a/n; don't be a silent reader! do remember to vote and comment as it would greatly motivate me

—

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

[ The palace was in an uproar when the butler showed up with a baby in his hands. It was too early to tell who he resembled, but his eyes and hair shared the same color as Lady Sarah's.

I thought the rumor of the butler getting wedded to Lady Sarah was false at first, for it was common knowledge that the Emperor and him adored each other. But on the other hand, they seemed to be getting into frequent fights of late.

The Emperor nearly killed Lady Sarah. I could hear quite a bit of shouting, actually. I could not believe that Lord Ralph had consummated the marriage with Lady Sarah. I simply never expected them to have a child — it was shocking news.

I pitied the child. Lord Ralph seemed to be fond of his newborn son, but also rather anxious and worried — almost unpleasantly surprised. Was the child not expected? Did he not want the child? Why did the butler seem so unstable?

But either way, I felt sorry for the baby. I hope he'll be fine in the future, and that life will spare him heartbreak and grievances. ]

— old excerpt from an official's letter detailing the state of the palace

—

The initial warmth that you felt earlier in the gardens waned off after you slipped beneath the blankets of Silas's bed. Your hair was still wet from showering, and the blanket offered you little warmth.

You glanced at Silas. He was sleeping peacefully, one arm thrown around you. He liked to nuzzle his head into your chest as he slept — Silas was physically affectionate that way. You were glad for the weight against you — it felt like an anchor, somehow, pulling you to bay.

Silas was here. You would choose him. He would allow you to feel normal. You could laugh, joke, and cry with him.

You stared at the ceiling with strange thoughts swarming in your head. You asked yourself: were you becoming the person you hated? Were you becoming too cruel, too jaded? Why was it so hard to be sweet and kind to people now? Every smile felt pained, and your laughter didn't feel genuine around people anymore. Silas was the only exception.

Truthfully, you were glad for Silvia's absence. Her absence meant you could stop pretending. Her absence meant that you could ignore her feelings. Her absence meant...

I should check up on her, at least, you thought, she's still my friend.

The main issue wasn't her. It was your mother. According to your father, she would be visiting very soon. You weren't prepared to see her — your throat still closed off at the sound of her name being spoken, and your heart still did the painful squeeze whenever you thought of her words. You rehearsed patterns of speeches in your head. She would ask you; how are you, Y/n? and you would choose to lie to her: you would say that everything was perfect, that you were marvelous and happier. Then, you would catch her expression fall as your mother realized you didn't need her.

You didn't need her. There were plenty of servants in the palace that adored you.

There were many people who could replace your mother. There were the cooks, the maids, the gardeners, the —

There was much endless noise. You were so tired. You wanted nothing more than to sit down in the gardens, to sprawl on the grass, and to hear the steady stream of a slow river by your side. You wanted to mindlessly stare at the twinkling stars when night arrived. You wanted to be nothing.

You wanted to return back to normal. Before these thoughts haunted you, before —

No. You would be normal. You decided that you would make a tangible effort to reconcile with your mother. You would listen to her speak; you would not get agitated. You would write in your journal again and you would calm your heart. You would be sweet and tender and loving once more, and you would be loved.

Yes, that was the plan. Your eyelids fluttered as you gazed at Silas. As he slept, you liked counting the number of eyelashes he had. It was an obscene number, and your eyes would trace his features, marveling at how beautiful he simply was. You much preferred looking at Silas when he was awake, for his purple eyes would glitter whenever he saw you.

You would not have traded him for the world. You could not. He murdered, yes, but you had to be realistic. Silas would be the future Emperor. He would be in wars. Bloodshed was normal — it was inevitable. Of course, you would have liked to preserve as much of his childhood innocence as possible, but in those three years you were gone, it seemed like his emotions had well and truly spiraled out of control.

You kissed his cheek and tucked the blanket up to cover your chin.

Sweet dreams, you thought.

Silas didn't budge, but his weight against your chest told you he was there, with you.

