"Father! Father!"
Eyes the color of the brightest cornflower looked up at the tall man they saw as "Father". With small hands, they showed a bundle of daisies. Giggles erupted from this small child as their father knelt down, smiling at the child enduringly.
"Mother would love these flowers, right?" The child pouted at the daisies. At their small feet was a small woven basket full of colorful flowers.
Their father nodded, reaching a hand out and petting their head, "Your mother will love any flower. Now, let's hurry back home. Dinner is almost going to be served."
Standing up, the man held a hand out to the child, waiting for them to pick up their basket. The child collected the flowers, grabbing the large hand.
As they walked through the rich valley, the child looked down at their white shirt. It was made of the softest of silk, almost glowing from the orange hues of the setting sun. A ruffled ascot tickled their chin. The child giggled again, "I'm so happy I don't have to wear those heavy shiny things!"
The child held their father's hand, continuing to talk about such innocent childish things. They pointed out butterflies fluttering by, complimenting the orange and pink rays of the setting sun, and skipped excitedly as they headed home.
Walking hand in hand, father and son, they truly resembled each other. Both with rich black hair and bright blue eyes. Warm lively smiles on their faces while they talked.
It was such a welcoming sight.
"Father?"
"Hm?"
The child looked up at him, blue eyes wide with anticipation. "How long will you be gone?"
"It'll be just a few days," He offered a smile. The father tapped his chin, clean shaven face feeling smooth against his finger. The man hummed, asking his child, "Would you like a gift from Scarabi? I'm sure I can find you something."
"Um," Their child pouted, looking at the basket of flowers, "I'm not sure. Can you get me a flower?"
"A flower?" He raised his eyebrow. Scarabi didn't really have any flowers... He'll have to go to the big cities for that. And he wasn't really planning on going there.
Their child nodded, "I want the prettiest flower you can find!" They showed the basket of flowers, waving the basket around. The child giggled, watching the flowers bounce around. "I want a flower for the garden you promised!"
Of course. The garden. He promised his child a beautiful garden, full of lavish flowers and elegant flowers. There would be roses, lilies, daisies, all sorts of flowers. Trees of oak and willow would loom over stone paths that wove around the garden. Butterflies and birds would fly around while squirrels scampered around.
A garden, just for them. A private family garden.
A place for their best times to be made, happy joyous memories.
"Alright, I'll get you a flower," He promised.
"The prettiest flower?"
"The prettiest. Now, let's hurry back to your mother, she'll be fretting where we are when dinner arrives." He teased, making his child giggle.
Blue eyes, the color of cornflowers.
He'll never forget those eyes. Eyes that looked at him with such admiration and love. Eyes that saw him as a hero.
"Father?"
"Yes?"
"As prince, I decree you as this kingdom's hero for bringing flowers!" Letting go of his hand, the child ran off laughing. The child looked back, waving the basket of flowers around.
The father smiled.
That smile on his son, it was brighter than any sun. More innocent than any dream.
As a father, he wanted nothing more than a moment like this.
...
Weeks. Weeks had gone by.
No sign of the king.
The king who had gone to Scarabi was missing.
His wife held their son, assuring him everything was okay.
...
One month later, and he reappeared.
As he trudged through the castle halls, the king kept a hardened stare. He glared at anybody who dared look his way.
The king looked... frazzled. Lost in anger and sadness. No one questioned why he was gone for so long. No one questioned by he suddenly appeared at the castle gates... alone.
The guards sent to be with him on his trip were gone.
The king entered his room, catching his wife off guard.
His wife, beautiful as always, stood up from the bed. She was wearing just a simple purple dress, her golden hair in waves down her back. The Queen looked at her husband, almost confused as to who this man was.
When she realized it was her love, the Queen gasped. She ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug.
"Where have you been? We've sent a Royal Hawk to King Jox but he didn't know where you were!" She worriedly exclaimed, looking at her husband in the eyes.
She was almost scared of what she saw.
His blue eyes.
They were so cold.
"Dear?" She gently caressed his cheek. He even felt so cold. "What happened?"
He simply held her hand against his cheek, empty eyes looking down at her. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke for the first time since getting back, "Where's our son?"
"In... In his room," She said.
When he let go, turning away and leaving, she didn't stop him.
There was something wrong with her husband.
The king quietly walked through the halls, making his way to the prince's room.
For the first time in his life, the king realized how quiet his castle was. How lonely and silent these halls are.
The door to his son's room stood there, intimidatingly.
Knocking before entering, the king drew open the door.
His son was there, sitting on the floor while drawing a paper. The prince looked up surprised, eyes wide when he saw his father there.
Shocked face immediately turning into joy, the boy jumped up and ran, almost slipping on the papers. He ran to his father, wrapping his arms around the man's legs.
"Father! You're finally home!"
"I am," His father smiled, petting the boy's soft hair. The man knelt down, reaching into a satchel he had on. The king withdrew a golden flower, the edges a bright orange. The middle was a pasty white, the petals rounded with the softest of edges. The flower itself felt silky smooth. The king smiled graciously, handing the flower to his son, "Here's the flower I promised, the most beautiful I could find."
The son gasped with excitement, gently taking the flower in his small pale hands. The prince adored the flower, tracing his fingers along with the petals. He smiled, showing a wide toothy grin. "Thank you, Father!"
His father smiled.
The young prince was distracted, admiring the small plant. He didn't take notice of the faint sadness and regret in his father's smile. A smile broken with self-loathing.
The son was surprised, yelping quietly when his father brought him into a tight hug. The young child could feel it. His father's shaking body.
"Promise me-" He listened, silently taking every word his father said in a trembling voice, "Promise me that you won't be like me. Live. Live for your mother and I."
Don't be like his father?
But Father was the best person he knows, aside from his mother of course.
Father was the strongest man in the land.
Why wouldn't he want to be just like his hero?
"Don't let my future become yours. Don't allow the past to pull you down. And don't ever forget to enjoy the present... Okay?" His father... was crying.
The king held his son close, knowing that a child wouldn't know what he was going on about. He knows that his son was too young to understand, too innocent. But... But it was better to tell him before it was too late.
Before he would fall into the pit of madness.
He never wants his son to never smile again. So he had to make his son promise.
"Please," The king pleaded, "Just promise me."
"I promise, Father," His child nodded into his shoulder before pulling away. He smiled, holding out a pinky, "I pinky promise!"
The king looked at the small finger, the brain now processing this small feat. He chuckled, deciding to play into this child's image.
He looped his finger around his son's.
The child smiled, chanting, "I promise, Father! Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye! Hehe!"
His father gave a short laugh, "You're so childish."
The boy giggled, jumping onto his father and hugging him as tightly as he could. The prince smiled into his father's chest, saying sweetly, "I love you, Father."
His father nodded, resting his chin in his son's dark hair. Closing his eyes, Faust softly responded with, "I love you too, Ezra."