❝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴. ❞
Park Ye-jun was a quiet kid. Smart, but reclusive. And one in his life was his eter...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
she was a beautiful flower
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
for which he always sang
༻𖥸༺
IT WAS ROUTINE BY NOW, to either sit down on the floor in the memorial hall and stare up at one portrait in particular, or simply plop himself in the Silver Palace and allow himself to be consumed by memories and thoughts一things that he often suppressed as to not hinder his busy days came out with such ease that he wondered if he should see a psychiatrist. (Not that therapy existed in this universe, but the principle of the matter still stood.)
Visiting Lucille Di Saint's former palace brought about a sense of nostalgia and sadness, because this woman gave her life for him. He felt grateful for her sacrifice, thinking that yes, this woman that he never met一his mother一was the sole person that managed to completely break down Claude's icy walls and entrance his soul.
(Not many knew, but it wasn't Lucille that approached his father. It was actually the other way around, as said by none other than Felix.)
Madam Iris told him stories一embarrassing ones, because he needed some dirt on his dad一of how Claude used to follow his mother around like a lost puppy, watching with fascination as she brought to completion her everyday routine.
He actually found it endearing. Because in spite of how much Claude seemed to be smitten for Diana, he felt content to know that the only person that truly held his heart was his mother.
What attracted his father to the Siodonnian was the allure of innocence and unrestricted kindness that she projected to those around her.
But Lucille was different. She had never directly met the prince and, one day, she woke up with him on her doorstep. And just like the teenager that he was, his affections were awkward but sincere. He loved not only her beauty, but her mind and attitude as well. (Athan knew he was being biased, but he honestly did not give a shit.)
And then there were times like now, when he simply sat down on the red carpet in the memorial hall, leaning back on Biyakko and gazing up at the beautifully done painting, admiring the craftsmanship put into every single detail of his mother's portrait.
Underneath the giant portrait, a golden plaque with perfectly intricate letters said the minimum of information needed for any possible guests in the main palace. (Any and all personal details were recorded in the imperial archives and were only accessible by Blue Obelian lineage.)
He felt as sense of recognition and a semblance of melancholic respect when he sat in the golden hall, under the watchful gaze of his mother's portrait, because she too sacrificed her life for a person that she loved.
Hands running through the soft fur of his familiar, jeweled eyes glancing with warmth only reserved for his father at the woman whose eyes mirrored a forest in full spring bloom.
"Hello mother." The tired voice of a twelve year old echoed in the empty hall, uncharacteristic for a child his age and the constant purring from the slumbering tiger was doing a very good job at lulling him to sleep. "It's been a while, no?"
And so began his story, weaving intricate moments in a warm light, telling his mother about the moments he shared with his father and attendants.
"一Dad was really miffed by that, you know?" The fond chuckle was pushed back by the emergence of a teary-eyed yawn.
His humming suddenly filled the silent space, a soft sounding melody leaving past his lips, a song he reserved only for moments spent before this painting.
Soon enough, the young Prince had fallen asleep, features softening as he rested atop his mana beast and rays of light filtering through the drapes, casting the platinum blonde in a warm golden hue.
────────────────────────
IJEKIEL ALPHEUS WAS A KIND BOY, mature and intelligent and of high standing to boot, but he was also bored. As any young noble, he knew how to conduct himself when entering the imperial palace, but he was also a child一more peculiar than others, but a child nonetheless.
His father suggested to explore the palace, the accessible parts that is. And as much as he was entranced by the marvelous architecture, it was beginning to get repetitive.
That was how he found himself standing in the memorial hall, golden eyes instantly falling over the form of a preteen, a few years older than him, laying down on a mass of white and black fur, in front of the former empress's portrait.
(A mother watching over her son.)
Ijekiel had never seen the crown prince, but it wasn't that much of a brainteaser to figure out who this boy was. A wild head of platinum blonde hair over a face that resembled the emperor to a 'T', dressed in white and blue silks with golden embroidery一he had no need to see the inherited jeweled blue eyes.
'Why is the prince here?' He dare not step closer and wake the royal, for the mass of furs raised its head and watched him with scrutinising and wary eyes filled with murderous promises.
Steps from down the hall made him turn around, an armoured knight wearing the symbol of the crown prince一a blue star clasp holding his mantle together一coming to stand by him, bowing his head in a polite greeting, barely masking his suspicion at the current predicament.
"Young lord Alpheus, I ask that you leave the Crown Prince in the privacy of the Memorial Hall."
Why, he wanted to ask, but he knew better than to question the words of a personally assigned knight of the prince. His golden eyes glanced at the green haired man and simply nodded.
And so, guided be the yellow eyed knight and a last wayward glance back at the slumbering prince, Ijekiel left with a lingering question ever-present.
