I sat at the dinner table, fork in hand and suspended in air, when Miss Smith called my name.

I looked up to see her, her homemade witch charms and all her white streaked frizzy hair glory, staring intently at me and squinting her eyes as she ran a hand down her bone necklace. She says it’s made of bone anyway.

My grandparents didn’t notice this at all.

Grandma was eating in the living room, watching her murder show and mumbling to herself who the murderer could be. She would be doing that until another three hours. Grandpa was in the kitchen, humming an explicit song I heard him singing yesterday as he rummaged through the fridge for a beer.

“Where were you today, Walden?”

I was trying to forget that actually.

“Near the woods,” I said for an answer, scooping in as much mash potatoes I could and putting it in my mouth, “Met a weird kid.”

Miss Smith twirled the skull charm at the end of her necklace between her fingers. “A weird kid, huh?”

“I thought you were gonna meet up with your friends, boy. I told you to meet up with them.” Grandpa walked out from the kitchen with his infamous cane in one hand and a beer in the other. He took a sip of the can, splashing a bit on his already stained and soiled tank top that looked older than him.

Miss Smith frowned. “Walter! You aren’t the one who does the laundry, you old fool!”

“Goddamm right I ain’t! Better remember that, woman.”

“Oh, please, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Grandpa cackled as he walked away to go to the living room, cane clicking on the wooden floor. I wondered when the last time it was replaced.

“Don’t go back there again. You hear me, Walden Jones?”

Miss Smith was back to being serious. It wasn’t like I planned to go back there anytime soon anyway.

I took a sip of my water and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Hey, my boy!

“Hey, Dad. How’s your trip going? You’re in France, right?”

Dad laughed, there was a whoosh of wind through the phone. Nope-a-dope, tell him where we are, Marge.

The Alps! Mom’s voice was high and giddy. Probably because of the lack of air up there. In the mountains. Not in France.

“The Alps?” I stopped doing my math homework as I thought about that. They had already went a few years back didn’t they? I said this out loud.

Waaalden! We haven’t been here in years! Dad stopped talking and started breathing shallowly. All right sport, I think that’s enough talking for me. We still have to make it to the top of this mountain.

“Okay.”

Love you, baby! Mum blowed me a kiss. Then the phone disconnected.

“Yeah. Sure.”

──── ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ────

Despite Miss Smith’s instructions, I found myself wandering back to the edge of the forest after school one day. I was hearing the whispering again—breathy soft air against my ear. I knew this wasn’t normal, it wasn’t average, but….

I froze when I saw a pair of lavender eyes staring at me eagerly. I should have turned around, but again I heard the whispers, so I walked forward, until I was in front of Lavender, and stopped.

“I know my mom’s gonna be mad at me, but she’ll understand. She will.” He looked up at me and smiled, grabbing my hand and stroking it my fingers with his thumb. “Hi, Walden. You wanna help me. You do, right?”

I tried to shake my head, but my head started to hurt, throbbing, needles of hurt sparking across my head. Lavender’s eyes narrowed and a dark reddish color mixed in with his eye color. His mouth opened, going closer to my hand he had in his grasp.

“We haven’t eaten at all since we got here, and Walden, you smell so sweet. Don’t leave. I promise I won’t take too much. I like you, I like your voice. I promise I won’t kill you. I promise, not like Timothy. I promise.”

You closed your eyes, trusting him with your safety. You winced as you felt his teeth through the skin of your wrist, after a while, though, the pain started to lessen, replaced with a warm feeling that made your heart race. And your body started to feel light. You suddenly felt the cold ground at the side. I let go of your wrist, shaking you—Hey! HEY!

“Can’t even train their young ones for control can they?” A voice said above me. It sounded like Miss Smith.

“I-I,” Lavender paused, “Witch?”

“Yes, I’m a witch, little one, now take your charm off this boy.” I felt fingers pry my eye open carefully. Miss Smith cursed, then my eye was closed shut. “Don’t even know how a thing your age can even have that much effect, but stop it now.”

Lavender sniffed, throat sounding clogged. “I don’t know how too, I don’t—I didn’t mean to, I swear. He won’t be like Timothy. I promised him.” Lavender started mumbling under his breath.

“You wouldn’t mind calling your parental unit, would you?” A cool air blasted against my face. I sighed, body relaxing in a way that was normal. My headache was finally starting to leave.

“Oh—okay! I will!”

Miss Smith grunted at him. I started to shake. “Shh, Walden, it’ll be alright.”

──── ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ────

I yawned, scratching the back of my head and I finished the rest of my homework. After school, I’d gone for a walk in the park before Miss Smith found me and lectured me on staying out late.

