Hi! I managed to find the time to post this today! Yay!
I have nothing to say, but I ask that you all read the end notes since I have a couple things to talk about. :-)
Enjoy!
Chapter Four: Exposition; Nothing but Exposition for Miles to See.
Dipper remembered the first time he had ever seen the prince, on the TV. He had been around five at the time, his mother and father watching the monthly addresses like any self-respecting adult in their kingdom. The prince had just turned ten, which had meant he had been old enough to start appearing at the addresses with the King, even though there hadn't been much he could say about the topic of interest. Dipper remembered looking at the prince and feeling enchanted. After all, he was a prince! Like something out of one of the fairytales his parents had told his sister and him as children.
It didn't hurt that, even back then, the prince had dressed immaculately, looking very dapper in a yellow three piece suit, the little black tie hung delicately from his thin neck. As a person who had always appreciated a well-dressed individual, especially one who was a kid like him, little Dipper had been completely and utterly enchanted, willingly watching the address for the first time.
It had been then that he had first heard tale of the prince's madness, as well. He distinctly recalled his father whispering to his mother, muttering about how it was a shame what had happened to the boy. His mother had replied that it was tragic, but that it made sense. After all, watching your older brothers die, and then using one of their bodies as a shield at the tender age of two and a half did tend to drive one to madness, not to mention the fact his mother had been carted away three years later, driven mad after the death of two of her three sons. Dipper had asked, then, what madness meant, and his parents had gotten really quiet before changing the topic.
It had been a couple more years before he learned what his parents had meant, and even then it was only because he had overheard a group of kids whispering on the playground, a quiet conversation on the 'condition' of the prince.
"I hear he likes to strap people in his dungeon and torture them," one of the girls had whispered.
"Well, I hear he sometimes leaves the castle for hours at a time, only to return covered in blood!" whispered another.
"I hear he once killed a man in cold blood, right in front of the whole court!"
The rumors continued to be whispered, gasps and giggles filling the air as the group spoke. Dipper had listened with rapt curiosity, eyes wide as he heard the list of supposed crimes. When he went home that day, he had told his parents what he had heard, eyes wide and already halfway to believing every one. His mother, however, had simply frowned and sat him down, explaining that the young prince had done nothing of the sort and that it was just the fanciful imaginings of second graders. He had felt a margin of shame and embarrassment, for believing the lies so quickly, but had nodded dutifully as he mother informed him that, while Prince Cipher might not be the same as everyone else, there was nothing wrong with him and his differences didn't mean he was a psychopath.
However, he had learned, that day, exactly how the people felt about the prince. Most thought of him as a joke, making up the most ridiculous rumors, with the rest thinking of him as something to pity. Poor Prince Cipher, driven mad by the murder of his brothers. Yet… Dipper hadn't exactly fallen into either category. Sure, it was sad, to know the prince wasn't all there, but Dipper didn't think he needed pity or anything. After all, he seemed competent enough during the addresses, if a little harsh at times. And he certainly wasn't a joke, a fact the whole kingdom learned when the prince had been fifteen.
For years the King had striven to eliminate the group of individuals that had invaded his castle and taken his beloved heirs, leaving him with a barely sane son who was the laughing stock of the kingdom. When the prince had turned fifteen and a half, he had joined his father's crusade, much to the kingdom's amusement.
However, Dipper would always remember the day that the prince had stood on the platform where speeches took place, his face as hard as stone as he spat vitriol about the group, who had called themselves 'freedom granters.' The whole kingdom had shivered at the look in the usually nonsensical young man's eye, the hatred and anger he felt plain as he demanded the world to give up any scrap of information they had about the group. And then, a handful of months later, Dipper recalled watching, along with the rest of the nation, as Prince Cipher had sentenced the last member of the group to death, his voice and eye alight with a righteous glee as the man had been dragged away. After that, no one considered the prince a laughing stock, with the vivid reminder of how powerful the young man truly was, though the whispers about him being a psychopath doubled, Dipper's middle school alive with rumors about the people the prince had murdered.
Dipper didn't know exactly how old he had been when it had started to become the cool thing to have a crush on the prince, but he thought it must have been when he had been twelve, a year after people had begun respecting the prince and a year away from the prince's first Matching Ceremony. As a child, the prince hadn't been anything special; long limbs, pointy features, and a high pitched, nearing whiny voice, not to mention all of the rumors about his madness and psychopathy.
At seventeen, though, the prince had begun to grow into himself, his body elongating to match his limbs, his face shifting enough that the sharp features began to look endearing, rather than silly. And his voice… it had changed, gaining a two tone quality, a deeper sound adding to the higher one. Many people had claimed him to be a demon, his voice too unnatural and too strange, but no one ever really believed that rumor. It was just something unique about the prince that made him, strangely, more attractive to young girls (and quite a few boys), Mabel being one of them. Dipper had been forced to listen to hours upon hours of his sister enthusing about the prince, what he had worn that day, how his hair looked. How- ugh- sexy his voice was. That summer had not been fun, trying to solve the mystery of Gravity Falls all while his sister refused to shut up about the prince.
