The Butterfly Bracelet [Yandere Prince x Female Reader]

31. Party of One.

While the festivities went on down in the heart of the castle, one man sat alone by the window of his tower room with only the faint sound of laughter and music that wafted in through the open window to keep him company along with a large bottle of wine.

Ilidoro took a swig straight from the neck of the bottle as he gazed out at the distant mountains that surrounded Vascini. He normally loved to savor the richness of wine on his tongue, but that night it tasted like nothing as his mind was somewhere else entirely. He wondered what Y/N was currently doing at the party. Was she just standing there all alone, or had she already hit it off with the prince? Ilidoro took another swig, hoping that the alcohol would distract him from his thoughts, or at least dull the pain of his aching heart, but it did nothing.

What if some perverse gentleman is trying to take advantage of Y/N? Ilidoro thought, clenching his fists in anger. Y/N was so kind he couldn't help but worry that some entitled Lord would try and manipulate her. Ilidoro's original plan was to escort Y/N from the shadows and make sure that no 'unwanted suitors' interfered with her night with the prince, but he had been forced to discard that plan when his own desire for Y/N reached the point where even imagining her talking to the prince was too much to bear. There was no way that Ilidoro could have endured the agony of watching her dance with the prince, it would have crushed him completely.

The edges of Ilidoro's mind were starting to feel fuzzy from the alcohol, but it wasn't enough. He drank deeply from the bottle, hoping in vain that it would cure him of his ailments. His heart burned within his chest and he tore the buttons holding his shirt closed open enough that he could place his hand directly over the place where his heart seared within him. He knew it was not an affliction of the flesh, but of the emotions. Even so, that didn't make it any less painful, or any less real.

"Why-Why did I have to fall in love again? Why did I have to love you Y/N?" Ilidoro asked the cool night air, not expecting a response. He went to take another drink of wine but spilled some of it down his chin when someone answered his question in a voice as void of warmth as the night breeze drifting in through the window, "You didn't have to love her. You choose to, Ilidoro."

Ilidoro whirled around, not believing his ears. His breath caught in his throat as his slightly unfocused vision landed on the familiar figure of a beautiful woman standing in the pale light of the fullmoon pooling on the floor from the only window. He staggered back into the wall, unable to accept what he was seeing. "A-Abela, my love?" He croaked out in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh, so now I'm 'your love'," she scoffed, cackling cruelty at the look of pain and confusion on Ilidoro's face. She tossed her head of rich blonde hair proudly and glared at Ilidoro. "what about Y/N? Poor, naive, kindhearted little Y/N. Do you call her 'my love' when no one else is listening too, just like how you used to me?"

Ilidoro had his back pressed firmly against the wall, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. His past sins, or perhaps his continence, had caught up with him at last. Tears pricked at the corner of Ilidoro's eyes as he continued to gaze upon the face of the first woman he ever loved. "How, are you here? How do you know about Y/N?! You are supposed to be lying asleep in a hospital bed in Luccia like you have been for the past five years."

"Yes, I know, 'supposed to'. You would like it if I stayed sleeping forever, that way you could continue to love Y/N with a clean conscience. But what if I woke up? What would happen then? Do you even love me anymore?" Abela bit back at Ilidoro, taking a dainty step towards him. It was at that moment, Ilidoro realized that her foot made no sound as she walked. Looking closer, he saw that he could just barely see through her to the wall behind her, and he suddenly knew that she wasn't really there. She was simply a figment conjured up by a guilty conscience and alcohol.