a/n; i hope everyone enjoys this chapter! again, it's on the lighter side and also more relationship centric. thank you for all the incredible support so far and do remember to vote + comment as it would greatly motivate me!

—

PAST | from chapter twelve

"Hey," Silas said suddenly. "I got an idea."

"Huh?" You brightened up a little. Here Silas was, taking the initiative. How novel. "What is it?"

"We should dance. Like a waltz, or something. I just got taught ballroom dancing."

You burst into peals of bright laughter. "Hah! You? Dancing?" You wiped your tears with your hands. "That's a hilarious picture. I can't even imagine that."

Silas frowned. "I'm the future —" He paused. "—Nevermind. Whatever. If you don't want to, that's fine. But my teacher told me people who like each other dance together during balls. Next time, when we grow older, I would invite you to dance. And if you don't know the steps, that's on you."

That did the trick. Challenged, you immediately sat up and grabbed Silas's hands. You jutted your chin out stubbornly.

"Fine."

—

PRESENT

It only occured to you on the ball's day itself that Silas was to be your ballroom partner.

"I thought having a ballroom partner was optional," you frowned, adjusting your cufflinks that Silas had graciously gifted you — "I didn't know it was compulsory."

It wasn't. You were right — having a ballroom partner was optional.

Silas was lying, and he knew you didn't like it when he lied. But then again, this was a white lie, and would do more good than harm. It wouldn't hurt to actively court you, right? It wouldn't hurt to seek your hand and make you blush, would it?

From young, he had always known that your cheeks tended to flush red when you were happy. And Silas wanted to see that pretty pink flush your face even in adulthood. It was a pity that you didn't get flustered often — you were often undeterred by things. You were far from shy — some would even call you unbothered by the things that happened in your life. It was like life had already given you a fair share of unpleasant surprises, and now you couldn't care less about them.

"Why?" Silas inquired, "does it bother you that I'm your ballroom partner?"

You blinked. It was an unexpected question. For someone seemingly so self assured and confident, it was odd to hear such a pleading question leave Silas's lips. You decided to tease him.

"Aw, is someone insecure? Is my presence so strong that you feel —"

"Yes," Silas interrupted. He had a serious look on his face, and you found yourself being taken aback. "I worry that standing next to you, I'll look insignificant."

You paused. Silas smiled. You smiled back, but then scrunched your nose.

"Are you mocking me, Silas?" You asked.

"...What?"

"Saying such nonsense like how you'll look insignificant standing next to me..." you reached out to pinch his cheek, annoyed, "someone must have taught you to jest. What's with this stupid flattery?"

"I meant it," Silas protested, his turn to look annoyed.

"Ah, whatever." You said dismissively, "now fix your hair. Did you even comb it? Why is it so messy?"

Silas listened to your commands obediently. He did mean his words, though. It hadn't been a joke, like you had deemed it to be. It wasn't just your appearance — Silas found your whole presence to be entirely illuminating and radiant, such that it practically lit up the whole room. Silas, in the six years, had grown to be very observant of other people's behavior. Every glance, every twitch of the lips, every hesitant action — Silas knew it all.

As such, he knew that you attracted others. Your face helped, but your body mannerisms and your presence sealed the deal. It was a shame that you were blind to it all — all the good traits of yourself that were so blatantly obvious to others, but so meaningless to you. If only you studied your reflection in the mirror, you would have realised what a charming adult you had grown into.

"There," you let out a soft sigh, after combing his hair. "Much better."

You pushed him back slightly to scrutinise his appearance. Silas had been the one to pass you what to wear, and whilst your attire was all black (as befitting as what a butler would wear) — you noticed the faintest outline of your clothes, in silky silver. It was the same sliver that outlined Silas's attire, too.

He wasn't being very subtle.

But either way, Silas looked magnificent. The tailor had done a very good job, and everything was perfect and immaculate, from the collar of his shirt to his cufflinks adorning his hands — that again, matched yours. Silas looked every bit the crown prince, like he was meant to be.

You were very pleased by it, and made a mental note to raise the pay of the tailor.

"Y/n," Silas called out suddenly.

