6. I get punched

Anthony

"My poor head...." I murmur, rubbing my scalp. My dear mother had taken the pleasure of making my head throb like a swollen bee-sting. Each hit spanned a contrasting area and shape but, nevertheless made me feel like my skull might crack open at any moment. It didn't make it any better, that I had been too busy defending myself at breakfast to have a morsel of food. In fact, I'm quite certain that I only had a small apple while I was chased by the tomato with a butter knife.

As I grabbed the cloak and shifted it onto my shoulders, my stomach growled. I sighed.

I could already tell today was going to be an amazing day.

I inwardly groan and walk out of my room. Thomas is waiting for me outside because, of course, he is. {1}

"How are you feeling?"

"My mother just tried to stab me with a butter knife. What do you think?"

He smirks. "Did she succeed?"

I roll my eyes and change the pitch of my voice, so I sound like a dramatic old woman. "Haven't you noticed? I'm practically bleeding to death. I think she stabbed me, at least fifty times," I gesture to the beaten floorboards under me. "Can't you see the massive amount of blood pooling at my feet? Oh no, what's this?" I dramatically touch my forehead, "Thomas, I'm suddenly feeling very faint. Catch me!" I stagger to the floor, wheezing. Thomas snickers in the background.

"Hey, idiots!" I hear Aria shout. She walks into our hallway and blinks at me, who is dying on the floor and then at Thomas, who's holding onto one of the pillars, also dying.

"....Wow.."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Aria just gives me a look of worry, bordering on disgust. This just makes me laugh harder because a five-year-old is looking at me, with worry bordering on disgust.

That five-year-old probably has more emotional intelligence than you.

For a tiny moment, I'm transported back in time. To a small dirt cell. To blood. To shackles. To pain. To screaming.

Get up! You're better than this! So what? Good for her!

So what? Good for her!

So what? Good for her!

When we're finally done laughing. I eye Aria, who raises an eyebrow at me. "Done?"

I get up. Shaking the dirt from my hair I say, "yes, ma'am."

"Good," she pulls on the hood of her cloak so it completely covers her face. "Let's go."

We reach the gangway, my mother is already there. Her face is much less tomato-looking now. Though her crimson-red hair makes up for it{2}.

Which is why it is also covered by a hood.

A hood that I now realize, is very, very itchy. Damn, when was the last time these things were washed?

Twenty-something years ago?

That sounds about right.

Man, why do we have to put these on anyway? There's no point in this. So what if the Aresians all collectively hate us? It's not like they've seen us before. Not to mention the fact that they would never have the nerve to harm us.

"This cloak smells like, bleh," my best-friend noted.

"No, really?"

He dramatically widens his eyes, "No, it smells like fucking lavender."

After another round of banter, I notice the horses that had been set out for us. I point at them. "We should get going."

He nods.

I nod.

We both nod.

"Stop nodding."

I bend down to face my little sister and continue to nod vehemently.

She gives me a look, "I hate you," and walks away.{3}

I just laugh and wave back, "I love you too!"

Well....

I look away to Lucifer, my horse, and sigh. I hope this goes well.{4}

****

"We're lost aren't we?" I hear Thomas mutter to no one in particular.

Charles, my valet, looks sheepish as he holds the map. "Fo-forgive me. Your Graces. This map of Valoria is very old. Probably, from the pre-war era. "{5}

I hear my mother sigh and look around. "I'm sorry, but I can't decipher any of these streets. From what I can tell, all of these buildings are new." A small smile plays across her face, though her eyes show a deep sadness. "It's all so different now..."

Well, fuck. My mother is going to cry. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Great. I look around the square. Which human would be gracious enough to give a bunch of foreign strangers directions to the home of the most beloved people in the country? I narrow my eyes and scrutinize every face available to my eyes.

My gaze falls on a pretty girl on the other side of the square who'd just made it out of a bakery. She wore plain clothing and her dark brown hair was twisted into a simple braid that reached her waist, a brown paper bag in her hands. To passing onlookers, she would've passed as just another peasant. Not to me. Because unlike most people. I noticed the way she carried herself. Like a queen. A noblewoman, for sure.

She walked out of the shade. The sun hit her face but she didn't seem to mind. A slight spring breeze came into the square and a few stray strands of hair blew to cover her face.

Hmm, she seems nice enough. I turn to my family, "wait here, I'll go get directions."

Aria nods. Thomas and Charles are too busy counselling my mother to notice.

