The Light Returns [Solo]

Laughter echoed throughout the empty, quiet streets. It was night now and Peter was riding on the extra horse brought in by the Run Knight and his colleagues. "Ahaha! Did you see their faces, Iago?! It was priceless!" Peter had to hold onto the horse to keep himself from falling off. He hadn't laughed that hard since... Well, since long ago. He glanced at Iago, the Run Knight who had taken him away from the slums. Peter remembered thinking that Iago should have been considered his "best friend" instead of Spitfire, but he had never felt the same respect or mutual understanding with him. He didn't mind talking and joking around with Iago. They both had similar taste in humor, a crude and sadistic one at that. But Peter felt they were too alike in that aspect.

"I know!" Iago agreed just to Peter's left. He too was trying to keep himself from falling to the ground. "I swear, I don't think I could have kept myself from laughing. It was just too good! Your best performance yet." He sent a grin to Peter and burst out laughing again.

Peter laughed with him, but thought quietly to himself: This is probably why I cannot connect with him. His grip on the reins tightened as there was a painful lurch in his heart. He does not see me as an equal nor a friend. Just a simple companion who he can look up to and share the same sick, sick hobby - seeing the suffering and pain of people. But unlike him... I am a Monster. Iago is merely a small imp wishing to become a demon.

"Oh god... Oh geez! Man, how do you think Ashur would have reacted? Self-righteous loser probably would have puked at the sight of it. All talk, no game. Right, Peter?"

Of course... Iago is still smarting from how I favored Spitfire more than him. Not to mention that Spitfire was far superior to him in every way. Heh. What a fool you are Iago. A waste of space fool. Despite the words forming in his mind Peter chuckled and nodded his head. "Yes. Quite right you are," Peter grinned before staring up at the looming castle. It remained the same. The flower beds that lined and covered the entire grounds of the castle were the same as if he had never left. "We're here. Finally..."

Iago had the foot soldiers take their horses to the stables as he and Peter made their way up the castle and into the residential guest towers. Peter wouldn't be given back his previous room until his banishment would be officially lifted. "Alright. It's time to hit the hay, Peter. I'll see you tomorrow when you don't stink like a dead skunk, yeah? Haha!" Peter snickered at his teasing but felt an overwhelming sense to choke the knight. "Of course. I'll see you then Iago."

The heavy, wooden door closed with a resounding click.

Peter waited until he was sure that he could no longer hear the echo of Iago's footsteps before letting out a hysterical laugh. He looked up towards the high ceiling, decorated with the finest of tapestries, and cackled in the large bedroom. He was back! The puppet master has returned! "I can't believe it... After five humiliating years in the streets... I'm back!" Peter whispered harshly to himself, breathing fast and trying to catch more air to help him recover from his insane bout of laughter.

With a light head Peter stumbled in the direction of the bed and collapsed onto its soft and enveloping folds.

It was bright. Like coming out of a dark abyss and stepping out, it was bright. Soft but blinding. And warm. It was warm too.

There were several thuds against the door that roused Peter. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Noisy... He thought as he worked his mouth to respond to the servants. Insolent worms. So early in the morning... How dare they. Peter opened the door and put on a pleasant face. Start it off nice. Innocent. They won't suspect.

"Good morning. Is it time to meet with the King? Or for breakfast?"

The ladies in waiting were surprised. They remembered Peter and how immaculate his appearance had always been. Two of them recoiled, not used to him being so... Dirty. Tainted. And the stench! It made them want to empty their stomachs. They wanted to run away but his gentle smile and deepened voice wrapped themselves around their bodies, effectively trapping them. No doubt his looks were still the same - too pretty to be a boy and just a tad bit too masculine to be a girl. But it was muted and dulled like a rusted jade jewel or a diamond in need of polish. And that was their job today, to rediscover Peter Endless and to make him presentable to the King.

"Good morning, Mr. Endless," they chorused and bowed their heads just a bit as they were taught. Then they parted like the Red Sea and flanked him as he stepped out of the room.

"Your schedule states that you will be having a bath first," Said one maid as she read off of a document. "Then you're off to have brunch with Sir Iago in the garden. I think you'll have some free time before the King summons you to the throne room."

Peter hummed and glanced at either side of him, wanting to smirk and sigh at the same time. While he delighted in seeing the women scrunch their nose at his horrid smell, he too was disgusted with himself. I should have taken a bath last night. This is humiliating. Looking and stinking like an outsider. A piss-poor commoner. The dirt and the grime on his body could be felt with the slightest of movement. Focusing on it now, Peter swore he could hear the little grains crackle against each other. There was a pounding in his head now. His current state of dress was becoming unbearable. Peter quickened his pace, following the map in his mind. That was the amazing thing about his eidetic memory. He could still recall things in the finest of detail after years of being away.

