It wasn't until the next day that your father finally scolded you for your bad conduct.

"I was going to introduce you to the Emperor," your father hissed, "the Emperor! And yet you decided to run away again. Where were you, Y/n, when I was trying to speak with him?"

You didn't know if it was a good idea to tell him. Did Silas ever mention that he didn't want anyone else to know of his activities in the garden? But either way, you suspected that your father would be less than happy to know that you had met someone in the palace. And especially now that your father was in a foul mood, you were convinced that he would forbid you from traveling to the palace. And that would mean that it would be impossible for you to meet Silas again.

"I got lost," you said feebly, trying to wriggle out from his vice-like grip, "I was trying to find you, Daddy!"

"Lost," your father repeated, indignant, "I told you to memorize the map and layout of the palace! When your future master wants you to relay a message, are you telling me you'll get lost?"

Your eyes burnt with unshed tears."There were a bunch of baby birds, and..."

A few days ago, you were meant to pore over the books detailing the interior layout of the palace and to study them well. But you had heard a broken chirp from afar — and after you ran to the outside, you had discovered a little nest that was dangerously close to edge and was at risk of falling. How could you possibly ignore that?

"You take after your mother." Your father said coldly. "Such traits are wonderful in a wife, but less than pleasant to be in a boy who is meant to be the emperor's future butler. Kindness hinders your duty."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "Will I — will I get to go to the palace today?"

Your father gave you a disgruntled look. "I told you yesterday that we would be visiting the palace again, to make up for your incompetence yesterday. Must you still ask?"

You cheered up a little. At least this meant you could see Silas again! In the satchel, your mother had packed apples and fruits to bring along for a snack. But you had sneak looked through the larder, and to your surprise, you had found a few cookies left in a jar. Surely Silas had a sweet tooth, right? All little kids — including you — liked desserts.

"You're dressed up and ready to go, right?" Your father asked you frostily, tugging you towards the direction of the carriage — "let's go. His Majesty will be displeased if I'm late."

A question popped in your mind. "Don't you have to stay in the palace? Why are you allowed to stay here?"

"Because I have a family," Your father said impatiently, "In normal circumstances, the butler would reside in the floor below the Emperor's. I gave you books to read, Y/n. Really, you're such a wilful child..."

Wilful...your mother certainly spoke of you in a different way. She called you apple-cheeked, for in the moments after you finished running along the undulating hills, your cheeks would redden and turn into the color of ripe fruit. And on separate occasions she called you honey-tongued, for from your lips, compliments would drip down readily and easily. In general, your relatives from her side of the family were bubbly, constantly calling you a ray of sunshine.

You've certainly inherited Sarah's disposition, they would say merrily. But on the other hand, on your dad's side of the family, they were more cutting, more cruel. Your grandfather had served the late Emperor, and he had hated his job — constantly calling the ruler a nutcase. You had heard that your grandfather had despised the shackles that the job had put on him — he could only marry ages later, and even worse, he married a woman he didn't love.

I'm scared, Mommy, you had told your mother once. What if the Emperor is less than pleasant? I don't want to serve someone evil...or mean....

Oh, darling, his mother would coo gently, this is when you help them. I'm sure such a person like you would be able to tame even the wildest of people.

Tame. What a strong word.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," you mumbled, tone small. You allowed yourself to be dragged along until he plopped you on the carriage seat, sitting opposite you with his arms crossed. His brows were knitted together — he was clearly displeased with the idea of being called to the palace during such a lovely summer day. The flowers were in full bloom, the sun was shining, and the sky was clear. You had heard that his initial plan was to go hunting with your uncles, but he had to abandon that idea when the Emperor summoned him. It seemed he didn't have a good relationship with the Emperor.

Your father didn't reply. He stared out of the window, and you clutched the fabric of your clothes, flushing with an uncomfortable redness.

You comforted yourself with the thought of Silas — your first friend.

—

"This is my son, Y/n." Your father said stiffly, bowing and keeping head low.

In front of you, you could sense an overwhelming aura radiating off from someone — the Emperor. Your father pushed your shoulder down, nearly toppling you over. But still, that motion allowed you to mimic the movement of a bow.

You didn't dare to peek up. Even though your father was mighty and powerful, here, he was helpless and meek in front of his master. At hime, though his swordsmanship was a marvel to look at and he easily overpowered many of your relatives — your father was still inferior to the master he served. And you wondered if that was why he was so bitter and sore all the time — your father did not like to be second place. He loathed it, in fact, and every inch of his body despised bowing towards another person.

The Emperor's voice was rich and firm as he commanded, "you may rise."

And so you did. Your father's appearance surprised you. He had completely changed his earlier anger into a behavior that was docile and obedient. He bowed once more towards the Emperor, gesturing to you.

"Your Majesty, this is my son."