Yet Dipper hadn't been able to deny the claims. The prince had looked good, his grin wide and blinding; his smirk mischievous and playful. Dipper would never admit to anyone, not even himself really, but it was clear that the enchantment he had felt as a child had never really faded, nor would it really ever. The prince was a larger than life character, his mannerisms exaggerated, yet precise. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, even when it seemed like there was no rhyme nor reason to his actions. Like the time he had left the castle for two weeks without any warning, returning with only a shrug in response, simply saying he had wanted to wander. It was hard not to feel attracted to such a character, like a moth to a flame. And the madness… as his mother had said, all it did was make the prince different, but not bad.
But then the prince had begun to show his true colors.
Now, the prince had always had a mouth on him, frequently insulting a visiting Noble, or giving a scathing remark to the wait staff, but as a child it had been excused as simple childish consternation. Dipper himself had never noticed it much, since he had had his own moments of anger, especially between the ages ten-thirteen. As the prince had neared his eighteenth year, however, the kingdom grew less and less tolerant of the increasingly harsher comments the prince dished out during the speeches he had taken to giving every so often. Comments about how the nation was circling the drain with peasants who couldn't even plant their crops properly (back when the kingdom had been going through a lack of food) or comments about the police doing as much crime as they prevented, laughing all the while at the 'peasant's' plight. Pretty soon, the people stopped viewing the comments as charming and started seeing them as they really were; rude.
It didn't stop people from loving him, though. Many people, the same who would once mock the prince for his insanity, would look past his comments, sometimes saying they were accurate so it didn't matter how rude they were. Dipper would hear the very same people who made him feel worthless on a near daily basis glorify the prince, smiling smugly as their own actions were justified by the prince's.
However, Dipper, who had recently turned thirteen and thought himself an expert on all matters, hadn't understood how people could look past something as glaringly wrong as those comments were. He had been told since a child that a person was bad when they insulted someone else, and if the prince kept insulting other people, well… he must have been bad, right? He was a bully and Dipper especially hated bullies.
After that, any hints of admiration were buried promptly, a growing disdain filling its place. After all, Dipper could excuse madness; it wasn't the man's fault he wasn't all there. But rudeness? There was no real excuse for that, none that the thirteen year old boy could see, at least. He had stopped listening to news about the prince after that, his interest in the man waned, even as the speculations about his Match ran rapid around his school. For several months Dipper focussed solely on school and his few friends, ignoring the news, even though he had to force himself at times. It was glorious- to be so detached from the prince- he told himself.
And then the Matching Ceremony came and went, with the whole nation feeling bewildered when the prince only got a Partial Match and subsequently denied them. But more than that, the nation felt perplexed about the fact that said Match had been male. Dipper had been forced to focus on the prince after that, his curiosity too much to not listen; not to mention that news about the man was everywhere.
Now, the thought that same sex relationships were wrong had died out with the Great Wars, but it was still something people would whisper about, behind their hands as they stared at the couple in question. A novelty, he supposed. Learning the prince had been Matched, even partially, with a man had been shocking. Well, to some. As many people in his middle school would whisper, it wasn't that big a shock when you looked at how put together the prince always looked. No man cared that much about his looks without having some attraction to his own gender, they insisted.
Dipper had just scrunched his nose at those comments, thinking them backwards and ridiculous, but there was no denying that the prince felt some amount of attraction to his own gender. Complete attraction, in fact, as they would learn over the next four years, when every Match turned out to be male. It had made Dipper's insides squirm to realize, though he refused to ever think about why the prince's personal preference mattered to him at all.
Every year that had passed- with each new Match coming away as only Partial- left the nation with more pity for that man, all of them knowing how hard it was to constantly be denied their True Love. Even Dipper had grown to feel something for the man, something that was less than pity but more than indifference, even though he had still detested his horrid personality. No one deserved to be alone, though, no matter what.
Yet that was what the prince seemed destined to be, everyone whispered, causing the weird pity to grow inside Dipper. It was more vibrant that year as he got ready for his Ceremony, the feeling of nerves so great that he felt bad for the man who had done this four times and yet still hadn't found his match.
And it was that cursed pity that Dipper felt that was the cause of his current predicament, he thought miserably as he curled up under his blanket, body shaking with the tears he had been shedding on and off for the past hour as he thought unwillingly of the memories he had had of the prince, memories that regrettably ended with his embarrassment and subsequent anger and sorrow. But, he thought as he stared at his blanket, it had been that pity, that thought of how horrible it must be to constantly be denied that made him view the prince as anything more than the ass he truly was.