Yeah…that was what happened(?) Of course it was. When had my memory been wrong?

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

I turned to my grandma, a soft feeling entering me at her soft, wrinkled face and dim voice. “Yes ma’am.” I thought so. I was. I was.

“That’s good.” She went back to her show, but said to me, her voice low. “Trust yourself, Walden.”

“Trust…myself?” I repeated. The edges of my mind started getting sharper. “What do you mean by that, Grandma?”

But she was already back to her show, biting her knuckles as she watched as the detectives on scene searched a room for evidence.

My brain spasmed, and I hissed. Something had happened to me. Something that someone didn’t want me to know. What was it? What was it?!

“Walden?”

I looked up to see Miss Smith above me, striking her skull necklace as she always did. “Yes, Miss Smith?”

She asked, “You’re okay, right?”

She said, “Of course you are, that walk around the park must have winded you out, didn’t it?”

She said, “It’s time for you to go to sleep, Waldon. Go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

You nodded, knowing that she was right. You were a bit sleepy anyway. “Yes, ma’am.” You said, then stood up from the couch, homework in hand, and went upstairs to your room.

I stared up at my ceiling in the dark, head thrumming with pain. Did I have a fever? Fever…. Heat, I remember heat.

I lifted my wrist and turned my lamp on, twisting my arm around. Two stars were on it, dark against my skin and warm, warm, warm. I’d never felt anything like this before. My whole body was shaking and full and—what was I forgetting?

I felt a whisper in my ear, tickling it, begging me to turn to my window. I do.

A pair of lavender eyes stare at me before they disappear.

Trust yourself.

Okay, I would. For once, I would try something different. But I was still Walden Jones. Average, Walden Jones with his average life in his average town. Nothing would change that.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

_Not sure what to name this series, yet. This is my second one, but I’m sure I’ll have an overall title by the third. Maybe. _💀 Thanks for reading! ❤️ Tell me what you think, feedback is always appreciated!

※♤※

The day that my paradise shattered was the day I met, once more, the very man I shattered myself.

The sun was bright as it always was as I wake, a warm, snoring form on my right side and a round form at my feet. I sighed, rubbing my hands over my eyes before squeezing the bridge of nose. Last night, I had done overtime at work to finish up the rest of Miss Florence’s, an old widow who lived in town, flooring. It was easier with the legal right of magic that I had obtained the month before, but it still took over six hours to complete.

The small man to my right, Fade, shifted, licking his lips as he rubbed his closed eyes. I thought he was going to awake, but he just did a breathy sigh and settled once more. I stroked his head on my chest, my scarred fingers twirling a strand of his thick snow-colored hair, as the round dragon at my feet did the opposite. Ri, a baby dragon with a spherical body and a small neck and head, yawned, stretching his maw, then clicked at me as he stumbled over our limbs to lick my cheek.

I chuckled, pushing him away so that he wouldn’t bestow Fade with the same greeting. “A good morning to you too, Ri, did you both have a great day yesterday?” Ri chirped, his stubby tail wagging. I laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I don’t know about all that,” a lazy, rough voice said, the vibrations rumbling against my chest, “I missed you awfully so.”

Ri went to lick Fade on his nose, and I turned to smile at the brown-eyed man. After Ri finished, we kissed, a soft, sleepy press of lips, then rose to get ready for the day—I did anyway. Fade stared at me with a longing look, and Ri hopped off the bed and out of the room to most likely hunt something.

Fade stared at me dress, pale chest bare and the rest of him hidden under the sheets. Although I couldn’t see his expression as I lifted my shirt over my head, I knew he was frowning. More over when he said, “Are you too busy with work to not worry about me?” His voice was weak as he asked this, vulnerable. Something close to a rock lodged in my throat. I didn’t turn to answer him until I finished dressing, and my heart clenched when he was right there behind me.

He had gotten so thin over the year. The trousers that had once fit him perfectly hung low against his sharp, jutting hips. Fade’s lips were thin as always, but the pinkness of them had dulled, as well as the rosiness in his cheeks.

“Fade—I—” I had been working more and more over the years to pay for his medicine; yes, it was hard, but loosing Fade would be harder. How I lived before him, I did not know, but then I knew that I couldn’t live without him. His was the sun to my moon, the water to my throat. “It’s not like that—quite the opposite really.”

Fade’s head tilted in question. “Really?”

I brought his lips to mine and reveled in the softness of his lips. Fade’s hands went to my shoulders, gripping them as tightly as he could to bring me closer, and closer. Our breathing turned shaky at the same time, mouths opening and mashing together, but—with control that somehow possessed me at the moment—I tore away and smiled at the disappointed whimper he made.

