currently recovering
from a hiatus.
The sight of such a dear friend was warming to her somewhat lonely heart and the smile that graced her lips was wholehearted and true. Nothing about her faltered as she was thrilled to have some company of her own, especially because King Valemon was such exquisite company to have. He held fine wisdom and many tales, yet held an air about him which was both captivating and regal; unrivalled by anyone else she knew. He was a King, it was obvious to any who passed him, and she wondered if he view that as more of a curse than a blessing.
Sometimes, the burden of royalty is heavier than the shoulders it sits upon and she hoped that Valemon wasn’t crushed by it as she was.
Queen Elisa held out her hand and nodded her head, the grin still remaining as she greeted him. “As are you. However mine are pained due to straining them upon looking out my window. I’m sure your eyes are much more travelled.” She was extremely thankful he had spared his time, let alone his energy to come out and visit her. Yet, their meeting was not only out of friendship. Word was spreading of a disturbance in the Homelands and as Elisa was so shielded from what lay beyond her kingdom, King Valemon’s information could be extremely beneficial to her as no one concerned her with matters of the world, not even her husband.
“Please sit and help yourself to anything upon the table, the tea or the sweets.” She gestured towards the couch opposite her and to the small pot, cups and plates of neatly prepared sandwiches, pastries and cakes. “If that does not satisfy you do let me know, for I can always organise something else. You deserve a fine rest!” Her smile was terribly warm, her entire aura radiated a certain calmness that even caused the wind to still. And whilst she sat upon the couch her hands fell neatly into her lap, her eyes never once leaving him, not even to gaze upon the flowers.
“How have you been?”
However they had a business to attend to and whilst she didn’t want to hurry her guest, she was horribly eager to learn what could be so threatening it even had the Kings in a state of mild panic. Valemon would certainly know; perhaps he even had a solution. For if it were that terrible, wouldn’t the brightest minds be working together to prevent it? Elisa was afraid she was underestimating, or even overestimating the entire situation. Perhaps it was nothing at all.
He approached her, gently grasping her small and delicate hand into his. Still smiling he bent down and as due to customs and proper etiquette he placed a chaste kiss on the top of it. He lifted his head and gave her a more grim smile, and nodded slowly. “Perhaps,” he began and stood up. “But all the more I am saddened by what I see.” The king moved back and sat himself opposite of her on the other couch. “Thank you, I’m sure all of this fine sweets are more than sufficient for me my dear Queen.”
Again he showed his smile, the one that most found comforting and in some ways a bit mysterious. “But alas, I don’t think it is my time to rest, nor have I for the past months.” Indeed he was fatigued, but that was something he would never allow to reach the surface. He was the source of power for his people, and that he had to stay. “Considering, I would say I am not holding on too bad but—”, he let out a sigh, his eyes dropping slightly. “I am indeed rendered restless by the situation we have found ourselves in.” He looked up again to meet her eyes, worry as well as determination flicking over his eyes. With a heavy heart he began to speak of the situation beyond the walls and borders of the Queen’s land, because he was sure she wasn’t informed of it all.
“You have heard the rumours and panicked sayings have you not?” He questioned and glanced out the window while trying to form a way of delivering the information he held. However he was almost certain she had only been told the very least, nothing that could properly describe the terrors he had heard and what they unknown to him soon would experience themselves. “Something, or rather someone, called the Adversary has taken charge of nearly the entire Homeland” His own words were painful to utter, a part of him wanted to ignore the threats.
“They haven’t stopped for anyone and it seems they never will either” He leaned over his knees, hands clasping hard together. “Villages are burned and hundred, if not thousands, have met the worst of all fates.” It was indeed horrible, he hadn’t seen anything by his own eyes but in a way he had no need to do so. The words burned and came as a painful remembrance that indeed nothing would last forever, and they often came to tragic ends. Taking in a deep breath he caught the other royal’s eyes, his tone serious and grim.
“They are soon at our doorstep Elisa.”
Hazel eyes beared an apologize twinkle for having cut him short as he spoke, it wasn’t politely and not even fair to a king or a patient, she was once again letting the worry take the best of her actions and with a slightly nod she took a deep breath to concentrate in aiding the dearest king. “Don’t say that, your highness.” The doctor knocked the wooden piece of her desk as if the simple action could change any future, it wasn’t a surprise that the red-haired actually believed in any kind of superstition, witches after wall were strong believers in the laws of the universe.
