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Description
The Legend of Kyrandia Fanfiction
In the Castle
started 9/19/13
My head…where, where am I…?
Delle tried to open her eyes, but she instantly found that far too difficult for her to do. Instead, she attempted to look past her aching head to take in her surroundings blindly:
She was on the ground, lying on her side. It was cold and damp against her face; stone, she decided. The Mystic’s apprentice curled her cramped fingers, her skin scraping across the rough floor and catching on-
Carpet? Where the heck am I?
Pushing past the dull pounding at the back of her head, Delle finally managed to open her mismatched eyes slowly. She started upon the sight, sitting up sharply only to send a wave of ache through her head and down her spine. With a groan, she closed her eyes again and gingerly brought her fingers up to massage her scalp. It helped some, and when she opened her eyes once more it hurt far less.
But she still did not like what she saw.
“Zanthia-!” Delle gasped, jumping up to her feet only to stumble gracelessly back to the floor in a flurry of aches and skirts.
She groaned, pushing herself up slowly with her arms. When Delle raised her head, she released another sharp gasp for she really hoped she was only hallucinating. But, no, this was an awful reality.
Stone.
Zanthia was stone.
“What…?” The apprentice breathed, her headband falling into her eyes.
With an annoyed huff, Delle shoved the band haphazardly back up her forehead. Her fiery red hair did not play along, however, and she could feel how frizzy and messy it had gotten. Not that she cared even a bit with her mother figure standing before her encased in stone.
She took in the rest of the room of…wherever she was. Delle was facing a large window, framed by tattered and dusty royal purple curtains that were faded with age. A table was under it, an hourglass and a candlestick the only things there. She turned her head to the right, her eyes glazing over Zanthia as fast as she could. There was a painting on the wall of a man she had never seen before, although he had the looking of a knight. Perhaps it was King William, Brandon’s father. The carpet she was laying on was the same shade of purple that garbed the room, but the most intriguing sight was the large set of bells that stood just inside the doorway.
The apprentice was still inspecting the bells from her place on the floor when she heard the scuff of approaching footfalls. With wide eyes, she managed to dart up from the ground, holding onto the bells’ support beam for her own support. The sound came closer, and Delle desperately began to search for a weapon, the thought of using her weak magic escaping her completely.
The mallet.
She snatched at the bells’ mallet, the shaft long enough for both of her slender hands to grasp it. Her mismatched eyes stayed locked on the doorway, waiting for the person as the sound came closer and closer…
The figure stepped into the doorway, and Delle released a scream worthy of banshee as she raised the mallet over her head to bring it down on the head of-
“Brandon!” She gasped, barely stopping the mallet from smashing in the prince’s skull.
“Delle-!” Brandon was just as surprised, unconsciously reaching up to make certain that the mallet wouldn’t meet its mark.
His fingers curled around hers, and his touch sent a shock through her. With a yelp, Delle’s hands flew open. Startled, Brandon also opened his fingers, and they watched as the mallet thumped to the floor. For a second, they stared at mallet almost dumbly. Then, Delle glanced up at Brandon only to see him staring at her. He looked so serious, so unfazed…
“You’re not stone.” He breathed, his fear showing in those three words.
“Guess not.” Delle whispered, struck by his sudden show of trepidation. “Neither are you.”
Brandon visibly swallowed, bowing his head to watch his fumbling fingers. Without knowing fully why, Delle reached forward and took his hands in between hers. He started at her touch, that same shock coming back to jolt through them both. Keeping her eyes on their hands, Delle ran her thumbs over his skin.
“This was my home.” Brandon told her softly, his voice shaking slightly at her touch. “It, it brings back so many faint memories, and Malcolm, he…” Brandon paused to look at her in the eye. “We were to be married.”
Delle’s eyes grew large, and she nearly dropped his hands in surprise. She hadn’t told him that, and there was no time for Zanthia to spill the beans, was there? How did he know? She opened her mouth to ask him as much, but he started talking before she could get the words out.
