20一 flowers as an afterthought to these bitter tears
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The truth is this, every monster you have met or will ever meet, was once a human being with a soul that was as soft and light as silk.
Someone stole that silk from their soul and turned their light into this.
So when you see a monster next, always remember this. Do not fear the thing before you. Fear the thing that created it instead.
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POLITICALLY SPEAKING, OBELIA WAS a powerhouse when it came to forging international connections and seizing the opportunity to claim land and expand its territories. While wars were less common nowadays, that did not mean the battlefield hadn't warped and transitioned into something else.
When it came to taking control over the direction in which negotiations went, Obelia's heir had an uncanny ability to twist and manipulate things in his favor. The prince always entered the room of representatives seconded by his uncle (who was actually his cousin twice removed but the redhead was old enough to be his father), a man who had effortlessly instilled fear into Obelia's politicians.
Today, however, the person present in His Highness' place in the meeting room was not his Regent Head, but his Magistrate. Gregory Alancia was the furthest thing from nobility as one could get, yet his impeccable scholarly lineage more than made up for that 一quote-on-quote一 stain on his resume.
Dark teal hair parted to the sides to show narrowed, piercing yellow eyes that closely resembled the sun's glare and a closed off face一 that's how Sir Alancia usually presented himself in front of His Highness' not quite subordinates.
Tapping the stack of papers against that table at which they were seated, Gregory inclined his head towards the people present in the room and moved to stand. "This will be all. Continue as planned with the preparations for our future guests."
Sweeping the floor in five long strides, the Prince's aide exited the room and made to head for the main office in the Sapphire Palace when a maid accosted him in the hallway.
Bowing her head, the navy haired woman informed him, "Lord Atropos is waiting for you to join him in the Angelic garden."
A sigh passed the young man's lips as his hand pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lead the way."
Gregory would confess to not liking His Highness' uncle and had made his opinion quite well known, yet, in spite of his deprecated thoughts on the red haired man, the Magistrate could quite easily admit to holding great respect for the Regent Head, unsavory personality notwithstanding.
White flowers greeted him from under the embrace of the shining sun, the garden acting as a mere backdrop for the red haired man seated at the table carefully placed under the shade of the apple trees. In elegant movements, Atropos had his teacup placed back on its saucer, his green eyes gliding to stare at him as his hand gestures to the chair planted opposite of him.
The smile on the older man's face should be more of a warning to run in the other direction as far as your feet can take you, but Gregory has grown immune to the cathartic effects the red head has on his health. So he seats himself on the offered chair, his face the very definition of patience as he samples the tea. A favourite blend of His Highness', hm? He is not overly concerned with what Atropos has to tell him, given the lack of haste.
"Angel trumpets." The Saint Regent hums, forest green eyes trained on the white flowers surrounding them. "They were my cousin's favourite flowers." That Gregory knows, it is common knowledge among those who work for the prince. And the rule regarding this flower was law一 to never defile their petals. "Lucy loved them because of how seemingly innocent they appear to be." It wasn't a shock, far from it really. Her Majesty had loved this poisonous flower as she felt it personally represented her.
Placing his cup down, yellow eyes glared into spring green. "I hope you're getting somewhere with this line of thought."
His older counterpart just smiles. It is as empty and cold as the imperial cells. "Not really." The older admits nonchalantly. "I was reminiscing, is all."
Gregory does not feel like he has to reply to that, so he doesn't. Instead he shoves a few papers in Atropos' face and leans back in his chair. "About the representatives coming in from Xekch." He clarifies, yellow eyes closing as he tilts his head to the sky.
"The merchants?" There's a brief shuffling of papers, but the question is rhetorical at best so he keeps his silence. "You're a joy to be around, you know that?"
"I am aware."
Atropos laughs, his gloved hands pushing back red bangs from his face and dew green eyes glowing in mirth. "You really are a breath of fresh air Gregory."
Confusion lines the younger's face as he opens his eyes to stare at his companion. "It is usually implied that I am quite the opposite." He tilts his head, dark teal hair swaying with the movement.
"After the week I've had, you truly are."
Gregory hums noncommittally, mind conjuring ten different questions to ask but none are appropriate for the setting and atmosphere they currently have. So he buries them in an ongoing list to be asked at a later date. There will be opportunities to do so another time.
"Rohan sent word." Atropos casually adds as Gregory lifts the teacup to his lips. "He says that his sister is on her way to the capital."
The younger of the two is a fraction of a moment away from dropping his tea on the grass, yet catches himself before he could act on his momentary blunder. The distaste on his face must be quite obvious, given the look that the red haired man sends him. It's a look full of reluctant understanding, one that could only come from a fellow sufferer of Miss Cassiopeia's presence.
Heaving a sigh that he hopes conveys every ounce of frustration, the younger of the two pinches the bridge of his nose. "Has he mentioned when she is set to arrive?"
Atropos just gives him a glance full of questions, but relents the answer. "Given that His Grace said that she was long gone when he returned to his domain, any day now."
