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“Cassie!” Hyacine gasps as she enters the gaping, dark cave where Castorice’s dragon Pollux resides. Castorice, who had been idly mixing a death potion, looks up to see Hyacine accompanied by her assistant pegasus, Little Ica, as usual.
“I’ve been looking all over for you!” Hyacine continues, her pink pigtails bouncing as she runs over to Castorice, Little Ica close behind. “I heard from the witch that you’re gonna have a big assignment soon!”
Castorice widens her eyes and sets her potion down. “Really? Did you hear that from Phainon, or did the witch really tell you that?”
“The witch really told me that!” she exclaims. “Cassie, I’m so happy for you! After all, Phainon already cursed the kingdom with ravaging fires, and I then sent them a whole year of thunderstorms. But you haven’t gotten your chance yet! Cassie, aren’t you excited? This is gonna be your big moment! All of the Kingdom of Penacony will know your name! They’re gonna fear you! Well, they already fear you, but still!”
Castorice nods. “Of course I’m excited. But… Did the witch tell you what my assignment was?”
Hyacine plops down next to Castorice, and Little Ica floats into her lap. “Hm… I don’t remember the witch saying anything about that. If you’re worried you’re gonna have to change the weather or something, I’d say the chance of that is pretty unlikely. Your special ability is your death touch, anyways. I doubt you’ll get some kind of weather-related assignment. It’ll probably just be a bigger version of the assignments you have been doing.”
“Well… first of all, you know it’s not a death touch, not like that,” Castorice says. “It’s just that I can inflict Styxian Bloom through touch.”
“None of your victims have ever survived,” Hyacine cheerily points out. “It’s basically a death touch! The villagers even call you the Hand of Shadow.”
Castorice blinks. “Wait, they do? I haven’t heard about that yet. How did you…?”
“I snuck into one of the villages,” Hyacine explains. “It was a small reconnaissance assignment from the witch. I actually did pretty well! But anyways, point is, I heard some people whispering about a ‘Hand of Shadow.’ Wanna know what they said?”
Castorice nods, brimming with curiosity.
“Okay,” Hyacine says, clearing her throat. “They said the Hand of Shadow is a terrible witch. Some say she’s a ghost. Others say she’s the grim reaper herself. They describe her as paler than snow, with sharp eyes and a terrifying scythe. She’s wrapped in bandages and toxic flowers. People say that the moment she’s in your home, the entire house feels colder. And when she reaches out to curse you, you’ll hallucinate a field of deadly flowers, and you’ll immediately die simply from her touch. By the time you realize what’s happening, it’ll be too late.”
Castorice widens her eyes. “Really? I didn’t realize I’d already made such an impression…”
“Oh! And I forgot to add: there’s rumors she rides a giant, terrifying dragon capable of great destruction. Nobody knows where the dragon lives, but all people know is that once anyone sees the silhouette of a mighty dragon in the sky, the whole kingdom will be doomed.”
Hyacine smiles brightly. “See? You’re terrifying already. You’ll do great with whatever the witch assigns to you.”
“… Thank you, Hyacine,” Castorice finally responds, allowing herself a small smile.
The peace and quiet of the cave is abruptly interrupted.
“So that’s where you guys are!” Phainon calls from the cave opening, jogging over to where Hyacine and Castorice are seated. “Man, I thought the witch had given you guys an assignment or something. I didn’t know you guys had run off to hide here!”
“Run off and hide?” Castorice echoes. “What an interesting way to phrase it, seeing as you’re the one who’s fallen head-over-heels for some nobleman and visits him every night.”
Phainon sputters. “I– Castorice, what?!”
Hyacine’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “It’s the Kremnoan, right? Mydeimos?”
“What are you two even talking about? I’m not in an affair with Mydei!”
Castorice lets out a gasp. “You call him Mydei? You must really be close, then.”
“Say, what’s this Mydei of yours like?” Hyacine asks. “He must be quite charming if he managed to score the apprentice of the great witch, no?”
“I don’t even know what you guys are talking about!” Phainon groans. “Mydei…. Er, Mydeimos is so full of himself. He probably doesn’t have any friends at all! What makes you think I’d ever be in an affair with that half-naked showoff?”
