[h1][center][color=DAF6C7]Riona[/color] & [color=ab274f]Wulfric[/color] Part 1[/center][/h1][color=lightgray][hr][hr] [color=DAF6C7]“I beg your pardon, My Lord.”[/color] Riona approached the crow man as soon as she spotted him. [color=DAF6C7]“The man you were dancing with, are you acquainted with him?”[/color] [color=ab274f]“Hmm?”[/color] Wulfric turned towards the stranger. He had been on the lookout for Zarai, who had apparently got entangled in a drinking contest. But now that his attention was on this woman bearing an orange dress, a cat mask concealing her features, he was struck by a strange sensation of [i]familiarity[/i]. [color=ab274f]“Count Hendrix and I have recently become acquainted, yes,”[/color] he answered, tilting his head as he studied her. [color=ab274f]“But if you are interested in him, you need only approach him,”[/color] he suggested, amusement colouring his tone. The appellation “Count Hendrix” surfaced again, affirming that it was the name he was known by within this circle. [color=DAF6C7]“He is a foreigner?”[/color] Riona asked. The crow man had a point, but if the stag man had any relation to the people she was thinking of, then she’d prefer to approach him in a less public space. [color=ab274f]“A foreigner?”[/color] That was a good question. Given how the count concerned himself with Caesonia, the prince suspected his family might have been one of those ‘political exiles’. Here, the woman acted as if she knew him, or [i]should[/i] know him, yet didn’t recognize his name. Curious. [color=ab274f]“You could say. He is from Varian.”[/color] At the very least, Hendrix was a citizen there. Varian. Her heartbeat picked up speed. [color=DAF6C7]“I see, thank you.”[/color] Echoes of memories rippled through her—those days when Ríoghnach had waited with bated breath, impatient for the carriage to emerge from the horizon, carrying people, gifts, and stories from faraway lands. [color=ab274f]“Why all the questions?”[/color] he couldn’t help but wonder. She opened her mouth, paused, and then said. [color=DAF6C7]“Because it is courting season, My Lord. If one must seek prospective matches, the least one can do is ask questions.”[/color] [color=ab274f]“If one must, yes, but [i]you[/i] were not inquiring for the purposes of courting,”[/color] he stated as firmly as he would a fact. [color=ab274f]“There were no signs of romantic, sexual and/or political interest, nor any indications that you were trying to hide such,”[/color] he noted. [color=ab274f]“No, it was more so,”[/color] he fluidly waved a clawed hand, [color=ab274f]“a weaving of the known and unknown, locating something familiar in the unfamiliar, connecting points of information new and old.”[/color] He cocked his head at her again, his fixed gaze briefly revealing the intensity of his intrigue. [color=ab274f]“Since it is evident you have your reasons for secrecy, how about an exchange? Whatever you believe, hm, shall we say safe to reveal? Your information related to the count, and in return, I will offer the same. I would not mind even mundane matters, if you are seeking the same.”[/color] Riona’s dark eyes narrowed as she tilted her chin upward to look down at the taller man. While the stag man brought feelings of nostalgia, this crow man also felt… familiar. Infuriatingly so. [color=DAF6C7]“Rather presumptuous of you. Who are you to dictate what I do or do not feel?”[/color] Even if his claim about her interest in the stag man was on point. The woman’s reaction stirred the edges of faint memories of a time long past, but not quite to the point of recall. [color=ab274f]“I was not dictating your feelings, merely making an observation based on your behaviour,”[/color] he noted. [color=ab274f]“Of course, I may have been mistaken, in which case, I apologize,”[/color] he shrugged easily. [color=ab274f]“Though, your reaction does lead me to believe I was right on the mark.”[/color] He chuckled lightly, entertained. [color=ab274f]“Or is it that you [i]let[/i] others’ words dictate your thoughts and emotions?”[/color] he pondered, almost half to himself. [color=ab274f]“Oh, but these are merely bothersome assumptions again, are they not?”