The petite woman shrugged softly, knowing it was a misbehaving towards the royalist and a pet peeve to her usually polite self but Katherine couldn’t help but ignore that comment in particular, yes, it was ironic that she was stubborn enough to argue with him in order to be polite when arguing wasn’t the most politely thing to do towards a king.
“You’ll always be a king for me, your highness.” She smiled softly, gently unwrapping the cloth from his wounded hand. “It’s a pretty deep cut for a utility knife, your highness, you should be more careful.” The red-haired muttered as she clothed her hands with the medical gloves to exam the cut better and avoid any possible infections.
Moving through the office to reach the hydrogen peroxide, Katherine quickly pressed the cotton against the top of the tube before applying it against his injured hand. “It’s going to sting a little, your highness, but I need to clean the blood or it might get worst.” The doctor nodded her head in a silent encouragement, as if telling the taller male he would be okay. “Please, try to stay still.” She asked.
Hopefully enough, her king would behave nicely and she would be able to tend his wound just as quickly as a blink, that of course, if the universe was on their side – and it hardly was -.
“You’ll always be a king for me, your highness.”
He let out a sigh. The Fables thoughts once again proved right, there was simply no way the doctor would ever let go of his past title so easily. He wanted so badly to retaliate to her sentence that no; he was in fact no longer a king. What was a king without a country nor people to reckon him as one?
“I’ll try.” He replied to her careful warning. It had indeed been a simply idiotic accident, one he wasn’t even entirely sure how he had managed to do. The box had been taped shut even more than usual, leaving the male to having used perhaps a bit more of his strength than he should have. And perhaps more than he had expected to use, leaving the knife to fly through the paper and into his hand.
His nose wrinkled as she requested him to stay still. He nodded, but he was already feeling restless just being in the hospital. Public places like this, so sterile and reeking of other’s dreadful misfortune had never been a place he wanted to spend time in more than necessary. And this was no exception.
And as the cotton came in contact with the wound he couldn’t help but flinch. A small murmur of unfitting words for a king escaping his lips as he unconsciously attempted to pull his hand towards him in defence. It was no secret that the liquid made his wound hurt, and that badly at that. Not that he had been afraid of pain but the fact that he was sitting in the hospital, and asked to stay still with an open wound tugged at his patience.
Gritting his teeth he attempted to stay still once again, as she continued to clean his wounds. Something that proved itself easier said than done, as he time and time again flinched as it came in contact with the liquid. A long sigh escaped his lips as he lifted his gaze to the roof, attempting to distance himself from the throbbing pain in his palm.
Whether or not a case was big, they more often than not involved a chase. It had gotten to the point that the police men were required to work out during their free time just to be able to keep up with any potential fugitives. It was aggravating at the least, when they ran. And for some reason, they always run. Running doesn’t make them look any more innocent—rather the opposite. And running doesn’t decrease the length of their jail time. At some points it was understandable when they felt like they could escape—when a cop was busy, or the place was crowded. But this one—this one made no sense. Gabriel was less than a second away from handcuffing the guy when he sprinted. It took exactly a second for Gabriel to figure out what was happening and to go after him.
The fable was just gaining on the criminal when a gun was taken out and bullets were being shot. Immediately, the cop got as low as he could—which was on the ground—and took cover behind a dumpster. He heard the metal screeching under the hard bullets, causing him to flinch. He waited a second before grabbing the shotgun from his belt, turning his body so he could face the latter, shooting at the figure. He missed, and quite obviously when a trash can from the distance screeched just as the dumpster had. He had to get closer, but he couldn’t get out from behind the metal box that was giving him all the protection he had. As if to make things even worse, he felt searing pain shoot up his left arm. Gabriel made the quick decision that it was broken from getting on the ground.
The longer he was sitting down the farther the criminal was getting. So he stood up, ignoring the pain in his arm as he ran forward. His bullets were getting closer to his target, but so was the other’s. He couldn’t stay exposed, he decided, and headed inside a building. The door shut close behind him and he was thankful for the light that it offered. Though that thanks only lasted for a moment, as the light showed him that he didn’t, in fact, break his arm. His shoulder was shot at, and a constant stream of blood flowed from it, drenching his shirt. “Shit..” he breathed out harshly, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie he hooked on his belt. His words were breathy and harsh, “I’m shot, left shoulder, can’t chase after the guy. He was running down..near the..Myeongdong..second something. He was just running straight. I got him in the foot, but I don’t think it did much.”