Hyacine giggles at that. “Whatever you say! Anyways, we’re not here to judge you for your love life as long as you don’t stray from the witch’s teachings, right Cassie?”
Castorice nods. “That’s right. Anyways, why did we gather here anyways? Isn’t it time for lunch?”
At the mention of lunch, Little Ica turns its beady eyes towards Castorice.
“Oh! Cassie’s right!” Hyacine quickly says. “Yeah, uh, Little Ica and I need to go now. See ya!”
“Hey! Hyacine, don’t run off without the rest of us!”
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Castorice is just about finished with her lunch when she hears the witch’s voice echoing inside her head: “Castorice, I summon you.”
Even though Hyacine had already told her about the assignment, she shudders upon hearing the summoning. Trying to suppress the shake in her voice, she tells Hyacine and Phainon, “The witch has summoned me. I need to go.”
Hyacine and Phainon look at each other as some sort of mutual understanding seems to pass through them. “You got this, Cassie!” Hyacine beams.
“Yeah, Castorice,” Phainon agrees. “We believe in you!”
“Thank you,” Castorice says, shakily smiling at both of them. “I’ll be on my way now.”
She stands up and turns around, walking the familiar walk through the winding corridors lit only by the dim, green lamps along the walls. The corridor is damp as always, and that’s usually a comfort to Castorice, but today, she shivers in the cold. She’s not sure why she’s so nervous for this assignment. It’ll probably be like what Hyacine said: a bigger, better version of the assignments she’s carried out before. Maybe she’ll have to spread a plague through the whole village. It’d definitely be much harder than cursing a singular villager, but if she used all her power and focused really hard, she should be ready for it.
Castorice sighs to herself. She has to pull herself together. She can’t be scared. Not now, not when this is the big moment she’s been training all these years for.
Once she sees the double doors leading to the witch’s room, she takes another deep breath. She thinks of Hyacine and Phainon and their encouraging words. After all, they’re her closest friends, and if they believe in her…
Castorice opens the doors.
“Great witch!” she proclaims. “I, Castorice, have answered your call.”
The curling mist in front of her glows with a strange light. Slowly, it parts to reveal the true form of the witch, a seemingly frail spellcaster wrapped in a dark cloak, his one eye glowing with power.
“Castorice,” the witch nods. “When you began as my apprentice, I remember you were unsure of yourself, afraid of the power within you. Look at yourself now. Your mind is bright, you’re getting stronger, and your confidence has significantly improved.”
Castorice nods, and the great witch smiles at that.
“However!” the witch says, performing a dramatic hand gesture. “You have one last test before you can truly call yourself a witch. Do you have any idea what that might be?”
Castorice shakes her head. “I do not, great witch. Please, enlighten me.”
The witch takes two steps towards Castorice. “I cannot do that unless you answer this question: Do you still remember why we inflict curses upon the Kingdom of Penacony?”
“Because the system is unjust,” Castorice responds without missing a beat. “The rulers claim that they equally protect and serve the entire kingdom, but that is untrue. The monarchy is corrupt, and so are their laws. They banish spellcasters like us because we ‘disturb’ the fragile peace; thus, we must inflict curse upon curse onto the kingdom, shattering that so-called peace the king so desperately wishes to preserve and uncovering the truth of their rule.”
The witch is silent for a few seconds. Dread slowly fills Castorice’s mind. Did she answer wrong? She feels her heart start to race. After another agonizing moment, the witch bursts into laughter. “Castorice! Your sense of purpose is absolutely impeccable! You’re absolutely right. This is the purpose we must hold in our hearts the entire time; never forget that. Now, Castorice, I task you with the following: Infiltrate the Penaconian palace at night and curse the Halovian princess Robin with Styxian Bloom.”
Castorice can’t help but be slightly surprised. She thought her mission would be something along the lines of a mass plague outbreak, yet she only has to curse one person? She almost feels… disappointed.
It must be showing on her face because the great witch says, “You needn’t curse a whole kingdom for the whole kingdom to be in despair. Remember, Robin brings hope to the people of Penacony. If she died one night, everyone would be in despair, and sometimes, that’s more powerful than pure, brute-force destruction.”
Castorice nods. “I understand, great witch.”
