James Dylor's Story

Belle listened, silently watching James’ face, intent on understanding him. He seemed as though careful… like he was afraid he’d say something in the wrong way, or merely say the wrong thing. She could understand that fear. It lived in all Lykae, though she had heard stories of before Narek.. back when the Lykaes had had a king more in the sense of her father, or Bowen even, where the Lykae had lived peacefully, not in fear, and where the people had blossomed. They had been on top of the war back then, except then the king died, killed by a demon’s light-ball, and Narek took over. Then a huge amount of people had begun dying, and young men had become afraid of joining the guard, instead preferring the safety of farm-work or other things as such. And so, the Lykaes had swiftly started to lose the upper hand and the war had gone quiet for a while, no one able to beat anyone in a single battle. After that, power had shifted many times, and now things were quiet as everyone was still recuperating from the last big battle. Her father had almost died in that one.

As James spoke, Belle’s little heart ached more and more. She couldn’t imagine every not having her father’s love. He had even acknowledged her wish to choose her husband herself, as long as he was acceptable, of course. Her father was among her very best friends, and to not have that? Well, she didn’t even like to think of the prospect, so when James told her indirectly that he did not really want to be where he was, she wanted to hug him and take him far away from the king’s services. She couldn’t, though. No one could. James had a job, and it was one he could not ever get out of. Think, so spend an eternity serving Narek like that? She didn’t know what she could do to help him and as she saw him avert his his beautiful, blue eyes, she felt so helpless it almost physically hurt her. She no longer thought that talking to him, being there for him, would be enough to help. She doubted anything would, in truth, and it worried her.

She sighed softly, about to reply, when servants started entering the kitchen, expressions not only tired at this late hour, but scared as well. So the king was home – she had guessed as much when she had heard the front door open a little while ago, but had paid it no mind, hoping that Bowen would occupy the king. Evidently, that was not the case. Belle glanced at James when he stood up, looking like someone who was about to help. This caused her to frown slightly, getting up herself. Cooking wasn’t his job and he had enough stuff on his plate as it was – they guy needed to sleep. Badly. And in the morning she’d make sure he had a nice meal to keep the wheels going. At this particular moment, however, she was merely going to try and not let him exhaust himself further. So she sent him a little smile, before gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “James… bringing the king food is something everyone is capable of doing.” She said, looking around her at the flock of servants.

It made her smile slightly that no one had addressed her, until a female turned to her, her face suddenly shocked. “But my la-“ was all the servant girl got to say before Belle shot her up with a chastising look. One she executed to everyone in the room. The servant girl cleared her throat and glanced at James, before looking back at Belle. “Apologies,” was her only word as she turned around to finish up the sandwiches she’d been making. Belle smiled slightly at the girl, “oh that’s alright,” she said, sending James a confused look, like she had no idea what the girl had been on about. Man, was she a big, fat liar. Suddenly things weren’t so fun. She ignored the guilt in her heart, though and gazed at the door-way, starting to walk towards it. “Let’s go ask Lord Bowen whether more is needed from you specifically tonight, because if not… well, you should sleep. And don’t you dare help them make food. I’ll bet you they’ve slept far more than you have lately.” She said the words in a slightly teasing tone, like she wasn’t really serious, but a glint in her eyes was very sober, and her words were a bit pointed towards the servants, which served a few looks of surprise.

James Dylor

The young woman looked as if she was simply absorbing everything he said. It felt odd to have someone listening intently and exclusively to him. The look on her face was even sympathetic. James felt rather bad for carelessly dropping a part of his burden on her with his words, admittedly. But she felt like someone he could talk to. For a moment he had a bout of paranoia, his mind bringing up an unwanted correlation. In one of the human world books he'd read when he lived there and attended a human school was titled 1984. Within the curious book lay a similar notion between the main character, Winston, and his tormentor, whose name James couldn't recall. It had been much too long to remember the odd details, but for a moment right when her hand found his shoulder, he stiffened slightly, his blood spiking momentarily with fear based adrenaline. But he relaxed again, his mind calming almost as quickly as it had accelerated. he was just tired, she was obviously no kind of threat. She was worried about him after all, she'd helped his hands and now she was admonishing him gently for trying to help when he was overworked.

The boy's head pulled back slightly, as if he was trying to resist the fact, but then he gave up, rubbing his left eye with the back of his hand. One of the servants spoke to Belle, and the exchange left James slightly confused. But he brushed it off as more paranoia, or perhaps the stressed servant girl had slipped up or mistook Belle for someone of higher ranking. He'd think on it later, maybe. If his brain was still functioning properly. And with less random bouts of paranoia. He followed the blonde almost like a grudging puppy dog. "Yes." He uttered, more of an agreement to do as she said than an agreement to what she was saying. As they exited the kitchen, James sent a look back at the busy servants. It was ingrained in him to help, it had been from the first day. As the puny one, he'd always had to work harder, do more, and that was the primary reason to his now irritatingly constant urge to help with anything and everything he crossed paths with. It was a survival mechanism in a way. He barely had on think. being a servant required little thought anyway, and any means to streamline the process was adopted right off. Survival of the fittest and most efficient. Not exactly the model that human Darwin had in mind though. Much more violent and random. And tiring.

Another part of his urge to help came from the fact that none of the servants liked him. He was not only the lucky runt, but he was the lucky runt that upstaged him. No one was particularly jealous that he served the king, but they were irritated by the fact that he often did twice as much as they did, but in half as much time because he worked so diligently. it was a sibling jealousy in a way. 'Why can't you be more like James? He'd have had this done already, and he'd have polished the door handles too.' It was a brutal cycle of working harder and receiving less and less from the other servants. Sabotage attempts were rarely made though. Sabotage was a life or death matter. And who knew who else the king would get rid of if he was in a bad mood. It wouldn't just be him, James knew. So in a way the king was unwittingly saving his hide from the jealous servants. And he didn't' even have to go out of his way. Imagine that.

The blue eyes boy blinked, shaking his head slightly in a vain attempt to clear it. He blinked a couple times, which worked for his vision, then his eyes focused back on the blonde spot ahead of him. Belle. He couldn't decide what to think. The bout of paranoia had lessen his trust slightly, but then again, he knew that it was irrational. Of course, he'd managed to force her to walk slightly ahead of him instead of behind, as she had been doing before by progressively slowing his walking speed every time she settled herself into that position. He didn't give any pointed looks, but it seemed as if she soon got his message. James didn't like her walking behind him, and he wasn't going to let her do that. Anyway, he was exhausted and was having a slight difficulty remembering to focus on what was in front of his feet, and he was in no state to lead anyone anywhere.

Belle hadn’t missed the look of suspicious passing over James’ eyes, but she decided that if he found out, well, then he found out. There wasn’t really anything she could do about it, even if she really wanted him to see her as his equal. It made it much easier to just… talk to him, and for some reason Belle wanted that; to talk to him, get to know him, comfort him. It was quite odd, in reality, but he was just so different from every other Lykae male, perhaps he was technically only half Lykae, but that didn’t really matter, did it? The point of the matter was that she felt like she would be able to talk to James without being chastised for speaking too much or acting too manly. Women didn’t get to say much, and Belle had been taught precisely how to act around men, and it wasn’t hard with Lykaes because they all appeared more or less inaccessible; hard, big brutes who wanted women without wits. Someone with wide hips who could bare their children. Oh, and if she was able to keep her mouth shut? Even better.

Belle supposed that was why she liked James; she got to just be herself around him, something she’d only ever been able to around her books, and she wanted him to feel the same way about her. In a way that made it a real… friendship. Yes, a real friendship. She had plenty of ‘friends’ but no friend. She suspected James could become just that. She smiled at him, suddenly realizing that she was a little ahead of him and sent him a glance, frowning slightly, wondering how that had happened. She hadn’t changed her pace to her knowledge, which meant that he had changed his. Probably out of fatigue. It wasn’t like he’d want her to walk in front of him, was it? Could it be? She knew human women often walked ahead of men, and since James had, according to rumor, grown up entirely among humans, no Lykaes to teach him the ways of his people, maybe he didn’t mind? Her eyes widened slightly as she cocked her head and fell into step next to him, not behind, not ahead; simply next to, suddenly curious.

“Are you doing it on purpose? Slowing down?” She asked blatantly. Huh, that was weird, wasn’t it? Very unlike her usually so careful, courteous manner. She smiled up at him, a little shyly, feeling quite embarrassed at her own outburst. How her father would’ve been disappointed had he heard it. Fortunately he was out on some assignment; she didn’t know which, and she never asked. If she knew what he was doing, she would only worry more, and she hated to worry. It wasn’t very good pastime for her mind in all honesty. That was when they reached Bowen’s rooms, of which there were several. Belle scanned the place and cocked her head, wondering where he would be. Livingroom? Bedroom? Bathroom? Bedroom, she then decided. Probably with his servant girl, Amy. He’d brought her from the castle back home because well… let’s just say Belle wasn’t supposed to know that stuff. She had grown pretty good at disappearing in shadows, though, listening in on conversations. She was the curious sort in that manner. “Hmm,” she murmured, taking a few steps, bringing her to Bowen’s door. She knocked softly.

It wasn’t Bowe who opened though, but his beautiful servant. Amy smiled at Belle, “yes?” was her only word. Belle smiled slightly, suspecting that Bowen had told her of the ‘idea’ he’d had. The blonde girl’s blue eyes found the eyes of the taller servant and informed her of the situation, guessing that Bowen wasn’t in the mood for company, except for Amy’s… but that was a certain kind, judging by the fact that the woman was only wearing a thin silk robe right now. Amy closed the door and opened it once more after a short moment to tell them that Bowen had said that James should get some sleep before Narek woke up tomorrow, cranky as ever. Belle chuckled slightly, thanked Amy and then looked to James. She had been in the lead in this situation, but that wasn’t unusual among servants really. Besides, Belle had been talking to another woman which was perfectly alright according to etiquette. Perhaps that was why Bowen had chosen to let the woman answer the door. Ah, Belle would get a headache if she tried to figure Bowe out. He was always three steps ahead.

“Seems like you can go to bed,” she said, smiling at him like it was the greatest new of all; her voice was of the same nature.

James Dylor

Blue eyes flicked up when the young woman spoke, and a smile flashed across his features for a moment. "Yes." He asked, equally as blunt. She was loosening from the demure act that women had to put on, he noted. He appreciated that. Admittedly he couldn't stand quite a few of the antiquated mannerisms of the women in this place, these kinds of rules in the human world had been done away with already, and for a good reason. Women were just as bright as males were, and sometimes they were even brighter. Honestly, James sometimes wondered what the kingdom would be like if it had been ruled by a woman, some one like the human ruler, Queen Elizabeth. Someone who knew what she was doing, with an even temper and a sharp wit. He had not reason and no one to vocalize his wondering to though, so they didn't really matter. to speak of such things would be treasonous anyway, so it was for the best.

She had fallen into step beside him, and he urged his pace forward slowly to match hers. That was better. He offered another half smile to the young woman as they reached Bowen's quarters. He stood away slightly, allowing Belle to deal with whatever it was she was going to do as she knocked on the door. He stared at the ground, his hands clasped behind him. He rocked back and forth slightly to keep himself alert, even though it wasn't the best of habit's to get into. Looking antsy or restless wasn't a good thing in this place. Servant 101.

As she spoke with the woman who'd opened Bowen's door James stared fixedly at the ground. He was worrying the bindings on his hands again, wringing his hands behind his back. he couldn't help it. He was one of those who needed something to do with his hands. He craved activity. Okay, not the level of activity that he was currently performing for the king, but mild amounts of activity were fine. Enough to make him pleasantly sore. Like when he lived in the human world he participated in sports like Track and Field, in which he could run and throw things to his heart content. He'd been stronger than many of the humans, even though he was very weak to Lykae standards. Humans were like little toothpicks in comparison to the average Lykae. And his determination helped as well. Even in the human world, before he'd had obligations he'd worked harder and faster than the others. It was just part of who he was, he guessed. Of course, he'd had more fun in the human world. He was more accepted even though he moved around quite a bit. Here he just stayed in the same situation and slowly fell into deeper pit of dislike from everyone around him.

His eyes flicked back up to the other's face once the conversation was finished and the door was once again closed. He let his hands fall back to his side, slightly worse for the wear. His smile lingered for longer this time. "Thank you, Miss Belle." He said, deciding to compromise on both of their wills. He could call her Miss and she could have her name in there. "I appreciate what you have done for me." He reached out and took her hand for a moment, squeezing it gently, his smile waned shy, and he let go of her hand and turned and walked away. Back to sleep for a while. Sleep was precious to him, he'd probably knock himself out before he even managed to lie down, judging by how tired he was at the moment.

