a/n; i hope everyone enjoys!! lighter chapter today and some fun stuff will be in the next chapter! try not to be a silent reader and do comment and vote on the chapter as it would greatly motivate me and spur me on to update faster!

—

It wasn't the easiest getting accustomed to the palace life once more, but you could feel yourself becoming more alive; more cheerful.

Your mother had told you once that each person was like a flower. They blossomed and withered at different places, at different times, in different conditions. Flowers grew best in a place that had optimum conditions for them, and in this case, the palace was your garden, and the floor that you walked on was your soil. The people were your fertilizers, and Silas was your water.

Your duties had become much more complex. Because you had missed out six years of tasks, naturally, your workload was terrifying, and so were your lessons. In normal circumstances, you would have been done with your lessons. However, due to your absence, you now had a few more lessons to catch up on. It didn't bother you that much, anyway.

For a brief moment of time, it felt just like old days — slipping out of lessons to sample a snack from the kitchen, napping when you were supposed to be finishing assignments — but soon, that easy life slipped away and you started on your adult duties. Working hours were long and sluggish, but rewarding. You noted with a hint of pride that Silas seemed much more diligent and efficient in his work.

"I'm beat," you massaged your neck, giving out a large sigh. From the morning to the evening, you had simply been sitting at your desk, working yourself to the bones. Silas had been at a neighboring desk (he had pulled one over from his study, much to your amusement and chagrin) and similarly to you, had been slaving away at some document.

As each day passed, the workload of the Emperor and the current butler (your father) eased, while the workload of the next Emperor and butler increased. You found yourself longing for retirement, even when you had barely started.

"Are you done?" Silas looked up from his desk. You had a habit of playing around with his hair, and as a result, he now had a sloppy bun resting at the top of his head. "I have a few more to sort out."

A growing heap of finished documents and letters laid at the corner of the room. There was still a small pile awaiting to be touched.

"I think I'm going to do the last bit tonight." You yawned.

"Procrastinating?" Silas raised an eyebrow, "that's unlike you."

"Hey," you said easily, "for the past six years, I've not touched a single document. Excuse me if I'm rusty. I'm not used to it."

About two or three weeks had passed since your return. You were more or less adjusted, but it was a convenient excuse.

"Speaking of which," Silas said, "you have yet to show me the memory stone of what you did those last six years."

"Oh. You're right — I haven't," you said hastily, "I thought I passed it to you?"

"Yes, but then you took it back, saying that you would prefer it if we watched it together." Silas leveled you with a stare. "And have you read my journal yet?"

Whoops. You hadn't. You had been so busy that all of your extra time had been spent on sleeping. In fact, as of now, lethargy was seeping into your bones. But still, from the tea you had downed (an obscene amount, really), your mind was still relatively awake.

"We can do that after you're done with whatever you're doing," you compromised.

You saw how Silas not so subtly shoved the documents to the side before he immediately stood up. "I'm done."

There was a small stretch of silence as you looked at him incredulously. "Did you just..."

"I'm done," Silas repeated stubbornly. "You said that you would leave some of the work for tonight, right? I'll do the same. I don't have much left, anyway."

You sighed. "Alright, fine. I suppose we'll both be in the same situation tonight. I better ask some of the maids to prepare some tea if we're going to stay up late to finish the rest of the work."

Silas smiled, satisfied. You walked over to his desk to tidy up his work, carefully organizing into neat little piles. You glanced at one of the letters and blinked your eyes in surprise.

"Why did you toss this aside, Silas?" You lifted it up to show him — it was an invitation to a ball.

"It's just another invitation to a social event. It's not compulsory."

You frowned. "It's held by Lady Ivory. She has quite the influence in nobility."

"So?" Silas said flippantly. "I'm the crown prince, aren't I?"

"Be careful now," you said wryly, "with that attitude, you're going to end up being overthrown by some unhappy commoners."

Silas fell silent. He couldn't refute that, and so he had quietly admitted defeat. He gave a long sigh, before plucking the invitation from your fingers. "It's a ball?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, before you chuckled. "You should be more excited. This will be our first ball!"

