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thegreenfairy13 · 4 years

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A Mother’s Truth

A veeery belated birthday present for the incredible @mexican-texican. I do know you deserve better and I definitely fiddled waaaay too long with this fic. I’m sorry, dear! But I do love you! I hope you’ll like it <3.

Plot: Gertrud reflects upon her son’s rise to power, his infatuation with Jim, and her own delusions.

Read it here on Ao3. Or here:

Gertrud Kapelput is in denial. Nobody in their right mind would argue on that. Not even Gertrud - if she was in her right mind.

Sadly, or luckily for her, she left the shores of reason decades ago and set sail for the faraway land of delusion. It’s not like she had ever intentionally lied, she only liked to bend reality to her will. On some days, that would work out in her favor, on others, she would have to dive deeper into her own mind to achieve the intended goal.

So no, Gertrud wasn’t lying for her son Oswald when police showed up for the first of many times to follow. She was simply telling her very own truth. One that didn’t necessarily overlap with reality.

At this point, the frail woman is already used to being frowned upon. Despite the skeptical look on the agents’ faces, she opens her door widely, allows for them to step inside, and to judge the few belongings she managed to save over to this new life she’s living now. She shepherds those condescending officials into her living-room, pretends not to note how they wrinkle their noses at the cobwebs and the dust covering once invaluable furniture. If they only had the slightest idea what castle her decor had once graced, what family she belonged to, they wouldn’t….

Instead, Gertrud tilts her head, offers them coffee, and listens to them telling her lies about her beautiful son, Oswald Cobblepot, son of Gertrud Kapelput, grandson of Imre Kapelputh, Earl of a land long lost. She huffs out a laugh, a sound that only means to hide the offended, undignified noise she’d else make.

She smiles tightly as she gracefully motions for them to sit down, tunes out as they start making wild accusations how her clever, kind, compassionate, caring, precious boy is supposedly part of the mob, making his way ever so slowly up the ranks. Gertrud can’t suppress an unladylike sneer once they don’t let go of their delusions. She looks over at her boy’s photograph and shows them the door. Back home, that menial task would have been up to one of her valets, but here in America, she used to be a servant herself, a cook for a family who had only known what it means to be rich for three generations. If they had only had known the Kapelputs go back to the middle-ages!

Gertrud grits her teeth remembering how the Van-Dahl’s dismissed her, carrying the legitimate heir to lands and castles the family has no concept of beneath her heart. Despite her dire fate, Oswald had always been destined to become a King. But certainly not one of blood and terror. As if a delicate soul like his could….But then Kings come with a certain strength.

There is more to it than only rumors, things she can’t unsee even if she wants to. Gertrud would be blind not to note the bruises and hematomas covering her son’s face and chest. Her fingers tighten in her darling’s hair as she applies more shampoo, trying to wash away the horrors he must have gone through. She clings to him in a way only the truly lost and lonely cling to another human being. After all, he’s all she’s got left, isn’t he?

And he’s such a beautiful, beautiful boy, right? The women must be tripping all over themselves for a slight opportunity to bask in the sun that is her only son. It’s her greatest fear, that one day some painted hussy will waltz right in and snatch her boy away. As inexperienced as he is, she’d only take advantage of his good heart and leave it broken.

Her fingers stiffen when he suddenly turns to her, eyes shining brightly, and mentions some new friend . Gertrud purses her lips. She knows the look in her boy’s eyes, recognizes it immediately, as it mirrors the expression she used to wear on her own face almost 30 years ago perfectly. It’s the expression of a believer in front of an icon, the look of a person with faith in a greater being, in a savior.

Her heart almost stops when he reveals the one to have stolen his heart to be a cop. It’s the worst scenario, even worse than him running off with a greedy whore. “Don’t ever trust a cop,” she mumbles as she gently lets warm water run over her child’s head. Once upon a time, it had been a corrupt cop who had dragged her from her home, pregnant, and penniless. “They are bad news,” she adds, and her kid hums in agreement, unconvinced.

She thinks about the agents visiting her mere days ago, stares at a fresh bruise covering his back, and tries imagining her boy being what they claim him to be. It’s a lie, of course, it is, has to be, yet if there’s even a slight chance, the cop is toying with her darling’s heart and life.

“He’s different than the others,” her Oswald adds, finally calming Gertrud’s racing nerves. If her boy, a boy so different from all the others, so special, so unique, says so, the cop must be. After all, wouldn’t Oswald be able to recognize one of his own? Sighing deeply, she accepts how unlikely it will be for her to ever have grandchildren carrying Oswald’s features.

One week later, she can’t find it in herself to look away any longer. Gertrud demands an explanation for the ever-increasing bruises littering Oswald’s delicate skin, for the awkward gait, the pained expression on his face whenever he as much as takes a hesitant step.

She’s appalled at those dots of black, blue, and green, can’t help but trace the outlines of the wounds covering her child’s body, doesn’t even dare to ask what those finely-knitted trousers he all of a sudden is able to afford might hide. Oswald merely smiles in response with an expression so forced it looks painted on.

“I joined a boxing club,” he explains easily, and Gertrud raises an eyebrow at her son. She can’t recall her Oswald, this slender, elegant figure, ever being interested in such barbarous activities.

Frowning worriedly, she takes Oswald up on his offer to introduce his new friends to her.

“Mother, as the owner of Gotham’s most famous nightclub, I need to be able to defend myself. As you are well aware, we’re unable to hide our successes from jealous eyes in a city like this.”

Gertrud’s face lights up. How she could have ever doubted her son is beyond her. Of course, Oswald’s words make perfect sense.

“Please, mother, allow for me to dissipate your concerns,” he tells her, head cocked to the side, looking just as innocently as he had on the day he informed her he had gotten a scholarship and she wouldn’t need to work double-shifts any longer to pay off his school fees. It had been unheard of until this moment, a fourteen-year-old receiving the Wayne-aid for gifted pupils, but her Oswald had always been remarkable. Of course, they had to be hush-hush about it, refused to honor him during an official ceremony, but it had undoubtedly lifted a great weight off both their shoulders.