James Dylor

James stretched, his body only complaining mildly, a few spinal segments popping pleasantly. He squeaked softly like a yawning puppy. Then he returned to his labour, the arduous task of tending to the king's quarters while he was out, doing whatever it was that he did while he was out. Kill things or some such nonsense. Thankfully, James had received aid in his work this past week, and loads were severely smaller, which gave him more time to...well...not work. If not for Belle James wouldn't have known what to do with himself. Free time to him was like blasphemy to a catholic. James had no qualms in indulging in the guilty pleasure though, despite his drive to continue working even after his quota had been filled for the day. The little man reached up on his toes to wipe the dust off a top shelf, his other hand thrown out behind him to keep his balance. He was finding it easier to move, and his body rarely ached terribly.

Belle was like a magical fairy, but a secretive fairy. He knew she had something to do with the fact that he had so much less to do, that he had more time for bathing and eating and sleeping, even just resting, something he hadn't done since his 'human' years. She never said anything about it though, and James never asked her directly, he rarely confronted her about the strange-ish little things that occurred when she was about. Servants slipping up, mostly, but a few other things as well. James had been taught to accept what he was told, though, and do what he was told as well, so he had no strong desire to uncover what was going on there. He just accepted the magic. Delighted in it, almost.

His hands were the largest wonder of them all. They were mostly smooth now, only minor calluses dotted the ridge of his palms, near his finger joints, and the interior of his thumbs and the tops of each finger. Those were necessary calluses though, and there was no raw skin that stung incessantly, and he could bend his fingers properly again. That little fact made James's lips curve into his discreet little smile every time he thought about it. Partly from gladness, and partly from the fact that he was acting like a child on Christmas day in the face of all this change in his favor. He still worked hard, and it seemed that he threw himself into his work with more ardor now than he had when he'd been overwhelmed, suffocated by the sheer weight of his load.

Shortly after finishing the top shelf, which had been quite dusty, to his surprise, James ran over the wooden floor once with a bristle broom and a dustpan, then he was finished with his chores for the moment. He'd probably end up wandering down and helping with supper preparations or some such thing until it was time to return and perform the evening chores. Or perhaps he'd seek out Belle and share some words with her or something. That was an easy way to pass the time, usually, despite James's quietness and his slight awkwardness in the face of social interaction.

James wandered slowly down the hall in front of the king's rooms, then he took a left, then a right, then another right before he realized that he was merely wandering aimlessly. He had no problem with that. The halls were mostly deserted on this floor, the servants seemed to always avoid this bit of the manor, even when the king was out. James reveled silently in the peace. Eventually he sought out an utterly deserted hall and settled down, his back against the wall, to close his eyes for a moment. His back bent, his head lolling forward, and his feet stuck out in front of him. He was still completely conscious, alert, but at the same time he was out if it. It had taken quite a bit of practice to attain such a skill. Quite a bit of need as well.

Belle’s day had been quiet. She’d decided to give James some solitude today and spend some time with her beloved books. So she sat in the windowsill of a big window situated in the library, facing the garden. She’d finished the big book lying in the lap and was resting her head against the glass, looking out. It seemed so peaceful now, with the king being out, his killing rate having gone down. No one understood why, but a week ago he’d let a servant girl who’d spilled his food on him, live. He’d actually let her live, and it hadn’t even stopped there. Since that day there had been several such incidents, and she couldn’t help but smile at it. Not even Bowen had figured out what was making his brother stable all of a sudden. Or… as stable as Narek had ever been, anyway. It was a joy, and it had lifted the entire feel of the manor in all honesty. Surely it had nothing to do with James to her. Not at all. Okay, so maybe he sort of brightened things too. Maybe not to everyone else, but she loved how his smiles had already become so much more frequent; how he no longer seemed like the world was on his shoulders.

The blonde knew she was partly responsible, and she reveled in that knowledge. Then there was the fact that it seemed he actually liked to talk to her. She delighted in this even more. She felt like she was actually making a real friend for once. Too bad she was lying to him about who she was. She’d have to tell him once her father came home, she knew that; her father wouldn’t play along. But Belle was merely enjoying things the way they were right now; she was happier, James was happier, and her father… well, he’d be home in a week or so. She wanted to break it to James before then. He’d probably figured something was a little off about her, but in reality Belle wasn’t only different. She was a noble woman of very high status and though she might hate it, there was no changing the facts. She had been born noble, just like James hadn’t. Belle shook her head, got up and placed the book back in its place on the shelf, looking at the selection for a little bit, wondering how James would react. She was afraid he’d change towards her; treat her like he should instead of how she wanted him to.

Belle ran a hand over the book-backs, loving the simplicity of books. People were so much harder to deal with. Belle only read books with happy endings; she was a romantic like that. Sad endings were wrong. Except for Romeo and Juliette, in which case the ending wasn’t entirely bad. Well, it could’ve gone better, but they had both died for love. That was the kind of love she wanted, really. She had tried explaining it to her father, but with no luck. He understood love; he did, but he didn’t understand her romantic need for it in a marriage. She was lucky, though. Most girls didn’t have the luxury of a choice. Her father was a good man, however, and he loved her enough to want her to be as happy as possible. It was a weird thing, how soft he was with her, because she knew how harsh and cruel he could be. You didn’t become captain of the Lykae king’s guard by being soft. Once more, she’d lost herself in thought and now she found herself worrying about said father. She had to stop doing that. Belle smiled a little to herself then, deciding that she’d go find James. He’d give her something else to focus on.

The blonde straightened out her outfit, tilting head a little. The skirt was thigh-length, the top very low-cut and didn’t cover her stomach entirely. She loved the outfit, but she wouldn’t wear it when around others. Then again, she wasn’t supposed to be a noble woman right now, was she? So technically she was allowed to wear it without breaking any ruled of etiquette. Her smile brightened her little as she then walked out of the library, searching for the darkhaired servant she’d spent so much time with lately. She was wandering aimlessly, having no idea where he was. When she finally spotted him sitting against the wall in a deserted part of the manor, she couldn’t help a little chuckle, stopping just a bit away from him. “Am I interrupting?” she asked him playfully, a glint in her beautiful eyes. He’d seemed to peaceful, so if he’d rather be alone she’d find something else to occupy her. She completely understood that sometimes you just needed to be alone.






The instant the servant heard steps coming in her direction, her gaze shot up, eyes red and swollen from her crying, tears having wetted her cheeks. She didn’t even register who it was; only that the figure was tall and male. She tried to scramble away, breathing pattern speeding up already, fear running through her as though it had been infused in her blood. Her eyes were wide and brown, resembling those of a frightened doe, her limbs trembling terribly. Her body was too weak for her to move away, so she merely gave up, her arms falling to her sides as she watched him. He was going to rape her. Men raped her. He was a man. He was going t-… and then her name came from his lips causing the young Halfling to blink a couple of times, the haze covering her teary sight clearing up a little. Yeremy? What was Yeremy doing here? And he was… telling her that he was sorry. For what? He hadn’t raped her. In fact, Yeremy had never raped her. The thought made her relax a little, her arms going back up around her legs.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It was just Yeremy. He wouldn’t hurt her… physically. He didn’t do that. Did he? No, he… and then his jacket was around her shoulders. Lena’s hands instinctively came up to pull it closer, covering her naked form. She took a deep, trembling breath, finally looking up at him as he spoke to her in a gentle voice. She opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but all that came was a croak. She’d screamed so much she’d probably damaged her vocal cords entirely. She closed her eyes and mouth, her head slumping, forehead coming to rest against her knees. Then the tears came again. You would think she’d dried out by now, but apparently she still had plenty of tears to show everyone. She couldn’t thank Yeremy for the jacket, or tell him that she was fine; that she’d take care of herself. That he didn’t have to spend his time helping her. Wait… helping her. Yeremy was helping her? Why? Why did he want to help her? He never had before. Not really. So why now? Was it because of what had happened last week? Or did he have some angle? Maybe he wasn’t trying to help her, but merely wanted an excuse to rape her somewhere private.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She needed his help, she really did. She didn’t want to admit it, but she couldn’t even walk. Her legs were too weak, and trembling too heavily. Her lower body was hurting so much that even moving it a little hurt like hell. She hugged the jacket close, looking up at Yeremy after a little while, finally nodding weakly, silently accepting his help. She couldn’t sit here like this when the king came back; he’d ask her what had happened. But even worse, he’d ask her who had done this to her, and she’d tell him all she knew. Or… well, she’d try to anyway. She’d probably end up shakily writing down the facts for him, and then things would only get even worse. You’d think that was impossible, but she, more than anyone, knew how imaginative the staff and guards around here could be and she didn’t want them thinking up more ways to torture her. For once, she was actually glad to see Yeremy, even if she was still trying to figure out what his plan was. He was a demon… demons didn’t feel compassion. They didn’t feel and that was flat. Right now, however, she didn’t have much of a choice. Her gaze immediately fell to her bare feet. Her shoes had fallen off of her during the uh… event.

Sabine Marx

Sabine made a chuffing sound in his throat. He didn't believe the flower. She'd just been nearly hit by a car. He inclined his head slightly, then tilted it in her direction. "I do not believe you, little Sunflower." he stated simply. He reached out with a finger and gently prodded the bruise welling up on her arm. "You were nearly killed by a reckless human," he paused for a moment, then pushed himself back to his feet, stretching his back and arms to prevent the soreness that loomed right above his muscles from over taking him yet. "Really, it would be no trouble, at least let Meridith take a look at your head and your arm, just to make sure." He implored in his half-melted sort of way. Lydia was the unnamed nurse of the company. She was similar to Lena in her background, Sabine had a sort of... softness towards the unfortunate halflings. Of course, Merry was quite a bit older than Lena, and she was more of a plump, good-natured type that would as soon whack you with a spoon as feed you. She was one of the only ones who Sabine referred to with her first name, not some blank pet name or merely her last name, because she was the sort of woman who demanded such things. Not vocally, but just front the way she held herself.

The daemon looked at the little human for a moment, his hand going to his other arm and toying with his rock decorated gash unconsciously. He wasn't going to just leave her sitting there. well, he could escort her home, but at the same time, a sneaking part of him wanted to spend more time with her. He put it down to making sure his efforts in saving her had been fruitful once again, he would not admit that he fancied this girl, not at all. After all, why would he? He was a daemon lord, and she was merely a little human dandelion. For that rhetorical question he had no answer. Fah, he needed to stop over thinking things.

"I shall not just leave you sitting here." Sabine said, moving nearer to her again, but not resuming his seated position on the stair. For a second, an expression flicked over his face, almost too quick for someone to see and process, then he had her again, up in his arms. He wasn't going to argue about this. he was already high strung, even though it really didn't show on his features, after what he'd done without his own permission. It was really eating at him. He didn't regret saving the girl, and that was part of the problem. His mind was delving into territories where he couldn't see the ground, where he didn't know whether his next step was going to be on dry ground, water, or thin air. And he hated it with every fibre of his being.

"My home is not far from here. Meridith will examine you, then I shall escort you where ever it was that you were going, or if you wish you may stay for supper." He said, his usually stony voice starting to strain with the effort of remaining impassive. He just couldn't take this. it was infuriating, but not in a way that made him want to destroy anything, except perhaps his own mind. After a block he set her down, almost positive that she would continue following him. If she did not, then he would not pursue her, she deserved to have some ounce of choice in the matter, he would merely continue on towards his home, through the gate and to the room next to the kitchen where Merry had set up her little impromptu work space, and get his own wounds examined and fixed. If she did chose to follow him, then nothing would change, and Merry would most likely make a fit over her king bringing a girl home.

Sabine's eyes found her face again, and he tried for a smile that turned out more like a grimace. "You deserve your own choice in the matter." he stated. "I shall not force you, but I would appreciate it if you assuaged my worries. I should not like you collapsing unexpectedly from a concussion or some such horror." His brow was knit with the faintest of creases, as if he truly meant what he was saying to the very depths of his core. Which he very well could have been. He was numb after about the third layer, so he couldn't tell.

---

James Dylor

The blue eyed boy's head jerked up as he heard Belle's words. He smiled at her. "No, no, I was just resting." he said, rising into a standing position. Blinking the slight stickiness of his half-nap from his eyes and running a hand through his hair. He heaved a sigh, refreshing the air in his lungs, but his smile weathered on for a few more moments. He, while he enjoyed silence, and the silent moments of reflection, enjoyed her company just as much. He'd never really had any sort of companion before, not in this world at least, as all the other servants seemed to ostracize him, and those who didn't were either apathetic or they were to scared that if they reached out to him that they would be ostracized themselves, or that they might draw attention from the king, which would ultimately end in death. And James had never really attempted to find friends after the first fifty years or so he'd pretty much just given up on the whole deal, pushing himself to work harder instead.

Belle was a pleasant change of pace. If nothing else, her mere presence was enough. Sometimes it was nice to just have someone around who cared. James hadn't had someone like that in his life since his Ma died. And she was like a little ray of sunshine, which he sorely needed. "How was your afternoon?" He inquired. He'd managed to get out of calling her Miss when it was apparent that she would be spending quite a bit of time with him, and that she obviously did not want him calling her by that title. Even though with the way she carried herself and air about her it seemed almost mandatory to call her such a name: Lady, Miss, but he didn't question it.

