Artemis is grateful that he rises early. After what transpired yesterday, he doesn't want to risk learning what has become of Mr. Barnette or any of his family. As he heads into the Grim Woods, he hopes that he won't return to horrible news. Then again, there is rarely ever any good news anymore. Either fae are causing trouble or the people are sick and hungry. Even with the ending of the Crimson Plague, the north of Valsinya struggles to make ends meet. Too many lost to keep up with demand and too many losing their homes because the rich couldn't care less about their problems. Artemis' own landlord has doubled the price of their land. He'd complain, but he fears the mansion on the hill. One issue atop another. Maybe that is another reason Artemis prefers the Grim Woods.

After the incident with the red caps, Artemis has been more on guard. Today he doesn't plan to do much hunting. He's visiting the white tree, repeating over and over that this will be the last. He'll talk to the sleeping boy because, apparently, that isn't a sign that he is going mad, then he'll never visit again.

He descends into the tunnel with another rope tied to the roots above. The prince remains the same, trapped in the ice sitting within a globe of eternal winter. Although snow falls, the cold isn't nearly as bad as one would expect. Artemis' nose doesn't sniffle and his fingers don't turn red. There's an odd warmth. Fae magic that he will never try to comprehend, just like he can't begin to guess that the prince hears him within the coffin.

Have you returned to clean the cobwebs, stranger? the prince wonders, sensing Artemis growing closer. Instead of cleaning cobwebs, why don't you find a way to release me? I promise not to kill you. Severely maim, perhaps. Surely you will forgive me for my transgressions for it has been so long since I've had any fun.

Artemis approaches the coffin, looking up at the sleeping prince. Once Artemis conversed with anyone willing to listen, or anyone unfortunate enough to be stuck with him. He weaved tales of tiny critters with jeweled eyes under the floorboards and wisps of smoke in the shapes of maiden dancing through the sky. When he was sad, he cried. When he was angry, he shouted. When he was curious, he asked. When he felt, he showed it. But not anymore. Now he hides everything that may be used against him behind a mask smoothed to perfection over the years. But a mask only hides your face, it doesn't silence your screams.

"Hello," he finally speaks with an awkward wave that he regrets as soon as he does it.

If you are only here to exchange pleasantries, then take your leave. I rather go back to sleep, the prince quips.

"I didn't come to clean today. I came to talk, if that's alright... but I guess you can't tell me if it's alright or not, huh? How silly of me to even say that." Artemis scratches the back of his neck. His cheeks warm under the falling snow.

I find most of what mortals do to be positively preposterous so this is of no shock to me, but you are right. I have no say in the matter. Go on. Take a seat. Have a cup of tea.

Artemis lounges on the roots surrounding the coffin. They're thicker than he is wide, creating a comfortable backrest. He leans against them, peering into the open cavern. Snow falls, melting on the pale blue poppies that rest eerily still.

"Ok, here I go," Artemis whispers, picking at the end of his jacket. "I, uh, I had a friend once that I told everything. Although she often warned me not to trust her, she never did me any harm, and I sensed she never would. When she left, she gave me a gift, and a curse."

So she was fae. Every gift is a curse, but a curse is never a gift.

"My left eye allows me to travel the Grim Woods, to find my way home. Over the years I've come to feel so at ease in the woods, although only yesterday I saw the corpse of a child tortured and mutilated by the creatures within. Last night, I dreamt that I was him, screaming alone in the night. Is this guilt? Is it fear of what may become of me should I continue to risk the woods? Is it a bad omen?"

Asking questions to one that cannot answer is a bit counterproductive, wouldn't you say?

"If it is a threat or an omen, then does it mean I should remain in the village? But so-called normalcy isn't normal to me anymore. I'm isolated. My mother loathes the child that doesn't belong to her. The villagers I once called friends either fear me or want to use me. I'm close with no one and I fear being close with anyone." Artemis kicks the snow at his feet, watching it glitter in the air then descend. Sighing, he lowers his gaze, and his tone, "The truth is, I don't know where my home is anymore."

Sounds like you should consider relocating. Might I suggest the beach? The alcohol along the sea is second to none. One as dull as you is in dire need of a strong draught to make up for a lack of personality.

Sitting in silence, Artemis thinks over his own words and the nightmare that spurred this visit. He looks at the sleeping prince, admiring the haze of pale light. It reflects off the boy's circlet, forming a shimmering halo, but he knows better than to imagine a fae as angelic. They are the epitome of evil.

"Maybe it's not a threat or an omen at all," Artemis whispers. "Maybe my own dreams are trying to tell me how lonely I am. You can at least understand that, right?"

For once, the prince withholds his snide remark, even within his own mind.

Artemis hoists himself on the roots to face the boy. The sleeping prince's eyelashes are paler than his hair, shimmering like shattered glass against his cheeks. His shoulders are wide, waist thin, and legs long, no doubt taller than Artemis, probably older too.

"I keep thinking of you as the boy in ice or the boy under the white tree, but what might your name actually be?" Artemis asks, humming. "Snow?"

Because my hair is nearly white? How unoriginal, the prince gripes.

"Frosty?"

Now you're being rude. Be rude to another fae when I wake so I may enjoy the show.

"I'd feel awful if I gave you a name you didn't like." Artemis inspects the silver circlet perfectly shaped to the boy's head. The doublet is fitted to his slim form too. The dagger at his waist has a handle embedded with diamonds. Although Artemis didn't come up with a name, he has come up with a title.

"For now, you'll be my lonely prince and I, your lonely knight," he declares.

If the prince could roll his eyes then he would. Alas, all he can do is think; Oh, should I be honored to have a knight that cannot even wake his prince? Some can only hope to be as fortuitous as I.

Artemis backs away, thinking of the promise he made to himself. This is the last visit, although he said that the last time.

"Sorry, I shouldn't stay longer than this. I came to talk, but I guess even talking to a sleeping prince is difficult," Artemis says around a heavy sigh, although there is no denying that a weight has lifted from his chest, one he didn't realize was there earlier. "Sleep well, prince."

Artemis heads for the rope, but when he ascends to the tunnel and looks back, something calls to him. Maybe it's the lonely prince, or maybe it's his own loneliness that whispers.

"Maybe I'll come again," he says, swearing that the light of the cave brightens with his words, but he passes it off as his imagination.

Maybe the lonely prince and the lonely knight won't be so lonely anymore.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