hazarded:
“Could I have some food?”
“What food?” he replied, hands held out to indicate his own confusion.
Oh. He’d wanted her to tell him what she would like to eat.
It wasn’t the kind of stuff a girl like her was used to; she’d taken care of herself her entire life. Sure, Lucia and Ben had helped, but it was different – that man wasn’t sharing the load.
He was serving her. What a mindfuck.
“Mh… Mushrooms? If you have any.”
“ If I have?” the strange servant exclaimed, sounding insulted. “You sit. I make good mushroom.”
Actually, he’d made the very best fucking mushroom she’d ever eaten, with lemon, chives and butter, by the looks of it. But that didn’t negate the fact that she was dumfounded by him. It wasn’t only his intimidating appearance; that, she could get. There was something else about him. His voice was confusing her, for one. Every single kingdom around the entire planet had agreed to use Common Tongue as their principal language over a century ago, yet he didn’t seem fluent.
“Has Cook learnt another language, first?” she’d asked Clocks.
The man had just laughed, with a mysterious “you could say that.”
There was a story there, and Belle wanted in.
Considering every mystery around this place, there was a good chance she’d never want to leave.
Today Cook knocked her socks off with a bacon and egg sandwich she’d had to lick from her fingers once she finished.
She’d been on her way out, trainers on her feet, running bra and lycra pants on, when a loud thud distracted her. Then, there was a scream – someone had fallen down.
Following the noise, she walked past the grand staircase, to a door she hadn’t spotted underneath.
She pushed it, looked inside, and then, tried to pick up her jaw from the floor.
When the shock passed, she walked in, took a seat, and watched the show.
There were an infinite number of different martial art styles and techniques; hers was a who-cares-as-long-as-I-win mixture between stuff she’d picked up over the years; she’d taken classes in everything taught by the local youth club, and researched the rest, so she had no problem recognizing most traditional styles.
This was the Guards’ Dance.
The men were armed with a long cane, holding a sword, and they used both like an extension of their arms – the cane was there to protect them as well as to surprise and confuse their enemies.
It didn’t work – from either end – because the three men were that fucking good.
Clocks and Lightwoods had teamed up, against the Beast and Adler. Well, Adler wasn’t actually taking part, but he was definitely on the Beast’s side: every time either guy managed to get close to his back, Adler gave him a warning bark.
She’d never seen the dance before – she’d read about it and seen some picture of the canes, but no one practiced it nowadays. Only Jereen an Royal Guards were trained in that art – and they were pretty damn useless now.
That’s when Belle realized whose house she lived in.
Ten years ago, the cowardly son of King Armand had run from his responsibilities, completely changing the fate of his kingdom – for the worst. Jereen a had been prosperous until then.
The Prince’s desertion had affected everyone in one way; he was to blame for so much pain and sorrow.
Amongst those whose life changed after his departure, were his Guards.
The Guards’ entire existence revolved around protecting the royal family; the three King’s Guards were still faithfully surrounding him, which was the only reason why his detractors hadn’t found a way to get rid of him, yet.
Everyone had wondered what had happened to the Prince’s.
Obviously, they were in front of her, running a seedy club fifteen minutes away from the palace, probably bidding their time until they were needed.
Belle, like most Jereen ans, hated them for protecting the archaic regime that should be overrun, for the good of the