“Malcolm told me, when I first arrived in the castle.” Brandon explained, his jaw clenching. “When I arrived in my home. He slides down the banister like he owns the place, mocking me and my family. He mentioned Herman, and the other Mystics. And then you.”
“Brandon, I-“
“Told me my bride-to-be was waiting for me, Malcolm did. I didn’t get it at first. Then he mentioned your fiery hair and mismatched eyes.” His eyes were kind, though his voice was still hard as he looked at her.
“I didn’t know until yesterday,” Delle offered somewhat weakly, looking back down at their entwined hands; she was surprised that he still let her hold them. “I’ve been living in the dark as much as you have, Brandon.”
Her words made him blink, and she felt him go stiff. She could sense that he was going to speak, but she shook her head.
“Don’t apologize.” She whispered. “Your anger and frustration is justified. I should’ve told you when Zanthia told me.”
“Because that would’ve made things better.” He scoffed, finally pulling his hands away only to pull her into a hug. “But you did the right thing.”
Delle froze in his embrace but a second before snuggling into his chest. She kissed his shoulder, her fingers digging into the fabric of his vest. He started the touch of her lips, but instead of gently pushing her away, Brandon was surprised to find himself tipping her face up.
Her heart threatened to burst from her chest, but Delle willingly allowed him to bring her lips closer to his. She could feel him shaking under her touch, which startled her enough to pause. What was happening? Their faces were inches apart; if either of them even flinched, their lips would touch.
“Delle,” Brandon whispered, his hand gently cupping the side of her face.
Before she could make any sort of movement, there was a shrill sound behind them. They flew apart, Brandon keeping a protective arm in front of her as the sound echoed into the room. Delle released a short squeal upon seeing a man approaching them. His green was a sickly, dark green, his eyes as red as her hair. What made it worse was the saw that he was scrapping against the marble walls; at least she knew where the sound was coming from now. Not that it made her feel any better.
“Brandon, I have your saw!” The man announced, his mouth spread open in a garish smile as he brandished the saw at them both.
“That’s okay, Herman.” Brandon answered calmly; Delle found herself impressed with his bravery for the second time, although she hoped he was far less brash about it. “You can keep it.”
“But I sharpened it, just for you!” The man, Herman, insisted before taking a couple more steps towards them.
Delle gasped, clutching Brandon’s arm tighter. Herman only had eyes for Brandon, she took notice, but she did not doubt that he would be after her soon enough. Instead of shrinking back like she was, Brandon reached under his vest and pulled out an amulet the size of a small apple. Four gems were embedded in it, the colors of gold, blue, red, and purple.
Never before had she seen such an amulet, but the magic rooted within each of the gems was enough to knock her off her feet. Her lips parted in amazement as Brandon cradled the amulet between his hands. With his head bowed slightly, Delle watched as the gold gem flashed. She cried out in surprise, golden sparkles of magic floating up into the air then directly towards Herman.
The man’s face contorted in confusion as the magic danced about him, but before he could react further, his chin hit his sternum as sleep overtook him. His arm wielding the saw fell limp at his side, and while Delle expected him to fall over he remained standing. At first, she doubted that he was unconscious when a sharp snore came from his bent head. She gasped at the sound, pulling unconsciously on Brandon’s sleeve.
“He should be fine when he wakes,” He murmured to her as way of explanation. “This has come quite handy, I can promise you.”
Brandon turned the amulet towards her, the four jewels winking up at her. She gave the sleeping green man a weighted glance before taking her eyes away from him. Brandon gave a chuckle at her hesitation.
“It’s alright, he won’t wake up for quite some time. And when he does, he will be back to normal, harmless old Herman,” Brandon paused, silently urging for her to meet his eyes. “I promise.”
Delle ducked her head down shyly, her blush flushing across her cheeks. She nodded at him, cupping her hands together in a bowl.
“May I?”