You were too busy admiring him to hear him. As one would say, in a more poetic manner: you were hopelessly enshrouded in him. Every action Silas did — you couldn't help but admire his effortless grace and poised manner.

It was only after his breath tickled your ear and he leaned in closer, did you jump and look at him guiltily.

"Pardon?" You asked him, slightly reddening (much to Silas's delight) — "I didn't quite catch that."

"Y/n," Silas repeated, his words amused and soft, "well, I was about to compliment you on your appearance, but it seems like you were too busy looking at me."

"I was," you admitted unabashedly.

Silas laughed. It was rare, mostly, to hear such a laugh fall from his lips. It wasn't rare for you to hear it, but it was very much unfamiliar to the other people in the palace. To them, Silas didn't even know how to move the muscles of his face. But as of now, you two were alone — it didn't matter. You only focused on how pleasant that laugh was to hear.

Silas didn't say anything, but his hands went to your back, smoothly pressing against it.

"It's slightly crooked," Silas clarified.

"What is?"

Silas didn't bother to elaborate.

Slowly, gently, the prince's fingers ran its course on the expanse of your back, smoothly gliding in circles. His touch was heavy and light at the same time, and you found yourself shivering, just a little bit. He didn't seem like he was adjusting anything — you didn't feel anything shift.

Did he really just make an excuse so that he could —

You prodded him, and his fingers fell from your back. It was odd to feel the loss of such a whole sensation.

"Silas," you chided.

"Hmm?"

"Don't look so innocent," you tried to scold him, but your words only dissolved into giggles. Soon, you two were laughing, "why, you sly —!"

"Condemning the crown prince is a crime," Silas reminded you goodnaturedly.

"Oh yeah?" You rolled your eyes, "then arrest me."

Silas's hands instinctively went to yours. You watched in disbelief as he started to turn you around, pinning your hands behind you —

You pushed him away and looked at him in amazement. "What was that for?"

Silas shrugged easily, a hint of a teasing smile playing on his lips. "I was abiding by what you said."

"Enough of the jokes," you mumbled under your breath. You were aware of how hot your face felt now — like it was burning. And no doubt, from Silas's smug expression, you were blushing right now. You exhaled — a long, deep sigh — and smoothened out your clothes.

"We should go, Silas. And I'm expected to call you Your Highness in public."

"Well," Silas said, "His Highness would want you to call him by his name."

"I wish," you gave him a funny look. "Even my father didn't call your father by his name."

"They are not us; we are not them. I don't see why we can't."

"There are a myriad of reasons, and you know it."

"I actually don't," Silas said daringly, "so perhaps you should educate me on that."

There was silence that ensued after that. You hated being the Debby downer, the one clamping down all the fun — but Silas could be so very irrational. You had to be the logic, the reason. The one who actually minded about the public's view.

"Let's not do this before the ball," you sighed. "It's meant to be a time of merriment."

"And it will be."

"If we stick to the proper social rules."

"I don't see why anything has to change," Silas said, exasperated, "everyone already knows how close we are. Do you not know of the rumours of our relationship that persist everywhere?"

"Well, yes, but it's one thing to know, and it's another thing to actually witness it," you emphasised, "like you said, they already know how close we are. So why give them a show?"

"A show?" Silas said, aghast. "All I'm asking for is for you to call me by my name."

"I'm sure that will lead to a lot of other things," you said wryly.

"I promise it won't."

"You promise, Silas?" You raised an eyebrow.

Silas decided that another white lie wouldn't do him any harm. "Yes, I promise, Y/n."

You looked at him carefully. You knew Silas was lying, but then again, you knew you were weak to his gaze, to his words. You were weak to the prince, just like how you had nearly fallen into his touch so readily, so needy-like. In the moment that Silas had grazed your back, you had felt a magnetic, irresistible pull towards him — threatening to make you lean on him.

You sighed and told yourself that you would not yield to Silas's words again in the night.

"Fine, Silas. Have your way, then. But no more of this after this talk."

You knew, too, that this was a lie that you were telling yourself.

—

You should have known that if Silas had lied about not making any more demands, he would have lied about the whole ballroom partner thing.