—

You woke up that day with a lighter, more euphoric feeling in your stomach. You were honestly excited to meet your mother again, and yet, you dreaded it.

Your mother has become better. That was what your father had said. She had started to quit drinking. She had started to sing again, to bake like she used to. She was repairing herself: mending herself, bit by bit, putting clay in between the shattered pieces and connecting herself together. You were glad for her.

Maybe this was a sign that everything would be alright.

You were giddy and decidedly happy that day, and even Silas caught wind of your contagious enthusiasm. He was very pleased to see it, and also surprised — had you not been crying just yesterday? It was strange to see you bubbly and cheerful all of a sudden. Perhaps the trip to the gardens had done you a load of good — color was now back in your cheeks, and you seemed more cheerful.

"What's the special occasion?" Silas inquired as you fixed his attire. He had a habit of messing up his collar. Little did you know, Silas screwed his dressing up on purpose just so you would help him. "You're so..."

"Cheerful?" You hummed. "Ah, well. Felt like it."

"No, seriously."

You paused as you let go of Silas's collar, brushing away the imaginary dirt on his attire. You grinned. "Why? I thought you would like to see me cheerful."

"I do. I just want to know why, so I can reenact the special occasion and make you cheerful again if you cry."

"Well," you said slowly and deliberately, "that's a sweet thought, but I doubt you will like what I'm going to say."

"...What?" Silas asked apprehensively. He looked like he regretted asking the question. You giggled.

"My mother's visiting."

Silas recoiled. The last time she visited, she had caused you to be all sad and mopey. So why the fuck were you so happy to see her again? Really, should he have tied you up?

You caught the look of pure confusion and frustration on Silas's face.

You softened. "I must really seem like a fool to other people. Yes, Silas, I know she has hurt me. I know she has been unnecessarily cruel. But...I'm greedy, I suppose," you sighed. "My father is gone. Our relationship is truly shattered. I need some family left. I...I need my mother. She has done too much for me. I can't abandon her."

"You have me," Silas whispered. And you had managed to ignore her for the past couple of years, so why were you so bothered now?

"I do. I always did: I always have. But you know that's not what I'm talking about."

"I don't get it," Silas said, "I never had a family, and yet I don't yearn for one. You've gotten hurt by your mother, so why do you still yearn for her?"

"...Because I've experienced it," you murmured. "I've experienced her great adoration. I've experienced what's it's like to be her darling son, her prized child. And so naturally, I'll want it back. I'll want it back even if it means being stupid and cruel to myself."

"I..." Silas shook his head. "I want it to be just us."

"It is," you told him. "It's the two of us against the world, remember?"

"You'll end up spending more time with your mother. And then she'll probably want you to marry Silvia, and then —" Silas cut himself off, swallowing. "Please, Y/n. Don't let your mother go back in your life. She has hurt you, Y/n."

"Why did Silvia enter into this conversation?" You said, aghast, "Silas, we're now talking about my mother and I."

"Yes, but —!"

"That poor girl is avoiding us, Silas. Stop bringing her up." You sighed. "You are tormenting yourself with thoughts that aren't true."

"It's always a possibility." Silas said softly, "I just don't want to have to share you, Y/n. I've always been so used to having you for myself only. I hate feeling jealous. I loathe it: I really don't get why you would see your mother. She'll monopolize your time and make you sad in the process."

"I promised myself yesterday that I would try."

"Try?"

"I promised myself that I would try to revert things back to normal," you said bitterly. "I'm aware of how I've ended up. And I don't want to end up that way. I want to change, Silas. I want to be kinder; sweeter. I want to be as selfless as I was before. I want to give people chances."

"You didn't give your father a chance." Silas said plainly.

"I did, many times, when I was little," you told Silas. "But yes, I've given up on him. He's too broken as an individual. I could tell what kind of words he was omitting from the conversation. At one point, he wanted to tell me that I was unwanted. He wanted to tell me that I was a surprise — that he didn't know I would be born."

