And then it dawned on him, he was not a bored man.

The right way of upside down. Life makes no sense and there's no use trying to get a different angle. That's the motto Archibald lived by. Especially today when he sat there staring at the floor wondering why in the world was he seeing four carpets at the same time. The room looked weird, strange, *foreign*. Not his. Oddly enough this didn't bother him at all. To be fair, it took a lot to upset him. That's how he was. Enjoying lavish parties, sleeping around with no strings attached. Seducing women as frivolous as he was.

A quick look towards his open hand that reached towards the ceiling told him he was indeed seeing more fingers than he should have been. Not that he minded having ten fingers on one hand, only, he wasn't sure if this was exactly normal.

For some odd reason, he had woken up from a bad dream early this morning and hadn't managed to go back to normal since then. He'd dreamt of the time he was cut out from his clan. From the web. That sudden silence. Like he'd been cut from everything, like he was blind. It was cold. It was, silent. For the first time in a long while. He'd never experienced true silence, always connected to the other members, the constant buzzing in the back of his mind. But when he'd been cut away from the web, that unbelievably lonely feeling of silent darkness fell upon him. And then it dawned on Archibald. All his life. He thought himself a bored man. One too corrupted, one who knew far too well how the court worked. One who was as evil and as enticing as the men he tried to protect his sisters from. That had never bothered him. As long as it was entertaining and distracted him from his eternal boredom. But then he realized it all. He was not bored. He was not simply waiting for something exciting, someone to entice, to lure into his bed. He kept relieving women of their boredom and felt like they did the same for him but now, he knew. He was not bored. He was lonely.

Incredibly utterly and unmistakably lonely. Forever a player, he never really tried to make women to fall for his charms, and he never thought it'd be an issue. Since they left after having accomplished what they were here for was over. However, in this moment as he sat there, trying to count how many fingers he could see, feeling like a spectator to his own life. He knew. He had always felt this ache, in a corner of his heart. This gaping open wound. That loneliness he'd filled with lavish parties and women and pride. He had always been a frank and blunt man. But never with himself. He wasn't distracting his boredom but rather preventing himself from being alone with his thoughts because he knew. He knew he'd figure it out one day or another. That it'd hit him like a punch to the face. His loneliness.

All this time, he'd been trying to cover this fact, to hide away the loneliness, the pain. Only now he realized it was pointless. Like trying to fill a broken vase with water. Like putting a band aid on stab wound. Like trying to complete a puzzle with missing pieces. Pointless. Hell, it even worsened the damage. He knew now, he'd always known. He'd veiled the truth to keep it from shaking his fragile mind. His sanity, that he barely kept together, holding on by a thin thread ready to snap. Because he had never been ready to face this harsh and terrible truth.

And then, right there. Archibald. The mighty owner of the Clairdelune. The ambassador. The player. The forever unserious manchild. The little boy trapped inside a body too big for him. Shed a single tear that rolled down his cheek, and crashed onto the ragged carpet covering the floor.