~ Puppet and Strings ~

"M'lady!" A servant called out with a distressed expression. "Young miss, please don't do that!"

"Shut your mouth!" Catrina barked, tearing up the skirts of her new dresses. "I hate them! I hate them all!"

This morning a carriage arrived from Estelle's Boutique, one of the high-class boutiques within aristocratic society. In order to shop there, you needed to meet a series of requirements. Madam Estelle only served those with higher statuses and a certain amount of wealth.

It had taken her mother several attempts in order to make an appointment with the exclusive designer. After many tries and several months of being wait-listed, Catrina had finally visited the boutique for measurements and shopping. She ordered several sets of sparkly and heavily decorated dresses, ones befitting her status as a noble.

Unfortunately, ever since the first Princess and the third Prince's banquet, Princess Winter had started a new trend within the capital. Nowadays young ladies mimicked her style of elegant and classic dresses. Less dresses with heavy decorations and bright colours were available in store. Instead, boutiques focused on pastel and neutral colours as well as elegant and simple designs.

"I'll be completely ridiculed if I show up in these dresses!" Catrina screamed and threw the torn-off decorations at her bedroom wall in a fury. "I'll be a joke within high-society and it's all because of that damned bitch!"

"Catrina." A cold voice beckoned from her open doorway.

The Marchioness glared at her child's immature tantrum with clenched teeth. Even if the dresses weren't in trend at the moment, it had taken her a long time to get the dresses made by Madam Estelle.

"Mother, just how long will it continue like this!?"

The Marchioness frowned. Truthfully, she didn't know. Her husband hardly mentioned the progress of his schemes and ever since that strange man arrived at his estate, he wanted to keep her out of it altogether.

"Now now," The Marchioness sighed, gesturing for the maid to clean up the mess her daughter had made. "There's no need to destroy such pretty dresses. Soon enough you will be the Crown Princess, setting trends within high-society instead of the first Princess. You'll be able to wear whatever you want."

Catrina smiled. Her mother was right, after all. She was born and raised to be a leader since birth. That spot was rightfully hers. She had been the girl in the centre of high-society, rivalling Duchess Rowena's influence, all until that Princess showed up.

'Yes, mother's right. This is how it should be.'

"Father said that it won't be much longer," She said, standing from where she was ripping dresses a moment ago. "Is that true, mother? When will my engagement to Prince Aiden be announced?"

"Soon enough, my dear. You must remain patient."

A man smiled from the shadows of the hallway, listening in on the conversation. He glanced down at his hand. It was a brief moment of contact, but in the two seconds his hand brushed the back of the third Prince- he had accomplished his goal.

At first, manipulating others with his power was difficult. The people he touched were turned into monsters who couldn't speak or function like normal humans. Eventually, after several experiments, he had succeeding in using just the right amount. It was too little to be detected, but just enough to slowly sway a person's thoughts.

Like a puppeteer, he could slowly gain total and complete control over his victims. He was able to pull their strings from the shadows, feeding values and opinions into their conscience.

Time was on his side, after all. He had Marquis Laurente and his greedy family under his grasp. And now the third Prince was no different from a puppet, slowly being dragged by his strings.

"Ah," A servant called hesitantly from beside him. "Mr. Lucaf, are you here to see the Marchioness?"

Lucaf shook his head, his ink-black hair falling over his forehead. "No, I'll be going now."

The servant frowned and watched the strange man walk away, his back slowly fading into the darkness of the corridor. The odd man had arrived at the Marquis' estate a short while ago and the servants were instructed to treat him as an esteemed guest of high importance.

It was hard to decipher what age the man was, as his hair and eye colour were strangely dark and ominous. The servant turned her head down and hurried back to her post. Strange or not, it was none of her business.

Lucaf sighed, holding the back of his neck with his scarred hands as he walked. He would have to drink that damned disgusting potion in order to enter the palace again. It was something he didn't want to do, no matter the importance of his mission.

The potion, of course, was made with black magic. It included a gross ingredient: the blood forcefully taken from the object of the potion. It was easy to obtain the blood of Professor Peregrine, who was locked up in the Marquis' dungeon. It was just hard to mimic the old man's ways and posing as someone you were not.

Lucaf sighed again, heading to his room where a sewn voodoo doll of the third Prince waited for him. He would have to continue with the ritual. The first Royal who would have to go was the Princess. Her existence was a huge liability.

~***~

Prince Aiden stared at his new bedroom wall with an empty gaze. For some reason, he felt unusually angry today. The faces of his maids made his blood boil with an uncontrollable surge of fury.

The maids on standby cowered in his presence, heads turned down to the floor in fear of being called out. The atmosphere surrounding the third Prince was just as bad as King Caderyn's.

"Emris," The voice that left his lips felt foreign. Was this his own? He had been feeling strangely disconnected from his own body recently, almost as if he was moving through each day void of emotions or feelings.

"Yes, Your Highness," Emris replied from where he stood by the door.

"Where's my sword?"

"Pardon?"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Emris cleared his throat. "It's in your closet with your training attire, Your Highness."

Aiden's hand itched with the desire to grab the cold handle of his sword. It was a burning desire, mimicking his hunger-stricken days in the attic. He longed for his weapon like he longed for food on an empty stomach.

'How do I even describe this feeling?'

"Your Highness," Emris said, stepping in front of the closet that Aiden began walking to. "May I dare ask why you wish to wield your weapon?"

"No."

Emris watched the third Prince with confused eyes as he neared the closet. Prince Aiden had been acting strange recently and no one knew why. His eyes looked empty- void of any life or emotion.

"Move." Aiden said flatly.

Hesitantly, Emris stepped to the side and bowed his head towards the floor. The Prince flung the closet doors open and rummaged through the shelf where his training attire was stored. Aiden's hand slipped around the handle of his sword, burning with an uncontrollable desire of some sort.

The burning didn't stop. Instead, it spread over his body and to his heart. Just like his hand had itched to grasp his sword, his heart itched to see his twin sister.

"Where's the Princess?" He asked before his mind could even process what he was feeling.

"Your Highness?" Emris questioned. "You want to see Princess Winter?"

"Yes."

"Last time I checked, she was having tea with His Majesty in the greenhouse."

"Okay."

"Your Highness, I don't think it's proper for you to walk around with-"

Aiden didn't listen to Sir Emris' pleas. His head ached with an immeasurable pain. He had to see Winter, otherwise his brain would split in two.

'Yes, it'll be fine as long as I see her.'

With sword in hand, he head off towards the greenhouse.