"Y/n—"

"And I thought the news wouldn't bother me so much, because I knew I was unwanted. My mother had told me that before, hadn't she? She had said that I was a mistake. But still, it's had to think of how...it's hard to think of how my parents don't even want me. Now I wonder if they welcomed my birth with a smile on their faces. I wonder if I sucked the life out of them. I wonder what kind of things I destroyed. And I know, Silas, I know it isn't my fault," your voice cracked, "but it feels like it really is sometimes. I destroyed the balance of their lives. But Silas, I didn't ask to be born. I never did."

"So prove your existence," Silas wiped at your blossoming tears, his gaze strong and unyielding. "Haven't you already done that? You are alive. You're strong. And oh, Y/n, you saved me. You never asked to be born, but I'm glad you were. If it weren't for your birth, I would have died, too. Your life saved another life."

Your purpose in life was to serve Silas. That, you already knew. You knew that from the start. And maybe that was part of why you were so attached to Silas — he was the living, breathing proof that your life held some weight. That even though your parents had not expected you, even though they had not wanted you — someone did.

Someone's life depended on your survival.

And that someone was Silas.

"You really know how to make me feel better, Silas. But I'm sorry. I have to see my mother. I promise that I won't shirk my time with you for her. I promise that you'll always be my number one priority. But I have a feeling that if I don't see her now," you whispered, "I'll hate myself forever. I'll live to regret it."

"Y/n," Silas spoke again feverishly. He hated seeing you leaving. He hated seeing you leave for someone else.

Silas was somewhat adamant on you not meeting your mother. Why? Because he was scared that she would hurt you again? Because he was scared that you would abandon him for her?

The plain reason was jealousy. Silas's jealousy had ballooned over the years, and it was now blatantly obvious to you.

You smiled at him. "Don't worry, Silas." You gave a loose, careless shrug, turning away from him. Silas wanted to stop you, but he found he couldn't. The words were stuck in his throat. Stay with me, Y/n. Don't go. Don't go. Don't go. I know you're only leaving for a short while, but it feels like —!

The prince watched your fading silhouette as you disappeared from his room, the faint thud of the door telling him of your leave.

Silas kissed his teeth and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Wouldn't it be a lot better for him if your mother simply didn't exist?

Wouldn't it be alot better if there weren't obstacles everywhere hindering him and you? Silas was skilled in murdering. He could do it seamlessly and easily — he was able to leave no trace behind. No one would miss your mother, after all, except for you. Her husband had already divorced her.

It would be that easy to kill your mother.

Ah, yes, you would be heartbroken, but Silas would be there to comfort you through everything. You wouldn't know. You would never suspect him.

Maybe Silas would wait. He would wait for a few years before striking — he would bide his time.

At least later, when you two were adults, things would revert back to just you and Silas again. Things would revert back to the way they were supposed to be.

I can't do that to Y/n, Silas thought after a while, but really...

It's awfully tempting.

—

A few days later, she came.

Your mother visited you as morning came about. Your hair was still messy and you had just finished brushing your teeth when there was a soft knock on the door. You had frowned then — Silas never knocked. He would open the door and rush in madly, throwing his arms around you as a greeting. Silvia didn't knock, either. She would enter the room quietly and wait until you noticed her.

You opened the door anyway, even though you knew who was behind it. You smiled wearily, and hoped it looked genuine enough.

Your mother smelt like sugar and frosting. She looked older too, with wrinkles around her eyes, with gauntness in her face.

But unlike your previous encounter with her, she no longer held malice in her eyes. Your mother trembled as she saw you. Her bottom lip quivered.

"I heard the news," you reached out behind her to shut the door, before you invited her to sit down. "You and father are getting divorced. I'm sorry to hear that —"

"My baby," she whispered feverishly, reaching out to crush you in a tight hug. "Oh, I'm so sorry, darling. I'm so sorry. That time — I didn't mean — I—"

You stilled, not moving. You did not push her away, but you did not hug her back either.

"I know," you said, in the same cajoling tone you usually reserved for Silas. "It's fine. It's been three years. I'm over it."

I'm over it. You wondered if repeating the same words to yourself would make you believe in them.

