chapter 0

Chapter 0

The wind was pleasant on mald’s little face.

The air felt cooler than he remembers.

The metal tray in his pale fingers was still warm and heavy. The aroma of baked chocolate and cinnamon was overwhelming. 

His mother’s hand lay limp, holding a piece of the cookie, she had taken a small bite from it. Her hand was pale and her fingers were pink but her forearms were ghastly white. Her head was on the table, while her cookie holding hand was hanging off the table. Her lavender  grespen long-gown, shone like snow in the sunlight. Her pale pink hair was straight and buried her face under it.

No words came out of his mouth.

He had maids help him bake those cookies, and he imagined seeing his mother finally eat them, Perhaps her cold blue gaze sparing him a single soft appreciation. He had not expected any praise or a second glance. 

He was glad and smiling for just a few minutes. 

When she had picked up a cookie from his tray, in a distracted mood. 

Probably missing her homeland again. 

Mald’s mother was an empress from a foreign land. He never truly understood why she was unhappy all the time.

And this cookie was his chance to see.. Anything at all. 

But. she did eat it, and it cost him everything.

He looked down at his own hands, the tray was on the floor, cookies were scattered except for the one in his hand.

He doesn’t remember picking it up or placing it in his mouth and the reaction that followed.

His eyes were getting blurry and he struggled to breathe, he couldn’t scream either. 

He sees his vision fade, into the cold darkness.

He woke up with a gasp. 

Back in his office, sitting in his chair, his sweaty and trembling hands holding a document.

His pale blond hair was undone, and his dim orange eyes was dark.

All he hears are his rapid breaths, and unnerving silence around him.

‘A report on late empress’s assasination’

He is reading it again. He has lost count on how many times he scoured it for more clues, for more details, to make anything sense. His restless hands corrects his hair roughly.

Why would they use a prince to take out his mother, why him?
And his own memory is riddled with gaps, and his mind fills in with data which he can no longer tell if it was part of what he truly saw.

Even after 15 years, he still freezes up whenever he attempts to revisit his own mind to reconstruct, to recall faces of the maids who were with him.

But it is covered with a suffocating blur in his memories.

His hand rises to rub along his forehead and rest of his face, taking in a deep breath.

Followed by a shuddering exhale.

Which broke the silence in his office.

He gazes at the horizon from his tall arched windows. The sky was dark in the distance, dark overhanging cloud of the battlefield was stark against the otherwise brighter foreground sky.

He can hardly point out to the day the war began. But the anger against varilys had began on the day avaaran empress fell to poison. The day mald’s mother had died.

Ever since then, the court had become a noisy mess.

With the dukes arguing, spitting at each other like war could start at any moment or the holy gates would reopen over night.

The most vocal and noisy duke was the duke rayvar. Damian rayvar.

mald had never liked that man, and rest of the court seemed to share this opinion.

The office door creaked open, no knock, and that was duke tristen veloryn. He had his usual irritated expression on his thin pale face, that man could never catch a break. Tristen’s dark blue eyes were darting between the window and mald, his dark purple hair slicked back neat.
“Mald”
“What are you doing here?”
“The emperor is waiting for your appearance.”

Tristen exhales sharply, pacing to the window. His blue cloak swaying with his intensity of movements, He had a distant look in his gaze.
“I Just wish it hadn’t been those voisaks, why her? They are ice cold in their veins! And more inbred than rabbits.”
“Why did you accept that woman as your wife, the crown princess!”
“She has less expressions than a woman on her sick bed”
“And you had to let her carry your heir mald? Really?”
Tristen waves his hand, like he is fed up. Crinkling his black 

“I need their support tristen.”
“And now she carries my first child.”
mald gets up, his face softening, for a moment.
“Lets not keep her waiting then.”

Both men leave the office, to head to the great hall, where others await.
tristen ‘s strides held a panicked hurry in them, barely hiding his displeasure.
“You really like her? “
“Dammit mald”
“What part of her cold, dead-eyed expression flutters your heart ?

mald pauses
“Not one more word about my wife.”
“I know what you are concerned about, i know what i am doing!”
[mald is like 20-21 ish here, yeah he definitely knows what he is doing]

Morning sun was warm, but tristen’s face still had that scowl as they enter the main hall

Around the marble round table was emperor henry, who sat on the highest chair. 

And on his left was crown princess yurella, who dressed in a silvery grey gown, had her long black hair untied, but straight. Her black eyes were unreadable as ever. But her usually pale face had a soft flush of warmth, which sometimes catch mald off guard. Her one hand rested on her enlarged belly, mald assumes must be at 6 months.  

Henry had his hand on his cheek, there were only four of them here, the emperor was not the person to hide his nervousness with people he trusted.

On the table was the map of the empire. 

Tristen took his seat with a subtle screech, he had calmed his anxiety in front of the emperor.

While mald took his seat with a soft tug. He had that disciplined ingrained in him.

Tristen dismisses the crown princess by avoiding glancing at her direction, but he dares not to show open disdain for her, not infront of the emperor. 

“Where is the rest of them”
Emperor sighs, as more members are yet to arrive.

“There is still 10 mins in, for court to start, your majesty.”
Yurella replies, as she holds a document in her hands. mald felt his lips twitch in admiration, his wife, already learning the ropes of administration

While tristen almost clicked his tongue before holding it back, if he was alone he would have muttered to himself, about what a try hard the future empress is.

Yurella keeps her eyes on the document in her hand, her gown felt particularly stifling but she had to be rigid, the fabric on her belly fit just enough to breathe. 

The air in the hall felt damp, morning sun is now huddled behind the clouds, it was dim, just enough light to see the henry’s grim expression, his face set in sharp shadows. While yurella’s face was stoic, except for a slight blush of her pregnancy.