Chapter Text
The air was burning. The moving liquid fire danced around the canyon, leaving ashes in the night breeze. It wasn't a surprise the quick awakening of the volcanic ground in the Eastern Kingdom. But those villagers, held hostage by that evil man and his soldiers, were forced to dig and dig, almost opening the hell's door. With sweat running down their bodies, a young man fell into the ground, suffocated and in pain. Indescribable pain.
I want to live.
At least one more day.
I got to find him.
We only have each other.
“...save me...”
The general looked down at the young man lying at his feet. His clothes were almost reduced to ashes, his arms had been embraced by the embers, highlighting the red flesh and blisters on his tanned skin. His voice broke as he clung to the boot of the general's uniform, trying to hold on with all the strength he had left.
“Please... save me...” The man's indifferent gray eyes remained, fixed on the young man as he struggled to get his attention.
“N'importe quoi,” he muttered, stepping on the young man's wrist. He was so exhausted that he couldn't even scream. “Tu n'es personne à sauver.”
“I... know where... they are...”
The general's face remained serious until he uttered those words. He waited for his left eye to twitch in reaction to the supposed lie. Nothing. He looked towards his tent, where a tall man was waiting for him. He narrowed his eyes at him as he asked the young man at his feet:
“When you say ‘them’, who do you refer to?”
“The royalty... they are...” The boy tried to continue speaking, but fainted at the general's feet. He was barely breathing and felt nothing at all. Before exhaustion completely overcame him, he managed to hear a few words the general was ordering someone to do.
“Heal his wounds and dress him properly. This young man is the path to our victory.”
.･ﾟ♬⋆:･ﾟ✧:･.
The pain Rook felt in his body was indescribable. Comparing it to the chores on his family's farm was simply absurd. He couldn't remember what had caused it and began to slowly open his eyes, trying to see where he was.
He found himself on a stretcher covered with a blue blanket inside a beige tent. The interior was still dark, but he could appreciate the bandages covering his chest and arms thanks to a single ray of light sneaking through a hole in the top of the tent. Seeing it reminded him of that fairy girl he had met about a month ago. A smile appeared on his face. Having lived his entire life in a kingdom where the sun rose every dawn, Rook considered her a better definition of sunlight.
“Is he already awake?”
A hoarse voice from outside made him realize what had happened: the army had taken his village hostage. Led by a man dressed in a blue and white suit, he commanded a group of not only men, but also witches, trolls, goblins, and elves. A whole group of criminals from Pinocchio's prison. Alex was right in her warning.
The tent opened and Rook, still trying to get his eyes used to the light, noticed that the air was filled with a smell that was too strong for him. A man no taller than the young man stood in front of his stretcher with his hands behind his back. He wore a sapphire blue frock coat over his uniform of the same color with blood red and white pants. It was hard to make out his features, but he was sure that his gaze was piercing his soul. If that didn't give Rook the chills, hearing his voice again definitely did.
“You wanted to be saved, didn't you?”
Snap. Shards of memories hit him as he recalled his last words before he fainted. Before he screwed everything up.
“I know where they are.”
The boy remained silent as he looked down. Maybe if he did not say a word, they'd find him useless and would be killed, eventually. Maybe the gun the man carried in his belt was a quicker way to die than being melted by the fire and suffocated by the heat. The idea of giving up his life for others made him remember some old saying his parents used to say to him and his brother.
“If there's nothing you can do, don't try to be a hero”. His eyes started to tear up for a second but he forced them to hide the tears from the man's gaze. Nostalgia shouldn't bother in times like those and yet, it's everywhere now. Was there a chance to be alive and be forgiven for his words? Perhaps those memories with his family was the only thing he could think about before facing death from the man in front of him.
As he waited for his life to end, he chose to close his eyes for when he opened them again, he could meet his mother and brother somewhere over the sky. And his father, who was still out there, could at least visit him in dreams. He swore minutes had passed since he closed his eyes and waited for the man to shoot but nothing happened. Instead, he heard his footsteps leaving the tent.
Rook couldn't even let out a breath before another man entered the store, one completely different from the man in uniform. He wore a tattered suit, his tie was torn in half and a sack made mask was covering his entire head. He was skinnier and taller and held the so-called blue and white uniform of the first man. Rook felt something was off, but familiar, with that man and his blue eyes.
