Yo~ It's been a while. I've been super busy with keeping my grades up and such. But I decided I should write this at 4 in the morning, so I'm sure it's full of errors. I did my best to correct any mistakes, but I probably missed a few. Enjoy :)

3. Step Up

Emil had never been so scared in his life.

Between the howling of wolves and the feeling of constantly being watched, his little nerves were strained and tired. When morning came he was exhausted, eyes heavy with sleep. The purple flame from last night burned lightly, so Emil got a better look at his room.

The bed was shoved into the farthest corner of the room with a dresser beside it. The fireplace was the centerpiece, sitting in the middle of the wall. A portrait of snow covered hills hung above the mantel. The room might have passed for cozy, if it hadn't been built inside the castle of the scariest man alive. Emil's eyes went back to the flames of the fireplace, which were now a faint blue. The logs in the fire were nearly dead, and the fire would extinguish soon. He wouldn't let that happen.

A bundle of wood sat beside the fire, tied together with twine. He pulled away the twine and added what he thought was necessary. The flames hiked up the wood, filling the room with heat.

Emil returned to the bed and warily wrapped himself in the wool blankets. The window was completely covered by ice and frost, keeping out all traces of the outside world.

He wanted to leave this room. He wanted to stretch his legs and run around. But he couldn't. Not with that horrible man roaming around, and who knew what kind of beastly servants he had. The King told him to stay here. And so he would.

~.~

It felt like hours. It had been hours. Emil didn't want to read anymore. He was only halfway done with his book of fairy tales, but he was so bored!

I had such a boring life. If I'd known it would end like this I would've wrestled a bear or something...

Knock, knock

Emil jumped out of his skin!

Knock, knock

Another faint tap on the door. Did he dare open it? Or should he wait until whoever was outside decided to break the door down? Both options sucked. Might as well get this over with... His tiny hand shook as he opened the door. His eyes landed on a pair of legs, covered by dark navy pants and brown-laced boots.

Curse his shortness!

Emil swallowed his fear and looked up. Glaring down at him was the Snow King. The child's knees shook as his baby blue eyes stared into the king's hard icy orbs. The king moved from the doorway. "Go." he ordered.

"W-Where?" Emil stuttered.

"Wherever I tell you, brat. Go." He never raised his voice, but Emil felt the power and command in it, stinging and prickling against his skin. He began walking forward, only to have the king speed-walk ahead of him, leading them away from the Housing and into the Throne Room. The room was enormous, and in the middle of it sat the Throne itself. A few steps led up to the seat, which the king ascended quickly. His navy cape billowed behind him, tiny snowflakes falling off the tips of the fabric. The King glared at the child from his seat, and gave a slight shake of head. Distasteful. That's what he thought of Emil.

The King slowly raised his hand and twirled his fingers in a circle, creating a baby snowstorm, no bigger than a goat. The snow spun and swirled until it clumped together and morphed into a chair. The King beckoned him with a hand, and cautiously, the boy ascended the steps and sat in the chair. It was soft, and slightly warm.

A few minutes passed. No one said anything. It was deathly quiet.

Only the child's occasional breath could be heard.

Emil couldn't remember how long they sat like that, side by side, in absolute silence.

But he abhorred every second of it.

~.~

Finally, the King spoke.

"Tell me, brat, what did you do in Arrette before you were chosen?"

"..."

"Answer me."

"I-I'm an orphan, so I didn't do anything. I stayed in the home all day and night, waiting -"

"For a home."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Emil stared ahead, but from the corner of his eye, he could see the King was watching him.

"And what did you do in your free time?"

Emil wanted to lie, to say he'd done exciting things like adventurers and heroes, but the most heroic thing he'd ever done was clean the basement of the orphanage.

"I like to read. Myths...and fairytales."

"I see. Is that all you did?"

"Yes, sir. There wasn't much more to do than that..."

"..."

"Tell me, Emil. Have you ever been in pain?"

The air suddenly grew thick, suffocating. It was harder to breathe. And it was cold. So, so cold...

"Yes, s-sir..." His teeth clattered against each other. It was freezing! It was so warm and soft a second ago...

"Real pain? It hurt so much that you cried? That you cried for parents who weren't there? Hm, how sad, really..."

The boy didn't say anything, just sat there and listened.

"You're alone for a reason, don't you think? And look at yourself, who would want you? You're just a hot-blooded brat who doesn't know how to take care of himself. And they send garbage like you to me, of all people. Pathetic..."

Say something... Say something to that jerk!

He wanted to. He wanted to make a smart remark to the King, but didn't want his head to roll just yet. After all, the King wasn't finished speaking. He stood from his throne and descended the steps. The heels of his boots clanked against the marble floors as he walked away from the child.

"Go back to your room. I'm done with you." Permanently.

Emil stood. His shoulders quivered, he was so scared, his blood was rushing through his veins. As he stepped down, and headed to his room, and looked at the retreating back of the King. He hated this man.

"You're alone for a reason, too," Emil whispered, so quietly, he barely heard himself say it.

Something grabbed him by the throat. Something was choking him, squeezing the air from his lungs. He looked up, and met the angry glare of the King's piercing blue eyes. They tore him apart, bit by bit.

"Say that again..."

This was it. Emil could feel it in every ounce of his being. The King was ready to kill him, it was unavoidable. But if he was going to die, then it wouldn't hurt to say what he thought.

Blood trickled from his lips, and he spat on the King's feet. "It's you. You're the pathetic one... You have to force people to come here, because everyone hates you! I don't have parents, but I have friends! And you can't change that. Do what you want to me, but I hope you hurt from it. I hope you hurt, knowing that you'll be alone forever, that no one will ever love you, that you'll always be a sick bastard until you die and no one will miss you once you're gone!" Emil cried, salty tears pouring from his eyes. While he'd been yelling, the grip on his throat loosened. Nothing was choking him anymore. His bloody spit had dried on the King's boots, and his muffled coughs were heard throughout the entire castle.

The King's eyes were wide. This...disgusting, ignorant... child, just spoke to him that way. He wanted to kill the brat, thrust his arm through his chest and rip his heart out, grab his neck and twist until his head ripped off, rip his tongue out and watch him bleed to death.

He wanted to slap that nasty face. Bruise it until it was blacker than coal. But he couldn't.

He wanted to. He really wanted to.

But he couldn't.

Ah~ Thanks for reading :) Please leave a review and speak your mind!