Gertrud nods in return and decides to surprise her boy the other day. The party greeting her once she places a basket filled with various treats from her home-country is nothing like she would have expected. Those men are nothing like her Oswald, not well-behaved, for sure not nobility. One of them flashes a smile at her, a golden tooth shines in the dim light, and Gertrud’s frown increases. Another one gets up, offering her a stiff bow, while her son fidgets worriedly behind him.

“Mother, this is Mr. Gilzean,” he explains, clearly nervous. The bulky man grins encouragingly while taking the basket from her hands. He looks at the wonderful supplies and trips all over himself to express his gratitude. Gertrud falls silent, tries to make sense of the other figures occupying the room, and wipes her worries away once more. She can’t help admonishing them just a bit though when she decides her eyes practically hurt from all that heavy gold those men decided to wear around their necks and in their mouths.

“It isn’t dignified to put your wealth on the table as you are, gentlemen,” she tells them while the one being introduced as Gilzean offers her a glass of champagne.”

“This is America, mother,” Oswald replies gently as the other men look somewhat sheepishly at her.

Her boy’s words are almost enough to dissipate her worries again. Almost . She decides to keep an eye at his contacts and starts visiting Oswald’s club regularly. After all, it’s a beautiful place, her son is a wonderful host, she’s being treated like the royalty she is, and she’s allowed to sing again.

The men, Oswald’s ‘friends’, clap politely whenever she enters the stage, and encourage her to keep going. The traitorous voices in the back of her head keep telling her they are simply being polite, or thankful for the food she keeps bringing. But then one evening one of those cumbersome men walks up to her, tears in his eyes, tells her how thankful he is that she keeps looking out for them. Crossing himself, he stares up her, awe written clearly all over his face, and vows to protect her with his own life. “You have become a mother to all of us,” he confesses. “Us Italians honor a mother,” he adds, refilling her glass.

Gertrud smiles benevolently, but her boy gives her reason to worry again when the infamous cop shows up at the club. The man named Jim is stern. His shoulders are straight, his jaw is set tight, and her boy seems nervous whenever he is around. Oswald pulls him into a corner, whispers something into his ear, and gestures at her. Gertrud is irritated. Nobody has the right to force such a reaction from her Oswald!

For a moment, the blonde man looks confused, and then, his shoulders sag. He puts on a smile, even if only forced, and bows for Gertrud just like the rest of his men. She doesn’t know what his visit is about, but she knows when a man bends to the will of another. His tone is reserved yet respectful when addressing her, the tone of a man trying to make a good impression. She studies him intently and decides he’s not the worst company for her son. Solid. Simply, but well dressed. Not a painted whore.

Gertrud bites her lip though when his body language changes again, when he cages her Oswald against a wall. Her eyes narrow when witnessing the way he keeps manhandling her boy but she also sees other things. She notes he’s always standing a tad bit too close to her Oswald, even when they are not talking, how their bodies are almost constantly being angled toward each other. She observes the blonde grabbing Oswald’s wrist, how he bites his lip when doing so, and the genuine worry he tries to hide. The way the blonde touches her boy is forceful, yet protective, indecisive.

Stepping closer, she wants to say something but then changes her mind as Oswald locks eyes with her. “This is not what you think, mother,” he’ll tell her later, and she’ll indulge him. She’ll always indulge him.

The next time Gertrud visits the club, she tries to see the place with the cop’s eyes. The man, Jim, he has clear eyes, the kind of eyes that see everything while hers are almost constantly glossed over.

She spots a new figure, a man with black hair who obviously has no concept of buttoning his shirts properly. Putting on her biggest smile, she saunters over, toys with her hair, and leans over the table, shoving up her cleavage in the process like a common hussy. The moment she lays eyes on that man, Sal Maroni, Gertrud is worried about her son and starts flirting as if her boy’s life depends on it. And then she notes the deep, genuine fear etched into her Oswald’s features. She doesn’t want to ask, and she knows he wouldn’t want to answer, so she accepts another glass and curls her hair around her finger.

The fear eventually fades from her beautiful son’s face as does the man she once met. What remains, though, is him constantly mentioning the name Jim. At times, the name is spoken in awe, at times it’s spoken in disdain. Gertrud sees him on the TV sometimes, righteousness and determination written all over his features, and she repeats to her boy how the man will be bad news one day. Oswald shrugs her off but she catches his wrist. “My boy,” she tells him. “My love for you is blind but it also derives from devotion. Does that go for him, too?”

Oswald sputters, clearly flustered, and doesn’t reply. Once he finds his voice again, Gertrud is already busy recalling the lyrics of a song she learned when she was little.

Mere weeks later, Gertrud’s devotion is being put to the test when another one of Oswald’s acquaintances kidnaps her and forces her into a tiny cell. She scoffs when they truly think her dingy surroundings will intimidate her. She notes the camera in the corner, starts pacing the room. Of course, she’s afraid. And she’s angry. She keeps banging at the walls, yelling out to anyone who might hear her how this must all be a terrible mistake, how she’s merely the mother of a well-respected club-owner. Nothing that could happen would convince her in any way that this isn’t the truth. And now the world has proof of her conviction, too.

Her misery ends, eventually, when her Oswald shows up, an entire army in tow. Her eyes light up then when she recognizes how he really grew into the king she always knew him to be. But the snake, Galavan they call him, is sly, and it almost ends in blood and tears - but almost.

The reinforcement arrives just in time, and Gertrud can’t help but flinch and curl in on herself when a single shot echoes through the basement she had been kept in way too long. There are blood and cerebral matter now covering her face. A beautiful woman with long, black hair is staring lifelessly at the ceiling while her son and the other man start shouting.