In response, Brandon placed the amulet in her hands, the chain snaking between her fingers to dangle. The second the gems touched her skin, Delle had to suppress a shriek. The magic was overwhelming, nothing she had ever been faced with before. It was probably all the magic was left in the entirety of Kyrandia.
“Oh!” She gasped, nearly dropping the amulet as she turned back towards the room, towards- “Zanthia!”
Closing her fingers around the gems, Delle whirled around and dashed back into the room draped in purple. Brandon followed suit, shocked at her outburst. He came in to see her standing in front of the mystic. Delle looked back at him over her shoulder with the most desperate look he had ever seen on her.
“Can one of these gems turn her back?” She demanded, shaking the amulet in his face. “Can one turn her back to normal, please, Brandon?”
“Not her too…” Brandon could only whisper, his eyes sad as he took in the mystic. “Delle, I’m sorry. I can’t help her, nor any of the other mystics-“
“What!” Delle cried, one hand still clutching the amulet while the other wrapped around Zanthia’s stone shoulder. “Not Darm and Brynn, too? That maniac got all of them?”
“I have to defeat Malcolm to save them, including my grandfather.” Brandon reached out expectantly, his tone steely.
She could only stare at him incredulously, his words slowly registering in her brain. It was too much for take at once. It wasn’t until Brandon’s hand was around her own that Delle snapped to. With a start, she opened her hand. The amulet shifted into Brandon’s grasp, and with a simple motion, had it back around his neck and under his vest.
“I want to save them as much as you, Delle.” He said softly, turning her away from Zanthia’s frozen form. “And I need to do that alone. Malcolm is too dangerous, please do not try to argue with me on this-“
Not completely knowing why, Delle wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. He gave a muffled cry at the kiss, but he gave no other sign of halting her advances. On the contrary, it didn’t take long for his hands to find their way to her waist. He tugged her closer to his body, and it was all Delle could do to pin him to the wall. Then, it was no surprise that Brandon pulled away first.
“Was that for good luck?” He murmured, both breathless as they took each other in.
“Was that a promise that you’ll come back to me?” She shot back, her fingers tickling the hairs at the nape of his neck.
“I’d like to think so,” Brandon replied proudly. “But, in my defense, you did kiss me first.”
“For good luck.” Delle smiled, but it soon fell. “You will be okay, won’t you?”
His eyes darted to the side of her face, his gentle fingers reaching up to tuck her red hair back into her headband. Delle had to fight back the urge to swat his hand away as he avoided her question far longer than necessary.
“Brandon.”
“I have grown stronger since the last time I faced him.” The hint of doubt in his voice did nothing for her nerves
“You mean the fountain?” Delle shuddered at the memory of the jester’s crazy eyes and Brandon’s arrogance. “Brandon-“
“I really have, Delle.” He ran over her worries, pulling the amulet free again from the confines of his vest. “I only had one gem when we came across Malcolm at the fountain. Now I have all four.”
She stared at the amulet, about to question as to where the gold gem had gone when it shimmered back into existence. Made sense that the magic had to revitalize itself, Delle supposed silently. She raised her mismatched eyes up to meet the dark ones of this lost prince, of her lost fiancé. Determination blazed in those eyes, underlined with a hint of vengeance. Seeing that frightened her.
“Remember, Brandon.” Delle put her slender, callused hands around his fingers holding the amulet. “This is not some personal vendetta for you to avenge the deaths of your parents.” He made a face at her words, but she continued on before he could lie by denying it. “This is to save your kingdom, your people. Promise me you won’t let retribution blind you any longer.”
Delle watched as Brandon’s jaw clenched and unclenched, his eyes locked on their entwined hands with the amulet between them. It felt like hours passed before he managed to look back up at her with a little less fire in his eyes.
“Only if you promise to make good on the arrangement that our parents made.” He finally said with a smirk.
She blinked, his words catching her completely off guard. Her hands dropped from his unconsciously, her body going limp with surprise. He misunderstood the gesture, however, Delle saw as his face became drawn while he tucked the amulet away once more.