The maids had to subtlety pick up their skirts and chased after Peter. Once in the washing room they, at once, began turning the knobs and preparing for Peter's cleaning. Steam rose from the wooden tub as hot water poured into it in full force. Towels were piled and placed within reaching distance while on a side-wall bench were robes. From a glance Peter knew that they were made of pure silk. But that was just an outward appearance. It was possible that some idiot had lined the inner robe with some low grade fabric, which was unacceptable.

"The bath is ready, Mr. Endless."

About time! Did they think that they could slack off simply because my banishment has not yet been lifted? Are they thinking --- No, no. They're simple servants who know no better. Peter took a deep breath and smiled graciously at the huddle group by the door. "Thank you for your services, Ladies. Dismissed." They bowed and retreated, leaving him in silence. Peter dropped his mask and snarled. He viciously tore off his dirty clothes and slipped into the steaming, hot water, not at all minding how it scorched at his skin.

It burned. The dirt and grit on his skin burned as they came near his eyes. But the pain was fine. In fact, he welcomed it just a bit. To Peter, it meant that the previous five years living in the streets were being cleansed. All his degradation was coming to a close with a simple bath. Hah! To think it was that simple was laughable. Nothing was ever that simplistic and basic. Never. If it was so, then he would not have been banished from the castle. Not even that. He would have not been found out by Valerie and he would not have had to kill her.

Her long, soft hair.

Her bright, eager eyes.

Her blossoming, pink lips.

Her high-pitched, painful scream.

Her blood, thick and red with life.

Her death had been fulfilling and heartbreaking.

She was beautiful.

Shaking himself from his memories, he looked at the water that surrounded him. He noticed the little salt pebbles beneath his feet. They were meant to help with the cleaning process by adding to the exfoliation as well as the "bath experience." At least, that's what he had heard before from an old maid. Shrugging, he submerged his entire body into the water whilst scrubbing his hair in the sweet smelling shampoo. The scalding heat was beginning to wane as Peter felt his body adjust to the temperature. Once he was sure that his skin was free of any dirt, oil, and grime he stepped out of the tub, letting the water pool at his feet.

Not at all mindful at his state of undress, Peter started to dry his hair while walking over to the large window that overlooked the north-western part of the back gardens. As always, it was a work of art. The grass were a deep green that indicated it was feeding off rich, moist soil. Even in the distance, where bushels of red and white roses were planted, the flowers were vivid and poised as they can be. It was a beauty that Peter missed. Back in the dirtied streets and shady alleys of the slums, all he saw were incurable diseases that were just waiting to drop dead.

His sharp gray eyes caught a minuscule movement from below. Curious, he watched the proceedings as a round table was put out before a large umbrella was staked in the middle, obviously through the pre-made hole. From what Peter observed, he suspected that it was the brunch with Iago being prepared. Ah, speak of the devil. There he was. Iago, dressed in the ever impressive uniform of the King's Rune Knights, strode out into the garden and began ordering (Peter was assuming) the servants what they will be having.

"Hm... I suppose it's time," Peter smirked and walked from the clear glass.

"Ugh. I do not understand the current fashion at all," Peter grumbled as he carefully removed the top off his body, again. He stared at the clothing in his hand, eyes narrowing at it. It had seemed like any other regular top, but it was riddled with buttons and clasps that he was not accustomed too. Quite infuriating really. And while Peter was not a man to be blaming his misfortune on others or certain events, he was extremely close in pointing his finger at his previous predicament - the five years spent in the slums.

He sighed as his memories continued to harass him. The loud screams of abused women. The stench of rotten corpses. The dirt and oil sticking to his skin. Everything was seeping back to those days. Peter bit his bottom lip hard, though didn't draw any blood, and threw the shirt aside. He will simply go without it. Within a few seconds he was fully dressed - pants, shoes, and an outer robe that was similar to his old one. Peter judged his reflection at the full-length mirror and nodded in approval. At least they had some semblance of taste in color.

Just like a few hours ago, Peter easily made his way out of the castle and to the back gardens. "Iago," he nodded to his acquaintance as he took a seat and tried not to gobble everything on the table. It would be unsightly of him, the Holy One. His movements weren't hurried as Iago seemed to be looking for as he stared anxiously at his figure. Peter didn't mind the attention. It just meant that he shouldn't deprive the desires of the people to gaze upon him. Ah, and to be perfect as always. Silence reigned for ten minutes while Peter, with almost impossible manners, finished his plate of food.

"Is there anything you wish to discuss with me, Iago?" Peter peered over the rim of his tea cup to glance at the Rune Knight. As always, he wanted to seem untouchable and unreachable even if he had been thrown to the ground, only to rise again like many saints have done. His silver orbs pushed and prodded at Iago, gently but firmly, to answer him. "Despite having a considerable amount of time left before my meeting with the king, I would like to arrive early to greet him cordially."

"A-Ah... Of course. It's nothing really Peter. And I just noticed but..." Iago carefully placed his cup back down to the table and pointed towards his chest with a confused expression. Peter fought the blush and pushed it aside, clearing his throat at the sudden and surprising question. "An odd question to be asking me Iago, but if you must know the shirt was atrocious. I do not think it suited me well either. Anything else? I'm hoping to leave now."

