a/n; first part may be a little repetitive but I promise it all pays off at the end of the chapter!! do vote and comment as it would greatly motivate me :) thank you for all the support so far!!

—

It was terrifying to age.

If there was a fear that stuck with you from a young age to now, it would be becoming older.

Unlike fears like spiders or cracks or the darkness, the fear of growing up was something that couldn't be outgrown. It stuck to you, like an obstinate insect bite that refused to be treated.

For the majority of your life, you had felt that time was picky. Sometimes, it moved too fast, and you would be eight, then nine. And yet at other times, like when you were ten and itching to go back to the palace, it would crawl by agonisingly slowly, like a drawn out, intentional method of torture. Time didn't let you choose the moments that you wanted long, or short. It shoved it in your mouth and you would be forced to accept what it wanted.

But obviously, it was the treasured moments that slipped by, and it was the worse moments that went at a snail's pace.

And now, time flew by.

Twenty days after the ball, a new season came. Your hair grew longer, and you now had to tie it in a short ponytail. You promised yourself that you would soon cut it, for it was bothersome to maintain, but your work kept you busy. Silas's hair, however, stayed long and silky. You were amused by it: by his tenacity to have long hair just because of the few words you had said once.

(Long hair is my type, Silas.) It seemed like the prince had taken the words to heart. Though, it was getting to the point where he would really have to trim it a little. It was cascading to his waist.

Thirty one days after the ball — a full month, you readied your heart to grow. You dedicated time to meditating (at first, you had deemed it as a myth; as something people made up so as to comfort themselves) — but meditating did work; your wounds grew less painful and your heart became calmer.

Two months after the ball, you started journaling again. Of course, your old journal was still kept with your mother, for her to read when her days grew lonely and weary, but you thought it was a good idea to start again. You passed it to Silas to read occasionally and he sometimes grumbled about how you had yet to accept his feelings, even though you had finally picked up an old hobby. You ruffled his hair, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and told him to be patient.

Order, you told yourself, order, above all. I need to be in a clean slate.

A clean slate...

Unfortunately, due to time constraints, you and Silas didn't have much free time. Even though you were practically glued to his side (as your job entailed) — gone were the days where you two could hang out in the gardens and waste time away, or indulge in leisure talk. The only things that remained were lingering touch and fleeting gazes, and Silas wasn't satisfied.

He never was, nowadays. Silas complained incessantly about being overworked to the bone and constantly cursed his father's name under his breath, saying that if not for the two lazy fuckers — (he had said this loudly, which has shocked numerous officials) — you two would at least have the time to talk with one another.

You thought it was all very amusing, but truthfully, you were frustrated, too. It was a harsh transition from the life that you had grown accustomed to living — everyday now was work, work, work.

You still had time to admire the palace, though, like you always had.

Your adulthood was spent here. Your childhood was spent here. The walls of the palace had become like a trick in the mirror maze: during the times you caught the glimpses of yourself in the mirror, it was like seeing your flaws highlighted in front of you.

The illusion would startle you, and you would see your mother in yourself. You would imagine how your mother was within you, as you were within her, layered, folds and curves until you two looked the same.

You thought of your mother a lot, but not in a negative way. You thought about how a woman's life was her own until a child would rip it away — you thought of how her actions were almost justified. A mother created a child, but ultimately, a child created a mother. You were a needle to your mother's heart, a hostage to her routine, and you were ultimately her freedom's end.

In the end, by saying those dreaded words you were a mistake, she freed herself from that life.

How could you fault her for that?

(You would never tell Silas this. He would get too angry on your behalf and he would say that it wasn't right that you were justifying her cruelty.)

So you fixated on the sillier things. The funnier things. The childish things. It was a little hobby of yours, spotting the little differences between the past and the present. You would chatter Silas's ear off by analysing every bit of the changes in the palace  ("I bet they changed chair's place from there to here because the servants sneakily like to rest when no one's looking.") — and the prince would listen dutifully.

He seemed to drink your words in.

Silas wasn't much of a talkative person. He teased you, yes, but rarely would he be as talkative as you.

He was the listener, and you, the talker. You saw the look in his eyes as you rambled — oh, Silas loved it. If possible, he would have tattooed your voice on him, so that he would always remember and remember and remember.

You knew Silas listened because he always had that soft, inquisitive look to him, like he could never be bored with your words. He didn't just nod his head along, he would ask follow-up questions that proved that he did listen to every word you said.

Silas listened to you even when you talked about a wide range of topics. He always had that adoring, doting look on his face that made your heart flutter uncontrollably.

Each time, you would think, Oh, I love Silas.

There was never a limit to love. There was only growth.

