Rhys let his eyes slowly skim around the garden once more, this time much less watching for royals than just taking in the beauty of it all. The fountains, trees, roses. All of it was so close to nature, even if closed behind high walls. It was all besitiful, despite the twisting he was feeling in his stomach. He made sure to turn his gaze to her to see her reaction to his words, a little bit relieved when her smile grew the slightest bit. He was out on a limb here, saying things like this to a royal, but then again... he was going to do some questionable things to make sure she never got hurt by some particular people again. He hadn't really spoken to her about how he truly felt before now, and it was making him the slightest bit worried that she would just suddenly laugh and tell her father everything. He knew she wouldn't, trusted she wasn't that kind of person. Still, he couldn't help it.

.

He also knew he was way out there when he grabbed her hand, but he needed to feel something alive, if it made sense. The warmth of her hand radiated into his own, and he fixed his eyes on hers to watch her while he spoke. The way she whispered his name made him feel almost bad for needing to leave, but he did. Before it was too late. He didn't expect a reply, didn't expect anything...he just needed to tell her. Assure her that no matter what people thought of her, she was a light. He watched those blue eyes, memorized them for a moment more, imprinted them on his mind before he left. If he did die, at least he could see them one more time, even if mentally.

.

Rhys went to his room first, taking the bear claw thin silver chain and draping it over his head before tucking it into his shirt. The familiar cold silver rested against his skin, a slight comfort. He glanced around the barren room before leaving, heading to the last place he should be and where he expected Atius and the king to be. The royal study.

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With each step he took, more anger for Phoebe built up. What the king had undoubtedly done to her, how he knew Atius made her feel day after day. He stored that up and stopped outside the door, hearing two low voices inside. Two he recognized. Shoulders tightening, he opening the door and stalked inside. Immediately, the king and Atius whipped around, absolute shock on their face that he was dare come anywhere near them or the royal part of the castle. They were alone, leaned over papers.

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"Why are you here." The king snapped, trying to maintain an authoritative tone, but a hint of what could've been fear seeped through at the thunderous, dangerous expression Rhys wore.

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"I bet you can guess, king." The words were lethally soft. He chose to leave out the my this time, eyes blackening. "Tell me this, one small thing. How much do you actually care about Phoebe, hm?" He said lowly.

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The king lifted his lip In a snarl. "You want the truth? Fine. I wanted a real heir. All I got was a soft little princess that wasn't interested in anything and wanted to daydream all the time! She's a disappointment, and she can't even find a suitor. Useless." He spat, every word dripping with disgust. "General Atius was the fix to all my problems. If he marries her, she can wander off and die for all I care. He'll be my heir, of sorts. He'll make this kingdom great after I die. We made a pact that he would let me live the rest of my days, so long as he inherited the kingdom afterward. He's everything I ever wanted in a son. And I can tell you all this because you aren't leaving here alive." The king sneered.

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Rhys finally allowed anger and fury to creep onto his expression at these cruel, loveless words. His eyes were cold, like portals into a realm where no one loved or lived. "And Atius, what are your plans for her, since I won't be leaving anyway." He asked with a sour tone.

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Atius smiled in a sickening way. "I'll use her, of course. She'll be like my pet - to fulfill my every desire. And when I'm done? I'll kill her. Because she's just a pawn. Someome to get in my way. I bet you'd love to hear how I'd do it. It won't be fast.... no, I'll make sure to make it slow, painful, and-"

.

The man didn't get another word out. One second Atius was standing there, the next they were stumbling back, a knife buried in their heart. Their mouth gaped open with shock, and they slowly toppled over, life draining from them. No guilt marred Rhys' vision as he stared down at the body. All he had needed was a reason, and he got it. He slowly turned his lethal gaze to the king, who was still minorly shocked. A second later, they pulled themselves out of it and attacked him with a dagger pulled off of the table. Rhys, unarmed now, dove to the side and elbowed the king in the ribs, earning himself a snarl of pain. He felt the dagger sink into his injured shoulder and he hissed lowly, his vision going dark for a moment. He 100 percent would've roared in pain if not for the fact that he didn't want to draw attention to this. He whipped around and body slammed the king back into the wall, fingers clutching their throat and fingernails digging in. "You are a monster." He growled lowly, pulling the knife out of his shoulder and tossing it away. "That's why I can't feel bad about this." The king had started trying to breathe now, eyes bugging out as they writhed against Rhys. He didn't move, jaw clenched. "This is for Phoebe, b-" He didn't get to finish his sentence. Something unexpected happened. The king had another knife. That wasn't good- that was the first thought that ran through his mind as he let go, slowly looking down at his stomach, where all he could see was a handle. He staggered back slightly, then a snarl ripped from his throat. When the king managed to scramble to their feet, gasping, Rhys smashed his knee into their face, the searing pain from the dagger making him go half blind. "You.. may be a predator... but there is always a stronger one." He hissed through gritted teeth before snapping their neck in a single, swift movement. It was them or him... or both, apparently. As he watched the body fall to the ground, he stumbled back against, hand going to the dagger in his stomach. That was bad. Very bad. Adrenaline had kept him from fainting, but it was wearing off, and dizziness was swamping over him by the second. He didn't want to pull it out, for fear he bled out before anyone found him. That was only because of his promise to Phoebe. 'I'll try my best to come back.' He was going to do just that.

