a/n; the part that everyone has been waiting for! i had quite a lot of fun writing this so I hope you guys have fun reading this too haha — remember to add this fic to your library to get updates and do vote and comment on this chapter as it would greatly motivate me! try not to be a silent reader!

—

On the day that you were due to meet Silas, the skies were clear and sunny.

You stared at the mirror, frowning as you realized how tall you had become. You had become rather well built after years and years of honing your skills, and you certainly didn't look like a teenager anymore. Now at twenty one, you looked your age, though your face still carried a youthful glow to it. You owed it to your mother's marvelous cooking.

After your birthday a few years ago, you had continued to visit John, and he had continued to converse with you as well as give you free mocktails. You had gotten pretty popular with the folks there too, but you never became that close with them. That place wasn't your future — your future lied with the palace.

Your future lied with a person.

And you would meet that very person after six years, after you had run away and broken a promise.

You had packed little things into your satchel — some snacks to eat along the way to the palace, all the gifts and letters that Silas had sent, and the memory rock that Silas had wanted you to bring along. Of course, the memory rock was now filled to the brim with small memories that you had captured.

Your mother had prepared a feast as your last breakfast home, but you could hardly see yourself keeping it down out of your nerves and jittery feelings.

"I'm sorry," you said ruefully, shaking your head as you went into the kitchen. "Would it be possible to pack this and bring it to the palace instead? I'm sure Silas would love to try this. He has always loved your cooking."

"Has he?" Your mother flushed red, "alright, then. I'll do that."

Things had been amiable between you and your mother, which meant that you would be leaving her on a good note. You watched as she packed the sugary treats into a small box — you had been rather astounded by the idea of cinnamon rolls and pie for breakfast — and wondered if Silas's taste buds had remained the same. After all, he was now nineteen.

Nineteen, you thought wistfully, that means I've known him for thirteen years. That's incredibly long.

Your mother passed you the bag and you two locked eyes for a brief second, before she enveloped you in a hug. It was early in the morning, and yet you were supposed to set off very soon. If possible, you would have liked to have breakfast with Silas in the palace to ease into the relationship once more.

Her voice was shaky as she spoke, "I'll miss you."

You knew you would miss her, too. You would miss the sound of her bare feet against the wooden tiles as she baked, you would miss the smells of her cooking as they wafted through the kitchen to your room, and you would miss her scent.

But still, you weren't upset. You knew you would see her again, and that thought comforted you. And so you buried your head into her arms, and you hugged her tightly.

"I'll miss you, too," you gave her a genuine smile, feeling her fingers graze your hair, "wait — I wanted to give you something."

Your mother pulled back and looked at you quizzically.

"Here's my journal," you pulled the book out of the satchel that you were carrying, "and we will write letters," you promised her.

Long time ago, she had stopped reading your journal because you had simply been too afraid for her to read all those childish thoughts you had. But now that your relationship with her was more or less amended, you supposed it would serve no harm. And besides, your mother would be lonely without anyone in the house.

"I didn't add anything to it, if that was what you were thinking," you said, "but I thought that perhaps you would enjoy reading my old entries. The ones that I wrote from when I was a child."

Your mother stared at the book with awe, a little smile on her face. Her fingers brushed the cover and you laughed.

"Why are you handling it so delicately? Look how old and frayed it is."

"Oh," she spoke slowly, "but it is so very precious. Thank you, Y/n."

You were embarrassed at how your mother seemed to marvel at something so trivial. "We'll keep in touch."

"We will," your mother confirmed, before she cupped your cheeks and looked at you with a solid, unwavering gaze.

"I'm proud of you, Y/n," she whispered, her eyes shining. "I will never regret the fact that you are my son."

You swallowed and halted for a brief moment — just the slightest second — before you nodded your head.

"I love you. Goodbye, Mother," you murmured.

Her hands slowly left your face as you turned to step out of the door. You cast one last look at the house that you were born in — at the house that you had spent six years in — at the house that you had suffered so much in — and looked away.

It was bittersweet, but truthfully, you were glad to be gone.

