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Dear Mother,
Today unfolded much like any other. Training by myself in the abandoned training ground, reading the books you’ve always wanted to read, and enduring father’s His Majesty’s vigorous temper, as usual.
Please don’t worry. I was able to counter most of His Majesty’s strikes and had fewer bruises than before. Did you catch any of it in the West Wind? I was rather proud of my performance today. I hope you will be too.
The books proved to be insightful, and it was quite enjoyable too. If we’re lucky enough to meet in my dreams tonight, I’d love to share some of my thoughts with you on what I learned.
Though there was a bit of a disturbance in the castle today. I’m not sure what exactly happened, only heard that there was someone who was badly injured in some kind of accident. I hope they are alright.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
Is the West Wind a comfortable place to dwell in? Miss Hyacine once said it’s where souls find eternal peace. I do hope that’s true and that you’re resting comfortably there.
But that’s not all that I wanted to tell you today in this letter.
While continuing a book I left off yesterday, something unexpected happened. There was a rather odd strange eccentric unusual peculiar boy who came into the abandoned royal library.
He had hair as white as the snow-covered forests of The Land of Aidonia, sapphire blue eyes much like the rare sea gemstones found in The Land of Styxia, and a pretty neat an ordinary face.
It took an embarrassingly long barrage of questions before he finally gave me his name. His name was Fainen? Feinon?? Phainun??? Phainon???? Sorry Mother, I’m not entirely sure how it’s spelled, but it’s pronounced as “Fai-non”. He also mentioned he came from a place called Aidis Ides Eides… I also have no idea how to spell that place, nor do I know what that place he mentioned to me was. Sorry, Mother. It’s pronounced as “Ai-deez Eh-lee-see-yae”. Does that sound familiar to you, Mother?
Apparently, he lives here in the castle now. Yes, the ridiculous tradition you abhorred so much is still yet abolished. But like I’ve promised in every letter, I will be the one to end it. There will be no more archaic rules like this once I take the throne. Mother, when I finally succeed, will you still be watching me? Will you still visit me in my dreams? Will you still be proud?
Sorry, I’ve got sidetracked once again, back to the boy I wanted to talk to you about.
His strange birth origin aside, the reason for his visit to the library was that he got curious? Throughout my years of going in and out of the library, there was nobody who dared to venture through this cobweb-lined door, he was certainly the first one daring enough to do so.
At first, I suspected he might be one of His Majesty’s spies. He avoided my questions with such frustrating grace. But strangely enough, he doesn’t seem to have the faintest idea of who I am? Or what title do I possess? Not even my name too? Even after I’ve revealed the name you’ve bestowed upon me, he still looked clueless as ever. He even had the audacity to shorten it to “Mydei”. What a disgrace.
He said it sounded cute . Can you believe that, Mother? Do you think so too? Does “Mydei” sound cute? I genuinely want to know.
Do you think I should trust him, Mother? If anything, it could be a manipulative tactic to get me to lower my guard down.
Maybe I should investigate this. For now, I’ll play along with his little game. He said we’re “friends” now, so I suppose I’ll be his friend, at least for the time being. We’re meeting again tomorrow. Let’s see how this would end.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
As promised, I’m writing a letter to you again today.
I spent part of the morning watching him deal with the coach on top of one of the towers. It was then that I discovered just how poorly the children brought here are treated. Does father His Majesty feel no remorse? They are no different from us Kremnoan children, yet they’re cast aside as if they’re something lesser. So why must they be treated differently like this?
Though I sometimes wonder if it weren’t for Mother’s interference, tampering with some of the rules, and issuing a royal decree, would the cruelty here have been far worse than now?
Rest assured. Once I wear the crown, I will follow your path. I’ll issue decrees of my own, and I will restore balance to this fractured place. I will train myself hard and teach myself all the things I must know in order to be a good ruler, unlike His Majesty.
Sorry, I keep repeating that promise in every letter. You must be tired of hearing it. Let me return to what I meant to talk about, the peculiar boy from yesterday.
Today, it seems that he arrived at the library’s entrance early. For what reason? I’m not sure. All I knew was that he was muttering to himself about making rabbit stew and making strange little noises like “Mem”, which sounded cute absurd. Does he have some kind of imaginary friend he talks to himself with?
The expression he made was quite funny when I spooked him from behind, even funnier is that it wasn’t intentional on my part.
Though he did kind of piss me off annoy me by pulling a petty stunt that nearly made me trip down on the floor. In retaliation, I punched the wall beside him with enough force to shake the dust from the walls. But it only seemed to work momentarily as he came running to find me later within seconds. Seriously, what goes on in this boy’s head? Any normal person would’ve run away when facing my wrath, but apparently he isn’t one.
The more he acts, the more I think he’s just a dog disguised as a human. I’ve even given him a book about dogs and his reaction was exactly what a dog would act like. Looking all cute and on top of being pretentiously shameless.
Now, I need to apologize for my actions first. You’d probably scold me if you were still here. I may have thrown him out of the library window. He was driving me mad with his antics and getting on my nerves.
Though his constant pleading and whining like a dog outside got me feeling quite pitiful for him. Especially after what I saw earlier with the coach. So I decided to teach him a few basic fighting stances.
When we arrived at the abandoned training ground, he looked around the place like he was stepping onto some sort of sacred site. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone share the sentiment of cherishing something so small with such earnestness. It felt quite nice that there is still someone out there who appreciates stuff like this.
