This was something new.
Cruel sunlight glaring through cracks in the poorly kept ceiling.
Blazing into his furious eyes and forcing him to close them and try to appear brave, knowing someone must be watching.
The ropes cut deeply into his wrists but his natural amour prevented wounds from appearing.
Still hurt like hell though.
The blood was all pooled in his shoulders since his arms were elevated, it felt like he was being stabbed by pins and needles everywhere.
He heard the clattering of footsteps passing his "chamber" so to speak.
Various shouts and orders could be heard, but he couldn't understand a word they spoke. Judging from the urgency in their voices it must be something big. It was for a split second that he wished his father and mother permitted him to study the Papillon language for occasions such as this.
He winced as he attempted to lean forward, hoping to make out at least one or two words amongst the wave of orders and instructions.
The blood had stopped flowing through his arms hours ago.
He let out a low growl as the loud marching grew distant and he hadn't succeeded in making out a single word.
Now he knew they're respective tongues didn't share the same roots.
Part of him hoped that the discourse was because his father had finally arrived to bring him home. There was no way the royal family would risk their only heir getting killed before his reign could even start.
Whatever argument had happened between his father and the Papillon king had nothing to do with him, this was a personal threat between the Papillon and the Oca. That was the only thing he knew for sure, because the Papillon weren't exactly in favor of kidnapping thirteen-year-old boys unless it was to draw someone out.
The fact that he was in no real danger brought some comfort to him, making it easier to provide a stiff upper lip to his captors.
He could no longer hear the clattering of armor and the barking orders from a language he couldn't comprehend.
His enhanced hearing couldn't even pick up the breathing of his guards.
Now if only he could feel his arms and find a way out of there.
Gently, he tried to move his wings to see if they were still awake.
The response was instant and he let out a pained shout as the blood quickly began to pulse through them.
It was going to take several minutes before they'd be strong enough to pull him against the chains.
He bit his lip to distract from the pain, he didn't want his father to find him in tears.
A disappointed glare was the last thing he could use at this moment.
He felt them begin to expand inch by inch and spread out, but he was too afraid of the pain to try and flap them. So he kept his gaze on the floor in front of him, counting out the seconds and deciding that in maybe ten minutes they'd be recovered enough to move.
Groaning as he kept losing count.
Wincing as that groan reverberated throughout his head and making something pound in his chest.
Waking his wings up was taking all of his energy.
Then, he heard the creaking of his door.
It was slow and only made the pounding worse.
He snarled and shot his head up to glare at his visitor. Hardened features softening when he saw it wasn't a foolish looking soldier coming to make fun of how hideous he looked compared to them.
No language barrier could prevent him from knowing when people were talking down on him.
Instead, at the door was a girl.
She stared at him in fear for a second, gripping on tightly to the doorknob. But a look of conviction came over her lovely face and she took a big step forward, closing the door behind her. Wincing at how loudly the sound of her slamming the door had turned out.
As the girl stepped into the scattered sunlight, he felt his breath hitch in his throat.
Her hair was shoulder length, shiny light blonde but as the sun shifted around her, he saw it gleam pink.
Her cheeks sported that same pink shine that only made her dark brown eyes pop out to him more.
Her clothes were loose and flowing, a staple of Papillon fashion due to their fragile wings. But he was able to recognize the sparkling white dress as something higher class. He knew this girl.
But only from pictures.
Pictures of the Papillon's royal family.
She was their youngest daughter, though he never cared enough to learn any of their names. Even less so now that the family had him chained in a back room of their palace.
As those glittering brown eyes fearlessly locked onto his and she walked toward him faster, he suddenly felt ashamed for being in her presence. She was perfectly beautiful. A regular jewel walking towards a pile of charcoal. He was ashamed that she looked at him without that underlying fear or disgust that he even saw in the eyes of the king himself.
She was not afraid of him.
Nor was she disgusted by him.
In fact, he'd say this strange young girl was looking on at him in…...in awe.
Of all things.
He found himself holding his breath the closer she got to him. Not sure if she deserved the slurs he had thrown at everyone else that had entered his room. Those eyes almost numbing his body once more, making him totally forget about the pain of reviving his wings.
Her lips were parted as she let out a soft gasp.
Eyes scanning his bindings.
Her voice was light and airy, gentle and floating through the air around them. It had him completely captivated.
"Je suis désolé…."
He almost choked on his own breath when her small and pale hand reached out and touched his forearm. The soft touch sent a wave of relief flowing into his tense arms. He felt as if he had been set on fire and the blaze was leaving a trail of….. of…. he didn't know what but it caused his wings to spring outwards, totally awake.
No stretched muscles or strained joints.
The girl had sprung back in shock at the dramatic reaction to her touch.
But, once again, she did not seem afraid of him.
It must have been some sort of healing spell she used on him. And a powerful one at that, which was impressive since she didn't look that much older than him.
She still looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, hands clasped in front of her. And he was absolutely shocked.
Why would the princess of the family that had initially kidnapped him be here in front of him?