“Yes, really, if you can believe it.” I rubbed our noses together and grinned. “I think worry about you every time I breath.”

Fade nodded, biting his lips to contain a pleased smile. “I can believe it.”

We startled as a loud knocking rapt at the front door of our cabin. I hissed, thinking that it was my employer, Taz, who had a reputation of being rather unpleasant when his workers came in late. I looked up to check the clock—it wasn’t even near the afternoon. It was bright and early.

I kissed Fade one more time before letting him go. “Go back to bed, dear, I’ll come by and give you your tea after I see who’s at the door.” Fade nodded glumly. I heard Fade grumble about the tea being _fucking poison _as he shuffled back under the covers, and I closed the door to our bedroom. The loud knocking resumed, and I shouted, “CURSE THE FOG! Just wait, will you Taz!?” I quickly strode through our small kitchen and opened the door with a bang. “Alright, what do you wa—”

My eyes widened as I took in the the pair before me. Both were ripped, muscles concealed beneath their armor, the royal seal of and eagle and a snake embedded on over they hearts. The one in front of me was staring at me, eyes cold and shut off, mouth quirking in the middle of a frown and a fake smile. His dark hair was streaked with gray, and the lines on his face seemed less than a weakness and more of the strong groves and rings on a tree. He knew me as well as I knew him, he knew what I had done, why I had left.

The soldier behind him was less composed. Anger poured out from him, as well as his magic, which was bubbling and the same heat and intensity of his feelings. His hair was that same custard color that I remembered, his eyes that same shade of lavender I used to tease him for. His mouth was still red, though his teeth were bared and not at all welcome.

The older man cleared his throat, calling for my attention. “Prince Damien, it was very hard to find you.” My heart lurched into overdrive and my legs shook. Whatever expression was on made face, it made General Leawds sigh. He ran a hand through his short hair and gave me a putting pitying glance. “The king wants your head, my boy.”

The custard hair man stepped forward, eyes still hard. “And that’s why we’re here.”

“Why?” My chest rose quickly, tightening as I realized that this may be my last day alive. My last day laughing with Fade and Ri. My last day seeing him smile for me. “To—to kill me?”

The general, sighed. “Of course your my goes there, your highness, but no, that’s not what we came here to do—”

“We came here to protect you, Damien! So shut up and let us inside so we can talk to you about what you missed!” The custard haired man seemed pissed. Of course he was pissed.

“Val—” I started before yelping at the sharp dagger that was pointed at my throat.

“Do not—don’t call me that, you bitch.” Valore’s eyes were painful, cutting through my heart even as he sheathed his dagger back to his side. “Don’t call me that.”

General patted my shoulder, and I jumped at the touch, my nerves firing again. “May we come inside?”

And, seeing as I had no choice, I opened the door for us all and closed it behind us.

I could never have peace, could I?

※♤※

_Author’s Notes: _

_This was just a random thing I free wrote on my Pages and posted here. 🙃 My wrists are hurting, sooo. _

Tell me what you think about the story, so far! And if you wanna ask me questions—please so I can develop the plot—go ahead. I’m not sure what the title of the story should be, and if you have some ideas, I will be grateful.

Thanks for reading and have an amazing day!

I looked to Ruby, who was curled up on the ground. Crying. She’s always been so soft hearted. Too soft hearted.

I squat down next to her. “Get up.”

She whimpers. Of course. She’s too weak. I shove her. Ruby should have gotten up.

She’s just not worth it. She’s too traumatized to be useful. I take a step in the opposite direction, only pausing to give her another chance. She doesn’t take it.

I walk into the bustling street, full of merchants and beggars. I want to shout at them. Tell them to get a real job. One that’s useful. One like mine.

I know my next assignment. I just need to find him. And it’ll be much easier now that Ruby isn’t dragging me down.

I should be more compassionate for her. That’s what anyone else would have done. But I am not anyone else. I don’t care. Ironic, since my whole family cared. They cared so much that they were willing to sacrifice themselves. For a little boy. I was smart enough to run when the soldiers came to our house. The rest of my family refused to run. Consequences for their actions. They would still be alive right now if they weren’t so caring.

I shoved my way past more and more people. Then I see my target. I slide the knife out of my pocket, training my eyes on a brown haired man. He takes up half the road. I get an easy target today. His gaze flicks to mine when I let the knife fly. Hitting him square in the chest. He collapses. Coughing and gasping. I run.

I race down the street, turning the corner. Running straight into Ruby.

“Mathew!” She exclaims. Joy seeping across her face, along with relief. She looks like she’ll cry again. I shove past her.

She frowns. “Where are you going? I thought we were a team.”

