𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝟎𝟑𝟗

a/n; updates will be a little slow, things in my life r a little busy - so I hope everyone understands! but on that note, don't worry, i will never abandon this fic. there are only 11 chapters til the conclusion, so go ahead and wonder if its going to be a sad or happy ending lol. maybe this will end in february, march, not too sure — but im juggling a lot of fics rn so woops

do vote on this chapter as if would greatly motivate me! comments aid with my motivation a lot too

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After a while, things had seemingly returned back to normal.

At least, that was how it appeared on the surface. A few weeks after the funeral had passed, things had more or less settled down — the servants stopped avoiding you out of caution or worry, Silas stopped having his fits of disappearances — and your father had vanished again. The Emperor had soon retreated back to whatever obscure shell he liked to remain in, and things were meant to be fine.

The headlines that had splashed on the newspapers had been overtaken by useless bits of news too, like how Lord Mark and Lady Ivory were engaged. Gone was the glaring, ugly words that read The Emperor and his son at odds; Butler's ex-wife dead: you were relieved to see that your dirty laundry was no longer being aired out for the whole world to see.

For you, yourself, you were desperately trying to be who you were before this whole mess. You caught yourself stumbling at times, forgetting that your mother was dead and that her body laid six feet under, cold and unmoving. But still, time moved on, and would not stop. Naturally, you could not constantly act like a petulant, stubborn child. You had to move on.

Silas made great efforts to aid you in that.

Like now, Silas was inviting you for a picnic.

The weather today was lovely and inviting, unlike the pelting, dismal weather that had accompanied your mood these past few days. You remembered Silas somewhat promising to bring you out for a picnic once, but that had been sorely forgotten in the light of things. Your brain had automatically switched to your mother — (she had always been the one preparing snacks to bring for the picnic, after all) — and you had made a classic, rookie mistake; you had forgotten that your mother was dead.

"We've got free time today," Silas had remarked, and you had caught the flicker of hope in his eyes, hoping that your dynamic with him would slide back to normal — "do you want to go out?"

"What do you mean," you had said, sceptical and quite tired from still having to manage details of your mother's funeral, "a date?"

Silas nodded. His posture and body language: everything softened and became sweet and saccharine when it came to you. You thought of the nervousness sequestered within him, pulsing through his veins as he studied your every move with great anxiety and eagerness to please. How ironic — he was scared of you. Scared of the rippling and hurtful anger you had displayed.