—

When you first entered the kitchen quietly, the staff all squealed with delight. You were a little flustered first, for you had not expected such a warm welcome — but there came a flurry of motions, and you found yourself buried in Kate's arms.

"Six years!" The servants kept exclaiming, "it's wonderful to have you back!"

Raye ruffled your hair and gave you a grin. "Have you come back cheekier, or are you still the same well mannered boy I saw six years back? You're a full-grown adult now."

You gave an easy laugh. "Hopefully the latter."

You surveyed the kitchen staff. There were some new faces, some old ones. Several servant girls didn't seem familiar to you, and they looked at you shyly as you gave them a friendly nod. The older ones had wrinkles and creases on their faces that had not been present when you had left.

"So," Kate said, wiggling her eyebrows, "we are all dying to know why you left so abruptly."

You blinked in surprise. Did they not know the reason why? Had your father and the Emperor managed to keep things under wraps so well? In fact, a six year break from the Imperial Palace was nearly unheard of, but you supposed that your father had managed to smoothen things out which allowed for your return to the Palace.

You scratched the back of your neck and pondered over your response. You could not tell them the correct reason, of course — so you would have to make something up. "I wanted to visit home," you said at last, "and well, I ended up taking a really long time to come back."

"My daughter — Silvia — missed you," Raye told you, smiling, "she grew all mopey and upset after you left. Would you want to see her now?"

You shook your head. "I'm sorry. I will have to see His Highness first — how is he, by the way?"

The staff shared furtive glances. You didn't know whether those looks had a negative or positive connotation to it.

"Ah," Kate said haltingly, "His Highness — he's alright."

You frowned. "I heard he grew rather tame, actually."

"He definitely has," Kate said thoughtfully, "in fact, he has earned the respect of alot of our staff members because he seems very well mannered and regal now. But how do I say this? His Highness seems —"

"—Cold," Raye finished, "he's like an ice block. He smiles, yes, but gosh, it's completely frigid. His Highness has put up several iron walls. It's funny to say this, but this new trait of His Highness is even more fearsome, for now none of us can gauge what he's actually feeling. He used to be a lot more open with his feelings."

"I see..." you trailed off. That didn't sound so good. But from the tone in his letters, he had always sounded so sweet and warm.

"But," Kate said hastily, "you shouldn't worry about that. You've always been the exception."

"Yeah," another voice chimed in. "Don't worry about it, Y/n!"

You managed a smile, hoping those words were true. "Thanks. I'll leave some treats here for you guys, and I'll bring the rest to His Highness. See you later."

"Good luck," Raye told you. "I hope everything goes well with him."

You nodded your head, downing a cup of ice cold water before you decided to head to the Imperial Gardens. You were still a little early, and you would have liked to dip your feet into the lake if possible.

As you walked, you studied the layout of the palace. A few years back, you had done the same after your three years of absence, but this time felt different, somewhat. Back when you were twelve, you regarded yourself as someone much older and wiser, but now, as an adult, you realized how foolish and childish you had been then.

Your eyes flickered to the walls and you noticed the slight changes that it had. New flowers had replaced the old daffodils by the side, and you were sorry to see them go.

You wondered for a brief moment if you would see your father here, or even the Emperor, but you doubted they would be walking about aimlessly so early in the morning. Your feet hit the grass as you started walking towards the lake, and you took off your shoes to dip your feet inside. The water was still as deliciously cold as it had been from last time, and you closed your eyes.

You couldn't believe it yet that you were in the palace. Everyone so far that you had reunited with had been so familiar, and yet so different. It felt like there was now a wall between you and them — something was bridging you away from them, somehow, whether it was the missing years or the way that you had changed.

Kate had recognised you after a moment's pause. You had seen the way her eyes had registered your new height, your longer hair, your new build — but still, she had sensed it was you, all the same.

You wondered how you looked in the eyes of others. Not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually. Did you seem tired? Colder? More distant? Perhaps to them, you were still the same twelve year old naive kid running along the hallways, pushing a tray of sweets.

