TW! If you know used to Nicholas as a gentleman, Nicholas would use quite the profanity in this. (truthfully speaking, idk how medieval people cuss and I don't wish to go all Shakespearean here)
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞
First Nicholas and then Pierre.
How much more wrong must I do at this point?
I could only sigh as I looked up at the tattered ceiling.
Fucking hell.
This was hard.
So hard...
After the longest night of my life, during which I hadn't managed one second of sleep, I was basking in the morning sun that seeped through my window, hitting my face with its golden rays. My head is high in the clouds today; still confused and agitated over the incident with Nicholas, incredibly upset with what happened with Pierre, while all the same time weary with insomnia.
It had to be getting close to sociable hours because I heard sounds coming from my window. There are sounds of workers going about their work. There are the sounds of boots hitting the wooden floor as people walk around to start their day, as well as the disturbing sound of Nicholas starting to stir from his bed.
Fuck.
How could the wall have been so thin that I could hear every movement he made from my room?
I could hear him approaching the bathroom and the sounds of a door opening and closing. Then I heard what I assumed was his clothes thudding to the floor, and I immediately placed my palm over my ears in the hope of deflecting the rest of my attention.
I can't do this right now. Why oh why, am I paying attention to this repulsive moment? This has to be the lowest point in my life.
After taking in my surroundings, I decided it would be best to keep myself busy. I started counting everything in the room as my eyes continued to wander around and the sound of rushing water began to fill my ears, sending shivers down my spine. I clench my teeth as a disturbingly beautiful image of Nicholas flashes through my mind. Shaking my head in horror, I continue to count everything my eyes fell on.
39 square tiles and 21 triangle-shaped tiles cover the windows. Two windows can be found in my room. Together, there are 42 triangle tiles and 78 square tiles.
The floor is covered in 151 different shades of hardboard flooring. 45 of them were a beige-yellow colour. They were brownish red in 48 of them. 37 of them were ash black. Lastly, 21 of them were brownish orange.
When I finished counting everything, I realised the sound had stopped. He's not in the shower, nor is he in his room because there are no sounds coming from his quarters.
I finally got out of bed and slowly walked towards my door, taking a brief peek into the living room, only to find it empty. He left. He had already left, despite the fact that it was still very early.
A part of me was relieved that he was gone, but another part was disappointed that he had left so early in the morning.
Could it be that he was attempting to avoid me?
Is that why he left so abruptly?
Having the space to myself might be for the best, I thought. I went back into my room and looked through my closet to see if there was anything I could wear today. Upon opening it, I was bestowed with a few pretty dresses, which I don't see fit to wear. After all, I'm just a servant. Do I even have permission to wear any of these?
I was engaged in a stare-down with the dresses when I heard a knock on the front door, which I hesitantly went to answer. Hilda greeted me from behind the door, her hands crossed around her chest as she scowled. I shivered in my place at the look on her face.
Without a second to lose, she took my hand in hers and began dragging me away from my temporary safe haven, sighing dramatically in her very Hilda exaggeration sigh. I could only follow her, struggling to keep up with her quickening pace, because when Hilda sets her mind to something, nothing can stop her.
I was in a completely different room before I had a chance to think of something to say to her. As soon as I walked into the room, I was greeted by a sienna yellow wall.
"Where am I?" I asked the lady who once and still does, have ownership towards me.
"My room. I'm genuinely shocked you haven't even taken a bath yet."
"You can't blame me. It's still early morning and besides, I shared the washroom with Nicholas."
She remained silent for a while after hearing that, but then her mouth started to move, letting me know that a snarky retort was about to land square in my face. "Does it hurt you to get up earlier and run up there before him?"
"Yes," I replied with a flat tone.
You have no idea how much I wish I didn't have to face him anymore.
Sighing another low sigh, She had had enough of my nonsense and immediately went to her closet, where she began throwing sets of gowns out of her wardrobe, heaping a mess on her bed. I was pushed into her bathroom, where she instructed me to take a bath while she went to get a gown for me.
