To a saddened wellness;

Anticipatory grief. A feeling of grief occurring before an impending loss. Grief or despair?

I'm sorry, Eros.

Nyx Noxlucis, your mother.

To the only son of Claude;

Claude was raised not much different from you; abandoned, neglected, well, you both were from me. He is cold, mostly heartless. But don't misunderstand, Eros, he is not emotionless. When he loves, he loves so much that he's quite literally willing to do everything for them, for the things between them.

He would not hesitate to drink the deadliest poison, kill any threat, and even forget his memories for the people that were special enough to earn his attention.

What I know, and I am certain you know too, is that you are one of those people.

Nyx Noxlucis, the fiancée that was unlucky enough to birth his son.

A precious memory.

The golden-haired woman smiled warmly at the platinum blond child opposite of her. Noticing the signs of Eros wanting something, or being curious; small glances, a nail gently placed on his thumb, his head a slight angle lower.

"Is there something you want to ask, Prince Eros?"

With a released sigh, Eros blurted, "Can I see you dance?" His eyes rounded, as if he surprised himself. "I mean," he coughed. "Well, I heard you knew father from performing, and I'm simply curious. That's all, really. "

Diana laughed, amusement shone clearly in her ruby-like eyes. She stood up from her seat, stepped til she was beside her prince, and led him to the wider side of the by the hand.

"Would you like to just see myself dance, or do you want to join me, Eros?"

He nodded, and Diana leaded to a waltz of sorts, but more flowy, more carefree, with Diana's cheerful laughter at Eros's more stiff form that was taught by his mother.

He heard Diana laugh once more, saying, "Are you sure you want to dance? Dancing isn't a hobby fit for princes after all."

"I don't care," he snapped, then said, "even if I want to wear a frilly dress, I will wear it like a pretty princess because I want to. So I want to dance."

Unsurprised by the prince's declaration, Diana smiled and continued to teach him how to dance perfectly.

Sitting in a giant lonely bed, the prince stared at the storybook on his lap. Nothing about the story should cause him to stare blankly; just some tale about a hero defeating a monster, saving a damsel, saving the world. The usual. What made him feel. What made him blank was the ending. No, it had a good ending. Everyone in the story thanked the hero, celebrated. But, the hero was held.

The hero was hugged and kissed in the temple by his mother.

Eros…. perhaps knew the reason why he couldn't stop studying the picture. It was warm. It had care. And it had something he always wanted.

But never got.

He looked up, his gaze at the shining moon. From his mother's tells, the moon is chariot driven by a goddess, one that is named Diana. His Diana, the one that he suspected was a literal goddess too, treated him like how fictional mothers would treat their child, kindly, warmly, given unconditional support. He liked that she acted as though she loves him.

Well, he thinks she loves him.

She does, doesn't she?he thought. Diana treated me the exact opposite of how Mother did.

Diana, the one that lets him sleep on her lap. Diana, the one that wiped his tears instead of paying attention to broken glass. Diana, the one that compares him to the emperor of an empire with a lighthearted laugh. Diana, the one that says "you're going to have a little sister!" with a bright and happy smile. Diana, looks concernedly when he doesn't eat, sleep, just reading the enchanted letters left by his mother. Diana, the one that almost overfilled the sh a tied hole he was left by Nyx's death. Diana, the one that loves(?) the pair of broken son and father.

Diana…. the one that will be gone.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Cerulean eyes widened, seeing wet drops on the colored story book. "Agh," he should stop. He shouldn't be crying. He knew, he knew, he understood that. But, but, but!!

The miserably clear scene of his mother's frail figure laying on the bed flashed through his mind. But, the pearl-white curls were replaced with gold, and the weak dark-blue eyes with Ruby-red.

A sob slipped from his mouth.

He remembered how he asked those words: "do you love me?"

As his mother answered with rejection.

It hurts. It's painful. It leaves his jeweled eyes brimming with hot, torturing tears. The fear that he would have to ask the same question to Diana and her answer the same as his mother, and he, who will run away, that was found by his father, will not be met with the same Claude.

Afraid. He was afraid.

Afraid of what? Being fooled of a mother's love once again? Being left with a father that will not remember the same pain he felt?

Eros, he was...

"I don't want you to die, Diana." he cried. "Please don't leave me alone."

Hugging the storybook between his chest and knees, he knew the thick walls of the Sapphire Palace won't allow any of his sobs be heard.

Eros is afraid of loneliness.

Even though he was always lonely.

The following morning, he had to see Diana's face. To be comforted, to be reassured by her kind words.

Nodding politely at Diana's personal maid, Lillian York, he was met by a familiar bright smile with closed ruby eyes that never failed to almost erase any remains of his sadness.

But then, she frowned. "Eros, is there something wrong?"

Ah. The prince glanced to the nearest reflective surface in the room, which was the marble floor, but that couldn't be used as a mirror so he turned to the larger golden-framed mirror on the wall to his left. And there he saw the whites of his eyes slightly red, puffy eyes, obviously telling anyone with the critical eyes he had cried himself to sleep.

He let Diana gently cup his face as Diana said, "Is this because of me?"

Eros grimaced. "No," Averting his gaze, not wanting to face Diana's concerned face.

"Then, " she said, locking eyes with Lillian York to ask the maid to give the two some space. "Will you allow me to hear what troubles you?"

She turned away to sit, but was stopped. Stopped by Eros gripping her hand. Her head whipped to ask what was wrong and met Eros with a face of desperation, jeweled eyes filled with tears. "Don't go,"

Diana's eyes softened and she knelt down, saying, "I'm not going anywhere."

"But you will," Eros said, rubbing his eyes to wipe the tears away. "You're dying, that means you're going away. You're going to be gone and I'll be.." His voice cracked. "And I'll be all alone."

Suddenly, he felt comforting hands wrap themselves around him, Diana's hand on his head, murmuring on his ear, "You won't be alone. You won't. "

A quiet sob made its way to be heard as Eros confessed, "is it bad that I wish you would live instead of her?" He clutched tighter to Diana. "It's not like i want not to live, I just– i don't want you to–!"

"Shh…" Diana caressed his back. "Eros, it's alright. It's okay."

He hiccuped. "I'm sorry I'm being selfish, Diana." Mother warned him of this. He lowered his head, not bothering to seem proper, but letting Diana pull away first.

A gentle hand on his puffy cheeks as Diana showed him a kind but sad smile. She seemed to always wear sad smiles these days. "I'm the one that should be sorry, Eros." She shook her head softly. "You know, I, myself, don't regret your little sister to be born." she said with a wistful tone that slightly reminded him of his mother. "But I should've considered your feelings, your father's. Eros, what I do and would regret is that I won't be able to see you grow up, together with little Athanasia. "

Eros's eyes widened. "Athanasia?" Eternal, a textbook example of a name of a monarch.

Diana nodded. "Yes, do you like it?"she asked with a smile.

"I.." he shook his head and tried for an awed smile. "It's wonderful."

He ignored his suspicions that the woman chose that name to amuse Claude for him not kill the baby.