a/n; before we start, there is a fade out, which basically means that there's implied sex, but it isn't written out. (though there is suggestive content; nothing too major though) don't be too disappointed lol - but I'll say it again: allegiance has no smut. if you want anything frisky possession has copious amounts of it.

and I had a lot of people ask me about you know; top or bottom etc; but I won't specify. it's obviously not integral to the plot anyway so leave it up to your imagination

do vote on the chapter and comment as it would greatly motivate me!

—

Silas and you were officially lovers.

There weren't that many changes in your relationship with him, except for the fact that your love for each other was now confirmed. Silas was smitten, enamoured, besotted with you, and likewise.

And now, as you were halfway awake in his arms, Silas traced his knuckles along your jawline tenderly. When you had opened your eyes, the prince had already been gazing at you — looking at you; like you were the most precious thing in the world to ever exist.

"Never took you to wake up so early. Were you looking at me this whole time? You could have woken me up," you told him. You shifted in his arms and Silas merely smiled, pressing a feathery kiss to your temple.

"You looked so peaceful and relaxed. I couldn't possibly have disrupted your sleep."

You rolled your eyes. "You did that with great eagerness yesterday."

"I couldn't help it," Silas said shamelessly, "you were irresistible."

"Are you going to be like that from now on?"

"Like what?"

"You know," you looked at him, "all lovey-dovey."

Silas looked offended at that. "Do you mean to say that I've not been loving and tender with you before this?"

Well...Silas had a point. When you really thought about it, the prince had been wooing with you with great gusto. Even when you two were little, Silas was always affectionate. It was funny how he had evolved from being a taciturn, prickly person to an overly sweet lover. Even now, he peppered kisses along your face: your forehead, nose, cheek. It was like his lips were glued to your cheek.

"You have," you sighed. "You were so loving to the point that I thought fuck it, maybe I should give Silas an answer. Maybe I should be selfish."

"The best decision you ever made," Silas murmured into the crook of your neck, as his arms slyly coiled around your waist. "The best decision you made besides becoming my friend that day."

"You owe Silvia for that. She gave me the final push."

"Did she?"

"Yes, so maybe you should be friends with her. You'll be surprised to see how well you two can actually get along. If it doesn't work out, sure. But you won't know until you try."

"Maybe," Silas said, his tone a touch reluctant. "I'll see what happens."

You thought to yourself that Silas had no plans on becoming friends with Silvia. Which was a shame, but nothing could be done with that. Silvia had a fair share of friends, so it wasn't like she was lonely — but you knew how terrifying it could be for her when the future Emperor didn't like her.

"You've done a complete one-eighty," you commented, "If little-you saw how mushy you were, he would've annihilated you."

"Little-me was very violent," Silas said innocently, "I was immature then."

"You're still very violent, mind you," you smiled, before you reached out to tweak his nose — "you're violent in bed too."

Unlike what you had expected, Silas wasn't the kind of person who would be all gentle, sweet, and loving in bed, during your first time with him. He was the kind that would give in to the dark side (rather funny phrase, you thought), and he was the kind that would display concerning amounts of obsession and hunger. The way his eyes had looked —

...Huh. You had rather liked it. You couldn't even shame Silas — you were the same kind of person.

"I enjoyed it immensely, for one. I thought I was going to go crazy."

"Don't worry," you hummed, "I can say the same."

Silas sighed, sounding extremely pleased. "The person of my dreams is in my arms after a shared night together. The Gods are looking well upon me. They have blessed me."

You laughed. "You're always so dramatic."

"Speaking the truth. What? Am I not your dream person?"

"Hey —"

"I remember you saying that your ideal type was someone with long hair," Silas looked pointedly at you, "and someone who got jealous easily. Someone who had gem like eyes. It all led to me."

"Of course it did," you said, your tone obviously sarcastic, "you couldn't have been more subtle, Silas. Now get up — just because the two of us happened to sleep together, it does not excuse being lazy."

