Saving Slumberland

by Bananaretsuko

Camille, Princess of Slumberland, is turning 18. Her father, King Morpheus, has just revealed to her that he will take a leave of absence, meaning Camille will soon be Queen for the jolly kingdom. But she doesn't feel ready to take her father's place yet, and what's worst, she makes a grave mistake that changes everything.

10. All Smiles

10 All Smiles

Vince's and Nemo's swords collided. Their two long blades rang, the echoes of their fight vibrating against the ballroom's walls. The large chandelier above trembled, chimes of diamond drops clanking gently together into a soft song only fairies could pick up.

I just stood there, too intrigued to interrupt, but I knew this was unnecessary. Everyone in the ballroom watched with expressions of shock, too dumbfounded to interfere, as the two young men danced across the floor, swinging their swords at each other. Well, it mainly was Nemo on the offense, attacking with swift grace, his jabs calculated. Taking defense with poise, Vince kept a cool smirk to his lips, blocking every hit Nemo threw at him. He took his steps backward with purpose, most of his body relaxed apart from his sword at hand, and just for show, kept his free hand curled behind his back.

Nemo gritted his teeth and pushed his steel one-handed sword towards Vince's head to wipe that smirk off his face. Vince didn't even bother to dodge; he lifted his sword and pushed Nemo away, like brushing aside a curtain.

"Is jabbing all you can do? Fencing left you a bit limited," Vince sneered.

Nemo's thick brown eyebrows angled sharply, and he squinted his honeyed eyes at the knight.

"I'm just getting started," he replied and smiled crookedly. He huffed, losing breath with each hit he's thrown at Vince, his sleep dress an oddity to their duel when it stretched by the wide stance of his long legs. Vince's backward steps and effortless blocks seemed to peeve Nemo because the visitor clenched his teeth, forehead perspired, and grilled, "Throw a hit at me already!"

Vince scoffed, stringing Nemo along like he was toying with him.

"If I do, I will kill you," he muttered, bored.

Afternoon sunlight poured through the ballroom's tall windows, casting bright yellow onto the two boys until they bathed fully. Vince would step back, hitting the shadows between the windows, and then return to the sun, his armor flashing with its beams. Nemo's dark brown hair turned almost red in the sunlight, adding a glimmering gold along his profile. Together, they erupted between light and shadow like another entertainment for all to witness.

I settled one hand on my heart to feel it still beating wildly, wondering when Vince would perform the final blow. He was amusing himself, possibly waiting until Nemo grew too exhausted to continue the fight, a blow to our future king's ego.

Sitting on his throne, father fumed, his face red. I gasped when the floor vibrated from a stomp of his foot, and he rose from his golden throne.

"Enough of this!" Father ordered, reminding the whole room that he was still the King of Slumberland, and whoever disobeyed him would suffer the consequences. Vince pushed away Nemo's sword with a slight wave of his, and his cold eyes lit up, clearly entertained.

"Nonsense, Morpheus. This is part of my gift, putting on a show for Slumberland's future king, remember? He just so happens to be my volunteer," he announced sarcastically.

Behind that enormous white beard, Father crunched his teeth together, and his hand squeezed around his scepter until it shook. When I glanced at its crystal, a dark, unsettling color emerged in its sphere. Sneaking a peak at Father's face only sent shivers up my spine. His lips twisted with a suppressed roar.

Whispers spread among the audience, uncertain if this sword fight happened to be unexpected or a part of the ceremony. No one seemed brave enough to step forward and stop the battle; many were too entertained. Bonbon's large eyes met with mine across the room, sending me a look like she was asking me, "What in Slumberland is going on?"

I jerked my head away, boiling under my teal dress, and threw my narrowed eyes at Vince.

What was he trying to prove here beside his immaturity? Why put Nemo through this game? Why ignore his king?

Nemo threw a horizontal slice at Vince's shoulders. His robes flared behind him like Vince's cape, brown bangs tossed to the side and sticking to his wet forehead, eager to get at least one hit. But Vince saw it coming without even a glance and used the hilt of his sword to block. Nemo drew back, and out of desperation, he threw a fist in the air, hitting nothing.

"Throw a hit at me already!"

Vince's lips lifted only slightly. He curled his face in, a dark glimmer in his sharp eye.

"As my future king wishes," he replied under his breath.

I tensed when I saw Vince bend his knees, and then he rammed the pommel of his sword straight into Nemo's stomach, right below his sternum.

I heard the blow from where I stood and inhaled sharply. Nemo's eyes popped, his mouth was wide open to spray saliva, and he gurgled a crackle of a cry. He dropped his sword as he flew back five feet before his shoulders made an impact with the marble floor first, followed by the rest of him with a tumble. He slid, his head touching the edge of the long red carpet, and groaned, gripping his smashed stomach tightly. Before he fluttered his eyes open, a sword was already pressed into his chest.

Vince loomed over Nemo, spilling shadow when his head blocked the chandelier's light from view. He appeared as a nightmare, dark hair masking the sides of his face with eyes far away. He held his sword with jabbing purpose when he settled its pointed end into Nemo's chest. All he had to do was just one little push, and it would be all over.

"Vince, enough! Enough!" Father roared, and the whole room trembled.

