IV. Rain
A young man, with long silver tresses that flowed almost to his waist, walked through the forest as the storm continued.
He had no idea how he got separated from his half-brother or his half-brother's guardian/lover, nor did he have an idea of where to go to for temporary shelter.
He turned, and noticed that there was candlelight flickering from a nearby stone castle...
Cassandra breathed in the scent of the pouring rain, letting himself get completely drenched by the raindrops. He needed this time to himself, and he needed the time to think.
Even with trying to occupy himself with painting and taking care of the children, his mind still wandered back to those painful memories. It hurt a lot back then, and it still hurt a lot now.
Cutting himself, to relieve himself of those memories temporarily, was now out of the question. Leroy kept an eye on Cassandra whenever he was near anything sharp that could he could possibly wound himself with. It made sense; the young boy only wanted to make sure Cassandra was alright and all, but he felt his privacy being somewhat invaded a bit more, whenever he was outside the West Wing where he slept.
"Cassandra?"
Cassandra let out a sigh as his train of thought was broken, before he turned to see Maryweather, standing in the doorway of the balcony, looking at him skeptically.
"Are you sure that's a good idea to stand in the rain like this? And without an umbrella?" She asked quietly. "My mother once told me that it's not good for people to be out in the rain too long or else they'll get cold and sick."
Cassandra paused, before replying. "I understand your concern, but I'm fine, thank you." He answered. "I won't get sick so easily."
Easier better said than done. Unfortunately, as soon as Cassandra walked back into the building, he almost collapsed against a wall, shivering and shaking slightly. Maryweather just let out a sigh, before speaking again.
"I told you!"
Cassandra let out a weak chuckle at that remark, before doing his best to drag himself down the hallway. He didn't get farther than a few steps before a sharp pain entered his head.
What-How-
Cassandra grabbed his head with one hand, still shaking a bit.
Hurts-can't-
He fell unconscious instantly, and he suddenly fell...
Only to be caught in someone else's arms.
Maryweather looked up at the man who had saved Cassandra from getting himself a possibly head wound, had he hit the floor. A pair of grey-blue eyes stared into her own pair of light blue eyes in shock, before looking downwards at the unconscious Cassandra.
The older man (who definitely was not as old as Cassandra) let out a quiet sigh, before speaking. "Never once in my life did I think that Cassandra would still have company after a ten years' passing."
Leroy and Maryweather demanded an introduction, right after they dragged Cassandra all the way to the West Wing and to his room. The newcomer answered their questions quite easily.
His name was Jizabel Disraeli, and he had been affiliated with Cassandra ten years ago-In which Cassandra began to have sentimental feelings for the once-sixteen-year-old boy. Alexis had figured this out, and his soldiers killed everyone in Cassandra's kingdom until Cassandra was the only one left. Having been skilled in magic, he casted that spell upon Cassandra-the same spell that turned him into the current, beastly form.
Jizabel sighed as he looked at the unconscious Cassandra, sleeping in the bed, before glancing at a nearby small table. "So...He still keeps that rose. I thought he would have given up on getting back to normal, but considering that this rose doesn't seem to be damaged, he must have still been trying all this time." He muttered.
Maryweather and Leroy both peered at the rose on the table. The deep scarlet rose was encased in a glass jar, suspended in mid-air. There were some ashes on the table underneath the rose, and neither had an idea of where they might have came from...
That is, until one of the petals slowly turned black, before falling off the rose and turning into ash.
Jizabel's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the sight. "...Interesting."
"So..." Leroy paused, before speaking up. "I'm guessing if that rose wilts completely, Cassandra will stay a beast forever?"
"Yes, I believe that is how the spell went. And now, ten years are going to be complete, very soon. The rose has about thirty-one petals left, so...He has thirty-one more days to break the spell." Jizabel responded, pushing a dripping strand of silver hair behind his ear. He paused, before turning towards the door. "I'll be right back. Keep an eye on him."
As soon as Jizabel left, that was when Cassandra began to stir. He was twitching at first, but then his eyes slowly opened, in time to see Leroy and Maryweather.
"What are-what are you two doing-here-" He managed to speak. His voice sounded hoarse, and he was struggling to sit up. "I thought I told you-"
"We know. Don't go in the West Wing. How else were we supposed to get you to your room then!?" Leroy exclaimed, walking over to the older man and pushing him back down on the bed. "You are sick, and you need rest. Alright? We're just trying to help you!"
"But-" Cassandra started, but a voice interrupted him.
"Heed their words, Cassandra. Being stuck as a beast is enough, but being a sick beast is probably far worse."
Cassandra turned towards the door to see-
"Jizabel?"
And Cassandra promptly passed out again, too shocked, feverish and tired to do anything else.