Heaven isn´t quite what it seems

They reached the Eastern Territories, known for their long-standing cultures, structured societies, and skilled populations. They also traveled to the Southern Territories, where the land was rich in natural resources and the populations were spread across different regions, less unified against outside forces.

In the beginning, relationships were built through exchange. Goods, spices, fabrics and metals moved between regions.

But the Central Lands had more power, more ships, more weapons, more coordination. And over time, that imbalance became impossible to ignore to them.

Trade shifted into control. Control turned into occupation.

The Central Lands began placing themselves in positions of authority within these regions. Agreements stopped being mutual. Local leaders were replaced, pressured, or forced into cooperation. Military presence increased, and resistance was met quickly and decisively.

Once control was established, the purpose changed, and they took what they needed.

From the Southern Territories, that meant labor, and large numbers of people were captured, transported across the sea, and used for work, farms, construction, mining, and anything that required physical strength and endurance. Entire communities were broken apart in the process, and who tried to resist, was killed.

From the Eastern Territories, the approach was slightly different, but still rooted in control.

People were taken there as well because they also wanted servants, attendants, workers within noble households that they didn't want to pay. Others were chosen based on appearance, education, or skills. They were brought into the Central Lands and integrated into systems where they had no real control over their own lives.

In both cases, the result was the same.

People became property.

The Central Lands built their wealth on this system. It wasn’t hidden or considered controversial within their own society. It was regulated, structured, and accepted.

Markets existed where people were sold. Laws were written to define ownership, and status determined everything: where you lived, what you could do, and whether you had any rights at all.

Over time, this way of living became normal.

Generations grew up believing that the Central Lands were meant to lead, and the other territories were meant to serve. Differences in culture and origin were used as justification. It wasn’t questioned often, because the system benefited those in power.

At the center of it all were the royal courts.

They held the most influence, the most wealth, and the most control over how this system functioned. Decisions made within those walls affected entire regions, even if the people making them never left their own cities.

Among these courts, one kingdom stood out.

It was known for its wealth, but also for how openly it participated in these practices. Ships arrived regularly at its ports carrying people taken from the Eastern and Southern Territories. Some were sent elsewhere. Some were sold. And some were brought directly to the palace, who always needed workers (slaves) there.

It was in this system that a young woman from the Eastern Territories was taken from her home and brought to the court of a king that just needed to ask what he wanted and obtained it.

Reika had been eighteen when they took her.

Her village stood near the edge of the eastern territories, not very large, not very wealthy, but stable in the way places become when people learn to live with what they have. The houses were built from wood and stone, roofs curved slightly to let rain slide off easily, narrow paths connecting one home to the next.

Life there wasn’t easy, but it was predictable. People worked, ate, slept, and repeated the same rhythm every day.

Reika had grown up in that rhythm.

She helped her mother in the mornings, carried water, prepared food, cleaned. Some days, she had the privilege to go to to the village's school and when she couldn't, she studied at home, because it was something she enjoyed. In the afternoons, she would sometimes walk beyond the edge of the village where the land opened into fields and low hills, where the air felt wider and less confined. She didn’t think much about the outside world. News of distant lands and foreign powers existed, but it always felt far away. Like something that belonged to other people.

Until it didn’t.

The first sign was the sound. And too many horses.

By the time anyone understood what was happening, it was already too late.

They came fast, organized and armed in ways no one in the village could match. Doors were broken open, people dragged outside, voices rising into something panicked and chaotic.

Reika remembered her mother grabbing her wrist.

Running, but not fast enough.

She remembered being pulled away, fingers slipping, the sound of her name shouted behind her. She remembered turning, trying to reach back, and the force that stopped her, hands gripping her arms too tightly, bruising.

After that, everything blurred together.

Rope. Dust. Crying.

They weren’t the only ones. Other villages had been taken too. By the time they were gathered together, there were dozens of them. Maybe more. Men, women, some barely older than children.

No one explained anything.

The journey was long. Days, maybe weeks. Time stopped meaning much when everything felt the same. Food was minimal, and water was rationed. Anyone who slowed too much was dragged, or worse, left behind.

Some people stopped crying after a while.

Reika didn’t remember when she stopped speaking. At some point, the words just… disappeared. There was no one to answer them anyway.

By the time they reached the capital, she barely recognized herself.

The city was overwhelming, large and loud. She saw stone buildings, wide roads and guards everywhere.

They weren’t taken through the main streets, but brought in through the back.

Like cargo.

Eventually, they were herded into a large enclosed space within the castle grounds. Not quite a room, not quite outside, just a place to hold them.

That was where they were sorted.

One by one, they were brought forward.

Inspected.

Not as people.

Reika stood in line, her hands bound in front of her, her body tense. She kept her gaze low because looking up felt dangerous.

She could hear voices ahead of her, of men discussing and deciding.

Some were taken away quickly. Others stayed longer.

When it was her turn, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her forward.

“Look up,” a voice said.

She didn’t.

The grip tightened.

“Look up.”

So slowly, she did.

And that was when she saw the king for the first time in her life.

King Reginald stood slightly apart from the others, dressed in deep colors, fabrics layered and detailed in a way that made it impossible to mistake his status. He didn’t move like the others and didn’t speak like them either.