I shake my head, frustrated. I’m wasting time. “We are not. Now move.”

“But… Liam said we were a team. To do the assignments.”

I scoff. “Liam took you in as a charity case. I won’t. If you’re going to keep bawling your eyes out every time you see a dead body, you’re not meant to be here. Go. You’re not useful.”

I see the tears weld up in her eyes. I nearly groan. Of course. Why? Why do I have to be stuck with her?

“I- I can be useful. I’ll… I’lll stop crying. I won’t ever cry again.”

I shake my head. “Just go. You’ve wasted enough of my time already.”

“Please,” she begs.

I sigh. I should just leave her here. But she’s right about one thing. Liam placed us together. And I seriously don’t want to get fired.

“You kill the next person,” I squeeze my fists. This was going to be interesting.

“T-thank you,” she smiles. A big toothy grin. I nearly laugh at how ridiculous she looks.

I lead her to the crowded street. Looking at every identical house. Trying to find the next person. The next person to die.

I spot her. Sitting on top of a house. Legs dangling across the side. So dangerously close to the edge. I smile. She’ll make this easy for us.

I lean down to Ruby. “Right there,” I point to the girl. Ruby freezes as I hand her one of my knives.

She grips it in her shaky hand. Aims it. Throws it at the girl. Hits with perfecting. Even better than me. I see why Liam likes her. The girl tumbles down. I drag Ruby to bolt.

But Ruby is frozen solid. Hyperventilating. I knew that this would happen. “Ruby,” I snarl. Her eyes stay trained on the girl. I sigh. Then pick Ruby up, and throw her over my shoulder. She doesn’t flinch.

I bolt into an alley not far from where my old house was. I lay Ruby down, then collapse next to her. She doesn’t stir.

“Ruby!” I scream. Trying to break her out of this daze. She looks up at me. She’s shaking.

“I killed,” she says, only slightly above a whisper.

“You did good.”

She shakes her head. “My father- he always kills. He trained me to be this monster.”

Reluctantly, I ask, “who’s your father?” I regret it immediately. Now she’s going to start crying and talking and I’m not going to have my silence.

Instead, she stares off. “Liam.”

I frown. “Liam?”

Her fists wrap around a knife. They turn white. “You might think he’s so great. But he’s a monster. He holds no love in his heart.”

I frown. Liam has always been nice to me, more like a father figure if anything. He trained me to be cold. To show no sympathy. To be the person I am now.

We sit there in silence. Ruby turns towards me. Crosses her arms. “We should go.”

I nod. “Of course.”

She walks away, her blue eyes swiveling from one person to another. Being the killer her father trained her to be. I shake my head. I have no sympathy for her.

A magical library that was said to be like a labyrinth, was seemingly no place for a small, young man with one long braid grown out to show his love for Star Wars. It wasn’t quite a place for Natalia either, a young lady, a bit taller than average wearing huge platform boots to compliment her black and purple hair. Boots and braids, an interesting pair and two very different people to happen to reach for the same book. There was one last copy of A Midsummer Nights Dream on the shelf and they both reached for it at once. Ernest was a gentleman and politely smiled, taking it down and handing it to the tall lady next to him. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked up at her. She mumbled a small thanks as her mouth remained in a frown. “Uhm- excuse me?” Nat turned around, poorly hiding an eyeroll expecting for the normal guy thing of “you look prettier without makeup”. Instead, Ernest said something that make her reconsider a few things. “I like the purple in your hair and how it matches your lipstick…” She looked at this small man as though she was asking a question with her eyes. Was he messing with her? Ernest on the other hand, was beaming up at her and seemed to not be snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Thanks- I guess…” She mumbled softly. Nat didn’t want to open up. She wouldn’t do that after last time. “You’re welcome! Have you read it before?” “Hm?” “A Midsummer Night’s Dream- h-have you read it-?” Ernest fidgeted a bit with his fingers. “Only small bits- but I’ve never seen the play.” “It’s really good and I think the college is putting on the play in a month or so- would- you like to go-?” “With you-?” Ernest gave a small nod. “I uhm- I have a boyfriend and I’m not sure- I’m not really friends with you…” “I mean if it’s in a month maybe we can be friends first?” “I don’t think so.” She tried walking away but he had to check out his book anyway, a different Shakespeare book. Natalia rolled her eyes and made an annoyed groan. Ernest noticed and looked down at his worn boots. “I’m sorry for upsetting you…” “Yeah yeah whatever…” Ernest let her check out her book first, standing out of the way before checking his own book out. One day he’d write the kind of book this girl would want to read- at least he hoped. He came up behind and had to go on his tiptoes to see over the computer. “I’d like to take out Loretta’s Lengthy List of Labyrinths?” “Are you sure sir? This book is very very difficult to get through.” Ernest smiled back and nodded. “I’ve heard the stories and I’m excited to try” “Alright young man” The librarian sighed and checked it out. “This will be interesting…” Ernest nodded and curled up in a nice big worn chair. He cracked open the book and out flew little sparks like how they fall away from a firework. It lit up his face and his eyes went wide. The library changed somehow as he looked up. It had a resemblance to a labyrinth- eerily so. Natalia was now far out of sight.