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With that in mind, he staggered his way over to the other side of the room, where a thin blanket lay. He grabbed it and gingerly wrapped his fingers around the knife before pulling it out. His knees buckled before he knew what was happening and he almost slammed his head against the wall before saving it, but barely. Breathing coming in ragged gasps, he pressed the blanket again the wound. Apparently the knife had only grazed his shoulder- although it was a deep wound, it wasn't life threatening. Unlike this. All he could think of was that if Phoebe did come around, he did not want her to find him in here with two bodies quickly getting blood everywhere, so... slowly and painstakingly... he dragged himself out of the room, closed the door, and slumped against the wall outside. Rhys was convinced he didn't have the energy to make it further. Spots danced in his vision and he could almost hear his blood gurgling out of him. He just wanted one more look into those eyes, he thought as his head fell back against the wall. One more look.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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Phoebe had remained on the edge of the fountain for a long while, so much so that the sun had fully set and now the stars twinkled above. The sight of the night sky above her, which always seemed to go on for eternity, was a contrast to the uncertainty and fear that was coiled deep in her stomach. It had been not too long since Rhys had left her there by her lonesome, his promise of trying his best to return lingering in her head. She knew he would try, but what if it wasn`t enough? What if she never got to see his smile or his stunning features ever again because she was allowing herself to fret over him from a distance? The thought made guilt twist in her stomach, her eyes squeezing shut as if to desperately eradicate the emotions she was feeling. She tried to persuade herself that Rhys was fine and that he was currently on his way to her, unscathed, breathing, but most importantly alive. Yet.. something did not sit right, especially when she opened her eyes and noticed that the birds had gone quiet.. the crickets had stopped chirping their delicate songs.. and the stars seemed almost dimmer. She was probably imagining things, but she took it as a sign.

Phoebe shifted off of the fountain and bounded up the steps into the dark castle, her steps quick yet not fast enough to be considered a run; the last thing she needed was to draw someone`s unwanted attention, especially if Rhys was definitely dealing with Atius or her father, most likely both. The one thing that was on the forefront of her mind was that smile of his, the genuine and carefree smile that meant the whole world to her. She would do anything to see it again, absolutely anything. With that, she knew she wouldn`t sit around; she would find Rhys and she would not be affected by whatever he had done to them, even if it made her uneasy and scared. Rhys was Rhys, he wasn`t anything else, not even a monster if he had done something that twisted. She had been wandering through the royal side of the castle, glancing to and fro between rooms and hearing desperately for anything that resembled some kind of commotion. Fortunately, she heard a small thump, as if something had fallen.

Phoebe raced down the small hall and took a left, her breath hitching at the sight before her. Rhys was on the ground, using a blanket to clutch at.. a wound. There was blood dripping from practically everywhere, so much so she was genuinely surprised her stomach didn`t protest when she moved even clsoer. It did not help whatsoever that she realized there were two of them, one far more major than the other. She didn`t hesitate to drop down beside him, her touch no longer hesitant as she helped him put pressure on the wound. For the time being, she didn`t say anything, simply trying her best to help stop the bleeding even if she doubted this would be enough. Fear and worry rushed over her as she continued to just- stare at the wound, as if it weren`t real and she was imagining things.

Phoebe didn`t want to admit it nor believe it, but she knew Rhys was fading quickly. One look at the sheer amount of blood staining the floor spoke volumes. Her blue eyes slowly shifted to meet his gaze, her chest tightening at the expression on his face. He was in pain.. a lot of pain. Phoebe took a moment to lift her head and look around, trying to figure out where they were and if she would be able to get help or supplies to fix the profusely bleeding wound. God, she didn`t want to leave him here, especially if.. No, he wasn`t going to die; she would make sure of it.

``Tell me what to do,`` she whispered, her voice strained and revealing the pain she was feeling herself. It hurt her so much to see him like this, as if she were the one to blame. It all started with her father and his mistreatment.. then it was General Atius and it all grew worse from there. If only they hadn`t become close, maybe Rhys would be perfectly fine right now. Even if they were mere strangers, she wouldn`t care as long as he was alive. Her wishes of being friends with him were becoming drowned by her worry and guilt. If he didn`t make it, she wouldn`t be able to handle it. ``And don`t you dare tell me it`s too late.``

Rhys barely even noticed anyone was there till sharp, mind blowing pain electrocuted his very soul as she put pressure on the wound. His head jerked up with a sharp inhale, a slight shudder running through him. "Ow." He weakly mumbled under his breath, a far cry from what he wanted to say, consisting mostly of things that would make a Sailor blush. "Sorry.... about the blood... I know you don't like that...." He muttered lowly, head falling back against as he forced his eyes open to stare at the ceiling. His gaze was glazed over as he fought the pain that threatened to make him want to accept the offer of sleep. It poked at the edge of his mind, whispering that it would feel so much better if he just nodded off. He knew it was a trick, but it was rather convincing.

