To a damaged soul;
Have you ever wondered how you'd be if you were born in a perfect world?
But, as sad as it is, there is no perfect world.
Tell me, my son, what defines perfection?
朱光 からの不思議, a person who was before your mother.
…………………...
Answer me this, oh child with the name of the primordial deity of love:
What does it mean to be loved? To love, to care, to yearn for someone else.
I am not discussing romantic, or what one would say 'sexual' 'lust' Love.
I assume you have little to no understanding of what average 'love' should be. Ah, as you assumed that I, your dear mother, loved you. But Eros, is a mother's love one that is her strength to feed her baby in a tired night? Is it a powerful instinct to protect her young one's mind, soul, and body? Or is it the slight moment where she would study her baby's sleeping face and kiss them goodnight?
Oh, I wonder. Is it, my Eros, the heavy determination to save her child's life before her's?
You are not Claude, you will understand her reasons for her death. And that you cannot stop her sacrifice.
belles paroles d'Eden, a person who was before your mother.
…………………...
A golden blond woman stepped elegantly along the marbleath to the Crown Prince's room in the Sapphire palace. The intricate gem-ed designs along the walls and the ancient paintings of the ancestry of the royal family lined on top of expensive Lincrusta doesn't matter to her. All that concerned her was the rumors of a prince that locked himself in his room for three days straight that even reached the concubines' maids gossip.
'What if he's crying all alone, sitting near the window, staring blankly out the raining clouds(the royal palace rarely rains) in sadness?' Diana thought worriedly, as she knocked on the large golden doors to her stepson's bedroom. "Prince Eros?" She called. "It is Diana, will you allow me to see you?"
Diana could hear any footsteps seeping out from the thick walls and door, but she imagined a tiny prince walking to the door, as the door opened, revealing platinum curls, cerulean eyes, and a pout on a royal toddler's lips. "Diana, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting. "
She laughed, arm reaching to pat the little prince's head, but she stopped herself. She coughed, caring ruby eyes looked down at his highness. "Eros, shouldn't we sit on a proper chair? It isn't all that polite to let a pregnant woman stand." She teased light-heartedly.
But as expected, Eros took it very seriously. He nodded, widened the door and swiftly ordered his maids to prepare a table to serve him and Diana tea. Sitting there, in front of her, his jeweled eyes staring blankly at the woman, and yet.
And yet.
He...looks helpless.
There were no obvious signs of despair. No eyebags. His skintone wasn't too pale. His clothes weren't as extravagant as it could be, but still elegant nonetheless. His platinum curls were perfect. Beautiful.
But Diana knew.
Her hand reached for Eros', placing it above. "Eros," she said gently. "I'm sorry." She said once again.
Diana expected Eros to turn away, to shield his true expression. But he stared right back into her Ruby eyes, not answering.
She sighed softly. "Do you wish for me to choose myself instead of your little sister?"
"No." He replied immediately, surprising Diana. "I wish you both to live. " Then, he faltered, his grip of his tea cup tightened, his fingers whitened. Head lowering just slightly, he asked pointlessly, "why can't you both live?"
Somehow, his eyes seemed to look even more like jewels. Tears glazed his pupils, but he blinked it away.
A desperate and soon to be lonely child. That is what Diana saw of the Crown Prince of The Obelia Empire. However, she knew pity and sympathy would do no great good for him. So her eyelids lowered, her lips curled upwards, sadly smiling. And she said, "If only one shall be dead, I'd rather it be me."
She paid no mind to the cracking sounds of a teacup, her attention fully set on the lone tear falling from a cerulean gem. Her body went to stand, but stopped at Eros' raised hand. "Don't worry about ths china, I have many more." He assured wrongly, as a maid went to clean the shattered glass. He was either ignoring that a tear slipped, or that he wasn't aware.
Regardless, Diana's thumb gently brushed the area under his eyes. She felt Eros stiffened as she pulled her hand away.
"I am sorry." Diana said once more.
And Eros finally turned away, saying, "Why would you say sorry if you are not asking for forgiveness?"
The woman did not voice a reply, continuing smiling, as if she won't lose the life of her soul when she births another.