“Change your clothes to this.” Said the man as he placed the uniform in the stretcher at his feet. “The general and the rest will be leaving when you're ready.”
“I'm not going anywhere with them.”
“So you can talk? Thought the general was going mad.” The man's blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked first at the boy and then at the tent exit, chuckling to himself. “And yes, you are.”
Before he knew it, the masked man was holding Rook's face by the chin, pressing down so he would get the message right. The bright blue eyes that had chuckled before now looked at him with defiance and a hint of mockery. “Because of your silence, the general decided that you would be guiding us to the royalty. Not a single word, just lead this army to victory. Understood?”
No. That couldn't be. The path would only be revealed through words. Guiding them through the woods would be an endless journey, enough for them to suspect they wouldn't get to the royalty. But if they switched plans and went for the Fairy Kingdom instead? The armée had what seemed to be a dragon egg, which some people said was the only way to defeat the fairies. Would the fairies be ready for the battle like that?
“I bet you have a family to return to.” The man uttered the word ‘family’ with a slight tone of disgust as he held the boy's chin more gently. “Show us the way, and I'll convince the general to release you so you can return to them. Be quick, he doesn't like to wait.”
He kept silent in the room. If they were following a mute guide, how much could they trust him as he walked? And how far could he take them? Shutted lips. Tired legs. He could do it.
The masked man left him alone so he could take his time to get dressed, which wasn't something easy because of the massive pain in his whole body. There was no shiny surface to look at himself but he was sure he looked like a mess. He stepped out of the tent to find the masked man and the general talking, unaware of his arrival. Behind them, there were more soldiers than Rook could count, armed with swords and not guns like the general had.
“Ready to join us, jeune soldat?” Asked the general as he approached him to adjust his uniform. He stayed still as he held his breath to not smell the general's cologne. His gaze moved to the masked man, who gave him a nod of approval about what he convinced the general to do. A few seconds passed until he nodded as an answer to the general.
“Good choice. Then...” The general extended his arm in a gesture toward the soldiers, who opened a path between them, leading to the forest. Rook gulped before giving the first step to something he prayed to be the right choice. He thought for a second had heard the masked man mumble “good luck” to him as he returned to the camp.
Before stepping into the woods, a shadow stud in his back as it placed what seemed to be a gun on his lower back. Goosebumps ran over his body as he did his best to stay calm and silent, swallowing his worries. He took a deep breath before stepping into the woods with the armée behind.
.･ﾟ♬⋆:･ﾟ✧:･.
Three days had passed since Rook led the armée through the woods, roaming an imaginary path he assured was the right one. Maybe his performance wasn't that bad, because neither the general or his men questioned him yet. Rook felt the gaze of the soldiers over him and, as they all kept walking, he tried to fake looking left or right for what path to take. Luckily, not a single word has been out of his mouth.
But, on the other side, Rook was as lost as the soldiers. He never stepped out of the Eastern Kingdom, except for the Ball he sneaked in to meet Alex. Or when the two of them sneaked into Bo Peep's lair. The days were gloomy, even the sky could tell something bad was happening down there in the land.
By the end of the third day, the general commanded to return to the camp, which was a relief for everyone. Rook held his breath, trying not to blow up his performance and kept a tired gaze until they reached the border of the kingdom. He looked around, noticing the criminals from Pinnocho's prison mumbling something as he heard the laugh of some of them. The masked man stepped out of the general's tent with open arms as he walked towards the general, who was a few meters away from him.
“Trapped in the woods?” He mocked the general.
“It's been three days.” The general responded as he entered his tent. The masked man followed him as all the other soldiers walked away to their tents to have some rest. As they left, Rook stayed behind, staring at his feet. Now that he was on his own, he let out a sigh as he felt his eyes getting wet with tears.
“You did well. You did well.” He imagined his mother's voice comforting him and running her fingers through his dark hair. He looked up at the purple turning sky, decorated with few stars he could draw a line on, and cried in silence. Rook grabbed his chest, feeling his heart would stop beating for all the repressed emotions. The cover up was gone, for now.