The conversation soon ended but the blood failed to follow suit. His teeth at this point was clenched, the sleeve of his jacket pressed down hard to his shoulder as his eyes shut in pain. It was as if a light switch turned something on in him that said, You aren’t alone. that caused him to sit up straighter, his head turning in all directions before landing on the face of what seemed to be a stranger at the time. “You mind closing early today?”
Time had seemed to pass slowly that day, and as in a trance the Fable had gone about his business. Greeting customers, placing books into the shelves, helping customers and receiving packages. The recipe for a completely ordinary, and to some, a dull day. And after a while, the shop found itself shrouded in a heavy silence.
Though, a silence that was welcomed in the mind of the shop keeper. When hadn’t the exiled King welcomed silence as an old friend? Silence had been the Fables only companion for years to pass and years to come. Silence, ah the beauty of hearing nothing but your own heart beat and chest rising was an escape of sorts. No matter how strange it sounded, it was indeed an escape. An escape that to other seemed like a prison, a prison of oneself and all the thoughts that one harboured even the ones hidden away.
Perhaps it was the same for Won Bin as well. But the only difference was the fact that his most hidden thoughts to the outside world was always present to him. He never had a break towards the absolutely devastating thoughts of his former self and former life. And perhaps that was the reason he had gone and become, oh what was it the Mundane called it? Oh yes, an alcoholic. It was not a title he appreciated having, but in the eyes of other fables and mundanes he was probably an alcoholic. The smell of alcohol, mixed with the smell of his cigarettes, often lingered on his clothes giving him no way to hide. Not that he needed to either.
But a silence so golden never stays for long. Nothing good ever does and this time was no exception. It caught him off guard. The usually composed and stoic male flinched visibly with eyes widening as the door was yanked open and a person nearly fell in. Or did he actually fall in? He mused as he had managed to compose himself again, silently taking in the visage of the person in front of him.
And it didn’t take him long until he realised exactly what he was dealing. A fable, a police officer at that. His nose scrunched slightly until the other finally realized he was no longer alone. “No, I don’t.” He simply replied and closed his book. It seemed that there was nothing further for him to do besides sitting there and awaiting what the other was to do. A rather uncomfortable feeling, however, shot through him. Fellow fables had never been his cup of tea. Not then, not now.
The night had already grown dark, a time where most sought to the comfort of their home. Children were put to sleep and adults were glued to the box they called a television. However that was different for the exiled King whom couldn’t stand being in the four walls of his home and the suffocating feeling that ensued.
But perhaps he was a bit contradicting in his own ways? He detested often the company and mere sight of other men and fables, but by far his dislike was greater towards the nights and it’s terror that came to him in his sleep. And the only way to dull it had been a glass of alcohol.
— or five.
It was no secret to others that the Fable drank a lot when he wasn’t working. It had gone to the point where other fables would bring a bottle of Whisky to him when in dire need of his help and quick. But those bottles were long since finished to the last drop and left the dark haired man to venture to clench his thirst elsewhere.
And that elsewhere had for the occasion turned into a bar he had frequented since it’s establishment days. Also being the place where a fellow Fable spent his days as a bartender. It wasn’t that he was particularly close with the other Fable, but he enjoyed the atmosphere and the general feeling of the bar. Besides, what problem couldn’t alcohol fix?
With a gentle push he opened the door into the bar, eyes landing on the bartender, and fellow fable, as he offered a small nod. As the door closed behind him he ventured towards the bar counter, positioning himself next to the wall and hopefully a place other patrons wouldn’t decide to strike up a conversation.
There was nothing that represents the meaning of utopia in the real world than the hope for a calm day at the emergency room. Though it wasn’t the scenario for the chaos breaking loose, people were still running and covering every corner of the most urgent wing of the hospital, blowing the wine red colored hair strand that fell lose from the braid her hair was arranged at the doctor realized she wasn’t an exception and that it was the first time in more than an hour that she was sitting down, and only because she needed to get the patient a shot even when he was not very willing in cooperating with her.
