aamon paxley X o.c. • the duke and the runaway

01.

From the south of the Moniyan Empire is the Castle Aberleen whose honor of dukedom belonged to the House of Paxley.

The night was lively and robust where visitors chatted with cheerful energy. The event was something memorable for those who belonged to this house of magic. It was the time when Aamon Paxley was granted the title of dukedom.

"You are one admirable man, Duke." An officer told him while he sipped his red wine. "As expected of the Paxley heir."

"Thank you for the compliment." The ash grey-haired male beamed as he acknowledged those words. His deep blue eyes surveyed the area and his ears listened to the sounds of men and women in the ballroom. On the right side of the room, he discovered his younger brother being surrounded by guests as the chesnut-haired Paxley showed his dagger skills.

One after another, the tips of his blades embedded itself in the target stand. Gusion's hand moved with expertise while he let his blade flew through the air.

A smile faintly appeared on the young duke's face while observing his brother's knack for daggers. However, the elders who were watching nearby contained a frown on each of their faces. For them, he was like a mistaken blotch of paint on the perfect canvass of their household.

"Oh! Another one!" A guest cheered, marvelled at the graceful movement of the Paxley. Gusion nodded with a proud smile as he summoned one of his blades into his hand and threw it.

It wasn't what he had expected as the dagger whizzed past by his target and was headed to his own older brother. Aamon blinked and put his hand to his cheek, feeling the warm ooze of his blood. Gasps echoed in the ballroom and his younger brother watched his brother's reaction with guilt then averted his eyes to the floor whilst muttering an apology.

"Forgive me, brother. I didn't mean—" Gusion stopped when he felt a reassuring hand from his older brother. He thought that he would receive some kind of lecture or a punishment but the duke didn't say anything nor mentioned a blame against the younger Paxley.

The blue-eyed man walked away, knowing that the scar on his cheek would be a permanent remembrance of what he would have been.

.

Braidwood.

An isolated town where criminals and burglars lived to hide from the sight of the innocent people and the members of the kingdom.

It was abandoned due to famine but evil men resided there to cover their identities along with their measly transgressions. This area is meant for those who wanted to avoid a possible eternity in imprisonment.

Living in this secluded borough with an excuse of a father wasn't what that young woman wanted. He was an aloof man possessing his own list of misconducts. He refused to work and relied on gambling for money in order to buy some booze. He was just like any other normal bandit that would ambush travelers.

It was unfortunate that he's her father. Seraphima Crisiant didn't hate him, however, she preferred to dislike him for hate is such a strong word. He did provide her shelter and a bit of food but he is the farthest from being a true father that she didn't take his last name.

The female didn't have anyone else to turn to. She had no relatives or family. Her mother perished from when she was born, according to her father. He didn't seem to love her at all and he firmly believed that his late wife planned to elope with someone else.

But she didn't care about what he said. Because she believed in the goodness of her late mother even if she didn't get to be with her. The only remembrance that Seraph retained were the necklace with a black coal at the end and her mother's last name Crisiant.