I proceed to get off Lucifer and make my way across the marketplace. She finds a table and sits down. Her back, facing me.

I lightly tap her shoulder, so I don't seem threatening. "Excuse me, Miss?" She flinches.

Oh? Why is she startled? Maybe, she was in deep thought? Should we ask her?

She turns around as I ask, " um, Miss. Is something wro-"

I stop talking as our gazes meet. Deep-sea, ocean blue eyes that I could drown in. Perfect, rosy cheeks and bright-pink lips.

Wow...... She's gorgeous. That was when I noticed the shock and fear in her eyes. I held back an exasperated sigh.

Why were people so judgmental about other people's appearances? Just because I had purple eyes, doesn't mean I was going to kill you. I'm not. A monster!

Uuuuuuuuuugh.

Oh wait, I'm staring. I shouldn't be staring. But what do I say? Uuuummm...

"Oy! Amy! I'm-"

A young man about my height and build approaches the girl, a box of cake in his hands. He looks at 'Amy' and then, at me.

Girl.

Me.

Girl.

Me.

Girl. "Do you know him?"

"Um..." she looks at me and takes a deep breath. Suddenly, a new certainty makes its home in her eyes. "No." She looks at the man with snow-white hair, who eyes me with suspicion. "No, I don't know 'im."

"Oh, alright." He places the cake on the table and stalks over to me. Wait... What is he doing? He proceeds to very politely answer my question by bringing his knee up to kick me in the balls. Hard.

"Ahgh!"

The son of a bastard who just kicked me comes over and kneels in front of me. My eyes meet his icy glare. He pulls me up by the collar and proceeds to punch me in the jaw. I bite my lip until it bleeds.

"This is what happens when you be a pervert, you shithead." Punch.

"Isaiah, stop!" The girl rushes over the man, who I now realize is probably her lover. She grabs the arm that he was just about to punch me with. He immediately stops what he's doing and lowers his gaze to the girl. "If ye 'urt 'im anymore 'e might seriously get injured. Stop."

Oh yes, because the asshole didn't just dislocate my jaw. Still not seriously injured yet! Wanna kick my balls again and endanger my future children?

Her lover sighs and immediately drops me to the floor. He gestures to the street, "come on," he says to the girl.

The girl scowls at him, "wait." She looks at me and her gaze instantly softens. Kneeling down next to me she gently grabs my arm. I blink at her as she helps me off the ground. Dusting me off she asks in the fluent southern-Valorian tongue, " are ye alright, sir?"

There is no way this woman is from the slums. She must be using her fluency as a disguise. But, why would a noble need to hide her identity like this? Just how high, up the social ladder is she?

"Mister?" She snaps her fingers at me.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts, "um, right. Thank you for helping me." Cautiously, I glance at the white-haired bastard, he notices me staring and sends an ice-cold glare that is magnified by his blue eyes. The last thing I need is to get in trouble before, I've even stepped foot in the palace. I shifted away from the two of them, "I should be going now." I turn to leave.

"Wait!"

Haaaaaah.... Why can't we get a break today?

I turn around, "yes?"

"Well, I know dat what me friend 'ere did was wrong. And I also know, dat dose scratches of yer's ain't gonna get better on deir own." She pauses for a moment and huffs. " What I mean to say is... Can we offer ye anything for the inconvenience, sir?"

I raise my eyebrows and blink. Scrutinizing the two of them.

Well, it's not like another person willing to help us is going to magically appear, right?

I sigh, "come with me."

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{1} He is a good friend. Unlike some.

{2} As red as blood, according to the war tales. Though some may compare the colour to roses. In the stories, she is known as 'red dawn.' Known for ambushing Aresian troops during the war, her victims almost never made it out alive. Only one did. Sir Carles Wight, who died two days in a make-shift infirmary after screaming about blood for his last hours of consciousness. His battalion died from poisoning in their food. Not one drop of blood was shed.

{3} She doesn't.

{4} It doesn't.

{5} As mentioned before, tensions between Aresia and Borelis have been high. Even after twenty years of peace, trade has never truly been open. Aresian and Borelian merchants only trade the necessities. Maps are prohibited from being traded back and forth in fear that they might be used in an upcoming war. Which is why most foreign dignitaries choose to have an Aresian or Borelian ambassador with them to guide them through the unknown cities. These idiots refused one because the Queen insisted that she knew the map of Valoria by heart.

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Anthony: Vote and comment to see me get more beat up.