Hannah sat peacefully in her bedroom, the candles around the cold stone wall on their last breath as she sewed the final stitch in her fathers shirt. She nodded in approval at the patch work she had done in mending her fathers garment, was there nothing she couldn't sew?
Carefully she tucked her needle and thread away in the golden box under her swinging bed. Her long slate skirts trailed behind her as she left the dark atmosphere of her bedroom, making her way through the lonely castle. Everywhere she turned, their were massive paintings of her mother hanging on walls or sewn into tapestries, forever reminding her of her absence. It had been her fathers doing, letting himself get completely swallowed by his grief as he stared longingly into her grey eyes wherever he went.
Hannah hurried down the cold halls, stopping just outside her fathers study. She knocked on the door gently, knowing he wouldn't answer, he never did. After a moment or so of complete silence, she pushed the door open and peered inside. Sorrow hadn't done him well and had drained him to nothing more that a faded wrinkled man, lying head down on his desk. He grasped a frame in one hand, no doubt another picture of his late wife. He was surrounded by piles and stacks of paperwork left untended, sheets of dust draping them like the fall of new snow. Behind him the fire cracked and flickered, the only sound in the drab room.
“Father,” Hannah stepped quietly into the office. Her father gave a sigh, the only proof that he was still alive.
“I finished mending your shirt....” She paused, hoping that maybe this time he would offer some form of adoration. Another sigh escaped him and he rolled his head just enough to gaze at her from over his arm.
“I'll just leave it here.” She folded it neatly and placed it on a corner chair. “Dinner should be ready soon, will you...come dine in the hall?” She let her hands clasp together, as if pleading with him. He gave a groan of sorts and pushed himself back into his chair, forcing his brows together.
“Tell cook I'll take my meal in here.” He finally grumbled, spinning his chair around so he faced the fire. Hannah's face dropped, her midnight hair brushing over her cheeks.
“Ok.” She responded before slipping back out of the room and into the hall where her mothers gaze was immediately upon her. “I'm trying.” She whispered, glancing up towards the painting that hung above her, surely her mother would be displeased.
As she made the walk back to her own chambers, the bone rattling sound of chimes echoed through the corners of the scanty castle. Hannah quickly changed direction, hoping to make it to the front doors before the head servant. The archaic wooden doors creaked loudly as she swung them open, allowing the refreshing dusk air to breeze by her. A figure stood just out of the light provided by the castle, draped in a dark velvet coat and hood. However, Hannah recognized the scarred pale blue heart that quivered and glistened, visible to her eyes alone.
“Toby, nice to see you.” She offered a kind smile as he threw back his hood. She immediately noticed the dark rings under his eyes, but didn't say a word about them. Instead she stepped aside, offering him passage into the foyer. “Would you like to come in?” She asked. Toby was quiet for a moment. He seemed on edge as he looked backwards over his shoulder and then peered inside to see if maybe someone else might be listening.
“Hannah...would you...come with me?” He finally spoke. Hannah, realizing he was trying to be secretive, stepped outside and shut the door behind her.
“Is something wrong?” She asked, finding herself glancing around the empty yard in the same nervous manner he had been.
“Yes, well not exactly. I just...I could use some company.” He was ashamed to admit it and kicked shyly at a stone by his foot. Hannah couldn't help but smile, hoping this meant he was finally opening up to her.
“Of course I'll go with you.” The words hardly escaped her lips before he roughly grabbed her arm and took off through the quaint castle's yard.
“W-where exactly are we going?” Hannah stammered as she tried to keep her clothes from snagging on bushes and brambles.
“You'll see.” Was his reply as he hurried her out of sight of her home. The night began to grow darker as the moon hid behind a veil of clouds. Hannah's suspicions began to grow as Toby led them down the back allies of Reges, the Domun capitol. She could hear the bustle and clatter from the main streets and assumed he was trying to keep a low profile, after all, who wouldn't recognize the young prince?
