"No —" you argued, "it's supposed to be seeds. Elias is an actual bird."

Silas and you were bickering over what kind of treat Elias liked best. You claimed that the bird liked sunflower seeds, as you had seen Elias pecking at them during the few times you had bought them — but Silas begged to differ, saying that Elias didn't need food, for he wasn't a being, but merely a substance.

How mean.

"And besides," you continued heatedly, "Elias is made up of your mana! Don't you have any affection for him?"

Affection? That was a pretty strong word, considering Silas had only created it eleven days ago. And he definitely wouldn't say he had affections for you, whom he had only met about two weeks ago. The days had passed by swiftly and soon it had been half a month since you had started to slip into the palace gardens. You two already had a secret hiding spot, or so you deemed it.

Elias gave a high pitched noise as he stamped his feet on Silas's shoulders, almost as if he was protesting against him. Elias had taken a quick liking to you, sometimes perching on your shoulder, and he liked to bully and tease Silas with his actions. You thought it was rather funny as Silas, after all, had been the one to create it.

"Whatever." Silas shrugged. He stared at his fingers — he had made sure to clean them when you came over, but still, he could remember the smudges of blood layered in between the layers of his skin. "I don't care."

Unbeknownst to you, Silas continued his little actions of killing. How could he not? To stop would be suicide, as there were just so many assassins after him, ready to kill the future heir of the Empire before he got too strong. And each time, Silas's view of humans would warp and become even worse — he no longer viewed them as humans, but as lumps of flesh. His palm felt heavier each time he murdered, and Silas would scrub at his hands even more viciously and violently when he tried to wash the blood off his hands.

Their lives pressed down on Silas's shoulders, but the truth was, he didn't want to die. And to survive was to exterminate.

Silas had nightmares, at times, — or perhaps simply just dreams — that one day, you would draw a dagger and plunge it into his stomach. Silas could not trust you. Not yet, even if you posed as an innocent and sweet child.

You pouted as you scratched Elias's beak. "Don't say that in front of Elias. He'll get hurt."

"He can't get hurt," Silas said curtly. "He's not real."

Silas, as you got to know him, could be cutting at times. The smile Silas donned became lesser and lesser, and when he did smile, it was definitely not as radiant as the one he had first shown you.

Most kids would have been devastated, but not you. In fact, you took this as a sign that Silas was able to put down his pretenses in front of you.

The box of empty fruits lay at the side. The sun was streaming in between the gaps of the bushes then, and the wind kissed your pink cheeks, ruffling your hair. Your feet dangled off the bench as you stared at the sky, trying to find as many heart-shaped clouds as you could.

There were none, unfortunately. But there was one in the shape of cookies.

"Look," you said in awe, "those look like my mother's cookies."

"You're always hungry," Silas said with amusement.

"You say you're not, but you end up eating half of my baked goods!" You retorted, flushing. "Hmph."

"You act more like a child than I do."

"Because I don't like adults!" You told him. "They're too serious, and they're too busy. When I grow up, I hope I don't become like them. Daddy's always angry and unhappy."

Silas thought about his father — the Emperor. "I don't see my parents a lot."

"You don't?" You felt a rush of pity. You would rather have a father than have an absent one. "Oh —er, that's fine. You have me."

"I don't need you." I'm using you, Silas repeated in his mind. U-S-E. Three words.

"You don't think you need me, but you do," you said childishly, trying to act wise. "Just watch out! Soon you'll be vying for my attention."

"No."

"I'm eight," you said, affronted, "I'm a whole — er, 365 multiplied by two — days older than you."

"730," Silas murmured. "Even I can do it."

"Not everyone is a genius like you, Silas," you frowned. "Remember: you still can't fold a paper napkin, can you?"

"I don't get why you need such useless skills."

"It's not useless! It'll be beneficial to me in the future when I serve someone."

"Why would you want to serve someone? Why not aim to be at the very top?" Silas questioned, genuinely perplexed — "I'm training to be the top. To be the very best. That is my position and my legacy."

Legacy. You would not have known that word if not for your father's continuous repeating of it. At times, you felt relieved — as having a legacy meant you would not have to think too much about your future — but other times, you saw your cousins shrieking and giggling as they hung from trees and waded in the cool waters of ponds. They looked so carefree that you always longed to join them, but your father would pull you to the side to lecture you once more.

Your mother said you once liked to draw. You ran your fingers along the spines of old sketchbooks owned by your mother and admired the drawings — all artfully crafted, beautifully sketched, and just so splendid you adored them — and then you would have to hide them when you heard your father's footsteps approaching, for fear that he would toss them into the fire.

