Young Writers Society

They finished setting places in just a few minutes. The other servants who rushed in and out ignored them as they completed their own tasks. Soon, there was a feast set out on the table and a very anxious looking maid - the same one who had mistaken them for staff in the first place - gesturing for them to stand quietly by the wall with the bottle of wine and pitcher of water that she shoved into Fidel and Kirux's hands respectively.

The maid hurried over to the other side of the room with her own pitcher of water to stand with another servant holding their own bottle of wine.

It wasn't two minutes later when the grand doors at the end of the room opened.



She took a beat too long to answer.

"So you would hurt me purely because you find me unlikable?" she said. The statement was easily refutable. Violence against Megara wasn't exactly an undefendable offense, but her mind was elsewhere.

She played through her death over and over in her head, differently each time. Would she fight back? Would she be able to? Would it be slow? Quick? Would it look accidental?

She's thought about her death before. She was always going to die young, that was for certain, but she never thought it'd be her own fault. She never thought she'd break a rule like this. Get hurt too badly to be kept around.

She fished out a roll of bandages and wrapped her wound.

Kirux made sure to be extra careful when he was holding the pitcher of water. He didn't want to spill it and cause a scene - if he did, he was worried someone would realize he and Fidel didn't actually work there. He was just about to glance at Fidel when he saw the doors begin to open.

His breath caught in his throat.


"That's simplifying it," I pointed out. I mulled it over for a second, then added, "But I guess it's close enough - I don't have any reason to feel guilty about making you hurt and feel scared if the need arises."

Unlike my comment about the deaths of the people who had known my real name, I was serious about that. Being a ghost messed up my morals. I didn't think I had been like that before ending up as my skull and getting stuck in a jar, but it had honestly been too long - I couldn't remember it all that clearly anymore.

But I knew what I felt now, and I knew that Megara hadn't exactly gained any sympathy points from me.

But I was starting to get just a little curious about how she was acting.

"You're ominously silent," I pointed out. "Something on your mind?"

xXx

Megara glared, "I'm thinking. It's a thing the living do, perhaps you 'ought to try it sometime."

The burst of panic she'd felt the moment he pointed it out was well hidden. For just a second, the monotone voice and accusation of unusual silence had made her think of her sister. Such words from Briar's mouth would lead to questions, then answers, then punishment. Such as it always was.

She thought about the basement. The cold. The shackles.

She blinked.

She fell silent. Made sure the bandages were tight enough.

That was a good one - I had to admit that her reply caught me by surprise. I was silent for a few seconds after it. The intention had been to keep badgering her, but I was mentally storing away that retort in case I ever want to use a variation of it on Nathaniel or Asmira.

Once I got over the beauty of the somewhat insult, I turned my attention back to her and her silence.

"You've been impatiently trying to get back home ever since I met you," I said, hopping off of my table and walking over to her. I peered into the first aid kit she had gotten out. I didn't know how to use half of the stuff in there, but I pretended like I did. "Whatever you're thinking about it, it must be something important - you haven't hounded me once about leaving since we got here."

The figure who entered the dining hall couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything but a king.

He wore no crown, but his black and gold attire combined with his perfect posture and the way those dark eyes seemed to see right into the very soul of whatever they landed upon.

When they skimmed over Fidel, they sent a shiver down his spine. There was the unshakable feeling that he knew. The king knew Fidel was an imposter.

As the king took his seat at the head of the table, Fidel was struck with how much he looked like the prince, or how much the prince looked like him.

The only differences were in the lines. Where the prince had softer features, lighter eyes, and a generally friendly look, the king was all hard lines and angles. There wasn't a hint of kindness to be found in the face of the king.

Those who followed the king inside were of equal wealth in appearance, but they seemed wary of the king, even as they spoke to him with false confidence.

xXx

"Maybe I'm sick of hearing you talk," she said with mock-sweetness.

She tied off the bandages and gave Skull her most scathing glare, then moved to keep exploring the shop.

Kirux wasn't as sure as Fidel was about who the king was, but he was able to guess after the king looked at him. The king was really scary - it took all of his control not to start crying again, and his hands shook just a little as he was holding the pitcher.

The king and the others were talking about the kingdom they were. Kirux couldn't really focus on what they were saying with all of his fear, but he was able to pay attention enough to notice when one of the nobles gestured him over and held out a glass.

Kirux made his way over, trying to remember what the servants had been like in the castles he had gone to before. He knew he wasn't supposed to say much, and knew that he was supposed to fill up the glass with the water.

He poured the water into the woman's glass, just barely able to keep his hands steady.


"That didn't stop you earlier," I said. "And I've been mostly silent, anyways - the last time I really talked was back at the castle."

I trailed her as she looked around the shop, glancing at the various things out in the room and occasionally picking them up as I tried to figure out what they did or what they were.

