《The Fairest (Book #1)》11: Special
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The servant scuffed, making a face of someone utterly offended. "You mind your manners if you wish to keep your tongue."
He sharply limped away towards the kitchen leaving her gut dropping with a new pure horror. That name was quite familiar in the kingdom as the name never to be spoken. The son of the late queen, this prince was said to have an uncurable defect that tainted the King's bloodline. Despite it known of him being confirmed Cleared by the gods and the Crown, it was his special hobbies that frightened her the most.
Prince Gideon was the prince who indulged in strange perversions, but Prince Grisonce was the prince who indulged in odd experimentations and the Strange were known to be his test subjects.
Mageia felt her chest near to explode. I need to leave now!
The manservant was fumbling around in the kitchen, unaware that his full attention should be on the so-called criminal-slash-witch standing in the room. With great ease, she finally freed herself and sat the shackles quietly on the sofa. Within seconds she was at the door unlocking the bolt and pushed the door with all her might.
She gasped. It wouldn't budge. She tried the bolt again then searched for another locking system only to notice the knob. The fancy knob was brand new, a huge contrast to the old wooden door.
The key, she thought and cringed hearing the manservant clear his throat.
She spun to face him, and he stood with one hand on his waist and the other dangling a key on a chain. "You must think I'm daff."
"Not even close, sir," she said hoping good manners would keep him from striking her. If he had the permission to do so.
He held out a hand and sighed. "Give it to me."
She shifted feet, poking out her bottom lip in defeat, and dropped the red stylish pin into his palm. A quick look of familiarity crossed his eyes before it dissolved into disgust as if it were full of germs.
"Where did you get such a fancy pin?"
"I picked it off the Commander."
"Eron?" he said. She nodded. He sighed and handed her an icy cold cloth. "Here. It's for your face."
"Uh...thank you," she said placing the cool cloth to her swollen cheek. She grimaced but gave an inner sigh of relief.
"Are you hungry?"
She fell in tune with her grumbling stomach she had been trying to ignore. "I don't want your food. I don't want to be here. Grisonce is-,"
"Prince Grisonce, young lady."
"Whatever. On the streets, he is known to be someone best to avoid like his brother."
"Stepbrother," said a voice from the far back of the room.
They both turned their attention to the young prince who had entered the quarters from somewhere silent. He was in plain attire, far from anything noble and years apart from royal. His head of curls was a mess on his head, flopping this way and that as he relieved himself of the bundle in his arms on a nearby bench. He retrieved his clipboard thick with parchment, stuck an inked quill behind his ear, and scurried towards them.
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"I like the distinction," the Strange Prince said as if his tongue was too big for his mouth.
"Everything went okay, Gris?" the manservant said.
"Yes, but your team w-will be assembling soon for your meeting," he said. "B-best get down there."
The servant's mouth opened and closed a few times, feet shifting, and wide eyes glancing at her. The Prince looked at her as if just noticing she was there and frowned. "We will be fine, Limp."
"She just unshackled herself and tried to escape. She stole something from the Commander, which I think you should return by other means before he notices."
He handed him the red pin that received a frown of confusion. "This is different."
"And Dargany said the Commander had her, so return her within an hour, no later."
Mageia studied the prince and supposed heir to the throne. Tall and slim with light brown eyes upon smooth amber skin that screamed for masculine hair. The boy did not look threatening, but one would never know. She searched the parts of his neck she could see and saw no Crescent Moon Mark.
Of course, he didn't have one. If he did have one for his stuttering, his birthright would've been removed years ago. Ugh Royals, she scuffed.
"Limp, we will be fine, right Lady Mageia?"
"She didn't even bow. Bow in respect, young lady," Limp said with a voice of someone who loved criticizing people.
She gave a quick curtsey which made the prince give a slight chuckle. "Again, we w-will be fine. Now go on. We have a Ceremony to p-prepare for."
"An hour no longer. The girl cannot be trusted."
"Um... I'm standing right here, Limp," she smirked trying out the man's nickname.
The man's lips twitched, and his eyes scrutinized her existence before handing over the key to the door. Prince Grisonce stashed it in his left pocket and Mageia mentally shook her head at his stupidity. At least hang it from the neck to give her a harder chance of stealing it.
"If you need anything, just ring your emergency bell."
"I know Limp. Now go. I order you to go," he said dismissing him with a hand.