[/color] he added rhetorically. [color=ab274f]“More to the point, is my offer appealing to you or not? If not, it strikes me as rather pointless to exchange pleasantries. Especially given that it is [i]rather presumptuous of you[/i] to demand my name without bothering to introduce yourself first.”[/color] Though he’d thrown her words right back at her, his tone was a contrast to hers; mild and light - almost bored, in fact. A hidden smirk belied his apparent disinterest, however. The crow man sure did like the sound of his voice. Or maybe he was just bored senseless after no one wanted to chat with the oh-so-charming fellow, so he picked Riona to be his plaything. [color=DAF6C7]“Others’ words and attitude [i]do[/i] shape my thoughts and emotions about them. And I’ve decided I’ve already wasted too much of my time and energy on you.”[/color] Her gaze fixed onto his. [color=DAF6C7]“I respect myself too much to keep this conversation going.”[/color] Without another word or gesture of farewell, Riona turned heel. At least she now knew Count Hendrix was a Varian noble. It should be easier to find out more about him from there. That tone of her voice - even if now much older - combined with her fiercely oppositional words, and the number of mannerisms which reminded him of someone from the past…It all clicked together with sudden clarity. [color=ab274f]“Lady Dantès.”[/color] He hadn’t intended to call out to her, and was clearly surprised that this particular name found its way to his lips. Had found its way out to the world after years of silence. Years of being consigned to oblivion; to the belief that the whole family had met a most unfortunate end. The dead name, reanimated by a too-familiar voice, seized Riona where she stood, rooting her feet to the polished ballroom floor. Slowly, she turned to face the crow man, studying him through narrowed eyes to discern which ghost precisely had found its way back to haunt her. For better and for worse, there weren’t that many options. [color=DAF6C7]“Fake Prince?”[/color] she asked at last. [hider=Year 1720, Flora]The train raid to Javaria had been fun. Wulfric didn’t get to ride trains often, and he and his guards and servants had had it all for themselves. After the train ride, a carriage was waiting for them. A drive in that later, he and the company his parents had insisted on arrived at a small estate. It, and the whole town around it were so different from what he was used to. It all looked like something straight out of a fairytale. The young royal could easily imagine it having been built by elves, because the houses sort of looked as if they’d been grown right out of the forest. There was a mystical air to the area, and Wulfric was sure there were all kinds of secrets hidden within. However, he wasn’t here to explore. At his arrival to Count Bernard’s estate, the few guests lingering outside burst into whispers. They did bow or curtsy, but they still reminded Wulfric of flies, what with their annoying buzzing. His guards loomed behind him, their presence serving to deter the buzzards from flying too close. They made their way inside, the count’s servants announcing his arrival. The reception hall was on the smaller side; a good two dozen guests made for a crowd. Then, there were all the children; there were as many youths as there were adults. A large group of children was a foreign sight to the prince, so he watched them curiously. There were those murmured greetings and buzzing whispers again. Wulfric looked from guest to guest, searching for the count. However, the first to approach was Duchess Edwards, who weaved through the crowd, and emerged right into the protective bubble formed by his guards with practiced grace and eerie focus. She had a predatory glint in her eye. Similar to Morrigan’s when was about to torture a ‘fun prey’, as she called it. [color=F0E399]“Hello, Prince Wulfric, how lovely to see you!”[/color] She covered her mouth with a hand as she laughed merrily. But the emotion didn’t reach her eyes; they were all pure calculation. [color=ab274f]“Good day, Duchess Victoria,”[/color] he smiled a smile as empty as hers. [color=ab274f]“You’re a very pretty lady, and that dress really suits you!”[/color] He flattered her the way he had been taught to do in etiquette class. She blushed, and Wulfric wondered if that was acting, or if she was just a fan of compliments. [color=F0E399]“My, what a charmer you are!”