But you were grinning a little too much.

"You're not getting up," Silas said, "so why should I?"

Now that you thought of it, you really didn't want to get up.

"Fine," you relented, "I think for once, we can let the others do our job."

"Perfect," Silas whispered.

"Get that smug grin off your face."

"Can't."

"Ugh," you shoved him off, and yet a playful smile was on your face, "you're intruding into my space."

"Funny you say that now, considering how naked bodies —"

"You're insufferable now," you muttered under your breath.

"I won," Silas said, "I'm the victor. And victors are allowed to be arrogant and prideful."

"You'll be winning a slap from me if you keep this behavior up. Reminder that you're the future Emperor. Please don't let whatever antics you do escalate in the meeting room. I don't think anyone wants to see you shoving your tongue down my throat."

"Exhibitionism," Silas marveled, "I didn't know you were like that, Y/n."

"Stop twisting my words."

"That's what you said, though?" He looked at you with the innocence of a child, and you felt the sudden urge to kiss him. Silas was cute. Handsome, too. But also cute.

...Wow, were you really that enamored with him? Were you the kind to become an utter fool when you became someone's lover?

The ends of your lips twitched and you found a beam breaking through your face. So much for trying to school your expressions.

"See?" Silas hummed, "you can't even be mad at me properly."

"Uh-huh," you agreed shamelessly, "the same can't be said about you."

Silas frowned."What do you mean?"

"Hm," you pretended to be in deep thought, "I do recall a certain someone stabbing himself because I mentioned leaving. And if I properly jog my memory, I do remember a particular someone who suddenly got hurt just because I was talking to the gardener. What about someone who said they wished that they had never met me —"

"I was a teenager," Silas quickly interrupted.

"I wasn't like that when I was a teenager," you said, amused. "It's just you."

It was good that you two could joke about such topics now. You still remembered the influx of emotions you had felt on that day, when you had been conflicted and wretched — and now all of those had dissipated like they hadn't existed in the first place. Then, you had made a gamble to leave Silas, hoping that it would pay off.

And it did. Time had healed all of the wounds. You wished you could have reached out to your younger self — you wished that you could've given him a hug.

If only he knew that in the future, your life would be wonderful.

Silas laughed. You remembered your younger self, over the moon when he had laughed for the first time. Silas had been so cold, so wary, so ruthless initially. And now, when you looked at him, all you could see was the sun.

Such wondrous days would persist.

You would make sure of that.

—

Winter soon came about in the palace. The servants got especially busy. Since it would be hard for crops to survive in such cold weather, there was a lot of rationing that had to be done. Thankfully, such things had already been planned way beforehand, and so it made it less stressful.

It was strange to think of how you hadn't experienced many winters here. You didn't like winter. You were never good with cold things — you were the kind who preferred their food so steaming hot that Silas remarked it could burn someone's tongue off — you were the kind who took long, scorching showers that could peel someone's skin off.

Winter was brittle and freezing. Even when you dressed in heavy clothes, your teeth never failed to chatter. There were fireplaces around the place with merry, crackling fire as well as temperature regulating mana devices situated at regular intervals, but you maintained your stance on winter being the worst season.

Silas begged to differ. He liked cold more than hot. He was the opposite of you: he liked how snow looked. Often, he would drag you out to witness the snow falling down into a mass of white. He didn't seem to mind the deathly cold days, either: he let snowflakes land on the fabric of his clothes: he let them cling onto him, before it would slowly melt away.

You didn't know why he liked it so much. When you thought of winter, you thought of your bones rattling, you thought of your frigid fingers turning red and having frostbite.

Today's weather was so cold that you could see your breaths puffing out in the air. It was night, so it was dark out. Silas pointed to the bright twinkling stars strewn across the canvas of the sky. The snow was crispy and you shivered, throwing him a weary glance.

Silas wasn't wearing any outer wear. Not a coat, not even gloves.

