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Adrien gasped dramatically as the pillow hit him in the chest and paused, staring at her, then he quickly picked up another, picking it up by the corner and launching it at Farah.
"Take that!" He said as it hit her in the chin, and he whooped in a celebratory fashion.
Farah's mouth dropped open in shock. "Hey!" she exclaimed, reaching down to pick up the pillow that just hit her. "You have no idea what you started!"
Adrien threw another pillow then another, in rapid succession.
He then ducked and ran for the door, pulling open and then slamming it after him, her ran down the hall until finally her stopped. He hid behind a suit of armour.
Farah ducked to avoid the other pillows flying at her while throwing the one in her own hands. She cursed under her breath when it missed hitting Adrien, but she was grinning all the while.
“Get back here!” she cried out through laughter. She armed herself with two pillows and hurried to follow the king crowned out the door. Her eyes narrowed as she headed down the hall. “Adrien!”
Adrien quieted his breathing, something he had been good at since he was a child. To the point where it had to be completely silent for you to hear the slow sound of his breathing, but even then you could miss it.
He saw Farah coming down the hall and he smiled to himself, waiting for her to come closer.
Farah was by all means ready as she strode down the hallway. She had two pillows in her grip, and her eyes darted around for any sight of Adrien as she kept going. “Adrien,” she called again.
Adrien retreated further, accidentally hitting the metal of the armor with his foot, sending a small metallic sound into the air. He then took a gold coin out of his pocket and threw it at a suit of armor way ahead of him, where it hit another suit with a loud clang. He hoped she would run further, so he could retreat behind her as she looked. He noticed a door right across from him, most likely, he'd only have enough time to make it there, not all the way around the corridor behind them.
Farah jerked her head at the sound, quickly followed by another. Damn it, Adrien. She admitted to herself that this was childish, but she decided that she didn’t care. It was good, especially in a position like hers and Adrien’s to have a little childish fun every once in a while. She continued down the hall, turning her head slightly to catch a glimpse of him.
Adrien watched her and booked it across the hall, yanking open the door he had seen and running up the stone spiral staircase.
Once he was at the top, clutching his ledt side which had a stitch in it, he rammed through another door and then another, finally landing in a sewing room, where the women at the looms looked at him with surprise.
"Your majesty—" one young woman said and he held up his hand to stop her.
"I'm giving you all a significant pay raise if you tell me where I can hide successfully." Adrien said quickly.
One older woman pointed to a door, which led to a small room holding different fabrics and he entered it, shutting the door behind him.
He crouched down against the wall and waited.
(OMG I DIED XD)
Farah whirled around at the sound of footsteps and proceeded to give chase. She sprinted after him, hearing the sound of the doors opening and closing in quick, subsequent patterns.
With a wide grin on her face and determined to catch him, Farah continued to follow the sounds until she burst into the sewing room. Unbeknownst to her, she entered only seconds after Adrien had shut the door to the fabric closet.
“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise, seeing the women all at work at their looms. “Pardon me, but you wouldn’t happen to have seen His Majesty running through here, would you?”
She was sure she looked a sight, nearly out of breath from sprinting to follow him and holding the corners of two pillows, one in each hand.
One of the women pointed through the door next to the fabric closet.
"His majesty went that way," she said quietly. "He seemed very out of breath."
Farah nodded with acknowledgment. “Thank you.” She headed off quickly in the direction the woman had pointed in, looking for any sign of Adrien.
Adrien waited patiently until a woman who looked middle age opened the door.
"She has gone." She told Adrien, and helped him into a standing position.
"Thank you all, for your kind help and secret keeping abilities." He said to the room at large. "I will send extra gold to your home for payment. Or your rooms if you stay in the castle."
There were gasps of glee and Adrien smiled, waving goodbye to the women as he exited the room and went back down the staircase, out the door and back into his own quarters. Where he picked up the thrown pillows and resumed making his bed. He lay down, his hands resting on his stomach and his legs crossed at the ankles.
Unknown to Farah that Adrien had returned to his room and was relaxing in peace, she continued to stalk the halls in search of him. She had just turned a corner when a sharp voice from behind her caught her attention.
“Farah!”
She froze and turned around.
The man before her had short ash blonde hair and a chilling gray gaze. The commander of the kingsguard. Just the sight of him brought back an abundance of memories, each one painfully clear through her vision like it was the present moment. One rose above all the rest.
Her body hit the floor, and it took her a moment to push herself up onto all fours. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her blurring vision and spat on the ground. A red splatter appeared. Blood. A familiar iron taste in her mouth.
"Get up," a steely voice ordered.
She was panting, practically unable to draw in a breath.
"Get. Up," the voice repeated.
Slowly, painfully, she rose to her feet. There, across the floor from her, stood her least favorite trainer. Her father.
