It was still dark when they arrived outside a small two-storey house in the outskirts of Basingstoke, Hampshire. Freddie drove the car inside the garage and closed the door behind them. He then led Serena to the living room, where he sat her down, while he took care of setting up the house for them. It appeared to have been empty for some time. Gas, water, electricity had all been turned off, and needed to be switched back on.
While he took care of this, Serena kept replaying the last few hours in her head. She relived all of it, her grandfather being shot and falling down, Freddie pushing her on the floor and covering her with his own body, her hands on her grandfather’s bloody chest. She looked at them as the lights came on; they were still soaked in his blood. She wept. She might never see her grandfather again and his blood was literally on her hands.
Freddie found her like that, dishevelled and crying as she stared at her bloodied hands. He took her gently and led her to the bathroom, where he helped her clean up, like she was a little child. When that was done, he led her upstairs to the master bedroom and laid her down on the bed, taking only her shoes off. He pulled the covers on top of her and for some reason not so incomprehensible to him, he felt compelled to caress her face just like her grandfather had done earlier. He proceeded to wipe the tears from her vacant eyes and then arranged her pretty hair. Her lifeless gaze was glued somewhere in front of her. Her sobs had not stopped for even a moment.
‘You need to get some sleep,’ he said gently. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.’
He made to leave, but felt Serena grab his hand before he could take a step.
‘Stay with me, please,’ she barely whispered. ‘I don’t wanna be alone.’
Her voice was weary; her sobs clearly had no intention of subsiding just yet. He knew he could not refuse her this one request. He took his shoes off as well and lay down beside her, slipping one arm underneath her and drawing her close.
He felt quite self-conscious all of a sudden. He wasn’t impervious to how beautiful she was; it had been the first thing he had thought of her, the moment he’d first laid his eyes on her. Spending time with her had not changed his mind either, you know, the way it happens sometimes when you find someone very attractive at first, but you lose that feeling the more you get to know them. If anything, Freddie found her more beautiful the more time they spent together. He was quite aware of his attraction to her, too, and it troubled him greatly. He could not afford to fall in love with this girl, not with what was planned for her. There could never be anything between them, it just wasn’t meant to be.
On the other hand, this might just make it a bit easier for him to do his job. He’d never been very good at pretending and he needed all the help he could get if he were to actually pull this off.
Beside him, Serena rolled around facing him and hid her head in his chest, her arms crossed before her. Freddie sighed. In a matter of hours, she had turned from a grown up beautiful woman into such a small thing, such a frail thing. He knew of nothing else that could do that but pain and sorrow. He wrapped his own arms around her and hugged her tight. Despite everything, he could not help but feel protective of her and did not wish any harm to come to her. He decided right then and there that, whatever he had to do, he would make sure that she would be alright in the end. Though, exactly how he would do that, he didn’t know yet.
Cradling her in his arms, he kissed the top of her head softly, cherishing the sweet smell of her hair, and whispered.
‘I’m here; I’m not gonna leave you alone.’
After the events that led to Bessie’s death, Drake's life changed drastically. His first thoughts were about ending his own life, too; after all, he no longer wanted to be in this world, and being abandoned by his foster parents and then killing his nanny made quite a compelling case for that option. He found, however, that he lacked the strength to go through with it. Either that, or he still loved life too much to part with it. He also wasn’t sure what would happen to his dreamworld if he died here; would it still go on, or would he simply stop existing? In the end, it did not matter, the urge eventually passed and he clang to life like a disease.
He spent the next couple of years travelling from town to town, sleeping in ghettos and under bridges, sometimes nestled next to a prostitute for the night. “Work” there was always plenty and when it came to stealing, he had no equal. He never got caught, or even suspected for that matter; his youthful and innocent appearance, as well as his good manners worked for him. He was bold and confident, and no one ever even thought of accusing him of thievery. The trick, according to him, was to never be greedy; he got just enough not to be a big issue, and never twice from the same person or place. In this manner he “earned” enough to keep himself fed and clothed, as well as entertained whenever he felt the need. But he made sure he put most of his earnings aside. He would need it for later.
Life in the real world was not the only one that changed for him; his dreamworld also followed suit. On the first day after the big event, Drake got up from his comfortable bed and went straight up to his parents’ room with his favourite dagger in his hand. With blood-crazed eyes, he didn’t even bother to explain to them why he was about to kill them.
‘I just want you to know one thing,’ he only told them, before hacking them both into pieces. ‘Wherever you’re hiding, I will find you, and I will rip you open all over again.’ With stunned expression in their faces, the king and queen succumbed to the merciless blade, as their only treasured son and heir began slashing and did not stop until there was nothing left for him to slash.
Thus the king and queen of Draeland passed away, leaving him the kingdom and the throne. No one who had any common sense, or wished to live, thought to oppose him. He was the most powerful man in the kingdom and they weren’t going to risk their necks for two people who had already lost theirs.
Next, he decided to do away with Bessie, again. He tried at first to enjoy her company and services; this version of her after all, had only ever been his loyal servant. But the more he looked at her beloved face, the more he remembered what she had said to him and what he had done to her. And the guiltier he felt, the angrier he got. She should not have made him do what he did; it wasn’t his fault. He had loved her like no other. So one fine evening, as he sat on his newly claimed throne and she came towards him with a tray of food, he launched an arrow towards her, piercing right through her heart. His aim was excellent, of course.
Nobody asked for an explanation, or said anything at all. They all just lowered their heads and went about their business, smiling and pretending not to see.
It slowly turned into a reign of terror from that day on. The people in the small island lived terrified of what he might do to them on a daily basis. First it was the servants, then the commoners. Whenever he ran into someone he did not like for whatever reason, they were done for. And nobody could stop him.
A few of them tried. Attacks on his life became a regular thing, yet somehow they all failed. Drake grew paranoid and distrusting of anyone and everyone around him, and soon he began to see enemies everywhere. So he struck before they even had a chance to think about rebelling against him and his tyranny, and he struck even if they never intended to.
In the span of a few years, his dreamworld became a depressing place to live in, even more so than the real world. Food and other goods were now growing scarce, while thieves and robbers began to multiply. But Drake no longer cared about any of it.
He was as much afraid of his people - whose numbers were going down rather quickly - as they were of him. He spent his days locked inside his palace, surrounded by a handful of men and servants who stood by him, not so much of loyalty, as for fear and convenience.