Knight In Sheep's Clothing

Knight in sheep's clothing

Archive #20 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's Note: this is sequel to the post from yesterday! hope you enjoy like @v-for-venus did :)

Knight in sheep's clothing

--------------------------------------------------------

Night of the ball, the one day that has been long awaited for by me as a child. The warm lights showering down upon those who are dancing and laughing. Groups of smartly dressed couples and nobles laughing and talking while holding glasses of champagne. Gowns of all colour-- velvet material that feels like silk when touched. Curls and pearls, bow ties and shoulder pads.

So why, in Lord’s name, am I dreading this evening?

Perhaps, it’s because I have been shooting down the idea of meeting princes there. Princes- not prince. The meeting obviously didn’t go well, I managed to convince that the lowly, egotistical, greedy man wasn’t good enough for the daughter of the Northern kingdom. Of course, in the back of my throbbing mind-- a perfect man came up as a suggestion instead. They are absolutely no man, though.

They are my prince, my perfect angel. My knight in shining armour.

But alas, who am I kidding? I could never inform my parents that I’ve fallen in love with someone that wasn’t even a nobleman. Which is why, the ball’s date was moved forward with more urgency. I must admit, I was excited to have been able to pick out my gown. Pink with diamond stars climbing their way up to the waistline, puffy with lace and silk-- ribbons tightening the package, to be sent off as a pretty present to a prince that I will never love. This present doesn’t belong to anyone’s hand, but I am willing to be unwrapped by a certain curly-haired swordsperson.

I should probably get dressed. If it was up to my maids, they would have been fussing over me-- but I’ve sent them on a wild goose chase. “But alas, I cannot even begin to change! How could I, if I can’t be in the very presence of my family’s heirloom? It’s plated with emeralds and sapphire, gold and white gold that can shine through any evil-- my mother said I should wear it to the ball! But it’s not here! You must fetch it, otherwise I will not even look at my gown or shoes.”

The panic on their face is still lingering in the back of my mind, making me smile away the frown. Demanding orders in such a commanding manner, queen material-- am I wrong? But if I have to marry in order to rule my own kingdom, then the royal blood is not for me. Even if my future spouse may be in the crowd at the ball, face covered with a mask, hidden from my judgmental eyes. I will not tolerate anyone that isn’t my true love.

Where would they be now, right this moment? Would they be on patrol? Would they be on their steed, ready to gallop into the night if I had asked?

…It seems that I have made up my mind. Ignoring my gown, I rip myself out of the “princess” dress I was currently in. Knocking over the tower of useless gifts, I swing open my closet door to ponder on what dress is best fit. I ought to impress her, they would be in shock if I were to ask them to leave with me with no such plan. Perhaps…

I’m taking too long.

I grab at the dress that has been calling out to me, while it might not be the best in terms of decency. It would be enough to distract my knight over the more obvious of things. Perhaps, it might be best to change undergarments as well, to further match the motive I am trying to get across. Annoyed by the fact that only the princes got the dress code of wearing a mask, the literal princess did not get such a dress code that matched the theme. Who planned this ball, anyway?

I need to cover my identity… My eyes tinkle at the moonlight, shining down at the rough fabric of a cloak. The cloak-- ivy green with the visual of the dark forestry from my window, had lace stitched onto the hooded area. The handwork, of course-- by my very own lover. This is perfect.

Well, I did not know what I expected.

If they were on patrol, of course other knights would be, too. You idiot! I’m cornered, I managed to circle back to the one place I did not want to go. The ball was being held in the glass houses, mainly the largest glass house. Its purpose is solely for dancing and parties, so the glass house was designed for much so. Everyone would be able to see me if I were to approach too close, but here I am-- being surrounded by knights as my back is pressed against the entrance of the ball.

“Halt! Now that you are cornered, reveal yourself!”

I swallowed hard, gritting my teeth as I was unable to see the faces of my knights as the hood did well in hiding my dignity.

“My my, I don’t think that’s how you ask a lady to show her skin now, is it?”

Smirking, I only wish to see their stunned faces. But what now, your royal majesty? You don’t need to see far to know that their footsteps are coming closer, probably pointing their spears and swords at you with much caution. What now?!

“What is the meaning of this?”

A different voice? Much mellow, yet strong in tone? I find my balance in my legs once more just before the doors open to the gates of my hell. I am greeted by someone standing next to me, though who? I can only imagine.

“My Sire, this foreign woman was seen on the grounds of her majesty the princess! We were only concerned for her safety as she might pose a threat.”

