Bolivia, with a reptilian intuition—Kaden didn't really know if they had good intuitions, but considering Noah's dragon blood and his sharp mind, he assumed so—appeared nearby with an eager smile.
She made her presence known to Kaden, who informed her in following of Richard Hall's death. The recording stone could be played three times, and another two if one could accept unclear images.
Kaden walked over to where she waited, by a step of stone stairs that led outside an abandoned house, and quietly pressed the rock against her palm.
Flinching, she scowled at the touch before her heart seized, a burning flame beating in her ribcage. Images steadily streamed behind her eyes and they shuttered, lids closing as her eyes rapidly moved behind.
In silence, Kaden held the rock over her palm and waited for the recording to play.
Bolivia shuddered and snapped her slitted gaze open, slapping away his hand. In return, he thoroughly wiped his fingers that had barely grazed her on his pants.
The woman sneered. "You barely touched me."
"You'd be surprised how diseases spread."
"Are you calling me diseased?" She hissed, rubbing the back of her hand.
Kaden blinked innocently. "I didn't. But it appears you're suggesting it." He smiled pleasantly as she snarled, both pairs vigorously rubbing their skin where fingertips and back of palm touched.
When they were both satisfied at the successful eradication of germs, Bolivia grinned cheerily, recalling the images that had played in her head.
"So he's dead." Then, for good measure, she repeated herself. "He's dead! Killed by the beautiful prince himself, fantastic. This is brilliant, human! We can use this, we-we can expose that filthy man for his real personality—"
Kaden snorted, shaking his head as she stilled, perplexed. The excitement remained gleaming in her eyes, but she frowned.
"Are you mocking me, human?"
"I wouldn't dare." replied Kaden smoothly, rubbing his arms. "But I apologize. The idea that destroying Reed is a futile one—it's ridiculous. I would've done so if I could."
"But Richard Halls... I investigated him. He's made quite the name of himself—"
"Richard Halls may have made a name for himself, but in the grand scheme of society, he was insignificant. Reed needs only to reveal a bit of detrimental information to clear his name. It's a power game. If we throw our little piece of evidence without thinking, he'll snatch and burn it."
The woman faltered, her shoulders deflating. Kaden felt a hint of pity that soon faded. She played the role of a being that matched her appearance—pretending to be frightening when she was naive to the matters of human society.
Had the tragedy not occurred, destroying everything she adored, she may have peacefully lived in her forest without ever encountering humans.
Perhaps, she wouldn't even have learned the taste of searing anger, of humiliation and destruction. The word vengeance may never have appeared before her. Thankfully, the woman was quick to adapt and understand, her joy fading into a familiar cold.
It really was unfortunate.
If Reed Chauvet could be ruined so easily, he would not be the Crown Prince. He would not be the man that Kaden both feared and once loved, in every piece that made him.
Kaden once wondered about the other's fears and weaknesses. In his youth, despite their deteriorated relationship, he had directly approached the prince and asked straightforwardly, "What do you fear, Reed? What are your weaknesses?"
Reed had placed down his book in hand, disbelief swirling in the confused blue gaze. He opened his mouth, then closed it, seeming conflicted on how to respond.
The teenager, at the time, simply stared in silence.
"...you're honestly asking me that question, Kaden?"
The boy, three years younger, blinked and nodded. "Yes."
Reed was left staring blankly at the foolish boy, asking a stupidly honest question. He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples.
"Listen here—" He stopped himself, palming his face as he groaned in frustration. It was a manner unfitting of the future king, but Reed could hardly care at that moment. "Tell me, why in the world would I tell you that?"
The younger boy blinked again, lips set in a deep frown. "You won't?"
"Of course I won't. Why would I give my enemy a weakness to use against me?"
"Enemy..." Kaden muttered, having yet to put a name to their terrible relationship. He hadn't understood it yet, exactly what that word meant. "That means I can't ask?"
Reed seemed a little bemused and a little irritated. "You can't. Because you're a fool, Kaden, I pity you a little. That's the only reason I'll give you some advice, alright? The only reason. Understand?"
Kaden didn't understand entirely, but he nodded anyway.
"I'm fairly certain you don't, but you will eventually. Listen. If you really want to know the answer," Reed gestured for the boy to come closer, leaning against his knees. "You need to watch. Observe your enemy—observe me closely."
The young boy stood quietly, head hanging obediently as he listened. The teenager's voice remained almost gentle, but carried a firm meaning.
