Bad Temptations

Better days

It felt that not a moment had passed and I had woken up again, this time the room I was in was much noticeably darker. The shades were drawn, the lamp was lit, and it became harder to distinguish the details of the unrecognizable room.

For a moment, again, I had thought we were in a tavern, trying to rest up as much as Alex and I could before we set off on our journey again. I look around the room, observing my neck and head felt tremendously better after my small rest.

I peer to the side of me and I acknowledge that the bundle of blankets that were full when I was first awake, were now almost lifeless and flat without Alex residing in them.

I browse the room trying to find where he had gone, and discover him sitting in the rocking chair by the lamp with a book in hand. I stare at his focused face. The scar on his lip makes him look tough, but his round face reminds me of a small fluffy animal you would see frolicking the forest. His hair clearly disheveled, hinting at the nap he took in the blankets. His eyes flicker between lines and words and I can't help but wonder what he is reading. His head rests in his veiny hands, giving a relaxed look—one I haven't been able to capture often.

I've never seen him do such a mundane thing. And I've just realized he has been given no leisure time since I've gotten here. When we get back, that is number one on my to-do list.

That reminds me—the wedding.

I don't want to get married, much less have to dress up for people I don't know, get married to someone I don't trust, and live with someone who doesn't love me. I let out a quiet sigh and clear my mind. I can worry about all this when I get back. Right now I just want to take a moment to relax before I think about how much Bill will be upset by us.

I continue staring, unable to look away but not wanting to get caught. I take a moment to appreciate what Alex has done for me. Although it was his job, he put his own life in the line to save mine. The amount of times I've had to thank him while being here is astonishing. I've never been in this amount of danger back in my kingdom.

Getting tired of my position, I sit up, alerting Alex that I am awake.

He calmly sets down his book and I wince, feeling all the wounds at once.

"How are you feeling?"

I scoff and set my pillow against the headboard of the bed and lean back.

"Like I fell down a hole and died."

Alex smirks and puts his book back on a shelf behind him, standing up.

"Do you feel well enough to get dinner with me?" He asks, putting out his hand for me to take.

"I thought we were done playing the 'married couple' ruse?" I lift an eyebrow, sending him a wink.

He chuckles and shakes his head.

"No, but I'm happy to role-play with you later, if you'd like." I pause getting up from the bed, not expecting that kind of response. Alex only laughs at my reaction.

"I was joking, Dipper. Don't be so cheeky." I shove him playfully but lean on him once again.

"How are you holding up?" I ask, wanting to change the conversation.

He shrugs and opens the door for me before going right back to my side to help me out.

"I've had worse. Don't forget I was trained for this too, darling. Fighting is my forté." I nod my head, focused on not twisting wrong as to send bursts of pain to my back.

"Hey, now that we're in the clear, what did my back really look like?" I say, giving him a lopsided smile.

"Well let's just say it wasn't just a scratch."

"Well I figured that much."

Comfortable silence engulfed us the rest of the way to the dinning room. The places we passed seemed nostalgic, and suddenly I began to miss home. The paintings on the walls have a familiarity and I longed to stay and stare at the landscapes or family trees displayed on the walls, but the urge of Alex's arm wrapped around my own and the constant reminder of my stomach made me wobble on.

As we pass another hall, I almost collapse as I catch a glimpse of a certain painting in a separate room.

"Wait. There. Let's go in there." I point toward the half open door and Alex eyes me weird, but guides me there anyhow.

As we walk in, I notice the room is filled with random treasures, displayed on bookshelves and small tables. There was a couch and chair in the corner, and a fireplace against a wall. But it was the thing above it that I was most concerned about.

It was a painting of my family and I. Mother, father, sister and I all in a painting. I was young in the painting, no more than eight. Mabel and I were in the front, and my parents standing in the back. Everyone had nice smiles on, but the eyes were daunting. They were almost saying; "Don't you remember us? Don't you remember what we represented? Keep thinking it was dream, because it was. This wasn't real. Just a moment of hope."

I look back at my parents holding hands. If only any of us knew. I look at Mabel and I, adolescence clear on our faces. That was the last painting made before...

"We can leave now, I'm starving."

We turn around and without a word, we were back on our way to the dining room.

I could tell Alex had burning questions, but I'm glad he kept them to himself. I don't think I would be able to respond to them in a non-emotional way.