a/n; thank you for all the support so far!! don't be a silent reader and do vote and comment as that would motivate me tremendously :]

—

During your third year of separation with Silas, you turned eighteen.

"A drink? No thank you. I'm not a drinker," you smiled politely. "I dislike alcohol quite heavily, actually."

You were permitted to have your first drink now that you had technically turned into an adult, but still, the smell of booze sent unease coiling in your gut. It reminded you of too many things: the feverish, drunken words that your mother had said to you on that fateful day, and the smell that permeated your home when you were young.

Your cousins had claimed that turning into an adult was something to be celebrated, and thus, they had dragged you into the town's local winery. It was meant to be a festive occasion, but they had abandoned you for the company of women. You could see them at the corner of your eye, drinking merrily and making a fool of themselves.

You sighed. Some of the regulars had spotted a new face and were eager to talk to you, offering you drinks that you readily declined. You had only agreed to go out because you thought it would be a fitting change of pace.

You hadn't managed to dig anything up about the curse, and you were close to giving up. You made a mental note to interrogate your father about it, for you were convinced he knew something that you didn't.

"I got a real pretty daughter," one of the men told you, his words slurring. "You're a fine man. Could do good as her husband. You don't have a lover somewhere, do you?"

You didn't, but still, your mind flashed to Silas. "No," you said honestly, "I don't."

"Then—"

"—but I'm not interested. I'm much too young," you added swiftly. You tapped your fingers against the wooden table, hoping to send a hint to the man that you simply weren't interested in conversation, but annoyingly, he persisted.

"Much too young? You're eighteen."

"Exactly," you said, "that's too young to be thinking about marriage. My mind lies in my duties. I haven't even thought about dating yet."

"Duties? What's your job, mister?"

You decided it would be too much of a bother to tell him the truth. "Just a servant working somewhere."

"Ah, what a droll life," the man said piteously, "wouldn't a marriage spruce things up? I have friends whose daughters and sons are getting engaged."

"I'm not your friends' son," you shrugged your shoulders loosely, still managing to maintain an easy and relaxed smile. You didn't want them to dislike you, and thus, you were too much of a coward to be straight up rude to them. It was stupid how your people-pleasing actions had persisted over the years.

"Come take a look at my daughter," the man persisted. But you shook your head with a light laugh and pushed the photograph away from you gently, gesturing to the bartender to refill your glass. Thankfully, the men left you alone after that, seeing that you didn't care about them.

"A mocktail again?" John, the bartender, raised his eyebrow. "You're a new person here, aren't you? You're obviously of age, but why aren't you drinking? People who turn eighteen usually come here and go wild. They leave here heavily inebriated and drunk, and yet you're completely sober."

"I...don't like the taste," you offered after a while. "It's too bitter for me, unfortunately."

"So you've tasted alcohol before?"

"I have, second handedly, if that makes sense," you answered ruefully.

From the smells in my parents' house and my mother's behavior.

"You talk pretty refined." John blinked his eyes.

"Do I?" You asked lightly.

"Yeah, like you're from nobility or something. Your cousins —" John gestured to them, "they talk like me. So do the people who frequent here. But you're obviously not from around here — you speak too gracefully. You told the guy earlier that you had a job as a servant, right? So why aren't you at the job now?"

"I'm simply visiting home for a few years," you smiled, "I've been away from here for a while, so my mannerisms might seem different from the people who live here."

It's because I've spent the majority of my time with Silas, you thought, which is why I have the mannerisms of nobility. It was strange how your time in the palace directly affected you.

A brief moment of recognition flickered over John's features. "You're Sarah's son — Y/n. She's talked about you before."

You blinked.

"If she's talked to you, that must mean that my mother is a frequent visitor," you said dryly. "Was she lying when she told me that she kicked that drinking habit of hers?"

"Oh, goodness, no," John shook his head. "That was years back. Five? Four? Six? More than that? I can't remember. But she came in totally wasted, sobbing, saying that she said some things that she shouldn't have..." he hesitated. "Is that why you have an aversion to alcohol?"