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When he heard a faint whisper, he lifted his head with sheer force of will, his unfocused eyes finding their way to her panicked ones. He couldn't even muster up a reply till she spoke again, this time a warning. Or a threat. He couldn't really tell. "Pressure... and it... needs to be stitched. Maybe if we seal the opening, the vital organs will at least attempt to stay inside..." He mused lowly, almost smiling despite the situation. "I'll pull through... I said I'd try... for you..." He forced out the words, even though his mouth didn't want to accept the fact it had to form actual words. With a ragged breath, he moved his hand to press on the wound, his other hand trembling at the sheer pain that shot through his body. "Go get a needle and thread, if you can... that'll definitely help..." He felt more bad for the fact he wasn't able to clean up some of the blood, but thankfully she didn't look too freaked out because of that. Just the fact he was slowly dying. That probably freaked her out a smidgen. "Don't worry 'bout me... I'll be fine till you get back." He couldn't promise much more than that, but he offered a faint and hopefully Reassuring smile anyway.

.

Everything ached slightly, but the thing that hurt the worst was the stabbing worry about what she would do if she entered that study, or worse, just what she would do when she found out. How much did they truly mean to her. Even if he knew this was better, would she regret helping him stay alive later? He had her father's blood tainting his hands... literally, this time. The thought sickened him. The thought that she might hate him for what he did. He tried, tried so hard to make it quick and painless, even though he knew they deserved so much worse. He had been tempted to filet Atius alive. She had no idea what he was capable of. Rhys remembered observing the man and thinking that he could sink the dagger right below the knee, causing excruciating pain. He thought about how there were 27 bones in each hand, and how he could break each one separately. He thought about how he could've literally peeled the man's skin off like a fish, and they wouldn't have died right away. If you do it perfectly and everything goes right, a human can survive for a couple minutes without their skin. He would be sure not to break their spine, so they didn't have the relief of being paralyzed. Through it all, he would've probably gouged out the eyeballs first, so they couldn't see what was coming next. Rhys felt a slight shudder run through him as he thought of what Phoebe would think of him if she saw his thoughts. She'd be terrified. But he couldn't think of that now. That would just drive him towards allowing sleep to take him, and that wouldn't be any better for her.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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``I can endure the sight,`` Phoebe mumbled quietly as she continued to press her hands against his wound, her frown unwavering on her face. If she had not been consumed by worry for him, she knew she would have not been able to handle the sight of all the gore that was before her; she figured that the sight in the room he had come from was worse since he was stabbed, but then again.. she didn`t know what he had done nor did she want to know for the time being. All that mattered to her right now was keeping Rhys alive and to treat his wounds, to stop the insistent bleeding that was staining her clothes and his own along with the floor beneath them; the more he bled, the more unlikely he was genuinely going to make it through this.

A small sound of unamusement escaped her when he mentioned that stitches would help keep his organs in place, even if she knew he was right. The last thing she wanted was to watch that happen, especially to him of all people; it wouldn`t happen on her watch. She felt a little reassured when he reminded her of his promise, that he would survive this, even if just for a little longer. A sharp exhale escaped her as she took note of his words: needle and thread, definitely for stitching up the wound. She nodded once in acknowledgement before she hesitantly stood up and glanced around again. The nearest place she could find such a thing was the royals` infirmary, but even that felt a bit too far; in reality, it wasn`t really, she was just going insane with worry. Phoebe looked down at him again, her voice still quiet and concerned, ``You better not be dead when I get back.``

She fully turned in the direction of the infirmary and raced down the hallway, caring far more less if she drew attention now. If she was questioned about what was going on, she could say she had no idea and, technically, she would not necessarily be lying. Phoebe had probably not run this fast in her entire life, her entire being desperate for Rhys to make it through this and survive. She rounded the last corner and burst into the room, barely paying the one or two nurses that were stationed there just in case an emergency had happened. Phoebe glanced between them before she ordered them, her voice lacking the usual softness it had, ``I need a needle and thread. Now.``

``Yes, Princess,`` one of them whispered, dumbfounded and concerned at the sight of her being covered in blood. That one turned and started searching the shelves behind her for what Phoebe asked. The other nurse was looking her over, slowly realizing that it wasn`t her that was bleeding but someone else. Before any questions could be asked, the nurse that had complied handed her the needle and thread. Phoebe let go of the breath she had been holding as she snatched it from her hands, racing out of the room yet still calling a brief word of thanks in their direction. Yeah.. people were gradually going to become more and more aware that something had happened in the dead of night, a time that was supposed to be peaceful and quiet. She could care less, especially since she knew all she had to focus on was getting Rhys patched up. Maybe after that she could take him somewhere no one would check until he rested properly.. her chambers, perhaps?

