17 Chapter 17 - second meeting

The signs of the coming war were suddenly everywhere. It seems it had been officially announced.

Mother's usual face of boredom and disgust was nowhere to be seen, and etched in its wake was a face full of nerves and uncertainty. She didn't even spare a glance at Victor.

The maids would constantly whisper with faces full of distraught. Their jobs were at risk ifthe country was to go to war. Money would be only invested in military which meant they would lose their jobs and it was no secret to them.

About a half month had passed since I had seen father and he hadn't shown himself after that. It wasn't surprising.

No.

What was more surprising was the tall brown haired boy with purple streaks, obsidian eyes staring at me in... fear was it?

"Princess Mallory of Blackburn", he spoke slowly, the outdoor breeze making his hair flow dramatically among the dead and wilted flowers, "what do you want from me?" The fearful eyes narrowed cautiously, Adam's apple moving up and down as he gulped nervously.

I gave a blank stare in reply.

The ball I was supposed to catch from Edmund who still threw it from a distance bounced off my head, but I still stared at the boy.

He didn't waver at the ball that hit me, nor did he ask if I was okay. He just stared me down.

A small barely two year old girl.

Something I wanted to use to my advantage for this foreseen moment was the advantage of a child's memory. The ability to forget. Kids take a while to develop the part of their brain that remembers so this shouldn't be hard at all.

"Who are you?"

He looked surprised at this.

"Y-You forgot?-" he pointed a finger to his face with a stupefied look.

I continued to stare blankly.

"From- From the party! Don't tell me you forgot that was only two months!"-

"What's a month?" I asked curiously, snickering internally.

He was at a lost for words. And then frustrated, he pointed at me, "don't lie to me! You clearly remember me!"

"Mommy..." I fake sniffed with a tearful expression.

The annoyed face quickly became flustered as Edmund neared and with accusing finger shouted, "what are you doing to the princess!"

"N-Nothing I'm just-!", he took a deep breath and with a calmer expression looked at me, "You ruined my chance to prove myself!" His were full of scorn.

I expected this. His backstory explained enough and I knew he wouldn't be happy about this.

"What do you mean?" I tilted my head feigned innocence.

"Don't play coy!"

"Hey! Don't talk to her like that!" Edmund had become riled up by Raphaels aggressive behaviour.

"You- You ruined my chances of proving my self to my family! I know it was you! Why would the king who never even glanced my way suddenly give an offer to be a chancellor in training! I knew right away when I saw that letter!"

He was clever in that regard.

"Hm?"

"The Harlow family, is a family of the strongest knights! How- How could they accept me if I'm not even a knight! How could mother!- father!- and- and older brother ever see me as one of them if I'm not even a knight..." his narrow shoulders shook slightly, the curled hair that brushed it moved along with it. His eyes had drooped to the ground and his hands fisted, "They'll never accept me".

I visibly grimaced.

Something the book hadn't invested much words into was Raphaels backstory. It was just one sentence. One sole sentence.

'A child born from a prostitute, unlikely to hold any true Harlow blood, had it not been for his black eyes'.

That was it.

But, if you look at it closely, it said more than enough.

A child born from a prostitute. A woman who slept with many and more. The Harlows forced to accept him due to their unique eye colour that he possessed.

And then how his father sent him to an uncertain war to get rid of him.

I couldn't imagine what a shitty childhood he must've had...

"But... isn't that position good?" It was Edmund who said this.

Raphael grit his teeth when he heard that, "Yes, it's too good for someone like me! I knew it the moment I saw their faces. That's why", he knelt down, facing me with a desperate face, "please princess. Please make me a knight instead!"

My heart quivered.

No!

I can't give him what he wants! Not if- Not if it jeopardises his future!

"I- I don't know what you're talking about" I shifted my eyes away from him nervously.

Large hands grasped my small shoulders, forcing me to stare back into those large, black eyes.

"Princess! Please!" Tears gathered under red-rimmed eyes.

I clenched my fist to distract my self. Hardening my heart as much as possible.

"Second son of the Harlow Family? What brings you here?" Mother's voice, full of concern and confusion, broke apart the stressful atmosphere.

Raphael jumped to his feet at her words, fumbling his words and he dusted dirt of his trousers, "I came here to visit Lady Jean. I grew fond of the place after the party", he lied.

I laughed out loud.

He couldn't lie to save his life.

Mother, naturally, raised a brow as she sceptically replied, "is that so?" She threw me a look of vague curiosity to which I just smiled. Like a child. Because that's what I am today.

Mother had invited the distraught boy in, leaving me and Edmund alone once again.

"Why were you talking like that?" He suddenly asked, right when the door shut.

"Like what?"

"Like an idiot. I like it better when you're rude".

H-He does? But when am I even rude?

"I'm not rude!" I protested.

He gave me a blank face as if he had just given up on arguing back and retrieved his ball.

What the hell does that mean?!

I decided to head inside after I noticed Edmund taking to his wooden sword instead of the ball we were given. He held the ten kilogram sword like it weighed nothing and moved it in swift and agile swings. Jumping, crouching, rolling, any move you might need to use with a sword in your hands. Sometimes times he's stop and glance my way with narrowed eyes, when we would make ye contact he would snap his head away, ears redder than a tomato.

Alright... people get nervous when you watch them so enough is enough.

The house inside was as always. Maids bustling, cutlery clanking in the kitchens, scents of sweetness and savouries following it.

