When I awoke today, I was ready. Ready to find my son. As Dieudonnae greeted me, I greeted back in a haste, and even though I was more than ready. I agreed to breakfast first. But I will swear upon everything, that was the best breakfast I've had in years. Even if I couldn't enjoy it's entirety, coated with worry.
Soon we made our way to the revolting place in which my own name was known, Beggar's Alley. Hoping in my heart that we wouldn't find anything, to prove that Quincell was fine and maybe just rebelling. He's at that age. But my hopes were extinguished. On the ground, tangled in the bushes was the medallion I gave him at a young age. The one my father had given me, with my family's seal on it. At that moment I felt my heart crash to pieces, even if Dieudonnae saw a weakness. I didn't care.
But all of a sudden I felt a rage, clenching my fist hard around the metal with white knuckles. I knew who did this, it had to be that Carlsson, and I was going to kill him. I was ready to, even if it was a death wish, but soon Dieudonnae talked some sense into me. Convincing me it was a suicide mission, but I knew, where Carlsson had numbers, we had the will and urge to bring him down.
After we stood there for a few minutes, I escorted Dieudonnae back to her home, leaving my head low with my spirit crushed. But this would all change within a few minutes.
We stood in the servants quarters, just talking, but when she lifted my face to look into her eyes, something happened. A strange urge overtook me hat I never thought would happen again. I lifted my hands up to gently caress her cheeks, getting lost in her gaze. Then I kissed her, my heart fluttering inside my chest like a lovesick teenager. After a few moments, we both pulled away from each other, myself grinning like a fool.
After speaking a small bit afterwards, Dieudonnae retired to her quarters and I near skipped into the guest room. My day flourished in that moment, but something is telling me, it is going to plummet soon. But this may just be me being a pessimist.