[/color] As they talked, they slowly moved towards where he spotted the actual hosts of the party. [color=F0E399]“You will be a lady killer one day, I can tell.”[/color] Somehow, the rapacious glimmer in her eyes became even brighter, intenser. [color=F0E399]“I do have a very pretty daughter, you know? She’s only six now, but give her a few years, and she’ll be the best there is, I know she will!”[/color] Wulfric hummed noncommittally. [color=ab274f]“Girls are boring,”[/color] he commented. [color=F0E399]“Oh! At that age, are you?”[/color] She fake-laughed again. [color=F0E399]“Well, if you’d ever like a friend, I have a son too.”[/color] She suddenly clapped her hands as they came to a stop before the Bernards. [color=F0E399]“But! This is my brother’s birthday. This is Jonathan, Your Highness.”[/color] She leaned down slightly, holding her hand to her mouth, gesturing that she would relay a secret. [color=F0E399]“He is a bit odd, but please, do not mind him.”[/color] She wasn’t quiet enough not to be heard. Did she not realize? “I’m not weird!” The young lord burst out, glaring at his sister. But at his father’s sharp, “Jonathan!” the child looked down, sulking. “Sorry,” he said without looking at anyone. Ignoring what had happened, the prince greeted him. [color=ab274f]“Nice to meet you, Jonathan.”[/color] Wulfric went out of his way to smile at the child, but the boy was still looking down. “Hi. Your Highness.” His reply was sullen, and he even kicked at the floor. Wulfric judged him as very childish. [color=ab274f]“I brought a gift for you. I didn’t know what you liked, so there’s a few things in it. I hope that’s ok.”[/color] Finally, the child looked up again, pleasantly surprised. “O-oh. Thank you…Prince Wulfric.” There was even a slight warm smile, genuine gratitude colouring his expression. [color=ab274f][i]Easy[/i].[/color] “You are very generous, Your Highness.” Count Bernard bowed, taking over for his son. Jonathan gave his father an angry look when the count wasn’t looking, but Wulfric saw it. “Now, let us commence the celebrations!” They were led into the dining room. Even though it wasn’t [i]his[/i] birthday, he was offered the seat of honor. [color=ab274f]“You don’t mind sitting to my right, do you?”[/color] he asked Jonathan, who was still lingering by his side. “Um. I guess…Is it true you’ve never been to anyone else’s birthday party - other than your family’s?” Wulfric nodded, and Jonathan brightened considerably. “Oh! That’s so cool! T-that [i]I’m[/i] the first one, I mean…” he trailed off, slightly embarrassed. But the prince didn’t pay it any mind. [i]Anyone[/i] would be honoured. Their table was set just for the children. That was a shame. Wulfric had wanted to talk to the count, and ask him about this town. He supposed the youngest son would have to make do. They sat down. For the first time, Wulfric could take a good look at the other youngsters. [color=ab274f]“Who are they?”[/color] he asked Jonathan quietly, who eagerly introduced them. Immediately to the prince’s left was a girl in a ruffled, pastel seafoam dress who had white ribbons tied in her black hair. She sat all prim and proper, but had eyes only for him. She was the daughter of a neighbouring baron, Suzanne van Bergen. Next to her were two girls, Margaret Laine and Jennifer Ilves, who were fervently whispering to each other. Here and there, they’d break into giggles after looking at him. They had dresses too, but even though they were multi-coloured, they were plainer than the first girl’s. Margaret had chestnut curls and a freckled face, while Jennifer wore her dark blonde hair in pigtails. The former was a merchant’s daughter, and the latter a banker’s. Next were a pair of twins, Cora and Charlie McDowell. The girl had her hair braided and pinned up, while the boy wore a ponytail. They were both dressed in practical clothing. Maybe it was a local custom, but they just looked very poor to Wulfric. Their parents were owners of a mining company, and were the Bernards’ friends. Close to the twins sat a child whose appearance left Wulfric puzzling over their gender until he heard the name Mariel. Her short, artfully styled ashen