Oswald is completely out of his mind, wants to lunge forward, knife already in hand, when a heavy hand reaches for him. It’s that cop again, Jim, grim and, unmoving as ever. He steadies her boy, grounds him with as much as a touch even when he behaves in a way she never witnessed before. This is definitely not her boy, this howling, bawling animal that consists only of pain and fear.

“She’s alive, Oswald,” the blonde growls as her son keeps forgetting himself. Gertrud reaches for her child herself, holds him close as he breaks down completely, and continues to shout out horrifying threats. He wants to escape her grasp, and she has no doubt his intentions are anything but pure when he turns towards Galavan again.

Stiff as ever, the cop merely ignores him as he cuffs Galavan, takes his price with him to another cell much like Gertrud’s.

He’ll later testify how her son, Oswald, tried to kill him. And Gertrud will face him in court, unable and unwilling to recall anything in detail. She’ll cry and argue. Where she’ll be emotional, the cop, Jim will remain bereft of emotion. With a straight face, he’ll tell his very own truth how he found Oswald and Gertrud huddled together, terrified of the man now being dragged away forever.

Gertrud will smile in relief then. When it comes to her Oswald, she now isn’t the only person with her very own truth.

#gertrud kapelput #gertrud & oswald #gobblepot #fanfiction

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years

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I Can See My Kingdom Now

Read on Ao3!

Chapter 1: Arcadia’s Lost Boy

Word Count: 7,750

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Deceit. (There will be Emile and Remy in one chapter)

Pairing(s): Eventual Logicality and Prinxiety. (hints to Royality, they’re forced into an arranged marriage)

Warnings for this chapter: Mention of blood and bruises, Asthma attack,(nothing really heavy, but I decided to warn you anyway.)

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a kingdom which rose above all others thanks to its everlasting prosperity. Of course, there had been outer conflicts, but there wasn't a citizen who wouldn't say they were pretty content with the life they were conducting. It was called "the kingdom of Arcadia" and it was praised by foreigners because of how it resembled a constant Golden Age. Many had tried before to learn the secret to reach wealth and accomplishment. But the truth was that in order to understand and obtain peace, you initially have to first-hand witness and experience the worst of misfortunes. The royalty had intimated the whole people to never spread a word about the mishap out of the walls of Arcadia. It had shaken their inner tranquility so much they refused to talk about it publicly, it quickly became a taboo. Along with dark magic, since it was linked to the tragic story they had gotten themselves into. So sit back now and listen carefully to the tale I'm about to tell because this is the story of Arcadia and its long lost prince.

A/N: I decided to post it on here too instead of only ao3, so here it is! Won’t be saying much except that the summary is literally the first part of the fic so everything is under the cut. Enjoy!

✾

❝ I am a lost boy from Neverland Usually hanging out with Peter Pan And when we're bored we play in the woods Always on the run from Captain Hook "Run, run, lost boy," they say to me Away from all of reality. ❞

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom which rose above all others thanks to its everlasting prosperity. Of course, there had been outer conflicts, but there wasn't a citizen who wouldn't say they were pretty content with the life they were conducting.

It was called "the kingdom of Arcadia" and it was praised by foreigners because of how it resembled a constant Golden Age. Many had tried before to learn the secret to reach wealth and accomplishment.

But the truth was that in order to understand and obtain peace, you initially have to first-hand witness and experience the worst of misfortunes. The royalty had intimated the whole people to never spread a word about the mishap out of the walls of Arcadia.

It had shaken their inner tranquility so much they refused to talk about it publicly, it quickly became a taboo. Along with dark magic, since it was linked to the tragic story they had gotten themselves into.

So sit back now and listen carefully to the tale I'm about to tell because this is the story of Arcadia and its long lost prince.

✾ ✾ ✾

You need to know that there were many little villages, every so often nameless ones, at the furthest corners of the kingdom. One of these was peculiar for the gorgeous and almost mystical forests that it presented, it was completely surrounded by green spots and only the center was inhabited by a modest group of families. There weren't many citizens, but it was big enough to host a school and an orphanage. The people who lived there didn't have the brightest or loudest of careers, but they were fine in their own quiet place, everybody knew each other and harmony ruled over them. It looked unnatural. It was as if the idyllic locus amoenus that was part of the ancient bucolic poetry came to life.

And who wouldn't be more eager to play in these natural parks than little kids? Or maybe two particular little kids, characterized by their adventurous behavior and childlike audacity, which let them feel able to face any threat the woods had to offer.

Especially Raegan, who was the brightest of the two: Raegan was a seven-year-old boy with a desire to just live the world, he was part of the local orphanage and didn't recall who his parents were. The weird thing was that neither did the orphanage runners: the adults only remembered this three-year-old kid wandering around the town, in simple white robes, the boy's face was stained with dirty spots and some minor wounds and scratches. They had thought he got lost and hurt in the forest, but none claimed to know him. That's why they took him in and cared for him, gave him a name and waited for his parents to manifest. But nobody came.

Orphans weren't really treated any differently than kids in families, they were part of a big family themselves, they went to a regular public school and played together with the other children, so they were merged into a big crowd of small people. They would make friends and meet up at these friends' houses, maybe even have meals there.

Here Raegan met a little Virgil Mòros, the typical shy kid who didn't know how to approach other children. Their friendship started off with small talks and those that you could call adjustments to one another. Raegan watched him play with toys on his own, while he preferred running around, racing other kids, any physical movement was enough for him to get excited, really. It was an epiphany for him when they found out a ball to play with.

Their first conversations were mostly like:

"Do you want to play with us over there?"

"No, it's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I don't want to."

"Alright."

Then it became more like: "We're trying to set up a new game, wanna join?" but the answers were always different versions of "no". Raegan was a bit perplexed as to he didn't understand how he could make the kid open up, but little did he know that one day he'd have an idea that would lead them to become the closest of friends.

Raegan had come up to him and sit down in front of him, getting his attention.

"Hey! Can I play with you?" Virgil had looked at him for a split second, then a faint smile had crossed his lips, he had then proceeded to hand him a bunch of his toys, that were some little animals, and a couple of human-like figures.