Like before, all I could do was obey her instructions. I walked out of the bathroom after a refreshing bath to find Hilda had already laid out a few pretty gowns on her bed. Among the gown available is a light pink gown that is as lovely as the garden flower, a light yellow gown that is as pretty as the morning sun, and a dark green dress gown that is as calming as the terrifying forest. A deep dark red gown, as dark as the colour of blood, is also laid on the bed, serving as another option to choose from.
As soon as I put on the red gown, Hilda practically dragged me to breakfast in the Great Hall, ignoring my protests and insisting that spending time with people would cheer me up. Apparently, my anguish over all of the flashbacks from the incident with both Pierre and Nicholas was blatantly scrawled across my face. Hilda would have typically left me and my melancholy alone if I had asked her to do so. She did say, however, that I looked worse today than when I was seriously injured a few days ago. I eventually decide to accompany her and the others, hoping that some sloppily spoken conversation will take my mind off my confused state of mind.
I sat on the outskirts of the small crowd, indulging myself in a book that Hilda had lent to me. I lifted my head and glanced around the group, moving my distant gaze across a group of people who I may have met once or twice, and back to Hilda, who was at my side, frowning when I realised that a question had relentlessly popped up in my mind.
"Hilda," I mumbled quietly, keeping my voice low to avoid interrupting the others' conversation. "Where's Pierre?"
"I didn't invite him," she told me. "After all, he made you cry. I didn't think bringing him would make you want to come."
"But still, I'd feel much more comfortable with him than these people... You know that."
"Addie," she started with a stern face. "If someone hurts you, you shouldn't keep coming to them. It's a matter of second that they would treat you however they want without regard to your feelings."
"It's not like that," I sighed, "It wasn't like that.." I muttered in a soft whisper, turning away when one of the people seated around the table said something that caught my attention. "What did you say, Jo?"
"I was talking about the rumours going around," he answered with a whisper, leaning in so only the six of us could hear. "A lot of people think that Young Lord Greysen was drinking his sorrow away. Apparently, he met someone that resembled his late fiance."
I raised an eyebrow at this. "I didn't see you as someone who cares much about rumours, Jo. Sometimes, rumours are just rumours. I wouldn't pay too much attention–"
"It could be true though," he insisted. "He keeps going to the inn every night and only leaves after he's horribly drunk; spouting nonsense as he walks along the street."
"Emphasis on the could be," I said calmly. "Even if that was true, why would it be anyone's problem what he's doing?"
"I thought you would have hated him after what he did to you," he shot back quickly. "And besides, we don't really like him. Lady Chrissy deserved way better–"
"Jo, It's my choice to feel how I would feel after what he did to me," I reminded him, rising from my seat. "You have no right to tell me how to feel. There are a lot of rumours going around at the moment. I do want to warn you that sometimes, rumours are a greater danger than poison."
"Where are you going, Addie?" A familiar redhead, asked, looking a little disappointed as I gathered my things. "You haven't finished your food."
"I'm not that hungry," I offered weakly, giving him an apologetic look. "And I think I need to take a breather."
"Well," the redhead continued. "If you like, I can walk with you."
"That's–...sure, that sounds lovely, Clifford. However, you'd have to be on your feet this instant if you want to come."
Immediately, he got up from his seat and walked up to me. I gave the others a polite nod before turning and leaving the Great Hall. As we walked, Clifford made sure to keep a safe distance away from me saying that he didn't want me to be uncomfortable with him getting too close to my personal space. I can only chuckle at that.
"I'm really sorry about what my friend did to you," he started so suddenly. "Greysen was truly inside and outside a dick, but I never thought he'd stooped that low."
I hesitate for a moment, pursing my lips in thought. "It's quite alright," I murmured. "At least he does know how to please. But truly he was undoubtedly disturbing to the core."
"Know how to please? That guy?" He leaned his back slightly and gave me his full attention.
"Well," I started awkwardly, looking at his eyes briefly before nodding.