"Events like balls are boring..." Silas trailed off. "I haven't been to one, but I've heard enough horror stories about them to be reluctant to attend one."

"Horror stories?"

"For starters," Silas winced, "the Marquis got heavily intoxicated there and made a fool of himself."

"Pfft."

"Why are you laughing?"

"Surely you're not scared about that happening to you, Silas? Do you have a poor tolerance for alcohol?" You decided to tease him, watching as Silas's brows furrowed. When embarrassed, Silas's face did not turn red. Rather, he would look slightly agitated, with his brows often knitted like he was in deep thought. You always thought it was an endearing thing.

"I don't. My tolerance is quite high, truthfully. However I don't drink much," Silas said slowly. "I only drink when it's absolutely necessary."

You grew slightly curious. "And what are the times that you would deem necessary?"

"The times that I missed you," Silas said bluntly, "I would drink. Of course, this habit only formed after I turned eighteen."

Your mouth fell open. "Goodness. You must be an alcoholic, then. Didn't you miss me a lot?"

"Ah, well," Silas paused. "Now that you talk about it, I distinctly remember a servant being horrified because I powered my way through a few bottles of liquor. However, I do not recall being inebriated. As I said earlier, I seem to hold my alcohol quite well."

"Oh," you frowned. "Then why would you list getting heavily intoxicated as one of your reasons for not wanting to go to the ball?"

"It seemed like a convenient excuse to use," Silas said, before he quickly directed a question towards you: "what about you? Can you drink?"

"Funnily enough, I've never drunk before," you admitted. "I don't like the idea of it," you shuddered, "I'm fine with you drinking, because you seem to have a high tolerance for alcohol, but I fear that I will take after my mother. I wouldn't want to get loose lips or say something that I'll regret."

Ah, Silas thought, he remembered where this answer came from. Now that Silas knew the scent of alcohol, it was easier to piece the memories together. He remembered the day that you had been distraught and crying because of your mother — that day, a slight smell of liquor had clung onto you.

Your mother had been drunk when she told you those ill-meaning words, and now they had stuck to you. You would never touch a drink in your life.

"Well, if we go to a ball," Silas changed the subject, "it would mean that eyes will be on you."

"Is that so terribly bad?"

"...I suppose." Silas settled for a rather ambiguous answer instead of an outright yes, for fear that you would see him as jealous again. "I don't like the idea of people..." he trailed off.

After all, for all these years, you had been his secret. Yes, the servants and maids knew you, but no one else did. No other nobles knew you — you had been like a delicate, precious, well-guarded secret. But now, as you would make your debut in high society, you would be known to the masses.

Silas didn't like that idea at all. Not one bit.

"Oh, come on. It's purely political." You urged him, tugging his arm pleadingly. "Please? And I bet the desserts would be amazing. They say that Lady Ivory has a cook that makes the most mouth watering desserts."

Now, the ends of Silas's lips tugged up. "Is that so?"

Your love for sweet treats had never diminished over the years. The same case applied to him, Silas supposed.

"Yes. And I've said before that I need to make you into a terrific Emperor, didn't I? So please," you looked at Silas, "let's go to this ball. All you have to do is act like a gentleman and your social status would shoot right up. The minute that there's news of you going to this ball, high society will be buzzing about you, and your reputation can remain solid."

"I don't see the need," Silas said, perplexed, "am I not already destined to be Emperor? Why do I need all these useless things?"

"Oh, your father went through quite a bit of trouble," you told him. "Bandits and rebellions and whatnot. I heard he refused to do anything socially related, so he was seen as a cold Emperor who didn't seem to care about his subjects. They thought that he was aloof."

"He is aloof," Silas grumbled.

"My point is, we have to show our faces. We can't just remain within the walls of the palace forever. We have to be seen as untouchable, and yet also — there," you explained. "There's something powerful about accessibility, and there's also something strong about being unattainable. We have to balance both."

"So you're saying that going to this ball will strengthen and solidify my position as the future Emperor," Silas said at last.

You nodded your head.

(Whatever you said had been the truth, but perhaps it had been slightly exaggerated. You wanted to try the famous pumpkin pie that Lady Ivory's social events always had.)