Soon however, he took a turn that guided them just outside town and into a small gathering of trees. Immediately Hannah recognized where she was, a gasp escaping her as a familiar cottage slipped into view. It was a cozy little place tucked in a small pocket of woods just a skip away from the capitol. It was so close, in fact, that there was a secret back path that led those who traveled it right to the rear garden wall of the royal castle. However, the path had been neglected for some time, and was hard to spot under the tangle of wild weeds and flowers that lived there.
Toby released Hannah's hand as they neared the tilting building. The once baby blue shutters were now splintery and grey, nailed over with boards to protect the windows. Vines gripped the stone walls of the house, tangling up to the roof. A large padlock hung over the once inviting door which she so often knocked upon as a child.
Hannah held a hand to her heart as she felt a sudden swelling of sadness in her chest, distant memories of sunshine peeking through the trees to warm the faces of her friends danced through her mind.
“I...I didn't know it was still here.” She broke the quiet as Toby neared the front door. He watched her as she floated about the front yard, noticing the small details that remained untouched. Her hand slipped to the old Sycamore tree where “D+S” had been carved into a small heart in the bark. She ran her thumb over it, wondering at how it felt like just yesterday that the young prince had etched it as Saroura watched from the tree branches above, a blush resting on her plump cheeks.
The jingle of metal snapped Hannah back to reality and she turned to see Toby fiddling with a ring of keys.
“Wait...you have the key?” She ran up to him, watching as he slipped one into the lock and the chains over the door slid away.
“I come here when I need to...get away.” He shrugged, pushing the worn door open. Hannah held her breath as she stepped through the threshold. Nothing had changed, everything was in place like it was frozen in time. If it wasn't for the thick dust on the furniture, Hannah would have guessed that Marcus and his family still lived there.
“I don't get it...I thought after Marcus vanished, his wife moved away with their son.” Hannah questioned, eyeing a small picture of the missing family resting peacefully over the fire place. Toby lit a candelabra, taking a seat at the neglected kitchen table.
“They did, but father seized the property and ordered it not to be touched, in hopes they would find Marcus and he could resume living here. I didn't realize, until I was older, how much father favored him.” Toby dropped the ring of keys on the table, a puff of dust rising into the air. Hannah moved gracefully over the wooden floors, taking in the house of her childhood.
“I feel like I practically grew up here.” she mused, noticing how Toby nodded in agreement.
“We were all so fond of Marcus, we hardly left the poor man alone.” He joked.
“I think he enjoyed our company. He was a refuge after all, it's not like he had any friends or family here, just us.” She reminded him. Toby scoffed,
“How lonely do you have to be to enjoy the company of five kids?”
Hannah rolled her eyes to his remark before settling down in a stool near the fire place. It was a pleasant surprise for Toby to bring her there, but she knew he hadn't done it for her. It wasn't like Toby knew she felt completely miserable at her own home. He didn't know how she dreaded returning to the empty stone mansion filled with nothing but pictures of her late mother. He hadn't a clue how her heart broke at the sight of her fathers closed office doors, or how the cold lonely halls filled her with a deep depression. There was no way Toby could know any of this, these were things she bottled inside of her in hopes not to worry others.
She sat patiently, waiting for him to gather up the nerves to speak with her. She could see his heart trembling in his chest, his emotions eating away at his very flesh, he was a total mess. She had seen the same in her father, but Toby was fighting it. He let out a shaky sigh before turning to her.
“I was...thinking about mom today.” He started, Hannah saw his heart swell as he inhaled sharply. “She would be so ashamed of me.”
Hannah thought tears would begin to form, instead he gritted his teeth, his brows furrowing together as he practically growled at the table. Anger bubbled over and he slammed his fist down, causing the keys to jingle.
“What makes you think that?” Hannah questioned, she knew this was a touchy subject but she hated to see him so pained.
“Don't pretend like you don't know. I'm sure she'd roll over in her grave if she knew the things I was doing.” He folded his arms in a pouty manor.
“So he's accepted her as dead.” Hannah thought to herself, he seemed to coat everything in a negative light.
“Toby,” she stood, “I think...maybe you are the one who's ashamed.” She dusted the back of her dress. Toby shot her a stern glare, but she saw through it. “You're not bad Toby, but you give in to your urges.”
