Chapter Text
He woke up to the moonlight.
Newt yawned, rubbing his eyes. He frowned, glancing out the window. It was late, and yet, something had woken him up. He scanned the room, but it seemed undisturbed. His crown was on his nightstand, as always. His books were clustered on his desk.
“Alby?” He called out. “You there?” He scanned the room again. “Minho?”
Silence answered him, and goosebumps appeared on Newt’s arms. His back stiffened, apprehension rising. He slid out of bed, the sheets rustling, gently putting his feet on the floor. Taking even, quiet steps, he walked out of his chambers. The sight made his heart drop and skin pale.
On the wall there was a crude drawing, in what Newt hoped was red paint, of a man’s face. But instead of eyes, the face had a pair of suns. He was crying drops of red, grinning a cruel smile. The guards that were posted outside his door were all lying in a heap, their throats cut open, blood seeping out of the wound and onto the floor, leaving ugly stains. Their eyes had empty stares.
Newt opened his mouth to scream, but all of a sudden his mouth was covered, and his arms constrained. He thrashed, but the abductors grip only tightened. Newt assumed it was a man--his body was large and shaped too flat and broad for a woman. He was wearing black leather gloves that rubbed his skin. Acting on impulse, Newt bit down on the man’s hand and he cursed, releasing him. Newt started to run, legs and arms pumping.
“Help!” He screamed. “Guards!”
He could hear the man behind him, loud and clunky. Newt wasn’t really worried. With steps like that, he was obviously faster than the man. He yelled for help again, hearing his words echo off the walls.
A figure in black dropped from the ceiling, stopping Newt in his tracks. This one was a girl, dressed in men’s clothes, her face covered by a mask. In her hand, a sword gleamed in the moonlight.
“Bloody hell,” Newt panted, glancing behind him. The man was already there, breathing heavily. He was also wearing a mask, but unlike the girl, his eyes were showing. They looked almost black in the darkness.
“You’re fast, kid,” he said, and his voice was scratchy, like he smoked too many cigars. To Newt’s disappointment and fear, he was now also armed, a knife shining in each hand. “Not that it helped much. Now, you can make this easier for us and yourself by coming with us nicely.”
Newt didn’t answer. He glanced back at the girl. She hadn’t moved, and was watching silently. There was something about her that Newt didn’t like. She looked thin and frail, but Newt had a feeling she was the brains and fire power in this operation. So he turned back towards the man and ran straight towards him.
The man faltered, as if taken by surprise. But he quickly regained his senses, thrusting out his knife. Newt dodged but it still managed to graze his shoulder, and he winced. He sprinted past the man and down the hallway. He could hear guards shouting and the clang of swords. How many intruders were here? Where was his family?
Suddenly, a weight crashed onto his back and he cried out, landing hard on his stomach. His head slammed into the stone floor and he saw stars, ears ringing. She held her sword to his throat, pausing his movements. His heart pounded and he took a shaky breath. His vision began to blur.
A concussion, he thought, vaguely remembering reading about it in one of his textbooks. He clenched his eyes shut.
He heard the man arrive, panting. “That’s one fast son of a bitch,” he wheezed. “We should just kill him.”
“We’re not allowed,” she said, and her voice was soft, almost calming. It didn’t fit the situation at all. “Hold him down for me.”
The man obeyed, proving Newt’s theories that this girl was in charge. Newt started to thrash and struggle, but it made his head spin and overall, was no use. The man was stronger than the girl, and almost twice Newt’s size.
The girl knelt down and grabbed a hold of Newt’s ankle. Her hands were ice cold.
Before Newt could even question what she was doing, the girl slammed the butt of her sword onto his ankle bone with unknown strength.
Hearing a crack, Newt screamed, pain shooting up his leg and practically immobilizing him. The girl did it again, and again. Tears streamed down Newt’s cheeks.
Even the man seemed surprised. “Why did you do that?”