And Silas — of course he had changed too. He had been a mere teenager when you had left, at the raw age of thirteen, and now he was nineteen.

Cold, huh? You mused. They said he was cold, and yet respectable. However, does that respect come from fear?

The Silas you knew had always been so passionate and honest with his love. So passionate that it had been the very reason that you had left him. The years from thirteen to eighteen were transformative, and the most prevalent. And yet, you had still left him alone.

You were prepared to face his silence as punishment, and yet his letters and gifts had been so sweet, and so thoughtful — that you were inclined to think that he would face you with the same gentleness that he had then.

You took your feet out of the water but didn't bother to wear your shoes. Instead, you ventured deeper into the gardens, your bare feet treading on soft moss. You stopped occasionally to stare at the flowers, semi pleased that you could still name all of them. Even now, the names and the meanings of the flowers stuck with you.

You walked even further, your heart heavy but your feet light. What had the old reunion been like? It was joyful, worry-free, and even amusing. But the difference between now and then was that six years ago, you two had parted on a gloomy, depressing note. If the others were telling you that Silas had become completely alienated from everyone, did that mean he would be detached from you?

There was one thing worse than someone who was outrightly vicious, and that was someone who buried their feelings of resentment beneath layers and layers of their skin. Silas was calm, now, but only on the outer surface. Who knew what kind of anger swarmed underneath?

...I'm thinking so poorly of him, you thought, suddenly mortified, how could I be thinking about Silas in such a way?

Perhaps you changed. Perhaps you had become bitter, more resentful —

When did you start assuming the worst of things? Of people?

You stopped in front of the tree with your father and the Emperor's initials, gazing at it before you sat below it. You took an apple from your satchel and rolled it between your hands, before you sighed and tucked it in your bag again. You still didn't have an appetite. What time was it? Would Silas come here? It had been both of you guys' favorite haunt, after all. Besides, this was where you two had reunited the last time.

Suddenly, you felt overcome by the urge to cry. You didn't know why, but you were terrified. You were twenty one now, but still, you were still haunted by the memories that you had made when you were eight.

Eight, you thought desperately, I wish I was eight again.

You glanced up, and you could nearly envision your eight year old self pulling six year old Silas along with bright giggles. Then you remembered your reflection in the lake — your expression was hardened, almost. It wasn't child-like anymore, nor innocent. Eight years old you tormented you for not becoming the version of yourself that he had wanted you to be. Eight years old resented you for the times you were cruel or raised your voice.

Eight years old you held onto you with a vice-like grip, threatening to never let go of you. Self-hate had become a common word in your dictionary, and you no longer tried to escape it.

Eight years old you were amazed and horrified that you had allowed your family to fall into pieces. The ghost of your past followed you everywhere, and you no longer could shrug it off easily.

You found yourself falling into your thoughts. Time and time again, you would find yourself suffocating, struggling to break free.

You glanced up again, and this time, you saw something completely different. A flash of purple, a flash of gold. A familiar figure. The urge to cry dissipated completely and instead, was replaced with a slow, spreading sensation. A sensation of trepidation — fear — happiness — love.

Your Savior. The one who would lift you up from your spiral and thoughts.

Standing before you was Silas.

"Y/n."

A whisper so soft — a whisper that sounded so disbelieving — carried along the wind to reach your ears.

You replied almost instinctively, "Silas."

When you had looked up; Silas had nearly doubled over at your beauty. He had thought it was a hallucination, at first. After years of praying fervently that one day you would simply appear before his eyes — there you were, resplendent and gorgeous.

Was it a dream? It felt like one. Silas was nearly unsteady on his feet as he stepped forward, his fingers trembling. He knelt down, almost like he was bowing down to a deity, and then the two of you were sitting below the tree.

After six years, you had simply become more beautiful than he had remembered. More beautiful than you had been in his dreams. More stunning. Oh, you were simply so lovely. The people who even caught the slightest glance of you — weren't they so lucky?

You couldn't help but laugh softly as Silas reached forward to press a kiss on the back of your hand. His majestic purple eyes flickered up, and the laugh caught in your throat.