How some people could be worse than three years old when a needle was at sight was beyond her, but at least she didn’t quite needed to chase them down the hospital like it happened before. Lord knew how she started to hate hide and seek games after experiencing the hospital level of it.
“Sir, please, I’ll be as quickly as possible if you could stop moving.” Her voice rang in such a peaceful tone that seemed to surprise even the middle aged male sitting in the examination table. “We need to strengthen your immune system before we can go for the real medi-…” Jihyun’s speech was cut short by the yelp of the nurses from across the room that was waving the telephone for her to come pick the call. Hazel eyes met the onyx colored ones of the intern accompany her, silently asking him to take over before handing him the syringe.
When the name Wonbin was mentioned by the nurse from the general wing it took her a few seconds to finally link the name to the person, after all, the petite woman was still not used to call her king anything but his title, the royalist’s real name sounded odd in her voice and his cover name was something she was still trying to get used to. Asking the nurse to politely refer the gentleman to her office, Qri made her way through the elevator to meet him there.
Eight floors later, the doctor’s doll-like huge eyes seemed to grow twice bigger at the sight of her king’s hand wrapped into bloody clothes while looking very uncomfortable and lightly annoyed once the elevator’s metallic doors opened. “What happened? Please, come with me, fine sir.” Jihyun almost yelped, running to make her way towards the king and open her office for both to enter, closing the door behind them with the worry evident in her eyes.
“Please, sit down, your highness! There’s a lot of blood and you might get dizzy.” Placing one of her hands on his shoulder, the petite woman led him to the examination table, carefully unwrapping his hand as he sat. “Do you need water or anything, your highness? I will need to clean up the wound before anything and that might hurt a bit, I apologize in advance.”
The nurse gestured towards the elevator before speaking up, seemingly finished on her part of the phone. “Her office is on the eight floor.” The fable nodded his head and walked towards the metal doors, simply waiting. He took the time to look down at his hand, and as always, it took forever to heal. Won Bin let out a sigh and walked into the elevator, moving up to the eight floor with his eyes glued to the door in front of him.
Oh how he hated hospitals.
The doors had barely opened before he heard her voice call out to him. “Qri—”, he was about to explain the situation before he was ushered to her office, and he complied. There were no unneeded stares between the four walls of her office. "I’m not dying Qri.“ he replied shortly and sat down as he was told. He glanced around her office, not seemed to have changed since the last time he had stopped by.
”..your highness?“.
He hadn’t really caught on to the first part of her sentence until he had heard his old title. "Qri we did talk this over.” He loosened the red cloth against his hand as he spoke, eyes halfway closed as the wound came into sight and he rolled the cloth into a bundle. “I don’t have the rights to that way of being spoken to anymore.” Indeed he had mentioned it to the doctor on almost every occasion they had spoken, but she had refused to listen each and every time. He assumed she wouldn’t listen to him this time either.
“I cut my hand on an utility knife while opening a box of books.” A simple yet painful accident to do, and perhaps a bit idiotic as well. He was at loss himself how he had even managed to perform such an act of idiocy. A feeling told him he would most likely not even get to know himself either. Without a further word he lifted his bloodied hand up towards her. He had no doubt she would know what to do and simply left it up to her to fix the gash going straight across the palm of his hand.
Her silk hair had been twisted into a plait that rested upon her prominent collarbone and accentuated her neck, whilst her porcelain skin was powdered by a young girl with freckles sprinkled over her nose in order to erase her non-existent imperfections. Today, the queen would not be trapped in her usual silence, for a friend was travelling specifically to visit her. After some convincing, her husband allowed her the privacy of the tearoom for the afternoon in order to entertain her guest, whom shared her perseverance yet also her reserved nature. The times they had met previously had only cemented their likeliness with one another and this mutual demeanour was what birthed this unlikely partnership— perhaps even friendship.
The queen pursed her rouge lips as she stood by the window, the young maid bowing her head in her direction. “He should be here shortly.” Elisa was left with only her silence, her gaze capturing all the outside world had to offer. If the rumours were true, this land could possibly be devoured by flames and evil within the next few months. She was no stranger to evil, yet evil was a stranger to her. She repelled it’s menacing claws, yet could that really be enough to prevent her people from being captured by the demon’s clutches? Truthfully, her spirit was crying out for anything to pry her from her tedious life. The King only saw her beauty and nothing more, her brother spent his days away from the public eye for his swan wing was far too peculiar, and she kept her magics a secret from all but a few— she was almost set aflame once, who was to say it couldn’t happen again?