Phoebe shook the thought away as she finally returned to Rhys` side, kneeling down beside him again and ignoring the blood that was still seeping from his clothing. Her frown returned almost immediately as she threaded the needle, pausing for a brief moment. She met his gaze as she asked a simple question, one that took her back to when he had been injured and she had helped him, ``Want me to stitch you up?``

All she wanted to do was help him and to make sure he survived this. Whatever he had done, she knew they would talk about it eventually, but now was not the time whatsoever. Right now, she needed to get him through this. Besides, she doubted he had done something so terrible that it would scare her off.. There was simply no way Rhys was as bad as her father and Atius, especially when he was the one person that treated her like an actual human being. She waited patiently for him to respond, yet if he denied her.. she would willingly keep maintaining pressure on the wound.

Rhys was glad to be assured that the blood wasn't affecting her too terribly much, definitely not as much as it did when he got shot. So that meant one thing went right. Even though his brain wanted very badly to drift off, he focused on more imminent matters. How much time did he have before he lost too much blood? He was guessing somewhere around ten minutes. If he bled like this for 5-10 more minutes, there would likely be no return. That wasn't a very big window, but with the amount of blood he had already lost and the placement of the wound, it was likely. He had long since decided it didn't hit any vital organs, somehow. It was off to the side more, but that didn't mean he was homefree- but the fact that he wasn't dead yet made him think that something went right.

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He let out a quiet grumble as his delightful joke failed to pull anything but a sound of unamusement from her, knowing it was probably too soon. Because for most people, in the act of dying was too soon for making a joke about dying. What do ya know. He was really just distracting himself by speaking, thinking of anything but the hole in his stomach that shouldn't be there and the blood covering everything. It looked ten times better in the study, actually. The only blood from the king was minor- a mere flesh wound. The snapping of the neck had been clean. Atius would've surely bled more, but they were unscathed apart from the one dagger. Rhys' dagger, that he wished he could have back... that was the one thing he managed to keep from his father. Well, not his biological father, but the person he would call a father. He kind of wished he had used another dagger.

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His eyes flitted up to hers as she quite sternly, yet with a much bigger amount of concern, told him not to do. "I'll do my best, princess." He replied with a faint smirk. He wasn't one for empty promises, so he never promised something he couldn't garauntee. That's why he always said he'd do his best... he might fail. But he would try. He glanced sluggishly at the hallway that she had ran down, then let his gaze drop to the wound. He mineswell gain a little more information. Rhys peeled up his blood shirt, revealing not even a sliver of skin on his stomach because it was all sticky and red. He winced slightly and let his eyes trail to the wound. It must be 4 inches deep- he got lucky. The dagger was small. He watched a bit more blood bubble out before making a face and returning pressure on the wound. This mere act was enough to make him want to accept the kind offer of sleep, but he knew that was death taunting him. Always waiting on his dootstep. He kept pressure on the wound, his shallow breaths barely feeling like they were keeping him alive.

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He was even slower to bring his gaze to her now, every movement requiring so much force. He didn't even know if he had enough willpower to do anything, much less speak. But he would definitely have to do that. "You did such a good job last time, I think you're the person for the job." He managed lowly, a faint joking tone creeping into his voice. That was because right now, so delirious and tired, all of his masks were falling down, leaving just Rhys- and Rhys could never resist making a joke. He had always loved cheering people up with a hearty joke and a grin to go with it. Now, he barely remembered how to grin. Not that he could at the moment, because that would just be wrong. All the walls he had carefully constructed were crumbling around him, all the things he had hidden behind for years were leaving. They couldn't bear the pain. But he could. Just ... him. The kid that had walked ten miles into town and ten miles back just to get his friend a piece of candy for their birthday. One that he stole, but pshaw. The carefree person who had challenged someone to see who could climb the taller tree, then promptly climbed the tallest one and fell out halfway through coming back down, breaking his arm. This person Rhys hadn't even seen himself since he was 9.

