a/n; do comment! it really motivates and fuels me!! more comments = faster updates :) slightly longer chapter too! some key developments...

—

After your birthday, the days seemed to slip by. A plethora of events slowly happened one by one — first, Silas's own birthday, in which you gifted him a handwritten note along with several origami (you were embarrassed to give him such a gift at first, for the gem he gifted you was undoubtedly expensive — but Silas looked pleased all the same). And then your mother told you that your father had moved out.

Moved out temporarily, your mother was quick to specify. She said an issue had popped up in the palace and that your father was required to remain there until the issues had died down. Your mother had sounded resentful whilst she said it, but you dared not delve too much into it.

"But," you remembered her saying, "he'll come in time for your official training, of course."

"I don't want him to." You had blurted out, before you slapped your hand on your mouth. Those words felt forbidden to you. Weren't you supposed to want your family to stick around you? So why were you almost happy that your father was temporarily gone?

"Oh, honey," your mother crouched down so that she would be at your eye level. "He's your father, sweetie."

"He is," you whispered. "I know. I'm sorry. I —"

Your mother petted your head gently. "Rest. You must be very tired."

Your mother said those words often. Whether it was you saying such things about your father, whether it was an illness, headache, flu — she would parrot the same words to you.

You didn't often feel sick, not in the slightest bit. Instead you felt like you had some sort of incurable disease that was slowly making you loathe everything around you. Or perhaps the word everything was an exaggeration — you still loved warm days and the smell of mangoes. You still loved the sounds of birds chirping and the midday sun bathing your body. You loved so much about the world and yet now hate had sprung up. Hate towards your circumstances, towards things you couldn't quite control.

Sleeping was supposed to make you feel better. It did, on some occasions, when you drifted into a muffled sleep that made you forget about your life. However, other times, you would wake up feeling detached from the world, with your lips sticky and your throat dry. You would glance out of the window and see that the sun had set, and the sky had taken on a cloudiness and weariness that squeezed your heart. You journalled more, with the bookmark your mother gave you in between the pages.

However, Silas's gift — the gem — stayed in your pocket. You didn't have anything to put it on, regrettably. So you carried it around like a small reminder that someone out there cherished you. You didn't dare to take it out for too long. You were too terrified that it would break.

Your mother soon grew accustomed to bringing you to the palace. The whispers had risen, but this time, some were targeted at you. They weren't malicious, but their eyes were certainly on you — they were on every step you took. It was at these times that you were immensely grateful for the reprieve you had when you hid out in the gardens.

A new year was dawning upon you. You would be nine soon, and Silas would be seven.

Seven seemed so much bigger than six. From three letters, it became five. It became a mouthful to speak, with two syllables instead of a single one that rolled off your tongue. You wondered how you had changed over the course of the year you had with Silas. Had you softened now that you had a constant — Silas? Had you grown more selfish in your demands now that you had felt what it was like to be cherished by a person? It was funny how your father was more of a stranger to you than Silas.

You went about your day with these thoughts haunting you. The conversations between you and your mother had become noticeably shorter, though she still packed you your lunches and you still hugged her. The house had grown silent, and you realized how much you missed noise. Not the shouting and yelling — but the distinct murmur and chatter that your mother and father exchanged at times. Your house felt hollow. Empty. Too quiet. And to compensate for this stifling silence, your mother sewed and knitted and drank. She drank more often despite her promises to you that she would reduce it.

You had seen her drunk, once. She whispered unkind things in a sweet tone and you were left to decipher the meaning of those words. You were left to wonder whether she meant it. Your mother didn't remember the words after she broke out of her drunken stupor, though, so you were forced to swallow your morbid curiosity down.

You had no doubt your mother loved you. And yet you wondered why deep down, she resented you. Her astounding love for you overshadowed this blip of dislike, but still, at eight (very nearly nine) you felt it. That sliver of hatred, barely distinguishable, barely there, but still present.

You poured your woes out to Silas. You realized how astute he was: how funny he could be, when he joked about killing and murder with a straight face. You didn't know that for a year now, Silas had continued to murder people behind your back. You were so aware of the cruelty in your household and yet when it came to Silas, you turned a blind eye. It was easier to pretend, after all.

You wrote continuously in your journal. Your handwriting became neater, more compact. It was a wonder to see how much a few months could change you.

—

I keep rereading Silas's journal message for me. He's so sweet! He acts all cold and distant at times but his letter really brought a smile on my face! I'm so thankful to have a friend like him.

—

I watched Silas train today. Discreetly, of course. (I hid in the bushes) and gosh, his swordsmanship is marvelous!! He's so talented!! The instructor almost seemed afraid of him, which is weird. And mean. I gave him a cookie I baked as a reward.