An escape from this life would be a dream, yet she had her people to serve and every inch of goodness within her being knew that abandoning them would be a sin. However, she was bound to this kingdom by an unhappy marriage— and that was a weak set of chains for a woman with such a bustling soul and lionheart.
A vase sat within the center of the table as she sat upon the lavish couch. The flora was dull if anything and hardly complimented the treats and tea laid out over the table. Doe-eyes scanning for any witnesses, the Queen curled an index and watched with great joy at the roses that spawned from inside of the glass; replacing the wilted flowers with their emerald stems and ruby red petals. It was then she heard the creak of wood and she leaned back into the sofa, retreating her hand. Elisa’s auburn eyes expectantly watched the doorway to the tearoom, awaiting the icy visage of the White Bear— her guest.
A 4 days travel or so was the only thing it took the White Bear to reach his destination. The Kingdom he was visiting had been a friendly nation to him and Ultima Thule for ages to show. The current Queen being no exception. The reserved yet warm nature of the Queen mixed with his own reservedness and bustling courage had formed a strange sort of coalition. Although Valemom had never been viewed in perhaps the most positive way by the country’s King he had not cared about it. Just due to the very fact of Queen Elisa being who she was.
“Sire we will arrive in a few minutes time.” He nodded his head to the rider trotting over to his side. The King almost wanted to huff. Had he been travelling alone he would have covered the distance in mere two days time. The speed his animalistic form held was beyond ordinary, and he quite enjoyed having that upper hand when needed. Alas, today was an official visit. Riders and banners on all side of him. As customs foretold he wore his uniform jacket and his hair was well groomed, all that expected of a true King. There was none who would ever think otherwise once they looked at his stance or saw his eyes. Those eyes that often stood in stark contrast to what his visage often made him seem to be, cold.
“Welcome your Highness.”
He offered a smile as his company and him had made it through the castle gates. “Much appreciated.” His voice was so fluid and kind it even managed to drag a smile to his greeters face. “Queen Elisa is awaiting you in the tea-room, so if you’d please.” The same aged man, gestured for the other to follow him into the castle. A lavish castle it was indeed, close to rivalling his own though he would always prefer his home. As the man stopped in front of a door, he waited two steps behind him as he called into the room before opening the door. “Your highness, King Valemon has arrived.”
The man then excused himself, leaving it only be Valemon who entered the room. Closing the door behind him he turned towards the female sitting on the sofa. “Queen Elisa.”, he begun while offered a small bow and one of his trademark smiles. “You are indeed a sight for sore eyes in these times.” Without further words he approached the middle of the room and stopping in front of the couch and held out his hand for her to place her’s into.
Though her own persona which dwindled upon the remnants of her own thoughts as she chose that moment to wander almost aimlessly. Books were a tragic creation in which their writers chose that moment to etch thoughts and desires upon pages in which their own thoughts inevitably consumed them and only pinpointed and written within the duration of their own reality.
There was a visible pause as black cladded pumps now stood to a standstill, the owner of the very Louboutin’s paused to linger upon a series of books that stood in silence, seeking to be purchased.
Inhale.
Delicate digits that curved upon the very spine as the blade ran across the newly designed paperback cover, pausing once more before those dark obsidian orbs pulled away – along with her attention to the sound of an unrecognized baritone voice that echoed in her own ears.
/“Welcome.”/
As simple as a welcome was and perhaps in his nature something that now became of a custom to those who worked in retail; questioning and almost amused to the very manner in response to such a mundane and monotone.
Exhale.
Air that expelled through ruby red tiers and later brushed the lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand; cocking her head in one direction; eyes officially peeling away from the cursive script of the title before those emotionless features shifted in response.
“Ah, thank you.” A reply so simply as she acknowledged the coffee bearer. His very features recognized by her own memory and new found amusement. – yet visibly she was still quite stoic and calm.
Her own calm mannerism ever so evident in her cool response; she truly was very impassive.
