Submission (#2942) Approved

Guard picked up the object in front of him. It was a simple notebook, though the cover was wrapped in ornate, purple flourishes. A golden fish flicked smatterings of blue across the surface, caught in an eternal leap of faith towards the spine. Flicking it open, Guard presses a paw against the first page. 

It was empty, save for a couple words scrawled across the bottom. 

For the best servant a master could ask for.

Guard re-read the words almost daily. It was almost like suppressing an ache; placing temporary sutures in an open wound until the day he can finally return to his rightful side at Prince’s place. The book lost Prince’s chamomile perfumed scent a while ago, so the chicken-scratch writing is all Guard’s got. 

Its existence reminded him that he still had a home to come back to, but as an object, it still helped pass the time. A no-good, trashy romance novel at its core, it wasn’t something Guard would have picked up for himself. If Guard didn’t know the boy better, he would have thought it was a joke gift. Or, well, he wouldn’t have realized it wasn’t entirely a joke gift. 

Hidden amongst the pages were carefully pressed scraps. Notes, flowers, flat items; all speaking some sort of language, regardless of whether Guard could decipher them all or not. Guard had finished reading the book within a scant few hours of finding it tucked into his rucksack. It was the messages that were filling his time, which Guard planned out meticulously to ensure his greed didn’t overcome him. Devouring the information on all the notes right away wasn’t the best use for them; carefully savoring each pressed parcel made the nights just a little bit warmer, made the weeks just a little bit shorter. 

Nothing terribly important was hidden on any of the pieces. Mostly just innocuous flyaway thoughts and feelings; one memorable note described Prince’s musings on the reason behind his father’s reluctance to shave his moustache. Despite the odd contents of some of the messages, he still consumed each morsel and tidbit with equally ravenous hunger. He revisited each one when he wanted to pour through the book without stopping, making sure to remind himself that if he sped through all of them he’d ultimately regret it. 

After such a long night, drenched to the bone with salt water, Guard feels his control slipping. It was tempting to crawl page through page, removing each hidden secret. Instead, Guard grounded himself in the phrase written on the inner cover.

Guard pressed his snout to the words in front of him, and pretended he could still smell Prince on them.