𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

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     The cave the expedition party was staying in was dark and cold, water dripping from the stalactites that hung from the ceiling which ended in pointed, sharp swords. The group, now reduced to only a couple horses after the rest ran off along with being half the size of what it was, left everyone in foul and gloomy spirits. Adrian probably was faring worst of all as he sat hunched over on a rock, his face a mask that made one unable to tell what he was feeling. (Y/N), however, saw through said mask all too well. She'd had to look at such a mask everyday in the mirror when waking up, and after so many years, she could spot the difference quite easily.

Having been standing over Adrian, she glanced around and saw that most people were either sleeping or turned away from the two, giving her the chance to drop the formalities that she often used when with him.

"Prince Adrian... you don't always have to look like you're together," she spoke softly as she sat down beside him, a small silence ranging between them before she spoke again. "No one expects that from you—least of all these men when knowing what happened."

He glanced up at her words, his gaze cold.

Yet, she saw the faint traces of red rimming his eyes so blatantly.

Her own eyes softened.

He's been crying.

I wonder for how long?

Even with how cold and harsh he comes off as... he still cries for those that were lost today.

Hesitating, she reached out and placed a hand on his back, feeling him flinch at the touch. However, he made no move to remove her hand, almost as if he were silently welcoming the reassurance and acceptance that it held—like he were wishing for it so he no longer felt so alone and so useless. (Y/N) wanted to offer more words to ease him of his pain, yet she didn't know what to say.

She was never too good at that.

She was sure she'd never be.

Yet, there was something about how Adrian, someone described as so cold-hearted and evil, weeping over fallen men that he may have not so much as shared a single word with, changed her entire view on him. Maybe not completely, but it made her feel proud to serve him, something she would have denied greatly if it were asked of her months before.

"We can't lose any more," Adrian finally uttered, his voice sounding a tad hoarse and scratchy, another clue that he had cried. "Chalar is only a mile south of here. Once we reach their border and cross it, finding a spot where Huelda Forla grows shouldn't be a problem since Miss Broin explained that it grows in abundance at this time of year." Standing up, his suit no longer crisp and clean like it was only a few mere hours ago, yet still able to look regal, he announced, "Everyone, we must not wait. We've lost too many lives tonight that cannot be taken back, and I wish not to lose any more. For that to happen, we need to be quick, efficient, and above all else, stealthy."

His eyes roved over the crowd.

Everyone was tense.

"If we are not..." Adrian started once more. "...we could very well end up dead."

At that, most everyone spurred into action. Sofi struggled with holding down a soldier whose wounds needed tending to, Adrian's words inciting him to try and be of service as well, she having to constantly push him back down and explain why he couldn't (Y/N) cracked a smile at that, a but in disbelief at how well roused the crowd had become.

The Prince... really knows how to speak.

"(M/N)," someone spoke, (Y/N) pulled from her thoughts to see Claude standing before her.

Her eyes widened at his appearance.

He looked haggard—too pale it seemed—with his blonde hair hanging limply around his face with fading blue eyes that no longer seemed to shine as bright as they once did. However, he gave her that reassuring smile he always did, and though she was still worried, she returned his smile.

"Hi, Claude," she nodded in greeting. "Are you okay? You look like you need to rest."

"I'm fine, just... worried," Claude replied, collapsing next to her and eyeing the lump under her clothes, a sign of the bandages that Sofi had wrapped. "And... scared. What if we don't make it out of here? I promised Emilié that I'd be back, and I can't break that promise to her..."

At the mention of his wife, (Y/N) exhaled softly, once again reaching up and letting her hand lay on a person's back.

Only this time, she was comforting Claude.

"You'll see her again."

"But... what if... what if—"

"Stop," (Y/N) silenced him with the cold word and a sharp glare. "You'll see your wife again."

Claude stared at her for a moment before his expression relaxed, and his smile turned into a real one—soft, but real. (Y/N) returned the look and gave him another pat on the back, silently reassuring him that he would live to see his love. Unknown to the two, Adrian stood off to the side, watching them intently, a hard glare painting his features. Something about the familiarity of the scene made his lips curl back in a grimace, finally clocking his tongue and stalking away since he was not keen on seeing such a sight.

Adrian knew (Y/N) and the other servant were friendly, yet he didn't think by that much. His mind flashed back to the way (Y/N) let her hand fall onto his back in comfort, and then how she did the same for that other man, the part of his back that she touched growing hotter as his anger grew.

Does he pity me?

Does he do this for people often?

God, why am I even so irritated?

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