You noticed that amidst all of this conversation, he had refilled your glass. You drank it gratefully, thankful to have something to fill in the silence.

"I suppose so," you answered at last. "You're quite close to my mother, I see."

"Ah, not as close as we were now that she's stopped visiting," John furrowed his eyebrows, "the most recent time she came was during her divorce," he frowned. "I'm sorry about that, Y/n."

"That happened ages ago."

"Scars don't close that easily," John said wisely. He wiped off some glasses with a towel and pushed them to the side. You watched silently as he poured beer into tall glasses, with the foam thick and heavy on the surface, and gave them to the men who had been pestering you. They took it with glee. Red had already matted their cheeks — it was clear that they were drunk.

The one who had tried to show you the picture of his daughter nudged you again. This time, you were a bit more irritated, and the smile faltered on your face.

He pressed the glass of beer against your hands and wiggled his eyebrows. You wrinkled your nose at the overpowering smell that you now loathed.

"Just one sip," he cajoled, his words slurred, "just one sip won't do any harm, young man."

Just one sip won't do any harm, young man. You thought back to your mother's words bitterly — you were a mistake, Y/n — and shook your head. You wondered if your mother had thought the same; if she had told herself just one more sip but that had spiraled into more.

"Come on, it's —"

"I said that I don't fucking want to," you snapped. "Can you hear yourself? Quit being drunk; it's disgusting."

You were louder than expected, and the hostility in your tone startled those around you. They shuffled away from you, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You hadn't wanted to be so rude or malicious, but you simply couldn't bear...

You wanted to blanch again at the smell of alcohol. Why were you still here? What had actually driven you to head to the winery? Had you been that incessantly bored without Silas that you had to resort to such drastic and stupid measures of keeping yourself entertained?

Come to think of it, in these three years without Silas, you had found yourself doing things that you normally wouldn't have done. Gone were your old habits that you did, like journaling or flower picking: you filled in the gaps of your boredom by mindlessly chatting with people whom you would never have associated with. There was once you nearly fell into a bad crowd, but common sense pulled you back.

You looked down at your own glass of non-alcoholic mocktail then at the glasses of rich beer that the men had at the side.

You closed your eyes briefly before you opened your eyes again.

You had a strong suspicion that if you started to drink alcohol now, you would be forever lost to it. You would become addicted to it, and it would have a vice-like grip on you. But your hatred for it overpowered whatever curiosity you had for the drink, so you were glad for that.

John whistled. "Your mother is as fiery as you with that temper."

"I don't want to be like her," you said tiredly.

"Really? With the way she talked about you, I thought you were a mama's boy or something."

"Maybe last time. But I don't want to be like her much," you told him, "and besides, I don't have a temper. They were just irritating me."

"Hm," John shrugged.

"You're awfully talkative, aren't you?" You asked him.

"You're Sarah's kid. I find that interesting," John said. "You don't look a bit like Ralph."

"I'm glad." Then after a beat, you added: "you seem to know all about my parents, huh."

"Well, I know a little," John smiled. "I used to work at the palace, before His Majesty fired me. Do you know what the reason was? Talking with Ralph," John laughed, like he was still in disbelief — "His Majesty is awfully obsessed with your father. Probably the cause of your parents' divorce."

You had long suspected that the Emperor and your father shared some sort of emblematic relationship. That conclusion hadn't been hard to arrive to — it came from your numerous theories as well as what Aster had said years ago, but to hear it fall from another's lips was still rather shocking.

"Ah," you said, "then I suppose you know who I am now, huh."

"Servant," John parroted the words you said earlier, "you said that you were a servant earlier. But after I recognised that you were Sarah's kid, I realized you are in fact, His Highness's butler. What are you doing at home, and not the palace?"

"I told you, I'm visiting home."

"Now that is very different from how I remember it to be. Last time, your father tried to leave His Majesty, and that didn't end well," John said in amusement. "His Highness let you go like that?"

"Well," you paused. "I suppose I kind of ran away with a small letter by the side. But Silas didn't seem to kick up a fuss, so I'm safe."

