Chapter Text
In a time long gone, there was a tale. An old castle slept in the middle of a forest, its walls covered in overgrowth from lack of care. Parents warned their children to not go near for fear they would be taken into the withered building. Many of the villagers and wanderers had gone to the castle to plunder its supposed riches, but only one ever returned. With the last of his strength, he ran to warn the village of the danger. He said there were two men, almost identical in the face residing there. One attacked and nearly killed him. Attempts were made to burn down the castle, but when the flames died down, nothing had changed. Everyone began to call it a cursed castle, lingering malice and regret keeping it untouched as time went on.
But there was one boy who was always curious. His name was Apollo.
One of the elders of the village told stories about the castle to scare the kids; tales of ghosts and ghouls waiting to take the children’s souls. The other kids would cower with their friends, but Apollo would lean closer, eager to learn more.
Along with liking the scary stories about the castle, he didn’t participate in all of the normal activities with the other boys. Instead, he would stay in his room and read books about the stars, tracing constellations with his finger and looking up at the night sky to find them. Every time he did, it reminded him of his only friend, Clay Terran, who would stargaze with him. Clay was one of the children who disappeared after going to the castle, and Apollo would berate himself because he had been the one to convince him to go.
The children called Apollo a “freak”, constantly bullying him for being different from the other boys, and this continued into adulthood. When he called for help, the other villagers would either tell him to “suck it up” or just avert their eyes. One day, he finally got sick of the neglect, the pain, and packed his things. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, he made a break for it.
“Hold it, young man.”
Apollo froze in place, recognizing the voice. He turned around slowly, seeing the old storytelling man behind him.
“M-Mr. Wright?”
The old man smiled. “You’re heading to the castle, aren’t you?” When Apollo didn’t respond, he knew. “Well, be safe. Make sure to come back and tell me if my stories were true or not,” he said, adding the last part with a wink.
Shocked, Apollo could only nod before running off.
Wright sighed, shaking his head. “Trucy’s not gonna take this well…”
“He’ll be fine, Phoenix.”
“I know, Miles. I just worry about what might happen next.” He subconsciously gripped the nub that was once a full arm.
~~
The sun was starting to rise as Apollo tripped over yet another tree root. Stupid trees… He looked up to see the tallest spire of the castle rising over the treetops. With the sun’s light shining behind it, it looked almost mythical.
A smile came to his face as he picked up his pace. The sun moved across the sky as he travelled, the chill of night soon creeping up on him without his noticing.
He could see the faint outline of the walls surrounding the castle at the end of the forest. But a familiar smell made him stop dead in his tracks. That smells like… fire. Turning on his heel, he saw a crowd of people a short distance behind him. Among the shouting voices was his friend Trucy’s voice.
“Polly!” she called. He flinched, realizing that he should have known this would happen. She was one of the few people that actually accepted his oddities and had become oddly protective over him in more recent years. Trucy was known as the "Village's Gem", the one they all loved. She could rally them together with the twirl of her cape. But she had been away performing with her troupe when he left; she must have returned while I was gone.
Noticing that they were ebbing ever closer, he started running towards the castle. She must have heard him because, as soon as he moved, she yelled, “He’s over there!” A chase ensued and, after he tried multiple maneuvers to shake them off his trail, someone grabbed his shoulder. He did a 180 and stood face-to-face with Trucy. To her right, he saw Phoenix Wright, her father, who was grinning sheepishly at Apollo.
“Polly,” she began, drawing Apollo’s attention back to her, “why did you run away without telling me? I was worried sick.” Her arms wrapped around his torso. He could feel her hands gripping the back of his shirt tightly, as if letting him go would make him disappear. He returned the embrace, though only slightly. “We can still go back and act like this never happened. Come on, Polly. Let’s go back home.”
He felt his chest tighten. Home. It was the place he grew up, where he met his two best friends and the few people who respected him, but it wasn’t home. That feeling had left after Clay disappeared and Trucy started her travelling menagerie.
The people around them were either rolling their eyes, watching Trucy with less-than-innocent interest, or just waiting to go back to the village. Squeezing his eyes shut, Apollo moved his hands to Trucy’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. He shoved her away, using just enough strength to make her stumble but not fall, and bolted.
Voices shouting both for him and at him grew distant as he was finally face-to-face with the castle itself. Before he could hesitate any longer, he took a few steps back and ran at the gate, scaling it with surprising ease.
When his feet hit the ground, he looked around, eyes wide. Greenery of all kinds covered the grounds, even reaching the walls surrounding the overgrown garden. He wandered around, taking in the sight of it all. Rose bushes led the way to the front entrance, the flowers’ bright red color contrasting the darker green of the plants surrounding them. As he followed the path, he felt an ominous wind pass, sending a shiver down his spine.
The front doors stood high above him like a seemingly daunting mountain. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed them open. The scent of old books greeted him, the area dimly lit by a lantern and candelabras. Closing the doors behind him, Apollo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Now that he stood still, he took in everything, two things catching his eyes. To his left was a cozy-looking living area, the fireplace’s flames warming the whole foyer. Next to the fireplace was a bookshelf that reached towards the ceiling. He was in awe of the sheer immensity of the front entrance alone.
But as he looked around, he could feel his body trembling. His knees gave out and dragged him to the floor, eyes staring blankly at the floor. Everything that happened finally registered in his mind. Tears began to fall from his eyes, sliding down his face and dampening the carpet.
From behind him, Apollo heard the rustling of cloth. Arms slowly wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. He turned and buried his face in the stranger’s chest. They were cold to the touch, but he couldn’t remember when he had ever felt warmer being with another person.
He let out all of his pent-up frustration through tears and sobs in a pair of arms that felt safer than his old home.