"Sure."

"How do we play?"

"I usually make up stories to put my toys in."

Raegan's face had lit up so much that moment, he hadn't really ever thought of doing that, who knew how fun it would be!

"That's so cool! You're Virgil, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm Raegan! And I'd love it if I could please make up the story this time?", he had put his hands together in a pleading act. Virgil couldn't help but nod at him.

"Of course, there's no problem."

Raegan had presented the brightest of smiles and he took up a bunch of toys; the story was about the two of them being part of the Royal Guard, they were the true mighty heroes who were the only hope against the infamous Dragon Witch.

Virgil had been more than amazed at the creativity of his new playfellow, which had made him pretty happy to play with the boy in the first place, not to mention that he was having the most fun he ever had compared to when he was by himself. When he was alone he'd just stay sit in that one spot; on the other hand, Raegan used his dinosaur toy to pretend it could fly around the playground, so the two had to follow it around, sometimes even run to "catch up" with it.

So as Raegan had entered his bubble, Virgil was slowly adapting to the other's personality. After that day they quickly became inseparable, they even met up multiple times out of school: this is where they started to explore bit by bit the forest next to Virgil's home and found out other ways to play.

In fact, they stopped using toys and started doing actual make-believe, sometimes they even dressed up for the different occasions they had to perform. They would walk around and pretend to have other identities, to be in faraway places, to live in castles or palaces. Raegan's favorite role to play was the knight: he would pick up any long enough stick and use it as his "perfectly manicured sword", any flying animal would be one of his mortal enemies he had to protect Virgil from, who every time claimed to be "actually able to stand for himself, thank you very much." but with a smile on his face.

One day they'd be alone against the world, the other they'd be against each other, the other one they would just practice sword fighting together. It was fun, it was different, they eventually ended up all dirty and tired from all the fictitious traveling.

But they were best friends, that was all that counted. True, until they reached their tenth birthday.

✾ ✾ ✾

When Raegan and Virgil were busy being ten-year-old kids, two other boys were busy being teenage messes. But oh, you first need to know about Arcadia's fellow kingdom, Tinfea. Its royal family had been a great hand for Arcadia's king and queen: apart from being of help to rise up again after the attempt to overthrow Arcadia's government, they also offered to intervene in the search for their missing child.

The two families were close, first of all, the Tinfea sovereigns lent their seer's abilities to see into the future and locate the lost boy: his name was Logan Diànoia and had had the power of magic in his veins ever since he was born. His parents had died in ... particular circumstances and the sovereigns decided to take him in and provide him with both regular and magic lessons even if he was little. He had always had quite a passion for learning, his curiosity also benefited him in expanding his knowledge and mind. Not that you would only find him in his chambers or in the library constantly studying, well mostly, but he was also a good friend of the royalty's only child, Patton Pàis.

There were many times in which nobles would meet up with the Royals and bring their kids to play with Patton, but most of the time he'd be alone, so Logan was enough for him to be of good company. They ended up having lessons together, sometimes Logan would even teach or lecture him; Patton found his way of speaking pretty funny, he sounded like an old cultured man in the body of a child. Despite being opposed to a lot of entertaining activities, the seer didn't really stop the prince from having fun: he would just watch over him and prevent him from getting hurt, though it had happened that Patton had played tricks on him to let him have some fun for once too. Like that one time he made Logan chase him when he actually wanted to play tag. Then Patton would smirk at his out of breath friend, realization would hit Logan and he'd just smile and say "You sly little kid."

"You're a kid too, Logan ..."

"Regardless."

There were also quiet moments in which they would lay on the grass and look at the sky, and the little prince was more than happy to stay silent and listen to his friend's voice that traveled through different flows of thought, to the point he would somehow start philosophizing. He always sounded passionate during these moments and appreciated Patton for listening every time.

Logan was fourteen when he was busy being a teenage mess, staying up late to find ways of helping the kingdom of Arcadia, catching some innocent animals to practice his spells on, feeling bad when he failed at them and always pushing himself to the limit. He was consulting an enormous spells book, being a medium-level mage by then, to find an exact way to track the prince of Arcadia when a thirteen-year-old Patton knocked on his door.

It was fairly late at night, so Logan found himself surprised to see him awake.

« I wasn't expecting you here, Patton. » his affirmation sounded more like a question to himself.

The shorter boy showed a quick smile only to look down right after, he seemed kind of gloomy.

« Yeah, I wasn't either. » his voice like a whisper.

Logan arched an eyebrow, his body was aching with worry. « Are you feeling quite alright? Please, sit down. »

The only words that escaped Patton's mouth were "No, it's-" as the seer led him to his desk and then proceeded to stand right in front of him. He honestly had to cover up how glad he was to see him- wait, what was he thinking?

« Thank you, Lo, but I just ... wanted to ask you something. »

Oh, boy.

« Go ahead. »

« Well, you know how we've been friends since we were little? »

What is this feeling?

« Yes, what are you implying? »

« Uh, you know I've never asked you anything and respected your magic? »

Oh. Logan was taken aback because of where the conversation was going. Or was that disappointment in his face?

« Please, be clear, what is it that you need? » Patton started fidgeting and wasn't really able to look at him in the eyes.

« I ... I need you to cast a spell on me. »

« What? » Logan lost at words? This sure was something.

« Listen, I have good reasons- »

« Patton, I am not a full magician yet, who knows what could happen! Plus you do not need any kind of magic, if it is an excuse you're looking for to escape some sort of lecture, then I shall help in different ways. »

He stopped when he noticed his friend looking up at him and giving him a sad smile, so he walked up to him slowly, staring at him, a sense of dread forming in his stomach. His look just screamed "What's going on?".

« It's different this time. » Patton took a deep breath, picking at the chair's wood, too anxious to talk any longer than that.

« I haven't been of help at all with this lost prince thing ... My family is supposed to look for him in the first place, but ... I can't do anything for them, I feel kind of ... useless. » if his voice was breaking, then Logan's emotions were shattering upon hearing his closest friend say such severe words.