"Ran away! You got guts, kid. I can give you that. But the rumors at the palace seem pretty tame now, so I guess you're fine."

"Rumors?" You raised an eyebrow. Your mother and you had not conversed about the palace at all, because it held two forbidden topics: your father, and Silas.

"Yeah. Rumors," John confirmed. "I heard that prince of yours was quite a troublemaker last time, but now that you've left, he suddenly turned his behavior around and became all charming and charismatic."

"That's..." you trailed off. What did you feel about that news? The thing was, Silas had always been charismatic. With his conniving personality and his manipulation skills, he could charm the pants off anyone.

So did Silas truly change, or was this all a farce so that you would return?

"...wonderful," you finished off. It would be better to give Silas the benefit of the doubt. "How wonderful for him. He's behaving."

"Didn't he send you letters?" John asked, surprised. "I would have thought that you and His Highness..."

"He does," you said thoughtfully. "But he doesn't mention any of those things. And besides, Silas doesn't really write anything in his letters. He simply sends me items. Every time my birthday comes around, he sends me a gift as well as a little note."

"That's very kind of him."

"When you're close friends, I suppose it isn't exactly kindness," you joked, "more of obligation."

"What does he send?" John asked curiously.

"I haven't checked what I got from him this year," you laughed. "But it's always extravagant. Last year, he gave me a memory stone. In a small note, Silas told me to capture what I was doing in those six years to show him in the future. I hesitated for a little while because I don't exactly have the best memories with a memory stone, but I resorted to doing it anyway. I like it — it's refreshing."

"Ah, that's nice." John nodded his head. You didn't know why you were conversing so freely with him, but you supposed he had that kind of airy and light atmosphere that made it easy for you to talk with him. And besides, he probably carried answers that you wanted.

"He's sweet," you said wistfully. Or at least, he's terrific at pretending to be. But you knew Silas was genuine in his love for you, so you didn't worry about that.

"I've noticed," John said slowly, "you refer to him by his name."

"Is that odd?" You asked warily.

"Your parents —" he said, and you blinked your eyes, "or more like, your father — he didn't call the Emperor by his name. You and His Highness have a more relaxed way of talking as compared to them. I remember them having a fight before," he shuddered, "my god, it was vicious."

You winced. "That doesn't sound good."

"No, it wasn't," John sighed, "especially after your father went and married Sarah, the Emperor went ballistic."

"...Huh," was all that you could say.

"The Emperor and your father loved each other," John murmured, "I thought it was obvious that Ralph didn't exactly love Sarah, so I always wondered why they ended up marrying each other. It was clear from the start that Ralph didn't have romantic interest in Sarah."

"I can imagine."

There was a legend last time," John said thoughtfully, "of a curse or something. From the first ancestor."

You straightened your back. "Really?"

"Yeah," John paused for a bit to fix an order for another slurring, drunk customer, "but it was just a rumor."

"What was it about, though?"

"They said it originated from the first Emperor," John tilted his head, deep in thought, "and his butler. But then the butler went ahead and married someone else, and the Emperor, who was a God, got jealous —" John grinned. "Sounds like a whole play, if you ask me. But the events constantly repeat, so maybe it's not a coincidence."

"That..." you trailed off. "Huh. You're right. That doesn't sound real," you decided to humor John, but you tucked the information at the back of your mind. "Thanks for telling me, anyway."

"But you and His Highness are very different, aren't you," John squinted his eyes, "I mean, you're all casual and relaxed with him, and His Highness didn't do anything to you when you ran away. He respects you, Y/n. You possess his respect. You should be happy about that."

"Possessing something," you halted, "doesn't mean I deserve it, per se."

"You don't think you deserve his respect?"

You sighed. "I did abandon him, after all. It was a cruel but very necessary act to do. Silas — he only has me, John. From the very start, I've monopolized his company and time. And now I've left him alone in the palace, where he's thoroughly alone. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I were in his shoes."