“I have a question, good shop keeper.” Her voice quiet, though audible amidst her state of mind. “What would you recommend a politician? Perhaps a dictator? Something not of a best seller and something known to some I’d hope. Anything… interesting?”
Though her voice was audible, the sound itself that refused to match her own vocals. Scratchy and hoarse though her elegant features refused to suit such a songstress; she was the sea witch after all.
He could faintly remember having seen her face somewhere and somehow, but where? The Fable couldn’t really say. Instead, as she seemed to have her attention elsewhere, he sat down on his chair waiting for her to approach him. If even at all.
Then again, Won Bin was far from the perfect merchant. He had little to speak of in terms of social skills and he wasn’t a people’s person at all. Yet he managed to keep the book shop up and running, something to him as well sometimes seemed as a miracle.
“Ah, thank you.”
He nodded in response and picked up his cup of coffee. And at first he was sure she wouldn’t ask anything further. Or perhaps that was the only thing he had managed to read off her face, although wrongly. But so be it, he was after all a worker under the customer service, supposedly. As she called out to him, in a voice that did not match her looks in the slightest, he couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow.
“A politician or dictator?”, he paused, allowing the thought to be mauled over in his mind for a bit. Indeed what would one recommend to someone with only knowing the fact that the person was a person of powers, so to say. “That highly depends on the person.” He began and took a sip of his coffee. “I can think of several, one being The Grapes of Wrath.” He set down his cup of coffee and folded his hands together as he leaned over his wooden counter.
“Are you thinking of something in particular or are you simply curious?” he asked plainly, taking this time to look once more over her visage. Had become a tad senile or did he simply just not know who she was? Probably the latter he figured and awaited her answer, there wasn’t anything in particular to do besides such.
Xinyuan leaned forward onto the counter, a pen tightly held betwixt her fingers as she counted softly to herself. The register needed to be accounted for before she could go on to her next task of locking up the cafe, then, and only then, could the girl leave for the night. For the girl, this was considered an early night. Usually, her boss would ask her to stay overnight at the cafe to keep an eye on things and even prepare it for the next morning, which she’d agree to as she needed the money. For tonight, though, she could go home—back nearly into the forest in her run-down shack, yet a home to her nevertheless.
Turning her attention back onto the pen in her hand, she’d finally counted each and every bit of currency settled comfortably in the register, then marked it in the book before her. Thankfully, her register didn’t come up short, so she wouldn’t have to answer any unusual questions from her boss. Besides, if it would have, she would have just replaced it with what little money she had to her name anyways—just to keep the old man off her back.
Xinyuan regained her standing position, closed the register, and hastily walked into the back room to place the book into the safebox on the boss’ desk. Turning on her ballet shoes, the girl hurried to grab her keys and rid herself of the place, even if it would be for just a few short hours. Though the girl loved working there since she was surrounded by a friendly staff and the place was a source of income for her, she still relished in closing time when she could escape to her home in the quiet that surrounded the forest. Surely the hustle and bustle of her place of employment was a well-deserved change from what she’d previously experienced…forever surrounded by deadly silence, but she had grown accustomed to such a life that she often sought refuge in it.
Slipping on her light brown coat, Xinyuan stepped out into the chilly night air and turned towards the cafe to lock the door. Xinyuan was glad that it was finally finished. The girl was free—free to do what it was she wanted to do. Xinyuan’s heels clicked with the rhythm of her steps as she walked along the sidewalk. Eyes wide and observant, she scanned the streets. During this time, people were enjoying the nightlife. She’d always spot people with crowds of friends as they found places they wanted to spend their time. She often wondered how it’d be if she were to join in with those crowds of people, but they were of two completely different worlds—literally—so she knew that she potentially couldn’t partake in such activities that the Mundanes could. Looking around her, her eyes locked onto a bookstore she’d always encountered during her walk home, yet she never entered. While most businesses were closed during this late hour, the bookstore wasn’t. Oh well, though. How bad could it be to actually go into the shop and browse around, even if for a bit?
Slowly, she walked towards the entrance of the bookstore, a slight smile crossing her lips. She was truly curious over the works she’d find, the poetry she’d happen across, and even the artwork on the cover of some books. Either way, whatever she’d find, she’d be sure to enjoy it. She hadn’t read a book in quite some time, maybe she could find a little…hobby to indulge herself in aside from her constant drawing? Grabbing the door handle of the entrance, she slowly stepped inside as she was greeted by the doorway bell overhead and the warm gush of heat from inside.