But that had effectively slipped your radar, and now you were attending Lady Ivory's ball with the prince — your master — as your ballroom partner.

You plucked a glass of juice from a waiter's tray and swirled it around the way one would have swirled wine. You had nearly reached for a glass of champagne then, in your exasperation with Silas. You wondered how conspicuous you looked; dressed to the nines, even as a mere servant.

Yes — you reminded yourself — you were a servant. As much as the words "Imperial Butler" could be dressed up, it still didn't deny the fact that you were of humble origins, and that you were a commoner servant.

The nobles would remind you of that fact relentlessly. In fact, there were some who were already shooting you stupid hostile gazes. You ignored all of them. In the end, it was you who was Silas's dearest friend.

"Welcome to the ball!" Lady Ivory, the host, welcomed the both of you warmly. She was a lovely lady, with a brilliant mind and polite manners. She was someone whom you would befriend and ally with. "It's an honour to see you two, Y/n and Your Highness."

You could already hear the murmurs that had exploded when Silas and you had walked through the door of the ballroom. It didn't help that the announcement had reverberated through the air — please welcome, His Highness, the Crown Prince of the Empire, and the Imperial Butler, Y/n L/n — and had made all the heads swivel to you two.

"Isn't this the first appearances of them both?"

"This is their debut, if you think about it."

"Wow, seeing them in person is..."

It was good, though. It was better to get your names out there.

There were the delighted, high-pitched whispers of the noblewomen who ogled at you two like vouchers eyeing a prey: some shy, some positively hungry — and then there were the men, who were either in awe, or dripping with jealousy.

Then there were the speculative stories from the people that had caught on your nearly matching attires and the fact that you both were ballroom partners. You had only known that the whole partner thing hadn't been compulsory when you had caught sight of a few lone souls, desperate for someone to dance with for the first hour.

You had nudged Silas in the ribs. But Silas hadn't flinched at all, and had instead flashed you a victorious smile.

Again, you had conceded to him.

"Hello, Lady Ivory," you greeted politely. "Thank you for inviting us. Everything looks marvellous. You have done a great job — everyone involved has, of course."

"I've heard so much about the both of you," Lady Ivory smiled, "especially of your close relationship. You two look stunning."

"Thank you," Silas said smoothly. Oh, he thought briefly, she has short hair. That's good.

"You two are ballroom partners, right? Then I suppose that you two shall dance together."

Right, you thought, dance. I did forget about that aspect.

"I might have to sit it out —"

"Oh, yes, of course," Silas nodded his head. "We will dance together."

You immediately frowned. But that frown was gone in an instance, as you concealed it with a bland, frankly confused expression. But Lady Ivory didn't seem to notice, and she instead bowed once more.

"Lovely to know. I hope you two have a wonderful time. The pumpkin pie is quite famous, if the both of you didn't know. If time permits, Your Highness and Y/n should have a try."

With that, Lady Ivory walked away. You cheered up a little at the mention of the pumpkin pie, but Silas's face brought you back to your senses.

"Dance," you echoed his earlier words, "did you mean your words? Did you mean it when you said that we would dance together?"

"I did," Silas said shamelessly.

"And what if I had said no?"

"You can't say no to me," Silas told you.

"Right, because you're the prince, and I'm your butler," you murmured.

Silas's smile grew softer. "No, because you really can't say no to me. You agree with everything I say. Not because I'm the prince, Y/n. Not because I'm your master."

You paused your movements, your lips parting slightly. You tried to form a coherent reply — but Silas was right. He had read you like a book, had played you like a fiddle.

You truly couldn't say no to him.

"It'll be fun," Silas promised.

"It's been a long time since I danced."

"It'll be muscle memory."

"Will it really?" You wondered.

"Yes," Silas said. "Do you not remember?"

You did. Plainly speaking, you did remember. You remembered that day, when you and Silas had danced clumsily and yet so flawlessly in the Imperial Gardens, your bare feet treading on wet moss. Because of the slippery ground, you had found yourself bumping into Silas constantly, your shoulders brushing each other ungracefully — and yet it had been so fun. It had been a core memory for you.