“Get off him,” she ordered, bypassing his question. “He won’t run now.”
Newt wasn’t really sure what happened after that. His head ached and he felt sick. He heard swords being drawn, heard yelling and cries of pain. He saw blurs of black and silver.
But there was one moment of clarity. Newt had somehow sat up, but his head spun and his vision seemed to blur at the edges. He watched his father storm in, bypassing the knights and black dressed figures. He saw his father give him a worried glance. He saw his father’s eyes widen and rush over to him, glancing over him, as if someone was behind him. He turned around, staring at the figure with a knife in his hand, and closed his eyes, bracing himself.
But opened his eyes to see his father with a knife in his chest instead.
He screamed in horror as he watched the body fall.
“I’ll always protect you,” his father coughed out, blood dripping out of his mouth. His eyes started to dull. “Always.”
By the time the reinforcements barged in, their King was dead and their Prince was broken.
♛♛♛
The town was alive, tonight. Lanterns lined the streets that were filled with people. Some were dancing along to the music two men were playing, one on the violin and another on the accordion. Children ran around, giggling and stealing treats from old men.
Newt pulled his hat down further, not really knowing what the celebration was for. He was dressed in commoner rags and his long hair was tied up in a messy bun. Dirt was smeared onto his arms and clothes. He even sprinkled some into his hair for good measure.
Newt enjoyed sneaking out to the village. He enjoyed being able to do whatever he wanted without worrying how it would affect his image. He enjoyed being able to be human--to be pushed around by drunk men and scowled out, instead of being this high being that people were forced to respect.
He passed a small bakery and backtracked, drawn in by the smell. He looked in the window and saw a young and strangely hairy baker placing fresh bread out on the counter. Newt entered the store, and nodded at him.
“How much?” He asked.
“Five gems, Greenie,” the baker answered. From the previous times the Prince in hiding had snuck out, Newt had learned quickly that ‘Greenie’ was really just slang for a stranger, or foreigner. Apparently everyone in the town knew each other in some sense--maybe not the person’s actual name, but knew their face, at least.
He paid for a slice of bread with the spare money he brought, giving him slightly extra and ignoring the dumbfounded look on the baker’s face. He quickly exited the bakery, taking a bite. One thing that Newt found miraculous about the town was that sometimes the food was better than the meals the chefs at the palace took hours to cook. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, filled with laughter but also tiredness at the same time. Or maybe it was just because it actually was better, that simple and plain was sometimes better than complicated and fancy.
Newt walked, not really going anywhere, just watching. He usually just went to the tavern to drink when he snuck out, but he never talked to anyone. His disguise wasn’t that good, and besides, he was fine with just looking. He liked how free they looked. He envied them, in some ways.
"Things just haven't been the same since the king died," he heard a woman with long, black hair say and he gritted his teeth.
The woman next to her nodded. "Yes, the taxes have gone over the roof. And the palace has been more closed off than usual..."
"Not to mention that the king's death was so sudden," the black haired woman replied. "And with barely an explanation as well.”
“I’ve heard talk that he was murdered,” the other woman said. “That he was killed by someone in the palace.”
“I’ve heard some nasty things about the queen, too, and that son of hers.”
A large boy bumped into him, making him drop his slice of bread, and he scowled. A young child whipped by, picking it up and scampering off before Newt could even blink.
“Watch where you’re going, shank!” The boy hissed.
Newt gave him an annoyed glare. He had really wanted to finish that slice of bread. “Look, you bumped into me, shuck-face.”
The boy’s face reddened in anger, eyes squinting. “I’ve never seen you here before, Greenie,” he said. “What’s your name?
“None of your bloody business,” Newt muttered, turning away, but the man grabbed him by his collar, yanking him close. His breath stank of alcohol.
“I asked you a question, Greenie,” he hissed.
Newt stared back at the man evenly. “And I chose not to answer it.”