I

She awoke with a peaceful stretch above her head. Outside, the birds sang. She opened her mouth in a yawn and drew the warm sheets from her body, stepping from the white, linen bed. She could smell the breakfast her husband had cooked for her and she drew a robe around herself as she walked slowly to the kitchen. He was waiting for her there, smiling. She had found true love.

II

He awoke with a painful groan, curled in the fetal position. Around him, total silence. He opened his mouth in a groan of pain and stretched his jaw so far it cramped. He patted his chest to draw his leather jacket closer around himself, but found that it was gone and he wore only an undershirt. The garment was stained in blood, grime, and dirt. He could smell the sewers seeping their rot from the ground, and he drew his arms around himself as he tried to slowly stand. He fell. Nobody was waiting to save him. He had never found true love.

(Sequel to Sleeping Arrangements. For the gist of that story, it is about Della, a princess on the run because her kingdom was attacked. She went to his carriage to sleep in the night and met Cade who was trying to watch out for his family’s bakery. She chooses not to tell him she is a princess. He defends said bakery with his archery skills. And now you’re caught up!) ———

The sun peeks through the curtains of the carriage. It is enough to rouse Della from her slumber.

She shifts, her joints aching, and accidentally kicks something that groans at the contact. The events of last night floods back to her. She unintentionally broke into a man’s carriage with him in it, and then proceeded to throw all the etiquette lessons out the window.

That man, Cade Clark, let her stay and she also got to witness his archery skills. And that brings her to now.

Cade rubs his thigh where she had inadvertently hit him.

In the light, she can see him better. His chestnut hair flopped in his face, almost to his eyes. He has a shadow of facial hair, closely shaven to his face.

When he glances at her, his eyes are bright. Are they blue? Or green? Della decides it’s a mix of the two. A really pretty combination.

“So you want a bite to eat?” His voice rumbles, possibly lower from just waking up. It takes her aback with the casual vernacular. Being surrounded by Royal tutors all her life, it is peculiar for her.

“Yes. That would be lovely, if it is not too much of an inconvenience for you or your family,” she responds, recalling how he protected his family’s bakery last night.

He laughs, not a mean-spirited one, a joyous sound. “Not at all. My Ma loves meeting new people.” The title of ‘Ma’ surprises her. Not many people she knew called their mother ‘Ma’, but then again, she grew up with hearing her mother called Queen Nerva.

Guiding her into the bakery, Della and Cade are welcomed with the literal open arms of his parents. “Cade! Did you sleep in the carriage last night?” Mrs. Clark exclaims, exuding the warmth only a mother could give off. It makes Della feel homesick, missing her own mother.

“Yep. A couple thugs tried to break in again,” he explains, not regretful at all, even under his mother’s glare.

The conversation is so comfortable that Della feels as though she is intruding. It makes her want to rock from one foot to another but she stands still with her hands folded in front of her, ever the diplomat.

“Who is this lovely lady?” Mr. Clark ask, noticing her. Mrs. Clark’s eyes light up at her form. She practically vibrates from excitement.

“I’m Della,” she introduces herself, though she pauses after her name, not knowing what information to share. Certainly, not her royal moniker.

Cade must have noticed her hesitation and fills in some gaps. “She was just passing by, looking for something to eat, and I thought we would give her a Clark special.”

His mother claps her hands very enthusiastically, actually startling Della with the speed in which she does it. “Of course! Della dear, what kind of sweets do you like?”

Before she can provide an answer, Mrs. Clark is already producing a tray and arranging pastries on it.

“Anything is quite okay, Mrs. Clark. I am grateful for your hospitality,” Della expresses. She thought she was being a considerate guest, but all the Clarks laugh.

It is a chorus of similar cackles. Cade has this bright smile on his face, almost reaching the shine of his mother’s eyes. Even though she is a bit baffled ok why they are reacting like this, she can’t help but grin.

“Oh, no need for such formality, hon. Everyone calls me Mama Clark,” Mrs. Cla—Mama Clark reveals.

