My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

I never knew my mom was such a crafty, sneaky vulture of devious nature. Barely even sat down and already she was plucking handfuls of fries off my plate.

For some strange, inane reason or another, I can't help but hyper-focus on every move she makes. Even if all she was doing now was freely helping herself to my lunch, somehow, it felt like she was doing a lot more than that.

She could go to any nearby vending machine at any point and push for Pepsi over Coke, and my brain would probably interpret that several thousand different ways ranging from bad taste to a blatant sign of the end times. Both possibilities would be equally as likely in my head.

Maybe it's because of her outfit. Yeah, I'm blaming her outfit. It's settled, black is as bad as it gets, and no one better dare take that out of context.

"Where did Dad go?" I asked, finding myself glancing around again at some point and noticing the absence of a particular hulking giant. "Sammy too. They leave?"

"Behind schedule," Mom answered, taking the fork from my hand and helping herself to a slice of ham. "Lots of things to do today, so I sent them on their way. We're just only supposed to stop by for a while, didn't mean to stay this long, but oh well… seems I was just in the right place at the right time. Pretty lucky, right?"

Indeed. All the stars in the galaxy must have all perfectly lined up to the galactic center for such a miracle to occur. Or it could also be a matter of not-so-divine intervention but I'd probably just be reaching at that point.

"Well, are you not going to say it then? I've been waiting for it," she said, leering at me with a sort of playful anticipation.

Needless to say, unless I've got some hidden affinity for telepathy, I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"Say what?"

She let out a small chuckle, before promptly smothering her voice in a deep, gravelly tone, "Oh my God, Mom! You're literally unbelievable! I cannot believe you went and joined my movie without asking me first! You're seriously—"

"Okay, I do not sound like that!"

"—embarrassing me in front of my friends, y'know! I'm—like—so mad at you right now!"

"Just how old do you think I am?" I asked, utterly floored by her performance. "Whatever fifteen-year-old you're channeling, it clearly isn't me."

"Ah, true. I don't think you've ever given me any kind of attitude," Mom reverted to her usual self. "Samantha, maybe. But not you. Even at that age, you were always so mature—so forgiving, maybe too forgiving."

I let her have her little moment of retrospection. I dug into my plate; almost sure if I gave her the chance, she'd finish my meal for me, so it's best I take what I can before it's all gone.

"You know, I really wasn't expecting such a hassle on my first day on set," she let out an audible breath, masking her pure amusement in a sigh of exasperation. "All that shouting, all those retakes… mistakes…" Then from the ends of her lips emerged a small smile. "They're terrified of me."

"Yeah," I said. "But that's the point of the scene."

"Too terrified."

"Have you tried being a little less terrifying, maybe?"

"I threw it out as a suggestion," she said. "But your director insists I stay as I am. Apparently, I'm perfect as I am."

"Too perfect."

"Absolutely," she agreed. "I suspect there'll be a lot more mistakes and a lot more shouting if we're going to perform again. At least I can take comfort in the fact that he won't be shouting at my son."

"Nothing to shout at me for," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Not my scene, not my lines. No mistake to make. I just kinda exist for the time being. Which is fine by me."

"Unfortunately," she frowned, sighing, an actual one this time. "You would have made the scene a whole lot better in my opinion. Just imagine it for a moment: the suave handsome Chester utilizing his charm to placate the evil demon and save his companions from a most terrible fate. I would really like to see that happen. You know, since Leonardo at the moment is seemingly no-good and all."

That's when I had a sudden thought. Can't believe it's never occurred to me 'till now to ask. Maybe I just had too much on my mind, or maybe I just didn't want too much—ignorance is bliss and all—but right then, the curiosity was too much to bear.

"So you really did send that Dad to this forgotten realm at one point, right?"

Mom didn't even look fazed at such a curveball thrown right at her. Cleaning my plate of all the fries, she answered, "As soon as he got too annoying to continue taking in stride, I did, yes. Got rid of him so I could finally fully direct my attention on Astra's impenetrable barrier."

"If you wanted to just get rid of him, why send him away?" I asked, slowly feeling a swell of disbelief hearing the very words thump in my eardrums. "Why didn't you just kill him?"

"Why?" Again, she didn't even bat an eye at me, not even at that. On the contrary, she chuckled. "Why don't you tell me, dear? Why do you think I didn't?"

Oh, great. Deciphering her intentions. That's practically my specialty, isn't it? If the past few minutes were anything to go by, this can only go so well.

"Honestly, it doesn't make much sense to me looking through your point of view," I said after giving it some thought. "Dad's the only thing standing in the way of your objective. Not killing him just makes your work a lot harder. Unless, I'm guessing, for some reason… you simply weren't able to?"

"I could kill him," Mom answered with such cheery casualness, that I felt a surge of coldness run through me. "It wouldn't be easy. It'll be hard-fought… but if I really, really wanted to… I can."

"Then why…?"

"Because I didn't," she said. " I only needed him away. Just for some time. Just enough time to destroy Astra's barrier for good. When he eventually returned, it was business as usual. I didn't want your father dead."

The more she answered me, the more muddled my view of things became. It was like an ocean. From the shore, shallow, visible. But as soon as you dive in and dive deeper, the less you can see, and before you know it, you're splashing blind through the vast darkness.

Once again, the same question, the same word left my lips. In each instance, a different context, imploring for a clearer answer, "Why?"

"That I suppose, you'll find out soon enough," she said to me, letting out another weary sigh that was anything but. Not with that wry smile still on her face. "If we ever manage to get through the scene, that is. At this point, we can only hope, can we?"

It's starting to get extremely disorientating. Every time I look at her, talk to her, she's a different person each time. Like some sort of optical illusion.

Stare at her one way, and I see my mother looking back at me. But tilt a little left, and suddenly she was someone else… someone I'm having a bit of difficulty trying to unsee. And this conversation certainly wasn't helping matters.

The way she talked about the past, her past. No shame, no remorse, nothing at all. And I know that was just the way she was with things, that I shouldn't read too much into it. But seeing her on set, the literal incarnate of evil without the slightest fumble, and hearing her now… I can't help but just think.

"Do you… do you miss it?"

And somehow she knew. With that widening smirk, I knew she knew what I meant, what I was thinking. Because that's just how she always has been.

"Miss what?" She asked rhetorically, playfully. "Being me? I am me, sweetheart. I always am, always have been. Then and now."

"Even when you're so different?"

"Different how?" Her brows rose in challenge. "Because I'm not destroying the world right now. I'm not a murderer right now? A monster?" She chuckled again. "Or is it because I love you all now? That I have a family to care for? That I taught you all right from wrong? That I appear to be somewhat good?"

"All of the above," I said, feeling my voice choked back into little more than a slight whisper.

For a moment, her smile faltered. Saddened, disappointed, feeling the slight pang of guilt of having to smother the hope from her dear boy who was trying so hard to redeem her in his eyes in any way he could.

Or so I hoped, believed. Interpreting from the thousand possibilities swirling in my head.

"Then let me ask you," she said, staring me in the eyes. "What makes you think I wasn't capable of any of that back then?"