To the outsider, perhaps it seemed that Silas was indifferent to it all. Perhaps it seemed that Silas was blandly polite, with a practiced and insincere smile. Silas's expression did not betray his emotions, and he seemed to have cloaked an air of detachment.

But to you, who had long annotated each of his facial expressions to heart, you caught the flicker of warmth and joy in his eyes, spreading across his irises. You caught the tremble of his fingers as they reached out to you. You caught his agony and love he had, etched across his features — you saw the anger.

Silas had yearned for you the same way that you had yearned for him. And Silas was furious at you, too, for abandoning him without a word. He was furious, delighted, and relieved — all of those emotions were unbridled and targeted towards you.

But clearly, from looking at him, pure unfiltered joy overrode all of it. A look of gentleness crossed over his face and Silas reached out to you, touching your cheek tenderly. It was like he was trying to assure himself that you weren't a figment of his imagination — you were here, and you were alive.

Six long years. The emotions that had been kept safely within your heart now stirred once more, and only now, you understood the extent of your love towards Silas. It was akin to someone relapsing after a period of drought; and for you, Silas was the drug that you were irreversibly addicted to. He was not necessarily good for you, but oh, he had saved you, and now you two craved each other's presence.

You two needed each other.

The first coherent thought made its way to your brain — how did you survive, without him?

You tasted copper on your tongue as you looked at him. The kiss lingered on your hand. What would you say? An apology? A few words expressing your delight in seeing him? An inquiry? A question, to ask Silas how much he had missed you?

Silas had grown into his features. He was devastatingly handsome now, with his eyes blossoming into a gorgeous purple hue, and his golden hair long and silky. He had not cut it. Anyone — man or woman — would have faltered at his beauty and grace. It was as if his features had been carved from the Gods themselves.

You two didn't speak, but instead, stayed staring at each other. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but merely a moment of awe for both parties. He is so beautiful, you thought, Silas is so wonderfully beautiful. This was the Emperor that you would cultivate.

This was the Emperor whom you would serve — this was someone who you would pledge your undying loyalty to.

Silas's fingers traced your jaw and your breath hitched. Silas leaned in, and his eyes studied you carefully, like he was assessing the state you were in.

You found yourself drowning in his eyes. They were like amethyst, you thought, they were clear, so gorgeous, and so precious. You could have looked at him forever. And instead, you gave a soft laugh — it was simply melodic, Silas thought — music — and opened your mouth to speak.

"I missed you," you whispered, your words sweet and warm. You felt his hands interlace with yours with tenderness, and all you could think of then was oh, how I've missed him so. How I love him. How I —

"Me too, Y/n," Silas breathed out slowly, his hands moving up to brush a loose strand of hair away from your ear. Your breaths were in tandem now, and you felt a reassuring warmth pulse through your veins as his feathery touch lingered on your skin. "I missed you so much. You look well — that is good. How have you been?"

How had you been? Truthfully, even you didn't know the answer. In his absence, you had felt like an empty husk. You had surrounded yourself with different things so as to give yourself a purpose for living, but now all of those things didn't matter and withered in light of the sole reason you breathed.

You would stay loyal to him until the very end. You would live the future that Silas envisioned, and without Silas, there was no future for you. He would be Emperor, and you would help him carve out a future for the Empire.

This was your purpose. You would be the light that would illuminate Silas's path in life.

"Good," you smiled, "I...this six years..." You didn't know what to say properly. Your voice felt like it was cracking — smattering to bits. "I've been well."

You had lived properly. That was all that mattered. But you had not lived. Without Silas, it had been impossible to do so.

"I thought of you," Silas murmured. "I thought of you endlessly. Did you —"

Your breaths stuttered.

"I did, Silas. I thought of you. I kept thinking of you. I kept..." you smiled weakly. "I nearly regretted leaving you then."

"Nearly," Silas managed a small laugh, "even now, you remain resolute in your decision."

"I hear that that very decision did wonders for you, however," you said carefully.