“You come close from the castle, don’t you?” Mr. Clark, who has not given her another name to call him by, comments. Looking down at her son clothes, she thought the servant’s outfit would be enough for her to blend in. When comparing hers to theirs, there is still an evident contrast in quality. She feels her cheeks blush, coloring her face in what she hopes is not perceptible.

“I do. Worked in the castle.” It’s a technicality. She doesn’t like concealing her identity, but there is this weight lifted from her shoulders when interacting with people not knowing her status. Extrication from her normal life.

Ordinarily, Della is painstakingly attentive to her wording. With the high stress of the dilemma at hand, she slipped. “Worked?” Cade notes. If she could discreetly punch herself, she would.

With them opening their doors to her, there is a bit of an innate obligation to provide them with some intel. Not all but enough to give them context. “I am to get a message to Tarvin.”

“Is this about the attack on Allaver. That really is a horrible. What kind of person launches an ambush like that?” Mr. Clark comments. Della lets out a breath in relief. Without leaving the walls of her home for most of her life, she and her siblings were isolated from their kingdom. The perception of the royal family is something she is largely unaware of.

All she does is nod to confirm his inquiry.

Before they can question further, a customer comes through the door, interrupting their conversation. It eases her to be done with it for now.

As Cade’s parents welcome the person, he guides her to the back, behind the counter and then through a door, completely obscured from the front of the bakery.

The smell is what gains her attention. The rich, sweet smell of baked goods. She longs for the quiet mornings with her mom in the kitchen, their cook having prepared a sweet treat.

Cade must have taken the tray that his mom began putting pastries on for her because he produces it and holds it out for her.

There’s a pastel cupcake, a fancy looking tart, croissants, and other mini desserts. It looks professionally done. Her mouth waters.

She gingerly chooses the cupcake first and attempts a dainty bite. Her mom always stressed that you must act as though you are being watched. Because as a princess, she is constantly monitored. But the moment the scrumptious chocolate reaches her taste buds, she cannot stop herself from shoveling more in.

“This is delightful!” Della couldn’t help but gush about the pastries. And she thought the cooks back at the castle were good. These had a certain warmth to them. A warmth that spread from her mouth to her whole body. Cade laughs. “I’m glad you find them good. Ma and Pa make all these by hand. It’s why it is important that our store’s safe. It’s expensive.”

“I can see why your bakery is so successful,” she compliments, in between bites of the delectable treats, moving onto the tart that had shiny fruit arranged like a flower on top.

With her eyes and mind occupied with the food, she doesn’t witness Cade’s mouth open and then close, deciding against what he was about to say.

“So you were tasked with getting a message to Tarvin?” He finally gets out.

Taking a last bite of the tart, she glances up at him. She should choose her words carefully. “Yes. The attack means the royal family needs all of its allies.”

Now he looks nervous, eyes refusing to meet hers, his hands fiddling with a cookie, breaking off small pieces. “What if I tag along?”

He sounds hopeful?

“Why? Because I’ll need help?” Why else would he join a mystery journey? Does he have a martyr complex or something? Like she is some damsel in distress.

“No. I have no doubt you could make it there by yourself. It’s just maybe some company would help the time pass faster.” With his big eyes and charming smile, he resembled an eager puppy. It would be difficult to say no to that.

She definitely should decline the offer. Who knows what troubles are ahead of her. Being a princess of a kingdom that was attacked, people could be after her. He is at a disadvantage since he is not aware of all the information. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” she says truthfully.

“I think I do.” He speaks with such conviction, not shying away from looking her directly in the eyes. Della holds their intense eye contact. She can’t tell if he knows about her title or not. Those eyes. As if in a trance, she finds herself agreeing. “Ok. But if you lag behind, I’m leaving you.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I highly doubt that. You are too kind of a person.”

Della wonders why he thinks he knows so much about her. They only met last night. If he assumes about her character, what else can he gather? “You overestimate my virtue.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Della has to admit that having someone with her would be comforting. Having to separate with her siblings left her quite lonely. It also helped that he had had combat training or at least a high degree in archery. She didn’t need him, but maybe she wanted him there.

For his archery skills! Nothing else!

——— (Do you ever imagine certain people or actors when you write? Sometimes I do to help me imagine how I want my characters to look like. Just curious. Hope you are having a good day!)

My master enjoyed long walks. He’d walk as a headless chicken let loose by fumbling fools, quick, staggered, in pain but silent. I’d join him in his daily venture with a harness tied to my neck, a fabric of polyester, that kept me tethered to his waddling spirit. We kept a steady pace and would only stop when I’d spot something rigid and broken, he was not too pleased whenever I did. I used the past tense because he was now rigid and broken.