“I would not make you do anything you don’t want to, Delle-“
“I accept.” The words couldn’t leave her lips faster, her hand twiddling with her silver bracelet. “We were betrothed by the late king and queen, may they rest in peace, and I am not one to go against a royal decree.” She glanced around before leaning in like a conspirator. “And, I’ve heard that the prince is quite the catch.”
A toothy smile broke across his face, leaning closer to kiss her temple then her cheek then her nose and then finally her lips. She reached up and put a hand on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss into something less flirtatious and more passionate, tender. Brandon melted into her embrace, and it took all their beings to pull away.
“Please come back to me,” Delle begged, her voice soft and ragged.
“I swear.” Brandon promised, his fingers tracing her cheekbone. “And you have to stay here, where you’re safe.”
“With that green goblin standing guard at the door?” Delle snorted, pointing a finger over Brandon’s shoulder. “If I could just leave this spooky palace that would be great.”
“You can’t leave until Malcolm’s magic is dispelled.” Brandon’s voice hitched up in fear, holding her tighter till she looked back at him. “There are stone dragons watching the gates that’ll attack anything that moves. You have to stay in the castle, Delle.”
“Well, I’m certainly not staying in the same room as my mentor-turned-statue!” She shouted back, her heart contracting as she looked back at Zanthia. “There has to be at least one room in this castle that isn’t draped in terror with mystic statues propped up in the corner.”
Brandon nodded, his features softening as his initial fear for her safety faded. He turned her away from Zanthia again, his hands gentle on her shoulders. His fingers unconsciously brushed her bare shoulder, sending even more chills down Delle’s spine as they walked past Herman. She shrunk away from the sleeping man in the narrow doorway, gathering up her skirts at her opposite hip so they didn’t swish across his legs. Brandon fought back a laugh at her expense, choosing instead to kiss the top of her head.
“I’ll take you to Zanthia’s old room, there’s no one in there,” He quickly assured Delle as he felt her stiffen under his touch while they made their way down the corridor. “I think you’ll like it a lot, actually.”
She didn’t respond, too entranced with the great hall that opened up to them. The apprentice stopped at the top of the grand staircase, her eyes wide as she took in the castle. Sconces lined the balconies overlooking the great hall, covering the open area in eerie candlelight. Tarnished, gold candelabras hung from the vaulted ceiling, the candles resting in them unlit. Underneath all the cobwebs and darkness, Delle could picture how beautiful the castle must’ve looked before Malcolm murdered the king and queen.
A sharp cackle echoed throughout the hall, breaking Delle free of her reverie, and Brandon all but shoved her across the balcony towards the other corridors.
“We have to hurry,” Brandon told her urgently as they practically jogged into Zanthia’s bedroom. “I don’t see him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not close by.”
Two, teal colored rugs were strewn about the floor, dust tinting the fabric a dark shade. An impressive fireplace was against the wall on the left, sooty bookshelves standing guard on either side. Various knickknacks were scattered about the shelves and mantle, from bottles to a jewelry box to a bright green ankh sitting above the fireplace. Fat, teal candles flanked the ankh like sentinels. Zanthia’s bed took up the remainder of the room, her sheets the same color as the rug and candles. Sheer curtains, a couple shades lighter than the sheets, hung above the headboard. Spider webs covered the walls and window, and Delle felt her heart break again as she took in how her mentor’s room had fallen into such a state.
“Stay here, and I’ll come back for you when I’m done.” Brandon ordered, completely disregarding Delle’s grief.
He gave her another kiss, his lips quickly pressing against her temple, before spinning around and dashing out of the room. She turned around to shout something at him, but Brandon was gone. Delle stood there for a second, her mouth hanging open and hand outreached.
“…good luck, my prince.” She whispered to no one, dread settling in her veins as she lowered herself onto the filthy bed. “Please come back to me.”

