over me.

I look back down to the frame, setting it back in its place. But I don’t respond. I don’t know how to. Nothing I say could change the facts of his childhood. Though he claims to have been happy he was obviously in poverty and his mother died from the disease of the outside world.

I don’t want to shatter his optimism.

“Do you miss her?” I ask.

Tiberius nods, slowly approaching.

“Everyday.”

“I’m sure she would have been proud of where you ended up,” I say. Tiberius laughs humorlessly, his eyes shifting to the portrait.

“She didn’t want me to end up here. She wanted me to make a life outside of this place. But it was never about what she wanted, from the very beginning.” I sense double meaning to his words. Pain mingles within them shining more light onto the life he once lived. It isn’t my place to pry. What I needed to know about Tiberius is in his file. But for whatever reason, he actively went against his mother’s wishes and not only made a life within the walls of Etherium, but he thrived in doing so. His name will remain on the walls and in the record books for generations to come until someone else replaces him. And some may never.

In an attempt to change the subject, I gently pull the fabric from his hands, eyeing it curiously. It’s my size.

“This is your plan? Dressing as one of your own?” I ask. Tiberius rolls his eyes.

“You have obviously grown up a little too sheltered. We can’t just walk around the upper levels dressed like the pawns. If you’re part of the knight’s class, you can move freely through the lower levels. The sleeves will cover your markings.”

I hold up the skin-tight jumpsuit, my mind wandering as I take it in. I can see that its been worn before.

“Where did you get this?” I ask.

Tiberius crosses his arms, a cheeky grin forming.

“A friend.”

He doesn’t elaborate but continues to hold my gaze. It’s a silent challenge, daring me to express whether or not I’m bothered about the unknown circumstances of him having the clothes. If I’m being honest with myself, I am bothered. But I don’t want to explore the inappropriate emotion, nor do I want him aware of it.

“Are you going to show me where I can get changed?”

* * * * *

“This is ridiculous,” I say as I stare at myself in the mirror. I’ve never seen myself in any color other than white. Maybe some of my gowns have a colorful accent depending on the time of year, but a solid color like black has never made its way upon my skin. I turn away from the mirror, making my way out of the bathroom. Tiberius is waiting for me near the door, the amusement in his eyes remaining as I approach.

“Well?” I ask. Tiberius’s eyes roam over my face and he takes a step closer to me, reaching behind me. My breathing hitches in my throat as his eyes remain lined to mine while his fingers pull at the ribbon holding my hair into its braid. My hair falls from its style, and Tiberius runs his fingers through it, pushing it around until it rests around my face. I fight the urge to close my eyes as I feel his fingers in my hair. Physical touch is something I haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s just something that isn’t done. My father is one of the rare Etherians who does so in public, but feeling another man’s fingers play in my hair is a feeling that was foreign to me until now.

Tiberius steps back, placing the ribbon on the nearby table.

“The rules and customs of lower Etherium are different. They would know if they saw your hair like that, especially with an expensive fabric woven into it.”

His explanation is sound and yet he himself battles restraint as his eyes shift from my face to my hair. He laughs softly, pushing a hair away from my face.

“Are you ready to see a completely different world within Etherium?” he asks. I’ve come too far to back out now. I gesture to the door, forcing myself to smile in the way I’ve seen him do on multiple occasions today.

“Yes, I am ready.”

Tiberius watches me silently for a moment, his smile falling. He steps so close to me, that the heat from his body mingles with my own. I angle my head to see him properly, my heart beating faster in my chest as warmth courses through me.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. It’s outside of your jurisdiction. It has nothing to do with you. You don’t need individuality in your part of this world. Just say the word, and I’ll escort you back and this will never have happened,” he says as his eyes move over my face.

He is sincere on the outside. To the average mind, he is being kind. But in my eyes, something isn’t right. His words aren’t quite sincere. They’re testing me. His demeanor is once again closed off so as not to let me read into what he truly feels. His words were practiced with as little tonal change in them so as not to give anything extra away.

I push past him, pulling open the front door. When I look back, he’s watching me with a guarded expression.

“You know I don’t like to repeat myself. Let’s go.”