And you loved the fact that with each passing moment and day, your love for Silas only grew more and more.

Is it possible, you thought, to love someone so much?

—

Three months after the ball, someone poisoned you.

It was a stupid, careless attempt.

You were resistant to poison, after all.

And yet still, still — you had caught the look of darkness return to Silas's eyes again, menacing and thirsty for revenge. He knew you didn't like violence (you had told him once that you abhorred it, though it was more of a warning for him to stop hurting himself) — and so he had so gently and tenderly placed a coat around your shoulders, telling you not to look.

You were confused. After all, you were unharmed. You were strong. You could have easily killed the man yourself. But then again, Silas was your prince. Your master. As his butler, you simply listened to his soft whisper to turn your head away. Your ears were not deaf, though, and obviously you could tell what had just happened.

You spoke to Silas about that incident on that day. Silas thought you were going to reprimand him, but really, all you wanted to do was to figure out the true culprit of the poisoning. The drink hadn't affected you the slightest, and so you had assumed it was untouched — but the quiver of the perpetuator's lips as well as the shakiness of his hands had affirmed his guilt.

The drink you were supposed to drink was meant for Silas. You just had a habit of taking the first sip, however.

Then, when you had realised, you thought to yourself that you were glad that the man had died.

"Obviously, he was a pawn thrown away. I've asked the officials to dig deeper into the issue," you told Silas, dabbing at his bloodied cheek. His eyes widened when he realized that you weren't angry at him — that you weren't furious at him for killing someone.

"You aren't angry at me," Silas whispered. "You..."

"When one tries to kill someone, it's expected that you repay them the favour," you smiled. "He was to be executed, anyway. All you did was speed up his fate."

"I got furious at the idea of him even daring to poison you," Silas confessed.

"You forget that I'm more than capable enough to protect myself," you sighed, "and Silas, he was trying to poison you. It was by pure chance that I drank it first. You aren't poison resistant."

"I recover incredibly fast, as compared to you," Silas pointed out.

"I, on the other hand, wouldn't need fast recovery because I wouldn't even need recovery in the first place." You reminded Silas. "So stop being so worried all the time." 

"I'm afraid that you're so kind that you won't hurt anyone." Silas frowned, "so I have to do the hurting for you."

"You make yourself sound like a bloodthirsty murderer." You flicked Silas's forehead, "and besides, what kind of saintly image do you have of me?"

"Because you're so sweet to other people."

"I'm not, and you know that."

"So you should maybe be meaner to others," Silas suggested.

You rolled your eyes, but you were giggling by then. "So I'll be meaner to you, Silas."

"As your prince, I order you not to do that."

"And as the person you love, I order you not to do that order."

Silas pressed his lips. "Why must you tease me this way when you know that you aren't going to give me a concrete answer yet?"

"A concrete answer to what?" You asked innocently.

"You know, Y/n," Silas murmured. "You know what I'm talking about. Or do you want me to give you an example?"

You smiled. "You wouldn't, not without my permission."

"So please give me permission," Silas whispered, "please, Y/n."

His hands had encircled your waist then, and you were faintly aware of the little distance between the two of you.

He was so adorable to tease, you thought. It had always been him doing the teasing — perhaps it was your time to shine.

You pressed your forehead against his, and for a brief moment, you leaned in, and he stilled —

Then you broke apart and backed away, looking playfully at him.

"Wait a little longer."

Oh, Silas thought, you are so cruel, Y/n.

—

How much longer was 'a little longer'?

Evidently, you were making Silas wait. You were making Silas earn you.

It has been four months so far, since that unspoken promise between the two of you. Silas noticed how you were slowly fixing all of your bad habits, little by little: you slept earlier, woke up earlier, and didn't severely overwork like you used to. Whatever spare time you had, you spent in the open sunlight, conversing with random servants and laughing with them. It was clear that you were trying to make it so that your whole world didn't revolve around Silas, anymore.

Silas didn't like that, but he knew those were part of your efforts to ready yourself to accept his love.

Silas thought he could speed up your answer by actively wooing you, the way other people wooed their beloveds. He brought your flowers every week, much to the excitement of the people in the palace who loved gossip — he kissed you goodnight on the forehead each time (Silas had assumed you would tear away from his touch, but it had marveled him to see you wilt at his touch, giving in so easily), and he was blatant in his affections.

If there was one thing that Silas liked, it would be embarrassing you.

It could have been an important meeting, and somehow Silas's hands would find the time to snake around you coyly.

"Marquis William, if you could —"

Your words would stutter and pause there and then as Silas would lean on you, smug and complacent.

"Prince's orders." He whispered.

