Welcome to Behind the Mask. This story was initiated by FableLUVA584, whom decided that he wanted to have my OC, Mint, appear in a Fable story for Mint's 'world wide journey'. He let me go crazy with the plot, much to my surprise, and for that I am thankful.
Have a good time dear readers. Enjoy the ride.
Freedom, is a strange thing. You can think you have it, have as much freedom as you please, while you're unknowingly trapped as the person you are, or once were.
.
Jack took off his mask, throwing it frustratedly at the scarlet wall across the room. Sighing, he ran a tired hand through his pitch black hair. Everything was just pissing him off so much at the moment.
The Heroes, the Court, the Void, everything. He had been so troubled the past three days, he wasn't acting like the proud, unbeatable Jack of Blades at all. He didn't know why, but he was actually questioning his own actions, his own thoughts.
Jack frowned, suddenly hating the smell of blood coating him. He inwardly cursed his quickly changing attitudes. There were times when all he wanted was to drown the world in black, and watch blood flood the streets. And sometimes he hated the man, the Jack of Blades, for being so inhumanly cruel. He wasn't human by any means, but at the moment, that wasn't the point. Jack sighed again, wanting to leave his castle, leave this place and erase his very existence. Just, be anywhere but here. And not as the Jack of Blades.
The name brought bile to his throat.
Jack tore his clothes off, wanting to rid himself of the horrid stench of blood. He threw them across the room angrily, watching as they were consumed by fire. He put on a simple pair of black trousers after a short shower, leaving his muscular chest bare. Black locks were brushed by the cooling wind as Jack stepped out onto his balcony, enjoying the full moon shining down on him. The light made his skin glow a lovely pale color, even as his insides flipped upside down in turmoil.
Why did he start all of this again? Why did he need to see blood shed every time he turned around? What good was this doing? Why did he want it?
The questions kept pouring out, more and more that he had no answers to. He didn't know why this was happening to him. Why did he suddenly feel this way? Just a few days ago he had been perfectly content with watching people die, watching their blood flow around his boots. Jack closed his eyes, trying to keep the rage bubbling inside his chest from exploding in what he was sure would be the end of his beautiful castle. He slowly walked back inside, eyeing the other two masks on his bed that seemed to watch him.
Mocking him.
He picked one up, the Queen, impossible to please. He threw it at the wall, almost hoping it would shatter. He slowly picked the other Court members mask up. The Knight, proud, and more arrogant than Jack would have liked.
That mask followed the other two, thudding against the wall with such force you would think they'd break.
Jack didn't even like them much, too noisy, irritating. They were arrogant, stuck up, snotty, little... He glared at the wall with the intensity of the sun, willing it to give him more insults he could use against his fellow members of the Court.
The Court. Jack snorted. What was the Court's purpose? To end the world, so they would have no where else to destroy? Ridiculous.
It just seemed so pointless. So suddenly. He cursed at himself. 'You're pathetic. You're acting like a disgusting human. Bumbling about a damn conscience.'
Jack rubbed his golden eyes, feeling tired and worn. Rest sounded very appealing to him right now, and the black haired man made his way into his large bed, resting his head against the soft white pillows.
Despite the hell going on inside him, he slowly drifted off to sleep.
In what seemed like moments to Jack, a soft tapping sound on his door woke him. He slowly opened his golden eyes, wincing as the sunlight shone through the windows, right into them. Somehow throughout the night, the covers had been kicked halfway off of his bed, and a pillow was lying across the room, beside the three masks and his clothes- Oh! I mean ashes. Now how the hell his bed items got all the way over there, he didn't currently know. But he was sure that the author would eventually make it known. "You wish."
It was about then that he remembered that someone was knocking on the door.
"What?" Jack called out grumpily.
"Y-your breakfast, sir." A maid squeaked from behind the door.
"Leave it, I'll get it later." Jack grumbled, snuggling his face back into the pillow.
"Yes sir." The maid said quietly, her light footsteps retreating from the door. Jack sighed and glared into the darkness of his pillow, knowing he wouldn't be getting back to sleep now that the soon to be dead maid had woken him.
"damn." he whispered to himself.
The more he thought about it, the more food sounded nice, depending on whether or not he wanted to get out of his warm bed of course. Golden eyes turned to slits as Jack frowned and contemplated catching his mask on fire, just to relieve a little stress. The likeliness that it would burn were low anyway, just might make him feel a little better. Jack lay there sprawled out across his bed, thinking about whether to eat, get dressed, stay in bed, or incinerate something. He finally decided to eat, incinerating his dresser on the way.
