Morons and Monarchs

Chapter Nine: Anul 📜

𝕯𝖊𝖑𝖙𝖆 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕬𝖟𝖚𝖑 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖚𝖕 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖞 𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗, 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖆𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖉𝖘; 𝖗𝖔𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖘.

A hidden elevator not even the Queens know about, one we bribe the construction workers to rebuild every single time they have to build a new castle. Leading to the Morons room.

I lean against the back rail, watching the floors of the palace grow small and distant the farther we go up. Soon enough, the elevator stops, and the boys tie the ropes off to keep it in place.

When we climb out of our make-shift elevator, we are met with thousands of books leaning heavily on each other, only upheld by magic. The books loom over us dangerously. To any new-comer, they would half-expect the books to fall and nick us a few scratches. But I know it is completely safe, Delta would never put me in the face of danger.

My skirts flair over fallen pages and rusty book covers, the scent of old ink and vintage parchment filling the air. I wrinkle my nose; I hate the smell of books. Especially old ones.

They smell like old vanilla, and when I say old vanilla, I mean the super old and dusty, musty smell. Kind of like the smell of a hospital, which I guess makes sense with the thought of books. The authors almost always kill everybody! And yeah, it annoys me; it has bothered me many times over.

But those are the books that change your life, not only emotionally, but it opens your eyes to alternative possibilities. Books that rip your heart out and feed it back to you are the books that teach you the most ignorant and important lessons. Lessons a teacher, parent, or heartbreak can't teach you. Only an author, who spills their own heart out for pages on end can teach the true lessons of life. Only an author can explain in great detail something that is unexplainable.

And with the books lining the walls, one's knowledge of the world before and beyond is infinite.

I mean, who knew surnames were a thing- Like Darcy!- who has a surname? Well, everybody did back then! It is insane! Good thing I made up last names for everybody.

I don't know, but I would also love to have a middle name!

Although, I understand why we Fae's don't have them. Names have power, the more names you have, the more power they entail. And only the Queens and Princes can have all that power. None of us peasants. I scowl.

Delta's arm snakes around my waist, his head resting on my shoulder blade. His dark blue and forest green hair tickles my collarbone.

"What is wrong?" My mate asks me.

I glance back at him, "Oh, nothing much, just thinking."

He turns me around, his hands firm on my shoulders. "What about?"

I sigh as my eyes meet his one blue/ and one green eye. "Everything." I shrug. Faeries don't usually give vague answers, or ask vague questions. But that is not entirely true for mates, We say what we want and we do whatever. We can be crazy with one another, and the other find it odd but attractive. You can be the weirdest person on Otherworld, having the ugliest color of hair, have the worst personality, but your equal will find it both intriguing and beautiful.

That is the joy of having a mate, they love you for who you are. They love your imperfections and faults, they love your mood-swings and the way you love them back.

And when you find that special bond... life will become a wonderful place. Your once bleak outlook on the world will change to become joyful. Full of color rather than darkness.