Description
The Legend of Kyrandia Fanfiction
In the Castle
started 9/19/13
My head…where, where am I…?
Delle tried to open her eyes, but she instantly found that far too difficult for her to do. Instead, she attempted to look past her aching head to take in her surroundings blindly:
She was on the ground, lying on her side. It was cold and damp against her face; stone, she decided. The Mystic’s apprentice curled her cramped fingers, her skin scraping across the rough floor and catching on-
Carpet? Where the heck am I?
Pushing past the dull pounding at the back of her head, Delle finally managed to open her mismatched eyes slowly. She started upon the sight, sitting up sharply only to send a wave of ache through her head and down her spine. With a groan, she closed her eyes again and gingerly brought her fingers up to massage her scalp. It helped some, and when she opened her eyes once more it hurt far less.
But she still did not like what she saw.
“Zanthia-!” Delle gasped, jumping up to her feet only to stumble gracelessly back to the floor in a flurry of aches and skirts.
She groaned, pushing herself up slowly with her arms. When Delle raised her head, she released another sharp gasp for she really hoped she was only hallucinating. But, no, this was an awful reality.
Stone.
Zanthia was stone.
“What…?” The apprentice breathed, her headband falling into her eyes.
With an annoyed huff, Delle shoved the band haphazardly back up her forehead. Her fiery red hair did not play along, however, and she could feel how frizzy and messy it had gotten. Not that she cared even a bit with her mother figure standing before her encased in stone.
She took in the rest of the room of…wherever she was. Delle was facing a large window, framed by tattered and dusty royal purple curtains that were faded with age. A table was under it, an hourglass and a candlestick the only things there. She turned her head to the right, her eyes glazing over Zanthia as fast as she could. There was a painting on the wall of a man she had never seen before, although he had the looking of a knight. Perhaps it was King William, Brandon’s father. The carpet she was laying on was the same shade of purple that garbed the room, but the most intriguing sight was the large set of bells that stood just inside the doorway.
The apprentice was still inspecting the bells from her place on the floor when she heard the scuff of approaching footfalls. With wide eyes, she managed to dart up from the ground, holding onto the bells’ support beam for her own support. The sound came closer, and Delle desperately began to search for a weapon, the thought of using her weak magic escaping her completely.
The mallet.
She snatched at the bells’ mallet, the shaft long enough for both of her slender hands to grasp it. Her mismatched eyes stayed locked on the doorway, waiting for the person as the sound came closer and closer…
The figure stepped into the doorway, and Delle released a scream worthy of banshee as she raised the mallet over her head to bring it down on the head of-
“Brandon!” She gasped, barely stopping the mallet from smashing in the prince’s skull.
“Delle-!” Brandon was just as surprised, unconsciously reaching up to make certain that the mallet wouldn’t meet its mark.
His fingers curled around hers, and his touch sent a shock through her. With a yelp, Delle’s hands flew open. Startled, Brandon also opened his fingers, and they watched as the mallet thumped to the floor. For a second, they stared at mallet almost dumbly. Then, Delle glanced up at Brandon only to see him staring at her. He looked so serious, so unfazed…
“You’re not stone.” He breathed, his fear showing in those three words.
“Guess not.” Delle whispered, struck by his sudden show of trepidation. “Neither are you.”
Brandon visibly swallowed, bowing his head to watch his fumbling fingers. Without knowing fully why, Delle reached forward and took his hands in between hers. He started at her touch, that same shock coming back to jolt through them both. Keeping her eyes on their hands, Delle ran her thumbs over his skin.
“This was my home.” Brandon told her softly, his voice shaking slightly at her touch. “It, it brings back so many faint memories, and Malcolm, he…” Brandon paused to look at her in the eye. “We were to be married.”
Delle’s eyes grew large, and she nearly dropped his hands in surprise. She hadn’t told him that, and there was no time for Zanthia to spill the beans, was there? How did he know? She opened her mouth to ask him as much, but he started talking before she could get the words out.