hair, coupled with a royal blue doublet and black trousers, could easily have led anyone to mistake her for a boy. She came from the minor noble family of Tveit. At the other end of the table, a girl sitting somewhat apart from the others caught Wulfric’s attention. She had sun-kissed olive skin and dark wavy hair that was slightly browned from time spent outdoors. Her outfit was an unfamiliar, but harmonious blend of Caesonian fashion with accents of Alidasht. When asked about her, Jonathan admitted he wasn’t entirely sure himself. Like Wulfric, this was his first time meeting the girl. All Jonathan knew was that she was the ward of Lord Desmond Dantès. He guessed she may have been brought here to familiarize her with the social circles of nobility. To the right, a pig—wait, no, just a very plump boy—by the name of Florian Lund occupied a seat. The emerald green tunic strained to contain his substantial girth. He was joyously engaged in devouring a pastry, blissfully unaware of the crumbs that scattered onto his lap. Each bite set his rosy cheeks and honey-blonde curls into a cheerful dance. Despite his unassuming appearance, he was the progeny of one of Caesonia’s greatest knights. Next was a tall, gangly boy with wild black hair, who kept grimacing as he strived to avoid Florian’s flailing elbow and the spray of food particles. He was hunched over himself, as if to withdraw into a nonexistent shell. Subtly, he inched to the left, trying to get further away from the fat boy. This bony boy’s name was Juan Venegas, and he was the son of a lord. Adjacent to Juan was a stocky boy who kept shifting around, jittery and restless. Though he kept looking around, he didn’t really seem to notice Juan getting closer. His hair was shorn right down to his skull. Wulfric thought he might jump out of the chair any moment. He was Tomás Meaghan, whose parents were successful in the wood industry. Lastly, there was Lars Blundell, the scion of another lesser noble family. His presence was imbued with a palpable sense of arrogance, his posture and demeanor leaving no room for doubt about his high regard for himself. He seemed utterly indifferent, even dismissive, of the esteemed gathering around him. This included the prince, whom he viewed as an equal at best. His air of superiority was as unmistakable as it was unapologetic, setting him apart from his peers in both manner and attitude. Since it was around noon, lunch was served first. The children were [i]louder[/i] than Wulfric deemed polite, but the conversation topics were familiar. What such-and-such did, or how they’ve gained this-and-that, or did a good-great-charitable-or-some-other thing. The last meal was dessert; a birthday cake, of course. Ooohs and aaahs ensued from some of the more eager children. Then… Then came the singing. The children opened their mouths, and an ungodly cacophony emerged. Wulfric could only stare, slack-jawed, as they began to sing the happy birthday song. Weren’t entertainers supposed to be hired for this part? Was Count Bernard so poor he couldn’t afford them? This was [i]terrible[/i]. [i]Some[/i] of these youths must have had basic music training, but this particular group had never sung together, and it showed. Some started too soon – or too late – and others rushed to get through, while a few were either too loud or too quiet. When it was [i]finally[/i] over, Wulfric congratulated Jonathan, said, [color=ab274f]“Happy birthday,”[/color] and shook his hand. The same sentiment echoed around the table. Jonathan blew out all the candles, mouth puffed and face growing red as he snuffed out the flames. That done, the cake was cut and distributed. Any decorum thus far displayed grew exponentially worse with the amount of cake consumed, Wulfric observed. Florian devoured his piece as greedily as the pig he resembled, the girls’ giggling somehow got [i]shriller[/i], Tomás knocked an elbow into Juan, and even the previously sedate twins were exchanging up-to-no-good grins. After their meal, they were led into a drawing room, where the gifts awaited opening. Jonathan appeared warily hopeful, but not too enthused. There weren’t many presents, but wasn’t he excited about seeing what he’d get? Yet, as the unwrapping commenced, it became