« What ... are you talking about? » Logan sounded almost hurt, why would he belittle himself like that? But most importantly, how long had he been thinking about this? And why didn't he tell him sooner?

« Logan, you can see it too, I'm not contributing to anything- »

« You're only thirteen- »

« -which is why » Patton marked that last word to grab his attention « I was thinking: if I were able to draw somewhere the image you pictured in your head of the prince's face, then maybe it would be easier for them to see it and for us to look for him, wouldn't it? »

The seer just sighed « Your point? »

« I'd like you to find a spell that would give me the skills to do that. » Patton spoke these words so firmly that Logan thought he was talking to his father instead.

« You want drawing skills. » Patton simply nodded, serious in the eyes « So that I can project into your mind the prince's exact looks and you can represent it on paper to help Arcadia's king and queen. » another nod.

Logan was about to yell at him for how stupid that sounded, tell him that he didn't have to prove himself to anyone in order for them to love him or judge his worth, that he didn't have to do this at all, that he should instead tell him why he was feeling so wrong, but every thought died in his head. He wanted to be a good friend, but little did he know he was about to be the most selfish one.

The older one took too long to respond, so Patton's hope was fading away bit by bit and his face started falling, and Logan just couldn't bear to see him like that, he felt responsible for his friend's happiness at this point. He wouldn't let him down now, would he?

He wasn't really one of those touchy people, but he found himself making his way toward the boy and placing a hand on his shoulder, « I just ... don't want to hurt you. » he wore a concerned expression that the prince couldn't help but understand. Of course he was scared, he had never practiced his magic on humans before, he didn't find it quite correct.

Patton smiled then settled his own hand on the other's arm « I know. But I trust you, that's why I came to you! »

« I'm not sure this is a good idea, though. »

« You should be more conscious of your own abilities, Logan. » he then presented a smirk and leaned in, as if he were up to tell a secret. « Aren't you in fact the best and youngest mage in the whole kingdom? »

A grin crept on the seer's face « I have still to reach perfection. » he admitted, stepping away from the boy a couple of paces. They shared a look, then Logan gave in and faced the multiple books on his bed and started to go through their index.

« I'll see what I can do. »

Patton lit up immediately and basically ran to hug him tight and thank him over and over again, in the meantime Logan froze and stopped working for as long as the boy held him in his arms. Damn him and his powers over him.

But most importantly, damn feelings.

He spent half an hour looking at different Latin names and descriptions that never exactly matched what he was looking for, the prince in the meantime had peacefully fallen asleep on the desk. Finally, two spells got his attention: one simply gave any skill you wished for that lasted a week from the moment in which it was cast, the other would give you an everlasting perfect ability, but you had to pay the price.

Of course it was death, specifically, the cursed person would be dying the day before their wedding at 23:59. Wedding. Logan suddenly remembered the most logical thing that was going to happen if the Pàis family was going to be the one finding the prince of Arcadia, that is Patton was going to obviously get married with this boy once he'd reached adult age.

Something hit his heart real hard as realization set into him, he felt paranoia eat his mind away; he had to just admit it to himself, the only problem with him was that he had been crushing on Patton for quite a while now.

So there was a voice in his head.

Logan was a fourteen-year-old boy who still didn't have enough common sense to understand right and wrong, he was just a servant with little to no other job than to provide the sovereigns with information. He never did anything wrong, but there was always a first time. The voice in his head was just too loud, screaming "if you can't have him, then none else would". He didn't mean to do such a mess, he still didn't know where that was going to go.

« Fine! » he shouted at himself, slamming his hands on the book, the sudden movement woke Patton up in an instant. He looked up at Logan, curiosity in his eyes. « Did you find anything? » he asked followed by a yawn.

« Yeah but ... » he looked at the angelic little princely face, « ... there's only one. And it's dangerous. » how could he do this?

« What for? »

Logan started explaining, but he regretted his decision as he was talking about his inevitable death. Maybe that part would scare him enough to just let it go. Maybe another prince or princess would find the boy and he could still have some kind of chance, maybe-

« Do it. »

« I apologize, what did you just say? »

« Do it. » Patton ordered firmly, a serious look on his face to mark how determined he was about it.

« You want me to place a curse on yourself. »

« If it's the only way then so be it. I don't care, I'll have eight years to prepare for the inevitable day. » he sounded insecure about that one last bit, but it looked like he wasn't going to back down any sooner.

Logan was just whispering "I can't let you do this." when he was cut off by Patton's « And besides, death will eventually come for me anyway. » he laughed it off in a vain attempt to lighten up the mood.

« I don't think I can- »

« Please. » Patton put his hand on Logan's « Do it for me, okay? »

God damn it.

And there he was, giving up to his longtime friend yet again. He couldn't believe he was actually placing a curse upon the prince of Tinfea. His best friend. The one he lo- cared about.

To make him feel better about himself.

Some disturbing red lights began floating around the room, Logan's eyes darkened until every spot of his pupils was pitch black, he raised his hand toward the boy in front of him and drew a sharp symbol into the air, he then proceeded to recite the Latin formula, he pointed his finger to the symbol which flew against Patton and hit him hard, causing him to shield his face with his arms. And just like that, everything was back to normal.

Logan was breathing heavily and Patton felt definitely shaken from what he had just seen, he looked up at his friend and worried instantly for him; he let him sit down and catch his breath for a couple of minutes, providing him with some water to support him. How much of his energy did that thing take away from him?

« How about you try it out? Let's see if it worked? »

« Uh, sure. » Patton stepped away with uncertainty and took some paper and ink, he locked eyes with a particular weirdly shaped object of the room and started drawing it from reference. After some minutes he had already finished and was shocked at how well and detailed it turned out, he showed it to Logan excitedly and started jumping around from happiness.

