little bluebird ( wmmap )

𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋 . 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒
★ 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋

The frigid cold of the night gripped his body, allowing harsh shivers to flow down his spine. The navy blue of the velvet sky looked pretty yet it held two sides— the frost that grew on the grass and the small boy's body was one of them. The stars twinkled on him, laughing and mocking him from above with their glowing warmth. The lunar moon glowed a soft silvery hue— shining softly on his swallow breathing and illuminating his paled, greying, skin.

No boy at the young age of four should live like him, with fear of not meeting the next sunrise or sunset. To know the feeling of death was crawling up his neck and grabbing him by force, yet here Achilles was, too cold to move on the frosty grass. They left him here overnight, perhaps they were hoping he'd finally die. Achilles groaned softly as he pushed his small body up, his arms shaking from his weight.

His legs hurt from the harsh bruises and everything was shaky. One thing that Achilles had noted in this life was the caretakers of his estate were worse, much worse. His beatings were more severe, Helena was a tyrant, the chef was crazed and everyone watched him with either slight guilt or even amusement. They were all sick, truly sick. Achilles swallowed thickly as he looked at the once-great manor— it was beautiful from the outside, with wonderful white bricks piecing it together and the roof titles a sapphire blue. The estate itself was gorgeous. The inside however was bitter. Not due to the design, no, due to the people.

Achilles wished he could run away now, yet he knew he had to wait until he was at least six to not die or be brought back. He'd be a bit better at magic to conceal his eyes and be able to run with agility. Now, as he gazed at the manor, he didn't want to go return. Just the thought of being in there again was making his knees tremble and his eyes water. The cold morning air was nipping at his skin as he bitterly stared at the manor. He shook his head, walking his small body away. Achilles would rather die again than go back there, he'd rather die hundreds of times than live again in this life.

Finally, his mind sighed cruelly and Achilles felt relief that his thought didn't mock his faults for once.

The blonde's outfit was dirty and wet with the melting frost— yet surprisingly didn't smell like bile. His breath did, the rotten taste of the pig meat would forever stain his mind.

Achilles finally stopped as he saw the flower bush where he used to sneak out to, plopping his small body down and curling his knees into his chest. Tears were still flooding down his small, empty cheeks as he shook.

No words spoken to others had left his lips since he cursed his so-called father. Bitterness seeped into his tongue as he thought about Claude, his eyebrows furrowed downwards in anger the more he thought about the Emperor. God, his blood pumped with venom as he remembered the all too calm yet almost surprised eyes as he died. They looked frozen when Achilles spoke to him for the first time. That image burned into his mind like a play he'd watched tens of times.

His eyes closed softly as he wrapped his arms around his legs, His outfit was simple, not one of a prince. Achilles wore a plain white blouse, a navy blazer, and slacks that covered his bruises— it wasn't enough to keep out the cold air. Usually, in this weather, Nobles boys prone to illness would wear thick fabrics and fur-lined coats. Achilles wore that of a lower-class civilian. No one worried for his safety nor health, no one even wanted him alive.

It would be better if... He thoughts grimly, but was cut off by his exhaustion.

A pair of cold eyes narrowed, his scowling growing as he saw 'it'. Felix followed his gaze, eyes shooting open at the small boy who looked more like a poor commoner than a prince. " Your highness?"

Claude ignored the tiny voice of his Knight of Crimson Blood, his body already making its way towards a spot he used to hide. It made Claude even angrier as he saw himself in the small boy. Lightly, the side of his foot hit the boy to jolt awake. Felix struggled to follow him, slowly catching up to see that act with alarm.

Achilles awoke with a startle, his wide jeweled eyes shooting up the antagonist— they further widen as he saw who was there. The blonde boy jumped up on his shaky steps, his eyes narrowing at the man who was called his father. It was obvious the man was looking down on him— may be contemplating whether to kill him or not. If Claude did, then Achilles wouldn't mind.

Felix however looked shocked at the sudden movement of the small boy— his eyes taking in the dirt on his face, the dried tears, matted blond hair, and accusing, narrowed jeweled eyes. Felix thought he was looking almost at an old, yet entirely different, memory of Claude. The red-haired knight could tell Claude felt the same based on his nostalgic eyes and frowning scowl.

" What is... this thing doing here." Disgust dripped like poison from the man's peach lips.

After four— almost five— years of not talking to someone, Achilles used his hoarse and dry voice. He was looking back at Claude with the same disgust and scowl. Like a two way mirror, yet only Achilles knew of the atrocities he'd witnessed " If you want, you can kill me"

It seemed like the two dropped out of the nostalgia, Felix's adams-apple jutted in shock, and Claude's watching eyes filled with curiosity. The small neglected boy's slurred speech was gritty and childlike, yet had an odd type of desperation in it- like he was all too serious.

The small boy cocked his head and stared into Claude's eyes as if the man was a wild bull.

   " You can, I don't care anymore."

Edited: May 12/22