“What would you know?” He spat bitterly. Hannah sighed, she was going to take a chance.
“I know YOU Toby. I know that you've always had communication problems, ever sense we were little. I know that you are sad and miserable inside. I know that you are too prideful to admit it to Diabolis. I know that you take one girl after another to your chambers hoping that he'll notice. You need him more than ever but you don't know how to approach him, so you try your best to make a scene, hoping that he'll notice how unhappy you are and come to you. However, he hasn't, and you resent him for it. You've let yourself harbor all this anger and frustration towards your brother, because it's easier to bare than the pain and grief knowing that your father is dead and mom is never coming home.”
Toby's eyes met her own and he bit his lip. She saw his eyes water over in the light of the burning candles.
“Ah, there are those tears.” She thought, glad she had gotten through to him. Toby didn't have any words to rebuke her or fight the truth, so he let the tears trickle down his cheek.
“What I don't understand...is why you took Lilith.” She muttered, sitting in the chair beside him. He looked up, horror on his face.
“How did you..”
“Me and Bialus saw her kiss you in the garden. After she had mysteriously vanished during the party, it didn't take a detective to figure out what happened. My question is why? Diabolis had wanted you to stay with him during the party. I thought that was what you had been waiting for, then you went and left with her the moment the opportunity presented itself.” She ran her fingers through her silky bangs. Toby sucked up the snot that threatened to drip from his nose, and wiped at his puffy eyes.
“I heard what you said about her. She was trying to get to Diabolis, I could tell just by looking at her that she was serious. Diabolis doesn't know what he's doing, he's too trusting. If she wasn't stopped, I guarantee she would have gotten her way that night.” Toby explained.
“Diabolis isn't like you.” Hannah snorted.
“No, but Lilith is.” he grumbled.
“So, are you telling me, that you seduced her for the sake of the kingdom?” A side smile began to creep up her cheek.
“No,” he muttered, “I did it for Diabolis.” Hannah let her hand slide over to his, gripping it tightly in her own. “You know, there hasn't been a single girl that didn't ask me about my brother. They're all trash, sleeping with the prince and then asking if they can see the king...Like..No, you can't you street scum.” Toby spat, gritting his teeth. He tensed as Hannah scooted over, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“He loves you...you know that right?” Hannah whispered softly. Toby let his head droop against hers.
“Doesn't feel like it.”
“Well he does. He worries about you, he thinks about you, he cares for you, you're his brother. You've got to tell him how you're feeling.” Hannah advised. Toby was quiet, letting himself drift in her arms. His head ached from all the emotional stress he was feeling and he tried desperately to think of something else. He let his eyes wonder over the cabin, taking in every detail. His gaze fell on a small hand made blanket that draped over the sofa. It had faded pink flowers all along the boarder, reminding him of the small rose haired girl from their childhood.
“Do you ever...hate her?” Toby muttered, remembering how Hannah had lingered at the carving in the tree.
“Who?” Hannah asked, but she knew who he was talking about.
“Saroura...” his voice was a whisper at the mention of her name, leaving a different sting on his heart. Hannah let a sigh escape her before sitting back in her chair, staring out a crack in the boarded window thoughtfully.
“No. I never did. Sometimes I get angry, wondering how she could just leave us. I wonder why she stopped writing and why she didn't show up for your fathers funeral, but I could never hate her.” Hannah confessed. Toby nodded, seeming to agree with the thought.
“I wonder if she remembers us.” Toby said.
“Maybe.” Hannah added, letting another pleasant memory play out in her mind.
The night grew old as the two friends sat together, taking turns reminding each other of better times and playful stories, allowing, if only for a moment, their sorrow to be forgotten.564Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV8XuffYtA6
The night was long and quiet for most of Domun country, until the sun returned, bringing with it the peaceful sound of morning. Across the country, on the outskirts of the Erip region, Saroura bustled down the lengthy stone path to the post box. Her short legs carried her quickly, her trail of pastel pink hair waving behind her.