He just watched.

His gaze settled on her, making her feel uncomfortable and then he stepped closer.

Close enough that she could see the sharpness in his expression, and also to notice he was not much older than her.

“You understand me?” he asked.

She nodded once.

That seemed to satisfy him. His gaze lingered a moment longer.

Then, simply, “This one stays.”

Just like that.

A decision made in a second that would define everything that came after.

Another voice asked something, “what about the rest?”

The king didn’t even look away from her when he answered.

“Sell them.”

She understood that they were being sent somewhere else, somewhere worse, and she didn’t know why she had been chosen.

And just like that, she found herself trapped inside a place that didn’t belong to her.

And somewhere in the castle, beyond walls she would never see again, the rest of the people she had arrived with were being taken away.

Sold. Disappearing into a system that didn’t care if they lived or died.

She never saw any of them again.

---

Reika didn’t fully speak their language.

At least, not the way they did.

She could understand most of what was said around her now, enough to follow instructions, enough to move through the castle without constantly second-guessing herself. But when it came to speaking, something always slowed in her mind before the words could come out properly.

At her home, she had studied.

Not formally like the children of wealthier families in the central regions or the richest parts of her own country, but enough to read, to write, to recognize the structure of the language used by traders and officials who occasionally passed through their land. It had been considered useful and practical, something that might help her find work, or at least avoid being completely dependent on others outside her village.

Back then, it had felt like a small advantage. Something to be proud of, even.

Now, it only meant she wasn’t completely lost.

She understood the essential things, orders, names, basic questions and warnings. Enough to survive.

The days that followed didn’t feel real at first.

Reika moved through them like someone else was living them for her. She was given a place to sleep, small, shared with other workers, nothing more than narrow beds lined against the walls and a single window that barely let in light. She was told when to wake, where to go, what to do.

The work itself wasn’t complicated, but very tiring. Cleaning floors, carrying water, washing linens, assisting in the kitchens when needed. Always moving. Always doing something. The castle never seemed to rest, and neither did the people inside it who weren’t allowed to.

At first, Reika spoke very little.

She kept her head down. Followed instructions. Avoided attention.

The other servants noticed her, of course. New faces always stood out, especially ones like hers. Some looked at her with curiosity, others with quiet pity, a few with something harder to read.

But no one approached her directly.

Not until Helena.

It happened a few days in. Or maybe more. Time still didn’t feel stable enough to measure properly.

Reika had been struggling with a bucket that was too heavy for how exhausted her arms already were. Water sloshed over the edges with every step, soaking into the fabric of her sleeves, making her grip weaker, but she didn’t stop.

Stopping wasn’t allowed unless you were told to.

But then the weight suddenly lifted.

Just slightly. Enough to take the strain off.

She blinked, turning her head.

A woman stood beside her, one hand casually gripping the handle of the bucket.

“You’ll spill half of it before you get there, like that,” she said.

Her voice wasn’t unkind. Reika stared at her for a second before quickly lowering her gaze again.

“Sorry,” she murmured, even though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.

The woman let out a quiet breath, almost like a small laugh.

“No need to apologize, I was just like you when I started.” she said.

They walked like that for a few steps, sharing the weight.

“I’m Helena,” she added after a moment.

Reika hesitated, then, “…Reika.”

Helena nodded once.

They reached the end of the corridor, setting the bucket down where it was needed. Helena straightened, wiping her hands lightly against her apron before glancing at Reika again.

“You’re new,” she said. “That means no one’s told you anything useful yet.”

Reika stayed quiet. Helena studied her for a second longer, her expression shifting slightly, softer now.

“Alright,” she said. “Listen carefully, then.”

That was how her friendship with Helena started. She was the first kind person she met in the castle.

Soon, reika learned the rhythm of the castle the same way she had once learned the rhythm of her village. Different, harsher, brutal if you didn't follow their orders, but still a rhythm.

Wake before sunrise.

Work until your body ached.

Eat when allowed.

Sleep when you could.

Do all of this again.

There were moments, sometimes, when the past tried to surface, like memories of home, of her mother, and of the life that had been taken from her so quickly it still didn’t feel real.

Those moments were the hardest. Because there was nothing to do with them, no way to go back, no way to change anything.

At first, Reika was only called when there were specific tasks that required attention in the upper parts of the castle, like cleaning private rooms and arranging spaces before meetings.

One day, she was sent for directly.

Not through the usual chain of servants, not through Helena or the kitchen supervisors, but through guards who appeared at the door without explanation and simply said her name.

Reika had learned not to ask questions in those moments.

She would follow. Every time.

The first time she was brought to him alone, she remembered the way her hands felt too aware of themselves. The way she kept them folded in front of her, trying to make herself smaller without drawing attention to the fact that she was trying.

The king’s private chambers were different from the rest of the castle. Quieter and warmer.

The furniture was carefully chosen, the lighting softer, the space larger than necessary. He was already there when she arrived.

Standing near a tall window, his back partially turned, one hand resting against the stone frame as he looked out over the city below.

“Come in,” he said without turning.

Reika stepped inside and stopped a few steps from the door.

She waited, and he didn’t immediately speak again.

Only after a moment did he turn.