"Oh, but Y/n, it was things I should never have said to you — I didn't mean that you were a mistake. Your father and I just didn't expect you when you were born, and you —"

"Mother," you cut in, sighing. "Are you drunk now? You're tripping over your words."

She blinked and realized that her sentences were lapsing over each other. "Oh, no," she said immediately, "I quit. I quit drinking a year ago."

"That's good to hear," you softened, tearing your gaze away from her to look at the window instead. Cricket sounds filled your ears and a cold gust of wind blew into your room. You shivered. "Well, so I suppose you're here to get me home."

"...I wanted to see how you were doing, Y/n. It's been three years."

"I'm fully aware of that."

"I was very — sad — then. I didn't mean any of the words that I said. I know the pain and grief that I have caused you. A child of twelve should never have to those words," your mother whispered, her voice cracking, "I'm very sorry, Y/n."

"This is your third time saying sorry," you said, faintly amused. "It's really fine."

"Did those words...?"

"Haunt me?" You finished off, "do you think they did? You raised me, Mother. You knew the kind of child I was. You knew I would take those words to heart, considering I worshiped you back then. You knew how excited and happy I was to see you. I thought you were telling me a secret then. In a way, you were. But..."

Your mother looked hopefully at you.

"I think a part of me is never going to forgive you," you swallowed, "I don't think it's possible for me. But I can forget. At least, I hope I can forget. In this case, I will forget but not forgive. I do want a relationship with you, Mother, for I know you loved me."

"I love you," your mother corrected. Her words were weak, "I even baked your favourite treats to bring to you. I brought mangoes. Freshly sliced. Sweet. I brought two forks."

"For me and you, or for Silas and me?"

"Whichever you would prefer. Are you hungry now?"

"...I don't have the appetite now, but I'll eat them later. Thank you." You answered after a while. Your mother pushed the bag with the goodies into your hands, and you opened it slowly. Your mother had been right — she had baked all of the childhood delights that you had yearned for in the palace.

"We should catch up," your mother decided. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Life in the palace is pretty relaxing. Nothing major yet, for Silas has yet to become Emperor, of course. I'm learning new things. A lot of them. I can do mana casting pretty well now. Made a new friend besides Silas, too. Her name is Silvia."

"That sounds lovely," your mother said.

"What about you?" You offered a question to her. It felt like you were talking to a stranger. A stranger who had carried you in her womb for nine months, a stranger who had loved you and adored you until you turned twelve.

A stranger who was now making amends with you.

"Ah," she hummed, "I've been focusing on myself. Baking more. Learning new recipes. Your uncles invited me to go hunting — I caught quite a few animals."

"Sounds like you're happy there."

"I am," your mother said, "pretty happy, actually."

"Father told me you had a burden. Father told me you carried guilt," you said after a while, the curiosity eating away at your mind, "what is that guilt that he speaks about? He assured me that the burden wasn't referring to me, but I assume it must have been pretty bad for you two to finally divorce."

She faltered. "I promise that we will tell you, but that's a conversation for another day."

You could live with that. Well, now was time for the question you had been pondering over for the entirety of your life.

"Did you ever love Father? Did Father ever love you?" You twiddled your thumbs. " I was always curious about that."

"Quite a heavy question," your mother pointed out. "I thought we would be doing light hearted catching up. Soft conversations. Not —"

Your mother caught the look on your face and tags a soft sigh. She knew she owed you this conversation.

"He did, once."

"Once," you repeated.

"Maybe he still loves me a teeny bit. But not as a marriage partner. Not as a wife," your mother said, "more of a friend. I was selfish back then, Y/n. I wanted him. And he was the kind of person who couldn't say no. So yes, we married each other. But marrying someone who doesn't love you completely is bound to end in disaster."

"So you love Father?"

"I do. I still do, in fact, but the love is all thin and frayed now. Everything is all over now," she exhaled, "bad things just kept happening when we were young. And there were some misfortunes."