I take a step away from the stranger, only afraid of what they might do or say. He must be a prince or noble, with his confrontation, he just took a massive step forward in the game of winning the princess. I must leave before this falls deeper into chaos.

“Is that so? Well, then I must escort this lady off the grounds. I’m sure someone such as her would be too fragile to do any harm to the princess.”

Angered by his words, I didn’t stop myself in time and shot back.

“Instead of being all high and mighty, my good ol’ gentleman, how about worrying your own game? Don’t you have her highness to win over?”

He takes a step towards me, breaking the distance that I tried to create. He leans down and holds out his gloved hand.

“Oh don’t worry. I’ve already won over the princess.”

Wait a tick, this voice-

“Please step away from the threat, my good sire. Let us handle this.”

“Enough!” I saw the opening as soon as the stranger entered the situation, and as soon as the knights let their guard down I ran for my life. Heels clicking at the stoned pathway, I hear the racket of metal behind me as I looked up to the starry sky. I laughed as I was catching out of breath, I am so close to the gate, so close to freedom. They would know where to find me, there is only really one place I can go-- the big oak tree, where we had our first kiss.

They will find me there.

But what I did not expect was one of the knights going as far as aiming an arrow. It struck the end of my dress, causing me to fall and brace for impact. I close my eyes in defeat. This is it, I’ve failed. How could I be so foolish, is it so foolish to want to love and rule freely?

I reopen my eyes in shock. The feeling of silk on my hands, the feeling of warmth cupped my face, the feeling of a sword next to my shoulder. Someone had caught me when I fell. And I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“So it was you, you sly knight.”

You chuckled, heart beating like wildfire crackling on dry log against my ear.

“I wanted to impress you by playing as a noble, but apparently you rather played the rebel role.”

I clutched my fist into your sleeve, the smell of your cologne filled my head with love clouds and milkweed.

“Save me, oh knight~ oh my noble, they out to catch me for I am a rebel.”

You lift your sword slightly, while still embracing me.

“Right away, my princess.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Pinewood

Archive #22 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's note: short one this one, but hope you enjoy!

Pinewood

---

We are nothing at all.

...

...

But,

I would still answer your call, Even if it was in the middle of the night, 10 past five in the morning, And you're in trouble.

I would drop the world that I cup in my hands to save you from the dark. But when I'm alone and it gets cold, And I asked you for matches, You don't even lend me one.

You say that my cheeks are red so I must be warm, But I'm sick of bleeding to stain their appearance.

If I was the last tree standing in a snowy embrace of forever winter, Would you still chop me down even if I provided you with shelter?

You're cold, you complain; I'm tired, I don't say.

Even as a strong tree, I will never get to see the day where my leaves welt, and my trunk's spirals are too many to count. For my roots will stay clinging to the soil,

While my branches' ashes are coughed out

From your lungs into the cold,

Still air.

Snow Cones

Perfection meets Perfectionist #5 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's note: this one is definitely heavy. and VERY taken out of context, it is a continuation of the current storyplot, but just very well ahead into the story. enjoy!

Snow Cones

----------------------

It was 2 am, when I heard you scream.

I could tell that it was from the top of your lungs. As if all the rage and frustration finally let itself free from years of resentment.

My body shook to the core, the feeling of my hairs standing up at the back of my neck made my blood turn cold. I was beyond afraid, but the thought of you in danger wasn't the only thing that came across my mind. There was a hint of insanity in your shriek, the echo afterwards screamed "revenge". Legs shaking, weak to the bone-- it took a lot to get me to move.

Will I be able to save you? Was the question. Will I be able to stop you? Was the answer.

If you continuously smash against a mirror, cracking it to pieces… at what point, do you stop? At what point, do you apologise and mend your wounds? If all the reflections were painted red, what's the difference in living now than being in hell? Your hatred can be smelt miles away. The crunching noise of your shoes under sharded glass as you kick and fling your arms to the ground with rage. The odd placements of hair was soaking under the blood that poured from your scraped skin. The skin on your arms was like a cracked mirror, in sections of shards threatening to break off completely. You yelled as you flung yourself on your knees, your eyes squinted as you winced at the cuts and impalement-- but still determined and blinded as you throw your hands up to the heavens. You looked down before you, at the frame of which held a quarter worth of what was left from destruction, hands clenching to one big, tight fist.