apparent that very few gifts were actually intended [i]for[/i] Jonathan. Several were gifted to him, but were meant to impress his parents; things like sample goods from various businesses and territories. A few were actually presented [i]to his parents[/i] while Jonathan received a token gift only. And the ones for him didn’t seem like much in Wulfric’s opinion. [i]His[/i] gift, of course, was special. As he’d said, there were several items packaged together; a sheathed dagger, a leatherbound journal, an embossed fountain pen, [i]and[/i] an intricate puzzle box. Jonathan marveled over each and every one, and turned to him with a huge grin. “[i]Thank you,[/i] Prince Wulfric! These-these are great! It’s…it’s the best gift.” [color=ab274f][i]Obviously.[/i][/color] It was from [i]him[/i], after all, Wulfric thought with a smirk. Jonathan bounded up to him, and Wulfric offered him a hand. The child took it, but also sprung a hug on him. That must have been one of those strange, touchy-feely practices from the north. Wulfric patted him awkwardly and got out of the hug as smoothly as he could. [color=ab274f]“Glad you like it,”[/color] he smiled politely. “I don’t-don’t just [i]like[/i] it, I [i]love[/i] it!” Excitedly, Jonathan proceeded to tell him, and to [i]everyone else[/i] how grateful he was, how generous the prince was, and how great the king and queen were, et cetera. Just as Wulfric had thought that was it for the gift giving, he noticed a girl who’d kept her gift to give to Jonathan herself rather than handing it off to the servants like everyone else had done. It was Lord Dantès’s ward who lingered at the edge of the gathering. Clutched in her hands was a small package, plainly wrapped. She frowned down at it, no doubt realizing it paled in comparison to his perfect gifts. Noticing her hesitation, Lord Dantès went to her side. He spoke gently, reminding her that thought and meaning mattered most of all. With a reluctant nod, the girl shuffled to Jonathan, presenting the package as she said, [color=DAF6C7]“I made this for you.”[/color] Jonathan accepted the gift and peeled away the brown paper. Below the modest wrapping lay an equally modest handkerchief. Some of the children, and even adults, snickered at the present. But when Jonathan unfurled it, Wulfric saw the intricate embroidery—the Bernard crest, Jonathan’s initials, and symbols representing his birth month and blessings for his future. [color=DAF6C7]“I hope you like it.”[/color] The girl watched Jonathan’s reaction anxiously. Thankfully for the young lady, the count’s son appeared happy. “I do,” he reassured. Gently, he traced the embroidered handkerchief, fingers going over each stitching. He ended up putting it into his pocket, then took her hands into his own. “You thought about me when you made it. That means…a lot,” he told her. In fact, Jonathan liked it so much that when they went into the small ballroom, he danced with Lady Dantès first, regardless of what his parents thought about it. Meanwhile, Wulfric, who was more used to dancing with adults, asked Duchess Victoria for the first dance. She was very easy to charm, and though he didn’t enjoy the way she spoke down to him, he was used to that too. Adults always underestimated him. For the second dance, he asked Countess Bernard, who laughed when he did so, told him he was adorable, and accepted. Even so, the countess urged him to dance with ‘someone his age’ next, so Wulfric picked Lady van Bergen. He didn’t [i]like[/i] Suzanne, but she never figured it out. She was blushing so hard, Wulfric wondered if she’d overheat from it. When he was done with her, she skipped to the gossipers to brag about dancing with the prince. Wulfric looked around for someone else. Lady Mariel Tveit was with Florian already, so he sought out the next noble. He spotted the tiny girl off in a corner again, her guardian Lord Dantès close by. Wulfric approached and bowed to her exactly how he’d been taught to do when asking a lady for a dance. [color=ab274f]“Would you care for a dance?”