She hummed delightfully to herself as the morning rays danced over her sun kissed skin as she reached the letter box. A single scroll was tucked safely inside which she diligently retrieved. She took a moment to admire her home for possibly the last time before heading back inside. She had lived all over Domun country, and so far, this small farm had been her favorite. Her and both her parents had only been in the tiny stone cottage for three years but it felt like an eternity.
She decided one last stroll through the rose garden wouldn't hurt before she returned to finish the packing. She took her time as she wandered through the yard, admiring flowers and plants along the way. Finally, as she rounded back towards the house, she looked down to the scroll in her hands, untying it's clasp. She immediately recognized the sloppy signature of her father and sighed aloud,
“Dear Saroura,” she read “I am happy to announce that we arrived in Hemes just this afternoon, which by the time you get this will have been two afternoons ago. As planned, the wagon will arrive for you and the rest of the trunks at noon. Please be ready. However, I regret to inform you that you will not be making a straight journey to the new home here in Hemes. While we were in Reges, your mother accidentally left behind her box of paints at the inn we were staying at. I have sent a letter to the keeper and informed them that you will be there to pick it up. Enclosed is the address of the inn. Safe travels my dear, love, Dad.”
Saroura folded the letter quickly, sliding it into her skirt pocket.
“Reges...” she muttered to herself. It had been years sense she had last been to the capitol of Domun country, the royal city, and for a reason too. She winced and tried to fight off the distant memories that popped into her mind. She had pushed Reges from her thoughts for so long, and now here she was, forced to return again.
Quickly she stepped back inside the cramped cottage, finding herself surrounded with chests and crates of the family's belongings. Hoping it would be a distraction, she busied herself with the last bit of packing there was to do. The last box, a box for her things, was resting on her bed. She moved with purpose as she folded what was left of her clothes into the small container.
“I won't be long in Reges.” She spoke to herself, not even realizing that she hadn't stopped thinking about it once. Her hands began to shake and her pace quickened as she grabbed a silk skirt.
"I won't even be there ten minutes." She assured herself.
"I probably won't even talk with more than two people." She tried to take comfort in her meaningless babbling.
“In and out. I'm just picking up moms paint box.” She reminded herself. Oh that stupid paint box! why was her mother always so clumsy? For the whole of their retirement, her mother and father had slowly traveled Domun country, painting the sights along the way. Not once did they forget or lose there things, until now.
“It just had to be at Reges...because they just had to paint the royal coronation.” Her voice began as a huff but died into a sad whisper as she let her words sink in. She had refused to go, when they informed her of their departure for the capitol, how could she bring herself to go back there? There was no way she could step foot on her old street, no way she could stand in the crowd at the castle gate, no way that her heart wouldn't explode when she saw him, there on the balcony waving to his people. It would crush her for sure.
Saroura stopped, collapsing onto her bed in a heap beside the box of clothes. Her chest ached and she covered her eyes, she couldn't cry, she promised herself she wouldn't anymore. However, her thoughts betrayed her, as long repressed memories flooded back: his mismatched crimson and baby blue eyes, his playful half smile that showed off his dimple, the enticing scent of cinnamon that seemed to linger in the air behind him.
The pain in her heart grew as she recalled the whispers and secrets they shared in the winding paths of the royal garden. The promises he made when he carved their initials into the tree, together forever. She knew it was silly to fluster over the empty vows of childhood sweethearts, and unrealistic of herself to set her heart in those promises. Despite all this, she couldn't help the utter heartbreak and betrayal she felt the day his father announced the planned marriage arrangement with her own friend, Hannah Hollow.
After that, it was easy to move away with her family. They decided to pursue their dream and retire, dragging their heartbroken ten year old with them.
“I was so..stupid.” She hiccuped, trying to suck in the tears that refused to be suppressed. Her family had been nothing more than common folk who worked a sewing shop in the capitol. He was a prince, the royal heir, all of Domun country rode on his shoulders. Yet it all seemed so perfect, so easy to believe for a little girl. Still she should have know better, she should have known a relationship between them was impossible, should have known he was too good for her, but yet, what can stop the fantasies of a child?
Alrighty, finally got Saroura in the story (about time). Everyone in this is sad...and cries all the time.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