How could you forget? How could you ever forget?

"I do," you admitted. "I always remembered. Every little bit."

The clock chimed. The music played, a soft crescendo. The sounds of the piano and violin melodiously blended together and echoed throughout the room. The orchestra was brilliant — besides the pumpkin pie, Lady Ivory's social events were also known for their magnificent music.

People went up to the centre of the room to dance. Women with men, with the occasional same sex pairing. They held each other gently and began to sway to the sound of the music. Glances were cast at Silas and you: they were debating if you two would dance together, like normal ballroom partners would.

Silas stretched out his hand. His palm faced you. He wasn't wearing gloves. You weren't, either.

His purple eyes flickered to yours. You remembered the sleepless nights you had, thinking of those eyes and swimming in the lovely, clear pools of them.

Slowly but surely, you nodded your head and placed your hand on Silas's palm. It was an agreement. There were no words to be said.

And so Silas swept you in his arms, and he pulled you to the very center of the ballroom.

Your heart fluttered.

—

Dancing with each other was every bit as nostalgic as you remembered. You told Silas this.

"You told me that when young-us got older, you would invite me to dance. I guess that came true, after all." You laughed, the music drowning out the bright, merry sound.

"I didn't think that you really remembered," Silas murmured, "I thought you were simply going along with my words. That was so long ago. Was it when I was six? Seven? I can't remember much of it."

"You were so young then. Of course you don't," you exhaled. So it was only you, then. It was only you who truly remembered the exact first dance that you two had shared, the exact moment, how it had played out.

"But I remember the feeling." Silas exhaled, "I remember how happy I felt afterwards, my first time dancing with you."

Was Silas happy then because it had been his first time dancing with someone, or had he been happy because that someone was you?

Dancing with you now gave Silas the answer.

It was because it had been you.

"You were also the one who told me that people who like each other — they will dance together in balls."

"Did I?"

"Yes." You answered. "You said that. Did you mean it?"

Was there an underlying message beneath your words? Probably. Was there a hidden question in the several syllables that had fallen from your lips? A definite yes.

Selfishly, you wanted confirmation. A verbal confirmation of Silas's feelings towards you. You wondered if you felt ready to answer those feelings, or if you were still too busy understanding yourself to care about the matters of love.

But still, you wanted confirmation from Silas.

You knew how you two looked like in front of others — intimate, loving, romantic. Some couples had even stopped dancing to stare at you two. What an odd, brilliant, beautiful pair you two must have made in front of the crowd.

Your heart felt light — joyful. You liked it, you realized, you liked the thought of being mistaken as Silas's lover.

"I meant those words." Silas said quietly, answering your silent plea hidden behind your earlier question, "and I still mean them."

Silas whispered that sentence; you could not hear what he had said. The orchestra was too loud. The moment slipped away, and you would forever not know his answer.

But it was enough to dance with him then. To feel the weight of one hand on your shoulder, the other cupping your waist. It was enough to feel Silas's presence as your feet moved in tandem with his, and as your bodies swayed gracefully to the music.

Everything was enough.

You were loved, by Silas. Not as an obligation, but as a privilege. Not as a burden, but as something light and airy. It was easy; so easy to love each other. Silas made it terrifically easy.

It didn't matter if you had not heard his answer. Deep down in your bones, you knew what Silas had said, and what he would have repeated if you had asked him that question again.

—

Once the music eased into a lighter, softer tune, you and Silas stopped dancing. You made a beeline for the desserts table, much to Silas's amusement, and cut yourself a small slice of the pumpkin pie. You ignored the whispers and glances tossed your way.

And, you certainly ignored the women who made their way to Silas, blushing and tripping over their words as they tried to invite him to dance. You didn't feel jealous, for you knew Silas only had one answer when it came to others: no.

It was relieving to you, though it should not have been. If he had said yes, would you have dared to get jealous?

Probably, you thought, as you chewed on the succulent pie. You made a mental note to personally praise the chef for his excellent baking skills.

Silas shot you a look that seemed to say, save me, Y/n. Let me get out of these conversations.

You shot him another look that read, sorry, no. You have to interact with others, not just me.