"I beg to differ."
A crack of a smile formed on my lips as I laughed a small laugh. "I stood my ground and had no wish to find out if I was right or not."
"Your loss because that twat is obviously not that good." He said with a mockingly serious face.
Enjoying his company, despite his weird attitude, I smiled at him. "What makes you want to befriend me today, Sir Clifford?"
"Just call me Cliff. You are the star survivor. Both my friends, Greysen and Nicholas want you around. You survived a terrible fate. You are by far really interesting. Of course, I'd like to see if you are really worthy of being given so much hardship and love."
Interesting.
Been a while since anyone sees me as an interesting specimen.
"So do I seem worthy of it?"
"You are certainly worthy of love, but you truly don't deserve any of the hardships thrown your way."
"Why thank you. Sir Clifford."
He shook his head, smiling. Then he clasp his hands suddenly and turned to gaze at me. "Are you free this Saturday?" he asked.
"This Saturday?"
He nods and was quiet for a while. "I'm going out to buy some gifts for people I cared for," he said after a few quiet seconds.
"Do you want me to tag along with you?"
"I think I do since I was asking you."
"I'm sure I have the time for it."
"That's brilliant," he smiled.
We found ourselves in a library soon after. People were scattered randomly around the library, squeezed between the aisles and shelves, and huddled a little closer than normal to fight the cold. I sat with Clifford in the dark corner; lost in a lonely bubble that silenced the surrounding noise. While Clifford was reading one book about the strategy to win a war, I tried to focus on the scribbled pages in front of me, but I couldn't stop thinking about Nicholas or Pierre and what had happened to us.
Why have I done this to myself?
Finding it easy to push my sadness over Pierre, I feel quite glad and relieved. Because I only need to resolve it when I see him again. But I'm not sure how to shake it off with Nicholas. Every method of distraction I'd attempted had failed and left me with itching lips and more confusion. I wanted to know why and how it had happened, but I couldn't bring myself to bring it up with my infuriatingly ghost-like dormmate. What made it worse was I felt like everyone was staring at me, burrowing into my head and stealing my naughty secret and secretly despising me for it.
Paranoia is such a parasite.
But that wasn't even the worst thing. No matter how much I tried to reject the absurd notion, I couldn't help but think I'd been cheated in some way. It hadn't been a real kiss, and I felt like I'd missed out on some kind of conclusion or...climax.
It was like I'd been to Hell and not experienced the lick of flames.
I shouldn't have wanted to, but I really, really did. My curiosity was getting the better of me and I wanted more. I wanted...
"Adeline."
I started with a harsh gasp and gave the source of the interruption a sharp look. "Gosh, Cliff," I mumbled. "You scared me to death."
"Did you forget that I was here?"
"I might have."
The sky was already dark around seven o'clock, and Madam Kaine had lit a few extra candles to accommodate the forty-or-so snug readers. I can hear the scratch sound made by Clifford's chair as he pulls himself off it. I stared at him as he stood in front of me.
"Are you okay, Dolly?" he asked. "You seem a little distant and troubled."
"I'm fine," I shrugged, bowing my head to hide my uncertainty.
"Are we going anytime soon, Dolly? Or do you wish to stay the night here with me?"
"I truly don't mind it."
He barked a laugh to which Madam Kaine replied with a shush. A rosy tint emerged on his pinkish cheek as he lowered down to my height. "Did Nicky bully you? I'll beat him up if you want me to."
"It's okay, Cliff. I'll be okay. Let's just go then."
I turned away before he could answer and stalked towards the exit, keeping my gaze low to ignore the looks of the other readers. I could swear they were casting me suspicious glances again, and I hurried away with a heavy heart. I went separate ways with Clifford after we reached the hallway, telling him that I'd be fine. Despite my desire to avoid my room – or more precisely, the brunette who was lingering inside – my strides led me there anyway. I trembled with anxiety as I slipped inside; my nervous hazels scanning every inch of my quarters critically.