Gregory... Gregory didn't know how to feel about that tidbit of information. On the one hand, he couldn't blame the Duke for having his message received this late, given the distance from his territory to the capital and other previous engagements. On the other hand, Gregory wanted to irrationally smash something. Then preferably set it on fire afterwards. But that would be counterproductive when dealing with the issues at hand and so he discarded those thoughts.
"Shall we, say, inform the Madam?" That was it. That was the only solution he had to this problem that wouldn't require him to come up with contingencies in case he ended up murdering a daughter of Banafrit.
"Hoh?" He really didn't like the mocking tilt the older had in his voice.
Respect for the man he may have, as well as a vague sense of comradery, but like him he didn't. It may also be the fact that the red head was older than him by a good two decades, but, then again, he didn't have any issues with Sir Claes who was in the same age-range as Atropos.
Funny that everyone that frequented His Highness' inner circle of power was a good ways older than the prince.
"I like that idea. We get to see Dear Iris verbally eviscerate an annoyance and we don't have to deal with a young lady's mental breakdown." The Regent Head shrugged indifferently, yet the not-quite smirk on his face spoke differently. "I see this as an absolute win."
Well, Gregory reluctantly mused, it was a plan as good as any.
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"YOUR HIGHNESS, PLEASE COME IN. We do not want to risk a cold."
Pale sunshine hair glittered with fallen snowflakes, the meager light of the northern sun reflecting quite beautifully with even the tiniest move the young man made. In spite of the artistic picture the prince made, Hector couldn't help but ignore it all in favour of focusing on the dark circles marring Athanasius' skin. He wanted to be more assertive in this situation, yet the small, content, boyish smile the younger had on stayed his tongue.
(When was the last time His Highness was this relaxed?)
It's been over half a year since their arrival at the temple and the prince had crammed over a year's worth of work in just six months. While that in itself was impressive, it also spoke of some, quite worrying, self-destructive behaviour that had to be corrected as soon as possible. As such, Kassian had put the prince on bed rest for an indefinite amount of time.
While His Highness had been miffed at the older knight's mother-henning, he was also reproachfully resigned to his current situation.
Hector had been sent to keep an eye on Athan for the day, and while the prince wasn't allowed outside in this freezing temperature, the knight didn't have the heart to drag him back inside.
"It's snowing Hector!" The prince smile brightly, the thick blanket draped over his shoulders slipping a bit at his beast's curious movement. "Snowing!" He emphasized, as if he hadn't heard it the first time.
Well, given Obelia's regular climate, it wasn't out of expectation that the blond boy had never seen snow in his life. "Is it your first time seeing it?" The knight asked, genuinely curious.
The younger's smile took a nostalgic edge as his jeweled eyes turned back to look at the sky. "It's my first time seeing real snow. Father conjured some for me when I was younger." The fond lilt of his voice was more than obvious. "He turned the gardens in a wintery wonderland一 it frustrated the gardeners who had to clean it up."
Hector watched as the royal huffed a laugh, gloved hands coming up to tangle in his pet's black and white fur. The black haired knight looked with barely veiled frustration at the pure white gloves. Kassian had clued him in on the why of those gloves' existence and the junior imperial knight could genuinely say that he shared his senior's thoughts on the matter.
His Majesty didn't know of that issue, courtesy of Madam Iris' words of 'he will worry even more about the boy', which, fair enough. Emperor Claude was the epicenter of Prince Athanasius' emotional support group, whose decision overruled everyone else's. He was also the person who could order his son to take a break from everything, no matter the situation. But the issue of that was that they needed His Highness to be on top of things.
However, the toll of everything snowballed into too much and His Highness collapsed after his own stubbornness and sheer spite for everything kept him going until the most pressing task was handled. It was an important lesson that Kassian made sure to be sent back to their allies in the capital. (If that also meant that Madam Iris was going to be insufferable about the prince's health, then that wasn't his problem.)
"Your Highness, it's getting late." He called out to the figure standing beyond the balcony's doors. "The night will be much colder. Please come inside."
The prince just hummed, yet he didn't make a move to indicate that he heard him beyond that. Was he being stubborn? Or was he playing with Hector? It could be either one. The blue eyed knight still couldn't tell the difference, no matter how long of a time he's been spending around his ward.
"Hector?"
"Yes Your Highness?"
"Do you want to hear about the time when Kassian almost stabbed my uncle?"
Kassian? Calm, collected and laid back Kassian? "Of course my prince."
Athanasius beamed. "Brilliant."
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Lost is not a place. It's a soul in paralysis... waiting to feel moved.
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Gregory was mentioned in Chapter 16. This is a reference picture:
I was bored a few days ago and I made a playlist on Spotify with music that I feel best describes Athan.
Here's the scannable picture,
And here's the link:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2IAqnHGKOq7NiWOGSpaMjh?si=CWKHtdNERZOSFWfSt269WA&utm_source=copy-link
I hope you guys will enjoy it!
I also really hate the fact that I was cursed by the gods to always find the sketchiest shit on the internet.
I'm putting this here because I want y'all to share my suffering 💃🏻✨🤌
Aight, I'mma dip. ✌️