A fairytale of a beautiful maiden, the beloved Frost Flower Princess was supposed to be staying in the comfort of her castle masquerading as a cage to protect her from the dangers outside, imprisoned by her own brothers.
That is, until a mysterious...
* "Oh, don't you dare mistake me for another fool. I'm the one who pulls the strings now you're my tool. Don't you understand my little errand boy? Here you are only my toy, and you'll be mine"
** Outside of the Infirmary
"Hyeeeaaarrrgh!"
"Grrraaaaah!"
The clash between Jack and Deuce shook the courtyard outside the infirmary, the sound of fists meeting flesh echoing through the crisp air. Just above them, Isfrid hovered several feet off the ground, seated midair in a lotus position, wings folded, tail curled lazily to the side. His eyes were shut as though he were meditating—or asleep—but the tension in his brow and the flick of his ear said otherwise.
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Ace and Noé stood nearby, frozen mid-comment as they watched Deuce and Jack continue their brutal sparring session.
"*pant* *pant*... Man, you just... You just don't give an inch..." Jack muttered, swiping blood from his lip and glaring at Deuce with admiration.
Deuce panted lightly, managing a smirk. "Phew...You neither. You sure can fight."
"It's like every one of your punches rattled me to the core..." Grim muttered, flattening his ears.
"Releasing all that anger, no doubt," Noé observed, arms crossed, his gaze flicking from Jack's footwork to Deuce's counters. "Not bad for untrained brutes."
"Yeeesh...Maybe we got a little carried away." Ace hissed, stretching his back with a wince. His eyes clouded over as he muttered. "Uuuugh. At this point, I don't even care about makin' the stupid team. Not after what happened to lil' rabbit."
The image of Y/n lying pale and trembling in the infirmary burned behind his eyelids. He clenched his fists, guilt knotting his stomach. 'If only I were stronger... Maybe then I could've protected her...'
"Wow...everyone sure took a beating..." a voice called from behind them.
"Do we all get to hug it out now?~" another voice chimed in—velvet-smooth and smug.
"Y/n?!" the boys cried out in shock.
Vanitas strutted across the courtyard, smug as ever, with Y/n carried in his arms like a treasured doll. A pole with an IV fluid bag rolled beside them, clinking gently as it kept pace, connected to the crook of her right arm by a line of glistening tubing. The soft hiss of healing potion made from the Flower of Eternity pulsed through her veins. Dressed in a pristine white infirmary gown, her legs tucked against Vanitas' chest, Y/n looked delicate enough to shatter.