Limp's head raised with a hint of arrogance. He gave her one last eyeful then left the way the Prince entered. She took a few steps backwards to get a better look and saw a door slip close behind the thick curtain.
That's when she felt the Strange Prince's eyes on her. Her shoulder and arm muscles tensed up prepared for some unseen attack. But the Prince just stood still, eyes soaking in her face, especially her purple eyes, something she had grown used too as of late.
"I do not want to be one of your test subjects," she said short and direct. "I am not afraid to harm you if necessary."
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She didn't expect the laugh that followed. Like a calm tidal wave. She frowned, feeling warm goosebumps along her arms. He shook his head causing the nest on his head to bounce. "You need not fret, Lady Mageia."
"I'm no lady," she snorted.
He gave a smile drowning in so much kindness, Mageia bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling back. "And I'm no prince. Just call me Gris."
She shook her head, but not out of disrespect but of the intimacy of the permission. Before she could respond, he gestured for her to follow.
"Come. We have much to diss-cuss in such little time."
"About?"
"You."
"Me?" she said.
"Yes. You. You are par-par- huh special," he said unable to get the word out.
"Special? I don't understand..."
"You will not if you continue standing there," he said ascending.
She hesitated, glancing at the double doors then the back door, but there was something interesting about the boy that made her follow. Why would a prince be interested in someone like her?
At the top of the stairway, Prince Grisonce did a quick blessing to a shrine to Holy Rasaal then disappeared around the banister. She stepped onto the second level and gasped. There were so many books, scrolls, experimental items, tables, armchairs, and stuff she didn't know the name of to fill two houses. Walking further into the Prince's study, she noticed a thick curtain along the back wall where four tables sat with straps for holding a person down. Physician and coroner utensils sat neatly in one area and her gut churned.
She halted. "You keep your test subjects strapped down?"
Prince Grisonce shuffled through some things; mind occupied but not enough to respond.
"The majority of my test s-subjects have already gone to the Halls before arriving here," he said.
"Majority..."
He chuckled and approached with great swiftness that forced her to back away. She glanced at the stairway and the boy held up his hands for calm.
"Relax, my lady. The last alive person I had str-strapped down was for a bone fracture s-surgery. And that was years ago," he said. He narrowed his eyes a bit confused. "What do people say about me? Y-you look afraid."
"I'm not afraid of you, I'm..." she then shook her head. "They say you've gone insane like your mother." The mention of the late queen brought a dark shadow across his face. He looked away and gave a long sigh that sent chills up her spine.
"Never mention her, please."
If I do, what're you going to do about it? She wanted to say. It sat on her tongue wishing to be said, but the darkness forming in his eyes made her bite her tongue.
"Do you understand?" he ordered, his average voice elevating.
"Sure, Your Highness," she managed to say, eyes wide.
This boy's head is not on straight.
He tugged on his plain dingy vest, cleared his throat, and brushed pass her to meddled with the items on the table. She then spotted a gold seal opener on the end of the table and her instinct forced her to snatch it and slip it into the pocket of her dress.
"Now I know you wonder why you are here," he said finally turning his attention to her.
"You said special..."
"I did. Come here."
She furrowed her brow and glanced at the stairway one last time before edging closer. About an arm's length she kept, but the boy shook his head. He grabbed the book he had and closed the distance. She tensed up, nose tickling by his scent of spices, seasonings, and parchment as if he'd been in the kitchens lying in a pool of books.
"This book here is the Book of Legends."
Mageia gave a sharp intake. "You mean the ancient book about the Fairests?"
He bopped his head smiling. "Yes. That one. You know of it?"
"It's said to be very rare or maybe lost, sometimes forbidden to mention."
"Well, our Royal Temple possessed a copy and here it is," he said.
Mageia couldn't help but gently touch the book and its old thick parchment and inked cursive. It appeared ancient with a threat to crumble if handled improperly.
"Not too many p-people know about this sacred book. How do you know of it, may I ask?"
Mageia gave a sigh washed in past sorrow. "My parents... they almost knew every inch of it cover to cover. They would tell me the stories within it and pray to the gods from it."
"Stories like what?" he said leaning casually on the table.
"The Old Gods. Hamino. The five Fairests, part god part human with the ability to commune with the Divine Six and travel between the Serene and the realm. They made the stories sound...unreal."
"But they are real," the Prince said as she sucked in the loosely bounded book and its cloth like parchment.