But the whole deal wasn't yet done. « Are you okay to let me see his face or ...? »

« I can handle it, I'm fine. »

Logan made him sit right across him, then he stared into his eyes, focused, and thought about just putting his knowledge into the other's head; it was when Patton's eyes widened that he realized he had actually succeeded. Patton started drawing immediately, concentration stuck in his expression. It didn't take him long to be done with it.

Logan looked down at the picture and almost fell out of his chair.

« It's ... » Patton listened to him carefully « ... exactly what I have seen. Patton, it is ... perfect. »

✾ ✾ ✾

The day it happened Virgil and Raegan decided to visit the forest early in the morning so they could have enough time to play before the inevitable appearance of the royalty of Arcadia: after they found out the appearances of their missing child, they started traveling the whole kingdom in order to find him at all costs. They said they made 10-year-old kids line up and get compared to a certain picture, so that was what was going to happen to Virgil and Raegan too, but first, they had to get cleaned, dressed in the best robes they had, boring stuff that would take up too much of their precious acting time. That's why they went there earlier than ever.

It was a pleasant and clear spring day, they noticed the multiple flowers that had been growing while they pretended to be pirates in the latest weeks, they also saw more birds flying around out of their nests and making pleasant sounds as they battered their wings.

They changed the storyline of their make-believe for that special occasion in which they brought with them their wooden swords fabricated by the local woodworker that had taken a liking into them because of their passion for nature. Raegan was leading the way as a gentle breeze flew through his little red cape, which was actually only an old ripped shirt of Virgil's father. He followed the path they had learned by heart, which led to a clear pond that they had always seen frozen during winter. A couple of waterlilies were lying gently on the surface of the water. The place looked magical.

Raegan looked back at his companion, then stretched out his arm to him « Here take my hand. »

« I thought I was your knight, not a damsel in distress. »

The orphan boy rolled his eyes but smirked at the remark « We have to do your investiture first. Come along, young man. »

Virgil took his hand anyway and let him help down the little steep hill that separated them from the pond. They walked up to it, then Raegan turned to his friend smiling, the light of the sun hitting the back of his head, which gave his already messy hair a goldish brown color.

They imagined they were in a castle's throne room full of festooning of red and gold hanging from different areas of the Great Hall, the whole kingdom present, breaths held as they waited for their prince to speak, they were hanging on his future words.

Virgil bowed down his head, placing his left knee on the ground and bending his right one, he then placed his right hand on it, while his wooden sword was laying on the ground not too far off from him.

« Virgil Mòros. » Raegan looked down at him with a solemn expression, he raised his sword and lightly placed its blade first on one and then on the other shoulder, while he was speaking the words « I, prince Raegan, hereby declare you as my first personal knight and head of the Royal Guard. »

The golden eyed boy took off his cape and draped it across Virgil's shoulders. Virgil stood up after that and all he could say was « "Hereby declare"? How do you even know what that means? »

Raegan gave him an annoyed look « Soft you, now! I just gave you a title, behave. », then he walked off somewhere imprecise and left Virgil wondering what kind of books he read at the orphanage. It wasn't the first time he said weird lines and wouldn't even know what they meant exactly. It was as if he just knew the right context.

Virgil was forced to snap out of his thoughts when an impossibly fast animal ran past them and stopped thirty meters away from them, keeping a fierce stance; it looked like it was smirking at them from afar. The creature that was staring at them showed off its orangish-red and white fur glowing under the sun, it appeared to be quite a mystical form with those shining yellow irises that kinda matched Raegan's. He was, in fact, the one struck by its charm, how could a simple fox like that appear so majestic? He felt like he wanted to be like it too. Small, but important.

The fox took a few steps towards the boys, it didn't seem like it wanted to be friendly, more like to challenge them, chin up and mischievous gaze. The two friends shared a look.

« It clearly wants us to approach. »

« I don't think it is a good idea. »

« Then what do you suggest, my fellow knight? » Raegan turned to his best friend with a radiant smile, keeping up their make-believe.

« Maybe we should take some steps forward too? »

« So we'd be safe if it wants to attack us or we won't scare it away quickly? » Virgil simply nodded.

« Smart thinking. Then I shall face it. » his tone sounded so dramatic he could hear Virgil roll his eyes from behind him. He took a step forward, but before his foot could touch the ground again the animal was already sprinting away, causing Raegan to immediately run after it and, of course, the other villager couldn't help but follow them. Who knows where the fox would lead them? A whole new world to explore? Would they find new roles to play? Or maybe it was taking them to its own home, trusting them enough to let them into the forest's unseen.

But the chase had been going on for quite a while, the animal wasn't giving any sign of slowing down and Virgil felt like he was experiencing the whole forest over again at maximum speed, he couldn't even remember where they had left or how long would it take to go back home. Raegan's rapture, on the other hand, made him able to keep up with the fox, and easily avoid any obstacle, it was his determination that was giving him the energy to run as fast as he possibly could and enough breath to jump every other meter.

Why was following that animal so tempting? Raegan felt like he couldn't stop though he didn't quite acknowledge the reason why, there was something fascinating about it, but other than that he felt like he was being pulled. He wasn't aware he was only going to find trouble: Virgil wasn't used to running this much.

« Hey. Prince? » no response.

Virgil wasn't able to catch his breath, his heart beating too fast. « Ra- Raegan? »

He wasn't listening.

He was about to call him again when he gasped for air and before he could do anything else he found himself losing balance and falling face down onto the ground with a loud thud. He had tripped over something he couldn't yet comprehend, his head lightly hit the ground and was now covered in dirt and some green from the grass around the spot he dropped his whole body into. Raegan turned instantly and his eyes widened at the sight, causing him to stop and tripping over his own feet, not used to the sudden stop.

He caught himself and glanced over to his right where the fox was now long gone, knowing he will hardly ever see it again; he wanted to rush over to his friend but he felt his limbs as heavy as his breath. He felt as if everything was moving in slow motion around him, the weight of his body too excessive to bear. He looked like a zombie as he was hardly taking steps.

