Assassin|| C!TNTDUO

◞o✷Books & Tapestries ✷o◟

Wilbur POV:

The castle was decorated heavily with tapestries and paintings, and on his endless errands, Wilbur would often study them curiously.

He saw generations of royalty glaring down at him from the cold walls and shivered, wondering how anyone could cope with that many eyes on them all the time.

It was creepy.

He found himself facing a newer, larger painting adorning the end of the long hallway.

Its heavy gold frame seemed to weigh down the surrounding dusty artworks, lit dimly by torches on either side.

This portrait showed the king. Or well, ex-king.

A serious-looking man, sitting in a serious-looking position.

He wore a dark simple suit, had curly dark hair that travelled down his face in sideburns, and matching dark eyes. The only contrast was his pale hands, stretched out in front of him and resting on his lap.

Wilbur looked up at his employer with interest, as if this paint and canvas would be able to tell him something.

He was interrupted by a voice to his right, causing him to jump.

"Taken too soon, wasn't he?"

He turned and was disappointed to see Mr. Creedin standing curtly behind him.

The man really knew how to sneak up on someone.

"Ah, yeah." Wilbur agreed distractedly. "I mean, he was young, wasn't he?" He added curiously.

Creedin gave a short nod. "He was very young when he took the throne but he made up for his age in his success." He said admirably.

Wilbur furrowed his brows slightly. "He was the Queen's brother, correct?"

"Yes." The man answered shortly.

"It's strange, I don't seem to find any portraits of her around here."

Creedin's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Alas, Queen Anastasia was stolen quite suddenly by her illness, and there was not time nor opportunity to make one before her untimely death."

Despite this obvious falsehood, Wilbur continued to pry. "And, what exactly was that illness?"

Creedin shot him a look. "I don't see how that is any of your concern. If I were you I'd be more worried that the coronation is in a week, and you seem to have achieved nothing."

Wilbur got closer to him. "I'm blending in. I'm finding my moment. Give me time."

"We-...I hired you for results. Now give them."

Wilbur sighed. "Be patient. That prince is smarter than you anticipated. Most of my targets are people who are already practically dead before I arrive.

He placed his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I definitely kill them, but people like them are always slowly killing themselves. Just waiting until their own guilt, greed, fear -or whatever it is- consumes them and takes them to the grave. I guess you could call me a mercy. An angel. For people like that. Like him."

He jerked a thumb up at Schlatt and saw Creedin's jaw clench.

"I don't care how you kill him. Mercifully or unforgiving. I don't care whether you consider yourself an 'angel' or the devil himself. I just want him dead. And make it soon." Creedin sneered quietly, jabbing a finger at Wilbur.

Wilbur looked down at him calmly but his voice was hard.

"I always complete a job."

He turned back to Schlatt's smirking presence and heard the man's quick footsteps echoing away.

He was getting impatient. So was Wilbur.

Creedin was a complete liar but he had been right about one thing.

Wilbur needed to kill this guy, and soon.

He'd been away from home for too long. He wanted to just get his money and go.

Nothing else mattered.

Quackity POV:

Quackity had a very busy day.

Two fittings, a war meeting, training, a riding lesson, letter writing, and a coronation rehearsal.

And that was all before noon.

Too bad he wasn't going to any of it.

Instead, he headed to the library.

He knew he shouldn't complain about his royal duties but he couldn't help feeling like he just wanted to abandon it all.

The library was a good place for that. It had all the nooks and hideaways a young prince could ask for.

He could tuck himself away all day and night, reading every scrap of parchment the castle had to offer.

Truth be told, he wasn't even much of a reader. But it was one of the only ways he could learn something about the outside world without strict guidance from his uncle or the court.

He entered the wide doors with a contented sigh.

The high roof had stained glass that allowed colourful light to stream in on just the right angle to make rainbows dance around the tall shelves.

Staircases twisted up towards the ceiling and corners were hidden by a maze of arches and greenery.

"Ah, your majesty, welcome back." Said a pleasant voice from behind a pile of old books and maps.

He peeked over it and waved. "Hi, Niki."

She smiled up at him through her gold-rimmed glasses and mess of light pink hair.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Been busy?"

Quackity groaned and slouched over the desk. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Niki tutted sympathetically. "If you ask me- well... never mind. Are you looking for anything specific today?"

"Oh, uh no not really, I think I'll just look around."

"Ok then. Have fun finding something you've never read before." She called out.

Quackity headed to his favourite corner and grabbed a random book off the shelf distractedly.

He cracked it open and got a face full of dust.

Coughing, he let the book fall into his lap, where it opened to a page somewhere in the middle. Tucked between the old pages was another folded piece of parchment.

He unfolded it to reveal a map of his kingdom. No- not just his kingdom, but many others too. It even spread out to the sea beyond.

He poured over it hungrily. He'd seen maps before obviously, but never one this extensive.

His brain mentally made a dotted line as his eyes scanned the map.

He'd go there, and there... And there and there.

Maybe one day when he was king he could leave this place behind and find new worlds, discover new places.

Deep down he knew it was a childish ambition but he pocketed the map anyway.

It made him feel closer to the outside world.

And he needed that. Because right now, despite his 'bright future' he couldn't shake the feeling that he was doomed.