It was better not to.

Perhaps a part of his mind did know that she wasn't being entirely truthful, but another bit didn't want to know, preferred her company and feared what would happen when someone finally did out with whatever the truth was. Which was the largest reason why he let the matter be.

While he didn't didn't address her as Miss, he didn't throw her name into inane conversation. It didn't feel right to address her as such. So he only used her name when he absolutely had to, when he needed to catch her attention or some such thing. He tried to be discreet about it, but he didn't think it was working. Belle was astute, it was difficult to get anything past her. He fell into a step, one that he'd grown accustomed to after a week of walking and talking with the young woman. Just as he'd ceased his use of the title 'Miss', she'd stopped walking slightly behind him, and now they walked side by side, which he really appreciated. It was nice to not have to worry about rules and ranks and superiority and all the other foolish regulations of this world. The said and unsaid ones. To just walk with a friend. It reminded him of human days spent walking with friends, with girls, which were sweet memories.

Everything went by in a blur for the centuries old, damaged servant, her body continuously trembling, completely out of her control. Her eyes were still watery, her mind sort of mushy. She closed her eyes the second Yeremy even touched her, her whole body stiffening defensively even at that gentle contact. She didn’t move as he picked her up though, but she didn’t relax either. A part of her knew she had no reason to fear physical violations from Yeremy, but her unreasonable fear clouded her better judgment. She doubted his every action, just waiting for him to make a move on her, smash her against the wall and force himself inside her bloody, hurting sheath. His gentle words didn’t bring any comfort. It could all be a trick. He couldn’t possibly want to help her. No one wanted to help her. The only one she’d ever felt safe with, was the king, and even he sometimes scared her. She certainly didn’t want him to know of this. She had to make sure Yeremy didn’t tell him, but she couldn’t even speak right now. Then again, if he planned to hurt her, he probably wouldn’t say anything to the king and her secret would be safe.

As Yeremy drew quiet during the walk to his rooms, Lena felt herself relaxing slightly, her muscles easing up. Being carried didn’t help the pain, but she doubted anything could really make it worse. At least he was being gentle with her, and that, more than anything, was a comfort. She opened her eyes just a little, looking up at him. She didn’t detect any hostility directed towards her. Actually, she thought he might be angry at her condition and who had brought her to this state, but that couldn’t be right. Could it? There was an unfamiliar look of almost… pity, or maybe even compassion in his eyes. Lena drew in a deep breath; ignoring the searing pain it brought her throat and lungs. Then, in spite of herself, she leaned into him, her head coming to rest against his chest, eyes closing again, finding odd comfort in his warmth and the even beat of his heart. She wanted to trust him… wanted to feel safe with him, but a part of her was still whispering that he had hidden motives to helping her. Everyone had darker motives to their actions. Lena had learned as much from her time with the king. The naïve, young Halfling she’d been when she had first arrived, had been torn to pieces, leaving… her. Whatever she was. She could no longer tell. A broken shell, most likely.

She didn’t realize they’d entered Yeremy’s bedroom until he carefully put her down on his soft bed. She instantly curled back into the ball of limbs she’d been when he’d found her; her legs pressed to her chest, arms around them, her forehead against her knees. It was her protective stance, really. It was all she could do to protect herself… not that it ever helped, but it helped her calm her racing heart a little, tampering that unwelcome fear down. She’d begun reasoning with herself a little as Yeremy came back and picked her up again. Lucid enough to think a little more clearly, Lena looked up at Yeremy, her eyes still big and terrified, but the dread was beginning to give way to a glint of wary curiosity. She still couldn’t figure out why he was helping her. She’d have to ask him… at some point. Right now she knew no words would be able to emanate from her sore throat. Besides, she really was too tired to think all that much on the matter of why. Instead, she found herself liking the fact that Yeremy would do this for her, even if he might have ulterior motives, but… there was a little part of her that hoped the glimmer of the Yeremy she’d seen that night a week ago, was back. She’d seen a change then, but hadn’t been able to gather anything from him since.

A small, almost invisible smile cracked her lips when she felt hot steam on her skin upon entering the bathroom. It felt so good; she could almost feel the warm water enveloping her slight form already, bringing relief to her aching body. The smile, however, died the next second as dread settled in the pit of her stomach. What if he wanted to join her? Rape her in the water? No. That wasn’t Yeremy. She knew that. Or… at least she thought she did. A little. It was so hard; she didn’t want to trust Yeremy out of the fear that he’d turn from her, yet she wanted to trust him anyway, even if she didn’t entirely understand the reasons for that particular wish. Maybe she just needed it. Lena wasn’t build for this cold place. The human part of her craved warmth and care. She’d tried to suppress it, but in this vulnerable situation, both her body and mind were stripped bare, and she couldn’t stop all those human desires from overwhelming her. She drew Yeremy’s jacket close, subconsciously trying to shield herself with the fabric.

That same second, Lena felt Yeremy lowering her into the bathtub, jacket and all still on her. She almost smiled as a sigh of relief escaped her full lips. It was a small favor, letting her keep the jacket on, but it meant more to her than she could possibly describe. If he’d taken the jacket, she thought she might break completely. She looked up at Yeremy again, her eyes still wary, yet this little gesture of his made her warm up emotionally, appreciation showing in the beautiful, brown depths. She was thanking him with only the look in her eyes, since she couldn’t speak. The heat of the water lapping around her prone form lulled her tired body and she couldn’t resist closing her eyes, sinking deeper into the water. She rested her head against the side of the tub, feeling oddly safe an protected, like she deep down knew that Yeremy wouldn’t hurt her. The adviser had made her feel safe. How it had happened, she didn’t understand, and she didn’t even ponder it further as her mind and body slipped into unconsciousness, her hands still hugging the jacket tightly around her almost like a safety net.



Belle almost giggled at James‘s startled awakening. She was honestly a little surprised at it; he was usually pretty attentive, so in some way, she’d actually assumed he’d hear her walked down the hall. On the other hand, it wasn’t like she was being loud. In fact, her steps were nearly soundless. He was only a Halfling, too, so maybe his senses weren’t as keen as hers? She’d have to read up on the matter, but from what she’d gathered, every Halfling was different, so maybe she wouldn’t really gain anything from her books. She might just have to try out the theory. At his words, she did chuckle softly, shaking her head as she watched him get up, “resting, huh? It looked astoundingly much like napping to me.” Her voice held a touch of playfulness, and a smile was on her lips; one of the bright ones, so characteristic for the blonde female. She was watching him, thinking how he actually looked rather cute, standing there, waking himself, that amazing smile lightening up his entire face, making his captivatingly blue eyes glitter.

The blonde blinked a couple of times when James spoke again, and smiled at him, shaking herself out of this odd moment of… well, what was it? Belle had no honest clue, and she wasn’t even entirely sure she wanted to find out. Such an odd thing; watching him like that. Almost like you’d watch dancing fire. Captivated, drawn in by the sight. James was… James. He was a Halfling servant, and thought she adored him, there was just no way that she could-… no. She couldn’t. Besides, it was nothing. A weird moment in passing. No one could deny that James had beautiful eyes, really, so it wasn’t just her. Oh, wait… he’d asked her a question. How had her afternoon been? Well, it had been lazy. She’d spent it reading, but again… she wasn’t entirely sure she could say that. In all honesty, she’d never once told James what she did do herself; only that she was there to make sure he didn’t get himself killed by the king. It wasn’t really a hard job lately. She supposed she could tell him, though. You didn’t have to be of noble descent to spend time reading, and if her only job was to watch over him, there was no issue with her reading.

“It was nice,” she finally said as he began walking with her, “I suppose a little lazy.” She chuckled a little, smiling at him. It was incredibly nice being able to actually look at his face while talking to him, so though she felt a little awkward, she’d caved in. Besides, she’d spent about a day trying to fall behind, and he’d just adjust his pace. In the end, Belle had had to admit she’d been beaten at her own game, which surprisingly wasn’t really a bad realization. “I spent a couple of hours in the library, reading.” The tilted her head a little, watching him curiously. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever had time to stay there any. It has never been part of your schedule, has it?” She lit up in another smile, an idea forming, “would you like to see it?” She knew servants rarely dared in there, so she wasn’t sure whether James had been there or not. It was usually where Bowen could be found, if he wasn’t in bed with a woman, or out hunting the king, making sure he didn’t make trouble. He, like her, loved reading, although she knew he didn’t read fairytales or lovestories like her. No, Bowen much preferred books that, as he phrased it, “challenged his intellect”. Everything from psychology to a particularly clever biography by some economist or whatever. Stuff many people found tedious.

Point was, that even because Bowen was there a lot of the time, people didn’t dare in. He was unusually prickly about being interrupted in his reading. Then you’d be able to see the Lykae male within. She’d witnessed it a couple of times, though it had never been directed at her. She always just kept to herself, reading in the windowsill. Sometimes he’d put down his books and start a conversation with her, which was nice too. Some Lykaes were just seriously weird and Bowen was one of them. They should have a stamp in their foreheads, reading “DANGER: handle with care”.

James Dylor

The young man hadn't noticed the look that had crossed Belle's face for the moment after her playful words, as he was still struggling with the last dregs of his half-sleep. As they walked he cleaned himself up a bit, flattening the wrinkles in his shirt that had sprung up during his nap and running a hand through his hair, restoring it to some semblance of neatness. It was actually getting quite long, he'd have to drum up some way to cut it again, either by taking shears to his own head or sneaking off at some time and either scrounge up enough money to get one or donate his head to the science of hair cuttery for an hour and hopefully make it out with his neck still attached to his shoulders and his ears where they should be. He very much liked his ears, but he loathed having his hair in his face, and cutting his hair himself would most likely end up badly. Not to mention the fact that he didn't have very much human currency on him at the moment.

James turned his attention to Belle as she spoke, nodding interestedly. She offered her usual, slightly vague answer, nothing more than James expected. And then she added more information. She'd been in the library, reading. James remembered enjoying books when he was in school. They'd changed with the times, but always stayed the same, somehow. That had been quite a long time ago, however, and James had never had any motivation to explore this library. He was too busy to, of course. He'd been inside a couple times, the king rarely visited the library, so it wasn't part of his chore list. Bowen, he knew, spent quite a bit of time in there, which was the primary reason for many of James's brief visits. Delivering an oral note from the king.

At the young woman's next words, James's expression faltered with trepidation for a few moments. He could tell the library meant quite a bit to his companion though, so he wasn't going to refuse. But it had been much too long since James had read anything more than a couple sentences. His reading skill and speed had dwindled down to the prowess of a human kindergartener. And admittedly, he didn't want Belle to know that. Being in the library, which was quite full of books, heightened that chance. "I'd love to." He said all the same, reviving himself. "I've only been in the library sparingly." He agreed with her prior statement after a moment.

Many of the servants, and guards as well, were no great shakes at reading unless they needed it for one of their jobs. It seemed that literary intelligence wasn't an imperative for working in the King's court. Of course, many of the Lykaes, if they had been smarter, wouldn't be working directly for the king. Because, despite the recent slowdown of deceased servants, the king went through many people, and needed a steady flow of new ones to take their places. which meant that not only were many noble's younger sons and daughters affected to the court, some because it was an honor to serve the king, and some who were, like James, failures in the eyes of their parents, many who were desperate for work and a somewhat steady pay were drawn into the place.

Well, on the bright side, being in the library didn't necessarily mean that he'd have to read. he could smile and nod and go along with whatever it was that Belle wanted to show him well enough. He liked her company, and by no means was going to reject it over such a petty little thing, even if it did set him slightly uneasy. The blue-eyed young man managed a true smile, and gestured forward to sooth his own silly misgivings. "Lead the way."


Sabine Marx

What crossed the tall daemon's face after the little sunflower accepted his offer was perhaps one of the strongest emotions to cross his face in a long while. Or at least, the strongest emotion not based on some type of rage or anger. It wasn't all that potent, the corners of his eyes and mouth relaxed slightly, and he almost looked happy for a moment. He looked away, back down the street they were walking down. They were quite close to home. More the 'the house' actually. Sabine tried to keep out of it as much as he could. It wasn't that he didn't like the place, it was just another building to him, and it held nothing of interest apart from Lena. And most of his and Lena's conversations involved few words and much sitting in the same room, absorbed in their own books. Which was actually quite far from stimulating. It was relaxing though, he'd give it that.