His hair was dark, carefully kept, his eyes green. And he was handsome. That was something Reika noticed even the first time she had seen him, even if she didn’t want to.

It didn’t soften anything. It didn’t change what he was. What he allowed people to do.

She quickly bowed and his gaze settled on her fully now.

“You’ve been settling in,” he said.

Reika nodded once. “Yes,” she replied.

He moved a few steps closer. “And how are you finding the castle?” he asked.

The question sounded simple. Almost polite.

Reika hesitated before answering, choosing her words carefully.

“It is… large,” she said. “And busy.”

A faint smile touched his expression at that.

“That it is,” he agreed.

Silence followed for a moment.

Not uncomfortable for him. Only for her.

He studied her the way he had the first time, openly, without hiding the fact that he was looking.

“You’ve adapted quickly,” he said after a moment.

“I am learning,” Reika replied.

“Good,” he said simply.

Then, after another pause, he added, “I like that about you.”

Reika’s fingers tightened slightly behind her back.

She didn’t respond.

Then he added, more quietly, “You’re my favorite.”

The words landed differently than anything else he had said. Reika’s breath slowed slightly, though she didn’t move.

His expression remained unchanged, as if he had simply stated a fact.

“Among all of them,” he clarified, as though it needed context. “You are the most… reliable.”

There was a brief pause.

Then, almost casually, he stepped closer again, just enough that the distance between them narrowed.

Reika resisted the instinct to step back.

She didn’t know if she was allowed to.

Or if it would matter.

“You do not cause problems,” he said. “You do not require correction. And you do not ask for more.”

His eyes stayed on hers.

“That is rare here.”

Reika swallowed once.

“I do my work,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he replied, almost gently. “You do.”

Another pause.

Then, as if the conversation had already been decided in his mind, he turned slightly away again, looking back toward the window.

“You may go,” he said.

Reika hesitated for half a second.

Then she bowed her head slightly and stepped back.

She didn’t turn until she reached the door.

And when she finally did, she left without looking back, hearth still pounding violently in her chest.

Reika knew he looked at her in a way that was not appropriate. Not given all the circumstances. Not when he had a wife.

Reika saw the queen properly for the first time during court routines, when servants were allowed to remain at the edges of formal gatherings.

The queen had long blonde hair, with a straight posture that never seemed to change regardless of where she stood.

She dressed in very formal clothing most of the time. Long gowns made from high-quality fabric, usually in blue, red or muted tones, with structured designs that emphasized her position.

Reika had never seen her speak to the king and she wasn't sure if they really loved each other.

One night, she had been brought to his chambers again.

The request was simple, and there explanation beyond the usual.

The king wanted to see her, so she followed the guards through the corridors without asking anything. By now, that part of the routine no longer felt unfamiliar.

The king wanted to see her often, sometimes to talk, others just to look at her.

The room was dim, lit by a few lamps and the fire in the hearth. The city outside was quiet. The atmosphere inside the chamber was calm, almost private in a way that felt different from their earlier meetings.

He was not wearing formal court clothing this time. His appearance was simpler, less structured, though still clearly expensive. He was seated at first, looking over documents on a table, then looked up when she entered.

He asked her a few questions, like he sometimes did.

About work and the castle. Reika answered carefully, as she always did.

He listened without interrupting.

At some point, the conversation stopped feeling like work-related questioning.

There was a pause that lasted longer than usual.

He looked at her for a while without speaking.

Then he stood up.

Reika didn’t move back.

Not because she didn’t feel tension, but because she had learned not to react too quickly unless something demanded it.

He stepped closer.

This time, there was no question asked first.

He reached out and touched her face briefly, not forcefully, just enough to turn her slightly toward him. His hand was steady.

Her breathing stayed even, but she was aware of everything, of the distance, the silence, the fact that there were no guards, no servants, no interruptions.

He kissed her.

Reika didn’t resist.

The king was handsome. He was also a monster who let people die and starve and get taken away from their lands.

The two things coexisted. Reika didn't know how to feel. Or maybe she did but didn't want to accept it, because it would have made her feel worse about what was happening.

When he pulled back slightly, he looked at her again.

Waiting.

Reika remained still for a moment, then, without speaking, she did not step away.

That was enough for him.

He led her to the bed without saying much. Reika let herself be guided, she didn’t stop him.

And she didn’t fully understand why.

Maybe it was the way he looked at her, maybe it was the fact that, for once, she was being chosen for something other than labor or obedience. Maybe it was exhaustion. Or confusion. Or the quiet, complicated recognition that she had no real control over the direction any of this could take anyway.

The bed was softer than anything she had known since arriving there.

She kissed him back, multiple times. He whispered to her that she was beautiful, that he wished she was her queen, that he only had eyes for her.

When it was over, Reika laid there for a moment, then sat up slowly, gathering herself without rushing, without looking at him for too long. She adjusted her clothes with steady hands, even if her thoughts weren’t as steady underneath.

Then she stood.

For a second, she hesitated. Then she lowered her gaze and walked toward the door.

She didn’t look back.

And when she stepped out into the corridor again, the castle felt exactly the same as before.

Only she wasn’t.

Days passed. Then weeks.