"I've told you countless times before," you said, exasperated, "it's cold. Wear a coat outside, Silas."

Silas seemed to have an ungodly amount of cold resistance.

"Why bother, when you'll help me?" Silas said wryly.

And...he had a point, again. You placed a coat on his shoulders, and he took the opportunity to drag you in his embrace. Your shoulders brushed against each other, before you scrutinised his face.

Hm. He looked fine, surprisingly. Not a single imminent illness in sight. Silas looked perfectly healthy, which was unfair, since you were dying.

"Do you like pain?" You complained, "it's so awfully freezing here. Kate looked at me like I was mad when I told her I was going out to the gardens."

Silas had the audacity to smile guiltlessly at you. "It's gorgeous here."

Even worse — Silas pressed a firm kiss on your forehead. He knew your weaknesses: him. His lips were cold against your equally cold skin, and yet it still sent a creep of warmth sliding down your spine.

"It's quiet," you affirmed, looking around. "Not a single person in sight. No one's bad enough to go out in such disastrous weather."

"You can stick to me if you're cold."

"That's already what I'm doing," you pointed out. You were huddled up with Silas, and his coat was draped over you, too. His supple, strong hands hugged you tighter, and you were glad for the body warmth. Silas pulled the hood of the coat over your burning ears.

"I'll blame you if I get sick," you said.

"You won't get sick. Your immune system is disgustingly strong."

"Yeah, what with all the training I went through...but still, I'm not invincible." you trailed off, smiling. "This is exactly where we sat, right? When we were kids."

"I bet the lake is frozen now," Silas murmured. "Dare I suggest we take a dip in it?"

"It's frozen," you looked incredulously at Silas.

"Then we break and melt it."

"You can do that. I'm not doing that," you said, "that's madness. Think before you speak. I feel like you've become obscenely reckless."

You were already going to have a runny nose. You could feel it. And yet when you looked at Silas with his boyish charm, so obviously elated by the snow — you couldn't open your mouth to deny him of this moment. He looked like a child who just got offered a piece of his favorite candy.

You were glad that Silas could let down those walls of his in front of you. With you, he was so playful, so sweet, so human (and snarky, at times, but from young, he had always been snarky) — you delighted in that.

Still, even when you didn't voice it out loud, Silas saw everything. He tugged on your hand.

"We should go back in."

"We can stay here a little longer." You told him.

How funny — Silas was insisting that you two returned to his room even when he was the one who wanted to stay; and you were saying that you wanted to stay even though you really wanted to leave.

You and Silas stared at each other for a moment before dissolving into laughter.

"Stubborn," you teased him, "okay, alright. Let's go in. My toes are about to fall off."

"I could have just used mana on you. Or you could have used it for yourself." Silas sighed.

You didn't like using mana for purposes like this. You didn't want to become overly reliant on mana: you thought that it took away actual human experiences. Winter was meant to be cold. It wasn't meant to be enjoyed warm and fuzzy-like. Similar to summer: it wasn't meant to be cold. It was meant to be hot, stifling, and warm. Not to say that there was any issue with using it, but you didn't like it personally. You wanted to live life the way it was mean to be lived.

You struck up another conversation topic. "Do you know what some people do?"

"No, I don't," Silas said, "because you haven't told me. Why would I know something if you haven't told me anything?"

That earned him a jab to his ribs.

"Anyway," you smiled, with a touch of innocence like you didn't just viciously nudge him, "I've heard of people who pack snow into buckets. Then they drizzle syrup into it and eat it."

Silas wrinkled his nose. "Sounds unsanitary."

"Well, yeah, the ice isn't exactly clean," you shrugged, "I was just sharing a thought. We can have proper iced dessert later."

"I feel like we would have done that as kids," Silas said thoughtfully, "I would have been skeptical, but you would have insisted on it all the same."

"Yeah," you said smugly, "because you can't resist me!"

"I can't." Silas admitted, "and now that I think about it, even from the start, I went along with your whims. What idiotic things did we do again?"