"Thank you." He said softly, almost as if he was speaking to himself, not her. He shot her a slightly curious green-eyed glance, but looked away quickly. He felt quite awkward now. What does one say to a human girl? He couldn't help but wonder. Then he shook the thoughts out of his head. What was he doing, worrying on like a love struck school child. Ha. Sabine said nothing as they rounded the block. Now there was another two blocks before the manor, and then Merry's prattling on about something or another would drown out everything else. Sabine couldn't help but shoot the blonde woman another glance. Just why had he saved her? Topically there was nothing special about her, no features that stuck out. She was pretty, granted, but still just a normal human. And he was Sabine, King of the Daemons, known for his sharp intelligence and heartless exterior. How had she reduced him to such base instincts as to run out and risk injury to save her? Humans, mortals, they lived, then they died, what did it matter to him?

It mattered quite a bit, apparently. Or at least, this curious creature did. This woman who'd followed him through the park, more curious than frightened, and who now bravely accompanied him home. She couldn't just be a normal human. Sabine would un-puzzle this curiosity. He'd figure out just why this little sun-daughter had drawn something out of him that no one else dared to even dream of trying to do. She'd piqued a protective instinct that just wasn't logically safe. And Sabine, while it did eat away at his mind due to its baffling qualities, didn't mind it all that much. It was new, different.

For now Sabine decided that he'd act as these new little instincts told him to. He'd see exactly what they wanted out of his acquaintanceship with Haven Parker. Perhaps discerning a motive would make this easier to understand. it was almost as if he was examining another, not his own mind, as these little creeping sensations were quite foreign. He shot yet another look at the young woman walking next to him, then almost tentatively reached out and took her delicate hand in his, offering another attempt at a smile. This small action seemed to weight more than previous contact with her, holding her arm, pushing her out of the way, picking her up, those were menial, inane. But Sabine couldn't identify this. he felt one part nervous, as if worried that she'd pull away, half a part like he did when he was thinking about Lena, and half a part that he couldn't quite put his thumb on. The emotion was familiar enough, his body was capable of handling it, but he had to words to put it to. And then there was a smearing of protectionism, which seemed almost feral in nature. Like the annoyance he felt at the guards he knew abused Lena, but amplified.

Sabine seemed quite drained of words as they walked, he was very busy trying to work everything out in his head, this was something he needed to write down on a very large sheet of paper and work out, his head was no place to be doing such things. They reached the gate, which was opened promptly for them, and up the short walk to the face of his home. The front lawn of sorts had been turned into something new, it was a garden of sorts to keep curious eyes out. A shallow lake filled the basin in the middle, and trees, mostly willow trees, manifested the rolling stretch before the foreboding building. Halfway down the walk the sounds from the outside world were hushed to a quiet murmur that the whispering of the trees easily overtook. Sabine sighed pleasantly. "I should apologize in advance for Merry, she's quiet eccentric." He said, coming alive again, taking his hand from Haven's and running it through his hair as he looked up at his home. The one back in Dorthi Regum was much more beautiful, but this one served its purposes. It looked like a haunted mansion before it was haunted, actually.

Upon stepping inside, it wasn't long before Sabine had led his companion to the room beside the kitchen, which was quite similar in layout. The largest difference was the woman inside, who was clucking over something with her back turned to the pair when they entered. The slight creases of a mischievous, nearly childlike grin curved the fair man's face. "Merry, I have a job for you." He called out. The woman jumped and turned around, a look of delight spreading across her features. She had long brown hair that was pulled up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were the color of cracked stone. She had a slightly ruddy complexion, and laugh lines drew bold marks across her face.

"Sabine, sweetheart!" She said. Sabine allowed himself to be embraced by the very short, slightly round woman. "You haven't come down to chat in a good long while." She reprimanded him sweetly before being distracted by the guest. "Oh, hello there chickadee, It's nice to meet you!" She said, grabbing the blonde girl's hand and shaking it before pulling her into a spine cracking embrace as well. "What are we here for?" She asked, looking back to the king.

"We had an unfortunate run in with a car." He said.

"Oh dearie. Well, let me check you over sweetheart." She said, pulling up a plain, sturdy chair for the human girl to sit in. "Let's see, do you have any open wounds? How about bruises? Let me look at your pupils too." The woman began rattling off possibly afflictions quickly, whirl winding around her new charge, intermingling her health questions with personal ones. "What's your name? How did you meet Sabine? You know, he doesn't bring many young ladies home." She giggled and earned a sharp look from Sabine, who'd moved over to the doorway and was speaking quietly to a tall redheaded woman. The woman scurried off, off to find Lena, a slightly perturbed look in her eye. she'd heard what had happened to the girl. Guard talk spread fast.

When Sabine’s hands when to his head, Lena winced, knowing exactly what that meant. Horns. Sabine was angry… like, really angry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him fight his body’s instinct to sprout horns, much less him giving in to it. Actually… she thought she’d only seen him sprout actual horns once, but it had been a very long time ago. Her limbs felt numb and weak, but had to keep standing. She couldn’t let him see that it was much, much worse than it appeared. Especially not with the extreme reaction she was getting with ‘only’ this. It wasn’t like her king to get temperamental like this over her. Sure, he was usually quite upset, irritated and sometimes even angry, but never like this. She blinked a couple of times as she watched him. Next thing she knew, Sabine was crouching down in front of here, their eyes level with each other. She merely looked at him, unable to even smile. She just couldn’t make herself – she no longer had the energy. The walk to Merry’s little room had been so very tiring to the abused servant.

She nodded weakly at Sabine’s orders, her eyelids fluttering closed when he gently caressed her face. She liked gentle Sabine. He made her feel safe and cherished; as much as she would ever in this place, anyways. She knew he cared to the extent of his abilities, and it was usually heartwarming, but right now she just couldn’t even smile at him. When his fingers left her face, Lena opened her eyes once more and looked up at the man who had now straightened himself, speaking to the blonde. Lena’s bloodshot eyes moved to her. Haven. That was a pretty name… and she had beautiful, golden hair. But what mostly caught Lena’s interest, were the freckles. She had freckles? She could definitely see Sabine’s interest in the woman, even if she would be considered plain to humans. Haven was pretty and she had several blessings from the Sun God. Lena had neither… and she never would have. Her father was unlike most other demons. He cherished blondes like most others, but he wasn’t attracted to them. Lena’s mother had been from some Asian country. She had never been told which.

When she looked back up at Sabine, he was exiting the room, going into the kitchen. Lena winced, glancing at Merry with an alarmed expression. If Sabine was going to flip, it was going to be loud. Kitchen meant plates, and Lena wasn’t sure how much more he was going to do, but she didn’t want to risk this human hearing or seeing things she wasn’t supposed to. They’d have to do something about that, and she knew Merry would know exactly what to do with the woman if only Lena could speak her concerns. She tried to let all of her distress show in her eyes, but she was too tired, and her eyes too dull. Her lips fell apart in silent shock when Sabine stalked back inside, grabbed Yeremy and pulled him along as he made his way out of the room again. Yeremy had been there too? For how long? Had he been following her? Out of concern… or curiosity? She really wished she was better at reading people right now Being her was just so difficult sometimes. Merry was a Halfling too, but she had never been treated like Lena had. Maybe because she just had a different air about her. She demanded respect… even from the king.

The king who had just left the room with long, angry and decisive strides. Lena suddenly feared for the guard who had hurt her. It was only a matter of time before Sabine or Yeremy knew who it had been and then he’d regret his actions very much. That much was obvious. She could tell that both Sabine and Yeremy had been fuming, but only Yeremy’s was surprising. Then again… his concern for her and willingness to help her, had been surprising too. Was Yeremy, the cold adviser of the Demon King, really, truly warming up then? Was that what it meant? She blinked again a couple of times, noting that Merry was making her way over. Lena shook her head a little and made a writing motion with her hand. She didn’t pay attention to Merry’s words, but the woman did get her some paper and a pencil. Lena shakily wrote simple words to make Merry understand her intentions. She would’ve written it better, but her hand was weak and trembling. She was on the verge of fainting, but she had to take care of the king’s secrecy first.

Haven needs to sleep. Can’t hear Sabine. He needs to remain secret. No humans poking around. She didn’t write more than that, but it was enough. As she handed it to Merry, she saw understanding light in the woman’s eyes and as Lena, whose ears were swimming now, making her deaf, was ushered onto a bed in the room, she felt the world slowly disappear around her. Why was everything so blurry and why were there two Merry’s? She blinked a couple of times, trying her very hardest to remain conscious, but as her head landed on the soft pillow, all resistance became futile. She did register that Merry was putting some substance in a syringe before she drifted off, however. But it was enough; she knew that Merry would make Haven sleep too. And that’s exactly what the older Halfling did. She told Haven that it was to help with any unease her body might be experiencing. Haven was gently tugged into the other bed in the room, already in deep sleep when the first plate was heard smashing against a wall a little away from the room they were in. Lena vaguely registered the sounds, but she wasn’t able to piece together where they came from as Merry became examining her.

---

Oh, James looked so unsure of himself. Why did he do that? He’d been raised as a human, right? And all humans were taught to read. She knew that, so what was the problem then? Didn’t he like to read? She considered it for a moment, watching the cogs turning in his head. He wasn’t making a decision for some reason, and she really couldn’t help but wonder at the reasons. It could be Bowen. Maybe he didn’t like going there because the prince adviser spent so much time there. Maybe he was worried the man was there right now. Maybe he just didn’t like libraries, or… maybe he merely didn’t wish to go with her. Perhaps she’s misread him entirely. Oh, why wasn’t he answering? She was growing nervous, fiddling with the hem of her short halterneck. She really wanted to show him something that was a big part of who she was, but at the same time she didn’t want to pressure him in to anything. James, to her, had become a friend and she cared about him.

In fact, maybe that concept alone was student; caring about the King’s personal servant. Their life-spans had this tendency to be rather short in all. She shook it off, inwardly scolding herself. James wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t displease the king. He had, after all, lived this long, right? James was going to be the exception to the rule. She was going to make it so. Maybe she was just fooling herself; a noble woman used to getting what she wanted, but Belle didn’t care. She was going to try her very best. When he finally replied, Belle’s face lit up and a smile came to adorn the pretty features. However, her happiness was tampered down a little by him not smiling. Why wasn’t he smiling? Was he just doing this to make her happy or did he actually want to go? It was so hard to tell.

Then he finally smiled, uttering his last three words and her smile brightened. “Really?” She said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. It was very unladylike, but she didn’t care right now. It was James. James was different; she didn’t need to bother with manners around him. She actually felt like he preferred her not to. It was an interesting paradox, because it shouldn’t be that way… yet it was. So very odd how he’d changed her perception of the world in just ones week, but she liked he image he was representing. She shook herself out of her reverie and took James’ hand, smiling at him. “Let’s go then,” she said happily and led the way, although still trying to walk beside him instead of in front of him. The walk wasn’t long, truthfully; not with all of the shortcuts. She didn’t bother talking much; she was thinking. Thinking of her life and how things were going to change when her father returned. Captain of the guard. Ugh, she could just see James running away from her, never to talk to her ever again out of fear of her father. Maybe that was why she’d taken his hand.

It had been a strange compulsion at first, but she found she actually liked holding James’ hand. Her balm had made it soft, albeit it would always be slightly calloused. She liked the mixture. Part of the sweet man she knew he was, and the strength in him that had made it possible for him to stay alive for this long in the king’s service. She glanced over at James a couple of times, just to see his eyes. They were so captivating. She smiled unknowingly, and then they were at the library. The pushed the door open, but she didn’t enter. Merely stood there in the doorway, holding the door. She immediately let go of James’ hand, her mouth falling open in shock. There was a huge man in the middle of the library. His back had been turned at first, but he’d turned to face the door the second Belle had begun pushing it open. Most people knew this man as Captain Forrean. Belle knew him as ‘father’. Oh, this wasn’t good. Why was he home so early? She didn’t want him to be home already! She loved her father, and she was happy he was back safely, but… no. Just no! He couldn’t be back already.

“Annabelle,” he said, his deep voice rumbling, but gentle and caring. He smiled, his eyes alight with joy of seeing his daughter again after so long apart. The captain was a big man; bigger than most. 7 feet tall with huge shoulders and a body made of pure muscle. His face was kind, though; at least it was now that his daughter was there. Belle made a face. “Welcome home,” she said formally before shaking off her reservations. She couldn’t hide things anymore. James was going to find out now, or in five minutes. No way was her father playing along without proper explanation, and James was here. The captain raised an eyebrow, humor dancing in his green eyes. “Is that all I get?” he teased, chuckling a little. Belle couldn’t help laughing. “No, it’s not,” she replied with a big smile and flung herself into the arms of her father, hugging him tight. His big arms wound around her and only then did he really pay attention to the male servant. He frowned. “Leave you alone for a month and suddenly you’re keeping new company,” he said dryly, not bothering to lower his voice. To anyone else, this might seem accidental, but Belle knew her father was perfectly aware of his volume.