Peter stood without waiting for a reply and dusted off the non-existent dirt on his robes. Iago let out a small chuckle before shaking his head, "No. No. Go ahead and meet the king. I heard he was excited to see you again. You are one of his favorites." Peter felt a surge of anger wash over him, causing the muscles in his right arm to twitch. "Ahaha! Don't be spreading those lies, Iago. It isn't becoming of a knight such as you," he mocked before leaving his presence.

Shuffle. Tap. Shuffle. Tap. Shuffle. Tap.

In the empty, silent air was a ripple of movement. Cloth whispered quietly as they flowed in-sync with its conductor. As usual, Peter's hearing was sharp and noticed the most minuscule of details. He kept his expression as indifferent as possible, though it wasn't too hard. Back in the streets he had learned to keep a tight lid on his facial emotions and physical tells. Every beating he took made him more determined to shut down his feelings. If he was going to survive he had to learn all there was to learn, no matter how useless it seemed or how it was beneath him to plead for his life. Some times he wondered if his acting skills were so great that he believed it himself.

"And so the Holy One is a liar that lies even to himself," Peter couldn't help but snort. "Not so Holy if he's constantly sinning with every word he says." He shook his head slowly from side to side. Now he was talking to himself. Wasn't that sad? "Is this my punishment?" His voice bounced against the stone walls, repeating his question. "How should I know? It's not like I chose to accept and receive it." Peter stopped his walk and placed a hand on his forehead. His lips moved but it was hard to hear what he was mumbling underneath his breath. "I'm doing it again. Talking to myself." A sigh passed through his lips. "I'm really losing it. Losing my grasp on reality... Nevermind. Shut up. I need to see the King. It will not do if I'm late. It would be a disgrace upon me and my father. No. He doesn't deserve that title. Idiot."

On his way to the king's throne Peter clenched and un-clenched his hands, hoping to keep himself occupied and anchor him to the real world. Or is it really? Maybe it's a dream within a dream. And even so... I cannot escape because that dream is also within another dream. It continues on until I lose myself in it. My current predicament is a paradox. How... fitting. I'll just run around in circles like a headless chicken. A dull pounding started softly at his temples before it increased and spread throughout his head. Enough. I'm here. Peter nodded to the guard without sending a single glance. He was inferior and didn't deserve any "real" acknowledgement from him.

The door closed with a loud click behind him. It forced him to, in a way, move forward until he was kneeling before the King of Fiore and his asshole of a foster father. He kept his head down as the rules of the castle (and of all royalty) decreed. "My king. I have come as you commanded." The word humiliating kept repeating in his head as he waited for the king to address him. There was a stretch of nothing but the inhaling and exhaling of the individuals. Peter could feel the monster inside him stir. His temper was rising. He won't be able to hold it. Say something you imbecile of a king before I rip you to shreds! His breathing was slightly becoming more shallow as the seconds passed. Peter scrunched his eyes closed, praying that he could suppress the demon within him.

"You're five minutes early Peter," the king's voice had a light and amused tone. Peter took his statement as a sign to raise his head. Silver hit hazel. He remained quiet, unsure if he was allowed to speak. Taking a chance Peter spoke clearly, "Is that unusual, Sire?"

There was a chuckle and a rustle of silk against silk. "Haha! Possibly, considering it is you. If I do recall, you always came exactly at the time appointed. Never a minute too late or too early."

Peter was taken aback though it didn't show. "I suppose..." He paused to choose his words. "I suppose I've changed my King. And I've learned a lot of things outside of the castle."

"Oh? Well then! This is a good opportunity for you. I need someone to travel all over Fiore and see how my kingdom is doing. This will give you a chance to expand your knowledge. I remember you always loved to read and learn."

"Y-Yes... Yes, I do my King." Peter didn't know whether he was upset and angry, or thrilled and excited. "I suppose I should leave soon then."

The king nodded and smiled at Peter, happy that he was killing two birds with one stone. "Of course. Oh, and I'm sure you already know but I'd like weekly or bi-weekly reports from you."

The Dark mage nodded. That assignment was a given. Anyone who didn't think that they would not be sending detailed reports to the king was an idiot.

"Well now that we're done, you're dismissed." The king waved his hand as if he was giving permission to his child to explore.

He took a bow and began making his way towards the now opened door. But before he could exit, the king hollered, "Oh! And Peter? Why don't you go find Spitfire too! I believe he'd be excited to see you."

His entire body frame stiffened at his previous friend's name. Collecting himself, Peter looked over his shoulder and responded right back at the king, "If that is what you wish my Lord."

By the end of the afternoon Peter was packed and ready for his journey around Fiore. His first stop was Moriyama, located west of Crocus. He doubted Spitfire would be there and that relieved a certain amount of pressure and stress off of him. Peter was determined to prolong their reunion as much as possible.