forgiveness. that soft & sacred thing which had once been denied to him, which had weighed heavily on his mind for the long, lonely years in which he had been cursed – even now, it seemed the idea of it would not leave him be. who would he have become, had the enchantress relented on that fateful night, & granted him a life of near-normality ? ( it never would have been the same, he knew in his heart; how could it be, after having seen what divine creatures walked amongst them, disguised as the unseen & despised ? ) he liked to think he would have become a better man. he knew that he would not.
it didn’t much matter. what had happened had happened – while there were certain parts he would change, the turn his life had taken had been a blessing in disguise ( or so he would tell those who questioned him. ) yet still, he wondered, what might have become of him, had he been given a second chance. more to the point, he wondered what a second chance might do for others – one other, in particular. the thought of her had been with him since she had been found upon the grounds, & he pitied her; reviled her; feared her, even. his body, now new & whole & human, might have healed entirely from his ordeal, but in places, his soul still ached. phantom bullets could be felt shifting ‘neath his skin at night, refusing to let him rest until he had spoken to the one who had fired them.
if there were others awake, he didn’t see them as he ventured through the castle, climbing the stairs to the tower which held the cells. his father had been unafraid to use them, yet only one person occupied them now – she, who had caused them so much pain. in the flickering candlelight, adam couldn’t quite tell if she was awake or not. it would have been the easiest thing in the world to simply observe her & leave, to put the thought out of his head once more; indeed, the prince had turned to descend the stairs again, to settle himself in the bed of his beloved, & give this wretched woman no more of his time, but something stalled him. glancing over his shoulder, he found he couldn’t name what drove him to speak.
❛ they mourn you – mourn what you became. ❜ she had swept the village up in her fervor, but with clear heads, & the memories of their loved ones restored, those who had followed her, baying for blood, now felt ashamed for how they had been coaxed into acting. none said it directly to him ( how could they, when she had made it her mission to kill him ? ) but he heard it in whispers & echoes. she had been loved. she had been respected. they spoke of her as if the fall from the tower had truly killed her. ❛ they think you’re the monstrous one now. ❜ a glimmer of sharpness & spite; for a moment, the sardonic young prince resurfaced, even as shame burned in him for the comment. ❛ does it hurt, to be despised ? ❜ then, quietly, bitterly – ❛ do you understand it, now ? ❜
( @undeservcd / starter call. )