"We made a salad out of the stray berries and flowers we found in the gardens and it was all poisonous," you giggled.

"In hindsight, you knew it was poisonous," Silas pointed out, "when I met you, you already knew what herbs that could be used for medicine and what herbs that were poisonous."

"I just wanted to make fun of you," you said shamelessly.

"And then you tried to feed it to me, Y/n."

"Guilty as charged," you said. "Nothing wrong with that."

As you tried to retort, Silas ushered you into the palace. You gave a big sigh of relief as you felt the inviting heat from the fire nearby caress your cheek.

Raye popped up and grinned at you, after bowing to Silas. "I made some hot chocolate. Would you...?"

Silas's brow creased, but before he could say anything, you quickly replied, "it would be a pleasure."

And in a blink of an eye, before Silas could do anything, there were two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the table. One mug read to the best mother in the world — Silvia had probably gifted that to Raye. The other mug was obviously the cutlery reserved for royalty: for Silas.

"Apologies," Raye said sheepishly to you, "majority of the mugs were used since everyone had been making hot beverages. I had this one, so you might as well use it."

"Silvia made it," you squinted at it. She had a talent for arts and craft: her delicate fingers could carve, sew, and thread very well. But Silvia had a passion for reading and writing instead, and she had long stopped doing such crafts.

"Ah, yes," Raye smiled. "I couldn't bear to use it. It was so lovely."

"But now I'm using it —"

"Besides," Raye cut you off, "I think she would be the most delighted for you to be the first one to use it."

"Oh," you faltered, glancing at Silas, "yeah, maybe..."

Did the palace know of you and Silas? You two weren't very discreet. And even before you two officially became lovers, it was fair to say that you two already acted like lovers, minus the lip-kisses and that other thing that had now become common.

If Raye was trying to push her daughter to you despite knowing that, then it would be rather awkward to both parties.

Raye must have caught your unease, as she quickly added: "as friends, of course."

"...Right," you nodded.

Raye quickly retreated and you and Silas were left alone in the kitchen. Normally, it would be unheard of for royalty to even step foot into the kitchen — but it seemed that unknowingly, you had dragged him in.

Your father would have been furious if you saw the way you were treating Silas. He would have been furious if he saw you and Silas sitting together in the palace's kitchen, drinking hot chocolate in front of a large fireplace.

But he wasn't here.

"Sorry," you murmured. "I didn't consider you when I hastily brought you here..."

You felt a hand slowly brush at your hair, and your own (e/c) coloured eyes flickered to purple ones.

"That lady," Silas said, "I recognise her. She was the one who introduced Silvia to us. She is her mother."

"Yes," you confirmed, hesitating.

Silas stared at the hot chocolate. "I didn't even know the servants dared to speak to me."

"They've warmed up to you, I suppose," you took a tiny sip of the hot chocolate, sighing with relief as you felt the burning goodness go down your throat — "but they have a healthy amount of fear and respect for you."

"It's funny," Silas said. "Just a few years ago, they didn't even want to look at me. Do you remember the rumors about me, when I was a child?"

You did. And to a certain degree, the rumours had been accurate, and yet so painfully unfair. They faulted Silas for wielding the sword, for killing — and yet they conveniently forgot that it had been self defense. It hadn't been Silas's choice to make the first kill. And he had been a child too, so painfully lonely with no one to trust.

"...Are you my friend?"

That was what six year old Silas had asked eight year old you. The memories all flashed in your head, and you chewed on your lip.

"The rumours were all unnecessarily vicious and cruel." You said quietly.

"And they were true, too. I think I would have much preferred if they were cruel to me as an adult, and sweet to me as a child. I don't get it," Silas said, "I don't get why they would suddenly all change. It's true that I did put on a whole goody two shoes act when you were away, but I just..."

Silas was spilling his heart now. He knew he could, because his heart was safe with you.