The captain’s eyes were boring into James, clearly telling him that he was not allowed to leave just yet. Belle winced and looked carefully up at her father before sighing and wiggling her way out of his embrace. Her face was flushed him embarrassment she looked from James to Captain Forrean. “Uhm… James, this is my father, Captain Forrean, but… you probably already know who he is.” Her eyes fell to the ground, but she was peeking up at her father. “Bowen asked me to look after the king’s personal servant,” she explained to her father, whose face was intrigued and serious, but not exactly hard and threatening as it could be. He watched James carefully before nodding slowly. “I see,” he then merely said.

James Dylor

Belle looked quite excited when James smiled, which made him smile more. He'd known that agreeing to go with her to the library would please her, but he hadn't expected that much of a response. It made him happy though, to see her so excited. He liked her smile, and he liked to see her loose the reservations that were forced on women in this place. In a sense, he felt like this was his way of returning her favor. Letting her step out of the box of the rules set up for her just in the same was as she had pulled him from his box. He still didn't feel like it was enough, but he was set on doing what he could. She deserved it.

When her fingers curled around his hand, James was mildly surprised. Hand holding wasn't a common activity for the young halfer. He didn't mind it though, Belle's hand was soft like a bird wing, so delicate, but strong enough to hold the bird in flight. And it was a physical link between them. Another little thing that James appreciated, another act of friendship. The walk was quiet, and he wondered what was on her mind. She looked kind of nervous. Well, not nervous, persay, but like she was worried about something. What could it be? James wasn't going to pry though, whatever it was seemed like a soft subject, and he was trying to respect her privacy. If it was something important, or something she needed help with she'd tell him, right?

Right.

The blonde still had a bright smile on her face as they walked, and James felt her eyes flick to him a number of times. When ever she caught his eyes with her own he offered her a smile. The library was extremely important to her, he gathered from the way she was acting. Perhaps an extremely personal part of her life? James decided that he was glad that he'd said yes, even though he was still very uneasy about the whole thing.

He was not prepared in the least for what happened next. At first he was slightly confused by Anabelle's reaction to the man in the library. The Captain of the Guard. James had never personally met the man before, he hadn't been around long enough, but there wasn't a Lykae who didn't know who this was. Strong, brave, Captain Forrean was probably one of the most revered men in the kingdom (that was still living). Anabelle's face dropped with shock, and she released James's hand like it was on fire. Said hand proceeded to fold into the other hand behind James's back as he straightened.

The first confusing thing was swiftly accompanied by another, this perhaps more bewildering than the first. The way the man said Belle's name. He looked quite pleased to see her, and the expression on his face was one of caring. James's eyes flicked to the blonde young woman, then back to the Captain as she responded. Wait. They had similar features. James was almost sure he wasn't projecting his thoughts on the two, and his guess was confirmed when the young woman moved to throw herself into a hug. But it really didn't click, the meaning of what was going on. Not until the Captain made the comment about the company Belle was keeping.

The realization didn't spread across his face, but he blinked once, his expression fading from bewildered to what one could assume was an apathetic mask. In reality, his mind was flying, trying to comprehend just what was going on. Belle wasn't who he had thought she was. She was a noblewoman. She'd never lied to him, but close enough, letting him think that. He was a fool for believing her. He'd had suspicions, little things, but he'd refused them. Which made it all the worse.

The dark haired halfer twitched slightly, as if getting ready to escape, but he noted the Captain's eyes on him. Those eyes told him that it wasn't a good idea to leave yet. His own blue eyes dropped under the scrutiny, back still straight and body tensed. He needed to process this, to comprehend the smaller aspects of what was going on, to make some kind of plan of action. he wanted vainly to escape at that very moment.

He listened with half an ear as Belle tried to explain things, introducing him to her father; telling her father just what she was doing with a scrappy servant boy. James then proceeded to bow to the Captain, which he'd forgotten to do upon arriving in his presence due to his utter bewilderment.

"Forgive me Captain, my lady, I must finish preparing his Majesty's quarters for his return." The boy said, his words falling from his mouth in a quiet rush, quite aware that he was out of conduct. And then he fled, shooting Belle a wounded look that he didn't entirely mean before disappearing down the hall. He didn't go very far, just down the hall and into a less used servant stairwell. No one was there at the moment, so he sat down near the top and put his hands over his face so he could calm his mind down in the dark of his palms.

He needed to completely reorganize his thoughts, because James wasn't one to take surprises well. After his monotonous service to the King, where rages were to be expected, true surprise wasn't something he was accustomed to. He liked his monotony. Perhaps a day before he might have thought that he preferred Belle to his monotony, but now he wasn't completely sure. She was the daughter of the captain of the guard after all. They weren't good company for each other, obviously. Bowen had been mistaken when he put her to that task, of course, it couldn't work out, any kind of friendship between Belle and him. There were certain Lykae customs that he dismissed, but this was not one of them, because it held sway in the human world as well (But to a lesser degree).

And he felt a fool for ever believing her, for accepting what she told him without question. That was the main source of his distress. She was probably amused that he was so gullible, a stupid boy. of course she was, how could she not be?

Belle couldn’t read the expression on James’ face and it worried her more than anything. She knew she’d just sprung a bomb on him, but the way he’d shut down, his thoughts covered by a mask of apathy, made it impossible to gauge his reaction. She had no clue where this left them and she bit down on her lower lip nervously. Her father was doing that thing he did, looking at James like he was assessing a new variable in an equation he was adamant o figuring out. She loved her father, but right now he was making James unnecessarily uncomfortable and she hated it. The way his bright eyes had fallen to the floor made her want to beg her father to stop, but she held her tongue. There were certain things her father didn’t tolerate in public and that would be one of them. He couldn’t have people know that his daughter actually held even the tiniest bit of sway over him in any way.

When James finally spoke, the teeth already chewing on Belle’s lower lip, bit down harder and she clasped her hands in front of her, one worrying the other. She tried to keep still, she really did, but they’d hurt; James’ words…. Or, two in particular; ”my lady”. There it was, already right there. He was treating her differently, creating a distance between them she’d been so happy wasn’t there before; the distance of classes. She hated it. Hated that there were so many unwritten rules of conduct. Hell, James was breaking one right now; leaving without permission. Her father wasn’t going to be happy about that at all. She watched James practically fleeing the room after hurriedly excusing himself, and then he was gone. Out of reach. Was this fixable? Would he ever be able to see past her social status and just be her friend, or did he now fear her due to her father? She just didn’t know and she couldn’t even imagine. It was horrible. All the insecurities.

Belle glanced at her father, watching him. His brows were furrowed, his eyes suddenly hard and Belle inwardly flinched, knowing that James was going to be in trouble now. Her father was a man who demanded respect. The very air around him seemed to command it and he didn’t ever accept even the smallest of mistakes. It worried her that he didn’t speak; merely stood there. Her gaze fell to the floor as she cleared her throat. “He um…” she began, sighing softly, “he didn’t know who I was. Bowen told me not to tell him and… this is how he found out.” That’s when the captain’s eyes turned towards her, but they didn’t soften. Oh, so he was mad at her too, then. “I realize I have been very soft on your, Annabelle. I’ve more or less let you do what you wanted, but this is crossing the line. There are rules, certain protocols that are to be followed. Bowen need not worry about these things because he was born into the royal family, but for everyone else, power comes from the respect you earn.”

His voice was smooth but reprimanding, showing her that he wasn’t angry. He was disappointed. Oh, this was so much worse. Her shoulders slumped as she stood there. “I know,” she whispered meekly. She knew what he was telling her; her behaviour reflected on him, and he was in a precautious situation. The captain of the guard couldn’t lose respect. If he did, he might a well sign his own resignation because he wouldn’t be able to properly command his men. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, her voice thick with unshed tears. Now she wondered… had Bowen thought about this when he gave her this task? Probably. But did that mean he’d found a way around it, or that he didn’t care? She wanted to go back in time. Just… half an hour. 10 minutes even… or 5. Just.. so long as she and James had never encountered her father like this, she would’ve been happy. Everything was falling apart around her. She took a deep, trembling breath, trying to control herself and her father sighed, wrapping big arms around her in the next instant.

Belle spent the next couple of minutes apologizing while trying to explain herself… and what James meant to her. How happy she was that he was her friend; the first real friend she’d ever had, and the Captain listened, quiet and patient. She could tell he was still not happy, though, but she wasn’t sure if it was at her, or at James’ breach of etiquette earlier. Either way, she had to go find him… she had to talk to him – clarify everything. So after a little while, she excused herself to her father, explaining that she couldn’t leave things this way, and he let her go. He actually let her go. Belle hugged him close, told him that she loved him and was soon out the door, occasionally calling James’ name as she wandered the massive mansion. She had no idea where he was, but she was certain he wasn’t where he said he’d be, so she didn’t even bother going to the king’s quarters.

James Dylor

James stiffened slightly when he heard Belle's voice. He lifted his head, tracking the voice, remaining absolutely still as if he was a mouse being hunted by a cat. After the voice had passed, he poked his head out of the top of the stair in time to see her back disappearing around a corner. She obviously hadn't bought what he'd said. She wasn't as foolishly susceptible to lies, not like him, apparently. Perhaps he should make a dash for it and seek refuge in the King's quarters. Although, who knew how long it would be until he arrived home, and who really knew what mood he'd be in. Of late he'd seemed more lax, but James knew that the king was quite temperamental, and should be treated as such.

The boy rubbed his face, the skin around his nose and eyes looked rather red, as it always did when he had his face squinched up. He huffed a sigh. He might as well go up there, it'd be better than sitting down here and moping until he was caught and told off by someone as if he was nothing more than an unruly little school boy.

The young halfer darted across the hall, going in the direction opposite of the blonde who'd walked past not two minutes before. His head was ducked, as if he expected to be caught at any moment, and the look on his face was one part upset, one part annoyed, and one part weary. He just needed to sleep now, he wished he could just go bury himself somewhere for a couple days and not come out until all this mess was gone and he could go back to stumbling around, blindly and mindlessly doing chores and hopefully staying alive. Go back to not thinking. Gee, it had been nice while it lasted, but all things inevitably came to an end, did they not? He'd always end up being pulled along by the river again, floating more than swimming, making just enough effort to keep himself from drowning, but not really getting anywhere.

Quickly, quickly, he was safe in the king's quarters, leaning against the door and closing his eyes. After the moment it took him to steady his breathing and heartbeat, he cast about for something to do. He'd already completed his chores for this period of time, everything was quite clean. He could take a brush over the floor again but he'd done that yesterday, and it was too late anyway. He didn't want the King to come home to a wet floor. That wouldn't make anyone happy. His eyes settled on the drapes. Well, it was something to do.

The blue eyed boy pushed off from the door, trotting over to the hangings, and gave them a shake. dust fell from them, not enough to make a proper cloud, but enough to let him know that it had been a good two or so weeks since they'd had their last cleaning. To really clean them he'd need to take them out and hit all the dust out of them. But for now he could knock loose a bit of the dust and readjust the hangings so they looked more even.

Sabine Marx

Sabine was staring at the wall, contemplating things. Yeremy, Lena, the guard, plates, whichever servant who'd come by and cleaned the shards up. His arm twinged suddenly, reminding him of it's presence. he looked at it, nonplussed by its grab for attention. Oh, well, look at that. The skin on his arm from where he'd taken a trip across the pavement was starting to heal, only to find its path blocked by a number of little pebbles who'd settled down in his arm. He'd forgotten about those. With careful fingers he attempted to pluck one of the little annoyances out of his arm, but it refused, too deep in his forearm for him to get a proper grip on it.

He'd need to go procure something from Merry so he could pull them out. Oh, and speaking of that, Haven. He'd forgotten about her. She'd probably need some kind of reassurance thanks to his abrupt departure. He didn't want her stressed anymore than she already was by her near death experience. Humans were fragile creatures. The smallest of imbalances could wreak havoc on them. If they simply took control of themselves it would be easier, but apparently humans didn't have the same control over their exteriors as most daemons did. They were more like Lykaes on that front, Sabine supposed. Euch, it was a shame, but there was nothing he could do about the shared qualities of the two species.

The blonde wandered back to the little room and began digging around in the cabinets for something that he could use to pull those infernal little bits of earth from his personage. The first thing he came across was a sewing needle, which was good enough for him. He sat down in the chair that Haven had been settled in when he'd left the room with Yeremy and began prodding at his arm with the sharp little object.

When Merry emerged back in the room from the smaller room she used to house patients that needed to rest under her close watch, she looked rather surprised to see her solemn looking king bent over his arm, seemingly stabbing it repeatedly with a little needle. He looked up at the sound, and lifted an eyebrow. Merry lifted an eyebrow right back at him. He held his arm out as she neared, and she took the needle from him and began using it with much more precision to remove the last of the rocks.

"Haven?" He asked without looking at her.

"Sleeping." Merry replied, more intent on his task than anything else. She gestured vaguely to the small cot-like bed nestled in a nook in the room, out of his range of sight.

"And-" Sabine left the end of his next inquiry open to interpretation.

"Resting. She'll be fine tomorrow." The woman replied softly. She knew her king well enough to know who he meant.

