P2 Not Your Treaty

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Part 1 here

A second part was requested almost as soon as I posted this story…here it is seven months later. I apologize. I hope the anon who requested this is still around 😭

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“Will she not follow?”

Villain rolled his eyes. Not at the lord- gods, he knew better than to roll his eyes at a lord. No, Villain rolled his eyes at the door behind him, the one that shut loudly with a thud, and with no tiny footsteps behind him. Hero remained outside, probably still in the damn tree.

“She will,” Villain promised. “Eventually, she will have no choice but to follow me wherever I go, wherever I please.”

As Villain strode to the head of the table, the same lord opened up. “What worth is she if she cannot accept even marriage? It is the role of a princess to prepare for courtship, yet she could never lift a teacup to her own lips. How could she ever help a kingdom- desperate or already prosperous?” This particular lord was an old man, one once close with Villain’s father, the king. He was used to advising, to speaking when no one wished to hear his opinion- which was heinous more often than helpful. His grey hair did not make him wise.

“I do not need her for tradition. You know that.” Villain straightened the sleeves and shoulders of his top as he took a seat. “Hero is worth more with her fire than with an easy obedience.” He shrugged lightly- as to not ruin the tidiness which he just achieved. “How will the rest of the lands know of our power without seeing what alignment the princess suffers through? They know her well enough to know she desires defiance. She climbs trees now,” Villain explained, “but soon she will be painting them red.”

Noticing another lord, Villain asked, “Don’t you agree?”

The lord, who jumped with the fright of being addressed, drew his hands together and began picking his nails. If it weren’t for the fire crackling behind Villain, the whole room would have heard the lord’s fingernails ripping. “W-with which part, Your Highness?”

“Well, with any of it,” Villain stated. His own hands were folded in front of him. The way the prince held himself was just so slightly inhuman, so calculated and meticulous, that it unnerved every person but one. Hero. For now, though, his strategically straightened back, his folded hands, and his unblinking gaze would get him his way. “I am not so sure you have listened to a word spoken since I walked in. Do you care to share your hidden thoughts?”

Knowing this was no question at all, the lord spilled. “I apologize,” he began. “My mind was occupied by unrelated matters.” Admittance could never excuse his former or present absence. The lord was always gone, always ‘occupied’ as he so called it, and although the prince was forgiving, Villain was growing weary; it was hard telling when someone was plotting against the crown versus simply keeping their head down beneath that of authority. The lord- or boy, rather- was young, his hair still vibrant with colour despite the anxiety he felt under his prince’s prying eyes.

Villain rose a brow- nodded in the boy’s direction, a prompt for him to continue sharing. He did:

“I was thinking, Your- uh- Your Highness”- he kept his head ducked down, only occasionally making eye contact with his higher-up- “that if the king is ill, and there is no male heir to the throne, then Hero will never…” The boy lord cleared his throat and continued picking at his nails, which were more closely considered skin at this point. “Then Hero will never follow you home. She has sisters to care for, ones she already cares deeply about.”

“You are too sympathetic.”

“He might be right,” the older lord cut in. As always, Villain didn’t care for his advisor’s opinion, but he listened, knowing he would get a mouthful later if he didn’t. “If you want the princess to learn cooperation, you must learn compromise.” He continued before the prince could argue back. “You want to charm the other kingdoms, not terrify them. You think showing them a bruised princess from a falling kingdom will make them like and respect you? It will only bring retaliation against our legacy.”

‘Our legacy.’ Oh, how I would love to sew your mouth shut.

“If she wants to stay here, wed her here. Become the king of a broken kingdom and show the rest of the lands how capable you are of building it anew. That will earn us prosperity.”

“The whole reason for our being here was to bring her home and make her my queen- to strike an alliance for the benefit of trade.” Why would Villain ever stay in this wretched land of wolf claws and fallen trees? Fallen trees like broken crowns.

But the old lord presented another good point. “If you let one of your brothers take the throne of our kingdom, you will still have your trade, and more. You will have your homeland’s local benefits, this land’s local benefits, and whatever trade happens between the two.” A crooked smile raptured his face and he continued, “And if you come to resent your brothers for their own uprising, well, you will be the one with a glorified image- stepping in the way you are to help a saddened princess repair her kingdom. How glorious of you to volunteer taking the reigns of a land in shambles. You will be a god, Villain.”