He didn't have a place to spend the night so, leaving his tears away, he went for a walk over the tent he woke up in three days ago. Walking down the armée's camp, he wondered why those outlanders were trying to take over the land. Over the days, he realized they might be from Alex's world, but their attitude and ways of solving things probably weren't from the same time as hers, especially with that cologne. Men like them could never belong to the same world and time as her.
And, thinking about smells, one in particular got to his nose. It was, clearly, intense, definitely more than the general's, and left a bad taste on Rook's mouth. It was sharp and choking. Like something was being left rotting…no. Like it was being burned.
He followed the trace of smell in the air just to find a group of people near the dragon’s canyon. The purple sky was turning dark blue but he focused on two soldiers holding something, someone, as others were at their feet. Prayers of mercy were heard, but not listened. Rook closed his eyes when a piercing cry echoed down the dragon’s canyon and consumed it completely when it touched the ground. He heard the people yelling and trying to push the soldiers to the abyss too, but it was worthless. Two more cries echoed down a few seconds later. Then silence. Horrible silence.
He slowly opened his eyes, staring at the old scene. Were his screams like those too? He recalled being the first to touch the vivid liquid fire of the canyon, and the heat his body felt was shattering him into pieces. Almost, if it wasn't for him exposing a way to get the royalty.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
But what could he do? He was dying. He didn't know where his father was. Alex told him to run away with him before the armée caught them. As far as he knew, his father was entrusted with a delivery to the Northern Kingdom and, when Rook sneaked into the Fairy Kingdom to see Alex, he'd been told everything he knew at that moment. After giving her a hug, he returned to his farm, yelling for his dad. He never showed up. He thought of also warning the village down the hill, but when he arrived, the armée did so.
“... gives me goosebumps." Rook got out of his trance when heard one of the soldiers complain as they walked by the canyon, passing by where he was.
“What to do? If we disobey…” The other soldier turned the view back and shook the goosebumps out of him. His comrade nodded as he catched Rook looking at them. He raised his right arm and saluted. The other one did the same. Rook copied their action, lowering down his head after and walked away.
What to do? Where to go? Who to safe? How to get away?
Questions with unheard answers fill up his head. A slight dizziness ran through his mind as he wondered how to take some rest after witnessing a scene like that. Rook finally visualized the tent he was in, breathing out, and opened the way to it. But, right before opening the curtain, he felt somebody was waiting for him.
“Well, well, well.” He finally entered the tent. The masked man was sitting on the stretcher, arms flexing over it. His mocking voice made Rook feel anxious, remembering what he did the last time. “Three days and nothing has been found, eh?”
“It's not my fault I couldn't find them.”
“This is something you're planning, right?” His blue eyes smiled, cracking his knuckles before heading down at him. “To win time, better say days, for them to be ready.”
“That's no-”
“THEN WHY THE HELL YOU RESIST?” The man yelled, making Rook shiver where he was standing. “YOU ARE WASTING TIME.”
“You said not to…”
“I KNOW WHAT I SAID.” If the sack wasn't covering his head, the masked man would probably be about to tear out his hair in fury. His voice returned to his normal tone, but a mocking hit was behind it. “You're way too loyal.”
He kept his silence. He talked again. “The general’s pissed and he keeps waiting, so you are taking the lead and revealing their location when you're back in the forest.”
Rook down his head as he received every comment from the masked man, but for every word he said, he listened instead to little screams from the villagers that ended up at the bottom of the canyon. Something blurry crossed his view for a second.
“Understood?” A hand knocked his head as he stared at his feet, seeing them blurry too. “UNDERSTOOD?”
“Yes, sir.” He finally said before everything turned blurry, before he lost balance and almost fell into the ground, if it wasn't for a slap he received on his right cheek. He became conscious and looked at the masked man right in his eyes. Those creepy blue eyes.
“Man up. Now, let's go.”
“But it's almost mid–”
“I won't wait anymore.” The masked man walked past him, bumping his shoulder as he left the tent. Rook hesitated before turning around and followed the masked man to the general's tent.
When he thought of finding no one, he was proved wrong. There were less soldiers than the last time and, who were carrying swords too, in their arms rested shotguns. The general was standing at the end, facing the woods with hands behind his back. The sword was at his right, the gun at his left.
“Here he is, general” The masked man muttered, pushing Rook with contempt. The general turned his head, sending him an ultimatum with his gray eyes.
“You better get us to them.”
