Blood Bound

Chapter 3

*June 18, 1852; 06:30*

Amell had kept his promise about leaving breakfast on the main dining table, which had decently surprised Liam. So carefully taking one item from the mass of things, he began to venture around the dining hall, not wishing to sit and eat, especially alone. Liam bit into the apple in his hands as he looked at the portrait on the wall. The woman was stunning. She had blonde hair, which complimented her gown's soft color and floral design. Liam couldn't help the gentle smile on his lips as he brushed his fingers over the canvas of the painting, "Her name isn't given..." he muttered as his eyes flicked down to the frame which would hold information on the person.

Dropping his hands back to his sides, Liam turned away, not wanting to invade Amell's privacy more than he already had. But the woman, she felt familiar almost. Shaking his head, Liam glanced back to the portrait before reaching into his pocket and swearing under his breath when he realized that his search was in vain as the item he was searching for was in his previous set of clothes and would likely not work. He brought his hand back up to his hair to fluff it from the pressed mess it had become overnight.

Liam returned to the table and grabbed something else to eat before wandering the castle halls and hopefully not getting lost. How did one man live in such a large house all by his lonesome? He sighed as he nibbled on the food and tapped on the wall with his free hand as he wandered, keeping his gaze low. What was he meant to do all day? Amell had meetings until nightfall. At least, that was what it seemed like to Liam with the information he had been presented with the previous night. "All I want is to get home... I know I can't, but that's all I want. Why was I put here?" He asked himself quietly before shaking his head. He knew he wouldn't get an answer, seeing as he had no recollection of what compelled him to come to this exact spot. This was the home of some person, Amell Johnson, as he now knew, but why had he felt the need to come here? Was it some sort of attraction he knew of? Perhaps what some would see as a haunted house, as Amell never seemed to be around during the day, but the house remained spotless. To an outsider, it seemed no one was home, but it was still neatly kept. He shook his head to clear his thoughts of the whole situation, he was stuck there, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He had to try and figure out what compelled him to this house in general.

The human let out a heavy sigh before he returned to the room he was occupying; his eyes flickered around the room as he traced his fingers along the brick by the door. It looked almost modern in his eyes, not new but genuinely modern. Liam walked past the threshold and sat at the desk in the room, giving his eyes time to scan the space in the sunlight rather than a singular candle that had lit the area the night prior when he arrived. "Amell Johnson..." He muttered the homeowner's name. Didn't he know an Amell Johnson... A small laugh came from the male; it was impossible. It was merely a misremembering.

There was no way he could know Amell Johnson, the guy he was thinking of anyway. He only knew when he was five, and then he died. That was what Liam assumed because the gentleman had disappeared. Yeah, it was impossible... Running a hand through his hair, Liam looked over the books on the shelf across from his seat, The Canterberry Tales, several of Shakespeare's works, and Inferno; these were all old works, barely taught in the education system old. Perhaps it was something he could use. He stood up and made his way over to the shelf. He let his fingers glide over the spines of the books before he picked up Inferno and sighed as he flipped open the front cover and squinted slightly at the clean pages of the book. He set the book back on the shelf and grabbed another one, flipping through it, noting the same pristine pages as Inferno. "Who actually keeps these this clean?" He questioned himself as he reached for one of the Shakespeare works on the shelf.

"Aɱҽʅʅ Jσԋɳʂσɳ ~1598 Romeo and Juliet: William Shakespeare" the title page had written in it, why was it dated? But Amell was alive in 1598? How could that possibly be correct? Liam shook his head. There was no way, no way. It was possible for the homeowner to look like he did when he was alive more than two and a half centuries old. With a sigh, Liam set the book back down on the shelf and curled into bed again. He was bored out of his mind and given he had nothing to do, other than explore which felt like an invasion of Amell's privacy so a nap was his solution, despite it being not yet noon.

// So sorry this has taken me over a year to write, I have had absolutely no idea what to write for this and while this is a filler chapter, I hope that it gave y'all a little incite to Liam's character.