"I've never, and will never, hide my weakness from you."
"Why?"
The boy asked curiously, despite a hesitant fear in his emerald gaze. A silence fell between them, boy and teenager, yet to be tormented by time. Reed swallowed, feeling the ball clump in his throat as his hand shook.
"I will behave in the way I believe I must. However cruel, however wrong, I am not pretending to be anything other than myself. And yet, my greatest fears and weaknesses are available for you to see."
"Then, Reed. Can I use that weakness against you?"
Reed laughed suddenly, coughing into his hand. "You can. But I have a feeling, knowing you, that you won't be able to find it. Even if you watch me carefully."
Kaden felt insulted, even if it wasn't directly stated. The boy glared, and Reed sighed with a lopsided smile twitching at his lips. "Do you want to know why? Because you're a fool, Kaden. And you could never imagine my weakness—and the day that you do, it'll be because something significant has greatly altered your life. Altered you."
The prince stood, walking over to his sofa and fell backwards on it, book in hand. He stared at the expanse of his ceiling, every corner built for royalty.
He smiled, but not at Kaden.
"What am I doing? What have I already done, and what will I do?" A maniacal laugh erupted from his chest, bellowing out as Kaden flinched.
The boy stiffened nervously, taking a step towards the sofa as Reed laughed into his hands, clutching his face. Then, the teenager stilled suddenly, pain wracking his body as the tremour of laughter faded into a seething pain under his skin.
His voice softened impossibly. "Leave, Kaden."
"But—"
"Please."
Neither a yell or a scolding, only a soft plea left Reed's lips, gaze still fixated on the ceiling. For some reason, that terrified the young boy even more than a beating would've.
He took a step back and then dashed out of the room.
That was likely the last time that Kaden recalled the two having a civil conversation. Reed's personality underwent incredible changes after, to the point of frightening Kaden. As a punishment, the young boy would no longer be beaten by abusive servants—those had oddly disappeared after that night.
However, he would be trapped in the confines of that dark room downstairs. He would be starved, mocked, and the violence of his mind manifested in scars on his body. He'd claw the walls and beg for release until blood smeared and his fingernails cracked.
A young child could only tolerate so much isolation and darkness before pleading for the light. Especially a child who had only just learned of kindness—they were even more desperate to remain in the light.
There were a few servants that would find amusement in venturing downstairs to vent their anger on him, through beatings and jeers, insults and laughter from beyond the closed door. They laughed while he cried, and laughed harder when he flopped around the room, soundless screams rebounding off the walls.
Reed refused to see him again, unless he absolutely had to after that. He stayed clear of all things to do with Kaden for a long time.
Therefore, Kaden was subject to the servants' mistreatment. The old ones had been replaced, but with the new came the realized delights in abusing a child meant to be in a higher position, yet treated as much lesser.
They would fish Kaden from the isolation room, covered in grime, blood and liquids as they scrunched their noses and deemed him a filthy sewer rat, crafted from the slums. It was a stench that would never wash out.
The King took interest in him at some point—Kaden's memories were foggy and uncertain.
He made Kaden, who found solace in Princess Rosa Alexandra, a perfect killing tool. The boy, eager to please, had been uncertain. That was what plagued Kaden the most.
He did not kill the runaway princess due to the curse.
The days had continued mindlessly, endlessly, until one day he was deposited before Reed. The teenager, older, colder, gazed at the ruined body with such disgust, the child had curled up even more into himself as if attempting to erase his existence.
A hand had reached out, and the child with tightly squeezed eyes, flinched sharply.
Reed froze. Kaden did not know what happened after.
"Mind to human? You certainly get distracted often, don't you?" Bolivia's impatient voice interrupted his thoughts, and Kaden jerked his shoulder where her hand was about to touch.
Bolivia's lips curled in disgust, snatching her hand away. "It's not as if I wanted to touch you either, human."
"I know," Kaden breathed. "I apologize. I don't do well with touch."
He didn't do well, but he was doing better. A mere flinch compared to a violent jerk, tremours running up and down his body. Unparalleled fear that dropped to the pits of his stomach.
Thanks to that dragon. Thanks to Noah Bellamy.
Kaden repeated that name in his head several times, chasing away the remnants of lingering memory. Bolivia had nothing to say, feeling a little awkward and decided to fiddle with her hair instead, untangling the locks.
"Regardless, it doesn't take a genius for Reed to soon learn that there's somebody pulling at the strings in the background. Be careful."