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He was forcing himself to continue looking around, or watching her, or even counting bricks in the wall, because he needed to do something with his eyes to keep them open. He was 99 percent sure Phoebe would be very unhappy if he drifted off right now. Seemed like a bad time. He resorted to Biting the inside of his cheek, obviously hard enough that blood trickled into his mouth, but it woke him up slightly. Any small sharp pain that wasn't in his stomach. Something not so drastic and life threatening. Like a paper cut. Those things hurt like the dickens but you'd never die. He should find a way to give himself a papercut. His breathing seemed rockier than before, coming in short, tearing gasps now. He wanted to breathe less to make the pain lessen but the pain was making him breathe more. It was a horrible loop of pain.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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The princess` frown shifted into a small smile, albeit a painful one at his words. It would seem that she had acquired a new skill ever since befriending Rhys: suturing wounds; she hated that she had a small inclination that this would not be the last time she had to do this. Even if he seemed like a controlled, non-violent most of the time, the way he had always protected her proved otherwise and she despised how she knew that this might not be the end of all of this.. chaos and uncertainty. Phoebe still didn`t know what he had done, so she didn`t understand the severity of it all yet. She took in a deep breath before she settled more comfortably beside him, manuevering to get the best angle of the wound that was still bleeding rather profusely. She knew Rhys mattered a lot to her and that was definitely the sole reason she was able to persevere through all the gore before her. Once she felt confident, she started to gently suture the wound, recalling the way he had taught her almost a week ago.. Time had flown by fast, to be honest. She didn`t speak as she worked, paying close attention to every noise and movement of his body; the last thing she wanted was to injure him more or cause him more pain. Silence fell between them as she worked, her hands gentle yet a little hurried since she was desperate to get him all fixed up.

One careful suture followed the next until the wound seemed closed, a sigh of relief escaping Phoebe as she leaned back to check and observe her handiwork. She silently prayed that she had done another good job and that Rhys was all better regarding his bleeding.. It didn`t change the fact that he had lost a rather substantial amount of blood. Her gaze met his and her chest tightened at the sight; he was clearly trying his best not to doze off, especially when they both knew how dangerous it could be.. yet it was the pain that truly bothered her. She silently wondered if there was anything more she could do, even if medicine and anything medical-related were not under her skill list. If only she had paid just a little more attention to the boring lectures the royal doctor had given her whenever she accidentally gotten injured, maybe then she would have some kind of idea of what to do next to make Rhys not suffer as much. Eventually, she decided there wasn`t much more to do, her mind blank as she shifted to lean against the wall beside him. Her mind drifted as she remembered the looks of the nurses she had interacted with; they were definitely alert now.. who wouldn`t be if they saw the princess covered in blood that wasn`t hers.

``What should we do?`` she asked him, blaming her own stupidity for not knowing what to do next. Maybe he needed more medical care and she was oblivious to it.. She cursed mentally at the thought of that being the reality of the situation. She knew that every second they spent sitting there on the cold floor of the castle was another second they could be using to be doing something more beneficial. Phoebe would be lying to herself if she claimed she didn`t want to know what he had done to Atius or her father.. potentially both; she wanted to know just how far he went, even when she was uncertain if she would be able to handle the knowledge. Even if she hated both of them for valid reasons, she was never the type to go to the lengths that Rhys probably would. Murder was not a word in her vocabulary, even if it is indirect. The mere idea of Rhys killing them troubled her, the idea that the man that was gentle and understanding with her was almost.. a monster when it came to anyone that dared threaten her.. it was a foreign one, but just the littlest bit endearing to know there was at least someone out there that cared that much about her.

Phoebe didn`t say anything else as she waited for his response, her gaze soft yet also distracted by her thinking. Even if he had gone to the extent of murder, she knew that Rhys would always be Rhys, the one person that had been her friend despite everything about herself. She subconsciously shifted a little closer to him, her body angled towards his own as the hall remained eerie silent save for Rhys` labored breathing. The halls seemed unfamiliar suddenly, cold and alarmingly isolated in a sense that made her feel like it was just her and Rhys. She lifted one of her hands to reach for one of his own, ensuring that at least one kept the sutured wound covered, before she cradled it in her smaller one. It was similar to the way he had held hers back in the gardens by the fountain, but this time she didn`t hesitate to brush her thumb across his bloodied knuckles in silent reassurance. Hopefully, he didn`t mind the gesture at all; it was innocent and a way to ground both of them despite everything that was unfolding around them.

Rhys was worrying, and it was honestly worse than the pain. The fear that she really would think he was a monster after she figured out what he did was overwhelming, leaking into every thought he had. It would be his fault that she didn't have a father. He didn't feel bad about Atius, but he hadn't meant to kill her father. Hadn't wanted to. Something else could've been done, right? There was always another way. He failed to find it. When the king attacked him, he went into defensive mode... he had just been focused on surviving. After he got stabbed, he had known that it was him or them. And he had promised her that he'd try to come back. So he tried. Should he have? Maybe the king would've changed after their brush with death. Maybe they would've figured that Phoebe really was important. Maybe she could've had a loving father for another 20 years. Maybe he ripped something special away from her without a second thought. But no- this was his thousandth thought about it. He had no end to the thought he was having. Everything was just wrong.

.

