Portrait

Cassian's POV

Cassian stood on the first floor looking down at the hallway. He arrived just before the carriage did so he eagerly waited to see Isabelle coming home. He fidgeted uncomfortably as he heard Samuel laugh, and even more so when they walked in and he held onto Isabelle's arm. He was instantly filled with jealousy, especially as Isabelle didn't seem scared of him, but instead, she gave him a challenging look as she looked right at him.

"Have you had a good look yet?" Samuel asked looking at Isabelle. "What do you think?"

Cassian flinched at his friend's tone of voice. He didn't like the way he spoke to Isabelle. He expected Isabelle to look away but she instead replied to Samuel in a sharp tone. "What am I supposed to think? I only question his majesty's choice of his royal advisor."

Cassian's mouth dropped open as he didn't expect Isabelle's response at all. And there she was. At last, his Isabelle shone through.

"Really? That's daring of you." Samuel continued. Cassian couldn't help but feel irritated that Samuel smiled at Isabelle, or that he held her arm. How could she be okay with that?! Cassian watched the rest of their interaction feeling increasing rage. He couldn't understand why Isabelle was so terrified of him but yet she was so comfortable with essentially a stranger.

Samuel found him almost instantly.

"I guess that you already know that Isabelle arrived home safely," Samuel said with a smile.

"Indeed. I hope the journey back wasn't problematic."

"She was completely quiet in the carriage, actively ignoring my existence. She only spoke to me once we started climbing those bloody stairs outside." Samuel hesitated. "I think I am starting to like her."

"Really? Why?"

"She is truly beautiful," Samuel said to tease Cassian.

"What?!" Cassian gave him a death stare.

"She's sharp. I think I'll get to have plenty of battles of wits with her."

"She's your lady. You're meant to serve her and protect her. Not like her." Cassian said as he started walking towards the royal quarters. Samuel rolled his eyes, recognising that Cassian was jealous.

"Would you like me to place guards around her majesty's chambers to prevent another escape?" Samuel changed a topic.

"No." Cassian shook his head. "She isn't a prisoner. She cannot escape if there's no one holding her back. If she wants to go to Valarie, so be it."

"Is that wise?" Samuel didn't seem a hundred per cent sure about the idea.

"I don't know. But I am not going to imprison her and hold her against her will."

"Understood." Samuel nodded. "Well, if you do not need me, I bid you goodnight." Samuel decided to leave Cassian alone.

Cassian stopped by Isabelle's bedroom, hearing Matilda speaking to her gently as she was readying for bed.

"Goodness me, I was so worried about you!" Matilda said.

"There was no need to be, Matilda. I am ever so sorry for making you worried." Isabelle's soft voice sounded straight after. She was quiet again, unlike what she was with Samuel.

Cassian let out a sigh and left for his bedroom. The stress was wearing him down. He could barely sleep again. Between worrying about Isabelle and having constant nightmares after years of horrors on the battlefield he barely got a few minutes of shut-eye.

Isabelle's POV

Isabelle barely slept thinking of what punishment she will receive from her husband for attempting to escape. But also, her mind crept to Samuel and his unexpected mannerisms.

As the morning came she barely slept and she was up much earlier than usual. She readied herself and then walked out of her chamber in the hope to find Matilda. She didn't want to ring for her in case she was still asleep.

"I hope that you're well rested." A deep voice sounded behind her. She flinched but hasn't dropped to her knees as she usually did, perhaps because she was instantly paralysed. She knew that she crossed every possible line by running away and that her death was imminent. She held onto the door handle, not daring to look back at the owner of the voice. Cassian let out a sigh. "Next time, if you want to run away, take the carriage." He said before turning around and marching away. Isabelle realised that she held her breath in. She let out a long sigh before trying to decide whether she should still go and find Matilda. She decided to wait in her bedroom instead for Matilda to come up herself.

Isabelle replayed Cassian's words in her head for days after. She couldn't shake off that he wanted her to be gone. That this was an implication that she should have done a better job of running away, or rather that he wasn't planning to stop her if she were to do it again as she was only a nuisance to him.

Part of her felt relieved at the thought that he didn't care for her or want her. Part of her dreaded the moment when he will come after her and punish her for all of her failures and disobedience.

Isabelle was trying to be as quiet and as out of the way as possible, albeit she failed as soon as Jane came around. She was thankful that neither Matilda nor Jane reminded her of the runaway fiasco after that day.

Although, one good thing happened because of it. Few days after Matilda let her enter the servants' quarters again, which brought significant joy to Isabelle.

As Isabelle got used to the castle and learnt a few of the mazes, Matilda encouraged her to leave the room on her own, which she started doing, obviously after ensuring that his majesty was busy or away.

One of the most amazing things about living in the castle was that there were nearly thousand of rooms. And the Prince wasn't in most of them. Isabelle took it upon herself to walk into a new room almost daily, trying out new turns, to expand her knowledge of the maze that the castle has been in. She was surprised by the lack of punishment for her escape, and she didn't want to push her luck by leaving the castle for now.

It was one rather gloomy afternoon when Isabelle took a new turn, finding a corridor which had many portraits on the walls. More recent portraits in particular.

She walked across it, studying the painted faces with her natural curiosity. And then she stopped.

She stood still, her eyes wide open. She couldn't stop looking at a familiar face painted onto the canvas. The bright blue eyes. The ruffled black hair. The rose-beige skin.

The painted blue eyes could never match the true colour and depth of his eyes that were still ingrained in her mind. Sometimes, very rarely, she would still dream of him. She spent years trying to get him out of her mind and to forget him. She couldn't stop the dreams completely. Although they did become rare now that she didn't think of him as much, almost at all.

A boy, barely an adult, looked down at her from the picture with his perfectly untidy hair. He was beautiful. Oh how much she missed him.

She managed to bury memories of him as deep as she could, but now they flooded her at once. Her eyes welled up as she remembered that day - about five years ago her father told her that her dear friend died. He was much more than a friend. He was what kept her alive for so long. She loved him. And the day she found out that he died, she died too. Isabelle died with him.

Where there was once hope, willingness to live life to the fullest, and love, now there was a gaping black hole. Once she was a fighter, but then she had no one to fight for. She gave up. She buckled. She accepted what was. She became compliant. She let things happen with her head hung low.

As looked at the picture, she wondered if Prince Cassian ever spoke of him. If he cared about him as she did. If he loved him too.

Atlas. His name was Atlas.

Isabelle sobbed silently as she looked at a picture. Now that she saw him, she wanted to apologise. She wanted to say how sorry she was for trying to forget him. She barely could remember him anymore. Her memories started fading. This hurt. It hurt to think that one day she might not be able to recall the blueness of his eyes or his radiant smile. And it hurt even more when she wondered if anyone else remembered him, or if she was the last one to hold onto the memories of Atlas.