As they walked away from the fallen man, at the corner of Emerelda's eyes Emmett pulled something silver form within his coat. She turned and saw it was a flask. He tipped his head back and drank the substance.
"Dear lord!" Emerelda huffed, "Haven't you had enough alcohol?"
He pulled his hand back to examine the flask, "I had plenty," he agreed.
She tries to reach for it, although he raised his arm above her head, "Uh, uh, uh," He waves a finger, "Oh no Princess, don't touch my flask."
She gave him a look and crossed her arms, "Do you carry that everywhere you go?" she asks.
He took another sip and finally closed the lid tucking it back to its spot, "Actually, I usually do."
She shivers from the cold and stares ahead to the long road ahead of them. The temperature was decreasing drastically the more the night ages. Emerelda wasn't sure what time it was, it seems as if they were in the dark forever. Walking was taking up a lot of their time, and they didn't have all the time of the world.
"Would you like to know something?" Emmett suddenly asks.
"Do tell."
"The flask you saw was my father's."
Emerelda looks at him and he was smiling sadly, "That was the only thing I took before I left to Garlin you see."
"And that bloody piano," he thought.
"I didn't bother with anything else, only the silver flask he would carry almost everywhere he went. I guess I found it appealing after his death due to the reason of the fact he rarely drinks alcohol." He sighs.
Emerelda frowns, "Then why does he carry it wherever he goes?"
He looked at her, "It was because whenever he felt stressed, or triggered, he'll drink the bloody brandy to calm his nerves." He looks away and chuckles, "A habit I've acquired."
She thought back on when he started drinking. It was when he had first come into contact with Mr. Thomas. It also gotten worse the more Mr. Thomas started talking more, especially about his father. Mr. Thomas and Emerelda both knew Emmet was triggered.
"Was your father someone you looked up too?" Emerelda gently inquires.
Emmett laughed, "Oh yes. In fact, most say I am the duplicate of my father…by features, not personality. I was different from my family. Everyone was the light of the room, and I stood outside that light."
"I wouldn't believe it," she smiles, "You seem like one who entertains those around you."
"That was before…" his eyes became distance. His smiled faded, "A long time ago. I even wondered who that person was."
Emerelda looks away. She looked down at her boots, watching them each go back and forth. "I can compare such feeling. I feel as if I found myself in such an odd time."
"After such a traumatized experience," Emmett adds absently, still lost into the past memories. "How was your father? The king seems like an interesting person."
Emerelda didn't look up, "He was an odd man…" she hugged herself, and it wasn't from the cold, "He was…he acted different towards me. I supposed he didn't love me enough and took most of his anger on me…" she blinks away tears and right there and then Emmett shrugs his coat off and wrapped it on top of her shoulders.
"Don't," Emmet says, "Don't say anything else until you heal."
Once they arrived back to the cottage, and Emmett stumbles through the door, Emerelda locked the door and took Emmett by his hand. He drank even more as they continued walking, however after what Emmet had said, no one shared a word. They walked silently, listening only to the soft whispers of the night.
She dragged the murmuring Emmett towards the bedroom, ignoring the fact he might have bumped his leg against a chair.
"Where…where are we going?" Emmett whispers.
She rolled her eyes and pushed him onto the bed. Emmett blinks scratching his head as he sat in the dark room. Emerelda went to the candles on the desk to lit one. She turned around and Emmett was watching her, leaning on his elbows, head turned.
"What is it?" she demands.
"You're an ethereal thing. And yet you're fierce like fire, fire that burns from anger. Your eyes speak pain, it's clear as glass." He nods to the window that was behind her, "Your eyes are the windows of emotion. There are two types of people with their windows; those who aren't able to conceal it from the outside and those who could."
"You're one of those who could conceal it." She said.
"Hmm, so I am. It's all about mastering oneself." He looks away, "I only wanted to say this Princess; Fire may seem dangerous because of the heat it surrounds itself with, although fire is actually life…and all the same, fire could die."
Emerelda didn't move and ponders on that. She didn't understand his point, and yet she still understood what he was trying to say.
She shook her head and went to him, "All I know is that you must stop talking and sleep away the state you're currently in." she stepped in front of him and he looks up, his eyes empty. He wasn't even trying and he stilled pulled the emotionless mask.
"You're a beautiful person Emerelda. The beauty of yours is the one that pierce a young male's heart. It makes one to stop and stare at god's favorite. Since you are made from God and God constructed you, it was right for me to mention that. And since I mentioned it, God constructed you beautiful."
Emerelda sighs, "Emmett, your drunk."
"I may be drunk, and I may have no control over my words however…it doesn't mean what I'm saying is a lie. I'm saying all that is what I believe, and think, and know." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. As soft as a feather, his lips met her pale skin at the back of her hand, ""Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O you. The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss. A dateless bargain to engrossing death.""
"Romeo," She whispers, knowing well where the words came from.
Emmett looked up from his lashes, lips still on the back of her hand says, "I am a pilgrim to thy saint."
"Oh for the love of all gifts," she pulled her hand away and pushed his head back. Effortlessly, he fell backwards on the bed and starts laughing.
"Oh my, are you blushing, Princess? Is it all because of my smooth words taken from Romeo himself?"
Her cheeks were burning, but not from anger but of embarrassment, "Hardly. I apologize to disappoint you, though your charisma has no effect on me. Besides, the last part wasn't from Romeo but yours."
He continues to laugh louder, "I am only speaking the truth Princess!" he raised his arms up, "I speak of the truth and thought Romeo would be the perfect person to assist me."
