Snow-Laden Branches

Chapter 2

Cradled within sky-lining glaciers of jagged ice, laid the palace of Jingxue. The ragged flags that once hung so proudly were now seemingly abandoned at their place of eternal rest.

Footsteps crunched the snow beneath them as they approached what once was a proud front gate, now worn from the harsh impact of war.

The palace stood prominently with curved rooftops colored a washed jade and beams a once deep ruby red. The wooden sliding doors were burnt fir stained with the finest of red dyes, with walls the same color.

The secondary buildings were not as large as the main palace, but still stood symmetric from each other on the east and west ends of the palace, and were built from the same fine materials.

They showed more damage than the main building, with dried blood splattered against the delicate wooden walls that were just barely standing.

Roofs were made from glazed ceramic tiles that showed signs of corrosion. Despite the years of effect this had, the prominent jade color from them was still very apparent.

The deep-rooted culture showed its age, battered from the cold climate. The scent of jasmine and pine incense had been dimmed with time, but was still noticeable within broken down memorials that stood just within the gate.

Now, standing in front of this magnificent palace were two figures, one of which holding a similar incense with hard hands.

"Your Highness, will you be alright?" Asked the smaller of the two brooding figures, who was dressed in a heavy woolen cloak, dark brown in color.

The other man nodded, eyes hard.

"Yes, Azrael."

Being the taller of the two men, the soon-to-be-king had on a pitch-black jacket with fur lining a similar color. His dark skin contrasted with his piercing blue eyes, which one was covered by a black leather eyepatch, and snow-white locs. The back portion of his locs was tied with a loose hair band, and came to his lower back. The front ends were draped over his shoulders and came down to his midline.

At his side, he had a sword confined in a dark leather sheath, which hung around his waist. He was adorned in a white frilled tuxedo shirt tucked into black dress pants. He had on onyx boots which complimented the fur-lined coat which hung over his figure and made him seem bigger than he already was.

The prince had a sharp jawline and held himself in good posture, seemingly practiced and honed for years. Contrary to Azrael, his presence held power.

"And I already told you to call me by my name when we are alone," The prince chuckled with little mirth in his voice. Although, it was easy for the shorter of the men to detect casualness in his tone.

"Yes, Your Highn– er, Zaphkiel."

Zaphkiel gave the other man an empty smile, one that didn't quite meet his eyes, before he turned his attention to the grand memorial that sat within the open throne room that was inside the palace's walls.

With a deep inhale, he entered the grand palace.

Azrael hesitated, before deciding to not follow the prince in. The man knew more than many how emotional these visits were for Zaphkiel, and that they meant a lot to him.

Even with a cold exterior, the prince's sharp eyes still held the pain harbored from a thousand years ago. The servant could see it from the way he actively avoided the topic of the war, to the downcasted gaze whenever the name of his once-beloved was uttered.

Zhou Mingyu, the second-born son of the Jingxue kingdom, and Zaphkiel's once betrothed.

The prince had loved everything about him. From the way his smile crinkled the ends of his eyes, to the joyous sound of his laughter that never failed to warm Zaphkiel's heart.