"Fine," Silas sighed, "we shall go to our first ball, then. Would it be fine to make a debut at a ball that isn't arranged by the Imperial Family?"

"Lady Ivory's social events are the largest in history. Imperial ones are often reserved for the highest levels of nobility, and so the impact wouldn't be as big. If we want to make our debut, we have to do it in front of a lot of people. And besides, Lady Ivory has ties to the Imperial Family." You rattled on and on.

Silas sighed. "You thought of all these very meticulously, didn't you?"

"Well, I have been thinking about it. It just so happened that I spotted the invitation from Lady Ivory that you were about to throw away," you shot him a look.

"I didn't throw it away," Silas defended himself.

"Now I have to look through all the other invitations to see if you got rid of any important ones," you frowned. You started to neatly flip through the pile of letters.

Silas sighed. It looked like you two had gotten sidetracked, and now he would have to wait a while before he could see the memory stone.

Being the future Emperor is already annoying, he thought.

—

After an agonizingly long period of time, you finally finished examining the pile of letters. In the meantime, Silas had taken the liberty to finish some of the outstanding documents that had been left undone. But finally, he tugged on your arm lightly.

"I'm done with most of the documents, if not all," Silas told you. "Now, can I please see the memory stone?"

You felt a little sheepish for having spent so much time on a singular thing, and so you quickly brought Silas along to his room (which had quickly become your room, too) and took the memory stone. It was still in perfect condition.

Silas's journal was in your room, and you vowed to read it before bed. However, if it was too sentimental and sad, it wouldn't be pleasant to cry before bed.

Crying, you thought, slightly embarrassed, at twenty one, over a journal...

The mana stone flashed as you carefully imbued some mana inside it, and soon enough, you could see shaky moments of your life pass by.

First, was the interior of your house. The mana stone had captured it well, and even the lighting was immaculate.

"Here," you spoke wistfully, "do you see its appearance? That's how the inside of my house looks like. The rooms are a little small — nothing compared to your room — but it's pretty, don't you think?"

"It's small."

It looked like the size of Silas's bathroom.

"I just warned you about that. Your Highness, you didn't need to make that very clear observation." You rolled your eyes.

"But it's also very...furnished," Silas continued, "and not in a cluttered way. It's cozy. Are those daffodils?"

"Yeah, my favorite flower." You smiled. "And that's my mother, cooking dinner. I didn't tell her of the memory stone, because she doesn't have a good memory of it. I had to take this moment in secret."

Of course, Silas couldn't smell what your mother was cooking from the memory stone, but he could certainly see the careful hands that prepared your meal, and the occasional clang of the pots and clink of the cutlery. It was a homely vibe, and Silas quite liked it.

"And that's my view of my room — near the window," you told him, as the memory stone shifted to a different moment.

In the memory stone, Silas could see the bright sunlight streaming through the windows to shine on your face. He thought it was especially beautiful. Silas thought that you were especially beautiful, and he couldn't help but be mesmerized by you. This was what you had reduced him to — a lovestruck fool. A fool.

"This squirrel always likes to visit me," you said, as the memory stone showed several fluid images of a squirrel biting a nut, "so I always feed him."

"Did you name him?"

"Not really," you said ruefully, "I usually called him buddy. I wonder if he still comes, and if my mother feeds him."

Silence fell again as the images shifted. Silas watched the memories with rapt attention, watching as your daily life went by. There were moments in which the memory was perfectly still, simply fixated on a beautiful scenery or view, or other times, it would just be the sound he would be hearing. Birds chirping, the caw of the roosters that your mother now kept, the sounds of water sloshing in the sink.

It was tranquil and dream-like, but most of all, Silas adored it when he got to see your face. From the time that passed in the memory stone, he had seen your face become more adult-like, more mature.

You shifted a bit. Silas's weight was pressing against yours, and you were starting to feel a little smothered. You nudged him.

"Silas, will you..."

"Yes."

You laughed. "I haven't even asked you my question yet."

"Ask me to do anything, and I will," Silas answered, and you flushed.