There was so much beauty in them, so much life. You could be anything and everything in your artwork. And imagination did not limit you, like your father said, but gave you wings.

Your mother had taught you the story of Icarus before. The boy who had wax wings, who had floated too close to the sun, who had his wings melted off. Would that be you? Would there ever be a day where you would dare to approach your forbidden dreams and die as a result?

Such thinking was morbid, but again, you thought too much. The space in your mind drifted off to worldly places and whimsical things, but it turned back to your duty. Your loyalty.

"What are you supposed to be?" You asked Silas curiously. Come to think of it, you had never pried.

"Emperor," Silas said simply. "You're the first not to address me by my title."

You widened your eyes, stunned. Then you burst into peals of laughter. "Emperor!" You repeated, amazed, "...are you kidding?"

Silas frowned. Now he had to decide carefully: did he want you to know his title? Part of him wanted to tell you, for that would earn your respect and support — and that would allow you to be even more useful in a sense you would be willing to do whatever he said — but part of Silas also didn't want that, for you would become just like any other person. You would treat him strangely, and you would perhaps...even try to kill him.

You met him on different terms, and that meant you didn't carry the same revolting air as everyone else. In fact, Silas couldn't make sense of you. He supposed that he would grow weary of you with time, and Silas was simply waiting for that to happen.

In the end, Silas decided to keep his mouth shut. "Yes," he said at last, "I was joking. I'm the heir to my father's title, that's all."

You let out a huge sigh of relief. "Phew. If you really were the crown prince, that would make things awkward."

See, Silas was the same. You were both entrusted into a position the moment you two were born. Thank God he wasn't the crown prince, or you would have to be forced to place him on a pedestal.

Silas was curious enough to ask. "Why?"

"Because," you twiddled your thumbs. You felt the familiar spike of anxiety rise in you as you thought back to your future, once beloved, but now terrifying — "the crown prince is my future master. In four years, when I'm twelve...I will begin my duties to serve him. It would make things awkward."

Silas blinked his eyes. Then he blinked again.

"You? Serve the Emperor?"

You were pleased at his surprise, and you could only assume that he was finally looking up to you. "Yup," you said proudly, "I'll be the future butler of the future Emperor! So don't act too cocky on my watch."

Now that would make sense. In fact, it was embarrassing for Silas not to have realized it sooner. From the stupid little things you knew that seemed completely unnecessary, to the fact that your father served his father — so being a butler was a generational thing, huh?

You would serve him in the future.

You just didn't know it yet.

Hah. How amusing. To think that you were just the perfect person to be fully used.

Silas started to laugh softly, a rare smile appearing on his lips. You mistook it for one of sincere amazement, and barreled on: "I'll be learning a bunch of cool things in the future. I'll see if I can teach you too. Well, if father would permit me too."

You lapsed between Daddy and Father too often. The former was starting to feel odd on your lips.

"Sure," Silas said sweetly, his voice silky and suddenly unbothered, "I would love to know everything."

You frowned. "Why are you suddenly so — kind?"

Maybe it was because Silas had been a lonely child all his life, but something satisfied him deeply about the fact that you would be obliged to serve him. To be by his side, supporting him despite the atrocities he would commit.

"Oh, no," Silas said cheerily, "just learnt something interesting."

You wrinkled your nose. "Don't be too different. You're acting weird."

"I won't." Silas promised, voice filled with mirth. "I told you — I'm just intrigued, that's all."

"Okay..." you weren't too convinced. Suddenly, the grumpy Silas had turned into a person that was showing genuine interest in you. Maybe he was feeling enlightened by you. Hah! If that was true, it was about time Silas started paying you, the older person, more respect. "Anyway, I don't really care about it. It's in the future."

"But it's still in the future," Silas pressed on. "You have to worry about it."

It was why Silas had to stay on constant alert. He would have no future if he were to be killed by some pesky assassin after his life.

"I mean, yeah," you shrugged. "You have to worry a little about the future — cause it's inevitable. But my mom always tells him that yesterday was history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today's a gift, which is why it's called the present — that famous saying. Granted, it's hard to follow those words at times because anxiety can be really bad — but...it helps," you smiled. "I get to stay happy when I focus on the present. When I focus on the now."

"...the present," Silas repeated tonelessly.

"Yup! Like — no one's gonna kill you now, Silas. They can't even find us."

