( 12 ) CASTLE ERET ✘
ERET x 2ND POV READER

( abandoned areas, eerie vibe )

SOMEHOW, YOU FELT A LITTLE COLDER.

RUMOURS SPOKE OF an abandoned castle sitting atop a small hill with stone walls that crumbled and wooden floorings that creaked under the foreign weight of unwanted visitors. Whispers carried by the crisp, spring winds, rustling the soft leaves of trees that had seen so much, telling stories about a wrongfully crowned king, who'd been gifted power far too great for him. History books told tales of heeled leather boots that wandered the halls and colourful banners draped over what had once been a great fortress, now wore down from the harsh winters and sweltering summers.

You'd been intrigued. A castle that had housed a traitor? How peculiar. It wasn't very often that people like them were accepted into society, nevermind turned into those who ruled over it. It had to be a very special case in order for that to happen.

There were explanations, of course. Written in the margins, an afterthought to quick judgments and opinionated statements. Most historians didn't bother to include the why; they were usually more focused on the when, the where, and the who. Facts were facts, after all. Why would you need to know the why when you had the hard 'truths?' And who in the world would want to go search a dusty old castle built from lies and betrayals anyway?

The answer to that question was rather simple, really; you.

You weren't foolish enough to mistake the words of a historian who hadn't even taken the time of day to visit the ancient monuments themselves as the truth. And, well, to put it bluntly, you were curious. What exactly had been so special about this one person that they'd been granted such power for giving a tyrant such a measly piece of information? ( At least, that was what the historians had written. ) Why had their ruling come to an end so quickly, with their reign lasting less than a year? What about them was so special?

The battered soil shifted underneath your weight and the eerie silence of the place twisted your gut as you gazed up at the towering frame of the-compared to all the ones you'd seen before-oddly small castle, eyes darting here and there in paranoia as if you were expecting the traitor king-who had to be long dead by now-to appear out of nowhere and spill your secrets to the entire world, just like he had done to a failed nation. And, steeling yourself and pursing your lips, looking into the dark, unlit hallways, you took your first step in.

For one thing, it seemed much larger on the inside than it had looked on the outside, which confused you for a few moments before you remembered the effect the arched ceilings above you brought. An air of importance seemed to fill the empty hallways, and the musty smell that usually settled over places like these ( abandoned places ) assaulted your nostrils-it was accompanied by the dust that seemed to be everywhere and kicked up from the movement of the soles of your shoes against the worn wooden flooring-causing you to cough for a few minutes, and you stopped in your tracks, letting your lungs adjust to the change from the cold wind outside to the stuffy air inside.

Eyes scanning the hallways that stretched from either side, you were pleased to find that the floors were clear of the tracks you so often found marking the grounds of other old palaces or structures. Thieves and bandits and those in desperate need of money usually sacked places like these, rifling through dusty shelves and ancient rooms in search of items of value. But this particular castle you were standing in right now, with its sturdy, stone walls and lanterns long blown out by the stinging winter winds, seemed untouched. Almost lost to time. Maybe the rumours had scared away any ransackers; maybe the tracks had just been washed away by the rain that surely pooled over the varnished wooden planks. But you had a feeling it wasn't so.

There was a certain feel to the place-you may have been imagining it, but it felt. . . colder than the other buildings you've been to. Unfulfilled. There was a chill that settled deep in your bones; it rattled you, and it terrified you, and it had your hands trembling, and when you breathed out, sure that there would be a puff of warm air emitting from your lips like there always was when you felt this cold, there was none. There was no small cloud of warmth that formed in front of you; no confirmation that this was just a trick of the weather.

Somehow, you felt a little colder.

Walking faster, the quiet slap of the leather soles of your boots echoed in the halls, bouncing back at you from all directions. You didn't like it here, you decided. Even though it had been only moments ago that you'd thought that this place was intriguing-only moments ago that you'd stepped into the silent palace with a small, smug grin and your nose going red from the dust blowing everywhere-it felt too empty. It was too eerie; too undisturbed. You really didn't like it here, at all.

You were almost running now. You needed to get to the place with the information you needed, and you wanted to get there now. Perhaps it was the chill of the place that had driven the thieves and the stragglers away. Perhaps it was the way that the floorboards creaked too loudly; the way the sounds of the scrambling rats and mice were missing throughout the entire place. Perhaps it was the way that, despite all the years that have passed, the vines and weeds that coated the other places you'd been to refused to grow across this one. Or perhaps people were just too scared to come visit the long-forgotten palace that carried whispers of a traitor king and an unjust rule.

Forcing yourself to slow down, your footsteps turned stiff, and you shivered as a cold breeze brushed past your flushed cheeks. Your eyes scanned the hallway; you'd taken a few lefts and rights in your desperation to get to the library, and your throat constricted in anxiety. Oh, how you hated being lost. You looked around for some sort of direction or map-you only hoped that they'd posted those things back then too.

