The Untold Story of Riverria

Chapter 12: What Feeling Can Cut Someone to the Depth of Their Soul?

So guys you prbably don't want to hear me rambling rite now but, there's nothing for Simon to do so this chapter is another Alina P.O.V. Thanks guys!!! And I'm so so so so so so so so sorry that I haven't updated for like 3 weeks but I have had nothing to write about and I was also in Fiji a few days ago and there was no wifi so yeah..I'm really really sorry! But still I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Alina's P.O.V

To be brutally honest with you, spending the time with Layton so far was a waste of time. Picture this, you walking around in a place you've never been before right after you were almost killed. You don't know where your only friend is and you're currently stuck with a random, somewhat decent looking stranger, who claims he's here to protect you, who's also cocky and arrogant and has decided to shut up after you had a spaz attack and cried like a baby.

Yep not awkward....

Not awkward at all...

My thoughts drifted to Logan and I wondered where he was. He was my life support in Riverria and I wanted him to be here with me right now.

"Uh..up ahead is my place and that's where we're going to stay tonight. Then tomorrow I'll bring you to the royal safe house, which is hopefully where everyone is...." I heard Layton say to me.

I looked up from the ground and saw a medium sized cottage up ahead in the distance. Okay so it wasn't much compared to what I was used to in the palace but it was a start. At least I had a place to stay for the night.

"So..ur...just up ahead." Layton pointed. "Follow the stepping stones up to the door. It's not much but it'll have to do your highness."

I nodded my head. "Wait...what are you doing? Where are you going?"

"Just to somewhere...." He responded rubbing the back of his neck. "Ur...yeah.."

"Okay." I shrugged my shoulders.

I made my way up to the door following the marble stepping stone. The wooden door creaked when I pulled it open.Surprisingly the thatched roof actually provided warmth. The interior was decorated with palm woven fans and hats. A fire burned in the hearth right next to the door lighting up the room with a reddish orange light. Wooden floorboards creaked under my steps but it was a sound I was too familiar with. A small kitchen lay in the far right corner of the house. A seating area lined with beautifully woven leaves was set in the middle of the house.

Three doorways lined the back of the room and I entered the middle one first. Inside lay a large king single bed in front of a window, beside it sat a wooden bedside table. Natural green dyed bed sheets covered the bed. A giant wardrobe was pushed back to the back wall.

Wow! He didn't take me for someone who was into nature....

I made my way to the room on the left. The inside of it was much the same as the previous one that I went to but instead of green bed sheets there were sunset themed. A window that looked out into a garden held a pot plant on its window sill.

Last was the room on the right. It was Layton's one. That's for sure! But it was unlike what I had expected. It was organised in a messy way. All his clothes lay in a pile to the right side of his room and the other side was filled with numerous numbers of books. Stacks upon stacks of them. I jumped up and down excitedly. The first book that I picked up was a book called "The Mariner", a man dressed in a mariner's uniform held the centre focus of the cover.

When I opened the book and started reading I realised that it was told in diary form. I set the book aside and worked on reading another one until I saw an old, tattered looking journal laying in the middle of all the piles of books. Picking it up and opening it I realised it was hand written.

I watch her from the window again today. So lovely and glowing. I loved her. I loved her very much. I don't think I tell her, "I love you Irine" enough. Maybelle was sitting between her legs and looking up at her mother her eyes glittering with childhood excitement. I'm so proud. I'm so proud to be her father. She is all that I dreamed of. She has my eyes and her mother's face shape. I know that she will become a beautiful girl one day and that I will have to fight all the boys off of her.

Right underneath that entry is a rough sketch of two girls sitting on a picnic blanket. The younger looking one sat between the older ones legs. The frame of the window could be seen bordering the edges of the sketch.

Maybelle is full of energy. A youngsters' energy you could say..so much that she always seems like she's bursting from it. Right now she is learning how to cook. Not really but she's sitting on her high chair watching Irine cook. I hope she learns to cook Irine's soup as good as her because I want to try it someday.

And right underneath this entry was again a rough sketch, but this time of a little girl sitting in a high chair peering over it and watch a lady who seems like she's bent over a mixing pot. I flip the page, mesmerised.

She's learning how to walk now. Sometimes she falls over but Irine and I are always there to catch her when she does. She looks so much like Irine. I love her so much! Sometimes Maybelle watches the two of us just hugging each other. Just watches, she never says anything but I think she understands the love and affection her mother and I have with each other.

The next sketch has a little girl holding onto the handle of a chair, taking a step, determination set in her cute cherub like face. The next sketch has a couple sitting against a sofa on the ground and the same little girl watching her hands still of movement but still hugging a soft toy.

A picture falls out of the book as I turn the page. A photo of Layton, the woman in his sketches and the little cherub girl that he talks about in his entries. Just looking at the picture I can see that the couple are in deep love with each other. I can also see that they love their child very much.

Layton was a father!

A hand snatches the picture away from my grip and I turn to see a furious looking Layton towering over me his eyes flashing dangerously. Although a detectable amount of pain is etched in them something else rings out loud and clear. A feeling that cuts through me to the depth of my soul.

Guilt.