"You take hits like that in battle all the time." His cool voice rang in the sweat-stenched room. "If you take that long to get up, you're finished. Nothing more than a dull, unimpressive soldier."
She swallowed and set herself to defend against another of his attacks. Suddenly, the door opened behind him. In walked her mother, dressed in her absolute finest gown and makeup, the king and queen, and the crown prince – Adrien. She and Adrien locked eyes, and neither broke the gaze until a ruthless hit across the face caused Farah’s head to whip back, and she collapsed cold to the ground.
This time, when her body hit the floor, she didn't get up.
“What are you doing?” he asked, eyeing her demeanor and the pillows clutched tightly in her grip. His tone jerked her back to reality.
“Nothing,” she replied, trying to sound collected.
His eyes narrowed, and his next sentence sent chills down Farah’s spine. “Don’t lie to me.”
–
Farah eventually burst back into Adrien’s room, her eyes wide. She locked on the sight of him reclined on his bed and calmly relaxing.
“What the hell?” she demanded worriedly. “Where did you go?”
On her left cheek, a red blood blush was rising to the surface of her skin, and a shallow cut was edged near her right temple. And though Adrien couldn’t see it, her abdomen was patterned with old bruises, and a new one was beginning to emerge on her left side just under her ribcage.
(Wow… sorry, that's really long 😅 But… cue the angst and Farah's traumatic past)
Adrien looked at her lazily.
"Waiting for you, of course." He told her teasingly, speaking slowly. He sat up on his elbows and gazed at her.
"What happened to your face?" He asked and sat up fully, rushing on his knees and finally getting off the bed.
He stood a distance apart from her, then slowly closed it, until they were almost chest to chest.
He reached out a hand, his fingers outstretched then stopped. His fingers curled inwards as if they had been burned and he winced slightly at the up close view of her face.
Finally, he touched the skin around the cut on her temple and his face softened from anger and concern into sadness.
"What happened?" He whispered again and his eyebrows went up. "I want to know, right now."
“Nothing,” Farah answered his first question quickly. She remained still, almost shockingly so, as he approached her, but when he lifted his hand to her wound, she flinched away from the touch.
When his skin touched hers, she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. Her face heated with shame, but the blood blush in the hazy shape of a handprint was still distinguishable on her cheek
“I ran into my father,” she answered quietly. “He scolded me for slacking off on my duties and made sure I knew the consequences of such actions. But I’m fine, Adrien, really.”
(Farah is the personification of the “who did this to you?” trope 😂)
Adrien let his hand stay for a few moments, then slowly pulled it away.
"I want him gone." Adrien said angrily, snarling and turning away from her. "I'm sick of him thinking he's still your owner or something, you are not property."
Farah’s eyes widened slightly; she couldn’t help it. Adrien was firing her father. And he would only see it as her fault. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, and she inhaled slowly.
“Adrien…” she whispered, her stomach beginning to twist with a sick feeling of dread. Farah dipped her head, closing her eyes to hide the tears pooling in them. “Don’t…”
Adrien let out a slow breath.
"I won't." He said coldly. "But only because you asked me not to."
He turned back to her.
"You are not to take his abuse anymore. Do you hear me? If need be you stick by my side while he is around."
Farah sighed heavily with relief, and as she did so, the pain from her side flared up immensely. She couldn’t help her reaction as she winced and clutched the area her father’s sheathed sword had connected with.
“Dammit,” she moaned and cried out, nearly doubling over in pain.
Adrien's eyes widened and he ran to her, half carrying her to the bed, lying her down gently.
"Maybe you should take off your armour." Adrien suggested, and blushed a faint pink. "So we can see the wound and dress it correctly."
Farah inhaled sharply and winced again. “I’m fin—” She gasped as another bolt of pain shot through her side while she laid back. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she admitted through gritted teeth.
Slowly, she slipped off her breastplate and began to lift up the side of her shirt. Her eyes widened as she remembered the other bruises hiding beneath her clothes, and she quickly moved to cover them up again. “Actually, that’s not necessary.”
Adrien gave her a stern look.
"Farah." He said firmly. "We cannot dress the wound if we cannot see it."
“There’s no wound,” Farah insisted quickly, too quickly. “It’s probably just a small mark…”
The area throbbed with pain again, and Farah quickly lifted her hands to cover it. As she did so, her shirt lifted up a bit, and skin patterned with purple, black, and blue new bruises along with yellow and green old ones was revealed in a thin strip.
Adrien stared at the strip of skin for a moment and then looked up, meeting Farah's eyes with a solemn look.
"I know what abuse looks like Farah," he said calmly. "But that is not what I'm worried about right now. I am concerned about dressing your wound, we have no idea whether it could be fatal."
He paused and sighed.
"If it is the bruises you are worried about, you have no fear. I am one familiar with being inflicted with bruises myself, so please. Lift up your shirt so I can see the wound."