Vince seemed unaffected, too lost inside his head to hear his king's booming voice. The light in his eyes faded, his hand trembling to keep himself from shoving his sword straight through Nemo's heart.

Nemo shook, his entire face covered in sweat as he glared up at Vince. I'd never seen Vince like this before, not knowing what to do as I watched him fight with himself. His teeth pressed together, breathing through them until he hissed, knuckles tight when he clenched his fist around his sword's handle.

Shadows manifested inside the troubled fighter, and he trembled as he fought against their tempting whispers.

Father lifted his scepter, and it began to glow like he was carrying the sun on the end of his staff. Sudden winds tossed loose strands of my hair, my teal dress patting against my ankles.

People began to rush out of the room when the chandelier flickered, afraid of their king when he was like this.

Dr. Genius ran up to father, waving his arms up and down in a panic.

"Sire, please, not here," he begged.

But Father didn't listen, the scepter only brightening. Vince seemed oblivious to it, still stuck inside his head, battling his inner demons. He was utterly unaware that Father was about to take his life to rescue Nemo, not ready for the carefully thought-out pawn to be killed so soon just because of an ego fight.

My hands became hot and clammy in my white gloves, fingers opening and closing as I silently wished Vince to wake up. What was happening to him? Why was he acting like this? What could be going through his head?

Vince, wake up.

My lips moved, silently mouthing the words. He didn't look up or blink, nothing but glared down at Nemo with a distant look, telling me he wasn't here in the ballroom.

I sucked in a breath sharply, threw my fists down, and screamed high-pitched, "Vince, wake up!"

My wail bounced off the walls, and the ballroom trembled. I didn't even notice my eyes were moist until I found Vince to be blurry, his dark hair and blue cape fuzzy blobs.

If I hadn't screamed, perhaps Nemo would've died, and all that would happen in the future could've been avoided. No. I don't believe it's my fault, but it's funny how it all might've depended on this one scene, as though Vince had a hunch and acted on it before the disaster occurred.

However, my voice reached him.

Vince gasped, his eyes widening as he'd just woken up from a spell. Wherever he was, I hope he never goes back there again…

He blinked, discovering his hand still holding the sword, ready to impale Nemo, and grunted before flinging the weapon across the room. It smacked loudly a few times, piercing my ears.

Father's powers dwindled, but he continuously glared at Vince with many ways of punishment plotting in his mind. Vince composed himself, his cold eyes to a window, crossed his arms, and muttered, "My apologies." His shadows twisted away, hiding in his heart to make room for the light again, back to himself like it never happened.

Nemo stood up, dusting off his robe and dress. A little spot of blood was the only proof of what almost transpired. Vince glanced at it with steady eyes, face neutral. After a swallow, he gave Nemo a cold look.

"Let this be your first lesson as the future King of Slumberland. Don't pick a fight without knowing your enemy's strengths and weaknesses first," he muttered.

Nemo made a face at his dress, where the spot of blood stained his thumping heart, a mark of warning.

"If you have any weaknesses," he grumbled.

Vince grunted, Nemo's words strangely compelling, and for a second, his eyes held a glint, but then they quickly cooled again.

"Vince!" Father warned, his giant finger pointing to a spot at the bottom of the steps as a silent order for his subject to take his place before his king.

Vince blew out through his nose and marched forth, one hand on his hip. He avoided father's gaze when he took a knee at his spot and said nothing. Unintentionally, I caught Vince's eyes, and they widened slightly, like he'd forgotten I was there the whole time. He turned his head away sharply, hair smacking over one of his eyes while hissing through his teeth.

Father stomped the end of his scepter, creating cracks two feet from Vince's silver sabatons. It was enough to make the floor tremble, including me, but Vince remained frozen, unamused. Now it was Father's turn to stand over him as a mighty presence, casting darkness over Vince's bent form to make him feel powerless, just as he did to Nemo minutes ago.

"Vince, I know you've just gone through a difficult loss," Father began, voice surprisingly soft, but it only dipped with more acidity from there when he continued.

"But you were disrespectful to Slumberland's future king, as well as disobeyed my orders and ruined our Gifting Ceremony! If you weren't leaving Slumberland, I would have stripped you of your title as captain or, better yet, make you stay because you want to leave. It would be a suitable punishment."

"Do whatever you want," Vince hissed quickly, already knowing what his punishment would be, and turned on his heel, his cape smacking his hip as he did.

He simmered as he marched towards the doors, passing a nervous Dr. Genius and peeved Nemo, and left without another word, his head still high.

I watched Vince's cape rattle like his insides, his boots clattering until he vanished in shadow, gone.

"Well, I guess I lost," Nemo's voice pulled my attention, and I found him sighing, a sad smile on his delicate face.

"Well, a bet's a bet," he whispered to himself, lifting his depressed eyes and showing them to me. His hand cradled his stomach, and he winced when he straightened out.

"Nemo…." Knowing he was trying to be brave, I didn't know what else to say when I saw him swallow his disappointment. He turned to father and sparkled as best as he could with another jerk of pain.

"Ow! All right, King Morpheus, I'm staying," he announced, and his smile grew, giving it to me. I stiffened, caught in such a brilliant closed-lip smile. It only seemed to grow until Nemo chuckled at my expression. Unaware that my lips were left open, I shut them tightly.

