𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

第十四 | FOURTEEN

is the angst heee! yes, on a sliver platter! btw no one comment on this chapter being unrealistic thanks

vote and comment and u get faster updates after this cliffhanger (haha)

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The sky was clear on that day. You were nearly drunk on happiness, uncharacteristically light-footed, your heart singing tunes of pure joy, your lips tugged up into a resplendent smile.

"Has everything been checked yet?" You hugged the coat tighter to yourself, your gloved hands curling around the carriage handles. It was a frosty day—the cold wind was butter and billowed about, seeping through the wooly material of your clothes. "We need to make sure we have everything. We cannot afford to go back here once we have set out."

"Yes," Anya smiled. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. "And Lord Arion and Lady Chloe will help to keep track of things here whilst you are on your trips."

Then she winked. "Have fun, the two of you."

"I'm sorry...?"

"Well," Anya leaned in conspiratorially, "it may be a business trip, but in the end, it's just you and His Grace, isn't it?"

"Ah," your cheeks flushed immediately, shaking your head. You had immediately got at what she was hinting at. "It's purely professional."

More people would have come if not for the rule that the Northern Kingdom had set. It was a very secluded place—though they thrived, they allowed few visitors to enter, and those who did come were either foreign diplomats and dignitaries. Because of the deal that you had struck with Arthur Seraphim, you would get to visit the place to sign a few official documents.

"Doesn't mean you can't have fun," Anya softened, "seeing you today was like a dream. I haven't seen you so happy...since a very long time."

"Really?" You smiled lightly, "I haven't noticed."

Her words held a semblance of truth. Even that you couldn't deny. For the past few years, or for as long as you could remember, you had felt so pathetically small, so much like a sick, weak child. You were withering away then, your body a corpse and your soul trapped, confined—within a body that had a near expiry date. Perhaps it was the affection you had bottled up for Claude that was about to sour, perhaps it was your own feelings of resentment towards yourself you still held on. You had held on to your hatred for so long that there were claw marks ready to form.

Claude loved you. He loved you. Those three words; those three syllables were enough to make your heart swell. The cracks of it were still there, but at least now they were filled.

Stop punishing yourself for being someone with a heart. You cannot protect yourself from suffering. To live is to grieve. You are not protecting yourself by shutting yourself off from the world. You are limiting yourself, Y/n.

You had needed to hear that. Your inner child had needed to hear that so desperately.

"I suppose things have been going well with everything," You said wistfully, "alliances have been formed, Claude has been safe, and...I see the end to my goal. Of course, there is a lot more that has to be done—dealing with Nora Augusta, battling even—"

Fate. You didn't know when Sylvian Aetherous would appear. From what Natalie had told you, you had ignited the God's fury because of your existence. Your existence itself was a crime  and had broken Flow. But did that really matter? In the long run, you wished to see only one thing: for Claude to be crowned by your own blood-sodden fingers. It would be you who would feel the weight of the crown upon your fingers, and it would be Claude who would feel it upon his head.