Because the man wasn't anything more than an ass. He knew it. Hell, the whole kingdom knew it. Even as a young child he had seen it, in the smirks and the cruel laughs, though he hadn't been mature enough to notice fully how awful that man truly was.
The only reason he had felt anything other than hatred, he was sure of now, was that he had felt sorry for the man. After all, Dipper had always been a bleeding heart, unable to ignore it when someone had told him a sad story. It was why he had felt anything at all for the prince, in fact, even as a child. The man's madness had caused his heart to go out to him.
It didn't matter, he refused to think, that he had never really felt pity for the prince, not even when hearing about the failed Matches. Pity was not quite the word he would use, to describe the churning in his gut and clenching in his heart every time he saw the man reject another Match, each time his eye dimmer than the last, the madness a little bit brighter in his smile. However, as he didn't want to name that emotion, pity was the only explanation for his momentary lapse of sanity. Going over the prince's whole life had made one thing clear to him; the man was pitiable. He was mad, he was unlovable. He was likely going to go through his entire life alone. And that made Dipper pity him.
Yet that was all it was. Pity. And even that was gone, now. He didn't feel sorry for the man; hell, the man deserved everything he got, Dipper now thought with a vengeance. He didn't deserve the pity. Not after what he had done. Not after he had humiliated him for a, a laugh!
Dipper took a deep breath, and tried to stop the tears. It was pathetic, crying so hard about something so stupid. Cipher didn't deserve his tears, that much was sure.
A few more minutes passed, his breathing steadying, when his stomach let out a loud growl, reminding the boy about the fact he had missed lunch. Biting his lip softly, he contemplated whether or not he should go down or stay up in his room where it was safe; to not eat or to brave the world to try and find one of the restaurants that were littered around the area they were in, since the hotel didn't serve complimentary dinner. He could always get room service, but the cost would be charged to his parents instead of him, and he didn't want to make them pay more than they had to. So, with a sigh as his stomach grumbled once more, Dipper got up, wiped off his cheeks, and exited the room, yanking his hat on to try and hide the mess that was his hair.
Leaving the hotel, Dipper took the opposite path to the one he had taken that morning, going on the path that would lead him into the city and to the strip mall he had heard was nearby. He looked around as he went, his heart clenching as he saw Matches walking hand in hand, smiling sweetly at one another. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, he marched down the path, grumbling under his breath about how stupid love was. He did his best to ignore the fact that he was starting to sound a bit like Grunkle Stan.
Finally, after about ten minutes, the boy reached the strip mall, the colored lights bright and enticing. Despite himself, Dipper felt himself smile a little. He had always loved going to strip malls as a child, since it felt like an adventure to explore the tiny shops and find whatever interesting wares they sold. He hadn't been to one in ages, ever since he and Mabel had moved to Gravity Falls for good, so it felt nice to stand here, looking at the small, somewhat dirty mall. Maybe this would be able to lift his spirits, he hoped quietly.
He was about to go searching the stores for hidden treasures when his stomach let out another embarrassingly loud growl, reminding him of why he was there. Giving a nervous smile to the couple who had turned to see what the noise was, he scurried off to try and find something small to eat, willing the red in his cheeks to fade.
It didn't take him long to find a small restaurant that sold tacos. With a- only slightly tight- smile, he entered the place, enjoying the homey feel the room had. The walls were a warm brown color, with cream colored carpeting. The room itself was littered with tables and booths, both made of brown polished wood with red upholstery, with people scattered around, chatting as they ate. He caught the attention of the waitress and got himself a small booth to himself, positioned so he could see the small TV that resided in the corner of the room. Smiling a more real smile, he took the menu and searched for something that looked interesting, pushing everything negative to the back of his mind. He wouldn't think on it- that was all. There was nothing wrong with a little denial now and again.
It was as he was reading about a fish taco that contained a creamy jalapeño sauce that he heard that stupid, grating voice that he hated more than anything.
The boy froze in his place, his heart stopping as he let out a curse to the heavens above. Dipper's head shot up, eyes darting around wildly for the blond head that he was getting far too familiar with. He felt confused, however, when he didn't see him. It took a few more seconds of looking around for the boy to realize that Cipher wasn't actually in the room; rather, he was on the TV, the news station the little taco shop was stopped on showing an interview with the prince himself, something about how he felt about this Match.
Dipper could hear that many of the patrons of the restaurant were watching the broadcast, speaking excitedly about the prince and who he might have gotten. All of a sudden Dipper felt sick, his appetite gone as he was reminded of what had happened earlier, his hope to live in denial ruined quicker than he had thought. Well, at least now he knew what had been the important business Cipher had mentioned, he thought blithely, staring down at his hands.