“Keep in mind everything you’ve learned,” the witch continues. “Everything will be necessary to complete your mission. Now, unless you have further questions, you are dismissed, Castorice.”
Castorice nods. “Understood. Thank you, great witch.”
She then turns around and steps out of the mist-filled room into the dim corridor. Behind her, the double-doors automatically fall shut with a clang. Now that Castorice is alone, she can finally process her assignment. It’s an assasination, basically. She just has to sneak into Princess Robin’s room at night, most likely leaving a few phantoms of herself along the way to scare anyone who might be awake, as well as a few signature flowers and butterflies. Then, once there, she will inflict Styxian Bloom onto the princess and make her escape before any guard can catch her. Theatrics, as the witch would say, is key to her success.
Castorice takes a deep breath. She can do this. She won’t mess up.
She’s waited so many years for a chance like this, after all.
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“Oh my gosh!” Hyacine exclaims. “Killing the princess?! You have no idea what a cool assignment that is!”
“Yeah!” Phainon nods. “Castorice, that’s great!”
“Thank you, everyone,” Castorice nods, flushing slightly at her friends’ enthusiasm. “Forgive me for my forgetfulness, but Princess Robin was cursed by the great witch some number of years ago, right?”
Hyacine nods. “Yep! You guys weren’t here yet, but the witch cursed her to lose her voice!” She pauses. “Well, she can get it back if she finds a true love’s kiss. That’s how most curses work, anyways.”
Phainon scratches his head. “I never really understood that, though. I know the great witch says that reversibility is important in case you curse the wrong person or use the wrong spell, but why is it always a true love’s kiss? Haven’t we learned purifying spells and whatnot? We also each carry a vial of a purifying potion, so I don’t get what the whole true love thing is about.”
Hyacine shrugs. “Honestly, even I don’t know the answer to that one. I’ve tried asking the witch a few times, but the answer I received was always really cryptic. I don’t get it either, but it probably doesn’t matter too much. Cassie will kill her before she finds that supposed ‘true love’ anyways, I’m sure of it.”
Hyacine beams brightly. “Right, Cassie?”
Castorice nods. “Yeah… I’ll probably go tonight. Is there– should I bring or prepare anything?”
Hyacine taps her chin for a moment. “Ooh! I know! We need to dress you up to make you look super scary.”
“I can help with that!” Phainon volunteers.
Hyacine pauses. “Phainon. You’re amazing. You’re my best friend. But… absolutely not.”
Phainon lets out a mock sigh of disappointment. “I knew you’d say something like that… I can help Castorice with practicing and stocking potions, though.”
Castorice nods at both of them. “Thank you so much for your help. I… I won’t let you down!”
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That night, Castorice creeps through the palace. She’s careful to make sure she’s perfectly silent, without a single rustle from her cloak or an echo from her footsteps. As she walks, she occasionally leaves behind a few traces. A stray flower blooming through a crack in the wall, or a purple butterfly delicately balancing on a painting’s edge.
By tomorrow morning, everyone will know that Castorice, the Hand of Shadow and apprentice to the great witch, had wandered these halls.
From her studies and missions, she’s already learned where Princess Robin’s room is, so she finds the door without trouble. Castorice takes a deep breath. She already knows what she needs to know, and she knows what she needs to do. All she has to do is gently place her hand over the forehead of the sleeping princess, and just like that, she can easily inflict Stygian Bloom onto her.
Though… why does Castorice hear sound from the princess’s room? Is it music?
She shakes her head. The princess is definitely asleep by now. It must be Castorice’s own nerves playing tricks on her. She can’t be nervous though. She can’t let her hand shake or her magic waver.
After a moment of deliberation, Castorice phases through the door.
When she reopens her eyes, the first thing she notices is that Princess Robin is definitely not asleep. She’s sitting on a stool, facing away from Castorice and looking out her window at the night sky while strumming a melodious tune on her lute.
Castorice partially melts back into the shadows. This definitely was not what she was expecting, not at all. She takes a moment to observe the room. The princess seems to have a liking for flowers considering the amount of colorful potted flowers that decorate her room. On one wall, there’s a painting of the princess and her brother, the Crown Prince Sunday, standing together. She also definitely likes music, with another wall being covered by various instruments hung up on display. However, that doesn’t surprise Castorice in the slightest. Despite losing her voice all those years ago, the princess is known to be a musician, travelling across the kingdom to play her songs even if she can’t sing.