Nemo's smile shrank, and I wasn't sure why until I reminisced on it later. He expected me to smile in return, blush, or appreciate his gallant proclamation. A slow disappointment curved along his lips when I didn't do any of that. Little did I know, it became the first seed inside the foreigner's heart, soon to sprout from more displeasure and insecurities throughout his stay here in Slumberland. I didn't see it, too absorbed in the ghosts of Vince in the ballroom.

"Splendid!" Father cheered, arms out wide. That seemed to pull Nemo into a forced smile, even to huff a chuckle at Father to take his giant hands, and they danced around the room with jumpy steps like all was well.

Father spun the young man around like a ballerina.

"My future son-in-law, our future King! This is so exciting! Oh, you're going to love it! There will be your coronation, a parade, a banquet, and-"

I wasn't listening. Maybe Nemo wasn't either. He was too preoccupied with watching me. Being educated, the wheels were already turning in his head. I was too upset at the time to notice, my eyes clinging to the tall, giant doors.

Even Dr. Genius picked up on it when he tried to snap me out of it.

"Princess? Doesn't that sound exciting?"

I ran without a word.

The doors were my only target, leaving the celebration and smiles to Father and his plans.

I had no part in it.

The inside of the castle was suddenly suffocating, and I needed to step outside, no, to go to his spot to take a breath finally. I knew just where he went. Along the way, I picked up his sword and left with haste.

"Camille!" Father's voice faded behind the doors.

…

After running for a long time, I finally stopped. My lungs squeezed, clinging to air as I huffed, trying to refill them while leaning against a cracked white pillar. My eyes spotted what they were looking for, and I pulled Vince's sword against me, cradling its handle until it pressed between my breasts. Soon, I relaxed and stood tall, silently watching from afar.

I saw little Vince sitting there on the stone dock. His feet had dipped into the water, kicking it as though it was the sole cause for all his troubles. With a spat of a bad word, he would throw a rock and watch it skip twice before giving up. That only aggravated him more.

Older, yet, still the same, Vince sat along that same spot, his feet in the clear water of Lake of Dreams. The sun was still high, though curving towards the West, tilting its light across the lake like golden white glitter above the calm water. A pack of swans flapped their wings and departed from the surface, darting behind Vince's form. He seemed not to have noticed the beauty of the birds taking flight nor the breeze waving tall grass and tulips beside the dock.

It was times like these I appreciated Slumberland, the lake pulling me away from the palace to give me the impression I was stepping into a dream. No cities, no towers, no rules. It was just the gentle lake and the field of tulips mixed with wildflowers, untamed yet perfect in their natural way. It's a place with easy thoughts of being the only person in the world when it is desired.

The breeze disentangled my bun, pulling my dress towards Vince to urge me to go to him.

I hesitated, of course.

Vince didn't take note of the meadow nor the lake's wonders, too entranced by his hand while brooding. He kept concentrating on his palm, hard eyes frozen.

What were you thinking about, Vince? Why were you looking at your hand with disgust?

That same hand that almost shoved a blade into Nemo quivered until Vince curled his fingers tight. Alone to process, his thick walls were down for once, and I spotted the trouble brewing in his eyes when they fogged.

Uncertain if I was welcomed, I walked in quietly. When my slippers slapped from grass to stone, I stopped. I knew he was aware of my presence; he always had.

Vince ducked his head, the fog in his eyes gone, and he sighed, that hand falling along the stone's edge to stay out of sight.

"You don't have to be here," he grunted.

I noted his silver sabatons stacked beside him; he must have his legs dipped in the water to cool himself off. That's just what Vince did when he was extremely bothered. I wondered if he did this right after his father died, though I could've been in my coma.

A small pile of flat rocks lay next to him, and he took one to whizz across the water. The years of practice perfected his form, his stone skipping almost ten times before it plopped into the lake.

I sucked in a deep breath, but it didn't settle the knots in my stomach.

"I…" I swallowed and walked a little more until I stood right behind him. If I wanted to, I could stab his back with his sword. I would never do that. Instead, I brought it forward.

"I knew you were at your usual spot," I began, my hands shaking at the weight of holding his weapon over the stone without damaging its tip.

"You forgot your sword."

Vince hissed and slapped a hand over his thigh. He looked at the lake, but I wasn't sure he thought it beautiful as I did. His squinted eyes saw the horizon as an obstacle or a nuisance, not a sparkling glitter of gold.

"Is that so?" He asked quietly. Was he directing that at himself or me?

Without looking back at me, he extended his hand, and I carefully eased his sword's handle into it.

A second later, Vince jumped to his feet and cried out with a mighty two-hand swing. His sword spun through the air far and bid its farewell with a little golden splash. I stood there, stunned.

"Vince, why did you-"

"A sword is just a sword. I could've killed him without it," he interrupted quietly. The whiplash breeze tossed his cape wildly until it brushed against my dress. I took his words carefully, hands behind my back, and tried to relax around him when he was this tense.

"Don't say such things here," I sighed, no longer paying attention to the lake's beauty. Instead, I analyzed the gentle waves knocking into the stacked blocks of old white stone.

This wasn't new.

Whenever Vince was brooding here, he would throw his stones or kick his feet in the water. He had spoken of his frustrations and self-inflicted high pressures many times.