Virgil in the meantime had been able to push himself up on his hands, despite the skin on his palms was burning with blood and dirt, he looked up at Raegan with a pained expression as he slowly got to his knees to check on Virgil.

Somehow the fallen boy still hadn't caught his breath, which sometimes got mixed up with small coughs; Virgil thought this feeling was normal, he had never run that fast for that long, he had felt pain in his chest after running before. But this time it was worse than just simple pain, it felt as if his lungs were shrinking with every breath he took, even his heartbeat didn't hint to slow down at all, it only increased together with the speed of his breaths. He could no longer inhale, nor exhale through his nose. He was scared stiff.

« Virgil? » Raegan's concerned tone hardly reached his ears as he covered them in fear. « Virgil, what is happening? » of course there was no response. But Raegan either thought it was because he was too afraid to talk, or his state didn't let him talk. He tried to lock eyes with him, to see if somehow they could communicate, but little did he know that the boy in front of him was unable to talk and was panicking because he didn't know what he was going through. The only sound that went out of his mouth was the wheezing of his breathing becoming even more persistent as time passed and as anxiety grew into them.

Raegan reached for his friend as Virgil crouched down, embracing himself, arms almost touching his knees, frightened eyes wide open and anguish starting to swell up in his chest. He did not know what was going on, nor did he know how to stop, the only thing he was aware of was that he was quickly getting worse, he couldn't control his own breathing, he couldn't control his whole body, he felt miserable. He couldn't help his own self and he was just terrified. He felt like he was choking. This was it.

« Oh my goodness, Virgil! » Raegan did not realize what kind of situation he got them into, panic started to set into him too, but as a prince would do he reminded himself that in alarming situations he needed to stay calm for the both of them: he needed to find a solution, to act fast. He tried to grab his attention by calling his name multiple times, never getting a reaction.

So he attempted to concentrate all the composure in his voice « Hey, buddy, can you hear me? » and he didn't get a single response. Not a twitch of the hand in his direction, no sign with his head. Oh dear, this was bad and it was all his fault. He chocked back the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes because of the stress and the guilt. « I will help you move, okay? Bear with me, please. You'll be okay. » his voice cracked at the end of the sentence, which sounded more like a reassuring to himself than to the other. He was going to be okay, he was gonna do this, he knew he could. « I promise. »

First of all, Raegan slowly pushed his knees down, so Virgil could go back to his previous sitting position, then he lightly grabbed his wrists and proceeded to lower his arms, showing how his face had gone even paler and sweaty. He accompanied the arms down to his sides and then helped him sit up straight against the tree behind them. Raegan felt a sense of relief as he noticed Virgil's breathing starting to ease up, he now believed in both of them more than before, he was sure he had this. But of course, he wasn't quite there yet. The boy's chest was still visibly going up and down at non-regular speed.

Raegan paid attention not to touch him in any risky spot as he encouraged him to look at him in the eyes: that was the first time he had noticed how different the two irises were from one another, bronze and emerald bind together. He made sure Virgil was focused on him as he spoke. « I need you to try to follow me, okay? » even though there was still a tone of worry in his voice, for the first time he got a slight nod from the other kid « Good, we're going to slow it down. I need you to be patient and relaxed. »

He settled down right in front of him, fixing his gaze on Virgil's face. He mirrored the boy's movements and was able to coordinate their breathing; the first thing he did afterward was to inhale a tick slower, then he did the same thing while breathing out. He kept doing this until Virgil would match him, then he would slow down again and repeat the cycle till he was finally properly breathing again.

They sit there for a couple of minutes to ease up from all the tension that was brought by the previous circumstances, Virgil had closed his eyes while Raegan had gotten all cuddled up next to him, still on alert in case it happened again.

« I have no idea what that was. »

« It never happened before? »

« No. I don't like it. » Virgil knew it wasn't a normal response to some running around, even for someone who wasn't used to do that.

Silence fell between the two as they were both filled with the void of ignorance on the matter, not knowing if they had to worry that much or if they had to wait more. The innocence of two children.

It wasn't long until Raegan broke the peaceful moment.

« I'm sorry. » he looked down at his feet and felt the same guilt from earlier building up again, it was him that insisted on chasing after an incredibly agile animal, for a moment he didn't look back at his best friend, he felt wrong because he now believed his friend would think he didn't care. What if now he'd stop playing with him or spend time with him or-

« What for? »

« Uh? »

« You said you were sorry. Why? »

Raegan wasn't sure he had understood. « For clearly hurting you? Or scaring you to death? I don't even know where to start! » it was so obvious he failed to get why Virgil wasn't blaming him in the first place.

« You didn't know. I didn't know. Plus you helped me recover. » he turned to his sorry friend and gifted him with a reassuring smile, to which the other responded to the same way. « Now that I mention it, how did you know how to ...? » Virgil made some gestures as he did when he didn't know how to explain himself, which was kind of adorable.

« One of the children at the orphanage had been crying for half an hour one day and was unable to stop, so I saw one of my oldest brothers walk up to him and doing the same thing I did. » Virgil tilted his head while Raegan was staring at a fixed point in front of him, as if he was spacing out, then he displayed his best impression of a 17 year old that sounded more like an old man and pointed his finger at the tree ahead of them « And he told him to man up, boy, you got some dishes to clean! »

Both of them burst out laughing at that, as the impression was so good and yet so terrible it sounded perfect.

« Did he do the dishes then? »

« Nah, I had to do them. » Raegan sighed so profoundly at the memory he shook his head, that altogether caused Virgil to laugh even more.

The comfortable silence fell back on them after some more goofing around, memories flying in their minds of other events, but they chose not to revive them with spoken words.

Then they remembered as their gaze fell on Virgil's cape.

« What would you do if you were an actual prince? » Raegan was caught off guard by the other's question, but that surely was an interesting argument. Being part of the royalty in their minds meant being able to do anything, you'd have magicians at your side, the possibility of changing the rules whenever you wanted, what was there not to do?