“Malcolm told me, when I first arrived in the castle.” Brandon explained, his jaw clenching. “When I arrived in my home. He slides down the banister like he owns the place, mocking me and my family. He mentioned Herman, and the other Mystics. And then you.”
“Brandon, I-“
“Told me my bride-to-be was waiting for me, Malcolm did. I didn’t get it at first. Then he mentioned your fiery hair and mismatched eyes.” His eyes were kind, though his voice was still hard as he looked at her.
“I didn’t know until yesterday,” Delle offered somewhat weakly, looking back down at their entwined hands; she was surprised that he still let her hold them. “I’ve been living in the dark as much as you have, Brandon.”
Her words made him blink, and she felt him go stiff. She could sense that he was going to speak, but she shook her head.
“Don’t apologize.” She whispered. “Your anger and frustration is justified. I should’ve told you when Zanthia told me.”
“Because that would’ve made things better.” He scoffed, finally pulling his hands away only to pull her into a hug. “But you did the right thing.”
Delle froze in his embrace but a second before snuggling into his chest. She kissed his shoulder, her fingers digging into the fabric of his vest. He started the touch of her lips, but instead of gently pushing her away, Brandon was surprised to find himself tipping her face up.
Her heart threatened to burst from her chest, but Delle willingly allowed him to bring her lips closer to his. She could feel him shaking under her touch, which startled her enough to pause. What was happening? Their faces were inches apart; if either of them even flinched, their lips would touch.
“Delle,” Brandon whispered, his hand gently cupping the side of her face.
Before she could make any sort of movement, there was a shrill sound behind them. They flew apart, Brandon keeping a protective arm in front of her as the sound echoed into the room. Delle released a short squeal upon seeing a man approaching them. His green was a sickly, dark green, his eyes as red as her hair. What made it worse was the saw that he was scrapping against the marble walls; at least she knew where the sound was coming from now. Not that it made her feel any better.
“Brandon, I have your saw!” The man announced, his mouth spread open in a garish smile as he brandished the saw at them both.
“That’s okay, Herman.” Brandon answered calmly; Delle found herself impressed with his bravery for the second time, although she hoped he was far less brash about it. “You can keep it.”
“But I sharpened it, just for you!” The man, Herman, insisted before taking a couple more steps towards them.
Delle gasped, clutching Brandon’s arm tighter. Herman only had eyes for Brandon, she took notice, but she did not doubt that he would be after her soon enough. Instead of shrinking back like she was, Brandon reached under his vest and pulled out an amulet the size of a small apple. Four gems were embedded in it, the colors of gold, blue, red, and purple.
Never before had she seen such an amulet, but the magic rooted within each of the gems was enough to knock her off her feet. Her lips parted in amazement as Brandon cradled the amulet between his hands. With his head bowed slightly, Delle watched as the gold gem flashed. She cried out in surprise, golden sparkles of magic floating up into the air then directly towards Herman.
The man’s face contorted in confusion as the magic danced about him, but before he could react further, his chin hit his sternum as sleep overtook him. His arm wielding the saw fell limp at his side, and while Delle expected him to fall over he remained standing. At first, she doubted that he was unconscious when a sharp snore came from his bent head. She gasped at the sound, pulling unconsciously on Brandon’s sleeve.
“He should be fine when he wakes,” He murmured to her as way of explanation. “This has come quite handy, I can promise you.”
Brandon turned the amulet towards her, the four jewels winking up at her. She gave the sleeping green man a weighted glance before taking her eyes away from him. Brandon gave a chuckle at her hesitation.
“It’s alright, he won’t wake up for quite some time. And when he does, he will be back to normal, harmless old Herman,” Brandon paused, silently urging for her to meet his eyes. “I promise.”
Delle ducked her head down shyly, her blush flushing across her cheeks. She nodded at him, cupping her hands together in a bowl.
“May I?”
