Castle | Ghost & König ✓

18 | sweet nothings

With much on my mind, I retired to the meadows that night.

I could not sleep. Any appetite for dinner had long dissipated by the time my father was finished telling me the story of his past, and I did not want to be in that room with him any longer either. I could not stifle the sadness, the sheer anguish that dripped inside that chamber — my father talking about my dead mother seemed to make him very sad, as it did me, and I had to go get some fresh air before I thought about Charlotte Crowley any longer.

The meadows at night were as beautiful as they were in the daytime, but as I progressed through the fields, feeling my long skirt trail against the ground, I had an weary suspicion that I was being followed. I would glance behind me, but not see anything but the swirling shadows of the night. The crescent moon hung in the sky, serving as my source of light as I navigated warily through the meadows.

I suspected that it would be Count Ghost again, stalking me as he always was — I did not even care at this point. I will allow him to stalk me. If he gets too close, I will just throw the fucker across the fields like I did back in my bedroom.

I thought about my plan, my plan to let Ghost sire me so that I could get information out of him, information on how to kill him. I was so conflicted — my infatuation urged me to forget the entire thing, to abandon my plan to murder him, but my witch-mind overpowered my meaningless feelings, guiding me on the right path.

I heard some leaves rustle. Frightened, I looked behind me, and instead of seeing nothing, I saw a tall, much over six-foot figure standing in the shadows.

I put a hand over my chest, feeling my fast heart rate. "König? Is that you?"

The figure walked closer to me, and the nearer he approached me, I could make out the details of his t-shirt mask, the red-orange lines running from the cut-out eyeholes, and I knew it was him. I exhaled in relief. I lightly punched him on the arm.

"Do not sneak up on a woman like that," I said, frustrated but relieved it was him and not Ghost. "Have I not told you that before?"

"You said something similar in the bathroom once," he said, smiling with his eyes.

I scoffed. "Then why do you not listen?"

"Apologies, madam."

"Now I feel old," I joked.

I walked with him for a moment, enjoying his presence. We were a good distance from the castle now, so much so that we would be small dots in the distance if you looked down at us from the window in my room.

As we strolled, I started wondering about the man my adoptive mother was married to before my father remarried her. I hardly have any memory of him, which is why I have not really thought of him recently. He passed away nearly a decade ago. He was the father of my siblings.

"What are you thinking?" asked König out of the blue.

Truthfully, I answered him: "I was thinking about somebody. My mother was married to a man before my father. He is the father — was, the father of my late siblings. He died many years ago."

"Do you remember anything about him?"

"No, actually," I said with a somber laugh. "I do not even recall how he died. I think he died in my early teen years, if I recall correctly, but when I try to remember him, all I see is a blur. All I know is that what my father told me. I actually talked to him earlier, my father I mean."

"What did he say?" König asked kindly, listening to my words.

"He told me about where I came from, about my real mother," I said. "Apparently, my real mother is Charlotte Crowley. Ghost has a painting of her in his room. He has a connection with my birth mother, and I need to find out why. That's why I think it is a great idea to go through my plan of allowing Ghost to sire me temporarily."