Still, it puzzles Castorice that she’s still awake.
Castorice silently runs through her options in her head. She could walk up behind Robin and kill her right now. Alternatively, she could wait for Robin to go to sleep, and kill her then. The first option would be the smart choice, of course, but something feels wrong about it.
Castorice can’t name what it is that feels wrong, though. Under the witch’s orders, she’s killed countless people, both when they’re awake and in their sleep. Of course, she’s more used to killing people in their sleep. However, that doesn’t explain her nerves. It should be easy. Just take a few steps forward and tap the princess’s shoulder. Due to her muteness, the princess won’t even scream.
What is it that feels so wrong then?
Could it be– and Castorice nearly laughs and blows her cover upon thinking this– that she doesn’t want to interrupt Robin’s song? That’s ridiculous. Castorice would admit that it’s a beautiful song, and it’s not one she’s heard before. In the music, she hears something like a sorrowful kind of hope.
And somehow, just like that, Castorice thinks of her days before her studies with the great witch. She originally had a happy childhood, but one fateful day, Castorice got into an argument with a boy. She doesn’t even remember what it was about anymore, but she remembers she had been clutching a fresh ear of corn from the market. When she started yelling at him, flowers of a sickly purple started to bloom across the bright yellow kernels.
She was only ten, but that day, her parents sent her to the woods, telling their freak of a daughter to never come back. In the lonely months that followed, she’d wandered aimlessly on her own, always hungry and thirsty and tired. She never even knew it was possible to feel so alone, and yet.
… Castorice pulls herself out of her thoughts. She can’t be reminiscing about herself, not now. She has a job to do. A princess to assassinate.
Castorice takes a silent deep breath. Just a few steps, and one touch. It’ll be simple. Easy. It doesn’t matter if Robin’s music is cut short; why would such a silly thing stop Castorice anyways?
She materializes from the shadows, taking a soundless step forward.
At that moment, the princess abruptly stops her song. After what seems to be a moment of hesitation, she turns around—
And Castorice has to stop herself because Princess Robin is beautiful.
Though she’s seen numerous paintings of the princess, she’s never actually seen her in-person. Castorice always knew about her silvery blue hair and cerulean eyes, her feathery headwings and delicate halo, and yet, seeing her in-person is… different. She reminds Castorice of a star-filled night sky somehow, and yet, Robin seems to be even more radiant than the moonlight pouring through her window.
Robin signs something with her hands, and that snaps Castorice out of her daze. Right. She’s not just here to admire the princess’s beauty. She needs to kill her, and if that means closing those cerulean eyes forever, then… then so be it.
Castorice takes another step forward, ignoring Robin’s signing. She doesn’t understand sign language, anyways. It doesn’t– it shouldn’t matter to her, and yet, the way her hands move is almost captivating in a way.
No– why is she thinking that? It’s just Penaconian Sign Language. Castorice takes another step forward.
The princess takes out a piece of parchment and quickly scribbles something down. Before Castorice can take another step forward, Robin holds up the parchment. In messy handwriting, it reads: You’re shaking. Are you cold?
Then, in smaller writing beneath it: Why are you here?
Against her better judgment, Castorice pauses. She’s never seen someone try to communicate with her before. This princess must have a lot of nerve.
And yet, before Castorice can stop myself– “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Shit.
Castorice quickly covers up her blunder. “Be more worried about yourself, princess.”
She summons her scythe to her side, taking another step forward.
Robin turns around and writes down something else. She holds it up for Castorice to see: You’re uncertain. Is it YOU who wants to kill me?
Castorice pauses again because… it’s true.
She is uncertain, just because the princess is beautiful and her music is beautiful and her nerve is… oddly charming. Perhaps if she had been a fellow witch, they’d have become good friends.
And also, it was never Castorice’s idea to kill her, right? It was all the witch’s assignment, but if she goes against the witch’s directions, then…
Castorice narrows her eyes. Since when was it so hard? Since when was it so hard to kill? Why are a few sentences from this princess making her question herself?
