A/N: Please refrain from making guesses on the names in the [] during Athanase's flashbacks because not every character in this story has been introduced yet and it's meant to show that Athan doesn't know that very detail.
I will be deleting comments on those stating what the [blanks] are meant to be, unless the commenter explicitly states that it's a speculation on what's being said. I will not be confirming or denying anything as it'll be clarified within the story itself, and it's simply a means of preventing further misunderstanding for the time being.
I understand that things may seem confusing right now, but Athan's memories are directly tied to the story progression, hence why there are recurring quotes.
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Asking Felix goes as well as he expects.
While Felix did agree that it would be dangerous to leave Obelia just to observe the Hunting Competition, and he wasn't very eager to allow Athan to see blood so early in his life, which amused Athan to no end — he's seen more blood than anyone would ever expect, especially when he was born a girl in his second life.
.
(An image of blood seeping into concrete briefly flickers in his mind, a dainty and slender hand stained in blood splatter, the image of a man murmuring words as he coughs up blood.
He saw the images disappearing so quickly that it made him wonder if he truly ever saw such a sight.
Athanase ignores the unsettling imagery.)
.
However, the difference between Claude and Felix was that Felix was much more open-minded and sociable. In fact, he very much advocated for him and his sister to have friends and be allowed to interact with other children their age, and he continues to do so even to this day. His sister didn't care much for leaving Obelia to see Arlanta, so it seemed obvious that Felix would end up accompanying Athan if they were to leave.
His father still didn't want him to go, so it was only a matter of wearing him down.
On one hand, Athanase was relieved that he'll be able to leave with the delegation to Arlanta (ignoring his father's displeasure in letting him leave and the fact that he still doesn't have permission to go), but on the other hand, he felt a bit disappointed in the fact that Felix didn't explicitly choose him over his sister.
.
("I'll always protect you.")
. . .
In the end, it was better this way, he thinks, because he doesn't know whether or not he would be happy to know the answer.
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'Why do I have to accompany you to the Milford Family's Estate?' Verena thought, sitting across from him in the carriage. Felix was sitting beside him, a nervous smile on his face as Verena adamantly avoided making eye contact with the knight in question. 'You don't need me!'
The three of them were heading to Marquess Milford's Estate — probably because he voiced his desire to leave the palace grounds. Perhaps his father was hoping that this would get him to drop the topic, thinking he would get sick of being inside a carriage?
Well, Athan supposes that he'll have to persistently bother his father about it later, once his father grew accustomed to Athan being gone once every day or so.
'You're just sulking because Felix is here as my guard and chaperone,' he flatly thought back to Autumn.
'I had a plan, my dear, a long-term plan,' Verena returned his flat look with a pout. 'If I'm gonna be trying to marry the Duke, how could I possibly let his son know I have a thing for older men and women? What if it turns into a situation where my future stepson hates me?!'
'...'
'What?'
'I didn't say anything.'
'You didn't, but I could certainly feel the judging stare!'
'Well, Autumn, you should cut your losses with Felix's dad. We're both children, and he could hypothetically be a grandfather by now if Felix was like Claude and had a kid out of wedlock. It'll never work out.'
'That, my dear friend, is very hurtful,' Verena frowned, turning her head as she stared out the window. 'You'd agree that he's perfect for me once you have the chance to meet him!'
Ah, yes, denial. Truly the most tiring of the five stages of grief for him to be confronted with.
'Stop frowning at me, you're giving Felix anxiety here and it's stressing me out.'
'I could say the same thing about your glaring,' she huffed, her statement causing Athanase to blink.
'Was I glaring at you...?'
'You're more similar to your father than you think,' Verena mentally shrugged.
Upon hearing the thought, Athanase frowned. He's not quite sure if he was happy about the statement. In fact, he couldn't really see it.
All of a sudden, he feels a sharp pain aching in his head.
"Your Highness!" Felix shouted with an alarmed tone, placing his hands on Athan's shoulder to steady the boy.
"Prince Athanasios!" Verena cried, worry clear in her eyes.
His vision cuts off.
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As always, he dreams, and dreams.
Sometimes it's simple.
.
There is an image of his sister staring at her reflection in a fountain found in the field of flowers. She is seated on the fountain, a soft yet forlorn expression on her face.
There was yearning for something.
Something more, perhaps.
.
And there are moments that border on complicated, because he doesn't remember.
