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Tending to the fields had long since become mindless work to Boris. He knew how to care for the plants that he and his mothers reared better than he knew how to care for himself, and that is what he appreciated about the work. When his nails were caked in soil or the calluses on his hands were being torn again, all thoughts left his brain. These past few weeks this work had been the only time that he felt no anxiety, no impatience, no foolish, foolish hope; as such, if he wasn’t in the town waiting alertly for any seed of news of Kamal, he was in their fields.

.10 Do you even still love me? (ANGSTY BOI TIME) Boris sat stiff on the rock as his savior (and possible soon-to-be murderer?) casually sliced through the bonds on his wrists. His hands newly free, Boris stood, grateful for once for his immense height. He towered over the man in black, and glared at him. The man in black smiled, the lower half of his face thankfully uncovered.

“Rest, your highness.” He said. His voice was strangely pleasant and familiar, yet cruelly condescending. Boris scowled. 

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Boris snarled, his arms hanging tense by his side. They were standing on the highest peak of the cliff, and far off on a nearby ridge, Boris thought he could see the distant figures of men on horseback. He smiled slightly. 

“You wound me, your highness. Tell me, what have I done to earn your ire?” The man in black spread his arms wide, a smug grin staining his face. Boris huffed in anger. 

“You killed the one person I’ve ever loved.” He growled. “You’re a murderer.” The man in black’s smile faltered. 

“Your princess is still alive, your highness. As far as I know, I never had any reason to kill her.” 

Boris rolled his eyes. “Not her!” He shouted. “You killed my beloved. He was a simple farm boy. He was going to make his fortune so we could be married, but you, you- you monster. You slaughtered him.” 

The smile was entirely gone from the stranger’s face. He seemed tense, confused almost, his fists curling and uncurling. “Your… Your beloved is lucky I killed him. If he had… if he had known how his lover would betray him, he would have begged me to kill him even quicker!” 

Boris lunged forward.“You mock my pain.” He snarled. 

The stranger smiled a cruel, sad smile.“Tell me,” The man in black said, his dark eyes roaming Boris’s face. “Tell me honestly. Do you even still love him?” 

Boris recoiled as if he had been stabbed, face pale. 

The man in black was shaking, though so subtly No one could have noticed it.

“Do you?” The man in black whispered. 

Boris gaped.“His…” Boris began, tears forming in his eyes. 

“His name was Kamal. Kamal Bora. And you… You mocked me once. Never do it again. I died that day.” He looked deep into the man in black’s eyes. His lip curled in disgust and hatred.

“And you can die too, for all I care!” 

17. “If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.” Not as fluffy as it could be, but eh.

“Kamal!” 

Kamal panted, adjusting Boris in his arms once again as he ran through the fire swamp, muscles heaving. There was no way to tell how far away Princess Martha and her men were at this point. Kamal ran as though every tree held a soldier hidden behind it, though his arms grew more and more strained under the weight of his beloved. 

“Kamal, stop.” 

Kamal finally shuddered to a halt, panting. Gently, he set Boris on the ground, and leaned back against a tree, gasping for breath. Boris stood, brushing his dress off. Still in a state of shock, he made his way to Kamal slowly, feeling as though he was walking underwater.

“Kamal. Let me see your arm.” Without making eye contact with him, Kamal raised his arm, revealing the deep gash carved into it. Boris gasped, and grabbed Kamal’s forearm. Kamal flinched. Apologetically, Boris released him, and bent down. Taking up a section of his long skirt, he tore a strip off of it despite Kamal’s protest. 

“It’s not much,” Boris confided to him. “I never had much healing knowledge.” Carefully, he wrapped Kamal’s arm, flinching at the speed the blood soaked through the thin cloth. The Y’owl’s weren’t strong physically, but their beaks were sharper than a soldier’s sword, and could penetrate through the toughest armor. Kamal suppressed a whimper. As Boris leaned down to tie the wrap, Kamal took his face into his hands.

“Boris,” He said. His voice was rough. He licked his lips. “I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Boris said. “I couldn’t do enough. This is all my fault. I could have stopped it from hurting you and I didn’t do anything.” 

“If you had done something, you might have gotten hurt too.” Kamal hissed as his arm throbbed in pain, and pressed his face to Boris’s neck. 

“I just need you.” Kamal said. “I don’t need anything else but you. If you don’t kiss me right now, I might fall apart.” 

Boris’s gaze softened. He leaned forward, until his forehead was pressed against Kamal’s. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “This is all because of me.” 

Slowly, gently, he brushed his lips against Kamal’s. Kamal reached up and wrapped his arms around his neck. 

There came a shout from off in the distance. They broke apart, as if a spell had been broken. 

“Come on,” Said Kamal, taking Boris’s hand. “We can’t delay any longer. They’ll be on us soon if we aren’t careful.” 

This isn’t a very long one, but here we go!  “So… Y’owl’s?” 

“Yes, y’owl’s.”

“...The y’owl’s that live in the fireswamp. And try to rip people to shreds.” Parsley said, raising an eyebrow.

“They aren’t that bad, Parsley! They just have a temperament. You have to treat animals with dignity and respect!” Borbra said, putting her hands on her hips. The tiny ship rocked back and forth slightly as she paced up and down the deck. The boss, who still sat beside the bound and gagged prince, rolled his eyes, and turned away to keep his eye on the ship that still followed from far off in the distance.

“So… you really want to catch one? And keep it? As a pet?” Parsley said, the hand that had been sharpening his sword coming to a halt. “Pardon me, Borbra. I just find it a bit odd.”

Borbra smiled. “I find it odd that you can stand to drink so much, but I don’t judge you for it.” 

“Now wait a minute, wait. I don’t judge you for anything! I do your rhymes with you, don’t I?” He did, that was true. Even when they had been rhyming for several hours, to the point where the boss would threaten to fire them both. “Listen, I’m sorry.” Parsley said. “You listen to me talk about my… quest… So I’ll listen to you. Go on, tell me about the Y’owl’s.” 

Borbra grinned and took a seat beside him.

“You know, the boss thinks you’re odd, too.” She said. 

Parsley grinned, letting out a short chuckle. 

“I’d say he feels that way about both of us. Our, uh, guest might feel the same.” 

Borbra looked back at the large figure, who had been sitting so stiff and still one might have thought he had turned into a statue somewhere along the way. 

“Well,” She said. “I don’t know if I blame him.” A ping of sadness shot through her. It was hard to be a villain. It wasn’t at all a fun job, but at this point in her life, there wasn’t much else for her. Parsley must have noticed the sadness on her face, as he leaned up and patted her shoulder. 

“Hey.” He said. “They may not understand you, but I do.” 

YOYUARE VERY SWEET THANMKLS YOUA!!!

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