"But he forgave you anyway," John pointed out. "At least, it seems like he has forgiven you. His Highness understands that you come from a place of concern."

"I hope so," you sighed. "It's good to know that he still cares for me."

"Of course he would," John clapped you on your back. "You don't have to worry about it. Your mother came here with her own host of problems last time, too. She was crying and sobbing. It was all the way back before you were born."

"Oh?" You blinked your eyes.

"She seemed awfully distraught at that time. She drank alot and got semi-drunk. She wasn't sober enough to really make sense, but she was sober enough to talk for a while," John chuckled. "But I felt sorry for her then. It was a few days after she got engaged to Ralph, actually. This happened about eight to nine months before you were born. But she came here, upset because she saw that Ralph clearly favored the Emperor more than her. And then she disappeared after that — I don't know where she went."

"But she was the one who accepted my father's false words of love even when she knew they weren't true," you said slowly. "They are both at fault."

"I could sense that your mother was terribly guilty, too, because she had practically stolen a man away from someone he truly loved —" John murmured, "—but what's done is done. That's old history. It's your time to shine now, boy," he smiled. "What happened with your parents is over. It's about you now. You'll do great things, I'm sure."

Your cheeks reddened and you laughed awkwardly. "I'm flattered by your high expectations."

"I'm serious, though. I'm sorry for what happened to you — your family is quite a mess, isn't it? But none of it was your fault, Y/n. In fact, it's quite splendid that you grew up to be such a wonderful man."

"Wonderful man," you echoed. "Thank you."

You reached into your pockets, prepared to pay the bill, but John stopped you and winked.

"It's on the house. This conversation was pretty pleasant. Happy birthday, kid."

—

Silas remembered that it was your eighteenth birthday.

For the past few years on your birthday, the prince would eat a slice of your favorite cake as well as send you a few gifts. This time round, he sent you a small note as well as a few priceless mana stones.

He was sixteen now, and now it had been one year since that conversation with Silvia. The two of them managed friendly nods when they saw each other, but there was the foregone conclusion that both Silas and Silvia were love rivals.

How bothersome, Silas thought with irritation, everyone is so annoying.

Having lived three years by himself now, Silas was eager to escape the palace and to simply find you. He had harbored this thought for ages, and had wondered what it would have been like if he simply just left and went to find you.

Silas was convinced that you were painfully lonely too, without him, so it wouldn't matter, right? Wouldn't you be glad to see him?

Silas sighed as he leaned his back on the tree — the one still in his room — and stared at the engravings.

[Your Initial] and S.

It gave him comfort.

—

PAST

Ralph wet his lips nervously as he stared at the engagement ring on his finger, now heavy and burdensome.

Engaged, he thought, he was now engaged.

Such a momentous occasion should have been welcomed with a bottle of champagne, or perhaps a celebratory meal — but strangely enough, all Ralph felt then was unease. His friends had urged him to quickly give Sarah a ring, and he had done so, purely out of obligation.

But now as it sat on his finger, all Ralph felt was sludgy dread.

Why had he accepted Sarah's confession? How had she allowed it? Why were they both — pretending to be something that they weren't? Sarah loved him. Ralph loved her, too, but not to the extent of...

He hadn't seen the Emperor for a few months. Casper had told Ralph in advance of his months-long journey to the South, and that he would be back late. And now today, Ralph would be seeing him for the first time in a long while.

What the hell would the Emperor say to this? Ralph thought desperately, why did I even propose to her? It had simply felt appropriate, at that moment.

Sarah had been happy. The ring had somehow reassured her into thinking that Ralph truly loved her — but Ralph begged to differ. He did not feel the happiness that a groom to be would feel, but instead all he felt was plain regret and anger.

Ralph heard the footsteps of the Emperor nearing and he had the instinct to twist the ring off — to chuck it into the trash. But instead, he stood there, unsure of what to do. Bile rose up in his throat and he swallowed, acutely aware of the news that he would soon have to deliver.

"Long time no see," Casper smiled slightly at him, looking relaxed, "how have you been?"