.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're overreacting," a young maiden giggles, her fingers running through his hair as he rests his head on her lap. The bright sunshine obscures her face, but he can tell she was smiling from the curve of her lips.
"You too, [][][][][][]?" he grumbles, frowning as he turns his head. "It's an important matter — I thought you wouldn't dismiss my concerns at the very least."
"Oh, my beloved noble," the young maiden murmured softly, her fingers brushing away the black hair covering his eyes. "Why must you fret when you have me?"
He sighs and relaxes upon hearing that, closing his eyes.
"I will always be on your side, my dear [][][][][][][][]."
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(And, he thinks, maybe, the real tragedy of Athanasios is that he knows nothing in the end.)
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He's floating, drifting as he wanders through the unfamiliar-yet-familiar halls. A maid bows at him with respect before scurrying away like a mouse trying to hide. His steps clack with every sound of his shoe against the carpet floor until he stops before a door.
Yet another sight that should've been unfamiliar, and yet the door makes him feel quiet and anxious.
The soft click of the turning doorknob, the quiet shuffle as he enters the room, hand lingering on the cold metal as he closes the door. Silence fills the room, and he maintains a neutral expression as he steps forward, further into the room.
It was very... bright, he thought with an inward grimace, gaze drawn to the windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, with its pink curtains drawn back with careless regard. Everything was very colourful, when he glances out the window and catches sight of the swaying field of flowers and the fluttering grass.
That... was new. He frowns.
"Isn't it beautiful, my dove?" comes a young voice, gentle and soft and having been spoken to him in quite the familiar tone.
Not many people dared to. Some may think it as insolent of the speaker, but his shoulders relax upon hearing that voice, as if it were a soothing melody.
He turns his gaze over to the bed within the room, the silhouette of a young lady showing through the white bed curtains. She remained seated beneath the bed covers, and the thick gauze of the curtains obscured any notable details of the young maiden.
"I was missing our picnics in the flower fields," she admits, and he can tell that she's not very happy, but it wasn't because of him. "[][][][][][][] had the gardeners replace all the bushes with flowers yesterday — he asked why should I leave the safety of my room, when he could simply bring the sight of flowers to me."
In some cases, that would've been considered a very kind and sweet gesture.
This was not one of them.
"Is that so?" he quietly asked, drawing the pink curtains closed to dim as much of the bright light as he could. The curtains slide with a metal skid, and he wryly smiles. "Truly, your [][][][][][][] indeed cares about your wellbeing, but there is a limit to his naïvety and wilful ignorance," he dryly comments, taking slow strides over to the armchair at the girl's bedside. It was cold, as if no one had dared to sit and keep the bedridden lady company.
Her face was obscured, but he can tell that his statement made her smile.
"A pity, isn't it?" she asks, her tone sounding rather disdainful. "Such a pretty sight, but it would never last for long."
He says no more, only placing a hand over her pale, slender one that rests atop the soft blankets.
"I wonder," the lady wearily sighed to him. "How do you ever handle it? You have a family who cares for you, a pushover with no desire to fight for the throne, and the other who remains clueless to how you feel, who carries on as though everything were a mere fairytale?"
"It's enough for me that you understand," he simply stated, bringing her hand to his lips as he pressed a kiss to her cold skin. "I've no need for their care, when none matter as much as you."
"How charming," the young maiden stifled a giggle, and after a moment of calm silence, he tried to rub her hand warm. She was too cold, much too cold for his liking.
"You really ought to wear gloves more often," he stated, though he knows that she will take no heed.
"What does it matter to the [][][][][]?" she asks in a simple tone with an air of uncaring observation. "Like those flowers, I'm a pretty sight, but I, too, shall [][][][][][] much too soon. It's only a matter of when that might be."
And it was the truth — they both knew that it was approaching, no matter how everyone around her was in denial.
"What was my [][][][][][] thinking?" she continued with a sigh, sounding rather defeated. "And how could they just replace everything in the garden with flowers? Magic can only maintain life for so long, and one will have to wonder when it will end. How cruel of them, to replace everything with a pretty view, even though it's a life that will soon shrivel up and wither away. A hideously futile attempt, I'm sure."
Like her, were the words left unsaid, she, too, will [][][][][][] away.
"Even so," he said, eyes softening as he smiled, "every moment of that life is magnificent to me. My flower who joyfully speaks to me with unrestrained glee, who pouts rather childishly as she complains, who sobs until her eyes turn bloodshot red, who yells in a frightening fury even when her voice becomes hoarse — every moment together spent with you has always been genuine in my eyes. Hideous? Beautiful? It all matters not, for I will remember every moment spent together with fondness, no matter how fleeting, and still I shall think of you dearly until next we meet."
