𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐒. empires smp (in progress)

𝐗𝐗𝐗. ALONE TIME

FORGOTTEN ORCHIDS   |   CHAPTER THIRTY

THE ERRAND BOY FROM MYTHLAND, Ran, stopped by in the morning with a letter from his king; Atticus sent him off with a bag of coins before tossing the letter in the trashcan beside his desk without a second thought, not caring that Ran saw the disposal.

To be completely accurate, Atticus felt that he should at least hear out an apology, even if any trust he'd had in King Sausage—which, really, was already so minuscule it was almost laughable—was completely gone and could not be regained. But every time he thought about Sausage, he thought about the Incident—the spiral he'd gone down with the remainder of his childhood, the panic he'd felt trapped in what was supposed to be his safe space.

It was quite obvious that Sausage didn't mean to make Atticus feel that way; if he had intended to make Atticus feel helpless, he would have taken advantage of the situation instead of running off the moment he realized Atticus was more than uncomfortable. But any thought sparred toward the Mythland ruler led Atticus back to that day, and then the panic began to build up again—so Atticus ignored it, as he ignored most of his overwhelming feelings these days.

The farmers needed new land to harvest due to the corruption, as the crops from Gilded Helianthus could only go so far. The parents in the kingdom needed help with formula and childcare. Ingrid needed a new Shadow, and Atticus still had to get things in order for the masquerade. He couldn't give even a second of his time to dissecting his own emotions about the Codfather, nevermind toward the panic and anxiety.

Atticus ran a hand down his face, sighing tiredly as he set down his quill. The farmers could use the land behind the castle; he could have spaces set up for them to live in temporarily until they could return to their homes. The parents would be delighted to receive formula drop-offs once a week, and Atticus was sure he could set up a daycare somewhere closer to the middle of the kingdom. Ingrid could have his new Shadow, on the grounds that he did a background check and was more strict about good behavior.

When Atticus looked outside, he noted that it was just past noon; he'd been stuck at his desk all day, eating lunch there in between reading paperwork and signing off on it.

It would be so easy to give himself a break. He was the king—who would question him for disappearing into his library, besides Jane? He'd already tended to his garden, he was ignoring Sausage's letters, and he had nothing to do. Maybe he could give himself some time to relax in what was apparently the only safe space in the castle.

At the same time, it would be strange to let himself off for the day. Even when he stopped by the Cod Empire, he was more likely to be doing paperwork while he and the Codfather ate lunch together than he was to be acting as a friend. The Codfather would probably tell him to take a break—he always did whenever Atticus visited, after all. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be around for the first time Atticus took that suggestion.

He decided to hide out in the castle's private library; Jane would know where to find him if he wasn't in his room or the garden, but everyone else would know to leave him alone. He hadn't managed to stop by for what felt like months, though Atticus wasn't sure if he was exaggerating or not. Time was beginning to blur together—just a few months ago, the thought of an alliance disgusted him. Now he was in one.

Despite his absence, the servants made sure to keep the space clean. Atticus settled beside the fireplace but didn't use it, not sure how long he was going to be in the library. Besides, he kept blankets in here and wasn't cold enough to resort to the warmth of fire yet.

Sleep tugged at his eyes. Atticus failed to hide a yawn as he grabbed a nearby book, not bothering to glance at the title as he settled on the couch, curled up under a navy blue blanket. He was sure it was a gift from someone, but he hardly remembered from whom or when he got it. It was one of the most comfortable blankets he owned, though; he almost wished he did remember so that he could request another one for his room.

The book in his hands was a hardcover; Atticus was sure it was history-based and certain it had been a gift from the Copper King, sent after Atticus' coronation. But his eyes barely focused on the words; his mind wandered without consideration for Atticus' wishes, because it knew what he truly wanted. He wanted to be in the Cod Empire, sitting in the Codfather's cabin as they discussed anything that came to mind; he wanted to sip tea as the Codfather rambled about the construction of the new church; he wanted to talk about Jane and Thomas' courtship with someone who had been on the receiving end of many of Atticus' rants about it.

He knew he was allowed to do that, of course—if he showed up in the Cod Empire now, the Codfather would be delighted. But despite what Sausage and fWhip would have the other rulers would believe, the Codfather was smart. If Atticus showed up without notice on the basis of wanting to 'hang out,' Atticus was certain the older man would catch on to his feelings. He was oblivious at times, not stupid—the anti-social ruler stopping by to sip tea by the fire with him would surely set off some alarm bells. That is, if he didn't suspect Atticus might like him already.

Atticus could only hope that Lizzie and Joel kept their promise, but he had no way to be sure.

Besides, bothering the Codfather was one of Atticus' least favorite activities. The Codfather would be too nice to say if Atticus dropped by at a bad time.

Atticus let out a slow exhale when he realized that he hadn't read a single word on the pages in front of him. He closed the book and set it on the coffee table without much thought before turning onto his back, looking at the low ceiling of what used to be a servant's quarters, but had been converted to a library far before Atticus was even born.

Boredom. It would be the death of him one day, he was sure. He didn't want to bother anyone to soothe the feeling, but at the same time wanted to talk to someone who wasn't his thoughts. He supposed he could always visit Lizzie again and get advice on his feelings for her brother, but the thought just wasn't appealing. She would tease him; if Joel was there, he would try to give Atticus another talk about accepting love and whatnot.

Atticus let out a long-suffering sigh. His body still ached from training a few days before and begged for him to get some proper rest; a few hours of not moving, letting his bruises heal. He could at least give himself that break if he was sure he wouldn't have a productive day.

Finally accepting the reality of the rest of his day, Atticus pulled the blanket further around himself, turning onto his side. He could nap until he felt motivated to continue his day, he decided.

Atticus, before the Codfather, never would have let himself have this moment of peace. Just a few months ago, the thought of giving himself a break for more than five minutes was a terrifying thought, because it meant he wasn't proving his place in the world. Now, he was taking a few hours to himself—a proper rest.

Atticus could very easily attribute the new behavior to the Codfather, the idea that he was allowed to be kind to himself.

Perhaps that was it. To convince the Codfather that he deserved unconditional kindness, Atticus had to show that same gentleness to himself first.