𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝟎𝟒𝟎

a/n; it's been a while </3 things have been crazy busy and will continue to be, so please have mercy. also, some parts of this chapter was written months back while the other parts of this chapter was written yesterday and today, so things might be weird!

that said, do vote and comment as it would greatly motivate me!

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People forget things easily. Or perhaps it would be better to say that people who do not care forget things easily.

Just like how things settled down a few weeks after your mother's funeral, similarly, people started to forget that she had even died — that you had lost a mother. Grief wounded people irreversibly, and yet from the way they chatted with you — from the way they spoke with you — it seemed that they had completely forgotten that just a month ago, you had been inconsolable and grieving.

Not that you really cared anymore, of course. Over time, you realised that the feelings within you — some others didn't have much of it. You envied them, because you wondered what it was like to cruise through life not caring about a single thing — about how others perceived you, about the plight of others, about every little action you took.

You were well aware that you first started as an extrovert. You, from young, had always liked speaking to different people, starting conversations — being surrounded by a crowd. But as time went on, you grew more anxious: you avoided conversations, knowing that you would only overthink them later — you kept your distance from people, wishing that you would be able to talk to them like you did as a child — but it never happened. Instead, you kept to yourself, only occasionally popping out to the kitchen to prepare tea for Silas or to talk with Kate and Raye.

You spent your days drowning in work, drowning in Silas. His touch was your anchor, your addiction, your desire: you clung onto him, you humored him, and you tried desperately to banish all thoughts of the curse. Silas and you had survived this rocky moment — your love would prevail, the curse wouldn't happen, and your father —

Oh.

Right.

Your father.

The word father was something too kind for him. He didn't deserve that title, nor after he ruthlessly left your crumpled form after departing the news of your mother's death. He deserved very little, you thought, but truthfully, he also didn't deserve being treated so badly by the Emperor. Their dynamic — their relationship — was still a mystery that you would not be able to solve.

The Emperor hated your mother, that much was clear. And he loved your father. That was an odd thing to realize, and you occasionally wondered just what had happened between those three that led to such a messy end. They were all majorly imperfect, you knew: your mother had her moments, and so did your father, and especially the Emperor. You weren't perfect, either — you would beg to differ: and Silas himself was flawed in many ways.