As always, the room gave no indication of his presence, and I quickly concluded that he was in his room. With a relieved sigh that any confrontation would be postponed, for the time being, I rushed towards my room with every intention of hiding away until morning, uncaring that it could be considered cowardly.
I stopped short when three steady knocks tapped against the main door, and I released a startled yelp. Goodness, why am I on such an edge?
"Who is it?" I called, my voice wavering slightly.
"It's Clifford."
I frowned at his insistence and fired a cautious look at Nicholas's room, wondering if it was wise to have a visitor when he was being such an arse. "What do you want?" I asked loudly, keeping my eyes fixed on Nicholas's door. "I'm a little busy."
"You left one of your books behind," the redhead explained. "Are you okay?"
I grimaced and slowly headed towards his voice, casting a final glance over my shoulder before I cracked open the door; just enough to prop my head against the frame and keep my body hidden.
"I was just about to have a bath," I lied when he gave me a puzzled look. "I'm in my dressing gown."
"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly, holding up the book for me to take. "Are you certain you're okay, Dolly? You've been acting a little off today."
I managed to force my mouth into an uncomfortable smile as I plucked the book out of his fingers and chucked it to land on a table behind me. "I'm just really tired," I told him, closing the door a little and hoping he would get the hint. "I think I'm going to have an early night, but thanks for bringing me the book."
"Are you sure?" he persisted, and I fought hard not to get irritated with him. After all, he was pleasant company today.
"I'm sure," I said bluntly. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, then. I'll see you on Saturday."
I released a haggard breath and rested my forehead heavily against the door, willing the oddly loud thuds in my chest to simmer. I knew that Clifford's intentions had been completely innocent and my reaction had been too defensive, but I just felt like everyone was trying to corner me today and delve into my thoughts; my secrets, and I didn't want a soul knowing what I had done.
"Who the fuck was that?"
My head whipped around so quickly that I almost lost my balance, and my chest felt ready to tear open when my heart recommenced its wild pounding. I subconsciously retreated until my back was pressed up against the door, and I placed a hand over my heaving chest; fixated on him as he leaned against the doorframe with a thunderous expression. His features were contorted into a fascinating mixture of scorn and resentment, and something else that I couldn't quite identify that made my breath clog my throat.
"Why do you have to do that?" I gasped angrily once I'd found my voice. "Do you enjoy scaring the–"
"I asked you who that was," he spat between clenched teeth, and I noticed then how tense his muscles were. "And you'd better give me a decent fucking answer, Petal."
I flinched as he pushed himself away from the wall and shifted towards me, with slow and calculated movements that reminded me of a wolf. I'd noticed that Nicholas had a defined grace and elegance that I couldn't help but admire and envy; as though every step was intentional and preplanned to be intimidating, or even seductive. I should have found it disconcerting or unpleasant but, dear god forgive me, I couldn't help but be intrigued.
"Are you deaf, Pet–"
"It was just Clifford," I murmured, shrugging off the outer linen cloth I used as my jacket and heading to the sofas. "He's just been basically aro–"
"So you've been with that twat all day," he ground out, his tone still low and dark. "Typical, Clifford. What did he want from you?"
"He was returning my book," I explained uneasily as he continued to near me; arms folded arrogantly over his chest. "Why do you–"
"And why would that sad little prick think you would be meeting him on Saturday?"
I raised my eyebrows at him. "You were eavesdropping?"
"Just ANSWER the fucking question!" he demanded harshly, slamming his palms against the back of the other couch. "Why would you be meeting him?"
"What business is it of yours?"
He clicked his jaw and shook his head like he was catching himself before he did something foolhardy. His storm-cloud eyes flickered between me and the floor while he chewed his tongue and seemed to gather a few soothing breaths. I studied him closely and dampened my lips with a flick of my tongue, waiting nervously for his response.