"Perhaps it did." Silas tilted his head, smiling softly, "because now I know..."

Because now I know how to keep you by my side.

Silas would be sweet, loving, and gentle. He would be a wolf in sheep's skin, if needed. He would take your hands and put it over the eyes of your heart, so that you would not see his horrible misdeeds. And similarly, he would fill your ears with honeyed words and sweet words — that he meant.

This way, you would not willingly leave him.

"You've grown tall," you teased him, realizing that he was now on your eye level. "Looks like Kate has been feeding you well. And you're well built. You've been training."

"You told me to. You told me to become strong, and so I did."

Silas wasn't just strong. It was an understatement. You could sense his mana-core, gloriously well controlled and yet so powerful — so poignant. And from the calluses on his palms, you could tell that he had practiced with the sword numerous times. In short, Silas had obeyed you and had diligently trained hard. He had honed his god-given talent.

You could not stop grinning. At long last, you had reunited with your dearest friend. All your worries — had they all been for naught? Your mother had constantly told you that you were an overthinker, and perhaps she had been right.

You had been terrified of so many things — of Silas being angry, of him ignoring you, of him being detached. But everything had slid perfectly into place, and see — you astounded at the tenderness that Silas treated you with. And you marveled at his beauty. You could not tear your eyes away from him.

"What did you bring?" Silas nodded his head towards your satchel.

"Ah," you blinked, before you opened it. "My mother's treats. Like the old times," you said wistfully, "and the memory stone, of course."

After a while, Silas spoke. "I wrote a journal in your absence."

"You did?"

"Yes. If I didn't have somewhere to write my thoughts down — I would have gone insane. I was brimming with thoughts of you."

You were flattered to hear that. "Can I see it?"

"We can trade," Silas offered. You giggled then — it sounded funny, a childish proposition made by an esteemed prince — "you pass me the memory stone, and I pass you the journal. That way, we can fill each other in on our absences."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," you said. Then you smiled teasingly. "Did you just write about me? Was I that important in your life?"

"Yes," Silas said promptly.

You had the decency to be embarrassed. You had said that jokingly, but you had not expected such a quick and honest response.

When Silas and you had been separated, you had felt so empty. You had filled it in with stupid, silly little hobbies. You had stared at the ceiling and had tried to find a cure for your growing depression.

Silas's company had mended everything.

Seeing your perplexed expression, Silas gave a small frown. "Was I not that important in your life?"

"Oh, you were," you immediately answered, "you were — are — very important to me. I started to get sheepish halfway, you know, thinking that I made a promise that I was struggling so much to keep. I had half a mind to just escape and find you."

"I wish you did."

"Self control," you said, "you yourself didn't come to find me. Some days, I wondered if you would just come knocking on my door."

"I thought of that multiple times," Silas admitted.

"But I suppose everything paid off in the end," you sighed, "the reward was great. When I saw you then — I...I think I remembered what it felt like to be loved."

With your mother and father, you constantly had to fight for it. Whether it was physically, emotionally — some way or the other, you would have to prove yourself that they loved you. Even with your mother, whom you were now on good terms with, you had to convince yourself desperately that you were loved by them.

There was no such thing here. There was no proving, no doubts. Love simply existed as a whole. It was just there.

"When I saw you," Silas said feverishly, "I felt alive. For the first time in years —" he swallowed. "For the first time in years, I felt that I was human. That I had a heart beneath my chest — that I was living — breathing."

"Silas," you softened.

"I wouldn't know what to do without you," the prince breathed out shakily, "I really wouldn't. You are my life." He touched your cheek gently, before caressing your hair. "I adore you so much. Don't leave, Y/n. Please; I beg of you; don't go. Don't go again."

There it was. The way your sudden leave had affected him.

But this time, you could promise. In your twenty one years of living, you had spent seven not knowing Silas, and you had spent nine away from him. The other five years — you had spent knowing and loving him. You had spent more years with Silas absent from your life than with him present in your life. And that was why the remainder of your life, no matter how short — would be with him.

It was what you owed him. It was what you wanted.

"I promise."