I'm expected to smile and behave in front of the recruits. What a load of bullshit, he once said not even a month ago.

This time, something felt different. I couldn't point out what, but it just seemed more intense, or something new had surfaced, a piece of Vince that wasn't supposed to show up. My uncharted feelings didn't help with the surrounding air, only adding to my nervousness. Many times before, I was calm and warm around Vince here at this spot, our spot, but today, I felt anxious. Something inside me pulled me to him, and fighting against it only rattled my bones to the point of being on edge.

"Vince," I began, using his name to get his attention. He slightly turned his head, but not enough to look at me, his dark bangs hiding his eyes.

I ducked mine when I asked softly, "What happened back there?"

He scoffed with a quick turn of his head away, back to looking at the lake like my question didn't upset him, but I knew it did. I waited as he simmered on his thoughts for a possible answer. Perhaps he didn't even know what had happened.

Vince took a deep breath, and his chest plate gleamed white under the sun's rays.

"I don't know, Camille," he sighed tiredly. Every time he said my name, especially in that soft, raw voice, sharp nails gently tapped my back. As Vince stood, water dripped down to his bare legs over his feet, leaving dark grey spots along the white stone under him.

"I can't believe that brat will run this place," he mentioned, storming again until he shook. Fists curled, and he hissed, "I've let my emotions get the better of me."

I clasped my hands together, afraid that if I reached and touched him, he would smack me away.

"It happens. No one got hurt," I reasoned.

Vince dropped his hands at his sides, and he looked over his shoulder, eyes downcast to have them look at my slippers.

"I fucked up, and now I'm to be stuck here," he mumbled.

I tried not to get offended by those words, but they hit me in my chest, taking my breath away silently as I pretended they didn't.

"I'm sorry," I sulked and walked closer to sit beside his feet. I kicked my slippers off and dipped my feet into the cold water. The chill zapped me more awake, just what I needed to get out of my spiraling negative thoughts, and I watched my little toes curl under the surface. My dress's skirt skimmed along the water, but I didn't care, catching a glimpse of the green silk darkening into marine green like seaweed.

A school of fish became curious in my floating skirt, wondering if it were new kelp.

Vince sat beside me and kicked a foot in the water, scaring the fish away.

"No. I didn't mean it like that," he struggled, watching his foot turn cold and pale. His other leg bent, his chin resting over it.

"I wanted to run away," he admitted.

I looked at him, and he bravely turned his head to look back at me. The cold in his eyes melted briefly, but they frosted again when he returned them to the water.

"You were right," he said, then sighed through his nose.

I blinked at him, hands resting on the stone. His was only a few inches away from one of mine, but I curled my fingers in.

"What are you running away from?" I pried. I distracted myself by gazing down at my feet, kicking softly, and making tiny waves. Vince's more giant foot hovered, still as a barracuda. He seemed to be gazing at the same thing as he sorted his thoughts for a few breaths. When it was time to answer what he was running away from, he shook his head, ready to shut it down with a short answer.

"My past."

"Will you tell me now? About Middle Land and your time growing up there," I quickly pleaded.

Vince lifted his gaze to mine again, a sad smile on his lips. The sun glinted in one of his eyes, his dark bangs flicking up and down from the winds.

"Once upon a time…" he began.

I leaned in.

Vince smirked.

"The end."

I almost rolled into the water.

"That's so ridiculous! You cruel creature!" I growled and kicked water at him.

Vince chuckled, shielding his face with a hand.

"I am cruel," he put firmly but lifted his lips slightly.

I scoffed and kicked more water at him.

"Someday, you will tell me a story of Middle Land! Or better yet, maybe I will ask Nemo. I bet he has good stories."

Vince's smile vanished, that name hitting a nerve, and he blinked at the water to frown deeply.

"Yes. You could ask him. I'm sure he has plenty of bloody good stories of his privileged life to tell. How entertaining," he muttered, sounding sarcastic.

I softened and fought the urge to splash him some more.

"What will you do now?" I inquired, curious.

Vince's armored shoulders sagged.

"Have a hearing with your father to determine my punishment. What else?"

I pressed my lips together. What would father decide? Vince seemed to be already accepting it, ahead of the game in politics, and did his bidding, venting to me before he put on a face in front of his king.

"And..." he lifted his face to soak the sun, finally taking notice of the lake and the jewels floating on its surface. There was a glimpse of what it would look like if he reached and scooped a bunch of those jewels into his hands, wealth cradled in his arms. His hands squeezed the stone edge, along with a heavy swallow.

"You can stay close to me," Vince revealed. My cheeks tingled with heat, and I squeezed the stone hard.

He turned his head, eyes brave enough to reach mine to pass me a glint.

"It doesn't have to just be in battle, you know," he clarified.

I playfully kicked his foot in the water, my face hot.

"Life is a battle," I joked, unable to meet his gaze for long. If I did, I knew he would see everything in a blink. All of my secrets. My nightmares, my feelings, my soul; he could take it all in with a second's gaze.

And then Vince asked, "Do you forgive me?"

That time, I jolt my face up, discovering he had been waiting for my eyes. We connected, and I forgot what I wanted to say. All my words jammed in my throat.

"Umm."

I looked away quickly, which seemed to break the dam, and words came back.