He was yanked viciously out of his thoughts as the needle sank into his skin. A hiss of pain escaped him as his jaw clenched. That hurt soooo freaking bad, but he didn't want to do or say anything that would scare Phoebe away. He was already irritated with himself for letting the hiss slip out, and the next time the needle pierced his skin, he only swallowed, eyes closing. He could shove down the pain. If he could do what he had already done, he could shut up and sit still. It couldn't be that hard. Except it was.

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When she finally finished with the stitching, he let out a shaky breath he didn't remember holding, his stomach still feeling like someone was forcibly tearing it open. When she glanced at him, he knew by the look on her face that he didn't look any better than he felt. His eyes were half lidded, head was throbbing, and mind was dizzy, even sitting down. The dizziness would only get worse as his body desperately tried to replace the blood he had lost. His jaw was constantly tight as he tried to keep in the noises of pain he wanted to spew out. His eyes shut for a moment as he leaned his head back again, not trying to speak.

.

Well, until she spoke. Then he knew he kinda had to speak. He peered at the ceiling for a moment as he weighed the consequences, then finally started speaking slowly. "There's nothing much we can do but hope that I didn't lose too much blood. A little later we should clean the wound properly, but there's no reason for that now." He mused lowly. "I don't think I should move yet, though... that'll only cause more internal bleeding." His lips twitched into a small frown at the thought. Internal bleeding was the bane of his existence- he couldn't fix it, but it was deadly. How did that even work. That wasn't really fair- he should be able to fix it. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the walls, his worry growing substantially. Now it had switched back to worry about her and her views of him. Maybe he could haul his sorry butt through the door and drag the bodies out. Seeing it had to be worse than him just speaking, right? But could he muster up the courage to speak? Did any of it even matter? If he didn't survive, he didn't have to worry about it at all.

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When he felt her hand brush against his limp one before picking it up, he pulled himself out of his thoughts, glancing slowly at her. No, he couldn't stay silent. It would hurt both of them more. "They both threatened you, Phoebe. I had no choice." His voice cracked slightly even at those four words. I had no choice. "I- didn't try to, but the king attacked me... I was defending myself..." He seemed to physically wilt. It sounded like a sad excuse. It was true- he had switched to defensive mode almost immediately, but that didn't make it better. His head lowered slightly and he closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry." Rhys finally whispered, a muscle jumping in his jaw. She had every right to hate him. He was a murderer. He had no regret for killing Atius... that he hadn't done on defense. He had done it for her. What the man was going to say- what they did say- it had hit somewhere that triggered Rhys. He promised to protect her, and that was truly the only way. But did her father really deserve to die? Even such a painless death? Would he be able to bear seeing the queen mourn? Would he ever recover from this? His mind felt like a magic 8 ball. Not clear. Not clear. Not clear. Over and over. No yes or no. He just didn't know. He never knew.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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Phoebe had remained immersed in her own thoughts until Rhys responded to her question, her frown deepening at his words. She had nearly forgotten about internal bleeding and how fatal it truly was, another indication of how little she did know outside of politics and reading a battle map; it was a little saddening, to say the least, especially when she had tried her utmost best to learn more than what her parents and other mentors had forced onto her. Truly, she should have listened to the royal doctor`s lectures whenever he tended to the wounds she earned, even including the most traumatizing one that was a result of the assasination attempt all those years ago. Regardless, she nodded in acknowledgement of his words before leaning further against the wall, the brief silence incredibly heavy over them. She continued to hold his hand, even when his voice disrupted the foreboding quietness of the hallway they were in once again. A plethora of emotions rushed through her as he spoke, realization slowly dawning on her: Rhys had murdered- no.. killed- General Atius and her father. It was simply impossible for her to truly grasp the reality of in a mere few seconds, let alone a few minutes, so it wasn`t surprising that she went still and quiet, contemplating everything he had told her.

Phoebe knew she had told him to try his utmost best to make it out alive, to return to her in one way or another, yet.. a part of her hadn`t expected him to go to such an extreme. She had already presumed he would do more than just harm General Atius, but her father.. she didn`t know how to feel or what to say. The king had been a revered and respected man for a plethora of reasons, but everyone also knew that he considered Phoebe nothing more than a pawn in his game, a trophy to shine and flaunt whenever he had a gathering. She was his one and only pride and joy, but not in the way a father saw his daughter, but as a manipulator saw his prey. The king had molded her into what he wanted until the assasination attempt singlehandedly ruined everything he had been working on; traumatic events always ruined everything.. no shocker there. Before she had become flawed and imperfect in his eyes, he had truly loved her behind closed doors and away from the other royals. He treated her like a daughter, like the heir that would continue his legacy and make the Nightlingale Family even greater than it currently was. Of course, that was how manipulation worked and Phoebe had fallen for it until it all truly went south. She knew, even if she had never taken such a drastic turn, her father would`ve sent her off to General Atius, no matter how much she pleaded or begged for a different suitor- a different lifetime partner.