In response, Brandon placed the amulet in her hands, the chain snaking between her fingers to dangle. The second the gems touched her skin, Delle had to suppress a shriek. The magic was overwhelming, nothing she had ever been faced with before. It was probably all the magic was left in the entirety of Kyrandia.
“Oh!” She gasped, nearly dropping the amulet as she turned back towards the room, towards- “Zanthia!”
Closing her fingers around the gems, Delle whirled around and dashed back into the room draped in purple. Brandon followed suit, shocked at her outburst. He came in to see her standing in front of the mystic. Delle looked back at him over her shoulder with the most desperate look he had ever seen on her.
“Can one of these gems turn her back?” She demanded, shaking the amulet in his face. “Can one turn her back to normal, please, Brandon?”
“Not her too…” Brandon could only whisper, his eyes sad as he took in the mystic. “Delle, I’m sorry. I can’t help her, nor any of the other mystics-“
“What!” Delle cried, one hand still clutching the amulet while the other wrapped around Zanthia’s stone shoulder. “Not Darm and Brynn, too? That maniac got all of them?”
“I have to defeat Malcolm to save them, including my grandfather.” Brandon reached out expectantly, his tone steely.
She could only stare at him incredulously, his words slowly registering in her brain. It was too much for take at once. It wasn’t until Brandon’s hand was around her own that Delle snapped to. With a start, she opened her hand. The amulet shifted into Brandon’s grasp, and with a simple motion, had it back around his neck and under his vest.
“I want to save them as much as you, Delle.” He said softly, turning her away from Zanthia’s frozen form. “And I need to do that alone. Malcolm is too dangerous, please do not try to argue with me on this-“
Not completely knowing why, Delle wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. He gave a muffled cry at the kiss, but he gave no other sign of halting her advances. On the contrary, it didn’t take long for his hands to find their way to her waist. He tugged her closer to his body, and it was all Delle could do to pin him to the wall. Then, it was no surprise that Brandon pulled away first.
“Was that for good luck?” He murmured, both breathless as they took each other in.
“Was that a promise that you’ll come back to me?” She shot back, her fingers tickling the hairs at the nape of his neck.
“I’d like to think so,” Brandon replied proudly. “But, in my defense, you did kiss me first.”
“For good luck.” Delle smiled, but it soon fell. “You will be okay, won’t you?”
His eyes darted to the side of her face, his gentle fingers reaching up to tuck her red hair back into her headband. Delle had to fight back the urge to swat his hand away as he avoided her question far longer than necessary.
“Brandon.”
“I have grown stronger since the last time I faced him.” The hint of doubt in his voice did nothing for her nerves
“You mean the fountain?” Delle shuddered at the memory of the jester’s crazy eyes and Brandon’s arrogance. “Brandon-“
“I really have, Delle.” He ran over her worries, pulling the amulet free again from the confines of his vest. “I only had one gem when we came across Malcolm at the fountain. Now I have all four.”
She stared at the amulet, about to question as to where the gold gem had gone when it shimmered back into existence. Made sense that the magic had to revitalize itself, Delle supposed silently. She raised her mismatched eyes up to meet the dark ones of this lost prince, of her lost fiancé. Determination blazed in those eyes, underlined with a hint of vengeance. Seeing that frightened her.
“Remember, Brandon.” Delle put her slender, callused hands around his fingers holding the amulet. “This is not some personal vendetta for you to avenge the deaths of your parents.” He made a face at her words, but she continued on before he could lie by denying it. “This is to save your kingdom, your people. Promise me you won’t let retribution blind you any longer.”
Delle watched as Brandon’s jaw clenched and unclenched, his eyes locked on their entwined hands with the amulet between them. It felt like hours passed before he managed to look back up at her with a little less fire in his eyes.
“Only if you promise to make good on the arrangement that our parents made.” He finally said with a smirk.
She blinked, his words catching her completely off guard. Her hands dropped from his unconsciously, her body going limp with surprise. He misunderstood the gesture, however, Delle saw as his face became drawn while he tucked the amulet away once more.