The boy fumed, raising a fist, and for a second Newt panicked, because if he showed up at the palace the next day with a black eye, the whole thing would be over and he would never be able to free himself from the confinements of the castle. But then a hand rested on the other boy’s shoulder, stopping him.
“Gally,” a calm, strong voice said. “Take it easy.”
Gally scowled, and didn’t move. But after a few moments, he relented, releasing Newt roughly, making him stumble. “Get out of my sight, shuck-face.”
Newt glared at him, but the boy turned around and left.
“Sorry about that. Gally’s actually a pretty good person, but he’s kinda hot headed.”
Newt turned. The boy who had stopped Gally was standing there, a sheepish grin on his face. He looked around his age, and had dark hair and warm brown eyes. “I can tell,” Newt muttered, crossing his arms.
The boy smiled. “I’m Thomas,” he said, holding out his hand.
Newt reached out and shook it. His hands were warm and callused from labor. “Nice to meet ya, Thomas.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to tell me your name?”
“What makes you think you’ve got the right to know if your bloody friend didn’t?” Newt shot back.
“Well,” he started. “I did save you from said friend.”
Newt scoffed. “I didn’t need you to in the first place.
“Right,” Thomas drawled, making Newt scowl. He glanced away from Thomas’ smirk.
“What’s up with the party?” He asked, because he was genuinely curious. It wasn’t the solstice, or any type of big holiday, really. So what was the big deal about today?
Thomas grinned. “It’s a full moon today,” he explained, pointing to the sky. “We believe that full moons on the first of the month bring luck.”
“Ain’t the sun more important to you guys?” Newt asked, frowning. He didn't even know anything about this, and these were supposedly his people. "Being in the Kingdom of the Scorch and all."
“We believe that the sun gives us life and prosperity.” Thomas stated, though Newt already knew that. “During the day he gives us life through his rays. We cherish the moon--especially full moons-- because it gives us a break from the sun.”
Understanding passed through Newt’s features. “A break from life,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up.
Thomas grinned, taking his hand again. Newt stiffened and the boy laughed. “Calm down,” he said, dragging him through the throngs of people.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer, and Newt scowled. But he let the boy lead him through the crowd, listening to the music and people’s laughter.
“Where are you from?” Thomas asked, glancing back at him.
“Around,” Newt snapped, wanting to discourage the boy from asking anymore questions. But he just grinned again, and Newt had a hard time believing anyone could ever be that carefree.
“Fine, then. Where do you live now? Are you staying with relatives or something?”
“You could say that,” he replied. “You like to ask a lot of questions, don’t ya?”
Thomas grinned. “I’m just curious. I always see you come to the tavern, but you never talk to anyone. Just come in and then leave.”
“Have you been bloody watching me?” Newt asked grumpily. “That’s kinda creepy, ya know.”
Thomas’ cheeks turned pink. “Not like that,” he sputtered, letting go of Newt’s hand. “I just found you interesting.”
Newt smirked at the boy’s reaction. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“You’ll see,” Thomas replied. He turned around and after a few moments, Newt followed, stumbling a little to keep up.
Damn limp, he thought bitterly, watching the ground. His steps seemed lazy and uncoordinated compared to the other boy’s. They continued to walk side by side, the crowd thinning the further they went. Soon, it was just the two of them, and Thomas nudged his shoulder, nodding his head towards the alleyway between two houses. Newt stopped walking, pausing because he was basically with a stranger and everyone knew strangers and dark alleyways didn’t mix.
Thomas seemed to see his thought process because he chuckled. “It’s not like that. I’m not a molester, I swear.” He held out his hand encouragingly, smiling.
Hesitating, Newt tentatively grabbed the other boy’s hand again. Thomas’ smile widened and he lead him into the alleyway. It was littered with trash. There was a ladder leaning on one wall, and Thomas placed a foot on the first rung, then paused, as if in realization.