"I thought everyone's coldness didn't bother me. But now that I think about it, maybe it did, a little bit. I was a child, and I didn't understand why people hated me, or why people loathed me. I didn't understand why my parents didn't want to have anything to do with me. I didn't understand...well, until you came to me. You have no idea the life you saved, Y/n, when you appeared in front of my eyes."

"You saved my life, too," you told him softly.

"But I —" Silas swallowed, "if the people in the palace can afford to warm up to me now, I don't see why they couldn't have been kinder to me even before my first kill. Even when I was five — a mere child who had not yet spilled any blood — they still shunned me. And yet now, as I'm obviously a murderer: as I'm obviously someone who has blood on their hands — they choose to warm up to me."

Silas had a point. You could feel his decade of anger pouring out of his body as he spoke. There, you thought, Silas has finally verbalized his anger. He had finally placed it into words.

Verbalizing something, you thought, was very essential. It was like a remedy, a herb. It was like finding out a cure to a sickness you didn't even know you had. It was like finding a purpose for your existence; like finding an answer to all the hate from eons ago.

"Well," you said quietly. "Your love for me has made you seem very human in front of them. Love is a universal knowledge amongst all living beings — the moment you unwaveringly and beautifully displayed love to me, they must have looked at you and thought, this man is human. He's someone that...thinks like us. Someone who has the same emotions and thoughts as us. Though," you smiled, "your love is also dangerous. Obsessive, wild, and unfiltered. But that will always make you intrinsic to me."

"I think it's wonderful," Silas said slowly, as he stared at you, "that we are now lovers. Do you know how I felt in the past few months, knowing I couldn't kiss you even when you strung together such beautiful words?"

You laughed. "Go ahead."

Silas could taste the hot chocolate on your lips as you two kissed. Kisses with Silas felt magical and warm. You could not define it in words. It was strong, devouring, and yet also chaste and tender enough for you to feel both the desire and tenderness he had for you. And when you two parted, Silas's eyes would always be infinitely soft and warm.

"I love you," Silas breathed out, "I love you so dearly, Y/n. You truly have no idea. No idea at all."

You understood what Silas was conveying, because you felt the same. Your love for him was so great that it felt like it was constantly spilling from the cracks of your soul: it was exuding out, and everyone could see it. It wasn't that you were without restraint: it was just too bountiful; too massive, and too great.

You two were placed onto earth solely for each other. Together, you were puzzle pieces becoming whole, you were the sun to his moon; the bandages to his wounds. You always thought that you were incredibly blessed to have met him in your life, to become his butler. It was lovely to think that this was your purpose. That you had always been destined to serve Silas — it was your birthright.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You better start drinking the hot chocolate. It'll go cold, unless you prefer your hot chocolate cold," you thought with a shiver, "that's awful to think about."

Silas obliged and took a sip, and you noted with warmth blooming in your chest that his hair was slightly disheveled from the kiss.

I was responsible for that, you thought smugly.

Your limbs were entirely warmed up from the kiss. You giggled to yourself then: you were so happy.

You were so, so, so terrifically happy.

You wanted this joy to remain forever. You were confident that it would. You controlled your own happiness. You were determined not to let it slip away.

Silas looked at you inquiringly, wondering what had made you grin so suddenly, but you didn't tell him.

You thought that if you kept it to yourself, it would make your wish come true. It was akin to someone wishing on their birthday and keeping their wish private.

It wasn't your birthday, and you were wishing over hot chocolate and not cake, but still, you closed your eyes and prayed fervently for this moment to stretch forward, and for this joy to remain.

—

"Congratulations," Silvia said sheepishly, "on the relationship between you and His Highness."

You blinked.

So word really gets out, you thought.

"It's all thanks to you," you said truthfully, "you gave me the final push."

"It was only fair that I did so," Silvia smiled, "I could see how antsy His Highness was becoming."

"He was like a child throwing temper tantrums," you said with fond exasperation, "whenever he felt particularly impatient, he would make his affections even more public. I can't imagine what the officials felt, having to endure his constant antics."