« I'd probably order my whole kingdom to have desserts at every single meal. Anyone who'd get caught not eating cake would get arrested and executed in the main square. »

« Woah, drastic. »

« But there'll be cake hour ... »

« Cake hour. » Virgil repeated, amused at his friend's idea.

« Cake hour, Virgil. It's important. » Raegan warned him as if it was the first priority in their lives.

« Why don't we have a cake hour at school? »

« Now that's a nice question! »

Their cake discourse, sadly, was abruptly interrupted by the distant chime of bells: they looked at each other with a panicked expression, that was the sign that the royalty of Arcadia and Tinfea had arrived at their village and all the 10-year-old boys had to show up before them. And Raegan and Virgil were still in the forest, dirty and bruised. They were dirty, bruised and also late. They immediately got up and decided to walk with wide steps in order to be as fast as they could and to prevent the whole breathing issue to present again.

After Raegan had helped Virgil up, before he could do anything the little knight wrapped his arms around his friend, who was taken aback by the sudden hug, but didn't hesitate to return it immediately. Virgil murmured a soft “thank you”, still uneasy from before.

They filled their way to the center planning whichever lie they were gonna say once they got back: they were chased by a giant animal and got hurt, scared and had to hide away for a while. It wasn't like either of them was gonna be the prince they were looking for anyway, they were just two kids in a tiny village. It wouldn't have made any sense.

Or so Virgil thought.

✾ ✾ ✾

Patton felt another wave of excitement as he checked the new kids he had to examine from a distance; he held his drawing close, the tips of his fingers brushing lightly against the margins of the paper. He sensed the portrait of the lost prince nearly weighing against his chest. He took a deep breath as the king and queen received the last regards from the village's inhabitants, Logan at his side gave him a reassuring nod, despite being a tad nervous himself: he felt like he had already seen the place somehow, like it held some kind of familiar trait he couldn't quite put his finger on, it was frustrating.

They were about to begin when a couple of women and a man ran towards the group and made their way through the crowd of villagers that wanted to assist the scene. The woman that was dressed like an orphanage caretaker was the one to speak, deep worry in her words « Please accept our apologies, but two of our village's kids are missing, we have been looking for them anywhere but they can't be found! »

« Oh my, is that so? »

« Yes, » the man paced forward « one of them is my son, I believe they went into the woods and we are afraid they got lost, or worse ... » he refrained from ending his own sentence, the worst case scenario he didn't want to cross his mind.

They were about to ask for help when the king stared into the distance and pointed right behind the people in front of him « Could they be your children? »

Sighs of relief set onto everyone as the three villagers smiled, but soon after a look of horror painted their faces as the appearance of the two ashamed kids came into view: they saw the dirt, the spots, the rips, and the blood.

At the same time, one boy's mother yelled "Goodness gracious, Virgil!" while one of the orphans cried out "big brother!" as a couple of adults and Virgil's parents ran towards them.

The mother hugged his son fiercely, not caring about smearing her clothes with blood and the dirt on her child's clothes, while his father helped him to walk over to the sovereigns, Raegan on the other hand, looking better than his friend, received multiple scolds by the caretakers for being too careless.

After they had reached the crowd, Virgil and Raegan personally approached the royalty and bowed down to them in an apologetic manner, at which the two monarchs softened up enough for them to get closer and kneel down in front of them.

« Straighten up kids, you don't need to feel sorry, I would've probably done the same if I had been you. » the king snickered and did a quick wink at them.

The queen ruffled their hair with a sweet smile, she appeared so tender it didn't even feel real, all the social class boundaries were broken as her motherly instincts acted up.

Then she turned to Logan « Can you perchance heal these bad-looking wounds? »

The mage slightly bowed at them and walked up to the kids with a smug look on his face « I can do even better, madame. »

So the two Arcadian rulers stepped away and gave the boy his own space to practice the spell: Patton could see it was completely different from the curse he had placed on him.

This time the lights around him were light blue, almost white, he drew a sinuous symbol with no sharp edges, not like the one he had seen. Logan didn't have to pronounce any formula, instead, he duplicated the symbol and commanded it to fly up above the two boys; and just like that, the symbols started to lightly crumble in little particles that looked like stardust on them. Once it was finished they looked perfectly refreshed, fine clothes and clean faces, they looked like they didn't enter the forest at all.

Raegan and Virgil both stared at their hands, then at each other with astonished expressions and faint smiles.

But there was something else, the familiar sensation had strengthened upon seeing the two boys more clearly, upon having them so close in front of him ... could it be? He locked eyes first with the orphan, then with the other child, he examined their facial features so long silence fell into the place: the kids started feeling uncomfortable, did the spell do something weird to them? Were they going to turn into trolls? Still, Logan's apathetic gaze fixed on them didn't help them ease up.

The seer turned to the royalty after a careful study of the two « Patton, could you assist me for a moment? »

Something hit hard Virgil's heart. Wait, what? They were actually getting checked up? Or was this only protocol? Had they already gone through the other children? It couldn't possibly be one of them, Virgil was sure about who his parents were, and he was certain that Raegan ... well, he was his best friend, it's not like he'd turn out to be a prince and out of nowhere get ripped away from him. They were just village kids. He tried to repeat this sentence into his mind over and over again, trying to convince himself as panic rose back into him.

Patton had come closer with a warming smile that almost calmed Virgil completely down; he held out his drawing in front of him as he compared the picture first with Virgil, then with Raegan.

When his eyes widened. Logan understood immediately what was off about that place by the behavior of the prince of Tinfea.

Patton locked eyes in awe with Raegan, who somehow felt the need to straighten his posture, he felt like he was being judged by everyone. With the corner of his eyes, he could see his best friend's almost pained look.

He couldn't breathe when Patton turned his back to him to face the sovereigns.

Patton couldn't contain his smile. « Your majesty, » his solemn tone was the only thing filling the village's air, everybody was holding their breath. Raegan's heart skipped a beat.

« We found him. »

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