Looking perfect and uncorrupted.
Now he definitely didn't feel worthy to have her before him.
Her perfection and lack of malice towards him only seemed to anger him, he sent her a low growl and the smile vanished from her face.
She spoke again and he wondered if the sound of her voice was always going to send chills up his body.
"Non- je ne suis pas là pour te blesser! Mon nom est Romane!"
He could tell she was over enunciating her words, as if that would help him understand a lick of what she said.
He growled at her again.
"I don't know what you're saying flightless."
She stared at him blankly, clearly in the same boat as him.
Even the guards recognized that familiar slur regarding their useless wings. But she seemed totally clueless. But to be fair he didn't know what any of the guards ever said back to him, probably something along the lines of how monstrous he looked at such a young age.
The girl took a couple steps forward and he felt his wings twitch, they must know she's the one that sent the blood flowing through them.
She then placed her hands on her chest and spoked again, a little louder.
Hoping pitch would help any.
It didn't.
"MON! NOM! EST! ROMANE!"
He flinched back and her eyes widened.
She jumped forward, speaking too fast for him to even discern if she was saying words or was opening her mouth and seeing what would come out.
"I can't understand you Butterwings…."
Butterwings seemed to silence her.
Her eyes widened, forcing him to look directly into them, and she blushed.
They stayed staring at each other for what must've been several minutes. Her blushing and him frowning. They weren't getting anywhere.
He didn't even know why this princess was in his presence to begin with.
If anything, he was in her presence.
Suddenly, the girl gasped and ran back, turning to the door and disappearing behind it.
Leaving him alone with the cruel sunlight.
His wings fell limp against his back and he felt his face heat up. Somehow her merely being in the room had kept them awake, alive. He pretended he had completely forgotten what it meant to keep wings alert on their own.
It had only been a few seconds before she returned, and he realized the room seemed to glow and the sun almost softened.
He didn't know if it was real or he was just so intoxicated by her that the room just morphed in his head. She was smiling again and his wings flitted without him telling them to, and she was holding something wrapped in white cloth. It only took him a second to get a whiff of just what it was.
Cheese, bread and nectar.
Easy things to sneak out of the kitchen.
She definitely was not supposed to be here.
And yet, here she was.
Unwrapping the bundle and sure enough, lifting up a small wedge of yellow cheese to his mouth.
He frowned.
Sure, he was really hungry and the overwhelming smell of the cheese was driving him crazy, but being hand fed like this by the Papillon princess seemed degrading.
Something he didn't need to add to his reputation.
It was really hard to resist her happy, dark oak eyes that were coaxing him to eat something.
But he managed to keep him mouth screwed shut, probably looking like a picky child. And it was possible that's what she thought he was being because she pulled the cheese away and took a small bite.
She then let out an exaggerated, "Mmmmm!" Trying to convince him to eat it.
Some part of him couldn't prevent a smile from coming out.
And he regretted it as soon as she saw it, her face freezing in shock.
He was always going to be hideous, he knew that and shouldn't have carelessly flashed his sharp teeth at this perfect angel.
But that frozen expression changed, not into disgust but total awe. The way she looked up at him you'd think she was watching the sun and the moon meeting on the horizon.
He wasn't worthy of that awe, it made his body droop under her gaze.
He turned his head to look away from her but she stepped forward, reaching up and resting her hand on his cheek, gently forcing him to look down at her again. "Tu as l'air beau…"
That haunting voice again.
Just above a whisper.
As if revealing a secret only he needed to know.
Her eyes were filled with that soft sunlight and he had no resistance to it. Hell, he doubted the whole of his father's army had a resistance for all that deep brown.
Her thumb rubbed his jaw a few times before she slowly pulled away and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling his wings go limp against his back. Then she went and picked up the cheese again, holding it next to his mouth again. Only this time his lips were parted and she spoke again, "Mangez l'ange…"
Damn that soft perfection was all he needed.
Taking a big bite of the cheese and swallowing it in seconds.
They did that for what felt like hours.
Sometimes she would dip the cheese in the little jar of nectar, only making it sweeter. She didn't stop feeding him until the cheese and bread were gone.
It was the only decent meal he had gotten in the 48 hours he had been there.
Fed to him by a mesmerizing angel from which he couldn't understand a word. Every thirteen-year-old's dream right?
Once he had finished, she gave him that same look of fondness then rested her hand on his cheek again. Gently caressing and stroking his jawline, the fond look turning apologetic. Upset that her family had resorted to chaining a young boy up in their unused back chamber. For the sake of feud, no less.
Eventually, she had to leave him alone once again.
But she did it slowly in every action.
Walking backwards so slowly he noticed the sun had begun to set around them.
And then all at once she was gone.
All at once he was alone with moonlight.
All at once the soldiers wearing that familiar crest belonging to his family burst into the room.
All at once he was in his sobbing mother's arms.
All at once the hatred for the Papillon reignited.
All at once he forgot everything about those hours with a princess.