He grit his teeth and listened to a couple more moments of the interview, in an attempt to prove to himself that he wasn't weak and didn't have to run if he heard Cipher's voice, but then the prince laughed his weird laugh and Dipper couldn't take it anymore. With an apology to the waitress, Dipper sped out of the store, heart thumping so loud he was sure everyone in the mall could hear it.
Great, he thought miserably as he kicked a rock along the sidewalk. Cipher was now preventing him from eating. He sighed as he took a seat on a bench, putting his head in his hands.
This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. He was eighteen years old, he should have been able to handle being mocked by then. After all, he had had enough practice. He had learned a long while before that you couldn't get along with everyone, so it was easier to just ignore the bullies and live his life as he saw fit. Cipher didn't deserve his upset, or even his anger. The man didn't deserve a single second of thought wasted on him.
It didn't make things hurt less, though. Dipper didn't even understand why it hurt so much, which was likely his biggest issue, he thought. It hadn't been that bad, in all honesty. Most of the fault had been his own, for actually believing the prince could be more than he had proven himself to be. Dipper knew the prince was a jerk. So why had he ever thought otherwise? It was his fault for believing Cipher could be more than he was.
It didn't excuse Cipher, though. It had been clear that he knew what he was doing, and yet still had done it. No apology, just a cruel smirk and a harsher goodbye. He had to have known the effect he had had. After all, Dipper was known to be an open book, his emotions written all over his face. So there was no excuse.
Dipper let out another sigh, his stomach clenching from the lack of food, but the boy ignored it. His heart hurt more than his stomach, so he didn't feel like getting up right then. Part of him wished Mabel was there, even though she'd try to get him to tell her what was wrong. Mabel was the best person to have when you were down, since she wouldn't stop until you were happy as a clam. It was one of the things he had always loved most about his sister; she cared very deeply about those closest to her and would do anything to make them happy and healthy.
But Mabel wasn't there. She was with Pacifica, likely having the time of her life with her Match.
And that, Dipper thought as he put his head in his hands, clutching the hair around his hat, brought up the other issue he was having. His Match. He had almost forgotten his heartache about that, with his issues with Cipher.
Well, perhaps he should have felt grateful to Cipher, then, he thought drily. At least he had distracted him from his Match woes.
With a deep breath, Dipper sat up and stared out ahead of him, gathering himself. Things weren't good. He had been stood up by his Match for what had supposed to have been their initial meeting. He had run into the prince- literally- and the man had proceeded to make a nuisance of himself, refusing to leave him alone. He still hadn't seen hide nor hair of his Match, a full day later. But he was still alive. He still had his sister. And he was still standing, even if he had been beaten down a little.
As long as he could say that, things would be alright. He was positive of that fact. So, with another deep breath, Dipper stood up and wandered the mall some more, looking at the displays presented in the windows he passed, before finally stopping in a restaurant that looked promising. And that didn't have a television, he thought quietly as he took his seat at a two person table by the window.
He would be fine. Nothing that happened this weekend would harm him irreparably. Broken hearts would heal, broken egos would mend. And after a while, he'd forget all about Cipher, and hopefully his Match would meet him either the next day or right before the Ceremony, an apologetic smile on their lips as they explained they were simply too nervous to meet him that first day and their nerves had prevented them from saying 'hi' the following two days. And even if they didn't, he'd still live. He'd find love somewhere else.
Nothing was permanent. None of this would matter in the long run. The world would keep turning, his heart would keep beating.
This pain wouldn't last forever.
Dipper ate his food and tried to believe his thoughts.
Hey all! Hope you liked the chapter. I have midterms next week, so I might be busy studying next week and won't have much time, but we'll see if I can take a ten-twenty minute break to post the chapter.
One thing I wanted to talk about is that some people are upset with Bill, and while I understand why, I wanted to defend him just a little. For one, he didn't actually mean to hurt Dipper's feelings. It was more... he felt uncomfortable and he subconsciously deflected. For another, he hadn't actually realized that his words would hurt Dipper. The way I see it, Bill doesn't really notice that his words hurt people. Like, he knows they do because people tell him they do, but it doesn't really mean anything to him. So I just wanted to clear that up. Bill hadn't meant to hurt Dipper, and he hadn't realized that it actually did. As you'll see next chapter, Bill does care.
Oh! And this is something about me, but I'm writing an original story! I'm taking the time when I'm trying to sleep to write out a novel length story. I was wondering if anyone would actually be interested in reading it? I'm not sure if I'll post it online or if I'll try to get it published (depends on how good it turns out to be) but if anyone would actually want to read something original I wrote, let me know! The story itself is kind of religious (I'd say biblical, but I focus more on Jewish beliefs since I am Jewish), but it's about a man who makes a deal with the devil, and as punishment Lucifer tries to take his sons' lives. The man takes his sons and runs, doing his best to keep them all safe despite all the obstacles and demons Lucifer is sending their way.