Rhys had said that he had done it out of defense, which meant her father and the General had both attacked him. She couldn`t be angry or hate him just because he was defending himself; she would have fought back if she had been in his shoes.. she always had, anyways. Phoebe knew that Rhys wouldn`t have gone out of his way to kill her father and that was precisely why she didn`t feel any hatred or anger towards the man that was in pain right beside her. Any daughter would have felt upset and miserable in her shoes, but she didn`t; she simply felt shocked and uncertain, as if there were a plethora of factors forming the way she was currently feeling towards Rhys. Truth be told, he had saved her from her father`s seemingly eternal and neverending mistreatment, spared her the pain of being married to a man that only wanted to use her until he had his fill. In a twisted sense, Rhys was her savior, the one that had kept her safe from the people that wanted her to suffer and be miserable for the remainder of her life.

``You did what you had to do,`` Phoebe began, her frown shifting into a more neutral expression. She allowed silence to build between them as she looked over at him directly, her hand refusing to let go of his unless he decided to yank his back towards him. However, her gaze did drift towards the sight of their hands together, her heart warming just a little despite the circumstances. Even if she had lost her father and even if the General was dead, and it had all been because of Rhys, she was grateful and pleased to know that he was right here with her, alive even if he was injured and in pain. ``Of course, I need to process everything, but I could never be upset with you. After all, you`re the only one that kept his promise to me.``

Once she was finished speaking, she looked over at him again to analyze and watch his reaction to her words. At the end of the day, he had done what he believed was best for her, so she could never be angry with him. Besides, her father had been a monster to not only herself, but the servants as well. Rhys had probably solved a lot of people`s problems by killing both of them, even if he was her father. It was dismaying, yet hopeful at the same time: she still had her friend, the one person that ever showed they cared for her, while the two men that had always gone out of their way to make her suffer were gone.. forever.

Even after speaking, his heart seemed to slowly be imploding inward on itself. He... he could've found another way. He could've tried harder. He could've let the king kill him. Anything. Anything but doing what he did. A memory came crashing back into his mind, forcing itself in.

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He was a mere 12 years old. Sheer terror coursed through his veins as he clawed his way through the house, hearing his father's drunk and angry screams behind him. He slammed the door to his room, hands shaking so much that he could barely lock it. He bolted to the window and tried to open it, but it was stuck. Desperation molded his features as he pounded on the glass. Just as he wheeled back to grab his knife to smash the window, the door came crashing down and his father loomed in the doorway. Aaron Danger was a terrifying man, standing at a looming 6'3, with broad shoulders and strength beyond many people from their job as a blacksmith. "Boy, I'll kill you this time. I'll make sure you never smile again. You don't deserve to smile." The man snarled. The 12 year old boy whimpered in fear, shrinking back. He had blood pouring from a couple wounds already, his eye swollen shut from being hit... over and over. His heart wanted to thump out of his chest as they advanced. In a second, he felt the first blow snap his neck to the side. He crumpled on the ground, tears dripping down his cheeks. It took till the 23rd blow that he lunged in sheer will to live. His dagger found their throat, somehow. The man he had called father staggered back, eyes wide as blood splattered over the ground. Then they toppled over with a loud thud. Now sobbing, Rhys didn't hesitate before stumbling out the door, dagger clutched in hand that he had pulled from his father's body. He just ran, ran from the life he had been given and from the place he had called home.

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When the memory faded, when he felt like he could breathe again, he was so much worse off than before. That was the first time he had killed. Blood had crusted around his fingernails and coated his skin. He had scrubbed it in a nearby creek, so hard that he rubbed his skin raw and he started bleeding again. His tears had mingled with the blood at the realization of what he had done. He had taken a life. Ended someone's existence. That's when his heart truly grew cold. It was them or him. It was always them or him. For years. A mere week later, he had killed someone else to not get shot- he had stolen a single piece of bread and the shop owner had the gun pointed at his head, cocked and ready to shoot. It was them or him. It was always them or him.

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A shudder that had nothing to do with the pain ran through him. Maybe he should've stopped fighting. Should've chosen the him instead of the them. The king had to have loved her at some point. They could've changed. They could've loved her again. And he made sure that didn't happen. He was a monster- he said them or him, but he never hesitated to make it them. His throat seemed to constrict at the thought, breathing even more shaky than before. Them or him. Right? Or was everything he ever thought wrong.

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The way she stilled was even worse, pain lacing through his entire being that had nothing to do with the wound. This was incomprehensible grief, stacked up from years of just surviving. Doing all it took to survive. All it took. A monster. A selfish monster, at that. Them or him, and somehow, he was always more important. What made him more important than any of the lives he had taken. Why did he always choose him. He could've let the king sink that dagger a little farther up, could've let himself rest for once. He would always be happier, no matter what happened after death. His life was hell, so why did he take others. This time, it was for a promise. One he could've broken to hopefully give her something she needed more. He was like a poison... if she stayed around him for too long, she'd end up getting sick. Maybe he needed to stop himself just like he stopped them.