She went around the bed, "Well, he did a poor job, towards Juliet and you. Romeo in general is a young man who knows nothing but to fall in love for the joy of it." She grabbed the two arms that was moving in the air and with all her strength she moved Emmett's arms to move his body, "All of it ended up killing him, and everyone around them."
She manages to awkwardly make his body face the right way, his head in between the large pillows, his legs pointing to the side. She thought it was good enough and starts to remove his boots.
"Do you really think Romeo is a terrible person?" Emmett asks. His voice muffled from the pillows.
"I didn't say that." She replied, keeping the boots at the foot of the bed, "Romeo isn't a terrible person. He is simply an unintelligent young fellow."
"I agree!"
She rolled her eyes and went over to adjust the pillows that way he wouldn't suffocate. She took the pillows from his face and kept them on his side of his head. There was no way she was going to bother to lift up his head. She however leans down and adjusts his tie to loosen it.
"This is all very sweet of you, Princess." He said and lifts his head, "However I don't seem to be in the need to sleep."
She glares at him, "I do not care. You would not talk to me until you go back to your sober state. You probably won't remember any of this moment, and I would gladly not remind you."
"I would remember." He disagrees laying his head back down again, "I remember almost everything."
"No, I could only disagree." She said backing away towards the door, "Now, sleep."
"Wait."
She stops.
He then again lifts his head, "Where are you going?"
She steps back to the bed, taking her time on how she would answer him, "Um-"
"No," he cuts her off, "No don't leave."
She blinks, "Why not?"
"I am your pilgrim who longs for the presence of a saint."
"Dear lord," she whispers, "My dear Lord."
Emmett laughs, "It gives me such joy to see you fluster. Well, I don't suppose you'd think I'll actually let you sleep on the couch now did you? Come along and lay down. I won't bite."
She tried to find the right words, not believing what she was hearing, "That-this, this is highly inappropriate! What do you take me for? I would not get-" She cut got off.
Emmett reached out and pulled her hand.
She topples onto the bed right next to him. She was flat onto her stomach, her cheeks on the pillow. She gasps and blinks trying to collect her thought as she pushed her hair back and scrambles to sit up, "Emmett!" She yells.
"Yes?" He calmly asks, his elbows propped as he lean onto him palm.
She was breathing hard, her cheeks red, "I-" she couldn't even finish, her heart was pounding hard against her chest.
"Yes?"
"I can't believe you have done that!" She breathes out.
"Oh please, you were talking too much." He took a pillow and set it between the two, "There. And do remove the coat and shoes. Get comfortable." And he turned his back on her.
Without another word, still trying to steady her breathing, she slowly removes her coat and shoes. She dropped them on the floor and got under the covers. She turned her back on his and took another shaky breath.
The last thing she thought was the statement Emmett said. He was right, she was running on anger. That was what motivated her. If that anger is relived, what else would she do next? And her eyes grew heavy before she could have thought of an answer.
Days before the encounter with Emmett Jackson
Emerelda gathered her skirts and followed the butler out of the library. She was previously looking at maps of the city of Garlin. Garlin was a city within what one call Golden Gates, many places abounded and many populated she learnt. She was also connecting the deaths that happened recently. They were all random, nothing at all in common. She figured all deaths might be random.
Once she entered her Fathers study, she prepared the speech she was practicing. She thought if she were to talk with him, it would be now. She didn't have any more time to waste, and she was going to make sure he wouldn't hold her back.
The butler went in, called out who was entering, "Her Royal Highness, Princess Emerelda," and steps out as she went in. The door closed right behind her. She scanned the rooms, heavy red curtains, dark wood, and rows of bookshelves. Usually during these dark times, there were guards near the King at all times, although in the room it sustained only her and her Father.
She stood away from his large desk and waits staring right at him. She used to look down; she used to feel as if she was not worthy enough to look up. However, that was before, things had changed, she had changed, and everything around her had changed, whether anyone liked it or not.
Her father, a broad man with a strong jaw and harden expression glared at her. He had blond sandy hair and crystal blue eyes that painfully reminded of her brother. He wore a long red robe worn by all Kings before him, the front tied with gold chains against his pale throat.
"Emerelda," he said in the same cold voice as always, "I called you to discuss on important matters."
"I can tell." She replied with the same tone.
He raised a bussy eyebrow, "You've grown more comfortable talking in such a disrespectful manner."
She raised her chin higher, "I had matters to discuss with you as well," she didn't let him cut her off, "I would be leaving the castle. And I expect you not to stop me. I'm done with the royal life."
The king leaned forward, large hands clasps on his desk, "Oh? Would this have anything to do with your brother's death?"
She flinches, "This is a personal matter."
The king laughs, "You're not the only one who wants you out. I was arranging you a troop to take you out of Garlin."
She frowns, "For whatever reason?"
"It's dangerous here in Garlin. I lost a child, I won't lose another heir."
She took a deep breath, "That isn't what you think."
"And how would you know? Your gift isn't fully grasped within your hands. You're a broken one, child."
She held back tears, "I'm leaving. I'm leaving you, this place, and everything. I'll leave the troop as we head out of Garlin. Don't bother finding me, and if the time comes, assume I'm dead."
He nods, "Fine, there weren't much of you anyways. If you wish to leave and die in the brutal world of Garlin, then I won't stop you." His blue eyes looked away from her, "Don't come running back when you realized the life out there isn't what you expected."
"You're not going to ask where I'll be heading too?"
"I assume you'd try to find the midnight assassin."
She froze.
He looks back and tilts his head, "That would be suicide."
She turns around and head to the door, "I am done here."
"A king dismiss one, not the other way around." He calls.
"You are not my king," she said pausing as she held onto the door knob, "You're my Father." And she opened the door.
It was the last time she had saw him.