Stay with me // dreamnotfound

007.

The king had already gotten out of bed when he walked into his room- which was unusual and not quite right. Apparently they had some sort of system that had to be followed, because of traditions, but the king did not seem to be keen on it. So the servant stood in the door opening, looking down on the empty bed. He sighed, before turning around.

He looked down the hall, his eyes glancing at the walls and studying his whereabouts. He wished there was a change to it all, that he could see something else but stone walls and textile decorations. It would have been nice to have seen anything, wood even would have been just fine. Something other than obnoxious colors against a gray background.

It was his own fault though, because he had lashed out on the king. Or well maybe not lashed out, but he had been a total dick if you looked from the king's perspective. Although he did not regret a single word he had uttered yesterday. Although, maybe he had gone too far with saying he was similar to his father. He was not that mean, at least not yet.

The nightmare hung in his mind, the memory of his last day in freedom taunting him as he stood in the castle. It had not taken long for them to capture him and bring him in that day, since he was literally covered in blood and holding a sword which no other citizen carried. He was a candle in a dark room, the fire dancing and almost luring them to himself. He had never meant to kill someone, that had not been his goal. It had just been an accident.

The king on the other hand, did not believe a single word he said to defend himself. Whatever he said, they did not listen or even try to put it all together. In their eyes, he was a killer who was just beginning his journey. Therefore, the king sentenced him to the dungeons. Never would he have thought that his own king was a sadist.

He shook his head, walking down the hall. He knew exactly where to go.

The sun was still just rising, and cast some light over the castle. No one would be there at this hour, and the general was probably busy getting ready for their morning meetings. The servant assumed he was not wished there, since the king had basically escaped him. So it was just for him to sneak down the corridor, past the open area which leads outside, and then towards the training grounds.

It was a nice little place outside, walls surrounding them to ensure no one got in, or in his case, out. But there was grass, and a battleground for training there. The area was incredibly nice, and just along the walls, there were swords resting.

His sword had looked similar, although his must have been a nicer model. These weapons were a little heavier, the leather thin and worn out. They were still good though, probably the best that you could get unless someone was out there hiding their skills from the king. The servant lifted his hand and grabbed one of the blades, bringing it down from its place and towards him.

It almost felt like he was home again, holding it like he did. It reminded him of those times he had run out to the woods and practiced in the old abandoned buildings. He had felt safe there, and as if he belonged. It was his own space, his own place. It was such a shame that a guard had followed him there that day. He wished he could go back, maybe change time and be able to live there alone.

He tried to move the sword, and his muscles protested against the movement. They were not in shape like they used to have been- since he had been locked up for so long. They hurt and screamed at him, as if asking "What the fuck are you doing?". But he still tried his best, using his old maneuvers and trying to use the sword like he used to back there.

It took him a while before he remembered everything, but once he did, it felt like he had been doing it his whole life. He was, on the other hand, slow and struggled since he had not been practicing for a while and had been literally tortured. But no matter the circumstances, he was determined to get back into it. Why? He was not sure, but it felt important. As if it was what he had to do in this life, his purpose.