Castorice grips her scythe. She takes another step forward, and–
She dismisses her scythe and tells the princess, “Your music is beautiful.”
Robin blinks, clearly surprised.
She puts her quill to the parchment again, but before she can write anything, Castorice tells her, “Hold on. I know PSL. Give me a moment.”
Castorice murmurs a quick incantation under her breath and what in the world is she doing? But it’s too late to turn back, isn’t it? Besides, she could always fulfill her assignment later. Taking time to chat with her victim before cursing her isn’t a bad thing, right?
(Unless you get attached, a voice in the back of her head tells her, but she ignores it. If attachment is the issue… it’s silly, but it might be too late already.)
Castorice nods at Robin once she finishes her incantation, essentially a translation spell. Robin tentatively signs, “You can understand me?”
Castorice nods.
“Thank you for the compliment,” Robin signs. “This song is new.”
“It’s beautiful,” Castorice repeats. And so are you, she doesn’t say.
After an awkward moment, Robin signs, “We never introduced ourselves. I’m Robin.” She simply uses the PSL sign for robin to sign her name. “You already know that, though.”
Castorice is about to say something when she reconsiders. Instead, she holds up her hands and signs, “I’m…” She realizes she doesn’t have a name sign and pauses. “… the Hand of Shadow. You also already knew that.”
Robin tilts her head, and after a moment of hesitation, she signs, “You can keep talking. I like your voice. It has a gentle and calming quality to it.”
Castorice flushes because no one’s ever told her that before. “Thank you,” she mumbles out. Why was she here again? To kill Robin? The thought is strangely distant in her mind as she continues this odd conversation.
Robin seems to be thinking the same thing. She signs, “You seem very sweet. I thought you came here to kill me.”
Castorice flushes again. “I… did,” she nods. “But…” She pauses, feeling awkward. “Your music was so beautiful. I…”
Robin smiles at her and stands up. “You must be that witch’s apprentice. Did he order you to kill me?”
Castorice nods.
“I see. If I play more of my songs for you, will you spare me?”
“I can’t guarantee anything,” Castorice says. She’s already deviated so far from her assignment, though. Does her answer even matter anymore?
“You can sit on the chair over there.”
Castorice nods and sits down at the chair Robin gestured to. Robin picks up her lute, gently shutting her eyes. After a moment, she starts to play.
This song is different from the first one. It’s cheerful, unapologetically hopeful, and energetic. If not for the late hour, Castorice would think this song perfectly suited for a village dance. As Robin plays, Castorice notices just how happy she looks. Her eyes are practically sparkling with joy, and her lips seem to silently mouth lyrics.
After the song ends, Castorice quietly claps. “That was wonderful,” she says. “Like running through a field underneath the sunrise… You really are an incredible musician. But could I ask… Do your songs have lyrics? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you seemed to be mouthing words as you played…”
Robin smiles. “I have written lyrics for all my songs. It’s just that I can’t sing them, but hopefully, one day I will.”
The princess pauses, and tentatively signs, “I have never shown them to anyone, but do you want to see them? You seem to have a poetic soul. Perhaps you will appreciate them.”
Castorice flushes because just why exactly is the princess so kind to the witch who tried to kill her just a few minutes ago? What even is going on?
“I would love to see them,” Castorice says instead of trying to sort out the messy thoughts in her head.
Robin smiles and sets down her lute. She walks over to her desk, picks up a book, and flips to a page. She then gently pushes the book into Castorice’s hand, and that’s when it hits Castorice because Robin’s skin is warm to the touch and Castorice’s hands have always been cold, and yet Robin slipped that notebook into her hands without fear.
What a strange princess, full of nerve and warmth and life.
No wonder Castorice’s final assignment had been to kill her; stealing this life is much harder than Castorice could’ve imagined.
Bringing herself back to reality, Castorice carefully reads the lyrics jotted down in the book in front of her:
Birds are born with no shackles
Then what fetters my fate?
Blown away, the white petals
Leave me trapped in the cage
The endless isolation
Can't wear down my illusion
Someday, I’ll make a dream unchained
Let my heart bravely spread the wings
Soaring past the night
To trace the bright moonlight
Let the clouds heal me of the stings
Gently wipe the sorrow off my life
I dream
“These lyrics are beautiful. Lyrical, yet with a bittersweet edge,” Castorice murmurs. Privately, she wonders what it was that Robin had experienced for her to write something so hopeful, yet lonely. Was it the witch’s curse?