"How do you know they aren't just stories made up by daff old men?"
"Because a Fairest stands before me now," he said.
For a second, she thought she heard wrong until his words fully processed. Her eyebrows shot up in horror and disbelief. The boy just committed blasphemy and now he wanted to pull her into his scheme. Whatever that scheme may be, she wasn't falling for it.
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TWIG - The System Can't Save Me, But It Can't Stop Me Either [a gamelit-portal-fantasy-poem by eric river]
This is an experimental new type of fictionIt's a gamelit verse novel, a brand new concoctionFollow Twig as he rebels against his status screenAnd learn why its messages are always cold and mean Like my main work, "Hero's Song," its form follows a ruleevery rhyme and syllable is taken from that schoolsee the prologue for a quick guide on this new formatthis will be a first draft, so I hope you're fine with that [participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]
8 349Apollyon's Curse
Within the pages of folklore and fantasy, tales of people who chase after the dream of eternity, of living forever, rarely find a happy ending. They are either struck by the grim truth of reality, give up, and return to mortality or face a ghastly realization of their wishes. The latter often the worse fate, as they come to realize, only far too late, that what they sacrificed was worth far more than the time they gained. Ultimately, the common thread in these stories is that “immortality is as much a curse as it is a blessing”. People either realize it early and give up or are doomed to inevitably face its consequences. In the world Enrich lives in, that saying does hold merit. Every pathway towards eternal life has shackles of its own. They bring those high above down to the ground, evening the playing field. It is thanks to these fundamental laws that ambitious mortals are able to defy the heavens and achieve immortality themselves. The variety of methods result in each of these bindings varying in intensity and degree of freedom. Enrich’s path doesn't break this trend. Though, after what he did to himself, most wouldn’t even consider him a living thing anymore. On the day of his ascension, a world’s worth of souls were melted and recast. On that day, the human’s path had reached its conclusion, recast into Apollyon. An artifact, a weapon, is eternal, after all. As for the curse? The payment will be made, as it must. So why not offload the curse to someone else? Mortals throw their lives away for all manner of petty reasons, noble or otherwise, especially in desperation. Eventually, someone will be willing to foot the bill. Most will if given the chance. The bait is far too tempting, after all. Power, status, knowledge. All at their fingertips. If only they say “yes”. And Apollyon is very willing to help any lost souls. If they give up everything in return, of course.
8 116Transmigrated Into A Game
I'm an 80 years old virtuoso. I died satisfied with my life, but I wake up as a 10 years old in a world of MMORPG: Modern Fantasy. Available on Wattpad as well. Enjoy Reading!
8 136After Days Chronicles: A Cabin By A Lake And The Things Beyond.
They had come to this place in a mysterious way. A tempest in time whisked her to him then him and her to here, a cabin by a lake, on the top of a mountain, in a valley that no map remembered. Earth, after the Breaking, is a middle ages, modern day, post apocalyptic cluster-fuck. All living things have been altered, in one way or another. The human race is not exempt. Although most of its changes are physical, not mental. Nor moral, for that matter. This is just one of the many stories of the time known as The After Days. 'So, you control the essence?' "No. I give the thing that is, hmm... the essence inside, the bility, hmmph, the a-bilty to move and shape. I tell what I need and they do, or do not if they not liking it." 'Okay let's see if I get this straight then, you touched the rope and gave its essence the ability to move like a snake, then you asked it to do what it did and it...?' "NO! I speak with mind to the hemp and vine, gave its essence the ability. Yes. Ask it to help me. It say sorry for the hurt. Not you I say, not you, you not hurt me. He make you to hurt! He hurt. You no hurt. Help me, free me. Please. Get me keys. It touched the blood on me. I felt it, sad. I felt it anger. I not ask it to. It kill Mekel, I not ask, but I knew, it, was... umm... chance... poss-a-bility. Nature knows. Nature does. I not force nature, I only ask for help."
8 158I asked God to reincarnate me as a werewolf
Warning ⚠️ this is the first novel I've ever written healthy criticism is accepted Mark is a 38 year old orphan and an 5 foot 10 American and an otaku for life and while he was on his way to work he suddenly got hit by a Pepsi truck in all he thought was finally my own truck-kun what will happen next I don't know let's find out.
8 201My Brother's Best friend (Hyde x Reader)
Eric's twin sister falls for his best friend, Steven Hyde.
8 157