You too, had an agenda in mind. You scrutinised the crowd and picked out the handful of nobles that you and Silas would align with, to ensure for a smooth ascension to the throne. Yes, there was Baron Aiden, Countess Alisha, and...

There was a shuffle of feet and you turned to face Count Paul, who was looking at you.

You suppressed a scowl. That man — in front of you — was unfortunately not one of your candidates to ally with. He was relatively handsome, but compared to Silas...he looked normal. And he certainly didn't have a handsome enough face to make up for his crimes and debauchery. Not that Count Paul knew of his imminent arrest, anyway. It would make for an unpleasant surprise.

"What can I do for you?" You asked politely.

"How we have fallen as a society," Count Paul scoffed, "that we even let mere commoners enjoy the most prestigious ball of the year. Are you even doing your duties right? You're supposed to be accompanying His Highness, and not gorging yourself on the food here. Do you see all the other servants? They are keeping their head low and serving their masters."

His cheeks were red. He was drunk, obviously, having trouble holding his liquor. You felt immediate dislike and resentment towards him — you had always hated drunk, inebriated fools.

In normal circumstances, perhaps Count Paul wouldn't have dared to approach you for you had outwardly displayed your closeness with the crown prince. You could already tell that a lot of snarky nobles were keeping their distance after Silas had been affectionate with you. But then again, a drunken fool tended to do stupid, irrational things.

All the more reason to dislike alcohol.

"How we have fallen as a society," you stared at him, "that we have allowed drunks and alcoholics to attend the most prestigious ball of the year. Is this how you choose to squander the rest of your family's funds? I'm sure your ancestors are crying in their graves."

Count Paul's cheeks flushed even more, but this time it was of anger.

"You dare to —! You, a commoner —!"

Unfortunately, as you became the Imperial Butler in the future, you would have to continue dealing with these people who undermined your position. You had seen your father deal with these types, too. As terrible as he was a father, he was marvelous at his job. But he had never attended any of these social events, for the Emperor had been said to get...jealous.

I suppose Silas pales in comparison to his father, you thought inwardly, how did my father deal with the Emperor, I wonder?

"I assure you, Count," you sighed, "if we were to measure nobility by education, then I'm far more educated than you are. I'm far more qualified. Your words are all silk, no bite."

"You think that you're all special just because you have His Highness's favour?"

You pondered over it for a while. "I suppose, yes."

"You're really shameless admitting it. Even if His Highness pretends to turn over a new leaf and act all charming and sweet, high society will always remember the rumours that spread around in the palace. The future Emperor you are serving is cruel, malicious, and..."

You knew firsthand, the kind of person Silas was. Why was some nobody parroting this to you?

"And?" You asked him flatly. "So what?"

Evidently, Count Paul had not been expecting that answer. He stumbled back a little — you were way taller than him, and thus you made for an intimidating figure.

"You're defending him? His Highness is —"

"I'm his butler. My loyalty —" you paused. "It all belongs to him. You spoke so much about fulfilling my duties earlier, so here's a plain example of me doing so. Defending him," you said, "is meant to be my duty."

"The rumours always said that you were good." Count Paul refuted, "but if you defend a monster like him, that makes you a monster too."

You shrugged. "What can I do? His Highness has already eradicated my ideals."

A small crowd had started to surround the two of you, obviously intrigued by the conversation. A commoner humiliating a noble — it wasn't natural. But then again, were you really considered a commoner, when you had stayed in the palace for so long, and had studied the Imperial syllabus alongside with the prince?

Inevitably, Silas made his way to you, and he clasped your shoulder.

"Please don't make a fuss," you whispered to Silas, "the Count is just a little drunk."

The insides of Silas soured. Just a little drunk, he thought, and your mother, too, had just been a little drunk when she had said such horrid words to you.

Silas's gaze landed on the Count.

Pathetic. If there was a specific subset of people that Silas didn't like, it would be people whose ego did not match their true abilities. It was people who tried to stamp down on the people they deemed as less fortunate in bid to raise their own pride. It was good that you could hold your own, but how could you let this vermin's words slide so easily?