At first, nothing felt different. The routine stayed the same, the work, the long hours, the constant movement through corridors that had already started to feel too familiar. If anything had changed, it was subtle enough that Reika ignored it.

Or tried to.

It started with small things, like a lingering tiredness that didn’t go away with sleep, moments where her stomach turned unexpectedly, forcing her to pause and steady herself before continuing, food that once felt normal suddenly became difficult to swallow.

She told herself it was nothing.

That it was exhaustion and stress. But the signs didn’t stop.

And slowly, quietly, a thought began to form, one she didn’t want to face.

Reika didn’t speak about it at first but after months, it wasn’t a possibility anymore.

She knew she was pregnant.

With his child.

With time, her body changed slowly, enough that she could still conceal it for a time. Her pregnancy was easier than she had expected, no major complications, no moments that forced attention onto her too early.

It gave her time.

Time to think. Time to adjust. Time to feel something she hadn’t expected.

Because despite everything, despite where she was, despite how this had begun… she didn’t feel only fear. Because she knew she was gonna love her child.

At some point, when her belly was starting to get hard to hide, she had to tell it to someone, and the only person she trusted with the whole story, was Helena.

“…How long?” Helena asked softly.

Reika hesitated. “…A while.”

Helena exhaled slowly, absorbing it.

But she didn’t look angry and she didn’t look shocked either. Just… concerned.

The rest of the castle remained unaware, and if someone suspected she was pregnant, they just thought she had sex with some servantant working there.

The night it happened, it was sudden. Reika had doubled over where she stood, her breath catching as her body tensed in a way she couldn’t control.

Helena understood immediately.

The hours that followed were long, messy and exhausting.

Reika had never experienced pain like that before. It came in waves, each one stronger than the last, tearing through whatever strength she thought she had.

She tried to stay quiet. Tried to keep the sounds contained the same way she always did. But this was different.

Helena stayed with her the entire time. Guiding her, steadying her, speaking when needed, even when Reika barely processed the words.

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

And finally, after what felt like hours, and probably were, it was over.

The room fell into a different kind of silence for a second before a new sound filled the space.

A small and fragile cry.

Reika was exhausted at first, but when Helena placed the child in her arms everything else faded.

Reika looked down.

At him.

He was so small and the cutest thing she had ever seen.

This was hers. Despite everything.

He was hers. And she already loved him.

Helena watched quietly for a moment, something soft in her expression. “…What will you call him?” she asked.

Reika didn’t hesitate.

Her gaze never left the child in her arms.

“Noah,” she said softly.

Helena tilted her head slightly. “Noah?”

Reika nodded faintly.

“I always liked that name.”

She adjusted her hold on him just slightly, closer now.

“Noah,” she repeated, quieter this time.

For the first time since she had been taken from her home, something felt right.

If she was sure of something, it was that she was going to love and protect that child at every cost.

---

Noah grew up inside the castle walls, though “growing up” there looked very different from what it might have been anywhere else.

Reika carried him with her whenever she could, tied close to her body when he was still small enough, his head resting against her chest as she worked. When she couldn’t, Helena would take him, balancing her tasks and finding time to take care of him. Between the two of them, they managed.

It wasn’t easy. There were days when Noah cried and neither of them could immediately go to him. Days when he had to be left in a corner of a room, wrapped in cloth, while floors were scrubbed or linens carried. But he was never neglected, never forgotten.

If anything, he was loved too much for a place like that.

Reika spoke to him in her native language when no one was around. Sometimes she would hum to him, melodies from her village, repetitive and gentle.

As a baby, he was calm more often than not. His big brown eyes watched everything, always observing.

His first steps came earlier than expected.

He had been holding onto the edge of one of the low wooden tables in the servants’ quarters, his small fingers gripping tightly as he pulled himself up. Reika had been nearby, washing something in a basin, while Helena sorted through linens.

“Look,” Helena said suddenly.

Reika turned just in time to see it.

Noah let go.

For a second, he wobbled, unsteady, his balance uncertain. Then he took a small and uneven step.

Then another.

Then he kept walking. And fell a second later.

Helena laughed softly under her breath as Reika rushed forward, kneeling beside him. “He’ll be running in a week at this rate.”

And she wasn’t wrong.

From that moment on, Noah didn’t stay still.

As he grew, the castle became his entire world.

At first it was just the servants’ quarters, the kitchens, the narrow corridors where he was allowed to wander under watch. He learned quickly where he could go and where he couldn’t, not because anyone explained it clearly, but because of how people reacted.

Some places were safe.

Others were not.

He understood that instinctively.

By the time he was three, he started to ask questions.

A lot of them.

“What is that?”

“Why?”

“Where?”

Sometimes Reika answered.

Sometimes Helena did.

Sometimes neither of them had an answer they could give him.

“Why can’t I go there?” he asked once, pointing toward a staircase that led upward, toward the more ornate parts of the castle.

Reika hesitated. “…Because that is not for us.”

Noah frowned slightly. “Why?”

Helena stepped in before Reika could struggle through an answer. “Because people up there don’t like being disturbed.”

That wasn’t the full truth. But it was enough for a child.

As he got older, the looks started.

