Heartful || Heartless Sequel/Fanfiction ||

Ch.7 || Diamonds

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Mostly powdered breads and sweet wines filled the tables as if it were the stomach of a hungry man. Velvet wasn't fond of cakes much less sweets. Growing up she never had a sweet tooth for desserts. If she were to pick the least vulgar item that wasn't already coated with cream or a sticky sauce she'd have to go with the salads; as if eating tuna out of a leaf made any difference for her. She gawked when her brother stuffed his face with a load of chocolate cake and vanilla cream. For having a poor personality he made up for it wondrously in appetite.

"Manners, Red." she sighed.

Red glanced over Velvet's shoulder towards a beefy man with wooden toned hair, he already had streaks of white running down his scalp and coughed every once in awhile into his hand. A stick of a woman had her thin arm wrapped around his and wore an excruciating color of green making her auburn hair appear rather less than vibrant.

Red swallowed, picking at his teeth. "Since when do Pa and Ma attend any of the royal galas?" he inquired. "Shouldn't the Marquess and Marchioness be preparing for the Blooming Festival?"

Velvet turned her attention towards them, in a sea of dancing lords and ladies they seemed the most out of place. Her grandmother's hair was not even perfectly done and the sapphire clip on her head was to fall sooner or later. Her grandfather would have been in a much worse state if it weren't for a tight belt at his waist keeping every bit of fat in. She allowed herself a peek at her mother when the King strode away from the diamond queen to greet his in-laws. He giggled and jumped placing kisses on their hands and failing to lighten the obvious mood. They seemed as if mourning for the dead with those gloomy faces of theirs. When Catherine caught their eyes she turned the other way choosing to avoid any contact with her parents.

"Haven't you ever wondered why mother resents them so?" Velvet scowled.

"Maybe they weren't good parents. Seeing how mother is, I can't blame her. She probably gets that nasty attitude of her's from them."

"Mother can be nice." It was a lie and they both knew it. "Sometimes..."

Velvet felt pity for the old couple. How awful they must have felt watching as their only child turned their back on them. Three years had passed since Rock Turtle Cove had faced an awful thunderstorm, she still remembered when Catherine withheld all the help from the kingdom. She denied any entrance into the estate unless it were of 'diplomatic relations', stating servants would handle the situation. But when everything had been cleared- from the flocking birds to dangling seaweed-every bit of damage was permanent. Cracking floors and mossed covered walls was all that was left of it with only a small portion of the place unharmed. Library books were soaked with rain, and a crumbling roof that lasted only about a week before the entire thing collapsed. Repairing it took time and money they hardly had but were grateful when the King lended a hand even at his wife's ferocity.

"Have you gathered any information on the... joker?" asked Red, attempting to switch the conversation to a less depressing one.

"It's been hard. Especially after you put a blade at your brother's throat." It had been a foolish move in Red's part, threatening the Crown Prince.

"I get it." Red rolled his eyes. "You don't have to keep making such a big deal about it."

She turned toward him, her voice a whisper. "What if you had been caught by someone else? What then?" Red ignored the bright pink of her face. "I know how you feel. But this takes time. If we wish to get rid of him you can't be obvious. It's that simple. Because if anything, anything Red, were to happen to him, you would be the first suspect."

Red spit the sour contents in his mouth into a napkin when she left. He wished he could push the words away but Time would soon catch up to him ready to place a crown on his brother's head and Velvet's words still lingered on.

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The black collar suffocated him as he walked passed the crowds of people, he loosened it when the cold breeze of winter hit his cheeks and gave him an odd warmth inside. The gardens were beautiful this time of year, spreading paths of roses into the night and throwing petals into the winds of Hearts. He thought of how many more rose trees needed to be planted to make it appear more bloodier than it already did. Although there were mixes of both green and red he found that white could have made an astonishing addition to his mother's collection. Crow breathed in the fresh air with a fragrance of mint. He was glad to be away from balls and people and pounding music that felt forever lasting.

Crow set his attention on a spot of grass behind a set of bushes. He allowed the bark of wood to hold his head for a moment before taking in another deep breath. The rainbows of blue passing through the glass windows of his home seemed much more distant in this part of the area. He hoped no one found him here or realized that he was missing. It was a feeling of pleasure to be alone far from those talkative offers of courtship or politics.

Red roses hung from their boughs diminishing the feeling of being by oneself. He pondered on if all these little flowers were his mothers little spies, following his every movement. Or perhaps it would make more sense if they were his brother's. Like eyes waiting for him to make a mistake, waiting for an open opportunity.

He fumbled his fingers across the grass, sitting cross-legged. His touch caressed the dirt bellow enjoying the presence of its earthly feeling. The tip of his fingers danced by a fallen blossom with the color of white in its petals. It stood out from the other roses around him. Differed from those that hung on the branches. It was wrecked with age and dehydration almost tarnished if only the center was still glowing with life.

He stared at it with utmost curiosity.

An interesting white species blooming within soldiers of red. How peculiar indeed. This rose was beautiful, despite its flaws, pure with hope and a singe of despair. It had lost a battle but still held onto life when everything around it seemed lost. A beauty carved only if one believed.

The shadow of a man spread across his legs taking in all the light. Crow stared, aware something was watching him.

Cautiously, Crow spun to find it had quickly disappeared.

His arms felt heavy when he went to pick himself up. Something softly thumped beside Crow's feet, followed by the jingling of bells.

"Take it." A voice of certain familiarity told him.

Hatta grinned although it was hard to tell with only moonlight to see. The man sat casually on a thick branch playing with his locks of hair. 

Without words, Crow fetched what he assumed was his thank you present from the dirt. Beaten with age were the tips of a jester's hat. It had a rusting bell with two golden ones clutching the ends of it and a material that faded into gray.