"Get," Silas said softly and dangerously, "away from my butler, Count Paul."

There were no more of the jokes, no more of whatever pettiness and childishness you had seen in Silas earlier — it was total, murky darkness. An intense, deep, and warped emotion had begun to swarm in the prince's eyes, and unconsciously, the Count took a trembling step back.

"I was just saying...!"

"What were you just saying? That my servant — my butler — the one who is associated with me — is a monster? That he's unworthy to be here? You are offending me, too, Count, and such words of defamation targeted towards the Imperial Family is a grave crime."

You nudged Silas again. The crowd had only grown bigger. This whole ordeal was sure to hit the newspapers. This wasn't the way you wanted your names to be spread.

All you have to do is act like a gentleman. That was what you had told Silas when you two were deciding on going to the ball. And now that wayward prince...

You sighed. Why was he so rebellious? You would have stopped Silas, or scolded him, even, but you supposed that you could let him off this time round, considering the dance had been so pleasant.

Yes, you were embarrassingly biased towards him.

Silas had thought of your words, too, of your reminder to be a gentleman and to not stir up any trouble.

I'm sorry, Y/n, Silas thought. It's a pity, but it seems like I won't be able to adhere to your words.

Back in the days he had killed — well, back in the days he had killed more often — he would feel bloodlust overwhelm his rationale. But this time, Silas was in perfect control of his emotions. He knew he wanted to kill this Count. He knew he wanted red to splatter on the ground. He knew he wanted to avenge you, by violence.

Silas knew that his devotion to you could easily turn violent anytime.

Slowly, deliberately, Silas picked up a small, sharp pick from the fruits table (evidently, the pick was meant to poke the fruits) — and neared the Count. He did not make a show of his actions, and the crowd knew of what he had done only after he retreated from Count Paul. Methodically and gracefully, Silas had stabbed the Count in his abdomen with the pick. There wasn't even a trace of blood on Silas's attire after he was done, but some blood had made its way to his cheek.

This prince...

You rolled your eyes before you pulled Silas to the side. More murmurs broke out at your seemingly lackluster response to the situation.

"Your Highness — seriously, what is the matter with you?" You sighed as you wiped the blood off his face. "Was it necessary? Are you that hungry for blood? Just when the rumors were starting to get better..."

"They want a story," Silas said, "and so I'll give them one. It's heroic, isn't it? The prince steps in and avenges his butler after his name is sullied," he smiled. "Look at the crowd. They aren't angry at me. They see this as a story of romance, even. That is how high society has always been. They view everything through rose tinted glasses. They weave a tale."

You stroked his hair gently. "Since when were you so knowledgeable about that?"

"Hm. Since now?"

Count Paul's servant had started to aid him — he had fallen to the ground in pain. And it seemed like the count wanted to say something else, from the way he opened his mouth — but he caught the look of warning on your face, and thought better of it.

One more word from him, and Silas would be sure to exterminate him. You were protecting Count Paul from such a fate by warning him.

"You broke your promise," you told Silas, "multiple promises, actually. How can I trust you now?"

You asked the last question in a teasing way. It wasn't meant to be serious; it wasn't meant to be solemn. But Silas smiled either way, took your hand, and pressed it to his cheek.

His cheek was cold, you noted. Your hand felt warm in comparison, pressed to his skin. Silas didn't even seem to care about the people who were ogling the two of you now, and you couldn't bring yourself to tear your hand away from his touch.

"Because you always trust me, don't you, Y/n?" Silas smiled. "You will always trust me, and I will always give you reasons to."

What was it that you had said to the Count earlier?

His Highness has already eradicated my ideals.

Yes, that was true.

That was very much true.

—

again, very romance/pining centric chapter.

things will pick up soon! I hope you all look forward to it! was not expecting to update so fast after the latest update but oh well when one gets sick they become super free so here I am literally bed rotting and just writing... but I'll get busy later after I recover (which will be pretty soon unfortunately) got to savour it while it lasts!

anyway hope everyone liked it!! do remember to vote on this chapter if you haven't as well as add to your library to get notified of future updates :) see you all in the next chapter!

how was it?