Ralph couldn't answer — the words were caught in his throat. His heart seemed to falter for a moment, as did his movements — and when he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out.

"Your Majesty," he said at last.

Casper frowned. He seemed especially gentle today, somehow, and that only made Ralph feel worse. Why was it that when Casper seemed to be especially tender and sweet, Ralph had to deliver such news to him?

"Are you alright?" Casper voiced out, walking forward to Ralph. Ralph found himself flinching, regretting that he hadn't taken the ring out from his finger. "You look ghastly pale."

I'm not, he thought, you're about to kill me. You're about to kill Sarah.

Faintly, he nodded his head. "I'm fine, Your Majesty. How was your trip?"

"Oh, boring as usual." Casper murmured. "It was a pity I couldn't bring you. They had quite a bit of the flowers that you like — the daffodils. I thought it was a shame that you couldn't view them in real time. They were quite marvelous, and I thought of you."

Ralph felt sick to his stomach, and Casper continued talking.

"I brought back quite a bit of souvenirs," Casper told him, "gifts for you, if you will. Would you want to take a look at them? It has occured to me that I have been negligent in my gift giving —"

"—Stop," Ralph rasped out, shaking his head. The words tumbled out of his mouth and he found himself gasping. "Not a single word of that, Your Majesty. Why are you in such a good mood?"

"Ah? Why would I not be?" Casper said in amusement, "I finally get to see my butler after ages. You know, after pondering, I realized that perhaps I haven't been the kindest to you, Ralph. But —"

"Shout at me, scream at me, do something that isn't this!" Ralph interrupted, desperation oozing into his words, "why must you be kind and sweet now? Why must —!"

"Ralph," Casper said calmly, "would you rather me be in a bad mood now? I thought you always complained about how cruel I was."

Yes, I would rather you be cruel. Yes, I would rather you be horrible to me. That way, I won't feel so bad. Yes, it's selfish, I know. Yes, I can still —

The words fell from his lips quickly, like lightning striking a field. "I'm marrying Sarah."

There was a pause that lingered in the air.

"...you jest," Casper murmured, tilting his head. The familiar glint had returned to his eye. "You jest, my dear butler."

There, Ralph thought, that's the Emperor I'm accustomed to seeing.

He shook his head. The ring caught the light from the window and shone, seemingly taunting Casper. "I'm not, Your Majesty. I've decided to settle down."

"With Sarah," Casper started to laugh, "oh, this isn't funny."

"I'm not joking," Ralph whispered.

Take your words back now, his common sense told him, take your words back.

Growing up, Ralph had always been a rather persistent and stubborn kid. That quality had been good when he was trying to master something, but now, it served as the final nail in the coffin.

Another silence and pause. Then something shattered, and Ralph saw that the Emperor had broken a glass ornament. Inside was a daffodil, and the flower dropped out.

Ralph looked at the broken ornament, then at Casper.

"Your gift," Casper smiled, "that was your gift. You had always liked sentimental things. So this time, I thought I would humor you — this time, I thought I would be better, and that I would try. Does Sarah know that your favorite flowers are daffodils? Does she know that you prefer sentimental things to extravagant items, does she —"

Casper laughed again, before he raked his fingers through his hair.

"I'm going to kill her. Or perhaps I'll kill you, and then her," Casper said softly, "which would you prefer?"

"Your Majesty," Ralph said shakily. "Sarah — she is innocent."

"Innocent," Casper repeated, "do you mean that vile and selfish woman? Do you mean that disgusting and cruel woman? Do you mean that person who has the guts to take away what's mine —"

"— I'm not yours, Your Majesty," Ralph cut in, "you've always assumed so, but that is simply not true."

"Oh, but you are," Casper said carelessly. That tender nature of his was now gone. "You are my butler. Your duties — they are all tied to me. Your loyalty — it belongs to me."

"I have the freedom to marry who I want."

"You're making all the wrong choices," Casper scoffed, "but in hindsight, I can see that you gave me very little, Ralph, but I tried to build my whole world and future around you. In hindsight, I can see that my love for you will kill the both of us. In hindsight, I can see that I've always loved you more than you have loved me."