Not keeping his eyes out of the boy, he referred to the masked man. “I'll shoot three times into the sky. Let the criminals lead the way to the Fairy Kingdom when you hear them.”
“I'll walk them south and then…”
“You're not leaving.” His eyes stopped looking at him. “Not until your dragon's ready.”
“As you wish, sir.” Footsteps of the masked man were heard leaving. Not a single cheer up for the armée. All of them were going to win that night. Rook gulped.
“Your turn, jeune soldat.”
There wasn't a gun pointing at his back, there were about a hundred now. He imagined the secret path under his feet, telling him to take them away. He breathed in. He breathed out. When Rook started walking, the soldiers behind charged their shotguns and aimed at the surrounders. The general did nothing but walk. The soldiers kept their aim and walked. The only thing Rook wanted to do was stop walking.
Ten steps. Eleven. Twelve.
The woods at night confused him even more. The past nights lurking around were as difficult as that one. The dark consumed everything he passed by and through, like flames in a bonfire. At least with the sun, he could identify north and south, east and west. Oh, the sun. Will it shine after this? His legs began to quiver but he commanded to continue. Even his body wasn't letting him walk. His fingers were trapped in his fist, keeping them warm. A cold sigh let out of him, along with the steam of the weather. The uniform didn't protect him from the cold stare of a hundred men and his captain at his back. Walking will keep him warm.
Eighty eight. Eighty nine. Ninety steps.
When Rook counted a hundred steps, he made a pause and looked at the ground, searching for a fake clue where the secret path was. The soldiers took turns to aim at the woods and the general had the same expression Rook pictured everyday: A straight line on his lips and an angry look. The face of a mad man.
In the dark foliage, a rustling makes them aware of the surroundings. At the left of the general, something was shaking between some bushes. The man sent one of his soldiers a look, then he looked back at the bush. The soldier lifted his gunshot and walked slowly to the bush pile. With the canyon, he moved the branches and, before anyone could react, a little squirrel looked at the group. With its mouth filled with food, it squeaked and ran away from the evidential tension.
Rook let out a sigh while placing his hand on his chest, but the answer the soldier gave made him worry again.
“Dead body. Male. Decay.”
He opened his eyes wide, trying hard to not to create a picture of the body in his mind. He never saw a corpse before, let alone an abandoned one. Rook looked away at the path beneath, he didn't want to be with a corpse in the middle of the forest.
“Go check.” The voice of the general behind him confused him. Was he talking to him?
“Wh-what?” His answer trembled.
“War leads to victory or death. Go take a look at the last.” His gray eyes shined as he said those words. Really, what is wrong with people like them?
Hesitation grabbed Rook' s legs. Then, his arms. Finally, his words. How to say “no”? He was warned about waiting. Patience was running out, or it was never around, actually. He breathed in and forced his left leg to make a move. Then the right. He counted ten slow steps when he arrived in front of the soldier, who was avoiding to look at the decayed corpse.
When Rook looked at the feet, a little of his anxiety disappeared. It was dressed and not chest open like if it was getting eaten by something. The smell was less intense than back in the canyon, but for its state, it smelled bad. He thought about seeing enough with that but his eyes betrayed him and, in a glimpse of time, he looked up to down the body.
The worst mistake he could ever make.
He was hallucinating for sure. This couldn't be true. It couldn't. The emptiness hugged Rook by his back, dragging him into a spiral of denial and anxiety. Darkness surrounded him as he stepped a little closer to the corpse, almost reaching for the right hand and holding it at his chest.
“Father?” He whispered.
The night turned cold.
“It's me. It's your son.”
Very cold.
“Wake up.”
His view went blurry and he felt numb. He fell into his knees as shock hit him, and only thought formed in his mind. The only one he didn't want to accept. With a mixture of emotions he had never felt before, a painful cry escaped him and shook his body and the entire woods.
Laying up, the corpse of his father had a bullet hole on his forehead.
“What's the matter, jeune soldat?” For the first time, the general's raspy voice didn't scare him. Crying himself down, he leaned over his dead father and hugged him tight, despite the circumstances in which the corpse was.
He went to the Northern Kingdom. He left the farm when the sun was still up. He didn't bother to answer Rook's goodbye. That morning, the two of them ate for breakfast the carrots Rook picked up the day before.