Silvia chuckled. "I think they would much rather him be sappy with you than him be a tyrant. And besides, this atmosphere is much better than the previous one."

"Previous one?"

"The old atmosphere was like ice. His Majesty and your father didn't look like they liked each other one bit. It was either hostility, or tension so thick that you had to use a knife to cut through it."

Up to now, you still didn't know the kind of person that your father was. You had seen and heard so many varying things about him. When you were young, you had witnessed and felt firsthand the coldness he had treated you with. He had pushed you far beyond your limits and he had been angry when you played and didn't study. You also remembered the brief period of time in which he had been especially lenient with you, when he had patted you on the head and praised you whilst your mother spiralled.

Then the next time you had spoken to him, it had been when he was divorcing your mother. You had been angry at him then: you had yelled at him, raised your voice, and you had demanded answers to questions you had hoarded.

You were disappointed in him. People had said that he had doted on him when you were young, that he had clearly loved you — and up to now, you didn't know why his attitude had changed.

Some people were just not as lucky as others. You and Silas were one of the unluckier ones — you and him would never know the feeling of being loved by someone who was supposed to love you. A child was entitled to their parents' love. At least you had your mother, but Silas truly didn't have anyone. You wondered if sometimes, you were haunted by the prospect of having a loving family. You wondered too, if Silas would have been vastly different if his father and mother showered him in love.

Unfortunately, you would never get these answers. But what you knew was that you and Silas had each other, and that was perfect.

"I wonder how he's doing," you murmured. "You must really know all the gossip in the palace, Silvia."

She flushed. "My friends know everything."

Well, that made sense. Silvia had tons of friends, after all. You were glad for her. You still remembered what a shy and meek girl she had been, desperate for friends to sooth her loneliness. Silvia had grown as a person. She was no longer the little girl she was: she was mature, talented, and cordial. She had changed, and you told yourself that you had changed, too.

You were proud of her.

"Were Silas and I that obvious, by the way?" You asked, "we don't exactly...kiss in public. Kisses on the cheek, yes, but we've already been doing that before we became an official couple."

Silvia's cheeks turned scarlet at that.

"I saw," Silvia's cheeks pinkened. "I was trying to find you, and unknowingly, I stumbled upon you and His Highness kissing..."

Oh.

"Sorry," you murmured. How mortifying.

"Oh, no," she waved it off, "I was glad for you," she swallowed. "Truly."

Silvia tried to mean it. She did, in a way. She liked you best when you were the same as those years back: all cheeks red from your happiness, your exuberance evident in your expressions. She liked you best when you were all bubbly and cheerful.

Silvia never outrightly confessed. Perhaps one day she would, but only for closure. Maybe she would finally ease her feelings by hearing the plain rejection from you, and that would enable her to move on, to wait patiently for someone else to stir her heart. She knew you knew, but she needed to hear the rejection directly from your lips.

"Well," you dipped your head, "I'll have to find Silas soon. You could join us for tea soon."

"I don't think His Highness would like that very much," Silvia answered, doubtful.

"Maybe not," you said honestly. "But still, it would be like relieving the old times."

You thought of the three of you together in one pile, laughing and chattering as you shared sweets that Silvia baked. At the end of the day, you still thought of those days fondly.

"Oh, well. I'll take you up on that offer sometime," Silvia waved. "See you later, Y/n."

You smiled. "See you, Silvia."

And in the midst of all this sweet moments, John's letter returned.

—

this fic updates every monday now as i write for to be whole (new mha fic, go check it out if u haven't) and veritas (upcoming fic, in my bio) - allegiance has much lengthier chapters so it takes longer to write, and i would like to prewrite some chapters for those other two fics

i feel like i say this all the time but things happen very very soon!!! (for real!!!) anyway hope everyone liked it :) do add to your library so you don't miss out on updates and do vote on this chapter!!!

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