Curse - Septiplier

11: Forbidden Friendship

Jack's POV

My muscles were sore once I woke again, and I knew it was because Mark and I were back into training soon after resting from injuries. It was a difficult balance to maintain, but Mark was determined to work through his injuries and so was I. So, groaning and wincing at my soreness and pain at moving, I sat up and froze for a moment to let myself wake properly. It was warm outside, the sun pouring through my windows and lighting my room. With the beams shining through, I could see the particles in the air of my room and how still it was in here with my room blocked off from the rest of the castle through a shut door. I could only imagine how crazy things were out in the rest of the castle since my father was the one leading us. I felt regret as soon as such a thought had been processed through my mind, but I pushed it away. My father and I weren't good at getting along.

I stood, finding clothes that were somewhat presentable and made my way out of my room for the day. I noticed how quiet the halls were as I passed through them, and I realized that all of the maidens and soldiers who normally kept guard through the area were not in place. Where they were I couldn't say, but it was plainly obvious that they weren't here. I found my feet shuffling towards the throne room where my father probably was, and I could hear the shouting before I knew what was going on. Angered voices, strained with emotion and frustration at the lack of attention the owner was getting, echoed through the halls and in my ears. Someone, somewhere, was upset. With eyebrows knit close together, my steps quickened in pace and I found myself staring at a battle once I entered the throne room.

It looked like it was supposed to be a meeting, my father sitting on his throne with the General there and several of the higher advisors and generals in the room to listen. There were groups of villagers, families, that were all gathered in front of them by several feet. I recognized many of them, their faces twisted in anger and grief. Many bore scars of the battle from a few days ago, and they turned their harsh and whipped gazes upon me once I entered. Their mouths were sour looking, tongues spitting flames and demands until they found me standing there. The fire in their hearts seemed to spike upon my presence, and my father stood quickly. He raised a hand, trying to shoo me away and trying to stop the oncoming heat that I myself could feel, but it was far too late. The tide had rose, and I could feel the waves of frustration and pain crashing over me once the first man stepped forward.

"You!" he snapped, and his anger and words silenced everyone else's as they watched, as they listened, as they realized what he already had. Dirt caked his face, a snarl permanently painted across his lips, and brown eyes like that of a snake; he was bound in bandages, showing his loyalty and his sacrifices for the cause, but those were only the external wounds. "You stupid boy! You're naievity cost my family a great deal! My children are without a mother, and I a wife! You foolish bastard, you'll rot in hell for this!" The man launched himself at me, and I wasn't ready for the attack. However, two guards to my right were, and their leaping bounds stopped the man in his tracks, swords raised menacingly and words of a hushed manner whispered idle threats.

I felt taken aback, realizing that these townspeople had come up to the castle simply to complain about my actions. It must be well known by now that this all could have been solved if I had just married the princess as I had been ordered, and their retaliation after my long awaited answer was the result of my refusal. As the man had stated, families were being torn apart and I was the cause of all of this. His wife would still have been alive, and as my eyes met with each and every villager, I realized that my actions had torn something important away from them all. I was stuck between explaining my actions to them and crying, and I wasn't sure which emotion was stronger. My eyes landed on those glassy ones of a young boy hiding behind his mother, the very last person I looked at, and I could see the scars on him from when he'd been attacked, probably after his mother and he had lost their brave father. My throat suddenly closed, and I lost all sense of being.