Axel groaned as he climbed the rocky pathway. His wounds weren't fully healed, but thanks to the medicine he'd been given, the pain was manageable.
He breathed heavily as he walked. He was tired, yes. But no matter what, he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop putting one foot in front of the other, as long as it took him far away from the palace. He. Would. Not. Stop.
"I'm sure the King has missed his true sons so much that he can't wait to see them. He even forgot he has another... extra... waiting for him."
Elsa's voice echoed in his head, and he let out another guttural groan, kicking the stone in front of him. His toe began to bleed, and he winced—not from the physical pain, but from the agony settling deep in his heart.
The hatred of others he could endure. Their bullying and gossip he could ignore. Their fake smiles and lashes he could cope with. But not the King's hatred. Not that. That was too much to bear.
"Why was I even born?! Why?!" he yelled into the emptiness.
"Every day of my life has been one sorrow after another. I didn't even get to see my mother's face. Yet, I didn't mind. Your love was enough, Father. I didn't care that I had no friends, because you were always there. When others called me a demon, when they labelled me a devil, you made me feel none of it. But—was it all a lie? Was it all fake?" he sobbed.
"Why?! Just why am I treated like this by everyone? Why does everyone hate me?" he cried out, his voice cracking.
"Not everyone," a tiny voice said.
He turned sharply, his eyes bloodshot. His expression darkened when he saw who it was. Fiona stood there, her hands folded behind her back, her lashes blinking prettily.
"What are you doing here?" he muttered, hastily wiping his wet face and cursing inwardly. She had seen him break down.
"Not everyone hates you, Axel," Fiona said, as if she hadn't heard his question. He stared at her, taken aback by her statement, but then burst into a short, sad laugh that died as quickly as it came.
"You don't know anything, do you?"
"Actually, I do. I know that not everyone hates you. At least, I don't," she said meekly. Another bitter laugh escaped him.
Was this girl serious?
"Are you delusional? Is that it?" he asked, his voice sharp.
Not everyone hates me? Really? Then since you know everything, you tell me! Why am I treated like a monster? Why do they beat me like a criminal? How could my own stepmother, the woman who cared for me since I was a baby, try to poison me? And why would my own father abandon me after all the trust I had in him? I don't even understand myself, so you tell me the reason I'm so different! Give me one good reason why everyone calls me a demon!"
Since you are so wise and know it all, give me the answers!" he yelled, his lips trembling.
"You're cold," she muttered, ignoring his outburst.
He sighed in exasperation.
"Do you want to come to my house? It's warm there," she smiled, stretching her hand towards his.
He hissed, recoiling from the gesture. The little smile on her face dwindled, but her hand remained outstretched.
"Leave," he muttered.
She stood rooted to the spot.
"I said, go. You don't know what you're doing to yourself. Leave this instant."
"I don't want to," she mumbled.
He scoffed. "If you don't leave, then I'll leave."
He took several steps, but she followed closely behind. He turned, ready to yell at her to buzz off, when a realization struck him.
He blinked, looking her up and down. "You aren't scared?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.
She shook her head. "Why would I be scared?"
"Didn't you hear everything I just said? I am—"
"A demon?" she finished, pouting. "I've never seen a demon before. I didn't know they were so cute." She giggled, and he rubbed his palm over his face in disbelief.
"You're crazy," he grumbled, and continued walking. Still, she didn't stop following him. After a few minutes, he grew tired of it and paused abruptly. She stopped as well, feigning interest in the scenery.
"Why are you following me? Don't you have parents who will be worried? Go find them and stop acting like a pest," he said, irritation lacing his words.
She pursed her lips. "Dad's not home. He hasn't returned yet. It was dark, and I was scared, so I decided to take a short walk. That's when I saw you."
"You left the house all by yourself at this hour?" he questioned, arching a brow.
She mirrored his expression. He wasn't in a position to scold her. "You aren't really in a position to scold me," she muttered.
He scoffed, a flicker of amusement breaking through his gloom. "You're scared of the dark, but you're not scared of me?"
"Why would I be? There are no horns on your head, are there?" she chuckled.
They walked together in silence after that. This time, Axel let her be.
"Do you remember me?" she asked after a while.
He looked away. Of course he remembered her. She was the girl he had kissed in front of everyone. "No, I don't," he answered.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
She twitched her lips. He really didn't remember? "I was the one you—" she paused, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.
"You were the one I, what?" he asked, struggling to hold back a laugh. She looked like a ripe tomato as she averted her gaze.
"Never mind," she muttered. "Where are you going, by the way?"
He sighed. "So now you ask? You've been following me for minutes without a thought to the destination," he said, surprised.
"Well, this is also the way to my house, so I thought we were going there," she said.
He took a deep breath. He had planned to be alone to ponder his life, but this little... this girl was getting on his nerves and ruining his plans. He decided he would just follow her to her house; surely then she would stop acting like a leech.
"Fine. Let's go to your house," he said, a hint of anger still in his voice. Fiona, however, seemed either not to notice or to simply ignore it.
"Let's go then," she said, a fresh giggle escaping her as she led the way.