Silas smiled. "That was what you said the last time."

You humored him by rolling your eyes. "That was because you stabbed yourself."

Silas furrowed his eyebrows, and you winced. "Too soon?" You asked.

Silas looked at you, amused. "No."

You relaxed. Six years had passed. That fight — that instant — was gone now. It could not torture you anymore. "I suppose we were both foolish. We were young."

"We were," Silas admitted. "A few years down the road, we'll say the same."

"Except we're both adults now," you said dryly. "There's very little excuses we can make now, and I think we're both aware of that."

"Perhaps if I kill someone, I can blame it on a slip of my fingers," Silas said simply.

You gave him a look. "You're unbelievable."

Silas was testing the waters, slowly but surely. To what extent would you accept these jokes? As he had thought, you barely batted an eye when it came to the wellbeing of others. Again, you cared, but you didn't care enough.

"Or perhaps — even better — if I steal food from the palace kitchen, I can say that it was a mistake; I somehow ended up there."

Delighted laughter left your lips at this. "You need not steal. You're the prince, Silas."

"You never know." Silas shrugged easily. "There are some very disagreeable people in the palace."

"Everyone here is delightful."

"That's because you have —" Silas stopped.

"You chose to shut yourself up, I see," you said wryly, "why? Were you about to say something that would get on my nerves?"

"I've learned my lesson," Silas said humbly. "But enough of that. Would you want to head to my room?"

"Drag me up, please. It's too comfortable here."

Silas obliged and pulled you up. You startled as you realized that he was really at your height now, though now, Silas was a little taller as you didn't have your shoes on. You were known to be pretty tall, but Silas, though younger than you, was at the same height as you. You thought with relief that it was unlikely that he would grow to be taller than you. You two were stuck at the same height.

"How's my father?" You said absentmindedly. You two walked a little more and you slipped your feet into your shoes when you found them. "Have you seen him around?"

"Very rarely do I see your father, but he always looks tired."

You smiled. "I see."

"Are you happy that he's tired?"

"Forgive my small vindictiveness," you answered, "or my pettiness. But yes; I couldn't help but smile when I heard that."

Silas smiled too.

"And besides," you continued, your tone light, "how could he be tired when his very burden isn't with him? I would have thought his eye bags would have disappeared and —" you caught the look on Silas's face. "It's a joke. You don't have to look so murderous."

"I was thinking of getting rid of your father, not you." Silas clarified — though you did not need the clarification.

"I faintly remember you saying something along those lines a while back."

"Did you?" Silas asked innocently.

As you two ventured out into the main gardens — the area that was now mostly in open air, you caught a few servants giving Silas respectful bows. You were impressed.

"Seems like you're getting popular."

"It's uncomfortable." Silas said offhandedly, "I liked it better when they ignored me, or better yet, ran away."

"But doesn't it feel good?" You wondered. "I like it when I have people's respect and love. I thought you would have enjoyed it."

"We're both..." Silas trailed off.

Different, Silas wanted to say. Unlike you, he found no solace or joy in obtaining other people's love and affection. Silas would never call you an attention seeker, for there was a huge difference between someone who wanted attention and someone who wanted love — but it made him irritated to think of how the adults in your life had made you this way.

Because it was this very people pleasing act that you did that could very well make you choose Silvia.

Silas would not allow that to happen.

He decided to change the subject. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I thought you would like to see Elias. He's in the room. And Daisy too," he added as an afterthought.

"Our pets!" Your eyes lit up. "Ah, how lovely. I thought of them occasionally. Are you feeding them well?"

"They're picky eaters." Silas offered those three words as a vague answer.

"You do feed them, right?" You narrowed your eyes.

"Who do you take me for?"

You opened your mouth to speak, before Silas cut you off.

"Nevermind. I'm not sure if I want the answer to that question."

"I was about to compliment you," you huffed, grinning. You nudged him. "It's a relief, isn't it?"

"What's a relief?"

"This," you said, "we're getting along. I assumed that it would have been a little awkward, but that's not the case."