"Worry more about yourself."
"Believe me, your death would be only a minor inconvenience."
"Good, I think I'd rise from the death from sheer irritation if I heard you blubbering over my corpse."
Kaden raised his eyebrows in amusement. "I'll leave you to rot exactly where you die."
Bolivia grinned, a sharp row of teeth revealing itself. "Perfect." Then she sighed. "Well, I'm admittedly disappointed that it wasn't as simple as I'd expected. What's next, human? What now, when Richard Halls is dead?"
It was difficult to predict a persons' next moves, especially a character like Reed Chauvet, whose motivations were impossible to determine.
"Like I said, he won't sit still. And if he determines he needs to reassess his allies, I will be the first to know."
"What? Why?"
A soulless smile spread on the man's lips. "Because I am the loyal dog of the Royal family. Because if he decides somebody needs to be eliminated, he will not dirty his hands again so soon."
Bolivia clicked her tongue. "I despise humans."
"You despise most living things." reminded Kaden. "Anyway, there isn't much we can do. Continue stirring the pot—spreading rumours, gossip. I'll wait for Reed's reaction, and if it's as pleasant as I imagine it to be, I'll create more discord."
"How?"
"Exposing that video to the kingdom will do nothing. Reed can sway the public's opinion—but what about his allies? His allies who are in the same position as Richard Halls? What happens when they remember that they're dispensable?"
Bolivia grinned. "They'll abandon him. They'll scatter like rats in order to survive."
"And Reed doesn't do well to his allies betraying him—even if he intended to do the same, eventually."
"A collapse of their network. Those related to Richard Halls—"
"—will die. Your revenge will meet success."
"And what of Reed?"
Kaden paused, feeling his heart quicken. It thrummed against his ribs, a beat faster at any mention of his once beloved saviour. "Either he or I will have to decide the finale of our tale."
The woman spun around, eyes narrowing. "I always knew that it would end in bloodshed and nothing else. I prefer his death over yours, but I'll move on. But does that dragon know? Does Noah Bellamy understand exactly how far you intend to go?"
"I haven't explicitly stated it but I believe it's implied."
"If it hasn't been said, you cannot expect him to know. Even if he fears or suspects, it doesn't become true until you say it. Nothing becomes certain until it is spoken out loud."
"It isn't necessary—"
"If you die!" Bolivia hissed sharply, spinning around again with irritation. "You— for all you claim to love him and trust him, you don't! Will you die in silence, alone in the shallows of an alleyway while he finds neither your soul nor your corpse?"
Kaden's expression collapsed slightly and he turned, lowering his head. "You don't understand, Bolivia."
"I don't? You don't. I'm sure you've been running in circles around the same repeating conversations, and yet nothing changes!"
"I'm scared!" snapped Kaden in an outburst.
Bolivia's eyes rounded in surprise. "What?"
There were things easier told to a stranger with no attachments or affection. Even if Kaden confessed his pathetic thoughts and received judgement, it did not matter. He did not fear the snake woman's opinion.
Thunder struck in the clouds above suddenly, a roar in the skies. A torrent of rain poured down the next second, colliding harshly with the ground.
"I'm terrified," Kaden said slowly, shoulders steadily rising as his words were muffled by the rainfall. "Of dying and them moving on. Of killing the first person I remember loving, even if it was warped. I don't want to lose everything I've gained, but if I don't do this, I'm even more scared that I won't be able to move forward."
"If I don't suggest the possibility of death out loud to him, it doesn't become real. I don't want it to be real, Bolivia."
"I don't want to die yet."
The rain was loud, but the woman's hearing was sharp. They stood in silence, rain streaking down both their faces to paint a miserable appearance. She wondered, if it hadn't been raining, would she have seen tears streaming down that man's face?
"Telling Noah would be a kindness, Bolivia. And I'm nothing more than a wretched and scared fool. I won't tell him. I can't."
The anger in her dissipated in mere moments, washed into the streams of water running through the cracks in the street. All living things, she knew, were woven of such unique complexities that nobody could fully undo and understand.
The conflict that stirred Kaden's mind was an example of such. His trust in the dragon was undying and eternal—he would place his heart in those clawed hands with a smile.
But the moment Noah acknowledged the possibility of tragedy, it tore Kaden away from the sweet delusions of laughter and tranquillity. To death, even if it meant overwhelming grief to his loved ones, he wanted to believe in his survival.
That one day, their envisioned future would be realized.