"It's my business when he's inviting himself here," he answered carefully. "I'm not in the mood to see any of your sodding friends–"
"He didn't see you and if you have forgotten, he was your friend–"
"And if you plan on slagging it around then–"
"HOW DARE YOU!" I screamed, rising from my seat and marching towards him. "You have NO right to talk to me in that way–"
"I can talk to you however I want," he countered calmly, craning his neck to loom over me. "If you don't tell me, then I'll draw my own conclusions–"
"This is ridiculous!" I hissed. "He asked me to tag along with him when he goes out to buy gifts–"
"And why do you need to go with him?" he growled, as though the notion revolted him and left a sour taste on his tongue. "So you are fucking that repulsive piece of–"
"Oh, for fuck sake, Nicholas!" I shouted, oblivious to how close our proximity was while I was clouded by my frustration. "Not that any of it was your business, I was just being nice! It's not like I'm dying to go with him!"
His mouth snapped shut with an audible clap, and I felt like he was stripping me with his glare as his eyes darted over my face. I realised how close he was then; close enough that his breath stirred some of the hairs on my forehead, but I didn't move despite every instinct screeching at me to do so.
Remember what happened last time you were this close...?
If he was bothered by our proximity, he would have budged, but he didn't. And I could swear that something close to relief washed across his pale features. He tilted his head slightly and dropped his shoulders, and the room seemed to fill with static as his earlier rage dissipated.
I turned to leave, but his cold grip coiled around my wrist before I could get any distance between us.
Just shove him away...This is too close...
"What now?" I asked, refusing to look back at him. "I have answered your questions and put up with enough of your–"
"I'm not finished," he muttered, clenching my arm a little tighter. "I have another question."
I scoffed. "I see no reason why I should–"
"Why did you–" He started but stopped mid-air shutting his lips tightly soon after. I blinked to myself and slowly twisted my neck to give him a confused look.
"What–"
"I thought after our fight last night," he said reluctantly. "That you wouldn't have–"
"At this point, we fight every day, Nicholas–"
"Last night was different."
The room felt like a vacuum, and I could swear I actually felt the air being dragged out of my lungs. Nicholas's eyes looked softer then; like milky smoke, and I was completely fixated on them. After his infuriated rant and outright denial of our demi-kiss last night, his words had completely thrown me. We both knew what he was referring to when he'd said different, and it crackled between us like dangerous flames; too hot to touch but too powerful to ignore.
The kiss.
"I'm not sure what it is that I did, but I'm sure I wouldn't have let our fight affect anything between us," I said, breaking the silence awkwardly.
"It would be normal if you do," he argued, and I watched with disappointment as his features returned to the bitter and sharp scowl I began to know so well. "And I'm sure you want to lecture me with some tedious moral about kindness or some shit but I really couldn't give a fuck–"
"You asked me the question," I protested, tugging my wrist free from his hold and walking away from him. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight Nicholas."
The wind was screaming like tortured toddlers tonight, and I was convinced my clock was lying.
If it really was three in the morning, then I had been staring blankly at my ceiling for four hours and that just wasn't healthy. I had secluded myself in my room and adamantly refused to leave, amusing myself with finishing every book I got from Hilda today. That had lasted for three hours, and since then I'd tried desperately to manage some sleep, but it was all in vain.
And it wasn't even because of the loud wind tonight.
No matter how hard I tried to eradicate Nicholas from my mind, I couldn't; be it stubborn flashbacks of our pseudo-kiss or just general musings about his new odd behaviour. I found myself fascinated by him as much as I tried to reject it.
I wanted him to view me differently, and I was fairly certain he was starting to.
At least I hoped he was.
I sat up and rubbed my face with my palms, wondering if my interest in him was really appropriate or healthy. Probably not.
A shiver chased up my spine as the cold wind continuously pricked my skin. I had three blankets covering my tiny body at this point and even that wasn't enough for me to battle the chill of November's sickening cold breeze.
I'm probably going to freeze to death soon.
Clank.
I turned my head to the source of the sound; my door, to see Nicholas's head prop from behind it, staring right at me.
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I don't normally interact like this but this is a long chapter... and you finished it... have a cookie 🍪congratulations.