After looking over the lyrics again, she asks, “Is this… that first song you played?”
Robin looks surprised but then nods. She reaches over and flips the page, and Castorice sees another page of lyrics:
We rise together as our destiny unfolds
We face the darkness and our trials are yet untold
Through the shadows of despair
Oh, in silence, hopes we share, woah-woah
To chase our dreams that we've declared
We glimpse, through our eyes
Yet fools, blind our sights
Can't make what they say
We'll find our way, we'll find our way
Heads up! The wheels are spinning
Across the plains, in valleys deep
To dawn, the wheels that sing
An unending dream!
Heads up! Thе tracks are running
Across the plains, wherе shadows hide
We run, we stride, woah-oh
“These lyrics feel more energetic,” Castorice notes. “More… youthful? Is that the word?” After a moment, she asks, “Is this the second song?”
Robin nods again.
Castorice gently shuts the notebook and hands it back to Robin, who takes it just as easily as she had given it to her.
The room is silent again, save for the sounds of the nightlife outside, and yet, it’s not uncomfortable. How strange. The gentle dove and the poisonous butterfly, gazing at each other under the same moon as if this was always meant to be and not merely a fleeting moment of stolen time.
At last, Castorice breaks the silence herself.
“You’ve been so kind to me, princess,” she says. “Yet I fail to understand why. Aren’t you suspicious of me? Shouldn’t you be suspicious?”
Robin pauses, then signs, “Perhaps I should be suspicious, especially due to my history with the witch, but I am not because you seemed so hesitant earlier. I knew this is not what you wanted. Besides, you’ve had plenty of chances to catch me off-guard already.”
“… You are too kind,” Castorice finally says.
“So are you,” Robin signs, and– is that a pink flush on her face?
… no, Castorice can’t be thinking of that. Every choice she’s made on this mission has been a mistake. She’s already spent too long here. She needs to go.
Castorice hastily stands up. “I think… I need to return.”
Before she can leave though, Robin grabs her wrist, her grip light enough that Castorice could easily pull away if she wanted to. She should pull away of course, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t and she doesn’t even know if she’s confused anymore because this princess has a strange way of captivating Castorice, and if Castorice hadn’t known better she’d have thought that Robin was the spellcaster of the two of them.
Robin seems to have a question in her eyes. A request, maybe, cerulean gaze trained on Castorice and waiting for an answer. Something tells Castorice that Robin isn’t impatient, that she could wait for an answer for a hundred years.
Castorice won’t let her wait for that long, though, so she merely nods, even if she’s not quite sure what she just agreed to.
Robin smiles upon receiving that response, and Castorice thinks to herself that agreeing was worth it. With Castorice’s wrist in her hand, Robin pushes open the door of her room and walks into the palace hallway, gently shutting the door behind her.
For a moment, Robin hesitates. Castorice is about to ask her about it when Robin gently slips her hand in Castorice’s own, and Castorice can’t help but feel a rush of… something. Before she can dwell on it further, Robin starts to lead her through the hallways of the dark palace.
They pass a few of the traces that Castorice left. At first, Robin seems oddly interested in them, briefly stopping to look at them before walking again. As they pass more of them, Robin begins to simply walk past them.
After some amount of time, they step outside and enter a garden.
The flowers create a vibrant painting of reds and pinks and blues in the night, and their fragrance is sweet and gentle, hanging in the cool, night air. Above the garden, the moon casts a silver glow onto the garden, and twinkling stars lay scattered across the dark sky.
“This place is lovely,” Castorice says. She idly notices that she’s still holding Robin’s hand. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Robin lets go of her hand and starts wandering down the stone path through the garden. After a moment, Castorice follows her.
It’s a very pleasant walk. Their footsteps click against the stone path, and the flowers gently rustle in the night breeze. Castorice finds her thoughts drifting again to the strange princess walking in front of her.
Captivating… Yes, that’s the right word. From the light in her eyes, to the flow of her hair, to the energy in her step, the twitch of her wings and the glow of her halo, with her sweet songs and words and the flush of her lips curved in a radiant smile… Captivating, and maybe even a little more, something Castorice can’t name, or perhaps, something she’s afraid to name.