The woman paid Kirux no mind as she addressed the king, "Shall we begin negotiations?" Her voice was a sickly kind of sweet. The kind that left you with a bitter aftertaste and made you think of rotten, poisonous things.

The king made a motion at Fidel, which he took as his cue to follow Kirux's example and fill the king's glass. Once he was satisfied, the king dismissed Fidel with a flick of his wrist and he returned to his spot, out of the way and out of mind.

"Yes." When the king spoke, his voice rang with a deep tenor and a cool sharpness like the bite of frost in the winter. "I understand you would like your daughter to wed my son?"

"Yes," the woman responded. Fidel imagined she was a countess, or perhaps a duchess, someone with enough rank to believe that the biting tone - like she was calling the king foolish - she used on the king wouldn't end in some miserable fate.

She was, apparently, correct, as the king went on as though he hadn't noticed the tone at all.

"And what benefit would I get from this deal?" he asked smoothly.

The woman did a very bad job of hiding the look of absolute offense that briefly crossed her face, but, again, the king didn't appear to see it.

"You will strengthen your alliance with the southern kingdoms," she said, her voice showing the offense she'd hidden from her face.

"I already have alliances with all of the southern kingdoms," the king mused. He was toying with her, Fidel realized.

She didn't appear to have had that same realization. Her mouth opened and closed as she attempted to formulate an appropriate response.

"But they are tentative at best," she retorted, finally, "A marriage between your son and my daughter will make them much stronger, and you know with all the rebelli-"

"Yes, yes," he cut her off, sounding...well, not bored...more dismissive, Fidel decided, "I know about all of that unpleasantness. It is all under control, I assure you." The implication was clear, he didn't need those alliances.

The woman did a rather impressive job of hiding her frustration this time, considering her last attempt.

"What would you like as a benefit?" she asked, rather bluntly.

The king, who had been focused on his meal, now fixed his eyes firmly on the woman, "Lord Tyron is making me a much more substantial offer for his daughter's betrothal than you seem ready to provide me. You may leave, the guards will escort you to the front gate."

The woman opened her mouth, a protest almost visible on the tip of her tongue, then closed it. She pursed her lips and left without any more words than it took to give a polite goodbye.

A man, presumably Lord Tyron, who had remained silent throughout the dinner, spoke up, "Your majesty, if it is not too forward of me to ask this, why did you humor her offer if you did not plan to concede to it?"

That cold gaze landed on the man and Fidel almost felt sorry for him.

The king's voice matched his eyes when he spoke, "It is too forward of you to ask."

There was an awkward pause.

Lord Tyron, or whoever he was, cleared his throat, "Well then, shall we negotiate for my daughter's betrothal then?" He, unlike the woman, was able to speak with the utmost confidence.

"We shall," came the king's response.



Megara turned to face him, her eyes spelling murder in his near future.

"I would really like for you to stop talking," she said, her voice sugar-coated cyanide.

There weren't many possible outcomes to this scenario.

He wasn't flesh and blood, no matter how much she wanted him to bleed, she wasn't going to be able to hurt him so severely as she'd like.

If he kept pressing she'd have to lie. Or say nothing. She could take whatever pain he was willing to inflict on her. She could be realistic, he was in a robotic body with more than programing determining his actions, and she was wounded. He could vary his attack patterns like those guards at the palace couldn't, and she had two weak points and probably more than the preferred amount of lost blood.

Or she could just leave. She could walk out that door right now and figure all this out on her own. Who would try to stop her? Certainly not Skull. He'd said it himself, he found her distasteful. He was willing to hurt her like so many others were. None of them would put effort into keeping her around, so what made him different?

Kirux fell back into the line of servants when the woman ignored him, gaze solely on the king. The other servants must have been taught not to do that, but they were all looking at him, too - it was hard not to.

But then he heard what he was saying about marrying the prince.

The other man - Lord Tyron - and the king started talking about what they wanted to trade. He heard bits about money and land, and how that was somehow the right amount to give up for a person. The thought made him sick. It wasn't right for someone to hand off their daughter to a stranger, and it wasn't right for the king to ignore who the prince loved.

He glanced over at Fidel.


This wasn't going to end well.

I could see it on her face and hear it in her voice. She didn't want to keep talking about this - whatever was bugging her was going to remain a secret. But there was just something irritating about being threatened by someone not even remotely close to your age. Megara could fight. I could see that already. But she had an injured leg, and I had the upper hand when it came to strength and height.

And, though I didn't actually know how to use my strength all that well, I did have my power and my leftover abilities from my time as a ghost.

Megara didn't stand a chance.

"No can do," I said. I pulled myself back up onto where I had been sitting earlier, my gaze still on her. "The last time someone was able to shut me up was when I was a ghost - and you don't have the same advantage she had."

Fidel exchanged a look with Kirux as the discussion continued from the dining table.

The urge to do something, anything, filled him. The wine bottle shook in his hands.