"Is this your way of apologizing?" I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at the blue sky.

Vince stayed quiet, leaving me more room to speak up.

"What you did back there, it wasn't like you, but you were just looking out for me, weren't you?" I dug nervously.

He jerked his head the other way with a hiss.

"Believe whatever you want. Do you forgive me or not?" That meant I was right; he was just too embarrassed to say it.

My hand slid towards his, ready to tell him I forgave him.

He was going to leave for Middle Land, and the pain hit me deeply. Here, together after that fight, the tension seemed to have settled between us, and if he had to stay, I would be secretly relieved.

I pressed my lips together, stuck staring at my busy fingers itching to touch one of his, but patted the stone instead. To make it casual, I kicked his foot again.

"I forgive you," I sighed, pretending to draw it out like it was annoying to do such a thing, and rolled my eyes.

"Thought as much," Vince smirked, pleased. I smacked a finger in his face, and he recoiled an inch, startled for once.

"BUT!" I snapped, glaring at his blinking eyes.

"BUT don't do that again! Or else, I will not speak to you ever again! Got it!" I seethed. My long finger was close to his forehead, ready to cut his face in half with my nail. Vince pressed his lips together and blinked one more time.

"As you wish, Princess." He said "Princess" with a bit of a drag, lightly insulting me. I withdrew the threat and huffed, crossing my arms.

We were quiet for a while after that. I simmered down, paying attention to giggling mermaids a mile away. They often collected along the scattered islands. Lying in the sand or jumping around, splashing, and singing.

Vince relaxed. He got lost in the Lake's dazzling show, but then he ducked his head. A sad smile fell on his lips.

"I can't believe you wanted to come with me," he said suddenly.

I had almost forgotten that part. Even after finally cooling off, the heat came back quicker in a breath, choking me. I wanted to slip into the water to escape. I could feel them, Vince's eyes on me, waiting for a reply.

I looked over my shoulder the other way to watch a pair of swans glide.

"Aaaand?" I chirped, head high and regal, as I awaited his reason for bringing that up.

"What was that about?"

My nails scraped the stone.

"Isn't it obvious? I've always wanted to see Middle Land," I answered with a forced calm.

Vince let out a sigh. "I see…" His voice had extra weight to it.

I was brave enough to turn my head and observe him. His eyes focused on our feet, and something between a grin and a sad smile was carved along his profile.

"I hate it there, and yet, you want to go like it's some fairy tale," he noted. "Funny how that works."

A secret sparkled in his eye.

"I take it you haven't opened your gift yet."

I dropped my jaw as I pictured the fat envelope somewhere on my vanity.

"No. Why?"

"Nothing."

"Does it have to do with Slumberland? Are there tickets or some kind of key inside?! Tell me!"

"Hmmm."

Vince threw his smirk to the lake, not saying a word. I kicked his foot and huffed, "Tell me!"

Suddenly, something hard shoved me forward, and I yelped before falling into the water with a splash.

The lake's cold water smacked me in the face, jolting my body into a second of shock. Quickly, I kicked my legs and popped my head up for air. I boiled, the water bubbling around me when I glared up to find Bonbon laughing from the dock. Her hands curled around her stomach, her body shaking with joy.

She exclaimed proudly, "I found you two!"

"Bonbon!" I shrieked and smashed my fists into the water to splash in all directions.

Vince chuckled with her, only making me glare at him as well.

"Why didn't you warn me?!" I cried. My hair was ruined, my dress and my gems were all soaked.

Vince shrugged.

"She was quiet. I didn't know," he lied.

I pushed water up at him.

"Liar!" I spat.

Bonbon shoved her high heel on Vince's back to try to push him in, but he didn't budge, even when her face turned red with effort.

"Oh, Vince! That's not fair! You're like a boulder," she fussed.

Vince rolled his eyes while Bonbon kicked at his back multiple times.

"Your kicks tickle," he teased. That only burned Bonbon's cheeks more, and she raised her fists.

"Grrr! I hate you!"

I swam up to them and lifted a hand.

"Bonbon, give me a hand?" I tried, plotting. She instantly saw it in my eyes and shook her head, purple hair tossed.

"Oh no! I'm not falling for tha-Ahh!"

She didn't even notice his hand taking her wrist and pulling her in, hands falling first, and then her perfect face smacked the water.

Splash!

I floated there, laughing along with Vince. Bubbles surfaced, and then Bonbon's head flushed out, her growls high-pitched.

"MY HAIR!"

Her long, purple hair flattened out, ruined, and her makeup ran down her face.

She splashed fists and feet in a tantrum on the water as she screamed, "VINCE! I HATE YOU!"

From the stones, he actually smiled, pleased with himself.

"I know," he replied, feet relaxed in the water.

I splashed at Bonbon.

"You started it!"

She splashed back with disgust, more like flicking the water with her fingers.

"You don't wear makeup and hairspray or any of my lovely self cares!"

I rolled my eyes.

"I practice self-care!"

"Yeah?! How?!"

"By doing this!" And I swam to her shoulders to try and shove her down with sweet revenge.

Bonbon's screams turned into bubbles, hands in the air.

We began to fight in the water, giggling and splashing while trying to drown each other. Vince watched with contentment, leaning back on his hands. However, he began to tense up when Bonbon and I swam toward him. Before he was to pull his feet out of the water, we snatched them tightly.