[/color] he asked politely, and offered her his hand. Among all the reactions he anticipated, the sheer dread etched on the girl’s face was not one. This wasn’t the timid nervousness of a maiden about to dance with royalty. Her fear was raw, similar to the terror visible in prisoners moments before their execution or the despair of a certain servant. Lady Dantès stared at Wulfric like her worst nightmare came to life. Desperate and wide-eyed, she looked for help from her guardian. When Wulfric followed her gaze, he met the warm, welcoming smile of the brunet. His eyes, almost black with hints of green in the right light, reminded Wulfric of the gentle demeanor of the horses Aiden tended to. With this lord, Wulfric didn’t feel belittled for his youth; he only looked down at Wulfric because of being taller, nothing more. Lord Dantès turned his attention to Lady Dantès, saying, “It is up to you, sunshine.” His tone lacked the coercive edge the other adults used to push their children to interact with the prince, truly allowing her the freedom to decide. The Dantèses exchanged a long, silent conversation with their eyes. Eventually, the girl steeled her resolve, and her deep brown gaze pierced Wulfric. She executed a proper curtsy but stood rigidly as if bracing for a duel rather than a dance. [color=DAF6C7]“It would be my honor, Your Royal Highness,”[/color] she said, though her body language suggested otherwise. [color=ab274f]“Alright,”[/color] Wulfric answered casually, though his smile had grown befuddled. He had no idea why the girl was so scared. Her guardian seemed to know, but Wulfric had never even met these people, hadn’t heard about them either. Who were they, to react like that? [color=ab274f]“If you’re sure.”[/color] He looked from the girl to the lord one more time. The lady, however, had clearly made up her mind, and accepted his hand. He led her onto the dance floor, and started with a very simple waltz. He couldn’t help but think that she might run away if she grew too scared. However, she was also watching him defiantly, as if trying to challenge him despite her fear. It was [i]weird[/i], so he asked outright, [color=ab274f]“What are you afraid of so much?”[/color] She was moving very stiffly, which made it for an extremely awkward dance, though Wulfric did what he could to make it less so. If they were dancing, then it should at least be a decent dance. The girl looked like she was about to deny it before simply admitting, [color=DAF6C7]“You.”[/color] Wulfric hadn’t expected that admission. He tilted his head, studying her some more. [color=ab274f]“Why?”[/color] he asked simply. Lady Dantès returned his scrutiny. [color=DAF6C7]“Do you care?”[/color] Wulfric gave her a look. [color=ab274f]“Yes,”[/color] he said firmly. [color=ab274f]“Why else would I ask?”[/color] Maybe this girl was a bit slow. [color=DAF6C7]“Promise you won’t get mad?”[/color] He considered that for a moment. He didn’t [i]think[/i] he would. The people who’d been afraid of him so far, he wasn’t mad at them, except if they wanted to hurt him. [color=ab274f]“I promise,”[/color] he said eventually. [color=DAF6C7]“Or tell your parents?”[/color] Wulfric sighed. Lady Dantès seemed to think this was some terribly important thing. [color=ab274f]“They wouldn’t [i]care[/i] about what some random little girl thinks – or says. They’d just tell me not to pay it any mind either. But fine. I won’t tell them.”[/color] Her eyebrows knitted together as she weighed the sincerity of his words. [color=DAF6C7]“You scare me,”[/color] she paused, biting her lip, then continued more boldly, [color=DAF6C7]“because you’re mean and fake. Just like your mother and father, and their parents.”[/color] [color=ab274f][i]“What?”[/i][/color] Wulfric burst out, immediately indignant. Then he remembered the promise, and sulked for a while. [color=ab274f]“What do you [i]mean?[/i]”[/color] he followed up when he felt less upset. He was still pouting though. Even though Wulfric was the wounded party, the girl had the gall to be upset by his outburst. A sense of mistrust permeated from her. He managed to rein in his anger, but he had somewhat violated his promise. She must be wondering if he was also a liar. Lady Dantès leaned in closer, determined to catch any lies. [color=DAF6C7]“You look nice and you talk nice, but it’s not real, is it?”