It took every last ounce of his energy to keep from saying...something. Speaking up. Shouting. Maybe a bit of magic...

He forced the bottle to still.

xXx

Megara grit her teeth. A fight now would kill you, the voice in her head was Briar's, ever playing the coach, even when she was worlds away, Appease him. Lie to him.

No. Her voice in her head responded firmly.

Briar wasn't her mother. What was the point of growing up without a mom if there was still someone in your head to tell you what to do?

"And if I don't go spilling my guts for you?" she asked.

Kirux wished he was closer to Fidel - then he could comfort him. He seemed just as upset as Kirux was with the conversation, and it took all of his control to not go running over to him and give him a hug.

Thankfully, he got a distraction in the form of someone beckoning him over to fill his drink.

Kirux did as requested, carefully pouring the water into the glass.

But then his hands shook a little, and some of the water splashed onto the table.


I shrugged.

"I don't know," I said. "I guess that's up to how this conversations goes."

The man made a sound of surprise and scowled at Kriux, then addressed the king, "Is all of your help this incompetent?!" he asked, outraged.

xXx

Megara thought for a moment, her nails digging into her palms so hard they nearly bled, then shoved past Skull to get to the door, grabbing a long pair of scissors on her way as a potential weapon.

"Then this conversation is over," she snapped.

"No," the king said - his voice was cold and heartless, and Kirux knew that he had made a really bad mistake. "Just this one."

Kirux couldn't bring himself to move anymore. He was too terrified; all he could think about was getting caught. Or, worse, getting scolded! His gaze traveled over to Fidel in his fear. He knew Fidel couldn't do anything to help, but he wished he could.


"Where are you going with those scissors?" I asked. "If you're trying to rob this place, I think you picked the wrong thing to steal."

Fidel watched with wide eyes. He was frozen. There was nothing alive in here, nothing that ever had been alive, except...

His eyes landed on the food. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

The king gave Kirux one last icy look before raising his hand and gesturing at one of the guards. The android moved slowly, lumbering footsteps foreshadowing the inevitable, and the king spoke again, "Block three," he ordered simply, and with a flick of his wrist, both Kirux and the guard were dismissed.

Before the guard could grab Kirux, though, the table exploded. Or, rather, the contents of the table exploded.

The stems of the grapes became like thick cords, lashing out to strangle the guard. The fruit grew large and ripe and exploded their mush and juices all over the room.

Fidel wasted no time, he grabbed Kirux and ran.

xXx

She gave him what would have been a sweet smile if it weren't for the murder in her eyes.

"I would like to have as many weapons as I can get my hands on while I'm out in that hellscape," she said, gesturing to the door, "As much as you wish I would go get myself killed, I would rather deal with that inevitability on my own time, so for now, yeah, I'm stealing from here. A tailor should have too much trouble getting a new pair of scissors."

She considered tearing him apart before she left, but decided against it. Physical contact seemed to give him the opportunity to possess people. That wasn't an experience she'd like to repeat.

Kirux's clothes were soaked by the sudden explosion of fruit, but he didn't really think about that - he was just trying to focus on running away with Fidel. He felt a jolt of fear when he realized how close he had been to being put in jail again, but he forced himself to keep running. He even made his keyblade appear, just to be on the safe side. If someone came running after them, he could whack them with it and bring Fidel and him to safety-

An idea suddenly came to him.

He wasn't tired now - he could make one! His mind flickered to the first safe place he could think of. He thought of his home - of the comfort of his room and his bed, and of the comfort of Winnie when she was home.

A corridor of darkness shot out of the ground in front of them.

Kirux rushed in front of Fidel and brought him through the darkness, making the corridor disappear the moment they came out on the other side.

But they weren't at his house.

They were in the alleyway they had been found in earlier.

Kirux turned back and stared at where his corridor of darkness had been.

...That never happened! He always went to the right place...


I would have been content letting her leave earlier. I should have been now, but there was just one problem.

She knew where we were.

And she knew where the prince was.

I didn't know a lot about Megara, but she struck me as the cutthroat type. If it would save her own skin, I'm sure she would let someone know where we were to avoid getting in trouble.

So I hopped off of the chair and blocked the doorway.

"You're not going anywhere," I said.

Fidel was reeling. His head spun as much from the sudden all-encompassing darkness as the use of his magic like that. He'd never used it maliciously before, he realized.

He didn't have time to contemplate that, though, because he had the whole other pressing issue of where and how...this.

He gestured vaguely at the alley and gave Kirux a confused look, "How...?"



Megara eyed him, "Going to make good on your threats, are you?"

She knew she was going to lose this fight, and she knew that that fact would just add to the reasons she was so very dead the second she got home, but she was perfectly willing to engage in it anyway. She'd planned to give herself a dignified death on some symbolic date back home, but with her injury and little acts of rebellion, she was starting to see a much worse fate than that in her near future. If she was lucky, he'd kill her.

It wasn't like he was unwilling.