He glared down at us.

"With armor on? Don't you two even dare," he warned.

I mirrored his glare and yanked, Bonbon doing the same. With our team effort, we pulled Vince into the water with a grunt.

Bonbon floated next to me, awaiting Vince to surface when she began to breathe fast.

"Why did we do that? He's going to murder us," she panicked and splashed frantically like she was drowning in anxiety.

"Do you think he'll sink to the bottom?" I inquired, picturing Vince plummeting into the lake's depths with twenty pounds of armor on him. The image made me slightly panic until Vince's head popped next to mine, and he shoved water in my face.

"Oh, this means war," he warned.

The three of us played in the water, laughing as we splashed and swam. Despite the cold water, I was feeling warm inside to see Vince let himself loose. He seemed to be enjoying himself, smiling for the first time in a long time as he regained some of his lost childhood in our playful afternoon. Bonbon and Vince's hate towards each other didn't exist here in the lake. In the water, we were three children, setting aside our differences with only one objective: to have enough fun to forget the strange earlier part of the day.

Herds of swans watched as they floated nearby, digging their beaks under their wings. Birds flew overhead to see what all the commotion was about.

After a while, the day heated, like a hot summer afternoon. Clouds drifted peacefully, cutting across the sun in and out with short periods of shade. Under the light, it was quick to dry, and the breeze kept us cool.

We picked a hilly spot in the field to dry off, gazing out at the lake behind our feet.

"What in Slumberland happened back there, Vince? You were picking a fight with Nemo. Rumors are spreading all over the kingdom now," Bonbon mentioned while she twisted her long air in her hands into a tight, purple knot. Water dripped out, landing in the grass. The flowers embraced the drops of water, opening their petals with delight.

Vince sighed as he peeled off each piece of his armor and laid them all out in the sun to dry.

"I admit, I wasn't thinking," he answered.

"You? Not thinking?" I gasped. Vincent hardly acted on his feelings, if he had any.

He gave me a coy look as he slipped off his chainmail; it clunked heavily around the flowers and then his silk tunic. I caught a glimpse of his bare chest and looked away, blushing.

Bonbon laid back in the grass in her white underwear and kicked her feet up without a care that she was half naked. She closed her eyes and sighed happily, her dark skin basking in the sun's heat.

"Well, you sure made a good first impression," she joked. I elbowed her in the ribs, and she grimaced.

Down to his shorts, Vince sat up, his wet cape slumped over his back and looking away as he said, "I just wanted to spell it out for him. It seemed no one else wanted to."

I ran my fingers through my long, wet hair, its ends over one breast shy of hiding under a damp, translucent gown I wore under my dress. It was challenging to sit still next to Vince with little clothing and pretend to be absorbed in finger-combing my hair to get the knots out.

"I just left them there like that. I feel bad," I added, reflecting on leaving the ballroom abruptly.

Bonbon waved a hand up at the blue sky.

"Pfft! Nemo's fine. Your dad will show him around, or Genius, or whatever. They wanted him here, not you," she sassed.

We seemed to forget that he was to be my fiancée, or maybe neither of us wanted to mention it, stuck wanting to be children for a little longer. Leave the obligations and adulting for later. Shyly, I bumped shoulders with Vince, smiling evilly at him as he tried very hard to keep looking the other way.

"It looked like you had fun," I teased.

Vince curled into himself more, clearly uncomfortable with little clothing next to me. I wish I could read his face, but he kept it hidden.

"Well, slapping him was a delight," he chirped.

"I meant the lake," I giggled, and I fell back, laughing along with Bonbon. Vince smacked a hand over his face.

"Whatever."

After the laughing died, the three of us lay back, looking up at the baby-blue sky. Little specks of white clouds made shapes of hearts or balloons. A flock of birds, an airplane, and an air balloon passed by occasionally. If I listened carefully, I could hear the soft flaps of little waves shyly reaching the lake's shore. Birds chirped. Butterflies fluttered; one seemed fond of Vince, a buttery yellow-winged fellow landing on his bent knee for a quiet pause. Hands behind his head, Vince looked at the butterfly softly, and there was a hidden look of peacefulness to his profile. Maybe he was glad to be staying after all.

Something poked my breast. I turned my head slightly to find Bonbon giving me a wicked look. What was with that smile? Before I could ask, she sat up suddenly and exclaimed, "I'm going to check to see if our dresses are dry!"

She stood up confidently in her underwear and bralette. She skittered off through the wildflowers, our garments hanging loosely in the backwoods of scattered cherry trees in a forever-blossomed state. I popped my head up to watch her go towards them, pink petals endlessly raining with unlimited numbers to each gust.

"That's nice of her," I muttered. What was she up to?

"Yeah, nice of her," Vince sneered. He was never fooled by Bonbon's tricks for drama or manipulation.

I rolled onto my side and propped up on one elbow to watch him lie back comfortably. Again, my free hand wanted to extend and touch his skin, but I got lost staring at it. Not because of attraction but because I noticed something about Vince.

Never seeing him without a shirt, I found no scars across his chest and belly. None.

It told me one thing: he was so talented in battle that no one could lay a permanent mark on him.

Vince caught me staring and interrupted by calling my name.