"Please...don't do this, Silas. This is mortifying, and you know that. You're doing this on purpose. You're —"

Silas leaned on you anyway, and you would turn as red as an apple as the rest of the officials would hide their smiles behind their hands. Yes, you had told Silas that you wanted him to be respected and equally feared, but this was just —!

"You like it, anyway." Silas murmured loftily.

"This should be done in private," you hissed.

"You're making it sound like we're going to do something very indecent," Silas raised a brow, smiling, "unless you mean to do something indecent?"

"If you say those kinds of misleading things, I'm going to address you as Your Highness for the rest of your life." You threatened. "so stop this madness."

"Then I'll order you not to do that," Silas said lazily.

"I'm sorry, everyone." you would mutter to the bright eyed officials around you. (They were too bright eyed, you thought miserably. This wasn't a spectacle for them to gawk at.) "His Highness isn't feeling well. That's why he's talking all that nonsense. Take his words with a grain of salt."

"I'm not sure they can," Silas said after a while, "I am the future Emperor, after all."

Marquis William shook his head. "It's alright. You can adjourn the meeting, Your Highness. Private matters should be dealt with — privately, of course."

You shoved Silas — hard. "See? They're already getting the wrong ideas."

"What are the wrong ideas?" Silas asked you innocently. "Your mind is venturing into different places of your own volition."

"Ignore him — please."

(The officials tried. It was hard to just ignore the sight of an irritated butler and an overly affectionate prince.)

But, they thought, that sight was much better than seeing the former Emperor and Butler coldly converse with one another.

—

By the time the end of fourth month rolled by, Silas was starting to grow weary.

He was convinced that at this point, you were toying with him. You were the happiest that he had seen you: all starry eyed, bounce in step, and merry laughter. Clearly, you were back in your element after reconciling with your mother and abandoning all thoughts of your father.

Silas knew you were teasing him, for there was one time you had nearly kissed him and he was ready to kiss back —

And then some servant had called for your name in the corridors, and you had promptly left him behind, blank faced and looking innocent. Silas had blinked once, twice, thrice, before he realized that you had effortlessly poked fun at him, again.

Silvia didn't do anything stupid, did she? Silas thought, she didn't go and confess her feelings to Y/n, right? Because if she did, I'm going to annihilate her and —

Still, you didn't look at her with the same light in your eyes that you had when you looked at him. It was a different glow that separated Silas and everyone else completely: with everyone else, you were polite and friendly. With him, you practically shone. You illuminated the room. He made you —

If it's so obvious that Y/n loves me, Silas thought, why doesn't he just accept my feelings?

If he thought you cruel earlier on, now Silas thought you as sadistic.

Clearly you were delighting in his suffering.

It was back to the old days once more, when you would hide from Silas as he tried to find you in the gardens. Silas thought to himself that this kind of waiting — though agonising — was still relatively pleasant.

(He would take his words back sooner or later.)

—

It was the first day of the fifth month. You were going to be twenty two soon. Silvia had already started poking around to see what you wanted for your birthday.

"You can make more of those sweets," you suggested to her, "you know: blueberry pie, chocolate cake..."

"I see your sweet tooth never wavers," Silvia said in amusement. "Sure."

You were about to turn away from her before she called your name, and you looked back.

"Y/n," Silvia said, and she looked a little awkward in her actions.

"Silvie?"

"I was just wondering —" Silvia halted, "everybody already knows that His Highness loves you. So when are you going to accept his feelings...? Forgive me for speaking so out of line, and for venturing into places that do not involve me — but it's clear that you love His Highness too. It's been five months."

...Huh.

So Silvia was that kind of selfless person. You knew she loved you, and here she was, giving up on her love for you to push for your happiness. She was the kind of friend one would want.

"Has it really been five months?" You wondered. "I've been having so much fun teasing Silas, that it seems that I've neglected the time..."

Again, time passed incredibly fast when you were at your happiest and highest. And it seemed that it had struck again, and now in a blink of an eye, nearly half a year had passed since the ball.

The memory of it was still clear and bright in your mind, though. It would take amnesia for you to forget Silas and his actions.

"Yes, Y/n," Silvia chewed on his lip, "if you delay it any longer, I fear that His Highness will go mad."

"Mad?" You repeated, "hm. Now that I think of it, that does sound like what he'll do. I'm amazed at his patience, really."

"Did you make him wait just because you wanted to tease him?" Silvia couldn't help but wonder, "or was there any underlying issue that you wanted to solve? You told me before that you wanted to improve yourself first before you did anything else — but from the looks of it, it seems that you've already — recovered," she finished off. "Perhaps recovered is a lackluster term to use, for I know it's impossible to —"

Astute, you thought, Silvia is astute as ever. If she received proper education, she would probably be able to stand above all the officials. Maybe you would make it a point to hint to Silas.