The day had been a calm one. Not many customer had passed through the store, or fables for that matter. Though the silence was never a bad on, Won Bin reasoned. A silence so pure and quiet one couldn’t help but love being in it. Something he particular did, probably more than anyone else he knew off.
Hence, the exiled King had been able to catch up on his reading. Finally he had managed to finish the newest book, given it was published in 2009, by Haruki Murakami. 1Q84, so surreal but in a way so very understandable and relatable for the fable. Two paralell worlds and the danger from one side. The fable had read many works up through the time, ranging from where his own fable came from to the far east. And through the years he had set his love on the then, young boy at the mere age of 30 years, with his debut novel 風の歌を聴け, or as it was know in english; Hear the Wind Sing.
‘Ah the year of 1979’, the years of student rallies and communism. Perhaps it was the fact that he had always stood as an outsider and looked in, that he always found the Mundanes so intriguing— Perhaps. Alas they weren’t far from the fables in sense, the Fables back in the Homelands were victim to sudden rallies and such, but not in the same way. Something struck him as different as he watched men and woman alike step up to say their opinion. A half smiled grazed his lips as he looked down at the book cover of 1Q84, they were intriguing indeed.
As the sky turned orange, almost painted by the sun’s own shine the bell hanging over the door went off. He lifted his head to look at his late coming customer. “Welcome.” he greeted and took in her being. And the first thing that hit him was the all too familiar presence of a Fable other than himself in the store. But he was not one to comment on such a thing, not unless they decided to tell him themselves. He had no need for information he did not need or sought.
“Let me know if you need help, but I’d like to mention we will be closing in half an hour at the most”, but Won Bin was in the business of driving a store and some customer service was needed. He looked at her one more time, her pale skin and her long jet black hair, before he looked away. His gaze dropped down as he pushed the finished book over to the side of his counter. Moving his hand to the side he grabbed his log, and started writing down the purchases and changes to the store, yet few but still evident.
He was aware of her, she noticed. But she knew also he had been a King – everyone in the meeting would speak behind his back about his life, back in the Homelands – and if there was one thing she had learned with her Father, was that Kings like to be pleased and it doesn’t mind how good and fair they are, they know they are better than the others around them. And she was pretty sure that wouldn’t exclude him, the one she couldn’t remember the name yet.
So she waited, as he waited for her, until he finally replied her and then again, with a nod, when he told her about finishing the cigarette. It was comprehensible, and she took two steps back so this way she wouldn’t be hit by the disgusting smoke.
Her eyes followed the burned tip until it met the snow grass beneath them, and then they went to focus on the store’s owner again. He acted just like a normal human, as he had never been a Fable, and he was so good at that. Soojung got somehow jealous at this ability of his – and a little content he was like everyone had described him, so that way he’d be able to help her as she thought. Hopefully.
The King entered the store and exited many times, and the mermaid only looked, not daring to do anything – until she realized she was being slow again. As he stepped inside the library, she followed him, kicking the snow off her boots as she did so. She remembered glancing at him once or twice, before her eyes started to fall on the few vestiges of white on the black of her shoes – and then he spoke, and she had to face him again, and she wasn’t sure if that face of his had been always that harsh.
His soft tone combined with such direct sentence caught her off guard. The red-haired woman took a strand of hair, combing it with her fingertips before placing them behind the shell of her ear. “I think you’re good at catching up stuff.” She replied simply – or hoped it would seem like so, at least.
Clearing her throat once was the best she could do to keep speaking formally and in a way he would understand, not forcing anything. And introducing herself would be the best way to not stumble over herself and call him by a name he didn’t had. And so she did. “But it’s not completely true. I still need something about the World War II. But if you’d prefer discuss something else—I’m Soojung, or Ariel, as you may know me.”
“I think you’re good at catching up stuff.”
He watched as her eyes turned back to his, though he assumed her attention had been on him this whole while regardless. The fable chuckled slightly, yet with a bitter undertone before she spoke. “I have to be, or else I do not survive.”, the truth tinged quite heavy on the small sentence but reality was harsh.