"I don't think we're physically capable of being awkward." Silas told you.

"Really? You think so?"

Silas nodded his head. "It would have been stranger if we were awkward."

"That's..." you trailed off, contemplating his words for a while. "That's true, I suppose. You know, Silas — before this reunion — I kept thinking of the many conversations that we would have when we met each other again."

"So you talked to no one but the voices in your head," Silas laughed. "That's basically admitting to me that you went crazy in my absence."

"You're reaching a little too far," you said easily, "but you're the kind of person who would entertain — even enjoy — the idea of me going mad without you."

"You're right, again."

Comfortable silence lapsed between the two of you, and the only thing that you could hear was the sound of nature — the distant chirping of the birds that reminded you fondly of Elias, the crackle of leaves beneath your feet, the sound of the trees swaying. Your eyes couldn't help but flicker to every corner — you had missed thousands of seasons here. You had missed six summers.

Last time, to catch the sight of the ripe berries on the trees, you would have to tiptoe or even climb the tree. But now, all you had to do was stand, and you were at eye level with them.

You stopped in your tracks all of a sudden.

Silas looked at you inquiringly. "What's wrong?"

"...Here," was what you said after a while, "was where you asked to be my friend, thirteen years ago. And I remember that I was creeped out here, because you were all covered in blood."

"An assassination attempt," Silas recalled, before a soft, tender smile crossed over his features. "How could I ever forget?"

"It's a little alarming to hear you speak of an assassination attempt with such a sweet look on your face." You shuddered.

"Well, it was the first time that I met you," Silas answered, "of course I'm nostalgic about it. It must have been one of the best days of my life, because you entered it. Because you changed my life then."

"Did you like me from the start?" You asked quizzically, touched by his words. "I remember you being a hard nut to crack."

"...I think I did," Silas said honestly, "I think part of me loved you the moment I met you. I had simply mistaken it as curiosity. I think — when I first met you, I thought; so this is what it means to love. This is what it means to be living. I was lucky, Y/n. You gave the six year old me a reason to live. You made the six year old me understand the meaning of love."

And you, Silas, you thought, gave the eight year old me someone to love. And eight year old me was loved in return.

"Everything worked out," you murmured, "did you know how happy I was when I found out that you were the master that I would serve?"

"I thought you would be furious."

"I thought that, too. A part of me felt like I was obligated to be angry, because after all —" you shot him a look — "you lied to me. But I think I was just relieved, and joyful. I was too young to truly understand betrayal, and you were too young to have big ulterior motives towards me."

"And now?"

"Now that we're adults, all our actions carry meaning. They carry purpose," you said slowly, "if you do something hurtful, it would not be accidental anymore. You would have done it with intent. And I think..."

"Would you — what would you do if that was the case?" Silas whispered.

Silas didn't know what would happen in the future. He would try his best to make sure he never hurt you, that he never made you cry — but truthfully, he didn't know anymore. Deep down, Silas knew that he was keeping an undesirable part of himself at bay. And yet, he was selfish.

It wasn't a dream to stick to you forever, it was a prayer. You had become Silas's religion. You were his God. You were everything to him.

You drew in a sharp breath. You two still weren't moving, planted in the same spot where you had stopped. You focused on Silas's face, shutting out everything surrounding him.

"I would stay."

You knew how Silas loved you. It was obsessive, needy, unyielding — and yet also clumsy; akin to the times that he had fallen as a child. And it was that clumsiness in his love that had hurt you. You knew that then, Silas hadn't meant to hurt you, but the wound he had left had been painful all the same.

Still, you would forgive him. Over and over again, for you had promised him —

For you truly adored him.

—

yay! they're reunited finally! editing this was a pain unfortunately as this is the longest chapter yet for this fic at 6.1k words ^^ here's to longer and better chapters!

thank you in advance for 300k reads! have a wonderful day everyone — and do remember to vote on the chapter and add this fic to your library for updates if you haven't already!

chapter 30 officially marks the start of the adult arc so I hope you guys are as excited as I am woohoo

hope everyone enjoyed!

how was it?