—

I saw Daddy at the palace today. He seemed to be conflicted, for he didn't mention by training at all and instead ruffled my hair. He stared at me for a bit, like he was analyzing my features, before he tore his gaze away. I heard him murmur something like, "His Majesty was wrong," before he sauntered away. My mother is hardening, while my dad is softening. Why do things always change?? Why can't anything remain the same?

—

My mother and I baked apple tarts and made apricot jam today. How lovely — it's been so long since I bonded with her. Her hands were cold unlike the warmth I was used to, and yet my mother felt alive and healthy. She kept saying sorry to me as we baked. I was confused. I popped a few tarts into the lunchbox to bring them to Silas.

Oh yeah, did I mention? There's only a week left until the new year.

—

Silas and I are both aware of the fact that we'll be separated soon. He too, like me, has further training...

I'm seeing him less and less. What a pity, isn't it?

—

Silas didn't look too happy today. I'm guessing it's because we're having less and less time to play! Time has been scarce and I really hope we get to meet each other more in the future. I'll be so upset if it isn't possible.

—

I'm tired. I'm going to sleep.

—

Why is the year passing so fast? I'm going to be nine years old soon. Someone, please make the clock stop. Make the clock stop. Make the clock stop. Make the clock stop. Make the clock stop. Make the clock stop.

—

Today I got to play with Silas for a little longer!! We went back to the carvings on the tree and we talked there for a little while. Elias injured his leg, so he's a little sulky that he can't join us. Well, he still stayed snug in my pocket, but he didn't get to fly around, so that's sad. Anyway, I think things are getting better! Daddy's still in the palace, while Mommy seems to have stopped drinking. Woohoo!!

—

Spoke too soon :( I caught her drinking. Turns out she just learnt to hide it better. I don't know what to do. I don't want to stop her because it makes her happy, but she seems so far away from me

—

I want to stop trying

—

Today was a better day! Silas and I went on a walk and we caught some baby otters in the palace grounds!! How cool is that???

—

I'll have to skip some journal entries :( the new year is just around the corner. I have to start prepping for my training

Goodbye, temporarily :)

—

And now, it was the last day of your eighth year. When tomorrow dawned, you would be unofficially nine.

That number scared you. Terrified you, because you knew turning nine meant losing Silas, whether it was for a brief period of time or forever. When you turned nine, your mistakes would become permanent fissures — there would be no turning back from the life you would soon lead.

Silas knew it too, but both of you two refused to acknowledge it. It was easier to pretend that nothing would happen, that you two would simply ease into the precious normality of your lives. There was no need to think of such things. You were too afraid that you would end up bleeding salty tears and tasting them if you confronted your reality. You had learnt to bury your sorrows in the graveyards of your mind.

But you hugged him extra long as you greeted him. Silas's hands lingered on you for a second longer, but again, you two refused to talk about it. It was like the illusion of childhood was soon to be whisked away, and yet you were stubborn: you continued to grip on it, you continued to hold it. It was like a fragile balloon you could not seem to let go of — it would have been pricked either way, but you didn't want it to burst by your hands.

You didn't want to be the sharp pin anymore.

Silas had offered you a respite — he had made you feel wanted and precious, and now you knew he would soon be gone.

Gone. He would not be dead, but you would miss him dearly.

"Happy new year," you smiled, your bottom lip quivering. You didn't want to have to voice it out loud — that the reason why you were saying happy new year now instead of tomorrow was because there would simply be no tomorrow. The gem was heavy in your pocket. The origami you made for him fluttered in the breeze — Silas had hung it on the tree that had both your initials carved on it.

You wanted to stay here. memorising every little thing: what Silas's footsteps were like when he walked towards you, what Elias's chirping sounded like, what the grass stains on your clothes looked like. You wanted to remember your reflection in the mirror when not a single hair was in place. You wanted to remember the rolling, undulating hills that you and Silas had played on. The garden was an expansive place and stretched on for miles and miles. In fact, the garden was part of a forest that Silas and you often explored.

"Happy new year," Silas answered quietly. "What do you want to do today?"

You were at loss of words, for once. Your brain and hands felt empty. You didn't have any food to munch on today — it seemed that for the first time in your mother's life, she had overslept. She had whispered a string of feverish apologies to you and had barely been able to bring you to the palace. You worried about her.

"I don't know. Celebrate, maybe?"

"Celebrate?"

"We're going to become one year older," you said at last. "I mean, not officially, but..." you glanced away. "It seems just yesterday that I officially turned eight. How is time passing by so fast?"

Time passed by when you were having fun. And soon, in a blink of an eye, you were one summer older, a foot taller, with your heart fuller and heavier. Time always seemed to crawl by at home, but skipped away merrily when you were with Silas. Time had its favorites, and Silas was one of them. It practically whizzed past you to the point you wondered if Time was its own separate entity, and that it loathed you.