"That's what I wondered too," you said thoughtfully, "and yes, I do deem myself as deserving enough to accept Silas's love now, but how do I explain this...? There are things that I want to affirm first. Things that are outside my control."

John hadn't sent you his reply yet, though it had been five months. You figured that he was probably searching around right now, wanting to get an accurate answer to your question. You were willing to wait, for you wanted to be assured that the trigger to the curse could be something you could actively prevent.

And if it wasn't something you could prevent, would you dare to take the risk?

"What could that possibly be?" Silvia asked, mystified. "Is there something that could deter even you?"

"I only learnt of it a year or two ago," you laughed, "and it's more of fate. Kismet. The will of the gods. I am powerless in front of it."

So the question was — would you be willing to plunge yourself headfirst into a relationship with Silas where you two were destined to fail? There would be the sweet, sweet rise, until the devastating fall. Would you be willing to reach for the stars and then devastate yourself by making the fall even more painful?

Silvia saw your contemplation and spoke up.

"Obviously, I don't know what problems you're having. But I can offer you advice, just like I did back then."

"So you're my advisor, then?" You teased her.

A soft smile dawned on Silvia's face. "I suppose so. That title is esteemed, and I would be glad to hold it."

You didn't exactly know what to say to that, for it was clear she was aching. She had just been advisor-zoned by you. Even if she was being awfully decent about it, Silvia was still a girl with an unrequited love. You couldn't do anything about it, though, and she knew that too.

She would have to move on.

"So," you spoke up, "what are you proposing now?"

"You love His Highness dearly, don't you?"

"Yes," you said immediately, with no hesitation. "I do."

"Then maybe it's better to be selfish, Y/n," Silvia murmured. "To abandon all worries and go straight for it. I have a feeling that regret is worse than sorrow. At least then, no matter what external circumstances affect the two of you — you will know that you two tried. There's beautiful relief in knowing that you tried, and that could very well be your salvation."

There's beautiful relief in knowing that you tried, and that could very well be your salvation. What haunting truth.

"You know how to talk to someone very well," you said wryly, "your future husband will be lucky."

"I hope so," Silvia said quietly.

She felt like once she got properly rejected by you, she would not have the courage to crush on someone else instead. Even as she waited for your imminent rejection, even as she knew you would reject her — she still felt dread, all the same.

Even if one knew what was coming, it was easy to fear it. It was the same thing with death — even when everyone knew it was inevitable, they all feared it. There was the fear of not doing enough, of not repenting, of pain.

She couldn't help but wonder at times if things would have been different if she had met you sooner than Silas. But then again, probably nothing would have changed.

"Alright then," you said, "I'll do what you say. I'll be selfish. I think I deserve to be selfish, for once," you smiled.

"I'm rooting for you," Silvia whispered.

You started to work away, tossing her a bright smile.

That was the smile that Silvia had fallen in love with. She hoped that His Highness would ensure that the smile on your face would forever be there.

—

When night crawled by, you found that the only light that was on was the one in your study. Everywhere was dark now — it was nearly midnight. There were the faint sounds of the bats flying outside the window, as well as the steady sound of the rain pouring. It was a cold and rainy night.

You stayed at your desk, and Silas thoughtfully placed a blanket on you.

"It's the kind of weather where you just want to sleep," you remarked, "it's more cozy than cold."

A fire merrily crackled away in the fireplace. Silas threw on another log absentmindedly.

"You can sleep," Silas offered. "I'll finish up the work for you."

"I couldn't possibly do that to you."

"You've done alot to me already," Silas said airily, casting a knowing look at you, "five months, Y/n. Do you want me to go crazy?"

"You were crazy from the start."

Silas amended his answer. "You'll make me even more crazy."

"Is that even possible?" You couldn't help but wonder, perplexed. "That you can be even crazier than you are now?"

"I've not done a lot this few months," Silas defended himself, "though," he added. "There are plenty of things that I want to do."

"Like what?" You questioned him, "making more unnecessary public displays of affection?"

"They are hardly public."

"Hardly? Do you mean kissing me on the cheek during an official meeting with a foreign diplomat, no less? That's going to make us seem unprofessional."

"They can call us unprofessional," Silas said, "it can be their last words."

"You're not getting it," you pointed out. "I'm saying that it's not good to be so touchy feely in front of others. Marquis William seemed to be constipated witnessing how sweet you were."

"Maybe because he's single," Silas carelessly said. "And he's jealous."

"You're single too." You said.