You looked at the Emperor again. He looked somewhat similar to Silas — more like, Silas looked oddly familiar to him — but they did not share the same coloring. While Silas seemed more ethereal looking, with his purple eyes and his golden hair, the Emperor looked more ordinary, with plain brown hair and green eyes. His features, however, were objectively handsome.

"So this is the boy who will serve my son," the Emperor murmured, "...I heard you had problems training him?"

"He had one year tip the official training begins. I will make sure to groom him into a well behaved boy by then."

"That is imperative." The Emperor said solemnly, "my son is quite the troublesome child too. He is much too violent and even vicious — and unfortunately, he seems to have been blessed with an unsurmountable amount of power. You have heard the rumors surrounding the palace, have you not? In fact, you were the one who helped dispel the rumors."

"Yes I have, Your Majesty."

"The palace walls hold endless chatter. They speak of a monster who has slayed countless and countless of servants...of a monster who has painted the walls crimson. Yes , the talk has simmered down — all thanks to your diligent work, evidently — but in the end, the rumors are true. My son seems to have..." The Emperor's eyes landed on you. "...a huge behavioural problem. And I fear that it will spiral out of control when he grows up. Will your son be able to handle that?"

"Affirmative." Your father said confidently, "he will learn, Your Majesty."

The Emperor studied you a little longer, before he gave a little nod. "Good. Then, follow me. The meeting shall start soon."

Your father glanced at you like how one would glance at an insect. His face seemed to read: don't make any trouble. You nodded your head, watching as he trailed after the Emperor. At home, he was larger than life. But now in the presence of someone as high up as the Emperor, he seemed to become a shadow of himself. Bitterness had soaked his heart, and jealousy had corroded his heart.

Will this be my future fate? You wondered, will I be furious like my father and grandfather for having to stay so bound to someone, with no freedom? Will I be happy living like a dog?

You wished to be loyal like your mother was to your father. Loyalty borne out of affection, even though it seemed that the love between your parents had begun to wane. But still, you wanted to at least have the pleasure of being loyal to someone you genuinely liked.

Hm, weren't you forgetting something?

...Silas, you suddenly remembered, I wonder if he's waiting for me.

Abandoning your thoughts, you started to run towards the gardens, an eager smile on your face.

It was funny how your father had reprimanded you earlier for your inability to memorize the palace routes, but the path to the gardens was as clear as day in your mind.

—

Silas wasn't there.

You looked around for a golden mass of hair to tell you of his presence, but you found yourself surrounded by plants, with no little boy present. The body wasn't there anymore, and the flowers were no longer trampled. If it wasn't for the dead body that was still somewhat fresh in your mind, you would have thought that the events that had transpired the day before were a dream.

You knelt down, the wind blowing your hair in all sorts of directions. You could imagine your mother combing your hair with mock frustration, giving little sighs — ( "you played again, didn't you? It's good to be active, but you know your father. He doesn't like it when you shirk work for games. Really, that man. He's changed.") — you stood up, walked around the garden, and admired its beauty. There were a plethora of flowers scattered all around the grass, and their scents were sweet and welcoming. The air was crisp and fresh, and you felt bliss wash over your mind as you soaked in the sun.

Only until you heard a familiar voice call your name did you snap out of your reverie.

"So you really are here," Silas spoke, his voice amused and yet also relieved, "I didn't feel like killing anyone today. It would be a pity if I killed you."

You tilted your head, hardly absorbing his words. They rolled off your back, and instead, you giggled as you saw his appearance. It seemed that some twigs had gotten caught in his hair somehow.

"Silas!" You greeted enthusiastically, "I was waiting for you."

"Waiting?"

"Yup!" You popped the 'p,' eyes shining, "I got here not too long ago. This place is amazing!"

Is it? Silas wondered, my whole life, it has been nothing but a golden cage. It is peppered with luxury, and yet misery surpasses all joy. Even for a young child, Silas knew the meaning of the word fleeting more so than anyone else. Every moment was fleeting, rushed, and would dissipate forever: there was a short, brief period in Silas's life in which he tried desperately to hold on, but everything in his life seemed to rotate and change at intervals. His maids and servants always changed. The assassins that came to kill him was always different.

There was no constant in his life, and thus Silas didn't believe in promises. Perhaps he needed something...of someone — to anchor him.

"It's the palace." Silas's suspicion of you had not yet been rid off fully, but he still plastered a smile on his face. "I've been meaning to ask you this, but how do you have access to the Imperial Palace?"

"My dad works here," you offered him a simple answer, blinking your eyes. "He's the —er, butler of the Emperor.. I just met the Emperor just now."

Silas's head snapped towards you as his eyes narrowed. "You met the Emperor?"

"...Yes?" You scratched the back of your neck, "speaking of which, how do you have access to the palace? It's like you live here —"

"Did he say anything about his son?" Silas looked desperate as he interrupted your words, "about —"

His son?