You had spent the year memorizing and memorizing. Not just plain textbook examples, but you had remembered the crunch of the leaves beneath your shoes, the clink of your spoon against the lunchbox, the smell of warm coffee on the breakfast table when your father was present and happy. You knew the wooden creak of the bridge above the lake, the endless carvings on woods.

"It doesn't feel like a celebration to me." Silas said honestly. You two were dipping your feet into a lake. The water was deliciously cold. "You're leaving, right? You always said your training would start when you turned nine. When your ninth year came about."

You swallowed the bile in your throat. "Yeah."

"When will you come back?"

Come back? You supposed that was true. This, after all, was the palace. You were due back here after three years, to serve your master.

"In three years time. I'll be twelve, and you'll be —"

"Ten," Silas said flatly. "Three years is a long time. My age will be in double digits."

"Yeah." You deflated. "It'll be a horribly long time. I won't even be able to step foot into the palace."

"Hey," Silas said suddenly. "I got an idea."

"Huh?" You brightened up a little. Here Silas was, taking the initiative. How novel. "What is it?"

"We should dance. Like a waltz, or something. I just got taught ballroom dancing."

You burst into peals of rambunctious laughter. "Hah! You? Dancing?" You wiped your tears with your hands. "That's a hilarious picture. I can't even imagine that."

Silas frowned. "I'm the future —" He paused. "—Nevermind. Whatever. If you don't want to, that's fine. But my teacher told me people who like each other dance together during balls. Next time, when we grow older, I would invite you to dance. And if you don't know the steps, that's on you."

That did the trick. Challenged, you immediately sat up and grabbed Silas's hands. You jutted your chin out stubbornly.

"Fine."

Silas scoffed internally. You were so easy to understand. It was so easy to get you to do his bidding.

"Just follow my steps," Silas held your waist gingerly — you were a little taller than him, so you found your eye level slightly above him — "don't step on my feet now."

Both of you were barefoot. You could feel the wet moss beneath your feet as well as the small instances in which sharp rock grazed your skin. But still, you found yourself moving along with him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"There'll be music during balls," Silas told you as you two rested beneath the shades of the willow trees, sweaty and tired. "So it won't be that awkward. But —"

"Awkward?" You interrupted. "It wasn't awkward for me at all!"

Silas paused. "Good for you, then."

You frowned. "Why? Did it feel awkward for you?"

Silas looked away. "No, not really."

Silas liked you, he truly did. After all, he had been his own first victim and you, Y/n, had become his only hope — his only savior from himself. But now he was starting to wonder just how he should reveal his identity to you. Three years down the road, when you would serve him — would you feel betrayed that he had lied to you? Silas had no doubt that he would be able to keep you in line, considering that he would be your master — but that left an unpleasant feeling on his heart.

"So?" You beamed. "Nothing to worry about. You can continue to teach me in the future and we'll be total pros at it."

"Right," Silas said, distracted. He watched the sun dim — it was turning dark. Dancing had taken an obscene amount of time — perhaps he shouldn't have suggested it. Perhaps it would have been better to bask in the weather and talk with each other. It was getting late, and that meant you would soon have to leave.

You nudged Silas. "You know —" you paused. "I have to go soon."

"I know," Silas whispered.

I have to go soon. It didn't just mean that you would have to go for the day. It meant that you would be gone for all three years of his life. Until he turned ten.

"Walk me to the garden entrance?" You smiled at him. "Your last chance, after all."

Silas had always refused before then, saying he had to rush for his training sessions. He had always been given the luxury of looking forward to your next visit, after all, so seeing you off didn't seem like such a big deal. But this time, he went to the palace entrance with you. His hand was warm in yours and you started to feel a rush of sadness and pain in you.

Never let go, you wanted to tell yourself. But soon, you were standing in front of the garden entrance, trying desperately not to feel sad. You must have stood still for ten seconds before Silas let go of your hand. Fleetingly, you felt Silas slowly dissipate. Not physically, of course — he was still standing with you, looking at you — but the minute Silas's hands had left yours, you had realized it was time to say goodbye.

You heard the familiar footsteps of your father's approach. It made it all too real. Your father was going to return home with you, after such a long period, to train you.

You saw your father stand before you. He gave you an awkward hug as he dusted the grass off your hair.

"Up to mischief, no doubt," he whispered. "Have you been studying, or playing?"

He seemed kinder. More affectionate. Yet distant and weary. It seems your mother and father had become complete opposites.

"Yeah," you smiled, "look! This is my friend, Silas! He taught me mana casting, and —"

You watched your father's face morph into one of shock. Shock, then horror, before he quickly bowed down.