With perhaps the most fortunate, coincidental timing, the door leading outside opened, and in stepped Hero. Her eyes were puffy, even from across the room. The princess’ sleeve was torn, exposing her tanned and olive skin. To top it all off, the body of her dress was littered with mud and vibrant green grass stains. “My branch broke,” she explained. “I want a place to sit that is not rock or hard dirt.”

“By all means,” the boy lord said, “take my seat. I need a breath of fresh air, anyhow.” With a curt nod, the lord dismissed himself from the table, leaving Hero in the wake.

I Am Bleeding Too

(NOT A PR0MPT)

inspired by this song, which I cannot put in this post for whatever reason, so- uh- click the link if you want to listen to said song :p

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Her hand was cold, her eyes were shut, her jaw was slack, and her skin was pale. Maybe I should have known then and there that she was gone. The puzzle pieces were already put together and yet I was disassembling them in my mind.

See, her hands were always cold- I would tease her about it, and then use it as an excuse to hold a hand, to squeeze it as I walked her through the flowery gardens. This moment was no different, was it? The chill of her hand was because she had no gloves, and the wind was simply lowering her temperature.

Her eyes were closed because she was tired- same as her jaw. She was tired, and so she was sleeping. That was all this was. I needed to take her to her rooms. There was no reason for her to be sleeping on the ground- now wet with blood.

And no, it wasn’t her blood. It…it was mine, right? As I considered it, I felt a pang in my arm and leg. Usually, the pain would have caused me to falter, but I needed to take her to her bed, and that’s what I would do. So, I lifted her, light in my arms, however heavy on my mind.

It was difficult to lift the sheet while holding her in my arms, but I would do anything for her to be as comfortable as possible. I might have accidentally woken her up if I had laid her on the bed, and then pulled the cover out from beneath her, only to cover her up.

The blood followed us. I had not meant to bleed on her mattress, and I hoped she would not wake to my metallic smell.

“You are still so cold. I am loving a frozen bag of bones.” I gave a slight chuckle, imagining the small fist that would undoubtedly thump my shoulder.

‘I have some muscle,’ she would have said if she were awake.

‘Maybe you do, but you have not spent every day in the courtyard. I could take you there someday.”

She would have rejected the idea right away, despite wishing we were more fairly matched. I know she could gain a lot of muscle if she took the time to do so. Half the boys we were already training would never be as strong as her if she ever took up the training I offered. Her potential was vast. Even she knew it, but, well…strength was not what mattered to her- not the physical kind anyway.

“It is daylight, my love. If you keep this up, you may be accused of vampirism.” Another thwap would have been delivered if she were awake. Of course, neither of us believed in such myths. Burying people beneath cages was ridiculous- not to mention a waste of good metal. If anything, people were being buried alive and clawing their way out from the ground- not rising from the dirt in order drain the blood of ‘humans scouring the lands.’

“The sun is out. We should take a stroll through the garden, like always.”

Why was my voice seeming to echo? Sure, the curtains were down- I think I remember her tripping earlier; that must have been when the drapes fell- but…well, there were supposed to be people in here. Servants, dusting the crooks and crannies. A lady-in-waiting, following her every move and offering to tighten her corset. Why was there no one doing these things? Why were her and I so alone?

Now was when I laid a hand on her chest, over her beating heart…only to find that it was not beating at all. At first, I only felt terror and I froze- much like her- but then I said this, “Today was…look, I know there is blood on your bed, but it can be cleaned, okay?”

A tear fell from my eye. I could not process why I began crying. It was never something I did before- even when I got badly injured as a kid, or, on a rare occasion, in training. Why were there tears now?

“Are you upset with me? If you are, you can tell me so. I would rather you say so instead of feigning sleep.” This did not explain the absence of a beating heart. It did not take much longer for me to realize such an astonishing fact. With that realization came this one as well: the blood was hers as much as mine.

“No. No, I am bleeding too, okay?” I was bleeding but I was fine. “Come home, love. Wherever you are, come back to me. Okay? Please.”

I thought of a ground made of clouds in the sky and I thought of her increasing pace as her soul detached from the body laying on this bed. “Please don’t run away.”

“Where are you? Where are you?” I asked. And she gave no answer, no beat of the heart despite my hand remaining there like a heavy stone. “Let me bring you back,” I begged her, holding her hand like so many times before. But she wouldn’t squeeze back. She wouldn’t come home. And worst of all, she wouldn’t take me with her. “Just come home.”