He met his demise, in the comfort of his home without another bipedal in sight. His eyes rolled away from the TV then fixed themselves on the back of his head, his lids remained halfway open but his mouth was sealed tight.

“Don’t go” were the only words I could think to whimper. I found myself standing next to him, unable to make a move. His body slouched to the side, like a garbage bag propped against the wall. I could only watch as gravity made slight readjustments to his posture.

“How will I survive on my own?”

“You must”

I heard the response coming from the kitchen, and the voice sounded as cold as gravel. It was the neighborhood street cat. He sauntered over to the window frame just outside the kitchen sink and let out a low, grumbling purr as his sides brushed against the withered bricks.

“You must young Perro, stay alive for your master”

“What do you know”

“Of having a master nothing. Of surviving? I know it all.”

With eyes that glistened as if they were a part of the stars, he looked through the kitchen glass window. His grey fur made him practically invisible in the dark esthetic. And that smirk on his face makes him all the more menacing.

“So will you”

“I will find another master” I barked back, waiting for his response

“ You might, but you have to escape this house first”

“The doors are locked and windows are all sealed,” he said, tapping the glass with his paw

I was too grief-stricken to notice the locked exits. My master always locked up before bed, often after his supper in case he fell asleep on the couch watching TV.

“What will I do?” I practically begged the cat for answers “What food will I eat”

“You will eat what is presented to you, like him” His head nodded in my master's direction, and my stomach churned at his words. How could he be so cynical?

“Not now young perro, but sooner or later, you'll be fighting with the rats”

( I will try to release more installments, tell me what you think and what I can improve upon)

[Back story to the series {It Was Me?}] [Please read story first or this will spoil it]

Jacob: he grew up in a home without a mom. His dad quick to anger, would hit, scream or anything to make someone cry or make them feel pain. He admired his father and soon became like him. He found that murder soothed his aches.

Darren: Darren was Jacob’s best friend ever since kindergarten. He was very kind but had a hard time being truthful.

Jacob’s girlfriend cheated on him after 3 years of dating. The person she cheated with was Darren.

Julian

"C'mon, Oliver! We're on in a minute dude!" I grab my guitar, hoping it's tuned correctly. He grabs his drumsticks, and Caelum high fives me.

"This is our chance to play for a crowd!" he grins.

Oliver rolls his eyes, but I can still see the excitement in them.

"They're all gonna be drunk anyway, they won't care."

I strum a practice note, happy when it sounds good.

"Let's go!" I practically shriek.

**_Casper

_**I don't really know why I'm here. I'm too young to drink, and I'm not really interested in trying to find a wife in a place like this.

I'm sure God wouldn't approve either.

Taking a seat, my hand immediately goes to my cross necklace. I take a deep breath to calm myself.

The sudden sound of loud music rips me out of my thoughts, and I wince.

Jeez, why is it so loud?

I look up to see a band, immediately locking eyes with the guitarist.

_Julian _ It's exciting to play in front of people, even if only a few are listening.

I've helped write most of these lyrics; the ones that aren't covers of pop songs, at least.

Mid-song, eyes flicking up to scan the crowd, my gaze meets another boy's.

And for some reason, my fingers slip and I play the world's worst chord.

I can practically hear the sharp intake of breath from Caelum, and see the way Oliver winces.

Yet I don't look away from this boy.

His hair is short, and wavy brown, and he's fiddling with something near his neck.

He looks kinda... nerdy. With his button-up shirt and dress pants, he doesn't look like the kind of boy you'd see in a bar.

I realize, a little too late, that I've been staring.

Snapping out of it, I attempt to catch up to Oliver and Caelum.

They're gonna be pissed.

Casper

I have the worst headache right now, and whatever that noise was did not help in the slightest.

The guitarist finally stopped staring at me, but I can't help feeling out of place in this bar. Everyone around me is sloppy-drunk, and I know that's something God wouldn't like very much.

Maybe I should just go home. I watch the band start to leave the stage, and my head finally has a break from the loud 'music' that they played.

Beginning to stand up, I'm stopped by an older man.

"ID?" he says sharply, and I freeze.

Oh no.

"I-"

What do I do? I can't lie to him...

Before I get the chance to respond, a warm voice fills my ears.

"He's my cousin. Only came to hear me play, y'know? Sorry for the trouble, Dave."

I look up to see the guitarist from earlier.

Shaved black hair, piercings that make me cringe, he smiles down at me as the older man--presumably the bouncer--walks away.

"Ah, sorry-" I mumble, putting some distance between us.

"No worries-" the guitarist laughs, albeit a little awkwardly. "I'm Julian, and you are..?" he extends a hand.

"Casper." My response is quiet, and I don't shake his hand.

