𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙚 | ✓

002

𝘑𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘹

The feast had begun in the kitchen, Josiah taking a seat across from his father. They hadn't spoken since their argument about marraige earlier in the day which had led him to discuss his personal life with a member on the other side of that wall. Of course, he had no intention of going back. Whoever that Atticus was, Josiah knew was dangerous. All witches were, right? At least that's what he's always been told. He had no reason not to believe it so he assumed they were all creatures looking to take over the kingdom.

But what if they weren't?

He scoffed, slamming his fork on the glass plate in front of him. He earned looks by all the members sitting at the table, but most of all from his father. Of course, he always had to be perfect and set an example for everyone in the kingdom. Meanwhile, his father was forcing him to marry some woman he had no interest in.

Why would he want a stupid princess anyways? He didn't want a wife. If anything, he'd prefer a husband. Someone he actually enjoyed to be around and someone he actually would love in order to rule the kingdom alongside each other as a team.

However, if he brought up that thought he would be executed on the spot. Gay marraige was now illegal, ordered by the king. It was possible this happened because his wife was caught with one of the female witches several years ago after the war. Which, honestly, wasn't a big surprise coming from her. It was more of a surprise that he kept her around, knowing she betrayed their kingdom.

Josiah crossed his arms and tilted his chair back a bit, refusing to eat a single bite that was laid out in front him. Perhaps he was being petty about it, but honestly he didn't care. He wished his father understood his feelings instead of trying to shove them down. The so-called king had killed Josiah's mother, bringing whatever imposter this was into his home. So their relationship had already been a rocky one, but the argument earlier created a landslide.

"Josiah, dear," Diana began to speak softly, "maybe you could try and talk to them at least? A prince needs his princess, right?" She tried to reach out and touch his hand, but her "son" refused and pulled his hand away from her.

Josiah scoffed, now refusing to even speak to her. He never really enjoyed her company that much. She always loved to play house with him and act like she was his mother when in reality his own had been poisoned by the man sitting in front of him.

He never understood why his father had grown so cruel. When he had been made king all the blood must of rushed to his head, causing him to drown in praise and royalty. It was sick how much he overused his power. Nobody said anything, but instead just allowed themselves to be threatened by the evil on the throne.

Sebastian - or Bass - shook his head, slamming his fist on the table. "Josiah!" He snapped, his voice echoing through the large room and bouncing off the walls. "You will stop this nonsense and choose a woman tonight, understand?" His teeth gritted, Josiah cringing at the foul smell that left his father's mouth.

He then only nodded, afraid to say anything else. "Alright," he mumbled. Without another word, he began to eat. It wasn't everyday his father shouted that loud, but Josiah knew now wasn't the time to argue.

After dinner, Josiah had been escorted out of the dining area. Instead of following the maid leading him up to the room, he entered the dungons where the prisions were placed.

He had a friend there, someone he enjoyed talking to when he felt low. She had been there for a while now, her expected punishment to be death. The crime she commited was murder, or manslaughter was more fitting. It was a complete accident that even involved him, but luckily the woman behind the bars covered for him.

As he reached her cell, Reyna stood and offered her friend a smile. Her forehead was dripping with blood, a severe gash mostly likely caused from a whip spreading across her head. "Prince," she spoke with a slight grin as she walked over to the cell and placed her hands over the bars. "What do I owe this pleasure?"

Josiah huffed, shaking his head. "My father again, Reyna. I'm supposed to be choosing a wife tonight but I just- I can't. I don't know what to do," he spoke in a slight mumble. He took the crown off of his head and fiddled with it in his hands.

Was he meant to be king? Or was he meant to be somebody else?

Reyna sighed before speaking, "so don't attend! What are they going to do? Drag you by your crown? They can't force you to do anything," she told him. She reached from out of the bars, causing him to inch closer to her cell as her hand pressed up against his cheek. She then spoke,

"the only person who knows what you want...is you. Don't let anyone decide your fate for you. You decide for yourself."

Somehow, something told Josiah the fate he was going to choose would get him in a lot of trouble.

𝘈𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦

Atticus had been planning to leave that night, escaping to the other side of the wall in order to fix and restore their families. He wanted so bad for both civilizations to become whole again, though he couldn't help but wonder if that was even possible.

He sat at dinner that night, glancing over at his sister who was only staring at the meat placed on the dining table. He tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow when she glanced over at him. Her response was only a shrug, turning her head to show her brother a slight bruise on the side of her neck. It wasn't a normal bruise, but it was the shape of fingers.

Anger bubbled up inside Atticus as he turned his attention towards his father. His mother placed her hand on her son's, desperately trying to calm him down before he could make a scene. He turned to his mother, anger glaring in his eyes. "What happened?" He hissed quietly.

His mother stayed silent and instead turned back to her meal, a frown replacing the smile. Atticus shook his head, coming to a stance. Why did she never help them? She was their mother, surely she would be able to do something about this. Take them away to a new home, travel far away from their father. Then again, where would she take them? They were only limited to the woods, all witches fearing of more humans outside. They didn't have anywhere to go. They were stuck.

Well, Atticus could think of somewhere.

He grabbed his plate and tossed it in the trash, the glass shattering once it reached the bottom. Without being excused, he exited the kitchen and entered his bedroom. He didn't even bother to listen to his father's shouts, screaming at him to sit back down at the table. Scoffing, Atticus slammed his door and locked it.

How was he supposed to bring the two civilizations together if his own family couldn't get along? He was tired of walking on eggshells around his father. He was tired of seeing his sister hide in her room, afraid of doing something wrong that would upset him. She was only sixteen, after all. She shouldn't have to worry about that shit. She was just a kid.

Turns out when he went on his trip, he would have to take Vienna with him.

Was it sad that the dangerous kingdom was more safe for his sister than with her own kind?

No, it was more than that.

It was sick.