"I hope the misfortune doesn't include me," you said lightly, before you amended: "Just kidding. Pay me no mind."

Your mother smiled gently at you. "You've grown into a fine man without me."

"I sincerely hope so."

"You really did," your mother told you. "I know it hasn't been easy for you. The words I said — you're right, Y/n, I raised you. I know the kind of child I raised you to be. So I know the words I said destroyed you. And yet here you are, stronger. Different."

Different. Maybe you had covered yourself with so many layers to protect yourself from other people that you were undergoing metamorphosis. It was like that conversation you had with Silas a long time ago — we will probably change as we grow older, Silas. And here you were. You had been right then. You were changing.

"But does different mean better?"

"In your case, yes." Your mother answered. "Your father was right. You cannot be too kind."

You frowned. "Are you saying...?"

"I'm not saying you're unkind, child, for you are still one of the sweetest souls I've met in my life. But being too kind is not a good thing. I've learnt that too, after being cooped up at home by myself."

By myself. "Were you lonely?"

"Oh, I was free," your mother laughed quietly. "I missed you dearly, and I wished often that you were with me — but being away from your father allowed me to think."

"What's the difference between freedom and loneliness?" You couldn't help but ask. "I despise being lonely, so I surround myself with people. And yet sometimes it feels so suffocating, that..."

"That's when you find someone who helps you combat both. Someone who ensures that you don't feel lonely, and yet someone who gives you the freedom to do anything you want in the world. Freedom means a lot of things, my darling child. Freedom to move. Freedom to think. Freedom to not hide away. You must find someone who can give you all of the above."

"I think I did find someone," you murmured.

"I'm glad for you, child. I really am. You are my son. You are my beloved, precious son...Y/n," your mother suddenly looked at you seriously, her jaw taut. "What is your dream?"

"My dream?"

"What is your dream job? Do you truly wish to stay here forever? Do you wish to serve the Emperor? To serve His Highness? Or do you want to be something else? Do you want to draw? You used to draw in your sketchbooks. Do you wish to learn something else? Do you want to be a mage, a musician, a—"

"I don't really have a dream. But I did dream of being loved," you said, "I did dream of being chosen — of being wanted."

Your mother faltered.

But you were so dreamy and imaginative last time — you could see that thought form in your mother's head. But hadn't she said it herself? You were different. That was a child's imagination. You were fifteen now.

"I think you have a misconception somewhere. I will go to the place where I can get chosen, where I can be loved. Mother, I am not planning to follow you back home. I'm staying here. Did Father not tell you that? You have been talking like I'm going back to live with you."

Her eyes widened.

"You're planning to stay here?"

"Yes."

"Why? This place... this place is horrid, Y/n. It guts you from the inside out. You haven't experienced anything bad here yet, but oh, Y/n, the minute you become an adult, the minute you become —"

"I know."

"Ralph wasn't always like that, Y/n. I was childhood friends with him. The minute he became an adult, his butler duties tore his life away from him — and now I'm offering you an escape from it. So why aren't you taking it?" Your mother asked you desperately. "Why —"

When did she start referring to your father by his name? It was like she no longer thought you were his son, too. Not anymore.

"Oh, Y/n," your mother's face was crumbling then. "You cannot stay. I'm offering you an escape," she repeated, "I'm allowing you to run away from here. I'm —"

You watched as your mother started to shake on the floor, sobbing. She clutched at the fabric of your clothes and her soft cries become louder.

She wanted you to return.

Your mother was warning you. She was telling you to leave while you still had the opportunity to do so. She was telling you to open your eyes and to see what living in the palace had done to your father.

Your heart ached, and for the briefest moment, you wavered. For the briefest moment, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility of leaving Silas behind and returning back to your home.

For the briefest moment —

"Come back with me," your mother pleaded. "Come back, Y/n. Come back home."

—

plot is finally moving on (?) silas and mc will turn into adults super soon with another big time-skip! I hope everyone is as excited as I am!

remember to add this to your library to get updates! also wish me a ton of luck as I have something really anxiety inducing tmr lol

how was it?