Staring silently at the emperor of his empire, Eros noted that the dark shadows under the eyes of Obelia, his father's already slim weight thinning, and the, though still elegant, lousy tunic that Claude wore, all of the signs were more noticeable, now that Eros knew what caused it. Even with the knowledge of what will happen to the woman both of them loved in different ways, the prince and king continued their weekly meetings, sipping tea, Lippe tea. It seemed as though both of them allowed the habit of following along the joys of a woman with ruby for eyes' favourite tea.
With Felix standing by his side, Claude's emotionless expression revealed no reaction of his son's self-isolation two days ago.
Stealing a glance, to the framed picture of his mother, Nyx, in between the portrait of Diana and the unframed painting of the crooked woman, Penelope Margarita on the floor, Eros spoke, "What will father do, when my younger sister is born?"
Perhaps he said wrong. The teacup that was delicately held in Claude's hand was now shattered in pieces so small, the human eye could only see in dust. A triggered stare set upon his son. But Eros stood his ground.
"What will you do, Father?"
Eros knew what he was implying. Claude will do something, that is certain. But Eros is specifically asking if Claude will do something terrible. Not just bad.
Meeting his son's eyes, Claude made a disapproving sound, but gestured at his guard, commanding, "Felix, stand outside the door."
Ignoring the redheads concerned glances as he bowed and exited the room, Claude faced his son with slightly furrowed brows. "Why do you need to know of my plans?"
Not batting an eyelash at his father's phrasing that was similar to what one would interrogate a potential spy, Eros simply said, "I am worried."
From the corner of his sight, Eros caught a twitch of his father's finger. "If that woman would just obey, I'd have the thing never be born."he harshly said.
Taking another sip, letting the supposed flowers bloom, Eros calmly corrected, "Diana wants her child to live." He lowered the cup to its saucer elegantly. "But what I am asking is: Will you accept her? Diana's child, that is."
Yes, that was the intent of his question. Eros wanted to know, more than if Claude will kill, how Claude will mourn, will he accept his own daughter?
But Claude's answer surprised him.
"I will forget that wench and the thing killing her."
Ah. Eros froze. "You,"he breathed. He tried again, more calmly. "So you'd rather forget all of the precious memories of her than suffer the pain of her not being there anymore. "
Surprising him once more, Claude showed an emotion; one that was almost saying sorry. And his son's eyes reached to meet his mother's face.
"I, as of now, cannot live without her."
And that was all Eros needed to hear.
It's not fair.
(Did Claude not grieve for mother that he would rather forget ever meeting her than continue breathing the air that wasn't shared with her?)
Eros found himself saying, "Did you love my mother?"
And once again, he was answered with– "no."
Crack.
The quiet sound of an expensive but strong glass window cracking. A prince's mana brimming from its person in…. In…. Anger? Sadness? Disappointment? Eros didn't know. Eros didn't want to know. He knew that it was not surprise, that was certain. He was already in knowledge of the lack of love and affection between his biological parents. So why was he so affected by Claude's single answer?
Was it the second rejection of his (false) assumption of someone's affection? Was it the fact that it still stung and hurt like an arrow to one's lung? Or was it the knowing that he wanted, had the smallest bit of expectation that he was really a child born out of a love between two beings from one to another?
( "Eros, the god of Love. That is your namesake." )
Older cerulean eyes glanced carelessly at the broken window, addressing, "it seems that you have not tamed your control of mana well," he waved a hand to the shattered glass, returning to its former glory in an instant brush of gold and lapis. "Do I need to hire you a tutor?"
A flash of embarrassment tried to settle in Eros' tiny form, but he quickly swatted it away, as a suggesting voice called out from outside the door. "Or you could teach him, your majesty!"
"And why should I do that?" Claude said uncaringly.
Eros held no offense to that. His mother prepared him for Claude's behavior since he was born. Literally.
"I would appreciate it very much if Father considered teaching me the ways of magic himself." He replied calmly, choosing words purposely that would soundly 'cutesy' and 'lovely' if it was said in a cheerful tone of a child instead of formal phrases of a trained Prince.
The corners of Claude's eye twitched. Triggered. Positively Triggered. Shifting the angle of his head to not face Eros' attempt at the so-called 'puppy eyes' that seemed to be working, he said, "Fine,"
And the two of them could practically feel the beam of happiness that stood guard in front of their door.