ASSASSIN 2~ 𝓗𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭

☆)✷The journey✷(☆

Quackity POV:

Their second journey began, and so, it seemed, did winter.

Out at sea the winds were always harsh, always cold, always wet. So it came as something of a surprise when they came back to land and found snow in the trees and ice on the ground.

Quackity had a strange feeling he'd been gone for months or years and come back to a changed world that had moved right on without him.

Of course, this wasn't so, and the slight awe at the pretty flakes of snow around them grew quickly tiresome as the trio began to travel through it.

The snow grew thick, and the air icy, however they trudged through the miserable weather with something of a good spirit.

Despite his efforts, hope was flickering in the king's chest like a small flame, being fanned as they got inevitably closer to the chance of getting Wilbur back.

Unfortunately, a fire was much harder to produce physically as they made camp that night.

Quackity was sat in the cold snow, trying to make it light. He'd never lit a fire before, but he supposed this was a learning experience. Not a very successful one, but one nonetheless. Perhaps he was learning that he should get someone else to do it.

Coincidentally, at that moment, Ranboo crouched down beside him.

"Here, let me try..." He muttered. Quackity opened his mouth to warn him that it was harder than it looked, but Ranboo discarded the flintstones and raised his palms to the wood. The young guard closed his eyes, murmuring something to himself, and then a tiny spark ignited somewhere deep in the pile of sticks and damp logs, spreading quickly along them into flame. For a second, the fire looked purple, before returning to its usual orange glow.

Quackity glanced at Ranboo, who seemed almost relieved to see the flame dance from his fingers, and the king wondered just how trained this boy actually was.

He had seen magic before, of course. Magicians used to come to the castle occasionally, to entertain at banquets or come to festivals in the town. They stopped coming after the war started.

Quackity realised he'd rarely ever seen real magic, outside of shows and circusry. Only few remained that practised the proper magic of old, and as it died out over the years, fewer were born with the gift to learn.

"Thanks." He nodded to Ranboo, who smiled gratefully.

"Of course, your majesty."

Quackity winced slightly. "You can call me Quackity, you know."

Ranboo nodded sheepishly. "Yes. Sorry."
Quackity had the feeling the boy was still not likely to start calling him by name, but he let it go.

He thought about how Wilbur would laugh at that. How he'd tease Quackity for being called any kind of majesty.

The king shook his head slightly, standing up and brushing his hands off. He couldn't help having these thoughts, even if he shouldn't. He couldn't stop hope.

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As they moved on, Quackity began to feel as though they weren't completely alone in the snow laced forest they travelled through.

He debated mentioning this to the others, but he figured it was probably just in his head. Even if it weren't, it could just be Wilbur's ghost tagging along again, and Niki and Ranboo wouldn't be able to sense it anyway. He still hadn't told them about the haunting, or the dreams. He'd volunteered to keep watch most nights, but he couldn't stay awake for ever and the other two wouldn't let him anyway, so he continued having the dreams every night. Except they were different now.