"Why did you give such a poetic declaration? I just wanted you to move a little more to the left. I'm feeling suffocated."

Perhaps you were just shaken from the memory stone. Here you were, watching all the moments captured that would never happen again. Nostalgia — it was all gut wrenching. Time continued to move forward — it would never stop. You would never be able to go back ever, and you could only move forward. Even this time with Silas — you could never have this back.

Your chest suddenly felt heavy. You let out a shaky breath. Thoughts like this — it did you no good.

Silas caught the tremor in your eyes, and he obliged by your words. He looped one arm around your waist, and now he was supporting your weight. You thought it was a comfortable position and approved of it. You could hear his steady heartbeat too, with your back pressed against his chest. Silas held you there, and you felt safe.

With Silas's arms circled around you...you didn't know how, but you felt a sense of security overwhelm you. Silas tended to have that soothing effect on you.

You let out a small exhale, audibly relaxing. Silas's hand reached for yours and soon your fingers were interlaced, his thumb lightly pressing against the palm of your hand and tracing patterns. Silas seemed to have sense that momentary panic — and now he soothed you wordlessly with his touch.

You smiled, turning back to face him. His gaze flickered to yours, inquisitive.

You mouthed a thank you to him and squeezed his hand. Silas smiled.

The memory stone continued playing, but it was just simply scenery of the things around you. You opened your mouth to speak.

"Do you have any questions for me? Regarding what you saw so far in the memory stone, of course. Right now, the stone's just playing some nature stuff. I doubt you would be interested in that."

Silas pondered over the question for a while. "I saw just now — you slept with the window open."

You blinked. That had played for the slightest second. Silas's eyes were sharp.

"Oh, right."

"Were you not scared? That something could enter your room whilst you slept?"

"Of course I was," you said honestly. "But I liked the breeze, and I liked it when the moonlight from the sky — I liked it when the moonlight streamed through the open window and hit my ceiling."

"So your ceiling would be bathed in light?"

"Yes, exactly," you softened. "Let me tell you a secret, Silas. I had a lot of bad moments at home. Perhaps the good outweighed the bad — but there were a lot of times I felt this smothering, suffocating loneliness threatening to swallow me. And I would wonder if this period of time — away from you — was a big mistake. But then, when I would look up at the ceiling and see it all bathed in resplendent, soft moonlight — I don't know," you reddened, realizing how childish it seemed. "I would feel assured."

You caught the look on Silas's face and laughed. "Of course, I don't expect you to understand. The very reason eludes me, too. But either way, it was comforting. Do you know, Silas?"

"What?"

"My ceiling has this tiny splotch of red."

"Red?"

"Yeah, from a failed painting job," you laughed, "my mother tried to paint the walls and the ceilings of my room red, but she spilled it all over the carpet and one part splattered to the ceiling. And now, there's this small blotch of red on my ceiling."

"Your mother tried to paint the walls and the ceilings of your room red? Was she trying to make it look like a massacre happened there?" Silas asked.

"I think you're the one who would know about massacres," you said wryly. "Anyway...."

Silas didn't say anything to that. He didn't get why you were telling him this.

"Anyway, when the moonlight streams into my room — when it shines on the ceiling —" you paused. "You know the effect that moonlight has, right? It tends to be blue."

"Yes," Silas answered. What were these details leading up to?

"And when that moonlight shone on that splotch of red — the colour — red and blue mixed together — it would be purple. And for a brief moment, I would think of your eyes. I would feel like I was looking at your eyes, and I would relax. I wouldn't feel so scared anymore...maybe that was the reason I slept with the window open," you murmured. "Huh. I guess the reason doesn't elude me, after all."

It had been such a simple question from such a sharp, astute observation: why do you keep the windows open when you fall asleep?

And yet the reason...it all centered and circled around him. The reason had been so —

So precious.

So endearing, and so, so beautiful. How sweet.

Silas's breaths hitched.

You did this effortlessly. You made him feel this way effortlessly.

You were simply so perfect.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You furrowed your eyebrows, reaching out to flick his forehead. "Did you really get this emotional after our conversation? It's nothing serious."

"Y/n," Silas spoke up.

"What?"