As she introduced herself, her scarlet hear suddenly made sense to the male. “The little mermaid.” A tale from the country of Hesse, a neighbouring country to his own homeland. “My name is Won Bin, although I’m sure by the amount of whispers whenever I appear you would know my other name.” He wasn’t a fool, and like she had herself mentioned; he picked up on things very well. And there was no hiding he wasn’t a lot of fables favourite King that had escaped into the Mundane world, not by far.
“Well, ” he began and folded his hands together on the wooden surface of his counter. “first of all, what do you need help with Soojung?” For now he would put his discomfort to the side and actually do what he had offered to do for the good. To provide guidance and information about the Mundane world and it’s history. A history he had personally experienced and seen through to the very second they were now standing in.
“If it’s about the second world war I have several books on that, both non-fiction and fiction.” The topic was vast and the entire world had their own way of writing the outcome. Such a great war, almost much like the one they were in the midst of themselves, had taken it’s toll on the Mundanes. Even though the fighting generation were soon to die out. But he remembers those day, even if it was calm in the US compared to the European continent, you clearly saw the events even here.
A seemingly doomed war.
“Sire please..”
“Your royal Highness please listen to us.”
“King Valemon we must—”
Charged with incredible power he slammed his fist into the thick and large oak table, interrupting his advisors. “We must not such a thing!” He growled out over the assemble of people around the long table. Quickly he rose to his feet, placing both hands on the table. “Are we mere cowards whom will give in to any threat that is posed to us?”, he began and watched as his advisors began to avoid his look. “Are we not the royal kingdom of Ultima Thule, the country home to the six month nights?”
His questions were direct, demanding to be answered. King Valemon was not a man to be taken lightly. He had fend of attackers before and come out victorious each time, a King worthy of his crown. “..However sire—” one of them began with a meek voice. “Even Aslan has ordered every fable out of the Homelands, we must heed to his advice it is no—” Though by the harsh look of his King the advisor stopped mid-sentence and dropped his gaze again. “I am not abandoning my people.” Saying his final words he left the room, his step echoing against the marble walls of his castle.
But a King in such dire situations are seldom left alone for long, and after a few minutes one of his trusted subjects came running towards him. “Your Highness.”, he called from across the hall and bowed. “Your Highness we have prepared the carriage for the Queen and the Princesses.” Askeladden spoke with the outmost care, and watched as his King’s eyes grew sad at the thought. But for King Valemon, it was necessary to ensure him they would still be alive at the end of the war. “..Good work Askeladden, I’ll go right away.”
He left the blonde man behind and as the dark sky outside came to view in the windows he exited out to where the carriage stood. As on que his Queen came out followed shortly by his three little girls. “Far! Far!” Upon spotting him they ran to him all three and he squatted down to embrace them all three. Nothing was said as long as the hug lasted. “Father, are you not coming along?” the oldest of the three questioned. Solemnly he shook his head. “I fear not my precious. I need to stay here.” The three girls soundly voiced their objections, King Valemon allowing them to do so freely. However as their mother, the Queen, shushed them they stayed silent. He rose to his feet and watched as she spoke to them in that warm voice that she had always possessed. “Your father is not yours only my dearest girls. He’s the entire Kingdom’s father, and he must protect it just as he protects us by doing this.” Her voice was like velvet, soft and smooth and he couldn’t help the smile that stretched out on his face. The three girls silently agreed to their mothers words and turned towards the carriage with a sad look on their face.
It broke his heart, it really did. But were they to have a chance at surviving this they needed to be far away from this madness. “My dear.”, her voice made him turn towards her, again smiling as he moved closer. Without hesitating he wrapped his arms around her frail form, holding her close. With a whisper she posed the question she had refrained from asking in front of the girls. “Must it be like this? Can’t you follow us instead.” Silently he shook his head and pulled back to look at her face. And as tears welled up in her beautiful eyes he lifted hand to cup her cheek. “I’m sorry.” He muttered and pulled her closer to leave a soft kiss tinged with sadness on her lips. “Stay alive and I will find you, if I don’t live past this start over. I love you.” Nodding she held onto his hand as long as she could before letting go and walking into the carriage.
And that was the last thing he said to his wife, his Queen and mother of his children, and the last he would see of her and their children for decades to come.