They could, Silas thought. They very well could. You were too naive and too unexposed to the dangers of the world. Yet there was something refreshing about being around someone so unguarded.

Silas relaxed slightly, allowing his muscles to rest.

"I'll try," the words slipped out of his mouth. Relax, his body yelled at him. Don't, his mind screamed at him. You'll die if you do now.

"I like talking with my mom," you said wistfully, "she makes me feel like I'm a child. A wise child. My father keeps screaming at me to grow up, but where's the fun in that? I want to savor my childhood for as long as I can. I want to run around the fields and not worry about being too childish. I want to draw as many stupid drawings as I can without seeming distracted. My mom says this period are the golden years of my life — my happy years. And I must cherish every bit."

You smiled giddily at Silas then, exposing some of your baby teeth that had not yet turned to adult teeth. Adolescence was a precious thing. When you grew up, everything you did would be examined and rebuked. Being a child meant you would have excuses in your life.

"Like now!" You giggled, "when I think back to my childhood — when I think back to now — I shall always remember you and Elias..." you trailed off dreamily, "it feels like time is passing really slowly, and it feels like the years will never finish and I shall take eternity to grow up — but..."

You learnt another word from the dusty books in your house before, too. Fleeting. Everything would disappear, and it was up to one to treasure them.

Children cradled special moments as they knew that it was hard to get permission from parents to have fun with their friends. Because it was rare. Because it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. But adults cradled them because it would be hard to ever replicate the feeling of genuine happiness again. With more knowledge earned, a person was bound to become more jaded, more depressed.

"I'm the opposite," Silas told you. "I want to grow up."

I want power.

"I bet we would still be friends," you smiled. "Like those friendships you see in the books. The ones that stay forever and ever. After all, you're my first friend. It'll be weird if we don't become friends, right?"

Elias gave an indignant chirp at being left out, and you laughed. "And you too, Elias. Of course you'll still be my friend."

"Friend," Silas murmured. "Why would you want that?"

He had been the one to ask you to be his friend, and yet Silas was still struggling to understand that notion. It felt appropriate at the time. It felt like the best thing to say to lure you in.

You continued on. "In fact, I want you to remember me. To remember I existed. Wouldn't that be nice? I don't know — in the long run, you'll probably be a-lot older, and you might forget some things that happened in your early childhood. I forgot a lot of things, actually. But it'll be nice if we still think of each other sometimes."

You were oblivious to the fact that you would remain tied to him even when you grew up. He would be your master, and you would be his servant. You would serve him.

No matter what, it would be impossible for you two to forget each other.

No one stayed the same age, Silas knew. Only the dead stayed young forever.

You spoke of such topics that other kids didn't. Maybe it was because you were raised like that. But even so, you seemed to dislike the idea of being a butler — his butler — immensely.

"You seem like you aren't looking forward to being a butler." Silas said all of a sudden. "Why?"

You stroked Elias's feathers. "Everyone says I'm kind. And maybe it's true, for I do like helping others. But being a butler isn't about being kind. If my master is my friend — then yes, maybe I'll find some pleasure in helping him — but I've seen the way my dad complains about serving the Emperor. He's so intensely loyal to His Majesty, and yet that loyalty isn't borne from genuine happiness, but out of necessity. And there is nothing more terrifying than a suffocating job. I want —" you paused. "I want to be friends with my master. I want to serve him willingly."

"Serve him willingly...so you would serve him if he was your friend," Silas decided.

"Yeah," you nodded your head. "I don't see why not. At least then I would be able to talk with the Crown Prince like he's my friend. I would be able to like him. But of course — I wouldn't forget you! It doesn't really matter what the future holds. It doesn't impact us. I like you, anyway. For now, for then, hopefully forever. My life is already better knowing you."

If you didn't meet Silas, the loneliness would have eviscerated you from inside and out. So even though you were helping Silas and taking him under your wing, he was helping you too, and you were immensely grateful for that.

My life is already better knowing you.

Silas was using you.

Silas was using you.

Silas was...

Huh.

Maybe Silas would be kind and pretend you were his friend.

—

hope you enjoyed! sorry — bear with me — the childhood arc is always the slowest and calmest (and hardest to write) haha <\3 am so excited for the timeskip agghh I've pre written so much' and also sorry if there are inconsistencies with Silas's character, I try to keep his character consistent but he's hard to write ughhh

(also, huge apologies if anything seems redundant/repetitive, I'm trying to enforce a certain theme and focus on one singular one but idk if I'm just repeating the same shit over and over again. sorry in advance lol.)

hope you liked it!

how was it?