Of Kings and Queens

13/Relevations/

"Then a woman, she screams
It's a terrible night
As the mood changes to dark from light
Tell the doctor what's become of me,"

-*FLASHBACK*-
•One Year Ago, July 19th•

"I HATE YOU! You're ruining our lives! Why can't you understand that we don't want-"

A smack sounded throughout the room.

He was left standing by the fireplace speechless. Jamie just lay on the ground.

The woman turned to him.

"Oliver, Do you agree with her? Am I ruining your life?" She asked him, a hateful sneer contorting her face unattractively.

"You didn't have to hit her, mother." His lips trembled, afraid of what was coming for him if he stepped out of line aswell.

"Mother, please. St-"

"Oliver. Go to your room." The woman cut in and ushered Oliver out of the room.

Later that night after being dismissed from the front room, where his sister was lying on the ground unconscious, he sat on the royal red armchair in his bedroom.

He was reading a copy of his favourite book long after the sun had set when his mother stepped into his room, and advanced on him. Gliding towards him with her hands joined behind her back.

She knelt down beside him, caressing his hair.

"She's a bad example for you, Oliver. She's not your sister anymore. She's only a distant memory." She patted his cheek fondly.

"I will not loose another heir to childish ambition. You will not disgrace the Roscoe name with more outlandish behaviour." Her voice grew taut, leaving no room for disagreement.

"Of course not, mother." The words tasted like sewage on his tongue.

She kissed the crown of his head and bid him goodnight, a cold smile was the last thing he saw before his bedroom door closed and he was encased in his prison cell off a room again.

Where he felt the suffocation like vice around his throat and a tightening in his collarbone.

•••

"Goodbye, Robin." Her name fell from his lips naturally, as if he had years of practice.

A stray piece of hair fell from it's clip at the side of her head. His fingers twitched and he restrained himself from brushing it back.

'I will not disgrace the Roscoe name,' The non-stop mantra that plagued his head repeated again.

She worried her lip between her teeth nervously.

He turned and left with Samtlige Skrifter tucked under his arm.

•••

He sat back on his bed, resting against the headboard and relaxed into the plush cushions behind him. Oliver reclined back and wasted away the last hours of sunlight reading the new books he had just taken from the library.

A few hours later once the sun had almost dissapeared, he closed the last book and sighed contently.

•September, 13th•

The light flooded in through the blinds. The rays of sunshine came in through them and flooded the room.

Robin groaned frustratedly from her bed. A lone beam of sunlight had settled itself in her eyes, successfully interupting her restful sleep. She flipped over and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling blankly, sorting out her thoughts for the day, urging herself to get out of bed.

Then she heard a rapid tapping on her bedroom door. Ungracefully scrambling out of the pile of blankets and sheets she made her way to her door and opened it.

No one was there. She half-expected Perry to be standing there, waiting to tell her he would be busy with his girlfriend -again- instead of hanging out with her.

But as she stuck her head out and heard nothing, not even a distant sound of another door clicking shut, she wondered if she had imagined it. Just as she was about to give up figuring the mystery out, she noticed a package infront of her feet.

She crouched down.

Books. Two of them.

At closer inspection she recognised one of them. The one on top.

She leafed through the first one and went back to the front cover, obviously worn down and she squinted.

Robin said aloud, "Samtlige Skrifter; Volumes One through Three."

Her row creased in confusion. She asked herself how someone could've known that she needed that book, then her eyes lit up. She smacked her forehead and realised who exactly could have left the books infront of her door this early in the morning.

She made a mental note to thank Perry when they met after their first classes.

Then she opened the second book and although the dust cover was long gone, the pages were pristine. The title read, 'Fabler og Fortællinger, Rough English Translation.'

Her curiousity was piqued.

She flipped through the first few pages and was shocked at the notes and musings scribbled in the margins, but what really caught her eye was a messy scrawl of the word Robin on page 15.

On the inside margin of the page, a small paragraph was written in a scrawly calligraphy. It read;

Robin,

I saw you reading Dante out in the living room a few nights ago, and I thought you might like Edvard Storm. It's more 18th century poetry, but the story is quite beautiful. You remind me of the Lion -

Oliver.

P.s. Sorry about yesterday.

Robin stared at the words a little longer after she had read it. She refused to admit to herself that her heart jumped to her throat at the first handful of words.

She placed the book in her drawer for safe keeping until she decided to read it, and headed off to get dressed for classes, ready to write her essay on Johannes Edwald.

As she glanced at her bedside alarm clock, she sighed in defeat at the time and walked down across the apartment to have a shower.