“Can you climb it?” He asked gently and Newt scowled pushing the boy out of the way.
“Of course I can, you bloody shank,” he mumbled, placing his bad foot on the ladder first. Taking a moment to prepare, Newt pushed off, wincing a little. It hurt, but it was bearable.
“Look, I’m sorry, I’m stupid, we don’t have to do this--”
“Shuck it, Thomas,” Newt interrupted, and then he started to climb. He started to get the hang of it, found a way to adapt to make it easier for him, and made it to the roof of the house in no time. Luckily, it wasn’t very slanted. Thomas was right behind him, swiftly sliding onto the roof.
Newt scanned his surroundings. To the north, he could see the festival glowing in the distance, could still faintly hear the music and chatter. And past that, there was the palace, with it’s familiar turrets and towers. The windows glowed faintly with yellow light, and the moon made the white stone of the palace gleam. To the east there was the ocean, the moon’s light reflecting off the waves.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Thomas said, making Newt turn to look at him. He was laying on a old, ratty blanket that must have already been there from previous visits. A pillow was tucked underneath his head. Another one was right next to him, and he patted at the spot next to him.
“Is this even your house?” Newt asked, but he moved to lie down next to him anyway. At this view, the only thing he could see was the stars.
Thomas grinned sheepishly. “Not exactly,” he admitted. “But I still come here a lot.”
Newt didn’t say anything. The blanket was kind of small--their entire sides touched. He didn’t exactly know what he was doing here, but he didn’t want to leave and that was what surprised him most. He wasn’t stupid. He knew it was a bad idea to make friends like this, especially since they could never really know who he was. All the lying would hit him square in the face once they found out.
“Why’d you decide to move here?” Thomas asked, breaking the silence. “Did something happen at your old town?”
So many questions, Newt thought wryly. “No,” he answered carefully. “I just wanted something different for myself.”
The boy nodded. “Yeah, I can understand that.” He folded his arms over his stomach, causing his elbow to dig into Newt’s side a little, but he didn’t really mind. “Get’s kind of boring doing the same things everyday, seeing the same people.”
Newt kept quiet again, and Thomas turned his head to look at him, grinning. “You going to tell me your name now, Greenie?”
“Not a chance, shuckface,” Newt shot back. He could feel Thomas’ breath on his neck and felt his cheeks heat up. “Why’d you drag me here, anyway? Seems a lot like a bloody dumb date.”
“Maybe it is,” Thomas teased, and Newt was shocked into laughter. He had to admit, the guy was something else. “And you’ll see. It’ll happen any minute, now. Might want to sit up, though,” he advised, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Better view that way.”
Newt frowned, but obliged, sitting up. He rested an arm on one knee, sighing.
But then a large boom sliced through the air, and Newt watched as the firecracker sailed up and exploded into bursts of red. Pretty soon the whole sky was filled with color, and people were cheering.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Thomas said, sounding pleased with himself. “Right here’s the best view.”
“Yeah,” Newt agreed, because it really was. He had seen fireworks before, of course, but the view at the palace wasn’t anything close to this.
“On days we have festivals, they always shoot fireworks at around midnight,” Thomas said, smiling. “It’s the best part.”
Newt froze, paling. “At around midnight?” He asked, quickly standing up. The shift change for the guards at the castle was at around one, and it was his only chance in sneaking back into the palace.
Thomas stared at him, startled. “Yeah, why? What’s wrong?”
“I gotta go,” Newt mumbled, already heading towards the ladder. He quickly descended, wincing a little at the pain that flared in his ankle. He quickly half ran half walked out of the alley, Thomas stumbling behind him.
“Wait!” Thomas called out, running into the light. It made his skin glow bronze. “Can’t you at least tell me your name?”
Newt paused, turning around. He smirked at him. “I’ll see you around, Tommy.”
And then he turned and ran, weaving in and out of the crowd until Thomas could no longer see him.
