Darelle

13

After his first quiet, solitary supper, Rumpel couldn't bring to change the white blouse and brown trousers, Asmo often tried out, saying he wanted a dozen of them.

The thought of Darelle filled his head for no reason at all with the changeling, his mind had taken turn to feel something better than the lonely pain he was used to.

He sat in his chair for what he believed to be hours that haunted him, coupled by the ticks and tocks of the round—grandfather's clock.

Good heavens, what was happening to him? he thought, preparing to head to bed. His days with the mortals was making him far too weak than he imagined. His heart tugged and had become attached when he promised not to. Those damn creatures had an allure that drawn attention. Must be their dominating blood.

He dismissed the princess from his thoughts and focused on himself. Some nights before he came out of the forest—his forest and home. He spent most nights occupied or quietly think of the people he left behind. In the end, the intimate details of his private life were his alone. Or now, known a small detail to some by one force or the other. The ragged peddler or the coven sisters. A mess he could never clean up and could thwart his plans. So far, they helped him, but he didn't trust them. Human, or foe.

Well, he wasn't always a brute force of terror unleashed against the humans. He was kind and he was gentle. However, when he left his original dwelling—the fae kingdom, his confidence in humanity had taken a harsh thrashing and had been beaten up to pulps as he found his way on the desolate streets of Mae.

During the two years he spent on the streets, he encountered nothing good and endured everything to get work, food and money. But the humans often cheated him unknown to him back then, or overworked him to leather.

With looks that could pass him as eleven years old and younger due to his smallish, and feminine build. The fae with age of more three humans—though a child in his world— combined, lived on the streets but his fortune turned. When he met madame Alejandra on the street in his attempt to run away from some men who accused him of theft from a local fruit seller. One would think a boy who knew how to spin gold out of straw would survive well, but the greedy men of the streets would beat him up for owning a dime, not talk less of a gold coin or even a bag of coins.

The witch cast him behind with his brown bag and paid off the men, who accused him of stealing an apple to their satisfaction. When earlier, a young girl had handed to him from her full basket because she saw how he licked his chapped lips at the sight of her deliciously red apples.

For some reason, he knew what the witch wanted and required of him, but he made his conviction and followed her. He had learnt the hard way that anything was better than the streets. His newly found friend took his blood and he accepted her generosity, and was adopted by her under the circumstance of her childlessness and recently deceased husband. Even though he learnt from her, she had killed that bastard of a husband, who knew no bounds in couples fights.

An intelligent and beautiful witch, his friend was and taught him all she could about the world he found himself in, even educating on the language of the human and several other like French. Helping him to gain his voice, instead of being a dumb little boy, and let him roam whenever he pleased.

When his plan to get this princess which was his payment—that collapsed on the found of his name. Alejandra wanted him to leave with her to another kingdom, but she didn't force him when he refused but rather with blessings let him found his path. A path was dark and beautifully cruel like she taught him, a perfect apprentice she always say, he was to evil.