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He didn't even register her words at first, but even after he did, he didn't give any sign that he did. It didn't matter. Inside, she was hurting. He was hurting her. He had hurt her. Done the thing he convinced himself he was stopping others from doing. His heartbeat felt faint, dull, like he shouldn't keep fighting, and it knew it. His eyes weren't fixed on anything, really, but his gaze was turned towards the ground. Again, he didn't react to her next words, but they lingered in his mind a little longer. He had kept his promise, but at what cost. Sometimes it was better to break trust and have them be safe than to keep a promise.

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That night, it wasn't the physical pain that caused a singular tear to slip down his cheek, but the memories of his whole life and everything he had done. What had he ever done to help. He hadn't ever added anything good to this world. He had only removed things. Things that mattered to someone. People had families. He hurt countless people. Whether they knew or not. All for himself. All to protect his own messy life, one that wasn't worth living. He felt the slight tickle of the tear rest of his chin for a couple moments before slowly falling off and soaking into his shirt, leaving a slightly darker spot on the part that wasn't hopelessly soaked with blood. This wasn't even about just now anymore. Apparently his mind decided this was a good time to have a crisis, whether it be midlife or end of life.

Phoebe Nightlingale

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Phoebe did not enjoy the silence that prevailed over them after she had spoken, the uncertainty and guilt that weighed between the both of them almost as heavy. She had expected at least some kind of reaction, whether it be one she aspired to see or one she would dread to have to watch slowly unfold on his face. Regardless, it was the silence that killed her the most. She figured that he was aware that even she was still in pain due to the events that had unfolded, that even though Rhys had killed a man that had manipulated her ever since she was a little girl, that man had still been her father, whether either of them liked it or not. She didn`t know what to say or do to make any of this better, especially when she knew that things would certainly go downhill from here; God, she hadn`t even considered it until now that she would probably have to wear the crown since her father was now forever gone. The mere idea of her ruling.. it was one she never entertained. Phoebe wasn`t a ruler by any means, always being a woman that was secretly a lost, little girl beneath that tough and confident facade she often wore around others. It was only Rhys that knew the real her, the one that had been so desperate to be cared for and protected.

The princess sighed as she relaxed a little, shoving away her temporary thoughts to focus on Rhys. She looked over at him and she felt as if her world had ended then and there at the sight of that small, singular tear falling down from the corner of his eye. She was helpless and at a loss for words as she watched it travel further and further down, eventually landing on his bloodied shirt. Never had she expected to see Rhys of all people cry, let alone shed a singular tear that spoke volumes about how he was feeling. Phoebe wanted to say or do annything to make him feel better, but she simply didn`t know what to do; she had no idea what he was thinking nor why he was thinking it, and it was slowly tearing her apart inside. She exhaled as she tightened her grip on his hand, lifting her other one to do something- anything- to comfort him or at least ease the weight on his shoulders, but she froze awkwardly. It was a consolidation of her not knowing how to touch him and her being afraid her touch would worsen whatever was going on. The last thing she wanted was for him to retreat into himself and never open up to her again. She couldn`t.. lose him like this; if she did, she knew it would be far worse than him being killed by her father and General Atius.

``Rhys..`` she whispered his name, pausing as her words died on her tongue. Phoebe didn`t know what to say or do, truly; she usually was good at comforting and reading people, but now.. she didn`t know anything. Whatever she was going to do, she knew she had to be gentle and understanding, especially since she didn`t want him to build up his walls and force her away. She feared that far more than anything else and she couldn`t afford to lose him like that. Another slow, unsteady exhale escaped her before she shifted closer to him, letting go of his hand to instead somewhat awkwardly wrap her arms around him; her touch was gentle, so much so that she hoped it didn`t make the wounds on him hurt even more. She had never willingly hugged someone because she cared enough to do so, yet here she was. Her touch remained hesitant and uncertain, touching him but not.. fully. Rhys could easily retract from her loose embrace if he wanted. She just felt so helpless, but she had figured that hugs usually helped in these situations; whenever she felt as lost and uncertain as Rhys had looked, she definitely would not have minded a real, genuine embrace.

``You`re thinking too much,`` Phoebe didn`t care if she was overstepping right now, because she would never forgive herself if he slipped away from her like this. She hoped her touch and voice was enough to get him out of whatever haunted mindspace he was currently in, praying to whoever was listening that he would simply rest and focus on what was happening now.. on her. Phoebe leaned more against the wall so her cheek pressed against it, her face slightly downturned and her hair shielding her peripheral vision. She cursed herself for not knowing what to say now of all times. ``Everything.. will be fine. It may not seem like it now, but it will be.``