"What's the matter? Never seen a half-naked man before?" His head turned slightly, brown eyes steady on mine without embarrassment unless he swallowed it well. His cheeks were pink, but that could be the sun giving him color.

I blinked back into focus, stammering my words.

"N-No, that's not it!" I gasped.

I tried to relax as I readied to explain my rational thoughts.

"I just noticed," I started, lips flat. "You have no scars."

Vince lifted a brow.

"Yeah? So?"

I tossed him a warm gaze as I giggled, "So?" And then, quieter, "It just means you are a skillful fighter."

Vince blinked at me before looking at the sky again, hands behind his head.

"Never thought of it like that," he grumbled.

"Well, what do you think it means? You've been through many rough battles and not even a mark. That's blood talent," I chimed, giving him an ego boost.

Vince sighed, and he stayed quiet for a long time. Maybe he drifted off, but his eyes remained at the sky, lost. A warm gust of wind dried his bangs back but pushed the yellow butterfly off his knee. It fluttered off, over his nose, and gone.

"Not even a mark, huh?" He said it quietly, then sat up, cape falling around his hips.

I looked at his back and stiffened.

"Vince," I shuddered.

If his chest was a perfect plain canvas, then his back was a mess of paints and chaotic colors slashed on violently. Many long cut marks, too many to count, some overlapping each other, newer scars atop old ones. I've never seen such markings before, cuts as long as my fingers scattered across his back, most congested near his spine.

I sat up with a gasp and froze, tucking my hands under my chin.

"What happened?"

Vince rested his eyes on his hand. All I could see of his profile was his nose and lips, which curved into a cold, sad smile before his narrow chin.

"My scars," he revealed, displaying them for me as he slightly hid in himself.

One of my hands shook as it pulled free and made its way, fingers dancing inches from his back delicately.

I planted it softly, and my fingers followed the markings, expecting them to burn my skin. Vince tensed.

"Who did this to you? Are these from the battles? The goblin hunts? Our airship crash?" I whispered each question heavily, and my eyes stung until I had to blink often to cool them. Some marks felt deep, others shallow and pink. They were bumpy, smooth, and flat, some with a strange, rough texture atop his skin. I then had to tell myself that I was touching his skin again, and the realization made me never want to pull back.

"Middle Land," Vince growled.

I didn't understand his answer. My fingers explored his back, even when Vince straightened and turned his head to look down at me.

"If my back doesn't tell you MY Middle Land isn't a fairytale, then I don't know what will. Still want to go there?"

Was there a story to each scar? There could be at least a hundred.

My main finger rubbed down a dark line; sightly dented into him as a deep cut. If I pressed harder, would my hand slip into his ribs?

Who did this to you, Vince? Were you only a child? What kind of place does this sort of damage to a child?

"Yes, I do," I breathed unexpectedly, stuck in disbelief that such a place could do this. I traced the scar to another and another, picturing what instrument or event made them, but my innocent mind found none other than a few weapons. Vince's back was warm, the ball of my finger barely brushing him, so it tickled me a little. I'd expected it to bother him, but he didn't say nor show anything other than tense up his spine and let out a short gasp.

I felt the pull of Vince's intense stare when he twisted around, urging me to flick my eyes off his back to look at him, only to forget what we were talking about, and I became lost. In his dark, brown eyes, I've found they, too, carried scars, more than what simmered on his back. At that moment of our gaze, Vince seemed to want to channel all of his past into my head to show me if he could. His eyes grew, or they could've just been coming closer; I couldn't tell.

I took no heed to the breeze, the dancing of flowers, or the call of birds, nothing. An invisible force was pulling me in, and I even thirsted for it when all logic flew away. The wind tossed my mess of damp hair to tickle over my cheeks, hiding one eye. Unexpectedly, the softest tickle of his fingers brushed my hair away, tucking it behind an ear.

"Camille," he whispered, his tone rarely this tender.

Tingles went up my neck, and I held my breath.

The air shifted, and Vince's eyes darted slightly, looking past me. His pupils hardly grew, but his hand shot back like lightning, and he straightened with a grunt before a voice behind me exclaimed, "Hot dog! What a beautiful lake!"

I gasped, the magic gone, and twisted from my waist to find Nemo towering over me, hands on his hips. Still in his funny striped dress, he stood wide and glowed at the lake ahead.

"Ah, so this is what I've missed. Gee, it looks like fun," he continued, gushing over the beauty of nature surrounding us. Unexpectedly consumed by fear, I held my breath.

How did Vince and I appear to Nemo? Did he get the wrong idea? Was he suspicious? His face told me he didn't even notice, but how couldn't he? He'd have to be blind.

Vince laid back in the grass, possibly to hide his scars, and grumbled, "It WAS fun until you showed up." It was a tiny smack to Nemo's new dark seed, and it sprouted its first arm of root into his soul.

Nemo tossed him twinkling eyes.

"Har har, Vince."

"Nemo," I called, slowly standing while crossing my arms over my chest to cover my gown's thin material. Nemo gave me a frozen, sparkling gaze, and something inside me unsettled. He smiled, but why did it feel like a goblin's claw dove into my throat and gripped my stomach?

"We were just drying off from the lake," I tried, though I wasn't sure why I needed to explain myself. I got lost in a tumble of words, the discomfort never leaving my gut, even when Nemo's smile widened silently.