"Saying the same words from all the way back," Ralph murmured, "you have no shame."

"You will crawl back to me," Casper smiled, "your marriage will fail. You will divorce Sarah, and you will come back to my side. And then you shall see that I was right all along."

"That will not happen," Ralph shook his head.

"Ah, but well," Casper murmured, "I suppose I've always foreseen something like this happening. I knew my suffering would be by your hands. I knew that of course, good things always came to an end."

Ralph rolled his eyes. "We were never something in the first place. We weren't lovers, for god's sake."

"You slept with me," Casper pointed out.

"So?"

Capser laughed again. It was odd how he had the habit of laughing in such miserable situations. He had laughed when his mother had tried to kill him. He had laughed when his father had called him a monster. And now he laughed again, as the love of his life declared that he would wed someone else.

Casper was the Emperor. He was meant to have the whole world at his fingertips. But now his world was telling him that he was about to marry someone else —

There was only despair. There were thousands of ways to get your heart broken, and this was the most painful way yet.

Casper's words were flat and serious as he spoke. "I suppose I have no reason to live anymore. This is all foolish."

"You're being melodramatic."

"You knew very well what my reaction would be," Casper said quietly, "you know that my existence lies on you. You know that I will die without you. You know that —"

"No one lives forever," Ralph told him, "but I thought you would try, at least, even if you knew what would happen. I was bound to marry Sarah."

"Were you?" Casper asked sardonically, "no, I don't think so. You only accepted that wretch because you didn't dare to think about a future for us."

"You're right," Ralph agreed, "I didn't dare to. Because I was certain that our future would be filled with misery."

"We were happy once. We would be happy again, and I was willing to try," Casper scoffed, "I was willing to try."

His words held true. Before Ralph had broken the news to the Emperor, the Emperor had been sweet — kind — caring — loving —

Ralph stared at the daffodil on the floor as well as the shattered glass.

"I wish I never met you," Ralph whispered. The ring in his finger felt like it was cutting off blood circulation. Who did he truly wish that he didn't meet? Was it Sarah? Was it Casper? Who was it? "I wish our paths never crossed. I wish..."

"You don't know how painful it is for me to hear your words and to realize that I cannot have someone like you, not anymore." Casper said coldly. "You have ruined our relationship. Nothing will ever be normal again."

"Was there ever normal between us? If I recall correctly, you were constantly condescending and insulting towards me."

"But you loved me," Casper pointed out. "You loved me, with all my flaws. I will kill Sarah, Ralph. I'm serious. If I kill Sarah, wouldn't you return to me?"

"You claim that, but you won't," Ralph said at last. "Because you know I wouldn't return to you. You are the kind of person to plan out punishments well. You are the kind of person to rip happiness away the moment that I'm feeling the slightest bit of joy. And now that I'm drenched in misery, you will see no point in making me upset."

"So you're saying that I will only kill Sarah when you find happiness?" Casper smiled. "That could be years down the road."

"But you wouldn't forget," Ralph whispered. "You're the kind who would never forget."

Ralph remembered Casper's reaction when he had told him about his engagement with sickening detail. And it would continue to haunt him, forever.

Casper sighed and picked up the glass from the floor, the shards cutting his hands. Blood flowed out, and it was like a bad omen. The rain started to pour outside the window then.

"You're right," Casper said, "I will not forget. The moment you are joyful — I will rip that happiness away from you, and I will kill her."

That had been a promise.

That had been a grudge.

—

John is a NPC that serves very little use, so you guys don't have to worry about him lol

Casper and Ralph miscommunication final boss

anyway I've been asked before what kind of setting this fic is in, so just think along the lines of ambiguous western royalty setting — I haven't put much thought into it haha

anyway I hope everyone enjoyed! their reunion is coming soon and im simply writing mostly flashbacks and plot for the time being haha don't mind me :]

regardless, hope everyone enjoyed! do vote on the chapter and add to your library for updates woohoo

how was it?