Painted Lies and Demon Eyes (SVTFOE Fan Fic)

Amnesiac

The only thing that seemed to be new today was the lingering stares from the servants as I passed by in the corridors. Or maybe it wasn't new at all. Maybe my own ignorance made it easier before. What once had been passable had now become somewhat of an increasing succession of uneasiness. Whatever it was, I seemed to amplify it.

On my route to the first floor, to the kitchen, eyes seemed to follow. When I caught them in my peripheral, I turned, only for their eyes to dart away and look down. 

Was my own presence in my castle becoming a bother to my servants? 

Had I overstayed my welcome? 

Was I even Prince? 

A voice from my right startled my absent-minded thought and my eyes shot up at the sound. Immediately upon noticing my presence, their chatter halted abruptly and they looked up too. 

They were both shorter than me, yet one slightly taller than the other. In their thin, feeble arms, they each carried neatly folded linens from the wash room. Their leisure walk accelerated into a slightly quicker pace. 

"Sorry." I mumbled, continuing in the opposite direction, down from which they had just come. 

Their talk began up again, secret murmurs of exchange. 

I stopped. 

"Hey, wait!" I pivoted. They startled, turning around, each looking at one another in a baffled expression before both staring at me. My tone was too loud and urgent. I cleared my throat before restarting in a more casual manner. My hand reached out as if to stop them or hold them back. I retracted it. 

"How… how long have I been here?" 

I was about to abort the question and interaction altogether just by watching their silent, dumbfounded states for a while, yet one of them spoke up. It was a strange question, but I needed to know. 

"Uh, nearly two weeks." The shorter one spoke. 

Wait… what? 

"Oh…" My voice had somehow gotten smaller and sounded strained. A knot twisted inside of me. "Uh, okay… thanks." 

I practically swung the kitchen doors open and slammed them shut in one fluent motion. The whole room seemed to spiral and colors blurred together. The vertigo was nauseating. I had to catch myself on the sturdy island when my knees gave out under me and I tripped over my own feet. 

I retreated to the back of the kitchen, practically collapsing onto the handle and pulled it outwards. Almost immediately, the walk-in cooler's gust of air pricked at my face.

Sinking into its embrace and its welcoming cold temperature, I reached for the nearest bottle of water on the shelf. My grasp was clumsy however, and I almost dropped it. My shaking fingers struggled with the cap for a long, excruciating minute until it popped off. 

The cool, refreshing sensation washed away the dry sting in my throat and eased my pace. When I ceased to breathe, my back hit the wall and I slowly plummeted to the ground.

"Nearly two weeks." 

Tom was right. 

No. He was wrong. He had to be. I lived here. I lived my last 114 years in this damn castle for Devil's sake! 

I had horns, fangs, adolescent markings - wings! 

But does that even mean anything? 

My external breath came out in a cloud against the chilling air and I leaned my head back on the wall behind me. 

Nearly two weeks.