Oh, right. The Emperor had said rather mean things about his son, hadn't he? Saying that he was vicious...saying that he constantly caused trouble...

When your father called you by such derogatory names, you would get upset. You imagined that the Emperor's son would be similarly upset to hear of his words. And rumours tended to spread fast, didn't they? You had just learned that from His Majesty and your own father.

"He didn't really say anything," you said haltingly. "Why?"

Silas studied you. He knew you were lying — his father loved nothing more than to hurl insults targeted towards his only son. But why was there a need to lie? You clearly didn't know his true identity. And there was no harm in you telling him the truth. So why had you chosen to lie?

...Could it be that you're simply genuinely kind?

You were such a strange, peculiar thing. First, you had popped out of nowhere, had bandaged him, even as Silas was dripping with blood and guts. Second, you had accepted his strange call for friendship. And now for reasons unknown, you were lying to him.

Normally Silas disliked lies, but this lie didn't feel unpleasant, really. If anything, it shielded him from the brutal truth he had to face: that his father hated him. It was pleasant not to hear his father's words for once.

Furthermore, your father was the butler. Silas had caught sight of the butler in the household numerous times — perhaps it was the generation gaps between the two of you, but your father was somber, cold, and purely professional. You, however, possessed a sunshine-like exterior — simply put, you were warm. When you had clasped his hand, all Silas could feel was the human heat of your fingers entangling with his own.

"I was curious." Silas said simply, eyes gleaming. "I'm just surprised that you had honored your promise."

...Honored? What big words. You mentally told yourself to do a little bit of reading when you got back home. A child who was younger than you having such exemplary vocabulary was embarrassing for you.

"My mom told me promises were important." You said honestly, before you turned to him. "Why? You didn't think I would come?"

Your heart squeezed for him again. How lonely, you kept thinking, how lonely he must be in such a scary place.

"...I don't know." Silas said cheerfully, "I wasn't thinking about it."

Your face fell. "Really? I was awfully excited."

Silas was confused. "You were excited to meet me?"

"You were my first friend, after all." You told him, before you hastily corrected: "you are my first friend. Are you lonely here? Don't worry!" You puffed out your chest, saying proudly, "I'm older than you. I'll protect you."

Silas blinked once, twice, before he tipped back his head and gave several laughs. Protect him! He thought, aghast and yet heavily bemused, yes, a typical six year old would need protecting, but here, people wanted protection from him. They avoided him like the plague.

His laughter seemed almost mocking, before it morphed into one of genuine mirth. You pouted, affronted by his actions.

"Don't laugh. I'm serious," you mumbled, "I'm being kind."

"Kind," Silas repeated, "you certainly are."

"Are there no other kids in the palace? You must have been dreadfully alone," you shuddered. "Same here. My dad doesn't allow me to meet other people."

Silas was curious. "Why not?"

"He says it interferes with my future duties."

"Duties? You're the heir in your family?"

"Yeah, I suppose," you shrugged. "My official training starts next year, too. So I have a year to relax...for now, I'm just visiting the palace, accompanying my father. I have a couple of months to meet up with you before I'll have to leave for a bit," you said, disappointed. "But don't worry! I'll make the most of it!"

"This is our second meeting, you know," Silas reminded you. "And you're planning way ahead."

"You're the one who asked me to be your friend!"

Well, because I thought you would say no, Silas thought, and also because I had already put you up on my target list to kill. But you're fun, so I'll keep you around a little longer.

"So?" Silas propped his chin with his palm, looking at you. "What do you want to play? We could always terrorize the —"

"No!" You cut in, horrified, "Silas!"

"What? They're horrible to me. So we can be equally horrible to them."

You bit the inside of your cheek. Yes, Silas had a point, but...

"I'm older than you," you sniffed, "so you're listening to me. I'll tell you what to do, and you listen to me, okay?"

I'll tell you what to do, and you listen to me. In normal circumstances, Silas would not have let that slide, but the way you said those words — he could tell that you were truly innocent and bore good intentions. So Silas ignored it, deciding to play along with you.

"Alright," he relented. "So what do you want to play?"

"Let's go look around the gardens!" You suggested, "maybe you explored it before, but it's so big — there could be new flowers planted."

Boring, Silas thought to himself.

But either way, he found himself being pulled by you.

—

yeah... speed running another fic...

I've noticed a pattern in my updates lol. the minute a couple gets together, I jump ship. but in those case, I'm literally starting from scratch without any established relationship so... it'll take a little longer. also, I keep forgetting how old they are lol

++ my first time writing a beige flag. Silas is a mix between Dion and Anton. Do what you want with this info

hope everyone enjoyed regardless; forgive me as I'm still easing into things. don't be a silent reader :)

how was it?