They stop at an open courtyard at the end of the garden.
Robin walks over to a bench by the edge and motions for Castorice to join her. As Castorice sits down, Robin taps on an object hanging from Castorice’s belt, an inquisitive look in her eyes.
“This… is a diary of sorts,” Castorice explains, taking the book out. “I write my thoughts here sometimes. You can have a look if you wish.”
Robin tentatively takes the book and flips to a page. She furrows her brows in concentration as she reads before flipping to the next page. After a few minutes, with Robin reading and Castorice watching, Robin hands the book back to Castorice.
“Your poems are very beautiful,” Robin signs. “They hold a very sweet ache in them. It makes me wonder about you. Maybe one day, they could be turned into songs.” She pauses, suddenly looking bashful. “Only if you wanted that, of course.”
Castorice awkwardly nods, gripping the book in her hands before returning it to her belt. In a way, she really does want to know what her words would sound like if they took the form of Robin’s melodious strumming of her lute.
“Could you tell me about yourself?” Robin signs. “I want to know more. I am curious.”
So Castorice does.
She tells Robin about her childhood in Aidonia, about that ear of corn, and the lonely months that followed. She tells her about her first encounter with a boy called Phainon who introduced her to the great witch, and the happy years that followed that meeting.
“… but even if the witch saved me,” Castorice says, “The witch has hurt countless people in this kingdom, including you. And I followed the witch’s directions, and yet, I don’t think I’ll stop. I don’t think I can because there’s a reason I follow this path…”
Castorice lets the silence hang in the air between them as she turns her head up to the sky. Sunlight is beginning to break through the horizon, a sea of light gold underneath the gradually paling sky.
“I should go,” Castorice says, and this time, she means it. She’s spent far too long here with a beautiful Halovian she could never have deserved. She can’t even imagine what the great witch would say once she returns to the witch’s residence. Castorice will probably receive a harsh punishment, or even worse, her apprenticeship might be revoked entirely, and she doubts even Hyacine or Phainon would take pity on her after her little escapade.
Robin nods, seeming to understand her situation.
With difficulty, Castorice stands up from the bench, and Robin follows suit.
Castorice is about to leave, to turn away from this palace and the garden and the princess when Robin gently places a gloved hand on Castorice’s cheek. Stunned, Castorice finds herself unable to move as Robin lifts up her other hand and cups Castorice’s face with both of her hands.
Robin leans closer, seeming to hover for a moment as Castorice finally understands this final request.
And after all that she’s done, what’s just one more act of forbidden indulgence?
Castorice tilts her head forward, her lips meeting Robin’s.
It’s something sweet, intimate and quiet. Yet at the same time, Castorice’s heart is racing, and she feels her hands practically shaking as places them on Robin’s back. At the same time, Robin folds her headwings closer, soft feathers brushing against Castorice’s ears, and tilts her head slightly…
Then pulls away, taking a step back, eyes wide.
Her headwings open as she clutches her hands to her chest.
Castorice probably would’ve done the same if she wasn’t completely frozen with shock, her actions suddenly clear underneath the rising sun. She should’ve pulled away, shouldn’t she? “Just one more” was never a valid excuse, yet neither was the excuse of the princess being beautiful and her songs being so captivatingly poetic, even if she could only mouth her words silently, but maybe this is the insanity that the poets speak of, the blind yet ever clear-sighted feeling of–
Robin steps forward and holds Castorice’s shoulder with trembling hands. She leans forward, lips nearly brushing Castorice’s ear.
“I love you.”
Castorice’s breath catches.
Robin’s voice is beautiful. A little hoarse, slightly clumsy and clearly unused, but beautiful all the same.
Castorice feels a hot tear slip down Robin’s cheek, and she immediately moves to wipe it from her face.
Love.
That’s it.
That’s what Castorice had been so afraid to say all this time, and yet it’s the truth. An odd one, really. Castorice almost expects to wake up to Hyacine smacking her with a pillow, yelling at her for sleeping in, but she knows it’s real.
This whole night was real.
The enchanting Halovian in front of her is real, and…
The love Castorice feels for Robin is real, too.