"Good." He said, pulling his arm from her grasp before she could wrap it up. "Thank you Merry."

She tched at him. "You'll bleed everywhere." She scolded him, but he did his best to ignore her. He stood up, moving over to see how Haven was faring. She was indeed asleep. When would she wake up? He wondered. He needed a distraction. Maybe he could escort her home or something. That would be sufficiently distracting, yes. He examined her face, one slender thumb tracing the wound on his arm as he looked at her. What was it with her? She wasn't extraordinarily pretty, but yet she seemed fetching. From what he'd seen, she was quite shy, rather uninteresting, but she seemed so fascinating. It made no sense. It wasn't logical at all. She was just a silly little human who was too stupid to not notice a car coming at her. But still he'd saved her from such a fate. He had done it, but he still couldn't conceive why.

All this simply wasn't logical, and Sabine wasn't having it, but he had to put up with it nonetheless for some unspoken reason. Some unknown reason. And Sabine didn't like not knowing things.

Currently, Bowen was in his study, his brows furrowed, drawn tight in thought as he, seated in his big leather chair, had his head bent over a pile of papers, deeply focused on the task at hand. As any good adviser to an almost rapid king would, Bowen had always had spies keeping an eye on his brother for him at all times. Narrow-minded Narek would never even think about it, so it hadn’t been a problem so far. His brother only saw down his own nose. He didn’t look behind him, or to the sides, unless he was in an actual battle situation, but out and about his guard was usually down because he believed himself to arrogantly superior to any other. What he was forgetting, was that though earth was a safe place for them to be, there were other threats than what was physical. After having discovered Narek’s almost obsessive behaviour in keeping track of the ravenhaired lawyer, Alara Parker, Bowen had dug deeper.

And what had he discovered? Yeremy Markovitch was what. The woman god damned worked with the cunning demon adviser. If there was one thing Bowen despised, it was demons. Demons and their fucking cold indifference towards even their own kin. They enjoyed violence for the sadistic pleasure in executing it, and they probably the least honourable creatures Bowen had ever encountered. Now, of course, he was far from a fan of vampires who used innocents as food, and the vampire king, vilest of all, took women to his bed only to kill them in the same bout. Disgusting. All of them. His nose wrinkled up in distaste. What did this connection between the human and the demon adviser mean? Bowen and his people had followed this thread, and looking at Alara’s list of phone calls, she had called a number registered to a Yeremy Markovitch the same day Bowen had pressured her into finding a way to get Narek off the hook… again.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The female’s presence was apparently calming to his brother because the fact that he had become much easier to deal with the past week, was commonly known, but why? And how? Magic? No, humans didn’t possess even the slightest traces of magic abilities, unless she had paranormal blood in her family? No, couldn’t be. He hadn’t sensed anything like that on her. She has smelt human to him, aside from the slight traces of something else. The ‘else’, he now knew what… or who, was, but he didn’t feel satisfied yet. He didn’t have all the pieces of this puzzle. The whole situation was making him uneasy because his instinct told him something big was brewing, but he didn’t know what, only that these things had to be connected. He briefly wondered at the redhead his spies had spotted the vampire king with, and the blonde a spy had caught glimpses off with the demon king. Blonde, Redhead, Ravenhaired. What was he missing? It was buried in the back of his mind, but he knew these things were connected.

He scratched his cheek, shaking his head slowly. He needed a distraction from this to clear his mind. Where was Amy? The blonde was usually around him, ready to please and get pleasure in return. She wasn’t a whore, but nor was she a servant as such. Amy was more of an infatuated teenage girl who would do anything for the man she loved, so Bowen had brought her along to earth. She was a full-blooded Lykae, and she had thrown a fit when she’d thought he was leaving their world without her. She didn’t expect him to be faithful, merely that he gave her his attention once in a while. A fair deal, if you asked him. As far as anyone else knew, Amy was a servant. Bowen’s personal servant. A station that gave her a certain kind of immunity among the others. Everyone knew Bowe took good care of his servants, as oppose to Narek to who had to replace his quite often because their blood had begun staining the floor. Amy was not to messed with, not even by Narek. Sure, if Narek wanted Amy dead, Amy would die, but then he’d really have to consider whether he wanted to get on the bad side of his adviser. True, Bowen was loyal to his king and brother. Very much so, but there were lines you didn’t cross with Bowen, and Narek knew him well enough to be aware of them.

Just as he got out of his chair, Narek’s voice echoed through the house and Bowe frowned once more. Well, there went his break. Now he had to try and avoid a complete disaster. Narek was back as… well, Narek. He could tell merely by the tone of voice his brother sported. Wonderful, the adviser thought sarcastically, stretching before walking out of his study and taking his good time to reach the grand dining hall. What was Narek going to do, anyway? Kill his brother? Not very likely. Unless Bowen actually committed a serious crime, in some way betraying the throne, Narek, according to Lykae customs, would never be able to justify killing a member of his family. Of course, there was the fact that his brother, despite his arrogance, had to realize that he needed Bowen. Narek would literally be lost if not for Bowen. Would’ve probably lost the long war. Why? Because brute strength wasn’t enough to keep up with Vampires and Demons. Wits were more than just necessary. They were vital, and Narek was obviously unable to access his.

As he walked to the dining hall casually, he saw servants tripping over themselves to get there as fast as possible and he barely stifled a laugh. Not that their quite possible deaths were funny, but more that there was a sort of ironic humour in the fact that they came running like obedient little puppies when their master called. It was such a fitting image. The halls were deserted by the time Narek’s voice began drifting through the house again, and Bowe made a face. Fucking great. He could feel his own temper flaring. Bowen was reaching his limit of patience with his brother. There had actually been improvement, and now they were right back to square one. He felt like bellowing with rage, but kept an unsteady lid on it. No matter what, Bowen would never speak against the king in the presence of staff. That was simply out of bounds in every way, but damn, was he tempted. So fucking tempted. He closed his eyes for the fraction of a second, trying for his last slivers of patience. Sometimes he really, really missed he and Narek’s father. Rydstrom Tane had been an excellent king. He had been the perfect mix between Narek and Bowen.

Once Bowen reached the dining hall, he merely leaned his large body against the frame of the entrance, his unreadable gaze locked on Narek instantly, a disapproving air emanating from him despite his lack of actual expression. No one but Narek, and maybe Amy, would notice it. He spotted his blonde in the line of servants and almost growled then and there. Would have, if it hadn’t been for the handle he maintained on his temper. The smell of fear was permeating the room and his senses. He could easily make out Amy’s, too. She was trembling slightly, her heavenly, smooth skin pale, blue eyes wide in fright. Right in that moment, he wanted to attack his brother. He had never outright wanted to do that, but Amy spurred his strongest instinct; to protect his woman. Wait… his woman? Well, she was, he supposed, but they weren’t actually in a relationship. After all, she was of lowly birth, and would never be acceptable for him to be with. But then, why did the thought of her with another man, make his body tense, ready for a fight? If Narek so much as touched Amy, Bowen feared he would no longer be able to control himself and that shook him to the core.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed the captain of the guard with his daughter. They stood a little off to the side, but the captain's chin was up, his strong body proud, shoulders back. Belle was looking slightly pale, her gaze flickering over the selection of servants as she clutched her father tight, probably searching protection. Clever move. The captain was a respected man, and he didn't make mistakes. Narek would be a downright fucking ignorant moron if he engaged him, because he would lose one excellent man in his army. A man who had killed more demons and vampires than Bowen could count. A man who made Bowen proud to be a Lykae. A man who reminded him of their father. His daughter, on the other hand, was more of a wallflower than she should be. Bowen could sense her worry so clearly mixing with her fear.

She had come to care for the king's servant, James, and Bowen couldn't help ponder what complications that would provide. He was certain her father definitely wasn't going to approve. Besides, James was doomed from the second he became a servant at the castle, and only more so once he became the king's person one. Which was probably where Belle's worry stemmed from. All the while, regarding the two, Bowen had kept an eye on his Amy, and his brother as well. Multitasking at its best. He didn't trust his situation at all, and his muscled were tensed, ready for a fight. For both his and Narek's sake, he really hoped the king wouldn't even utter a direct threat to the woman, because Bowen has on edge, and anything could set him off right now.

Sabine Marx

After examining Haven for a few moments, Sabine deemed that she wouldn't be waking up at this very moment. He should go off and do something else. Instead of sending someone to fetch him a book, the daemon strode off to busy himself with selecting one. Reading was an enriching pastime. He lingered for a short while in the library, tracing spines with a finger before selecting a random tome from a shelf and letting it fall open in his hand. His eyes swept the words on the page briefly and he deemed the book good enough to read, snapped it shut, and set off for the small room again.

When he arrived at his destination, he saw the blonde human standing, her back to him. She was tucking the bedsheets back in their places. Sabine stood for a moment looking at her. He looked tired and weathered at the moment, cheeks more hollow than normal, his eyes slightly hooded. A long, eventful day, perhaps more eventful than one in a long while. Less strategy and more frustration. Sabine could think alright, thinking didn't bother him at all, but when his cognitional facilities deserted him, that was when stress built.

"I see you are awake, Miss Haven." He spoke suddenly, taking a few paces from the door, shifting the book from hand to hand. "Are you feeling well?"

As he spoke, the daemon tugged his sleeve down over his wounded forearm again. It was starting to prickle slightly, reminding its owner of its presence. "Do you wish to go home?" He asked after a beat, studying her. "I will escort you if you wish." The thin man cast his eyes around the room, looking away from Haven. He took a few more steps forward, reaching out and resting a hand on the counter top. He laid his novel down on it, squaring it against the corner of the marble top, so the bottom cover laid exactly in line with the rounded edge. Then he rested his elbows on the book, resting his chin on his folded hands, pale eyes flicking up after a few moments to the blonde. He blinked slowly, then sighed.

He still couldn't work it out. It made no sense. She was nothing more than an ordinary girl. And ordinary human girl. Young woman. Whichever. It comparison to his years, she was nothing more than a child. So how could such an insignificant speck be standing in his home? When had he ever allowed a human into his abode, taken a wound to protect one, made sure one was okay? Cared? He was Sabine he didn't care about anyone, specifically. Nothing more than the welfare of his kingdom, more or less, and all the interest that entailed, and he cared somewhat for his books. Enough to keep them in good condition at least. And for Lena, inn a way. In his way. And he could tell that it was changing, somehow.
His reaction had been inappropriate, not calm enough, not centered enough, not composed enough. But at the same time, there was nothing he could do about it, really. It had just...happened. A breach in self-control. And he couldn't help but think that it was Haven's fault. It had been, after all, two breaches in self control on the same day, the first to fling himself haphazardly in front of a car, and the second after seeing Lena. He was a king for the sun's sake. He didn't do such things. He shouldn't do such things. It wasn't proper.

But...was it entirely a bad thing?

James Dylor

The call was like a siren's song, but the compelling factor was fear, not amour. It said, you will do as I say, or you will no longer exist. Just another bloodstain on the floor for some poor creature to clean up. In this case, James. Or if the bloodstain was James, then someone else. He didn't know who. He'd never thought to contemplate who his replacement would be. Honestly, it didn't matter. it wouldn't effect him in anyway. it wasn't like any servant would purposely sabotage him to gain the position. it wasn't like anyone wanted to be the king's personal servant. That job was more dangerous than vcolcano-diving, it felt sometimes.

James hurried down the stairs, following the current of servants en-route through the servant corridors and stairwells. The line they formed was perfectly straight. each servant in his or her place, shoulder to shoulder with two partners. Or one, for the bookends. One of which was James. Every single servant showed the same profile, tilted down slightly, deferent to the master as a pack of dogs to the alpha. Because that was all they were, weren't they. A rag-tag group of cowed dogs. As he shifted in his spot, taking the chance of casting his bright blue gaze over his surroundings. He spotted Belle and her father and hurriedly looked away, back to the ground.

His Majesty the King started talking just at that moment. James's head was thudding as a stressed headache bloomed behind his eyes. He couldn't take that right now. To be honest, he couldn't take anything right now. Working alone had been alright, he'd been able to distract himself easily with his self assigned tasks. But now he was just a frothing mug of confusion and hurt and other such emotions that refused to simmer down at all. He wished he could throw something. breaking something would work just as well. Or both. At the same time.

It didn't help, listening to the King tell them all about how he was going to make life harder again. When the King stopped in front of a servant a few shoulders away from James, the young man tried to compose himself, and discovered that he'd been shuddering unconsciously. But somehow he knew that the reason he was shaking and the reason the servant before His Majesty was shaking were two entirely different reasons. James had just realized something. He wasn't happy with this. He was quite angry, in fact. One could say that he was royally pissed off, if they wanted to be accurate.

'If anyone would like to complain, step forward.'