At first, he didn’t understand them. Nobles passing through the lower corridors would glance at him, their expressions shifting the moment they noticed him standing near Reika or Helena. There was something in their eyes, something cold, something dismissive.

Disgust.

It was the same look they gave Reika.

Noah noticed it before he understood it.

One day, when he was around five, he asked about it.

“Why do they look at me like that?”

“Like what, baby?”

He tried to imitate it, scrunching his face in a way that was almost accurate. “Like they don’t like me.”

Silence followed.

Helena, who had been nearby, didn’t immediately step in this time.

Reika forced a small, careful smile. “They don’t know you.”

Noah tilted his head. “But they don’t want to.”

There wasn’t an easy answer to that.

So Reika said nothing.

By the time Noah turned six, he explored the castle despite all the warnings.

He had learned how to move quietly, how to slip through corridors without drawing attention, how to disappear when he needed to.

Helena had caught him once, coming back from a corridor he definitely wasn’t supposed to be in.

“And where have you been?” she asked, arms crossed.

Noah paused. “…Walking.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “Walking where?”

He didn’t answer.

She sighed, rubbing her temple slightly. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble.”

He looked at her, unbothered. “I didn’t!”

“Not yet,” she corrected.

Helena was concerned because the castle was not a place where someone like Noah could move freely without consequences forever.

Still, he kept exploring.

Large halls with high ceilings. Rooms filled with things he didn’t understand. Windows that looked out over the city, showing him a world that was starting to interest him.

By the time Noah was eight, the castle was no longer enough for him.

It had become boring. Every corridor memorized. Every routine understood. Every place he was allowed to be had already been explored too many times to still feel interesting. Even the places he wasn’t supposed to go had started to lose their mystery.

So he started looking beyond it.

And he used the door in the kitchens to get out of the castle. The first time he used it, his heart had been pounding so loudly he was sure someone would hear it.

He waited until no one was looking. Slipped through the doorway, and didn’t stop walking until the castle walls were behind him.

And just like that... he was outside.

The air felt different, wider and colder.

He didn’t go far that first time. Just enough to see the streets, the movement of people who didn’t wear uniforms or fine clothes, who spoke louder, laughed more freely, argued openly.

It felt messy.

Alive.

He went back before anyone could notice he was gone.

But after that, he couldn’t stop.

It became a habit. And the town became his second world.

The streets were narrow and crowded, filled with stalls, voices, smells that changed depending on where he walked. Markets stretched across entire roads, merchants calling out to passersby, displaying fabrics, food, tools, things Noah had never seen inside the castle.

He liked the markets the most.

There was always something happening. Always something to look at.

And eventually... something to take.

The first time he stole something, it was small. Just a piece of fruit left too close to the edge of a stall, the merchant distracted, turned away for just a second too long.

Noah saw it. Hesitated. Then took it.

His heart raced the entire time he walked away, expecting someone to shout, to grab him, to stop him.

No one did.

He didn’t even eat it right away. Just held it, staring at it.

After that, it got easier.

Not reckless. Never careless.

He watched. Waited. Learned who paid attention and who didn’t.

Sometimes it was food. Sometimes small objects he didn’t really need.

Of course, he didn’t keep it from Reika for long.

He came back one day with something in his hand, trying to hide it, but she noticed immediately.

“What is that?” she asked.

Noah froze for half a second. “…Nothing.”

Reika stepped closer. “Noah.”

He hesitated, then slowly showed her.

Her expression changed instantly.

“Did you steal this?” she asked.

No answer.

“That means yes,” she said, sharper now. “Noah, you can’t do that.”

“They have a lot,” he replied quickly. “They won’t notice.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Reika said, “You don’t take things that aren’t yours.”

Noah frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s wrong,” she said.

Noah didn’t look convinced.

He kept leaving. Kept exploring.

Noah loved Helena. To him, she felt like a second mother. He trusted her the same way he trusted Reika, and even though both of them constantly told him not to steal, he kept bringing them small things. A stone, a simple bracelet, food, anything he thought might make them smile.

And over time, he stopped being alone out there.

He met other kids. He liked them. They didn't look at him for too long trying to understand if he was white or not.

Sometimes they met in the same corner of the market, near a broken wall where no adults paid much attention. They would sit on the ground in a loose circle, pulling out worn dice, small stones, or whatever they could use to play. The rules changed depending on who suggested them, sometimes simple games of luck, sometimes bets with whatever little they had. Noah liked those moments the most. There, he wasn’t the servant’s son from the castle. He was just another kid, laughing, arguing, and playing.

One day, Noah stole something that didn’t look valuable, just… strange. Small, round, made of metal, with a tiny moving needle trapped under glass. It caught his attention, and that was enough.

He turned it in his hands for a while before bringing it to the castle.

Reika noticed it almost immediately. “Where did you get that?”

Noah hesitated. “…I found it.”

She gave him a look. Then sighed softly and took it from him, examining it more carefully.

“It’s a compass,” she said.

Noah frowned slightly. “What does it do?”

“It helps people find their way,” she explained. “People who travel. It shows direction, so they don’t get lost.”

He looked at it again, more focused now. The small needle kept moving, always settling in the same direction.

“…So you can go anywhere?” he asked.

