A Game of Toys | Chapter 1


Spasms of sore muscles, and angry shouts prodded the boy to his senses, “Get up idiot, or do I have to kiss you?”  Rubbing his palms together, the Watcher gave a mischievous grin.

For a moment, a sudden pause of doubt wafted into his mind, that disappeared with a wave of disbelief crossed his mind as the draft of warm air creeping up his throat cleared his mind.  Trying to shout, he felt his body tense up, immobilizing himself.  Breathing hard, he ran until his eyes snapped open and gave an irritated glance at the Watcher, “Who do you think I am, ‘Sleeping Beauty’?  Last time I checked, I wasn’t.”

“Last time you checked,” he turned around to face the Watcher, who was rubbing his forehead gently, “you were probably dead.  And I wasn’t seriously going to actually do it.”

“The dead can’t think,” the boy said, furiously, trying to ignore the Watcher’s last comment.

A faint sigh streamed from the Watcher’s breath as he continued with a foul mood, “that is beside the point,” while quietly he added to himself, “accept that you also hurt me... and… do you have an iron head?  Why does it only hurt me…?”

“Then what is the point?  Get to it already.”  Wincing, he a nauseous feeling crept up from his bowels as a dark haze gathered before his eyes, closing them with tiredness.  Reopening them, he found himself in a dark room, where a lone chair sat with a woman’s back facing him.  Next to him, stood a young boy who could have been much like a younger version of himself.
Before her stood a large open window, almost as wide as the room itself, “promise me that you will remember this.”

“I will!”  An unbefitting solemn expression placed itself on the child face, considering that his age was no more than six.

Head bent over, she spoke in a hushed whisper, “You must never forget who you are, dear child, and must always remember to never utter your name.”

Not moving from his place, the child craned his neck, as if hoping to get a better look.  “I promise, but… why are you crying?”

“No matter what, I will always be praying for your safety.  Now go with my bless—.”  As the heavy oak doors blew open, her voice was cut off leaving the final word unknown, and the only sound remaining was that of his beating heart that resounded in the cold darkness.

As the haze dispersed, he rubbed his eyes and opened them to the Watcher’s peering face.  He jerked his head back, as a solid thump gave way to a blossoming of pain onto the back of his head, “don’t surprise me like that, please, and you were saying a moment ago…?”  There was a small, unnerving smile on his face.

“Hmmm…Your eyes look funny.  Did you see something, perhaps?”  Tapping his fingers between the boy’s dizzy eyes, he mused, and gave the boy a thoughtful glance.  Staring upward for a moment, his gaze slid back as he grabbed the boys elbow to prevent him from standing, “You aren’t going anywhere as of the moment, this is payback.”  Noticing the clueless face, he pointed to the angry bruise on his forehead.

Shrugging, he let off a loose stream of words, “so what if I saw something.  It doesn’t matter to you, and once again, what were you going to say earlier?”

“… I’ll find out eventually, as it affects me more than you.  Though, as for earlier, I was about to mention the need to new names, before you fainted, Princess.  These ones won’t work… well…”

“Fine, but don’t call me… Princess,” he said, shuddering, he felt his mind slip back to the haze—there was something oddly familiar about the room.

Raising an eyebrow, he shrugged; “Whatever you want to go by.  Regardless, I have already decided upon the names.  Well… actually it’s more as if it’s your name that needs changing.  Mine has already been set for a while, and for your own knowledge, that name would be Faust.  As for you, you’ll be going as Alarik, understood?”

“Yeah,” and then glared at Faust’s suspicious glance.