[/color] She regarded the others in the ballroom. [color=DAF6C7]“You think you’re better than all of this,”[/color] she challenged. [color=ab274f]“You think it’s [i]fake[/i] when you try to be nice? Should everyone be rude and insulting [i]like you are?[/i]”[/color] He scowled down at her, frustrated. [color=ab274f]“You don’t know me, you don’t know my parents, and my grandparents are [i]dead[/i]. [i]You’re[/i] the liar.”[/color] She wanted honest? She’d get it. [color=ab274f]“[i]Everyone[/i] thinks I’m better.”[/color] He looked around the room. [color=ab274f]“Maybe not [i]Lars[/i],”[/color] he snorted. [color=ab274f]“You’re like [i]him[/i],”[/color] he accused, narrowing his eyes at her. [color=ab274f]“You’re just some stupid girl, and you’re jealous because [i]you[/i] want to be better.”[/color] The girl stared at him, bemused. Then suddenly a smirk spread across her face, and she let out a small laugh. It took a moment for Wulfric to realize his defensiveness caused it. [color=DAF6C7]“If that’s what you really think, then you’re stupid,”[/color] she retorted. [color=DAF6C7]“They don’t think ‘Wulfric’ is better than them. Nana said these kinds of people will kiss up to anyone they can use.”[/color] Images of the gift opening crossed his mind. [color=DAF6C7]“And they can use a ‘prince.’ You should learn how to tell the difference, Your Highness.”[/color] [color=ab274f]“So what? They can use me, I can use them,”[/color] he shrugged. Regardless of what Lady Dantès thought, he was better at it than others. And he’d get better still. Besides, many, [i]many[/i] people really did believe he was special. What did it matter if some were pretending? It’s just how it was. The look she gave him could only be described as pity. [color=DAF6C7]“It means you’re replaceable, dumb-dumb.”[/color] Lady Dantès sighed. [color=DAF6C7]“Kind of sad that the only way you can be nice is by faking it…”[/color] The way [i]he[/i] was watching [i]her[/i] now was as if he was studying a new lifeform. He’d been told about the idea of ‘the heir and the spare’ when Auguste was born - a bit before, actually. If he ever died before he could get to be king, then someone else was there to do it. That was so obvious he didn’t even bother saying anything about it. As for the other thing, it’s not as if the girl was kind either. When she spoke again, she didn’t look scared or wasn’t laughing anymore. She was getting bolder by the second. [color=DAF6C7]“You like hurting people. Lars is a bully, but at least he didn’t do what you did yet.”[/color] So this girl thought she knew something. He wondered how. Could she be guessing? [color=ab274f]“No, I don’t.”[/color] Well, maybe sometimes, he did. [color=ab274f]“What [i]did[/i] I do?”[/color] he challenged. His answer seemed to cement her opinion of him. [color=DAF6C7]“Hurt people so bad they’d rather die than live another second with you around.”[/color] [color=ab274f]“Is that what ‘they’ told you, too?”[/color] he wondered. This must be why she made him promise not to tell. Whoever ‘they’ were, they must be an enemy. [color=DAF6C7]“[i]They[/i] are the people who work for you.”[/color] She tilted her head to the side. [color=DAF6C7]“They know what you did to that man… what you like doing to others. But they’re scared because they know how mean you can be… But here you are pretending to be Prince Charming.”[/color] [color=ab274f]“Whatever. You’re just pretending to know something more. And you think you get to call other people liars,”[/color] he scoffed. It was good the song was ending, because he didn’t want to spend any more time with this girl if he could help it. The tiny girl lifted her chin to look down at him. [color=DAF6C7]“Are you talking to a mirror? It sounds like you’re talking about yourself.”[/color] As the music came to an end, she said, [color=DAF6C7]“I’m scared of you, because a mean prince will only be a mean king,”[/color] and left the dance floor without him.[/hider][/color] [b]TLDR for the flashback:[/b] Wulfric visits Javaria in Montague, attending Jonathan Bernard’s birthday party as the young lord celebrates reaching 8 years of age. One of the invitees is the mysterious Lady Dantès, a ward of the Lord Desmond Dantès. During the event, Wulfric dances with her once, but the two clash, as the 6-year old girl accuses him of being ‘mean’ and ‘fake’ despite also being clearly terrified of him.