Reika’s expression softened just a little. “If you know how to use it… yes.”

Noah stayed quiet after that, staring at the compass in his hands. He thought about it for a long time.

About places beyond the castle. Beyond the town. Places where no one shouted at his mother for doing something wrong. Places where Helena didn’t have to work until her hands hurt. Places where they could all just… exist.

In his mind, it was simple. He would take them with him. His mom, and Helena. All three of them together.

They would travel, eat food from different places, see things no one in the castle had ever seen, and no one would own them. No one would tell them what to do.

They would be free and happy.

At least… that was Noah’s dream.

Some years later, something started changing at court.

Noah didn’t notice it. Reika did. And Helena even more.

“I heard something,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” Reika asked.

“Some of the nobles were talking. Laughing, at first.” She paused. “Chatting about who actually is Noah's father. One of them joked… said maybe he’s the king’s.”

Silence.

“They laughed,” Helena added quickly. “Most of them. But not all.”

Reika looked up.

“One stayed quiet. Then she started whispering with another.”

Reika felt something cold settle in her stomach.

“Do you think…” Helena started, then stopped.

Reika already knew the question.

Do you think someone knows?

She didn’t answer.

Because she didn’t know.

And now she was scared for Noah's safety too.

Days passed by and then, one morning, it happened.

Two guards appeared at the entrance of the servants’ quarters.

“Reika.” They just said her name.

She stood.

Helena stepped slightly closer to her. “…What is it?” she asked under her breath.

Reika just shook her head, but in her heart, she already knew.

The walk through the castle felt longer than usual and then, they brought her directly to the throne room.

The doors opened and she saw that the room was already occupied as nobles stood along the sides, their attention shifting the moment she entered.

At the far end, on the throne, there was the king. Advisors stood near him and other guards were positioned along the walls.

Reika was brought forward, and then stopped.

“Leave her,” the king said.

The guards stepped back.

Reika bowed for a moment.

Silence followed.

She kept her gaze lowered, but she could feel the weight of attention pressing down from every direction.

“You’ve been stealing.”

The words cut through the room. Reika blinked, just once.

“…No, your highness.” she said quietly.

The king stood and the movement alone shifted the atmosphere.

“Do not lie,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Items have gone missing in the rooms where you work. And you expect me to believe you know nothing about it?”

Reika’s heart was beating too fast now.

This wasn’t about theft, she understood that immediately. She hadn’t taken anything that wasn't hers and she knew Noah didn't steal inside the castle.

“I have taken nothing,” she said, a little more firmly this time. “I do my work. I—”

“Enough.”

His voice echoed.

“You were given a place here,” he continued, “You were allowed to remain. To work. To live under this roof.”

Reika felt her hands trembling slightly, but she kept them still.

“And this is how you repay it?”

“I didn’t—”

“You did!”

There was a moment of silence, Reika tried again but she knew everything would have been useless.

“I have not stolen anything,” she said again, quieter now, but steady. “You know that.”

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression. They both exactly knew what was going on.

And then it was gone.

Replaced by something colder.

“I know enough,” he said. “This kind of behavior cannot be tolerated,” he declared. “Not in this court.”

This was it.

“Effective immediately,” he continued, “she is to be executed.”

Some people behind him nodded, all agreeing.

“As an example for everyone. This afternoon.”

Reika stood there, unmoving. For a moment, everything felt distant, muted.

Then one thought broke through everything else.

Noah.

Her child.

What would happen to him? What would happen to her baby? The baby she was always going to love, no matter how it would end for her.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to look at him again, hoping to see the glimpse of a father in his eyes, or at least of a man.

But she just saw the king. Just a monster.

“Take her away,” he said.

The guards stepped forward again, grabbed her arms and dragged her away as she didn't try to resist.

That afternoon came too quickly.

Reika was sitting in a small, dim room when the door opened again.

Helena stepped in first. And Noah was right behind her. The moment he saw her, he ran.

“Mom!”

Reika smiled despite everything. She held him tightly, more tightly than she ever had before, pressing her face into his hair, breathing him in like she could memorize him.

He always smelled like outside. Like dust, like the streets, like life.

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her throat closed. Helena stood a step away, watching them, her eyes already wet.

Reika finally pulled back just enough to look at Noah’s face. She took it in carefully. Every detail. His eyes, his cheeks, the way his hair fell.

“Hey…” she whispered softly, brushing a strand away from his forehead.

Noah frowned slightly. “Where were you?” he asked. “They didn’t let me come earlier.”

“I know.”

He looked around the room, confused. “Why are you here?”

Reika didn’t answer that. Instead, she pulled him closer again, one hand resting against the back of his head.

“I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Noah looked up at her, serious now.

“…Okay.”

Reika swallowed, holding back everything that threatened to break through. “I love you,” she said softly.

Noah blinked. “I know.”

She let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a sob.

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly. “I love you so much. More than anything.”

He didn’t fully understand why she was saying it like that. He just nodded again, a little unsure.

“I love you too.”

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t let the tears fall.

Not now.

Not in front of him.

“You’re brave,” she continued quietly. “And smart. And kind.”

Noah tilted his head slightly. “Why are you saying it like that?”

Reika hesitated.