I fidget with my necklace more, watch the way his eyes trail down to it.

There's a brief shift in his expression before he smiles again.

"Have a nice night, 'kay?" the guitarist--Julian-- says before heading back off with his band mates.

My chest feels oddly tight, and I take a shaky breath before leaving the bar.

(excuse my writing if it's bad, i haven't written in non-poetry form in a bit, and just needed to get ideas down. it's a rough draft!!)

Vasil and Luda; like two peas in a pod, and yet, so different. Vasil, raised in the city, smart, but quiet and unassuming. Chocolate brown hair, dark brown eyes, freckles, and a thin stature. Luda, who grew up in a villiage, with one friend (who was not her friend anymore), loud and confident, friendly and kind. Bleach-blonde hair and gray eyes, stocky and sporty. Such differences, and how do they get along? Vasil leads Luda to the subway, and they take the train to the museum. The museum is a wonderful place, full of paintings and statues and other artifacts on display. They ooh and ahh and look around and laugh, and when the day is over, they stay at a motel, and talk long into the night. As Vasil gets comfortable on the couch, he feels a now painful memory resurface. It was a few years ago, when he had first met Anya after taking the scholarship in the villiage. There had been a party, and Vasil had no one to talk to, until Anya came up to him and started a conversation. They had talked until long after the party was over. Vasil is still angry with Anya, but he can’t help but miss her. _She was my best friend, but it’s her fault that she chose to ruin that. _ Vasil drifts to sleep that night with a crying heart.

Anya spends the day after Vasil and Luda leave reading her favorite books. Books are like painkillers, only you can never overdose. But there are only so many hours you can read before your vision begins to blur, so Anya finally has to put down her book and think about what happened in the last few days. _Luda took another friend away from me. _Anya suddenly drifts back to a memory a few years ago, when she was at a party. It was a party for the few new students coming to learn at the villiage’s school, (which was the only reason their town was on the map in the first place) and everyone was invited. Anya had come just to distract herself and eat some food. Sadly, the distracting bit wasn’t working. So Anya did the first thing she could think of: _Talk to the first person you see with brown hair. _She saw him sitting alone at the bench, and was so grateful to have an opportunity to take her mind off of things and avoid tears that she practically ran to sit next to him and start the conversation. In the beginning she kept it going just to do something, but soon she found that he was a nice person and she wanted to know him more. That was how Anya met Vasil. Although he quickly became her best friend, Anya could never bring herself to tell him the painful memory of Luda, and how Anya and Luda had been like sisters before. She could never tell him about how they got into a fight, and hurt each other beyond repair. She could never tell him about how she had lost all her friends after that day, because Luda was prettier and funnier and smarter and kinder and better with words, so who wouldn’t side with Luda? And yesterday, Luda had taken the last person who was special to her. Now, Anya’s heart, which had never stopped sniffling after her fight with Luda, was sobbing very much indeed.

Luda can’t sleep. She can hear Vasil’s steady breaths. She can feel the rumble of the cars on the street, and they’re honking so loudly. For a second she wonders how Vasil is sleeping until she remembers that he grew up here. Luda tosses and turns, and tries to ignore the feeling that has haunted her for more years than she can remember. _This is temporary. _ _ This will only last so long. _ _ He will leave or disappear or you will push him away, just like everyone else. _ _ _She remebers the night when this thought first came. She remembers the night when she was eleven, just a child, and her older brother had come into the house, angry and upset. She had at first done nothing. Then she remembered him _crying. _Her older brother never cried, so she came up to him, and she hugged him, and told him not to cry, because it was so sad to see him like that. Luda hasn’t expected his reaction. He had shoved her off, yelling at her, screaming, his face red and unfamiliar. She still remembers the words that had stung so much. “What is wrong with you?! You’re just so selfish! Can’t you see I’m angry? Can’t you see there’s more that matters than you?! No one will like you! They will all leave you!” She had gone to bed that night wondering what had broken, what shattered, what had snapped. The next morning, her brother left home, with a note saying he moved away to the city, and Luda never saw him again. Ever since then the same scary thought ran through her mind. How many people will leave me? How many others will I push away? It had turned out she would push away everyone. She had tried becoming prettier, nicer, smarter, she practiced being good with words, and at first she thought it had worked. People had wanted to be her friends, and pretty soon she became the person who had connections with everyone. Those connections all broke in less than a year. All but with Anya. Anya had been her friend for years, and they had been like sisters. Anya had begun to heal the gaping hole that Luda’s brother had left, until Luda messed that up too, and pushed Anya farther away than anyone ever before.
Luda went to bed that night like always; with an every-increasingly self-destructive heart.