James didn't quite know what had taken hold of him, usually he was a mild mannered boy. It was quite possibly that at any given encounter, he'd never spoken more than a dozen words to his King at a time. But at this moment he was sick of it. Sick of all of it. He didn't have a future, hell, he barely even had a present. Why shouldn't he? The electric blue eyes glanced over at Belle once before the owner of the eyes took a deep breath and took a small step forward. His voice was slightly tremulous, he couldn't help it, but for all its softness it seemed to carry through out the entire room. "I do."

He could feel eyes on him, but he couldn't see anything. Nothing at all. Blood had rushed up to his face, and he couldn't make out more than the general forms of everyone. Everything was kind of...dizzy looking. Surreal. But he wasn't focusing on his sight problems, he was busy forcing his next words from his gut.

"I'm fucking sick of this shit. Of-of cleaning your bloody messes of the floor. I don't have to tolerate you, My King" It wasn't a shout, if anything, by the tone it sounded pleasant and conversational, just slightly fearful, perhaps. But his body language was hostile, his fists clenched at his side, and his eyes fixed on his king. He lifted his chin slightly, his head tilted to one side, eyes still sightly pinpointed on the Lykae king. It was a dare. Come kill me. I want it. His face said. It's my turn to be a bloody stain on the floor for someone else to clean up. It's my turn to be done with all this shit. He linked his gloved hands behind his back, his posture perfectly straight. He resisted the urge to look at Belle again. It was a shame, he'd not get to tell her how much her short bout of friendship had meant to him. What it had shown him. How insignificant his life was, and futile. His life wasn't worth all this empty pain.

James was feeling quite treasonous today, apparently.

Lena gave a weak nod when Yeremy told her where Sabine was. She personally had no idea how much time had passed since she’d gone to see the king, but if Haven was to be awake, she was guessing about half an hour or so, judging by the dose Merry had given the freckled blonde. Or, judging by what Lena’s foggy vision had evaluated the dose to be. She really couldn’t be all that certain, so her sense of time all in all was a little messed up, and this room didn’t have an any clocks, making it all the more difficult. She didn’t even have the sun to go on. She supposed it didn’t really matter right now, anyway – it wasn’t like she was capable of doing much. She didn’t like lying here, though. This inactivity was making her feel lazy and well, like the weak Halfling she truly was. Something she strove to prove that she wasn’t. Well, not as much as others anyway. Lena didn’t appear strong on the outside, but she had an inner strength most didn’t, and she a strong will. Plus, lying here, she didn’t have anything to distract her mind from the horrid memories.

A book would be nice, for when Yeremy left, anyway, and she had no idea how long he felt like staying with her. It was probably just the guilt that made him stay either way, and that wouldn’t last forever. Then he leaned in, and Lena’s eyes widened slightly in response. What was he doing? Her gaze fell to his lips as they curved into a sly smile even as his words surprised her. Was he wanting to… lead a conversation with her? She searched his face for any clues to figuring out what was going on in his head. Sometimes the adviser was extremely difficult to read, and today was a rollercoaster of new impressions, making it all the harder. Unsure of what to do, Lena nodded thoughtfully, and a little hesitantly. “His majesty has been very… preoccupied the last week’s time, my lord,” she told the adviser, looking up at him pensively. Yeremy hadn’t been around much in said time, so he probably wouldn’t have noticed the change in Sabine.

“And…” she then continued, glancing at the door connecting Merry’s and this one, “I do not feel certain whether she is the cause or the result.” Huh… talking was nice. Weird. She hardly cared for conversations. Even with Sabine, Lena wasn’t one to talk much. Of course, maybe that was due to the fact that she needed to ask for permission first with the king, but still. She supposed part of her was expecting Yeremy to reprimand her for speaking without permission, and it made her watch him all the more attentively, awaiting his response to her slight breach of etiquette. Sure, Lena held onto etiquette more than most, but Yeremy was much higher ranking than herself, and that demanded a certain show of respect. Still, Lena felt like she could let go a little when she was alone with Yeremy. That didn’t mean she was right to, though, and so she anxiously awaited his reaction.

When Yeremy offered to get her whatever she might need, she couldn’t help sending him a warm, thankful smile, even as she shook her head. The smile quickly faded, though, as her mind told her he only offered so that he could leave in a manner that would not be rude or make him feel more guilty. She dropped her gaze to his feet on the ground, taking a deep breath before she tenderly said, “do you wish to leave, my lord?” Even to Lena, the question sounded desperate and pathetic, needy and weak. She might as well have begged “please don’t leave me,” which was really what she felt like. She didn’t really want to outwardly show it, though, but it appeared she wasn’t to have any control over herself today, and it bothered her a little, because for some reason, she kept waiting for him to laugh at her for being easy and gullible, but she couldn’t help it. She sensed change – the good kind, and she grasped at whatever part of it she could, desperate not to lose it. Taking it away from her now, would be like putting food in front of a starving child and then… removing it. She didn’t think her heart would be able to take it.

---

Belle couldn’t remember the last time the king had scared her this much, and that was even in spite of the fact that she was with her father who would no doubt be a very capable opponent to the king, but then… it wasn’t herself she feared for. It was James, and her father wasn’t exactly going to defend her friend… if he was even still that. Gods, she hoped so. Because she would never stop caring about him. She knew that much; James was the only real friend she’d ever had outside of family. And James didn’t even have that. She couldn’t imagine the amount of betrayal he felt. She’d spent hours searching for him, but he hadn’t come out from wherever he’d been hiding, hadn’t called back to her, and in spite of the fact that she understood him, it still hurt so much. Even if she was truly the one at fault. Gods, when had she started caring what a lowly servant thought of her? She clutched her father closer as she watched the king pace, his words like daggers to her heart.

No matter when it had been, she cared a whole lot. Belle knew James was especially dear to her, even after only this short period of time, and her heart was pounding faster, her blood coursing through her body at an alarming pace, the rush of it nearly deafening her. She didn’t even notice Bowen showing up during the speech, despite her keen senses. Her father had a firm grip on her, keeping her with him. She thought he could sense her distress and was trying to keep her from getting involved, but she didn’t care. She’d claw her way free if she had to, she wasn’t letting anything happen to James. She had betrayed him enough already, and she’d be there if he needed her, even though she knew he’d never ask for her help. After the king’s last words silence descending upon the room and Belle unconsciously held her breath in dread. There was something in James’ eyes she hadn’t seen before and it worried her. He wasn’t keeping his head down any longer… and then he stepped forward. She didn’t even notice her own gasp of surprise.

Bowen raised both his eyebrows when James stepped forward, his two words ringing out in the deafening silence. That was… unexpected to say the least, and unfortunately, the pup wouldn’t live through it. Bowe, as oppose to his brother, actually admired the kid’s guts, and more than that, he was glad attention had been taken from his Amy and he caught her beautiful eyes for a brief moment, silently letting her know he’d take care of her and she visibly relaxed, which stroked his ego quite a bit. Protection was second nature to, discounting his brother apparently, all Lykae, and Amy was a treasured possession. Now, wondering, Bowe’s gaze moved to James and then to Belle. At that, his eyes narrowed. The girl looked ready to do whatever she deemed necessary right now, and that worried him. She was still just a pup, only about a century old, and frail for a Lykae. She could take a lot more than a Halfling like James, but that didn’t mean she was even close to matching any of the other full-blooded Lykaes in the room, even his Amy.

Then James’ words continued and Bowen’s vigilant gaze rested on the male pup once more, quickly realizing something. The kid did truly have a death wish. What the hell had happened? James had always had a stubborn will, fighting to stay alive at every turn, and now, after all his initial struggles, he was willing to die? Why? He didn’t miss the fact that James had been avoiding looking at Belle, and that’s when it hit… the captain was back. Of course. James knew about Belle. Hm, well that sure did make things a tad more complicated, didn’t it? Now James’ death would hurt Belle, and Bowe quite liked the little blonde. He scratched his stubbled cheek in thought briefly, contemplating the situation. He couldn’t do much for James at this point. The kid had dug his own grave and was merely waiting for Narek to shove him into it.

Belle knew what was coming by the end of James’ final sentence, and her body tensed, her heart feeling the pang already. She knew what this day was; the day of James’ death. Narek wasn’t going to let this slide. He wasn’t in the habit of letting anything slide, and especially not outright disobedience. She could hardly breathe, was heaving for air in a pace much too fast. The captain tightened his grip on her slight form. How easily he read her. It didn’t matter though, because the second Narek began speaking, her breath hitched and she knew she couldn’t watch him kill her only friend. She’d rather die herself, despite the fact that James had caused this himself. It didn’t matter, because she had pushed him out there. She knew she had. It was all her damned fault for not explaining everything to him sooner. She took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself, but it wasn’t helping. She felt tears pressing at the corners of her eyes and was silently sobbing, her body reacting as if she was actually crying.

Soon, the king’s hand was moved and she distantly heard herself screaming, “NO!!” while she, with strength she didn’t know she had, flung herself from her unexpecting father’s arms, and with the speed only a full blooded, small Lykae as herself would be able to manage, she sped to James, her father’s enraged bellow ringing out behind her just as she shoved James out of the way. In the process, however, Belle took the hit intended for him, the king’s hand landing on her left cheek, the momentum spinning her body halfway before she landed on her hands and knees on the floor before him. She hadn’t even noticed the loud, distinct crack of her cheek bone, only the smack of the hit. Her eyes were swimming with pain, and she couldn’t control tears from spilling over as she tried to breathe. Even that was troublesome as her neck had taken quite the toll as well, snapping to the side at the hit. Had she been even slightly more fragile, her spinal cord would have cracked. As it was, however, Belle was moments from unconsciousness, sheer stubbornness keeping her awake to utter two, simple, choked words; “please… don’t…” With that, the world around her disappeared, going entirely black as her body crumbled, falling completely to the floor, limp.

Bowen tensed when he saw movement from Belle, but he hardly had time to react before his brother’s hand had connected with the young female’s cheek, and the loud crack accompanying the hit made his eyes widen slightly. Fuck. Had he broken her neck? No. No way, he couldn’t. Belle had grown into her immortality – she couldn’t be killed that easily, and rightly enough, she kept herself lifted on her hand and knees, clearly having trouble even breathing. Clearly, he’d understated the amount of care she felt for the servant. A servant who, compared to her, was worthless. This wasn’t going to go down well at all. He hardly heard her soft plea over the captain’s bellowing. The huge male was completely turned, the beast flickering over him like a shadow. His nails had lengthened into claws, his body growing bigger and taller, ready to fight off anyone to come between him and his daughter. Bowen personally kept his distance. The captain was a force to be reckoned with even when he wasn’t turned, and now? Well, not you’d be an idiot to stand in his way. Then again, Narek was a complete fool at times.

He watched as the captain rushed forward, surprisingly avoiding the king as he lifted his daughter’s prone form into his arms, his eyes murderous and glowing. Personally, the adviser’s temper was hitting an unusual high. What the fuck was his brother even anymore? He clenched his hands just as the captain growled in forewarning, eyes locked on the king, “the last fucking time!” All the while, the turned male was checking his daughter, but he stayed put, apparently deciding her wounds were not fatal. Instead, he faced off against Narek, clearly a soundless warning for the king. Bowen growled low in his throat, finally entering the scene, just to let everyone know he was there. Forrean may be angry about his daughter, and the Lykae instinct in him excused his treasonous actions so far, but one move against the king, and he had Bowen to deal with as well. For now, Bowen turned to the servants, in particular his Amy, growling with authority, “leave.” With that, they all scrambled from the room with as much speed as they could each muster.

The fact that his brother looked completely shocked at his own actions was not lost on Bowen. In fact, it was all that kept him from tearing the man a new one. Centuries and centuries of unnecessary killings had finally caused Bowen to reach his limit. He had had it. He had more or less tried to ignore it himself, knowing that his brother was a lost cause, but he had suddenly stopped. He had actually had a week of not a single person’s blood on his hands, and now he thought to come back bigger and badder? Well, Bowe didn’t play like that. This time, he was going to really take things up with his murderous king. Lykaes might be naturally loyal – almost too much so – but that did not make it okay to abuse this trait, which was something he had let Narek do way too much since he had become king. He vaguely recalled his father telling him to take care of Narek; to help him into kinghood and to make sure his temper did not rule him. So far, Bowen had failed their father, but not anymore.

That, however, did not mean he was going to let anyone else even touch his brother. Narek was still king, and to anyone but Bowen, that commanded a certain level of respect. Which was why he was currently inserting himself in events. Once he reached the king, Bowen watched Forrean warily, his gaze observant; evaluating the state of his fellow Lykae. He had really gone all out, so Bowen had to say he was surprised the guy hadn’t attacked yet, especially since the guy was a warrior, much like his father. He had been born and forged in battle; a perfect weapon and formidable opponent. Speed, strength and skill made Bowen wonder if even he would be able to take on the angry Lykae Captain. He nodded once when Narek spoke, a little surprised his brother had actually chosen to utilize the cognitive functions of his brain. It was a rare thing indeed. Forrean was completely quiet, although his gaze was glowing, and unnervingly focused on Narek. It made Bowen a tad uneasy, but at the same time he was now witnessing a serious amount of control. It was impressive, honestly.