"Nemo, you didn't miss anything," Bonbon chimed in, back with dresses in her arms.

"We fell in the lake and just drying off," she put out there for me.

I silently thanked Bonbon for showing up like she was watching the whole thing from afar.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Vince pried, standing up with his back clearly away from the others.

Nemo glanced down at all the armor around Vince's feet, kept his thoughts to himself, and returned his light-brown eyes to me.

"I do apologize for intruding, but I've come as a messenger," he replied.

"Vince," he turned to him and said in a chirpy voice, "They expect you at the palace. King Morpheus wishes to speak with you in private."

Vince boiled as he snatched his tunic from Bonbon and quickly slipped it over his head.

"Great," he grumbled, anticipating his punishment.

His tight abs stretched when he stood tall and pulled his clothing down across his body to conceal it.

"Camille," Nemo enquired, and he just took my hand without thought.

"Oh," I was taken aback by his intrusive approach when he looked down at me, smiling.

"You're supposed to show me around the palace. That won't be a problem, will it?"

His hand was firm but not painful. I swallowed, uncertain why I was uncomfortable, but I nodded while avoiding his gaze.

"Yes, of course," I struggled.

Nemo beamed.

"Great! Let's all go back together!"

We started walking back towards the palace, its gardens a little over half a mile away. Vince kept quiet, arms crossed. Bonbon fixed up her tutu and straightened her polka dot stockings. My dress was still drying, but the warm breeze soothed my chilly skin, and my hair was almost dry.

"I don't think we've met," Bonbon began and looked over me to smile timidly at Nemo.

"I'm Bonbon, Camille's best friend. So, if you get between us, it's going to be trouble," she warned and winked at him. I wondered if she was being serious but just hid it well with her charming smile, her natural face more gorgeous without makeup.

Nemo smiled nervously at her, hands to his stomach.

"Ah, no, ma'am. I won't be trouble at all; I guarantee that," he confirmed. Bonbon rammed her hands on her hips while she whipped her eyes to the palace ahead.

"Hmph. We'll see," she muttered, unimpressed.

Nemo didn't react, pretending he didn't hear it when he walked between Vince and me.

"Hey, Vince," he called out to the quiet one.

Vince eyed Nemo cautiously without turning his head.

"Yeah?"

Nemo smirked.

"I want a rematch," he announced. I tensed, and Bonbon's hands curled around my arm. She and I exchanged troubled glances.

Vince closed his eyes with a scoff.

"Sure. Whatever you want."

Nemo pumped a fist, stars in his eyes.

"I will beat you, Vince. The next time we battle, mark my words; I will beat you! And when I do, I expect a prize!"

"Sure. What do you want?"

Nemo didn't even need to pause.

"If I win, I want you to bow to me. I will be your King, after all."

I held my breath and became watchful of Vince. Was he planning to pull out a dagger and cut Nemo's throat with it? Elbow him in the stomach? Bonbon dragged out a long "ummmm," as she awaited Vince's response.

Nemo waited, his coy eyes stuck on the bitter knight until he was given a chuckle. Vince brought his lips to the sky and chuckled some more, a hand on his hip.

"Oh, that is rich," he started, his chest trembling as he breathed through his teeth.

He tossed Nemo a complex, wicked stare.

"Fine. If you beat me in any sword battle, I will bow to you. You have my word," he said dryly with humor, expecting never to do such a thing. It was a tall order, especially for Nemo.

"Good luck, Nemo!" Bonbon chimed in through her giggling. "No one can beat Vince."

"Oh, but I will," Nemo announced, confident. He smirked to himself as though hiding a little secret. No one saw it but me, and I wish I hadn't. I swallowed when I saw it, uncertain if he was being cocky or if there was a hidden motive. His eyes gleamed with something dark, but they faded in a flash. It may have been my imagination. I closed my eyes to reset them and watched the tulips.

Unaware of Nemo's expression or perhaps not taking it seriously, Vince rolled his eyes and turned his attention away with a "hmph."

Nemo lifted a brow at him. "Are you always this...uh...gloomy?"

Vince opened his eyes sharply at the flowers he stepped around.

"Don't talk to me like we're friends," he warned, and his metal foot avoided a tulip. Nemo disregarded the flowers, stepping over them with negligence, and tripped over a bush of lavender.

"Uh, s-sure. Okay," he stammered, collecting his step.

Behind my lips, I clenched my teeth nervously when I felt the dark vibes whirling off the shoulders of both boys. I leaned closer to Bonbon to squeeze her arm nervously.

"Vince, be nice," I reminded him for all of us to hear. His tense aura faded, but he hissed and looked away, his damp cape heavy on the back of his legs.

"Fine," he sighed, hiding his eye roll.

I formed a crooked smile to myself, grateful Vince listens to me occasionally, despite proclaiming he listens to no one.

Nemo noticed my expression and kept his thoughts to himself. It was easy for Bonbon and I to get into a light conversation; Vince was comfortable walking quietly while Nemo tried to butt in, but unintentionally, he was pushed back. Stuck between Vince refusing to speak and Bonbon and I stubbornly keeping our talk to just the two of us, Nemo felt improper.

Like an infestation, another root sprouted.

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