If a prayer wasn't suppose to be passive, this was the best demonstration I have ever seen. I could barely move. You were in a completely different world, and it felt as if I was just watching through a window, like some sort of sick movie. Do I have to smash through windows to reach you, too? I try to take a step forward, fighting with my voice as I briefly let out a peep of sound. Nothing was heard from you, I bet not even the sound of your heart banging on your rib cage could be acknowledged by you. Will I be able to stop you? The answer was also a question.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, as you let your fist ride the heavens down to earth, gaining purposeful speed as you opened your eyes. The crashing sound of flesh and bone against glass was sickening, like listening to a bone saw cutting through someone's skull. There was a moment of silence. Where you stayed still. It appeared that you were enjoying the quiet, or perhaps, the sound of more blood gushing out of yourself.

It was the perfect time for me to move.

But how can I? When I have been watching this whole time? How could I find the audacity to save you now, when I couldn't even stop you?

Then there was a sound. Not a very loud one, but it grew in intensity as you threw your head back to the starry night. You laughed as bloody tears poured down your face, as a pool of your own blood surrounded you like a ritual circle. You laughed even when your voice cracked, you laughed even when you saw me. What was the look you gave me as you laughed at my face?

"Pathetic."

You eventually stop laughing. Your face turns cold as you continue to stare at me.

"Leave, February." I step a step back on instinct, the shock of your seemingly normal voice made my finger tips feel like ice. "I said go." I look with desperation in your eyes, they appear… normal. Have you realised I was here the whole time? Just… watching? Words finally escape my throat. "Etta, please-".

"I said leave, February. You saved me once, and I am thankful. But you can't save me for the second time, so just let me go."

I love you. And for the longest time I did not know whether it was platonic… or, something more. The conflict of the choices-- legally, I can't just let you be. But in terms of bonds, this is probably aligned for us at the get-go. The feeling I felt when I was around you, like I was able to help-- like I made a difference in your life and you felt the difference. If the effort and time I spent was really worth it, then how come it all came down to this? Haven't I given enough? All this time, when I thought I was being selfless-- have I truly been selfish?

"Etta, look… I. I don't know how to convince you to let me stay by your side. H-however, I do know that we're in our twenties. We're p-proper adults! We can make heart shaped pizzas around this time of night when we have watched too many movies, or eat snow cones earlier than we usually do-- or buy all the available awful muffins you like at the cafe. We can go climb snowy mountains or attempt to find Atlantis. We're not 17 anymore, we can do anything we want by our comfort levels…. a-and, I can't do all of this if you bleed out slowly, in the front of the abandoned building behind our apartment complex. I cannot fix you. But I can convince you to do it yourself."

I have managed to walk slowly towards you while I blurted out sentences from the back of my mind. My eyes hovering above yours as tears drop down to meet yours on your bloody cheeks.

"Just let me in that big broken mind of yours, and I promise it will get better." I cup their cheek slightly, determined and shaking. You close your eyes for a moment, eyelashes fluttering from my breath blowing onto your face. My heart pounds in my chest as I nervously survived through the long silence. The longer, the better. I swore I heard sirens in the distance approaching, though it is too soon for that just yet. I called as soon as you left my apartment, because the deranged look in your eyes made me think of death himself. I just need to stall as long as possible. I may not be able to stop you, but I can still answer a question whose answer is also a question.

"Alright." Your eyes met mine once more. The look behind your eyes was good enough for me to stand back and sigh with relief. I turn around for a second, avoiding to grit my teeth in front of you as I fought back tears. I may be selfish, but it is love's doing. I heard scraping noises behind me, in which made me smile because it sounds like you were slowly standing up. One baby step at a time, darl.

"You know how we always have snow cones on your birthday?"

I turn around as I hummed my answer, in which I forcefully stop as I gasp in horror. You have scraped all the small broken glass from the concrete, and cupped it in your sore hands levelled to your mouth.

"Looks like your birthday has come sooner than expected."

...why must it be a prince?

Archive #19 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's Note: holy shit?? It's been a while since we have seen an archive. This one is a small short that I wrote for @v-for-venus, so hope y'all enjoy!

....why must it be a prince?

-------------------------------------------------------

"My princess!"

A second set of foot steps echoed through the empty corridor. I stop in my tracks, glass heels clicking against each other. I close my eyes for a second, forcing myself to not turn around. Taking in a breath, I click my tongue as I shot back.

"You address me as 'Your Highness', Knight."