“Easier said than done,” he murmured as Narek ran outside. He noticed Forrean twitching, obviously intending to follow the king, and Bowen instinctively reacted, his movements quick as he rushed to block the captain’s path. “Forrean, you need to calm yourself.” He said, thinking he might be able to reason with him. It seemed he had a better control of his beast than most, so one could only hope. “She is alive, is she not?” The captain paused, frowning at Bowen as if trying to understand what he was saying. Bowen stayed where he was, not even moving an inch. This might resemble trying to reason with a rapid dog. Then suddenly, the captain nodded, looking down at the messy bundle of blonde hair that was currently Belle’s face. “See,” Bowen said, unable to hide his relief. “No reason to commit treason then, is there?” Forrean growled in response, and Bowen sighed. It was hard, trying to calm someone else, when he himself was on the verge of letting his temper take over.

“If you fight the king, and loose, what will happen to her?” Bowen said, trying a different approach. Forrean stiffened immediately, and for a moment there, Bowen thought he was going to attack. Instead, the male put his daughter carefully down onto the floor, and looked at Bowen. “Protect?” He was able to growl, and Bowen nodded, assuming he wanted him to protect Belle. Then Forrean ran off out the door, heading for the forest. Obviously, someone needed to let off steam by himself. Bowen let a gust of wind pass his lips. Great, now he had a mad king, an unconscious blonde, and a suicidal servant to handle. Wasn’t life grand? Sometimes he wondered how he’d ever managed to live this long, because right now he felt old. “Narek, get back in here. You and I need to talk.” He called, knowing his brother would hear him clearly enough. Then he put a level, scorching look on James. “Do you think I’ve been keeping you alive all these years, just to see you practically commit suicide?” He almost growled, taking part of his anger out on the pup. “Get out of here, boy. You’re not dying anytime soon, understand?” Mostly because Belle had almost given her life for him. She would not be happy to find him dead when she woke up.

He had noticed James through this entire ordeal, noting the way he was looking at Belle, so Bowen, feeling gracious, lifted an eyebrow. “She’s alive. A hit like that won’t kill her. Hurts like hell, though. Now go.” Belle, lying on the floor next to him, remained completely motionless.

Sabine Marx

Such an odd human. Was he okay? What a question to ask. He needed to keep a better handle on his features, it seemed. He couldn't have himself looking tired and worn out. Such a weakness simply wasn't a good thing to broadcast on his face. He couldn't help but feel them, there was no cure for the occasional bout of tiredness or stress, no matter how much he wished there was one. To rid himself of the inconveniences would be delightful. Sadly it probably never would be so. The tall blonde arranged a ghost of a smile on his lips and tipped his head a quarter of a centimeter to one side.

"Oh, I'm quite alright. The duties of a king like to scar my visage." He responded vaguely. It was quite true though. The common people didn't have to shoulder the burden of leadership and all the work and thought that were attached to the curse. Especially during this never ending war. Each move had to be meditated and all retaliations analyzed quickly, and the move exacted perfectly. Then one had to go back and do it again with a new set of circumstances. Sabine liked to be deeply involved in the matters of the war, perhaps past the point in which it was healthy. He needed the stimulation, to be honest.

But there was such a thing as too much stimulation. This day's activities had been a touch too much for him, admittedly. And it showed overmuch.

After a few more moments, in which Sabine stared ponderously at the floor, the daemon pushed off the counter and rocked back on his heels, taking his book with him. He passed it between his hands a few times, following the lines of the binding and paper. Then he made a small sound in his throat, his fading partial smile graciously retuning to vividness. "Trivial matters." he dismissed any troubles that might have crossed his face. "Nothing you need to worry about." He said, stepping around the counter. "Anyway, do you require anything to eat? I"m sure the cook wouldn't be bothered to make anything you like." He said gratuitously. The cook would have to deal with a breach in whatever plans he'd made for the evening meal. Too bad for him.

James Dylor

James had his eyes fixed almost excursively on the prone form of the lykae girl who'd just saved him. The Captain of the Guard's daughter. Feeling quite cowed after his near death experience and the (probable) death of someone dear to him, when Bowen's angry words focused on him, the boy shrank under the calm onslaught. He rocked on his feet, his body urging him to do what he was told. He didn't want to though, he needed to make sure Belle was alright. He couldn't just leave unless he knew one way or another.

As if the lykae adviser had read his mind, the man assured him that Belle was indeed still alive. Relief flooded his little body. "Yessir." He mumbled, his eyes glazed with the thoughts inside his head, and he stumbled out of the room. His feet seemed to walk over each other of their own accord, purposely tripping him up just so his outstretched hand could catch him. He had no clue where he was going, but he was going there as fast as his shell-shocked self could get there. his mind was off somewhere else, trying to properly comprehend what was going on. That he'd nearly died of his own intentions and by that same action nearly indirectly killed another, who'd been the one to spur the foolish thought process in the first place, even though it had been completely her fault.

After turning a corner, the boy nearly ran into an older male servant who looked quite surprised to see him. While James tried to catch his balance, the other was staring at him like he was naught but a ghost. Then the man hurried off, presumably to inform everyone that the stupid little pup had survived the King's anger, gossip that would add to the already interesting speculation about the entire situation surround the Captain of the Guard's daughter taking the blow meant for James.

James, unperturbed,continued his trip to nowhere. Somehow his unconscious dropped him off in the musty quiet of the library in a tight corner where two bookshelves didn't manage to perfectly conjoin. With no more thoughts, and all together too many of them to keep track of, James promptly fell asleep.

Bowen watched James run out of the room, his dark brown eyes keeping track of every movement made by the pup. He honestly didn’t know what to do with the mess everything was becoming, but he did know fixing things was on his shoulders as usual. Oh, the job of an adviser. No wonder he was on edge currently, his beast scratching furiously at the bars of its cage. Just as James was moving out the door, Bowen heard his brother coming back inside through the window he had just broken for no reason whatsoever except to call more attention to himself. The adviser’s attentive gaze moved to rest on Narek as he came up to stand beside him and began talking, "Brother, I did not fear you would fail and am glad you really didn't. I would have preferred the little sparring match though." In response, Bowen gave a slight nod, moving to pick up Belle from the hard floor. “You forget the difference between sparring and fighting to the death, Narek. You often do.” His voice was calm yet cold and sharp as steel. It was a tone he often took when doing business, and rarely when dealing with his brother, but these were not regular times.

Once more, Bowen felt glad he’d had the foresight to get everyone out of the room, because this conversation was not intended for others. He raised an eyebrow when Narek spoke of the blonde now in Bowen’s arms. “She is a full-blooded, grown Lykae female. She doesn’t need a doctor unless her intestines are hanging out of her. As for the captain, I believe letting him cool down after you almost killed his daughter, would be wise.” At that, Bowe couldn’t help smiling wryly, a sarcastic, dry one that did in no way reach his eyes, before looking down at Belle, smile falling away instantly. He needed to put her down in a bed so she could heal up comfortably. Besides, he really didn’t want to carry her around all day, and he had been asked to protect her in this vulnerable state. Hell, he still wondered what in the world would possess the youngling to interfere like that. So far all he’d come up with was that her Lykae instinct had taken over, but honestly that wasn’t actually as common with females as it was with males. So Bowen was puzzled. As if he didn’t have enough puzzles to solve as it was.

Before Bowen could move, leaving his king and brother, said male began speaking once more and it stopped the adviser completely in his tracks. Had Narek actually suggested a non-deadly punishment for the pup? Bowen could hardly believe his own ears. Maybe today would be the day to generally confront the king about his recent activities. Calling out for Amy, his own girl, he waited only seconds before she was there, collecting Belle into her arms. “Get her to my quarters, place her on the bed and do not leave her. Call for me if you run into any problems.” She nodded dutifully, glancing nervously at Narek before running off with the smaller blonde. Once they were out of sight, Bowen turned to face Narek, closing the door behind him. “An exile to where, exactly?” He asked, thinking over the possibilities. James had to be punished, no doubt about that, but he wanted to make sure it would be in a way that would ensure the boy’s survival.

“On another note, brother, we need to talk. Firstly, where has your head been lately?” He began walking towards Narek. “For a time there I thought you were actually trying to control your temper for once. You know, pull down the number of deaths you deliver to faithful servants and guards a week. Then you turn around and do… this.” He spread his arms out to indicate the room as he stopped in front of Narek. As his arms fell to his sides once more, he shook his head, sighing. “It has something to do with the raven haired lawyer, does it not? Alara Parker? The woman you have been following around as of late. Narek, you are king, and you can do as you please, but that does not mean it is always the right thing to do. I realize you lack the most important Lykae instinct; to protect, but I sincerely wish you would at least consider your actions once in a while.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You are far too old to act out like a spoiled pup, and I am too old to keep cleaning up your messes.”

Bowen was very aware of the fact that he was telling his brother off, but hell, their father was no longer around to do it, and Narek had always needed that guiding hand. Fact was, Bowen was sick of it. It was a wonder he had no physically attacked his brother by now, because his entire body was tensed, ready to attack. He had enough control of keep himself steady though, but he was instinctively preparing for Narek. Part of Bowen wanted the fight, the beastly Lykae part of him, but the other part was holding back, reminding of loyalty to the crown, as well as loyalty to his brother in general. Blood was thicker than anything to Bowen, which was probably the only reason he had not confronted his brother this way before.

james Dylor

He'd tried every possible way he could think of. If he couldn't find a working way to get word to her soon he'd have to leave, find some place where he could have some semblance of a new opportunity to be a human. Maybe even a lower middle class human at some point. The small amount of money he'd amassed had been gone in an instant, lost to the endless slough of survival. He was living off the local soup kitchen and the homeless shelter at the moment, but he didn't think he could live that way for much longer. He was a worker by nature, and he was going mad trying to find a job. He wasn't used to the human world. He didn't have any school credits, or any kind of resume to find a job, since it had been a very long time since he'd been in school, and he only looked to be fresh out of high school. No one would believe that he'd been out of school for over fifty years. How long had it been now? He couldn't even remember most of his very young years, when he still lived with his mother.

he sat on a bench at the very edge of the park. He stared fixedly at the ground, tugging on his fingers as he worried. He'd carved out an hour from everyday to sit and wait and hope Belle would come. He'd tried as many ways as he could thing of to communicate with her, send some kind of note or something, but he couldn't return to the manor. It was dangerous to even try. But he did want to see Belle again, and thank her. The last time he'd seen her she'd been unconscious, right after she saved him from death. He was still a bit irked about the whole matter, he'd be over and done if things had happened like they were supposed to happen, but then again, maybe this was the way things were supposed to happen. He had been allowed to go back to being a human. He didn't like to think of it as being banished, that sounded negative, and he needed to keep his spirits up as much as he could.

Mostly because his nerves and his belly were hell bent on banding together and dragging him down. The single meal a day and not nearly enough sleep coupled with obsessive worrying was not doing much for his psyche or his health. And somehow in his mind Belle was supposed to fix things. At the very least, after he thanked her and satisfied his guilt on that front he could go and try to make a meaningful living with the hundred and hundreds of years hopefully left in his lifespan. Never mind that he'd have to start over every five or ten years because his body simply didn't age like a human's would and he didn't need anyone becoming suspicious, it was a new start, and new life.

The lad forced himself to slowly relax into the bench, he needed to not work himself up too much. If she had gotten the note, if she was coming, then he'd get to see her and things would be as they were meant to be. But if she didn't then that was how things would have to be, and he would have to let go and leave. He'd forget eventually anyway. Instead of worrying his fingers, James switched to fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Because of the soup kitchen, he hadn't had to worry about food, so he spent the money he had on clothes from the Goodwill just down the street from the park. He had no registration or anything as a homeless person at the time, and foolishly hadn't pressed for anything and just found a couple fifty-cent T-shirts and a pair of jeans to wear. He looked scruffy, not to mention tired, and he was slumped in the seat, just like a normal teenage boy. All he was missing was headphones or a cell phone. Shaking off some of the mannerisms had been difficult, but James found himself slowly relaxing back into the much gentler clasp of human life, even if it was toilsome and wearying.

It was better to be a little hungry and tired, but not worrying that death was just around the corner if he wasn't perfect or just plain unlucky at the moment. He could manage. Maybe even flourish. Someday. But one step at a time, and that first step was Belle. That thank you and most-likely good-bye would be difficult, but he'd manage. For his future. And for her, so she wouldn't worry. She could continue on her life as well. If she was even worried. He was struck with another pang of doubt, and other worry that Belle had received one of his correspondences but was ignoring him, maybe she'd had a change of heart, she didn't want to talk to some stupid half-ling human.

But that would just have to be the ay it was. whatever it was. And he'd have to deal with it, like he had to deal with everything that was thrown at him.