The person behind the curtains shifted, as though she were leaning closer.
"My beloved [][][][][][][][]," the young maiden softly spoke. "You truly are my eternal symbol of love. I'm blessed to be so dearly cared for, but you mustn't utter such words so easily as though you are one of my foolish suitors."
"Are the words from my heart burdensome?" he asks, voice gentle as her fingers shakily intertwine with his.
"No," she readily states with absolute certainty. "But it is a curse to you, my dove. For the day I [][][][] from this world, you will never truly forget me — you cannot, nor will I ever let you — you'll be left with the painful memories of my existence, and know that I [][][][] with my heart in your hands, and a piece of yours in mine."
"If this love is a curse, then I would gladly be scorned and burned in hell," he states, "All I wish is for your happiness to the very end, whenever that may be."
She smiles, the curtains raising enough to show pale and chapped lips graced in a smile.
"It's a pity that you—"
.
("—Maybe next time.")
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He wakes up, gasping for breath yet choking on the quick intake of air. He coughs, the scene flashing through his mind as he cries, and cries, and cries.
"Your Highness!" Verena cried.
Athanase struggles to breathe, wide watery eyes frantically looking at his surroundings.
The room was similar to the one in his — present, future, past — dream, and wasn't that just all the more alarming?
"Tell me everything you remember," he gasped, a touch of desperation in his voice. "Did the prince ever end up with anyone?"
"Why do you ask?" Verena frowned, bringing out her handkerchief to wipe away the tears. "Did something happen?"
He was crying.
When did he start crying?
"I need to know," he stated, voice shaking as his skin crawls. He feels like a stranger in his own body, almost like an uninvited guest to a housewarming party. "You told me before that Athanasios doesn't end up with anyone. Are you absolutely sure?"
She was taken aback by the statement, and he stares back at her with knitted brows.
"That's because he doesn't end up with anyone," Verena said, looking at him as if he was someone else.
Maybe he — will be, won't be, is — was.
.
("If this love is a curse, then I would gladly be scorned and burned in hell.")
.
"You're lying to me," he accused, feeling a sudden burst of anger.
Verena blinked, startled by the accusation.
"I really didn't write anything apart from the love triangle with..." Verena trailed off, her eyes glancing to the side warily before looking back at him. "With the Duke's son, the fiancée, and the Prince, and even then, the Prince doesn't even have a first kiss. Any other pairing I considered for the Prince were only kept as ideas, otherwise I might as well have gone with the harem route which I never even thought would be an option. Why do you think I'm lying, Your Highness? Did you remember something that I know nothing of?"
He faltered, his heart sinking. Why did he accuse her of lying?
Maybe he was finally going crazy.
Was it stress...? Fatigue?
"...my dreams are all over the place right now," he shakes his head, his shoulders slumping as he closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, Verena, I'll tell you about it another time."
There's a moment of silence, and Verena says nothing in response, but he hears a sharp gasp.
His eyes snapped open immediately once the realization hit.
Did he just...?
He called her Verena.
Looking at the girl, she stares at him with hurt clear in her eyes. She definitely noticed.
After finding out that his best friend from his previous life reincarnated with him, he never once called her Verena unless they were in the presence of others. Just like how she has never once called him Athanasios in private, he had never slipped up.
He had never slipped up... until now.
"I... I'm sorry—"
"—Don't," Autumn harshly spoke in a strained voice before frowning and trying to speak calmly. "Don't apologize to me, please," she says in a softer tone, though it was clear that she was still upset, because she wasn't Verena, no matter the appearance. "I don't know what's going through your mind right now, but you're my best friend. You know you can tell me anything, right?"
.
("Why couldn't you trust me to have your back?")
.
He tries to swallow the lump in his throat.
"I know."
. . .
It feels an awful lot like a lie.
.
("If you're scared, then... should we die together?"
. . .
"I have always hated you the most."
. . .
"Maybe next time.")
. . .
"Um..." a familiar voice hesitantly speaks up.
Athanase freezes before looking up at Autumn with wide, panicked eyes. His best friend winces, confirming his suspicions.
'I tried to warn you,' Autumn closed her eyes, genuinely apologetic. 'I think you were too distraught to actually notice.'
"What... exactly are you both referring to?" Felix asked.
Fuck.