I am late... second prompt is Loneliness.
This place was not supposed to be lonely.
These halls were not supposed to swallow her breaths with their cavernous darkness. The pillars were not supposed to be silent sentinels oblivious to her grief. The blooming gardens were supposed to be bright, cheerful, welcoming—not a stab to the heart and a rock in the throat.
There is nowhere she can go to escape the loneliness. No where she can hide where it won't creep on her. Because every hiding place, every nook, every cranny of this place is filled with the emptiness of him. The fact that he isn't there. They mapped this whole place, hand in hand, found its secrets and shared them; there was nothing in this palace that they did not find together.
She can pull herself into a vase to hide her tears from pitying gazes, but it becomes gaping empty around her from the lack of him pressed awkwardly against her, limbs tangled together. She can climb to the roof and try to reach for the stars for solace but it will be only be stained with the fact that he is not there lying on the cool stones beside her. She can snuggle herself into the corner of the kitchen behind the flour bags and try to drown herself in the scents that no longer interest her but he is not there snuggled beside her ready to perform their daring plan to steal all of the honey cakes.
The palace is made of loneliness, now. Without his warmth at her side or his half-hearted moaning when she snuck him out of classes or his exasperated smile every time she did something huge and loud and reckless that quickly turned into an excited smile because he wanted to join in now—without all of that, this place was...
Nothing.
Empty.
A palace built on the stones of loneliness and loss. A palace as wide and cavernous and empty as the hole growing in her heart.
There isn't an escape. How long will it be before this breaks her? Before she is dashed against the cornerstones of grief and internal screaming and pain and heartache? She can't live in this lonely palace. But there is nowhere else for her to go.
So she waits. She scales the vines to his balcony and clambers over the railing and slides into the cool darkness of his room with the door locked because not even Set can bring himself to go in there even though technically these should be his quarters now. She crawls into his cold, unused bed, pretends that lump in the covers is him and she's just had a bad dream about him being gone and she's coming to snuggle with him like she always does when she has a bad dream. She pulls herself under the covers and buries her head beneath the pillow and breathes in the fading remains of his scent and wishes wishes wishes.
Someday, will this palace be made of laughter and happiness once again?