EXPLODE

four

Days passed and I was infatuated with thoughts of running away. Again.

With new duties as the next Queen, Mel and mother spent more and more time away from home and instead at the castle.

Once the King and Queen reached the age of sixty, the new King and Queen would hold a coronation throughout the entire kingdom and then some other "special" guests. The King was six months from turning sixty, and the Queen was nine.

Of course, following the coronation a wedding would be held to the new King and Queen, as it was viewed that they had to be together. To think of my one rendezvous with Evan, and now my sister would be marrying him.

Desmond often spent time at home and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the time I shared with him. He actually gave a damn to what I said and thought, unlike Mel and my mother.

He was captivated by my views on the Third Faction and even agreed to find a way to get Gaby's family and her husband a vaccination.

That didn't mean I'd be calling him father anytime soon, and I honestly don't think he minded. We were more of acquaintances; friends even. Of course that meant I almost completely left his mind when Mel was around.

"So, Dawn, what are your plans as to living in the castle?" He asked, as we sat across from each other in the dining hall. The food was brought out to us on the rolling shaft, and today the cook made my favorite: turkey pretzel sandwiches.

"I don't know honestly." I comment. I grab my sandwich and chips, patiently awaiting the arrival of the carrots and ranch that complete the meal.

"Melody has already picked out her room. She said she was going to completely re-do the King and Queen's room to match her and Evan's accommodations," he tells me to which I scoff. Evan didn't seem like the kind of guy to care what color swatch went with the bed sheets.

"What if I just ran away? Joined the Rebellion?" I ask, and Desmond's eyebrows shoot straight up to his receding hairline.

"You mean like you did before? Just up and go? Be the one fighting force against your sister?" He asks, though he doesn't sound like he is accusing me. He sounded genuinely curious.

"Yes. I know if I asked around and went to the right people I could easily get into their headquarters," I tell him in between mouthfuls of food. If mom was here right now she'd be screaming at me at bad etiquette.

"Why are you so set on joining the Rebellion? Or even fighting for Third Faction rights for that matter? I was never able to understand." He tells me. He's picking at his sandwich, obviously not accommodated to the taste of pretzel as the bread.

"I just don't find it fair. I think we're treating the Third Faction like we treated African Americans in the Dark Ages. Maybe even worse," I say. No one has ever really asked why I fought for it, they simply just despised the idea. My eyebrows furrowed at my answer, as if I needed more explanation.

"Interesting."

"No one's ever asked me that," I pondered.

"I agree with you." Desmond announces and I immediately choke on my sandwich. Never has anyone asked me what my opinion was or why I thought that way, and now Desmond was agreeing with me.

"Really?" I cough, still trying to get the piece of pretzel that was lodged in my throat down to my stomach.

"That doesn't mean I'm joining the Rebellion, but," he looks me in the eyes, giving me a proud smile, "but I will help you defend the rights of the Third Faction. In fact--" he presses the intercom on the underside of the table that connects to the kitchen.