Chapter Text
Winter was over, and the heavy rain that pelted down the trees’ branches could only mean spring’s arrival. Each droplet created a small rivulet in between the slivers of grass, slowly accumulating into crystal-clear puddles.
In the middle of the vast, deep lush where this all took place sat a lonely cottage, hidden by all the heavy vegetation of the forest. It was beautifully crafted and seemed to be able to be inhabited by multiple people, yet the cottage’s only company was a scaled guard and his undying loyalty.
Pushing his back against one of the many tree trunks outside of the cabin, Pangi’s caught in a trance of some sort, daydreaming about his long-gone days of war and glory.
His unkept scales shiver at the thought of the PrinceZam Empire as a mix of nostalgia and dread flood his mind. A part of him yearns for those days to return, even if they weren’t the easiest to survive.
His heart craves to go back to being out in daylight, directing an army full of fierce soldiers while the sounds of swords colliding and trumpets singing filled the air. What he misses most, though, isn’t the military nor the victories, and not even the busy streets of the empire itself. It’s the prince.
She was always full of surprises. Some called her “a mix of beauty and danger”, “a wild card”, or even “a snake”. Yet to Pangi, she was perfect.
From her soft touch that could turn to rock-hard punches in the blink of an eye to her bold yet effective way of ruling, and down to every last bit of her, she mesmerized the soldier.
Pangi knew it could never be, as he was just another expendable soldier who’d probably die to a sword’s slash, yet he just couldn’t bring himself to stop falling for her. “We were just friends,” he’d remind himself constantly. It didn’t help that he was a high rank, and basically her right-hand man, so he’d spend most of his time fighting alongside her.
Oh, to be back in the practice arena, as his and Zam’s swords clashed and clanged…
…
Even though the soldier would never admit it, his hitherto ‘undying loyalty’ was slowly starting to fade away. His thoughts shifted from “When she comes back…” to “If she comes back…” and down to “Will she ever come back?”
You see, Pangi wasn’t just standing around, guarding an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere for fun. A couple of months ago— or maybe even years (He’d lost track of time at this point), his monarch ordered him to guard her shack. She explicitly said that she might not return, and so he was free to leave at any time.
Pangi’s heart broke when he heard her words. Even now, his stomach turns when recalling how defeated she sounded and how much the both of them had lost.
Despite not being obligated to stay, he felt as if he was chained down to the place, like a flightless bird with wings. The cottage was all the guard had left of his monarch and of the empire, and he wasn’t willing to lose it; to let the empire become part of a long-forgotten story nobody will tell.
He felt sick remembering it all. Everything that had happened, all that he lost; it haunted him like a ghost.
Raindrops began to fall on his head, and his boots began to get soaked by the puddles, which snapped him back to reality and swatted his long train of thought away.
“Maybe I should just get some rest,” Pangi reasoned with himself. He lay down wearily on the tree trunk, letting his body collapse and crash against the damp grass as he slowly closed his eyes and let his tiredness take over.
Goodnight, Pangi.