Empress of Self-Ruin

Chapter 25: The Core of His Being

It started like this.

It was past midnight and Arsen was sitting alone at his spot near the window with a half-empty whiskey bottle, reminiscing about his parents.

He was only eight, but he remembered the soft tune sounded from his parent's drawing room that stopped him in his tracks and how he had tiptoed, pushing the door open just the slightest bit further.

Calisto and Clementine, illuminated only by the flickering light from the fireplace, danced through their drawing room as if they were the only two people in the world—the only ones who mattered. Little Arsen found himself enraptured by their dance—the kind of understanding and teamwork that could only come from years of walking the world as a pair.

But something about Calisto and Clementine's slow, fluid dance seemed like so much more. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, but later that night when his mother had teased him about peeping before kissing him goodnight, he had whispered, "That's what I want."

"To have your child stalking you?"

"No, Mum." He chuckled. "I want someone to dance through life with. Someone who'll be with me and who will... who's loyal enough to love me until the end."

"It's a nice thought," she agreed. "You've got plenty of time, sweetheart."

"But Mum, how would I know it's the real thing?" Arsen had frowned, suddenly quite unsure.

"You'll know when the time comes, sweetie," she had answered. "When I think about the future, there's only one person I'd want to dance with when we're gray and old."

"So you know because you believe it?"

"You could say it like that." She nodded. "When you find the right person, one can take something fleeting and make it monumental—sometimes, fleeting can feel like an eternity."

"That sounds so romantic." Arsen leaned closer, eyes alight with mischief and so much more as he continued, "But Mum, I don't know about other people, but forever sounds like a terribly short time to love someone, don't you think so?"

While it was a contradicting thought he had uttered—something he didn't quite understand himself, for some reason, he felt like his mother would get it.

Love was a powerful force. Arsen had believed in it with his entire heart. He saw that with his parents, who overcame the odds and made sacrifices just to be together. They didn't have the easiest time, but they overcame that, got married, and had him.

And with them both as parents, Arsen had been showered with so much love he had nearly drowned in it.

Love, for him, had been easy to receive and easy to give, in whatever form it was—whether they would be admiration, fondness, adoration, or pity. He knew love as early as he was born, because he was made out of it.

That was why he always thought he would have that with someone one day.

"What is it?" Arsen had asked his mum when he realized she had been staring at him for quite some time—her warm amber eyes twinkled with fondness.

"Don't lose that," his mum had said.

"Lose what?"

"You've got years until your coronations, so please—don't lose that belief. I mean, I know you won't, but..."

"But?"

"Seeing you believe in something the way you are... it's pretty incredible."

His expression contorted into something more gentle—into something quite like pride. "I won't, Mum."