He was too young, barely twelve. Too young to understand what was about to happen.

“…Because I want you to remember it,” she said gently.

“Where are they taking you?” he asked.

Reika’s fingers tightened slightly against his sleeve.

“…You don’t need to worry about that,” she said softly.

“But—”

“Hey.” She cupped his face again, guiding his gaze back to hers. “Look at me.”

He did.

“I love you,” she repeated, “and remember this is not your fault.”

He frowned, more confused now. “What’s happening?”

Reika took a breath. This was the hardest part.

“I need you to promise me something.”

Noah blinked. “What?”

“When it will happen, don’t look.”

He stared at her.

“What?”

“You don’t look,” she repeated, softer this time. “No matter what you hear. No matter what happens.”

He shook his head slightly. “Why?”

Reika’s voice almost broke.

“Just promise me.”

He hesitated.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know you don’t.”

Her thumb brushed lightly under his eye.

“But you have to trust me. Can you do that?”

Noah looked at her. Something felt wrong.

“…Okay,” he said quietly.

Reika searched his face. “Promise.”

“…I promise.”

That was enough.

She pulled him into one last embrace, holding him as if she could somehow keep him there, frozen in that moment.

“I love you baby,” she whispered into his hair.

Then she let go.

She stood, turning to Helena. Then she stepped forward and hugged her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Helena’s arms tightened around her immediately.

“For everything.”

Helena shook her head, her voice breaking. “No—”

“You are the best friend I could have,” Reika said softly.

Helena didn’t answer, and just held her tighter.

At some point, the guards stepped forward.

It was time.

They took Reika by the arms again.

Noah didn’t stay, and decided to follow them, even if Helena tried to catch him before he ran away after them.

At first slowly, then faster, slipping through people, through corridors, then outside, where the streets were louder than usual, full of people.

He pushed through them, small enough to pass between bodies, his eyes fixed ahead.

Where were they taking her?

He could hear voices overlapped, people talking, whispering. Noah didn’t understand any of it.

He followed them until they reached a large open space.

There was a wooden platform in the center.

People were already gathered around it.

Noah slowed down.

His breathing uneven now, from the run and the fear.

They brought her up there.

Her words came back.

You don’t look.

His body stilled.

He turned his head away.

He forced himself to.

His hands clenched at his sides.

He wouldn’t look.

He promised.

Around him, the noise grew. He could hear voices and feel the movement.

Something heavy was being adjusted.

Don’t look.

Noah squeezed his eyes shut.

Don’t look.

He didn’t understand.

But he listened. Because she told him to.

His heart was beating too fast.

He pressed his lips together.

Don’t look.

Don’t look.

Don’t...

A sudden shift in the crowd.

A sound.

A sharp, collective reaction or people cheering and yelling.

Noah’s breath hitched, and before he could stop himself... he looked.

For a moment, his mind refused to understand what he was seeing.

It was as if his eyes had made a mistake, as if the image in front of him did not belong to reality but to something distant, something unreal that would disappear if he just blinked hard enough. But it didn’t. The longer he looked, the more the details forced themselves into him.

His mother’s body was hanging, suspended in a way that made no sense to him, her feet not touching the ground, her arms still, her head tilted unnaturally. The rope around her neck was tight, cutting into her skin in a way that made his stomach twist violently. There was no movement, no breath, no voice.

No “Noah, be careful.”

No “Noah, don't steal.”

No “Noah, I love you.”

No warmth.

Just stillness.

The noise of the crowd crashed back into him all at once, loud and overwhelming. Some people were cheering, others speaking loudly over each other. It didn’t match what he was seeing. It didn’t match what he was feeling. How could they be so loud when everything inside him had gone completely silent?

His chest tightened painfully, like something was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. His lungs worked too fast, shallow and uneven, as if they didn’t know how to function anymore. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes so suddenly he couldn’t stop them.

He turned and ran.

He didn’t think about where he was going, didn’t look at the people he pushed past, didn’t hear the protests or the annoyed voices as he slipped through the crowd again, smaller than them, faster than them, desperate to get away from the square, from the platform, from that image that had already burned itself into him.

His legs moved without stopping, carrying him through the streets, past the market, until the stone gave way to dirt and the noise of the city slowly began to fade behind him.

He didn’t stop when he reached the edge of the woods surrounding the castle.

He kept going.

Branches scratched against his arms as he pushed through them, roots catching under his feet, forcing him to stumble more than once, but he didn’t slow down. The air felt colder there but it didn't help.

Nothing helped.

The image followed him. Every time he blinked, he saw her again.

A sob broke out of him, louder this time, raw and uncontrolled, his small body finally giving in to everything it had been holding back.

He slowed, then stumbled, then stopped entirely, his legs giving out beneath him as he dropped to the ground.

The earth was uneven and cold, damp beneath his hands as he tried to steady himself, but it didn’t matter. Nothing felt real anymore except the pain in his chest and the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

His shoulders shook as he cried, the sound echoing weakly through the trees, swallowed quickly by the vastness of the forest. Time lost meaning as he stayed there, curled in on himself, trying to make sense of something that couldn’t be understood, especially not by a child.

He didn’t know how much time had passed.

The light had shifted, slowly fading through the branches above him, turning everything softer and darker at the same time.