“I would not make you do anything you don’t want to, Delle-“
“I accept.” The words couldn’t leave her lips faster, her hand twiddling with her silver bracelet. “We were betrothed by the late king and queen, may they rest in peace, and I am not one to go against a royal decree.” She glanced around before leaning in like a conspirator. “And, I’ve heard that the prince is quite the catch.”
A toothy smile broke across his face, leaning closer to kiss her temple then her cheek then her nose and then finally her lips. She reached up and put a hand on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss into something less flirtatious and more passionate, tender. Brandon melted into her embrace, and it took all their beings to pull away.
“Please come back to me,” Delle begged, her voice soft and ragged.
“I swear.” Brandon promised, his fingers tracing her cheekbone. “And you have to stay here, where you’re safe.”
“With that green goblin standing guard at the door?” Delle snorted, pointing a finger over Brandon’s shoulder. “If I could just leave this spooky palace that would be great.”
“You can’t leave until Malcolm’s magic is dispelled.” Brandon’s voice hitched up in fear, holding her tighter till she looked back at him. “There are stone dragons watching the gates that’ll attack anything that moves. You have to stay in the castle, Delle.”
“Well, I’m certainly not staying in the same room as my mentor-turned-statue!” She shouted back, her heart contracting as she looked back at Zanthia. “There has to be at least one room in this castle that isn’t draped in terror with mystic statues propped up in the corner.”
Brandon nodded, his features softening as his initial fear for her safety faded. He turned her away from Zanthia again, his hands gentle on her shoulders. His fingers unconsciously brushed her bare shoulder, sending even more chills down Delle’s spine as they walked past Herman. She shrunk away from the sleeping man in the narrow doorway, gathering up her skirts at her opposite hip so they didn’t swish across his legs. Brandon fought back a laugh at her expense, choosing instead to kiss the top of her head.
“I’ll take you to Zanthia’s old room, there’s no one in there,” He quickly assured Delle as he felt her stiffen under his touch while they made their way down the corridor. “I think you’ll like it a lot, actually.”
She didn’t respond, too entranced with the great hall that opened up to them. The apprentice stopped at the top of the grand staircase, her eyes wide as she took in the castle. Sconces lined the balconies overlooking the great hall, covering the open area in eerie candlelight. Tarnished, gold candelabras hung from the vaulted ceiling, the candles resting in them unlit. Underneath all the cobwebs and darkness, Delle could picture how beautiful the castle must’ve looked before Malcolm murdered the king and queen.
A sharp cackle echoed throughout the hall, breaking Delle free of her reverie, and Brandon all but shoved her across the balcony towards the other corridors.
“We have to hurry,” Brandon told her urgently as they practically jogged into Zanthia’s bedroom. “I don’t see him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not close by.”
Two, teal colored rugs were strewn about the floor, dust tinting the fabric a dark shade. An impressive fireplace was against the wall on the left, sooty bookshelves standing guard on either side. Various knickknacks were scattered about the shelves and mantle, from bottles to a jewelry box to a bright green ankh sitting above the fireplace. Fat, teal candles flanked the ankh like sentinels. Zanthia’s bed took up the remainder of the room, her sheets the same color as the rug and candles. Sheer curtains, a couple shades lighter than the sheets, hung above the headboard. Spider webs covered the walls and window, and Delle felt her heart break again as she took in how her mentor’s room had fallen into such a state.
“Stay here, and I’ll come back for you when I’m done.” Brandon ordered, completely disregarding Delle’s grief.
He gave her another kiss, his lips quickly pressing against her temple, before spinning around and dashing out of the room. She turned around to shout something at him, but Brandon was gone. Delle stood there for a second, her mouth hanging open and hand outreached.
“…good luck, my prince.” She whispered to no one, dread settling in her veins as she lowered herself onto the filthy bed. “Please come back to me.”