❝ I can't save us ❞
in which the Foxling and the Codfather exchange
trades, looks, and blue orchids in a world of war,
death, and political alliances.
❝ my Atlantis ❞
( male!oc x solidarity )
( empires smp...
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FORGOTTEN ORCHIDS | CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SLEEP DID NOT COME EASY to the king of Vulpesterra, because that would be too easy for a ruler as troubled as he was. Atticus knew he was a well-liked king with people that he could lean on, but that didn't translate to being allowed to cling to those that gave him praise for his efforts. He was sure that even Jane must feel an obligation to care for him, since she had been doing so for his entire life.
He did not sleep, and nothing was alright.
When the moon reached its peak in the sky, Atticus knew that he had to leave the castle, if only for the sake of clearing his mind. He couldn't spend all his time inside, especially when his mind was spinning with insecure ideas that made it hard to think. Leon's words still rang clear in his mind—the definition of being a king. The word definition hurt more than anything else.
Atticus changed into common clothes, devoid of his royal signatures, and a simple black cloak. It was unlikely anyone would see him leaving the castle, never mind recognize him in the darkness of the night. But it was not a risk that he could take, being seen fleeing the castle as though on the run when he simply wanted to clear his mind. It would raise questions that Atticus didn't want to answer.
The halls were clear when he left his room. The staff had gone to sleep hours before, their jobs done once Atticus had refused to attend dinner, telling Jane he was too tired to go. He was relieved to be able to get to the gardens without so much as a glance in his direction, though the empty castle unnerved him. Such a big space should never be so empty.
The gardens had vines that reached the top of the walls, though they kept the plants confined inside the walls to prevent someone from sneaking in. Thorns lined the sides of the vines except for specific places that Atticus had memorized, making it easy for him to scale the wall without so much as a prick from a thorn. He landed on his feet outside the walls, keeping out of sight from the guards.
He felt like he was fifteen again, sneaking out of the castle when he wasn't supposed to. It was an old habit to break, but he hadn't snuck off in years. He hadn't needed to—he was the king! He didn't need to tiptoe now because the only one who would question him would be Jane. But he still hid in the shadows anyway, worried that he would be caught and dragged back to the castle.
At first, he walked. The fresh air was a pleasant change from the stuffy atmosphere of the palace; when he reached the center of the kingdom, he was surrounded by warm lights that lit a path for him to follow; the glow fought away the cold that was beginning to settle into his skin, causing his skin turn red from frostiness.
The farmlands came into view, the houses around him becoming few and far between.
The corruption was difficult to see even in the moonlight, blending into the ground. Atticus stuck to the road, keeping away from the red vines, unsure just how safe it was to be near. He knew he couldn't touch it, but he wasn't going to risk getting sick again, not like how he had. Jane still fretted over him when he slept in for too long.