"Your Highness," your father said fervently. "I offer my greetings to you. I apologize for whatever insolent behavior my child has displayed. He wasn't aware that you were the crown prince, and—"

"What?" You interrupted. "Daddy, Silas isn't the crown prince. He's my friend, not my master."

"Y/n," your father said in a strangled tone.

You looked back at Silas. You wanted Silas to prove him wrong. To tell your father that he wasn't the crown prince.

But Silas wasn't looking at you. "I accept your apologies," was what he told your father instead, in a dismissive tone.

"Silas!" You cried out. "But you aren't the crown prince! You don't have to apologize to him..." you trailed off as you caught the look on Silas's face.

...He was the crown prince.

He had always been.

Then why had he been lying to you? All this time, he had been your future master, and yet Silas had pretended again and again that he was simply the heir to some random noble's family. He was lying. All this time, Silas was...lying.

You thought again of the gem nestled in your pocket. You would forget what it was that started it all, but you would never ever forget how it felt.

"Y/n," Silas said softly.

Would you scorn him? Silas expected anger. Perhaps a disdainful look — a pissed off sentence: how dare you lie to me?

You thought of the waltz earlier. The names carved on the tree. Your journal. Your gem. The snacks you shared. The games you played. Hadn't you always wanted your master to be your friend? And if this was the arrangement, then —

You and Silas could remain together. How delightful. You were sure that Silas had his own reasons for lying.

Silas expected you to lash out, but that didn't happen. Instead, you clasped his hands, eyes glittering with delight. "You're the crown prince? That's great!"

Silas's eyes widened. "...That's...great?"

"Yeah!" You said enthusiastically. "That means I'll be with you forever! That means I'll be happy doing my job! I don't have any qualms being loyal to you! Didn't I tell you the last time? I was so scared of not being friends with my master. I'm glad it's you, Silas!"

...I'm glad it's you. Silas had deceived you. He had deceived countless others and they had all shown him hatred and anger. And yet no matter what he did, you forgave him. You continued to love him.

In the eyes of you, he would always be perfect. Silas realized then that he could commit the most atrocious acts, and yet you would still care for him. You would still love him. Silas was greedy for that kind of sacrificial love; that kind of maddening love that knew no limits. And now you offered that to him. You would always be intensely loyal to him. You would never betray him.

Silas could do anything and you would continue to support him. With you, his actions had no consequences.

A smile started to grow on his face. "Me too. I'm glad that you'll be my butler."

Silas did not apologize for lying. Why did he need to, when you so clearly loved him still? When you had already forgiven him? When you already — and had always — understood him?

"So His Highness was your friend," your father said at last, tongue tied. He looked extremely pained. "I was hoping to avoid this kind of situation, but —" he swallowed. "I see that it has happened. Well, this is new. Y/n, bid farewell to the prince. You won't be seeing him for another three years."

You nodded your head, feeling misery overwhelm you.

"I will meet you next time," you whispered softly, "when you are my master, and I am your servant."

Silas reached out and held your hand. "When we are still friends, like we will always be."

You nodded your head, and let go. The warmth started to leave your fingers, and a cold gust of wind kissed your cheeks then, allowing for goosebumps to rise and your bottom lip to quiver. You weren't crying — as a matter of fact, you had a small smile plastered on your face — but you were certain that when you got back home, you would bury your head into your pillow and wet it with your tears. You immediately felt sorrow and despair fill in all the holes of your heart that Silas had previously filled — and you knew, tangibly, that you wouldn't feel happy in his absence.

Perhaps not feeling happy was an exaggeration — but what you meant to say was that you weren't sure if you would feel glee anymore. Happiness was one thing, but immense joy was another. And you would soon revert back to the former. The painful thing was that if Silas had not come into your life, you would never have known the pain of losing someone so dear to you — you would never have felt the bitter plunge after gaining something so real and sweet to you.

You glanced at your father. His expression had changed, and for the first time in his life, he looked stricken.

You turned your back onto Silas.

Everything had been a dream. It was like Silas had been a dream, and you had woken up.

Loneliness consumed you. It ate you alive mercilessly.

You started to mourn the loss of your childhood, even when you were still plunged in the middle of it.

—

why r my chapters getting longer this isn't sustainable

and yes its crazy guy x enabler

current WC: 36k

anyways hope u all enjoyed! I think MC's reaction to Silas lies are understandable considering the kind of person he is. unfortunately it leads Silas to think that he will be able to do whatever he wants and not get into trouble because he is so deadly cherished by y/n

well, hope it was okay! first major timeskip! thank u all for the support so far. (sorry if this chapter is off, I'm starting to split the chapters and do different parts of it on different days instead of writing them in one go — might explain the growing lengths of the chapters)

how was it?