"I'll attend the ball."

"What are you talking about? Earlier on, you already said that you would." You said, evidently confused.

"I'll attend the ball," Silas repeated, this time with stubbornness inching into his tone. "But you can't."

You blinked, before you looked at him, completely flabbergasted.

"What? Are you out of your mind?"

"I've thought about it since earlier. Their eyes will be on you, since you're so needlessly perfect and attractive and wonderful and endearing —"

"Hold on, now," you interrupted hastily, feeling that if you didn't stop Silas now, he would go on a terrible tangent — "didn't you say that we would both go? Why would you change your mind?"

"I suddenly realized how annoying it would be."

"Suddenly? You're not the kind to change your mind. Why the sudden choice?"

It's because you're too bright, Silas thought to himself, seeing you smile just now....hearing your words...I realized that it would be a hassle for me if too many people fell in love with you.

And besides, you were at a dating age. Who knew if some random lady or guy made advances on you? There was already Silvia, who happened to be annoyingly pretty...

"Y/n, what's your type? I've been meaning to ask this."

"What's wrong with you?" You gawked at him, "why do you want to know my type? I thought we were just talking about the memory stone, and now you've switched subjects twice. Can you really not keep a single conversation going?"

"Ah?" Silas shrugged loosely, his lips curling into a smile, "I want to known for future — current — reference."

"Hmm," you hummed, "I've never really thought about it. But perhaps someone dependable might be good? Or maybe someone who's oddly protective...someone who gets jealous..." you laughed. "I don't know. I would want someone who makes their affections known and clear, so as to minimize misunderstandings."

Silas felt satisfied with this. But there was a more pressing matter at hand.

"What about for appearances? What's your type?" Silas quickly asked.

"Ah," you looked to be in deep thought at that. "I don't really care about appearances, but if you were to ask about preference, maybe I would say that I prefer someone with long hair? I've always liked long hair, for some odd reason."

Silas felt mollified at that before he realized that you could very well be talking about girls.

"What else?" He pushed further.

"I've always liked gem-like eyes," you said thoughtfully, "ones that shine," you said. "I've always found myself drowning in them."

Come to think of it, didn't Silvia's eyes resemble emeralds?

"Like yours," you flashed Silas a bright smile, "I've always loved eyes like yours."

"...And I have long hair, too." Silas added.

"Hmm? Yes, you do. I've always been surprised that you didn't cut it."

"Why would I? You said a long time ago that it would be better if I didn't cut it."

"Did I? Honestly, I think that you would look handsome either way," you admitted, "but you do look especially pretty this way."

"Pretty," Silas echoed.

"Let's not be picky with compliments. Would you rather me call you my precious darling knight in shining armor who has a face so gorgeous that he can make women faint? I'm assuming the answer is no."

"When did you get so witty with replies?"

"I don't know, since now?" You giggled. "You're fun to tease."

You brought your hand to Silas's head then, and he let out a quiet, soft exhale as your fingers traveled from his scalp to play with the loose strands of his hair. Slowly, you undid his bun, and his hair came cascading down. Silas's hair was soft to the touch and silky — it must have been hard for him to maintain that with his hair being so long. And it was relaxing for you too, to run your fingers through the strands of his hair.

"Y/n." Silas said softly. "So I'm assuming that you are going to the ball."

"Yes, Silas, I am."

"Then can you be less lovely to the other people?"

"Really, you..." you looked at him, exasperated. "Are you asking me to be rude to them?"

"Can you? What if I say that it's the crown prince's orders?"

"Then I would hit you on the head and say that you're petty, and that my role as your butler is to stop you from doing such ludicrous things."

"Y/n," Silas called again.

"Hmm?"

See, Silas thought, you are so endlessly patient. So warm, so gentle. You...

Silas was head over heels for you. He had always known that. You two always throwed the simple word love around easily, but for him, it was true, genuine, and real. Silas was in love with you in every sense of the world. He loved you platonically, romantically, emotionally. He loved you in every aspect.

"Just now when you described your ideal type," Silas said bluntly, "isn't it just me?"