"Yes, because of someone..."

Silas was nibbling on your ear now. You swatted him away. "Stop trying to —!"

"What?" Silas asked you innocently, "it's not like I'm kissing you, or anything. It's not like I'm undressing you and —"

"I get your point," you said hastily, "shut up."

Silas frowned. "I'm serious, though. Are you ever going to give me an answer? I can only accept a certain amount of teasing. You've been delaying this," he said, "on purpose. Are you not afraid that my patience is wearing thin?"

"Doesn't seem like it is."

"Y/n."

"Yes?"

"Enough of the games," Silas couldn't help but snap a little, "I'm human, Y/n. I have my desires. I desire you. I want you. I love you. Are you a monk? How are you holding back? I know you love me back. But it doesn't even seem like you have the faintest bit of desire towards me."

You did. You were still a person. You still had your desires. You still had lust, obviously.

"I do have my own feelings towards you," you said, half amused and half irritated, "I'm waiting for something."

Silas looked even more irked. "Waiting for what?"

"Quiet. You sound like you're starved."

"Maybe because I am."

"...Point taken."

You recalled Silvia's words. I have a feeling that regret is worse than sorrow.

That was true. What she said had been true — would it be better to indulge in yourself and face the consequences later, or would it be better for you to not reciprocate Silas's feelings and to ensure that you and Silas would forever be trapped in a situation where neither would be hurt or happy?

You lifted your hand up and traced his jawline, feeling his eyes follow your every move. Silas's breaths were soft and hitched, and when you pressed your other hand against his chest, you could hear how loud and fast his heart was thudding. You smiled at that, and your fingers went to his lips, pressing gently down on it.

"Don't torture me like this," Silas said, his voice cracking.

"Torture?"

"You will do all of this, and yet you will make me wait again," Silas breathed out, "you'll torment me again. I would rather you not—"

"Wait?" You inquired, raising a brow, "who said anything about waiting?"

"Y/n."

"I love you, Silas," you smiled, "I love you. You know I always have, but I haven't been very vocal about it, have I? I think...I might heed the advice from someone. I think I might want to be selfish, for the first time in my life."

"What are you saying, Y/n?" Silas asked, and his tone was a touch desperate. It was disbelieving, too, like he didn't dare to imagine the implications of your words.

"My dear prince," you laughed softly, "I'm confessing to you."

"Confessing," Silas repeated feverishly, "such words don't hold weight if you don't follow up with actions."

"Would you want to lead the way, then?"

"You are giving me permission?" Silas asked, his voice low and his lips hungering for you, "I can..."

His fingers were tipping your chin now, angling your face to the side for better access to your lips. Your eyes crinkled when you smiled, and you nodded your head.

Your lips collided with his.

You weren't sure whether it was Silas or you who had initiated the kiss. It had simply felt natural. You felt Silas kiss you softly and firmly, as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. His hold on you tightened and your eyes fluttered shut — you relaxed your body, surrendering yourself entirely to him. The kiss was sweet, tender, and yet consuming. You nearly forgot how to breathe then, your mind clouded by Silas.

You two parted lips and you had to catch your breath, your chest rising up and down. Silas's hand trailed down and stayed on your cheek, and his eyes were heavy, like he wanted more.

"What made you say yes?" Silas couldn't help but ask quietly. He seemed delighted — not only at your flushed appearance, but by the fact that you were now his — irrecoverably and completely. He was yours, and you were his.

"Some words of advice," you smiled. "To be self-centered. And this is my selfish desire laid out to you, Silas. Despite what happens, I will love you."

Silas's smile was like the sun, unrivalled and beautiful. He kissed you again, and you completely melted in his arms.

Oh, but see — you had neglected the price to pay for being selfish.

—

yay kiss! only took like 145k words to get here i guess...but then again majority of the fic so far has been them before the adult arc hahah woops. silvia best girl after annie

Anyway, I think the goal of this chapter was to kind of show how MC thinks he's maturing + that he's not so affected by his mother anymore (hence why he thinks he's in a clean slate to love Silas)  but it's the very opposite. as can be seen in the first part, he justifies his mother's unhealthy actions towards him and puts the burden on himself. (So in the end, he's still very self deprecating — but BUT MC will get more character development trust!! and I think he has evolved from his earlier mindset so slowly does it)

that action will have consequences but I suppose you guys got a kiss this chapter so we cheer I guess

hope everyone liked it though!! do vote and add this fic to your library to get notified for updates :)

how was it?

++ do check out my new bnha fic to be whole if you haven't! it's found family angst survivor guilt blah blah  (along those lines) so if you like those stuff u can go ahead and check it out on my profile!