The footsteps halted, the slight creaking of iron was the only thing heard for a couple of seconds. I tried my best to not fidget with my hands, as it was "very unlady-like" according to other kingdoms. I couldn't deal with this right now. Why aren't they saying anything? I need to go to the meeting roo--

"So, is that what you want me to call you in bed, Your Hig-" "Enough!"

I turned around, glaring at the smirking knight. Their soft curly hair, their soft lips, their smooth skin, their beautiful eyes-- stop with the distractions. It was getting hard to ignore the rapid heartbeats I was experiencing, the blood rushing into my head making me slightly dizzy as I force myself to not give in.

"I don't have time for this, I am your Queen now, which means you're not my personal knight anymore. I don't need to associate with you all the time." "But you want to, no?"

Irritated, jealous of their boldness in such a situation-- why must they make this difficult? I walk up to them, heels swift and arm reaching out to grab at the scarf I had made them not so long ago. Thumb pressing against their cute chin while I look down at their kneeling state. Why am I so ticked off, anyway? I have always been told from ever since I could remember that I will get the prince of my dreams, and yet… I don't want to go to the meeting. The meeting is suppose to be the most important cue in my current royal life, I will be introduced to the 'love of my life', and yet…

"Listen to your heart, Princess."

I sigh, my face softens as I realise what my destiny has truly lead me to. I cannot fight it forever.

I look into their eyes, the ones I love waking up to in secrecy. My lips open in a strained relief.

"….You're my prince, the love of my life."

Widdiful God

Archive #26 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's note: this one is structured differently again! Hope you enjoy <3

Widdiful God

----------------------

Careless, I produced a creation of immorality that will suffer.

The kind that could be bodied by water, fluid but firm as it forms from the bits of the deep. Reverence is not necessary when accidents linger at the callouses like finger tips brushing by. The balance between satisfaction and impotent frustration is like someone glued to pick at their skin. The protective barrier against the world from their insides, how essence would destroy something meant to rot like a short-lived flower.

Imperfection does little to ease, nevertheless I'm not bothered by such.

What a pitiful romancer, lies like liquid gold that cannot be kept inside hearts. If bodies were a vessel, would we attempt to pour such dignitary metals down our throat? Cauterized to boiled red and brittle ash would not provoke an unheeding egocentric demiurge. Alas, the hope I seek to be content with mere attainment is inevitably a fiasco. Meagre creation? Don't make me laugh. An imposter with comparable flesh and bone could withdraw your assiduous remarks.

Amaranthine that I have arise is neither human nor being-- but a perception of my own feelings galvanized by lamentable evocation.

Impetuous upon the beginning, resolute by the void of time. Shall I hold my sentiments as my child self for eternity is certainly the supposed plan. To betray myself for the heavens of promises will encourage me to imperil.

I swallow as I sing, I drown as I sleep.

Bedroom Creature

Archive #24 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's Note: coincidentally, this piece reminds me of this song:

Maybe I am their secret ghost writer (I am kidding). Enjoy!

Bedroom Creature

-------------------------

I am one with my room.

I pace back and forth Below my dream catcher and sketches, Picturing a life where I am never bored. Bored? Bored, the thought echoes. I'm tired of wasting Time and embracing My thoughts when I have things to do.

The red string from my Christmas Hangs above my yarn and needles. Humming and refracting; Spending too much time thinking. I contemplate the world's actions Whilst it ignores my pleas.

I can sing and dance but If it takes one person to drag me back down, I would rather it being my future self Than someone who would drain My pouring faucet heart.

An endless supply of care and need, Drank and left empty; A desert in my awakening. I am gullible, For I am in need.

Stuff my insides with stuffing, Zip my mouth shut under my trophies. My glass eyes amongst my soft toys, Left pickering over nothing.

Papers and memories scattered on my floor, If I dwell too long lying face down then I shall be One with dead strands of hair on carpet.

Does art scare you? Abstract or realism? I am left to ponder whether whose who hate different Are different and just don't know how to Paint themselves black and white.

A person is a person until they can't be; Art can be anything even when it can't be. Hence the squiggly lines on maths papers. How innocent yet invasive, Squiggly lines did nothing wrong. We draw squiggly lines all the time- I imagine for the chaos in my brain to be drawn this way.

Black, White, Blue, Green, Purple.

My inner thoughts and rants are not just static, But I wish for it to be splashes of crashing colours. I don't intend to sort and organise My papers into folders Because my room is already one.

I stand beneath my decorated room, Oftentimes I cough and whine, Wondering when I will ever leave this room To be the art I am meant to be whilst a desert in an empty, Thirsty Sea.