But the kitchen was nicest part.

The rest of the house was dull. Colourful. But dull. Boring.

People made homes. Without people a house was really bland.

At times like this I get homesick, but today wouldn't be one of those days. No. Today I had work to do.

I entered the living room, knowing full well I wouldn't get noticed.

Inside sat Raphael, alone.

Mother must've left him the moment the food got here. She wouldn't care for someone so insignificant to high society. That was just how she was.

I approached the boy who stared absentmindedly at the food. He seemed far away. Mind not relishing in the amazing scents of casseroles and pies.

"Hey" I tugged his sleeve, snapping him out of his day dream.

"Princess! It's been a while!"

Through surprised wide eyes I stared at a familiar all too wide smile and a face so close that the wording 'personal space' had just been defenestrated.

"Y- Yes. It has..." I answered with a stutter.

He glanced around the dining room with that Cheshire grin, "I'm not home it seems. This must be your house".

"Yes".

"Can I ask you a question little one?" The crazy alter turned to me.

"Um- sure?"

"Why does your mother dislike you? Are you not her child?" He asked. It seemed like he didn't understand concepts like respect and such so I answered.

"Because I'm a girl. Because I look different. Because people laugh at her when they see me", there are too many reason...

His face stared in that strange interested way as always. As if he valued every word that left my lips.

"I see. And does that make you feel sad?" He asked, slower and more normal.

I stared down at the body I was in with a frown and shook my head, "I feel bad for Mallory..." I answered thoughtlessly.

"Mallory?" His eyes became rather wide at my words, not in shock but in that weird interest again.

"What?"

"You feel bad for Mallory? Not for your self?"

I flinched in realisation.

Damn it!

"Why was Raphael angry?" I attempted to change the subject and through knowing eyes, the boy complied.

"Because he wanted to be a knight and he would've been, but you changed that".

"Oh..." I knew that...

"That's why the little Raphael ran away. He must've been angry. He doesn't like to be angry", his words caught my interest.

"Little Raphael?" I leaned closer curiously.

"Yes. That's what I call him since I'm older than him. He's angry at you. He blames you for now, but don't worry too much about him soon he'll be thanking you", he chuckled with that crazed grin. Words spoken so fast it took me a while to process them.

"Do you think so?" I asked, my voice lowered a bit recalling the desperate face of the teenager from the garden with guilt.

"Y-Yes - ouch!" He suddenly grasped his head with a groan, "No! Not yet I'm not done talking! I don't care if you want to talk to her!" His eyes shut as he started to shout out words that didn't seem directed at me. It seemed like he was speaking to himself, his face scrunched up in pain as he did so.

"What the matter? Are you okay?" I tugged at his sleeve in worry this time.

And then, like a familiar crack of glass. I stared at cold, dark eyes. A face that knew no warm smile and instead a cruel, psychopathic tilt of his lips.

"We meet again, young princess".

My breath hitched. Hands trembling beside my torso as I realised I had once again awakened the beast.

"You've caused trouble for little Raphael it seems? He's rather angry at you. And when he's mad he leaves the dirty business to me", a long slender finger pointed to my head, my eyes trained on it out of fear, tensing as it came closer to my head of hair and freezing up when it finally touched my brown tresses.

"S-Sorry..." why was I apologising? My voice stuttered on its own. And my knees threatened to buckle beneath me.

"Are you?" Those abyss like obsidian eyes bore into me.

I nodded.

When did I become so bloody submissive?!

"Don't be".

Eh?

My head snapped up to the cold face, to find it giving me a smile. A warm smile. I almost gasped.

"It would've been much worse if little Raphael had gone to war. The rest of us know that well. He would go back in and never come out. He knows that too". His eyes met my own, covered in a look of interest, "but how does a small child know that? Barely of the age of two and having never met little Raphael to my knowledge?" He tilted his head.

S-Shit! I never thought I'd be discovered so fast! How? Where did i leave signs?!

Maybe when you decided to meet every bloody male lead!

No shut it! That wasn't my fault!

Oh god no.... why am I arguing with my self?

I stumbled back, "what do you mean? All I told my dad was that I liked Raphael!"

The cold face was rather stunned.

"You like Raphael? That crybaby?" He furrowed his brows as if he wasn't speaking about himself.

Thank god he bought it!

"Yes I like him. He gave me food call. People who give food are good people", this was basically true, right?

His eyes widened in surprise at my answer and a few moments of stunned silence later, he began to shake. Chest vibrating as he covered his mouth, and then like gushing water a laugh sounded out across the room.

I was the stunned one now.

He can laugh?...

I was so sure he was the bloodthirsty persona from the book... but now I wasn't sure at all.

"Why are you laughing?"

"The princess is silly. That's why", he patted my head, "but you shouldn't be so naive princess. Some people will approach you with nice food and jewellery, but their insides will be full of greed. My best advice is: don't owe people favours", he looked serious all of a sudden. Looking me right in the eye.

I couldn't help but question his words, "why?"

"Because you are you, princess. Right now only I see that, but soon others will see it too", he stood up from table with that same cruel smile and waved me off with his hands, "now go on. Play your silly games and be off. I'll see you sometime soon", he knelt down and took Mallory's pudgy hands, kissing it and then he left. Not turning back once.

I stared after him with wide eyes.

Who was that alter? Who was he truly?