Then why him? How did he end up on the south border? Why take the life of a farmer like his father? After the sleeping curse was lifted, he searched everywhere for his wife and son. He didn't sleep for days and, when he found out that the curse didn't reach them and eventually died, his full world crumbled. With the days passing by, he witnessed his father turn into a completely different man. More focused on his farm and he started seeing his own son as another pawn at the farm. Rook wondered if he did that to stop thinking he had a family if another curse tore the two of them apart. To avoid the feeling of losing someone again.
He never thought it would be the other way around.
When darkness threatened to drag him once more, he caught the echo of something approaching. Was something coming to take his father to the other side? A trail of little fairies? Perhaps his mother and brother? Would it be warm for a night like this?
One. Two. Three. Four.
Repeat.
One. Two. Three. Four.
The gallop of horses.
Oh no.
“The path…” He whispered.
Oh no.
“General, the path is approaching.” The soldier next to him heard him.
Oh no.
“Se cacher dans le feuillage.” He spoke. The soldiers abandoned their place behind the general, even the one next to Rook, and hid between the trees and the foliage. The general walked slowly to reach him and pet his shoulder.
“Good job, jeune soldat.”
What have I done?
Rook slowly turned his gaze to the general, who had a creepy smile while facing the secret path revealing to him and his men. The gallops were heard more close to them, as the wheels of the carriages spun with a squeak. He heard people talking. There were two horses with a rider each. Because of his teary eyes and the darkness, he couldn't recognize who they were but in the carriages, the royalty was hidden. He looked at the general. Then at the carriages. The general. The carriages again. He thought seeing one of the riders looked forward the path and, instantly, alarmed the other one. Both eyes opened as the general grabbed his gun and aimed to the night sky.
One.
Two.
Three.
The shots echoed all around the woods and the hidden soldiers jumped from the foliage and aimed their shotguns at the carriages and their drivers. The horses got scared and their riders had to call them down as screams and cries of help were heard from the carriages. The general walked down with his arms open to them, balancing his gun like it was a toy and, still, with that creepy smile.
“Quite an entrance, don't you think?”
“I've seen better.” A defying woman's voice talked. Night covered golden locks fell down her back as she looked at her right, to the other rider.
“You are the general our friend warned us about, right?” A strong male voice questioned.
“Is there another general trying to take over the land?” He laughed with excitement. At instant, he glanced at the soldiers next to them, two of them stopped aiming to take their weapons, a sword and an axe, away. “I think you have something for me.”
The general pointed with his gun at the space between the couple. The horses neighed as the soldiers began closure to them. “And, if you do your part, your deaths would be quick and painless.” The pair stayed in silence as they glanced at each other. There was nothing to do for them so, hardly, they lifted their arms in a sign of surrender. The general laughed so hard he could even breathe. He was half way to his victory.
And all because of him. Of what he had done. For not resisting. Resist. Rook remembered what the masked man promised to him.
“I bet you have a family to return to.”
He looked at his father one more time, covering his eyes and closing them forever before standing up. Trembling, he managed to reach the general, who was admiring his soldiers, opening the carriages and taking the royalty hostage. Rook looked at his left hand, which was holding a silver gun, and took it by his wrist. He fell to his knees and held the general's wrist to his head, where the silver gun was pointing at.
“I've been promised I'd return to my family.” He pointed at his left, where the dead body of his father was lying. “Let me reunite with them aga-”
Bam. The general moved his left arm, finding a way to release himself and, with the grip of the gun, he hit him on the head. Rook didn't fall into the ground but he felt his head spinning.
“I'm not wasting bullets on you.”
“Can't you just…”
“Jeune soldat!” The general yelled, looking down at him with an air of power. “Look what you've done. If this is your way of escaping, it's not going to work.”
Escaping? Rook wanted to be with his family. He had nothing left that tied him to be around…Alex. Oh, Alex. She could live thinking he and his father got away after the war ended. He could look after her somewhere over the sky. But what if she finds out his mistake led to this situation? She would be broken. Was he thinking about escaping through death before facing the consequences of losing her too and being left alone? Alone. It hit him like a bullet. He had nothing, nobody, to return to.
“Man up, jeune soldat.” The general spat. “You've made your bed, now lie on it.”