Kidnapped, Or As I Like To Call It, Saved

Kidnapped, Or As I Like To Call It, Saved -chapter 19-

Nero’s POV

Raoul is dead. His hands never to grace her skin like that again. I lashed my full rage on him; conflicted by the love and elegance of her face that beckoned mercy, I feel slightly guilty; but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

I’m certain beyond any doubt in my mind that they probably won’t be able to confirm for sure if the body is his due to the utter slaughter it endured. How utterly barbaric I am… for god sake I’m practically a monster. Ha, god’s sake… how ironic.

I should be ashamed, but my parent’s death and the nearly foiling of Bly’s innocence beckons me to be confident in what decisions I have made.

Overthrowing an empire has its doubtful moments but I manage to keep my head clear on my motivations on most occasions; though Bly’s presence has put me through a battle of emotions with myself. I liked to blame my hormones for that.

I inhaled deeply in my comforting half-conscious sleep that beckoned me to finally awaken from last night’s late mission. I smelled something sugary, warm, and sweet linger through the air gently as it swarmed in my nostrils. I opened my eyes groggily still tired and sleep ridden.

I sat up abruptly and looked to my bed side table. There pleasantly sat and iced cake waiting for someone to eat it. I looked to it in utter puzzlement. Why was there a cake at my bedside? I have no idea. I looked to my bedroom door feeling as though someone should be standing in the center of it, but saw no one. My heart throbbed in slight disappointment. I lifted my tired legs from their warm imprisonment and persisted to get ready for the day.

I was ready shortly and was about to leave my room, but then looked back to the cake in remembrance. I sighed and took it with two steady hands. I walked precariously down the hall trying to gather my thoughts into something even myself couldn’t understand. I find myself utterly ashamed that I had to put her through that. I should have stopped while I could have, but I didn’t. I was selfish and blinded by the hate that still swells in my mind from every possible possibility of a normal life being ripped from my hands with no logical reason. Every day it feels as though someone played me as a fool and got the best of me. I hated the feeling.

The first stop of mine was the kitchen. I walked in to see two sleep stricken faces. They looked more tired than they should have for having a good night of sleep. I stepped in and their faces turned to me immediately. They looked to the cake in my hands for a brief moment, and then muffled their faces into a downward pose. I looked at them quizzically. I set the cake to the side and then walked to the counter to lean on it and wait for the first words to explain the emotions that thickly, but unexplainably ran though the air with an uneasy after taste.

No one spoke so I just sat not knowing what else to do.

“She made you cake..?” Ivan muttered after a good five minutes of silence. I looked to him to see he wasn’t making eye contact. I looked away slightly shameful.

“Yeah.” I answered plain and simple. The room slipped into silence again and I knew without words to tell me that not only was Bly having a fit, but they felt more guilt about it than the past ones. She wasn’t very different from me when it came to throwing fits. I let out a subtle sigh that was barely noticeable as one. I looked to the door, and knew what needed to be done.

Bly’s POV

Their faces won’t come back to me. No matter how many times I draw them they aren’t as perfect as I remember them. I scribbled furiously onto printer paper that sat in a once two foot thick stack, was now reduced to mere inches. My eraser was a nub and my pencil couldn’t take much more sharpening.