He sat back on his bed, picking off tiny bites of the warm bread, just out of the oven no doubt, and watching the flames dance. Jack watched the fire consume the wardrobe as he took a drink of the milk the maid had so kindly given him. Jack blinked, lips pursing against the cool glass as he realized his clothes were in the dresser... clothes that he needed... because he was half naked. Jack spit some of the milk out in surprise, choking on the white liquid that found it so funny to hurtle its way down his throat.
Soon enough the fire was out, and he was saving what clothes hadn't been burnt from the now black dresser while cursing like a filthy sailor for forgetting something so simple. After picking decent clothing to wear for the day, he left the wardrobe for the maids to clean up and retrieved his three masks from the corner. Clasping the two masks to his chest, he made sure to put the one that specifically belonged to him on his face. The Jack of Blades ground his teeth, remembering the incident that happened not even a month ago. People looked at him and screamed bloody murder, he didn't even have to touch them. It was a couple hours later that he realized he had put on the Queen's mask. A stupid, simple minded mistake. A very unJack-like mistake.
Jack made his way through the halls of his castle, ignoring the maids and guards that bowed as he quietly walked past them. Thoughts of the Queen danced through his mind and he shuddered, remembering the brown haired woman's... unique, way of punishing you for accidentally catching one of her favorite cloaks on fire. Jack breathed in the crisp morning air as he walked out to the training grounds, stretching his shoulders. He hoped that a little swordplay would help ease his conscience and make it disappear like the annoyance it was.
The Void resider unsheathed the sword at his hip and summoned some minions to play with, smiling wickedly underneath his purple and red mask. Once summoned, the minions looked at each other fearfully, seeing who it was they were supposed to battle. With small nods and gestures, they dared one another to go and take the first move. Eventually one clothed in blue and equipped with a spiral staff came at him, swinging wildly. Within ten minutes every last minion had vanished, not a trace remaining.
Jack clenched the Sword of Aeons. The empty spot in his chest wasn't filling up, it almost felt as though it was worse, as if someone had stabbed him through. Fury flooded through him, funneling out his fingertips into ruby fire, burning anyone and anything that had been at the training grounds. He walked away from the mess, heading once again to his charred room. He slammed the door closed, and headed straight for the balcony, wishing to feel the cooling air in peace. He stepped out into the quickly fading light, putting his hands on the railing and looking out to the cities he planned on destroying. Once again his insides flipped with disgust, seeing the pathetic creatures running around.
Jack's insides flipped again, sending what he expected to be his breakfast up into his throat. He bent over, black hair brushing the railing as he willed the food back down. When nothing changed, Jack sped off to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach into the white bowl. Resting his throbbing head against the cool porcelain, he sneered at himself. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting, puking like a sick child. Pathetic. A fist dropped down on the edge of the toilet, sending bits and pieces of porcelain scattering across his bathroom floor.
No. Jack stood, his hand making it's way up to his mask. Not tonight. His hood slid down, freeing his short, spiked black hair to the dim bathroom candles.
Tonight, there would be no Jack of Blades. He was going to town and leaving his mask behind, if only for one night. Jack stared blankly at his mask, not knowing whether to be gentle with it, in fear of it breaking, or throw it across the room, praying for it to shatter into a million damn pieces. His dolden eyes closed, he never even got any alone time to think, with that damn mask watching him every second, a constant reminder of the Queen and Knight. Without another thought he tossed it carelessly aside, silently hoping it to break.
After a shower Jack wordlessly got dressed into a pair of black trousers, slightly baggy but still resembling assassin wear. Putting on a simple maroon tunic, a color matching his Jack of Blades cloak, he threw his dirtied clothes into a small basket by the door, awaiting to be emptied by the maids. Jack's pale hand brushed across the sheath of the Sword of Aeons and he froze. Jack thought, coming up with three problems that he would need to tend to before leaving.
A. Leaving the Sword of Aeons, where anyone could take it, should they find out about him being gone.
B. Leaving his beloved castle, where champions come to fight and only one to stay, and going to town... unarmed...
C. Well, now that he thought about it there wasn't even a C... Ah, yes.
C. Leaving the mask. Period...
He could easily hide the Sword of Aeons in one of his multiple hidden safes, along with his mask. As for being unarmed... Jack raised his head and cackled. Well, he's never unarmed...
Jack smiled, smelling the fresh air as he stepped out onto his balcony, slowly making his way to the railing. Hopping over it, he easily landing in the soft grass stories below and looked back at his castle, a small smile hidden in the decreasing light. No longer the Court, a Hero, a Champion. If only for a night, he was leaving everything he knew and was going to have some alone time.
Freedom, is a strange thing.