At some point, the sound reached him.

“Noah!”

He didn’t move, he didn't have any strength for it.

“Noah!”

Branches rustled somewhere behind him, footsteps uneven, quick, pushing through the same undergrowth he had run through without thinking.

“There you are.”

Noah lifted his head slightly, his vision still blurred, his face wet and streaked with dirt. For a second, he just looked at Helena.

She rushed forward and dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands immediately reaching for his face, his shoulders, checking him like she needed to be sure he was okay.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she said, “Everywhere…”

She pulled him into her arms, and he didn’t resist.

The moment she held him, something inside him gave in again, his small body collapsing against her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hand pressing gently against the back of his head, holding him close. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Noah clutched at her clothes weakly.

“…Why?”

Helena froze.

“Why did they do that?” he asked, his voice trembling, barely holding together. “Why did they kill her?”

“Noah…” she started, but her voice caught.

She took a breath.

“You deserve to know,” she said quietly.

He looked at her, eyes red, confused, waiting.

Helena hesitated only a moment longer.

“…Your father,” she said slowly, “is the king.”

Noah blinked. The words didn’t make sense at first.

“What?” he whispered.

“The king,” she repeated softly. “He… he is your father.”

Noah stared at her, trying to understand, trying to fit that into everything he knew, everything he had just seen.

“That’s why…” Helena continued, “That’s why this happened.”

“…Why?” he asked again, but this time it sounded smaller.

Helena’s hands tightened slightly on his arms.

“Because he was afraid,” she said. “Afraid that people would find out. Afraid that your mother would tell the truth. So he got rid of her. People were starting to talk in the castle.”

The forest felt too quiet around them.

Noah looked down, his hands trembling slightly in his lap.

“The king…” he repeated faintly.

Helena watched him carefully.

“Yes.”

A long pause.

“…He’s evil,” Noah said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

Another silence.

Then Noah looked up again, “…Does that mean I’m like him?”

The question broke something in her. Helena’s expression softened immediately, and she reached up, cupping his face gently.

“Oh no,” she said firmly. “Noah, listen to me. You are not like him.”

Her thumb brushed away a tear from his cheek.

“You are like your mother.”

His lips trembled slightly.

“You have her heart,” Helena continued softly. “Her kindness. Her strength.”

She paused, then added, her voice gentler now, “And her eyes.”

Noah blinked, more tears slipping down his face.

“You are nothing like him,” she repeated again and again.

They stayed there for a long time, ane Noah’s uneven breathing began to calm against Helena’s shoulder. She didn’t rush him, but eventually though, she had to pull back to look at him properly when she spoke.

She told him, quietly, that he couldn’t stay. That the castle was no longer safe for him, that after what had happened, it was only a matter of time before someone started asking the wrong questions.

Noah didn’t accept it. He shook his head, tears rising again as he begged her to come with him, his voice small and desperate, asking her not to leave him alone too, not after everything.

She told him she couldn’t. That if she disappeared too, it would draw attention, make everything worse. That she had to stay, at least for now. But him… he had a chance. Out there, beyond the castle, beyond the city, he had a chance to survive.

She told him that other people would find him. That someone would take care of him. That he was stronger than he thought.

He didn’t believe it. Not really. But there was nothing else to hold onto.

So he hugged her again, and told her he loved her.

That was the last time they saw each other for years.

That night, while the castle slept and the city quieted, Noah made his way down to the port. He moved carefully, the way he always had when sneaking out, but this time there was no curiosity driving him forward, no sense of adventure. Only the need to leave.

The harbor was darker than the rest of the city, lit only by scattered lanterns and the low glow of ships anchored in the water. There were more vessels than he had ever really noticed before, their shapes rising against the night.

He didn’t know where any of them were going, but it didn’t matter.

He chose one without thinking too much about it, climbing aboard when no one was looking, his body slipping between ropes and wooden structures until he found a place to hide. There were barrels stacked close together, the scent of alcohol strong enough to sting his nose, but it gave him cover.

He curled up between them, pulling himself in as small as possible.

Exhaustion took him quickly.

When they found him the next morning, he was still asleep, tucked between the rum barrels like something forgotten.

Voices woke him.

Rough ones. Confused at first, then amused.

They decided to keep him.

And soon, Noah found out that of all the ships he could have chosen, he had climbed onto a pirate vessel.

But he was just a child and somehow, that was enough for them to let him stay.

So they kept him, and taught him how to survive in their world.

And that was how his new life began.

Noah taglist pt 1: @mushrumink @sullyselena @buttercupbabyyy @pathion @pipidoll @missduffsblog @vibecops @myexistencesucks @overmydeadbodysblog @margocos-blog @heyitsjay316 @sallyba3 @bartxnhood @lacy1986 @iamamatus @dream-machine-love @amoursims @suessmausnici @whimsicaldiamonds @imyourliquor-youremypoison @punkprincess1999 @bored-rato @thepeoplesblog @dxthrone @illmakeyousaywow @xmads-omensx @sikowitzbitch @tosoundlessdarkistare @sadbitchenergy @flowery-mess @anything-morethan-human @lekyswixexx @english-fucker @follow-me-down-to-wonderland