Signs were plastered across the walls-your stomach dropped as you realised that they weren't the kind you were looking for-and the decor of the castle lacked the usual paintings and fancy vases you frequently found gracing the hallways of other palaces. Everything here didn't seem as clean-cut or grandeur as the area you'd been in last had looked-maybe this was the servant quarters? Their assigned area for work at the palace?

A jumble of symbols lay engraved on the wooden sign stuck overtop the door you were facing, but you cursed as you realised that they were in an old language long abandoned. You traced your fingers across the inky black writing, before snapping your hand away and deciding, oh, why not, it's not as if I've got anything left to lose in this godforsaken castle, and pressing your palm flat against the spruce door. You pushed it open-

-and it was not at all what you'd expected it to be.

With red, silky curtains held up by shimmering golden railings, silver ribbons pulling them back to reveal a few precious rays of sunshine; a carpet streaked with red, orange, yellow, green, and nearly all the colours of the rainbow if it weren't for the silver that took place of the dark blue; a four poster bed large enough that those inexperienced would claim it were fit for a queen, but you know better-this mattress was fit for a king-covered in soft crimson sheets and decorated with plump, fluffy looking pillows; and portraits of a man with a warm smile gracing his features, you knew-this was the king's quarters.

You nearly stumbled back in surprise at the revelation, and the corners of your lips turned downwards as you thought why would he position his room in the crumbling section made for peasants? Why would the great, traitor king create such a grand, entrancing palace-however you could only assume it had looked grand and entrancing in the past, as the place looked ready to crash at any second now-just to build his room somewhere so. . . secluded? So rough-edged and dirty?

It looked like practically any typical royal's room-with the exception of the ravishing carpet and the custom portraits, of course. The layout was copied nearly furniture by furniture from one of the last places you'd been to-you couldn't remember the name though, which was unfortunate.

Hesitantly, you stepped forward, ignoring the chilling that seeped past the wooly fabric of your sweater, and brushed the dust away from one of the oaken, bedside drawers. The copper knob of the thing looked handmade-it didn't appear in any of the crafting recipes you could recall, at least. It twisted into something that appeared strangely similar to your family's crest; a crown intertwined with a striped banner. Thoughts swirled around your head, but you shoved them away and instead of giving them real speculation, you left them to rot in your subconscious, thinking them stupid and ridiculous. It was impossible; you didn't even want to entertain the possibility.

You gripped the handle, and you pulled; a cloud of dust that had once lay undisturbed now poofed at your face. After stepping back and letting it dissipate so you wouldn't descend into a coughing fit, your eyes widened at the dark blue journal that lay in front of you, and your stomach twisted, and you felt even colder than you had been before.

Picking the book up delicately as it looked so worn down and old you wouldn't be surprised if it turned into dust right before your eyes, the spine of the medium-sized journal curled in on itself from the many times it had been opened, and read, and closed, and over again. The edges of the pages were uneven and coated in a thin layer of dirt like it had rolled around in mud before you'd found. But that wasn't what had unnerved you so that you had pulled your sweater tighter around your trembling frame. No, what unnerved you about the whole ordeal, about the sight of the journal, was the red lettering that lay twirled across the cover, spelling out the traitor king's name with swirling letters and fancy flourishes.

Eret.

It didn't need any translation-you'd seen it enough times engraved in the rocky bricks stacked upon each other when the castle had come within your sight, written over and over again like some ward against evil above the entrance of the castle. People had always assumed it would be the traitor king's name, and now, staring at the yellowed journal laying in front of you with his name written out on the front with what looked eerily similar to blood with its ruby red shades, you could confirm those suspicions.

Another cold breeze flew in-you guessed it was from the window, yet you didn't notice how the stained glass was pulled shut and locked with a brass lock against its spruce windowsill-ruffled your hair, causing the strands to fly into your face, and you brushed them back roughly, eyes filled with a flurry of emotions undecipherable to any who saw you.

Now, it wasn't as if the chill from earlier had simply disappeared-no, it was quite the opposite actually. It lingered at the back of your mind, still freezing your bones and body from the inside, seizing your body and making you hesitate in each action you made.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

hello friends! it's been a while :')

- i wanna apologise for the slow updates. i got a rlly bad bout of writers block like the day after i announced i'd be taking some time off for school, and i had to work through that :'D i hope u guys understand and dont flame me

- but also! on the bright side!! my percy jackson x oc book will be starting in a few days! :D im rlly excited for it as well!! the other requests will be posted soon, i promise!! schools rlly stressing me a lot lol

-i hope u guys enjoyed this oneshot!! and the ones to come :) im sorry this was so short lol i rlly couldnt think of anything

- also thank u again to SUSHISOOT for helping me edit this oneshot, and also dealing with my Messy asf drafts!! it took some time but we did it :') despite the sad fact It wasn't even finished LFMAO the Next one will be finished i promise u guys lol

- i Think thats everything?? i Had a bunch of other stuff to say but i forgot HWHAHSHD

- its so weird to think that this is like. the twelfth oneshot. the last one was the Eleventh as well. i never thought id get ten oneshots dome, nevermind twelve lmfao :)

as always, ily all!!
lea

EDITED 2 AS OF 5.3.21 ( previous edits 01.18.07 )