The Lonely Ones

Chapter Eleven: The House on the Hill

The next morning, a burden like no other smothers Artemis. He wakes feeling heavy as iron blocks. Rather than eat breakfast, he dresses swiftly to head for the woods. The sled creaks behind him, jostling from the unforgiving speed. Artemis moves faster and faster through the trees until he reaches the chilly breeze of the white tree. The cavern below awaits and, with it, his lonely prince.

Artemis hops into the snow that kicks up in spurts around his shoes. The poppies sway when he struts by to relax among the roots, then rest upon them.

"Maggie said she likes me. I turned her down," he whispers.

Why does it sound like that unsettles you? the prince wonders irritably.

"I asked if we could remain friends, but she needs time," Artemis mumbles, admiring the crystals overhead. He tilts his head, puzzled by the ice he knows so well. Are some missing?

"I wish I could have returned her feelings," he adds, confusing the prince. And perhaps there's another feeling, one the prince can't reasonably explain. It's odd, like scorching needles prodding his chest, threatening to pierce skin and burn within.

"If I had, life would be easier," Artemis claims, thinking of Maggie's confession and the life they could have led.

While Artemis' childhood has been less than ideal, that has never stopped him from desiring marriage or children. Both almost felt like fairy tales, something he could never achieve, especially considering his brewing hatred towards his own interests. And it made him want a family even more; people to come home to after a long, horrid day. Someone to kiss away his fears and worries. Children to love so fiercely they'd never question their father's affections. He could have had that with Maggie, couldn't he? Even if it was a little fake, a tiny lie for a wonderful life.

"Maybe we could have been happy," he mumbles.

Happy lies lead to horrible truths. I'll never comprehend mortals and their obsession for easier. Does this pertain to your brief lives? You wish for easy, for complacent, for laziness to make up for minimal years. But does that not waste away your years? the prince wonders, and perhaps conjures a spell to cast upon this Maggie, who dared to approach his knight. Had he been awake, he may have paid her a nightly visit to haunt her dreams until death.

"Maybe not happy... she does not realize it now, but this is the best-case scenario for her," Artemis claims, sitting up. He sighs. "The villagers would shun her, the girl dim-witted enough to court the cursed hunter. She'd live her life as an outcast and our children would too, if we had any."

He looks upon the prince, marveling at the somber light cascading from the frozen coffin. Tracing his finger along the edge, he whispers, "It seems we are both destined to be alone, but we have each other, which is an odd thought."

Very odd, indeed.

Artemis changes the subject; "The circus returns soon. All the ruckus will keep Maggie occupied, and me for that matter."

The prince does not like the circus, although he has never seen it. But when it comes to town, Artemis' visits lessen. The prince grows restless and petulant when there is no one to drag him from the infinite dark.

As expected, Artemis doesn't stay much longer, to the immense indignation and slight vexation of the prince. There is work to be done for the incoming circus. They will purchase a hefty amount of meat and furs for the journey along the Jolly Road. Artemis has been working for months already to prepare, but every year the circus gets bigger. There's no telling how many will saunter into his shop with requests for boxes upon boxes of food and furs.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

Three days after Maggie's confession, the circus arrives. They enter Eidenswill in a blurry of color and song. Thin ladies on nimble feet, swathed in gauzy pink and purple garments, dance atop thin bars hoisted in the air by burly men. A stranger colored in radiant gold balances on a rolling ball, beaming and waving to children, who follow him and trip over their own feet. A woman tosses knives high into the air, catching each before setting them aflame with a breath. The crowd following gasps in wonder. Even Artemis observes the eccentricity from the window of his shop.