"Oh, I suppose so." You smiled. "I mean, I've spent so much time with you. In fact, you're like the only one that I've spent my life with — wouldn't it be stranger if I didn't base my type off you?"

That...wasn't the point.

How could you be so astute and yet so dense when it came to love? You had caught Silvia's feelings for you immediately, and yet with him...

Though, in a way, it made sense. Silas had no doubt that you, too, loved him. And perhaps because you had spent the entirety of your life loving him, it had become the norm for you. Your love for him had been so constant that you had never bothered to label it or to find out what it was.

Now there were a few problems that stood in Silas's way. One, Silvia. Two, the ball. In a way, he would have to be like a guard dog to ensure that there would be no one who would dare to get in your good graces. Or perhaps that would be too much — the point was, Silas would make sure that no one got too close with you.

Also, he would try his best to make sure that you conversed with people who did not have long hair. Or gem coloured eyes that sparkled.

...Am I being too childish? Silas wondered, I could be. Would you find it endearing, or would you grow angry at him? He would prefer the former.

"Ah, I suppose Silvia won't be able to attend." You said suddenly. "That's a pity for her. She's always liked reading those books about nobility."

"What a pity," Silas said tonelessly.

"You're the same as ever. You don't sound a bit sorry."

"I don't," Silas admitted.

"Well, I haven't talked to her much lately. I haven't talked to her at all, as a matter of fact. I've seen her a couple of times, but I guess I never bothered to say anything to her because she seemed pretty busy. And besides, I had always been in a rush, so I couldn't stop by simply to say hi to her."

"...Really? You haven't spoken with her?"

You caught Silas's expression and once again, flicked him on the forehead with fond exasperation. "Don't make your happiness so obvious. Did you not bond with her in the six years that I was gone?"

"I made a truce with her." Silas offered.

"A truce?" You repeated, aghast. "And she agreed to it?"

"It was like an unspoken agreement. But we did exchange a few words."

"We could have been a good trio," you said sorrowfully, "but you two are so cold towards each other. Silvia and you got along relatively well the year we met, though. Remember how we even teamed up to save for her birthday gift?"

Silas remembered that. Up to now, Silvia still wore that necklace around her neck. It softened his feelings of animosity towards her.

"Well, we were young."

"Uh-huh," you said, unconvinced. "Anyway, just to confirm one last time: we are going to the ball. Together," you looked at him with a hard look to emphasize.

Silas reached out to bury you in his arms. He nuzzled your neck, his lips grazing your skin. You readily held him and smiled, faintly amused at this sudden gesture. You could smell that nice and familiar scent of his, drifting to your nostrils. Silas probably used the same bath scents and oils that he did as a kid. It was pleasant, for it to be so familiar.

"Yes," Silas whispered. "We are."

Yes, Silas was still slightly irked at the fact that you would be on full display in front of everyone. And now that you had casually been so endearing and sweet, it was positively torturing him that others would witness your warmth as well.

But still...

How could Silas ever say no to you?

—

very unserious chapter haha I feel like you guys deserve that because of how you guys have endured the wait for their reunion (and the angst that has been constant from like day one) but anyway writing Silas is a tad hard because I'm still mulling over how to flesh out his characters. At these times I wish I could draw so I could better visualize his expressions LOL

thank you for the support so far on allegiance!! it truly means the world to me. Updates won't be as regular as before, but don't worry, they'll still be fast! Now I'm thinking about 1-2 times a week or maybe more if I'm feeling like it. But don't worry since I have my heart set on completing allegiance, though we still have quite a bit to go through.

we're entering romance territory ^^ hope you guys are looking forward to that. thank you for waiting 30 chapters for it LOL. I did another word count adding up and I realized this fic had had 131k words written for it so far which is like twice the length of my usual fanfics. errrrrrr whoops... the chapters were never meant to be this long. They were supposed to be like 2k but somehow they exploded to like 4.5k-6k. Not complaining at all though, always a joy to write about!

(some stuff will happen at the ball haha you guys are going to see another side of Silas too... and that side is hopefully more refined and yet still er...)

(and possession will be updated next)

hope everyone liked this chapter!! if you haven't already, do vote on it!

how was it?