Chapter Text
Poppy wonders why she is here.
Her father, ruler of the Pop Kingdom bore two daughters: her eldest sister, Viva, and herself. Their mother was killed in an assassination by a neighboring kingdom which means Viva is heir to the crown. Poppy, however, is merely next in line should her father and Viva fall. She is not interested in claiming the crown nor does she care for the politics of the other kingdoms. And yet, she is kept behind the stone walls of the castle.
"It's for your own good." Viva once said to her.
"The world is not a safe place." Her father would agree with Viva.
She sighs.
It is a dark thought for contemplating her existence but she can't help it. Is life worth living if she cannot control it on her own terms? It's absurd. It had been two decades since the assassination, and not only had they killed those responsible, but they also made peace with the neighboring kingdom. It's not fair that she has to accept this fate.
During the day, she is constantly surrounded by watchful eyes - her father's guards, her personal handmaiden, and even her own thoughts are a barrier against her freedom. There have been times where she does manage to slip by only for Viva and her personal guards to swiftly catch her.
So now it's why she's here.
On dark nights where the castle is quiet, Poppy finds herself sneaking out of her bedroom and heading back towards the library of the castle where she can pretend that she is not a princess. Gone are the guards, Viva, the King who was once a hero in the Pop Kingdom, and anyone else keeping a watchful eye on her. Here, she is free to move about as she pleases.
Her soft purring fills the air as she gracefully glides out from between a maze of bookshelves, her nightgown trailing behind her. Her delicate paw gently caresses the spines of the books as she playfully hops along the aisle. The familiar touch and scent of the worn pages brings a sense of peace and tranquility, even in the quiet darkness of the night. Every step she takes seems to be in harmony with a soothing melody that she hums to herself, a tune that was once sung to her by her mother.
A cold wind blows around her as she makes her way towards the back. Poppy instantly stops moving, why would there be a cold wind in the library? A chill goes down to her spine and her eyes widen with surprise.
Someone is here.
Before she realizes it, the shadows move and a paw suddenly darts out of the darkness, grabbing her and slamming her against the bookshelf.
A sharp, startled squeak escapes her lips as the intruder forcefully pins her. His heavy paws rough against her skin, covering her mouth to silence any cries for help. His thick, dark hair bounds over her ponytail, preventing any movement of her own hair. With a single digit pressed to his lips, he signals for silence.
Ignoring, she attempts a scream, thrashing against the intruder's paws. It is no use, she couldn't get free. A voice whispers close to her ear, startling her.
"Shh," the voice commands. Her ear twitches at the unexpected gentleness of the command.
Poppy obliges for now.
She lifts her gaze and sees a figure in a black robe standing over her. The hood obscures his face, making it blend into the darkness, but his turquoise eyes stand out. Piercing and cold.
His aura exudes a dangerous presence.
Poppy's throat tightens as the intruder leans closer, pressing his second paw above her head. Their faces are inches apart, close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. Her skin prickles and she reflexively shuts her eyes. Her father and sister were right; the world isn't all cupcakes and rainbows like she had imagined. Thoughts of her loved ones races through her mind as she comes to the realization that this may be her last few minutes alive, at the hands of this intruder. A fate she once pondered but came to regret. She wonders if this is what her life has boiled down to after all this time.
A lifetime of reading books and attending to her family's needs, each day the same with the lack of excitement and fun. Though she is often frustrated with their overprotectiveness - if it could even be called that - she cares deeply for them. She envisions the aftermath of her death, and how her family will react when they see her lifeless figure on the ground. The thought of their grief and pain is something she never wants to burden them with. An intense desire to survive surges through her, her eyes open, and she quickly takes hold of his paw from her mouth. Her claws pierce into his skin, causing him to flinch for a moment - his hair and grip loosening as a result. In a swift movement, she uses her hair to deliver a punch and create distance between them. She attempts to run with the momentary distraction before she tries to yell for help. She is damned if she dies here without fighting back.
But just as quickly, the intruder bounces back and retaliates by using his own hair to wrap around her mouth, muffling her sounds. He pulls her closer and pinning her down the ground instead. His body is indecently pushing against her as he binds her wrist with his paws, his legs pressing between her own. His hood falls as he growls in annoyance. Poppy looks back up to his blue gaze and notice the color of his skin: dulled, blue as the night sky, and marked with many scars.
"I ask once more." He says, glaring down at her. "Be quiet."
She stays still. She couldn't fight back even if she tried in this position.
He studies her carefully, wondering if she will cooperate. He pauses, loosening his hold on her wrists to avoid causing any bruises, but still keeping her restrained.
"I have no intention of harming you," He says simply. "Do you understand?"
Their exchange is silent; he will release her if she remains quiet. It could be a trap, but she believes that if he wanted to kill her, he would have done so by now. Her option seems limited regardless so she nods slowly to show she understands.
The intruder watches her for a moment before he relaxes his grip, then slowly removes his hair and stands up from her. He places his hood back up, masking his face and expression. Poppy rubs at her wrist, takes in a breath, and stands before him. Under the moonlight peering through the window, she notices she's slightly taller than him. She opens her mouth to ask the questions that's plaguing her mind but he lifts his hand, reminding her of the deal that just took place.
Staying quiet. Right.
She shuts her mouth and trails behind him as he glides through the library. His cloak swishes behind him as she matches his pace, watching curiously as he pores over the enchanted books. She hears him muttering incantations under his breath to break the spells protecting the pages before enchanting them once again. It doesn't take long for her to realize that he is a mage, but she can't help wondering what he is searching for.
"I could help." Poppy speaks up without really knowing why. She's offering help to a complete stranger, someone she does not know but something about his demeanor— frantic, worried, and exudes urgency— that compels her to reach out. He is looking for help. Suddenly, he stops and looks over at the princess, seeming unsure if he should ask. After a moment of contemplation, he shakes his head and jumps onto the window ledge, disappearing into the darkness of the night.
She starts to follow, but then realizes he has put up the same enchantment that her family place to prevent her from following him.
A groan escapes her mouth before she returns to her room. Poppy wonders if she should tell her sister or her father about the intruder but decides against it. It's not like she would see him again.