Sparring with him was surprisingly fun. Too fun. It was too fun that I got carried away and accidentally knocked him out with a hard pole strike. I should’ve felt victorious, but instead, all I felt was worry. I felt worried that I may have hit him too hard, because he was barely standing up after that strike. I guess it must’ve been because I’ve never had this much fun before that I accidentally unleashed my full power against him. I’ll need to be more careful from now on.
To compensate, I carried him back to the library myself. He didn’t say anything, but he looked quite stiff when I came back from the infirmary to fetch remedies. I guess it must’ve really hurt. I sincerely hope that was enough to make amends.
████████, he kept staring at me ███ I tended his wound, ████ me feel ████████████████ ████████████ ██████████████████████████ ████████████████
███████████ ████████████████ ███████████ ████████████████ ███████ ████████████████████████████
██████████████ █████ ██████ ██████████████
A large blot of ink dragged along this parchment, smudging what might have once been words. The state of this parchment is crumpled with its edges torn. Faint streaks of dried blood stain are also visible in the lower corner of this unfinished letter.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
Yesterday’s letter was completely ruined. I truly apologize for that. But please don’t worry, I’m fine. My private chamber is not fine though, but it will get fixed sooner or later regardless. For now, I will stay in the guest chamber.
I was so caught up writing my thoughts to you that I failed to notice His Majesty approaching from behind. I got careless. The wounds still show no matter how much fluorescent daphne I’ve applied. It seems like His Majesty’s skills are still improving despite still being a coward.
I used to be indifferent about injuries like these. But for some reason, it bothered me a lot after the fight. My mind kept screaming and urging me to cover it up.
Sorry, I’ve sworn not to lie to you in my letters, Mother.
I think this peculiar boy’s influence has gotten to me that I started to become self-conscious of myself. My bad for lowering my guard down.
I feared that I might potentially scare him away with these wounds. I feared that he might think I’m some battle-crazed boy. I feared that he would leave me. I feared that I would be alone again.
His presence is strangely contagious. If you ever met him, Mother, I wonder if he’d affect you the same way as he did with me.
The wounds are still visible as of writing this letter, but thankfully I still have some long robes in my wardrobe to cover them up, so he didn’t notice them.
Those aside, I forgot to mention in yesterday’s letter that he never said he’d be meeting me again today. I’ll admit, I waited in the library until nightfall and felt a bit dispirited by not seeing his silhouette. It was only when I almost wanted to give up that he slammed the door open. He looked absolutely ridiculous with sweat dripping down his face and his breath being ragged like he’d raced a dromas across the plains. Yet he still looked pretty regardless, I wish you could’ve seen it, Mother.
He talked about his day. I’ll be honest and say that I did not pay attention to most of it. I was busy admiring his look. I was distracted. I was distracted by the big wind blowing through the window. He was sweating profusely so I couldn’t close it.
Sorry, Mother. I’ll try to be more honest. He was focused on telling his story that he looked… charismatic? I don’t know how to describe the feeling I felt during that time, adding the fact that my mind was still a bit of a mess at the time. So apologies once more, Mother.
A quick summarization of what I heard of his story, he had used the techniques I taught him from yesterday. Albeit he had a few creative liberties, but I was proud.
After his storytelling session, he challenged me to an art contest. I’ve tried turning him down but his stubbornness won against me he kept pestering me to do so. Even when I told him I’d never drawn before, yet he didn’t care, even dropping the entire contest, promising me he would not laugh at me, and told me drawing for “the funsies” is also fine. And strangely enough, that was enough for me to agree, and I did not regret it a single bit.
We went to get paper, but he kept tripping over books scattered across the floor. I’ve made a mental note to clean them up later so in the future he won’t nobody will trip over them if they do visit the library. His yelps were irritating enough that I almost considered carrying him back to our spot but that might seem improper of me, so I didn’t. I did offer him my hand though, but it seems that he was too stupid too occupied in thinking about something else that I’ve just retracted my offer. I ended up grabbing it later anyway. It felt cold, but not unpleasant.
Later, we had a small race on who could get back to our spot first. He was the one who initiated it, not me. And do you remember that time he pulled the stunt on me? I’ve returned the favour today. It felt satisfying, but don’t tell him that.
Neither of us won in the end. There was a minor accident, but we’re both fine. Some papers flew everywhere, and we had to collect them back one by one. Though till now, I still don’t understand the weird tingly feeling I felt when he stumbled into me.
We’ve drawn a lot of things, and I failed horribly at all of them. He, on the other hand, did a miraculous job. I nearly gave up after my first failed sketch, but he stopped me. He said the effort was an achievement on its own. That I kept going, even when I didn’t think I could. His words struck deeper than I expected. So, I kept the drawings.
From shapes to fruits, I’ve kept them all. Even the crumpled pieces he left behind. Would you like to see them someday, Mother?
But there was one drawing I couldn’t keep, it was my attempt at drawing his self-portrait. He was determined in wanting to keep it to himself, so I let him. In return, I got my self-portrait that was drawn by him instead. He looked so serious while working on my self-portrait, which was kind of endearing admiring to see.
We also had a heart-to-heart afterward. He actually knew I was the crown prince. I felt quite betrayed and sad. But a part of me can’t find myself to blame him, since I know I was no better. Taking advantage of him possibly not knowing I was the crown prince and continued to act like this to him. I concealed my true identity instead of revealing it to him when we first met because I wanted to know more about him. Shameful, really.
But we cleared things up. We reintroduced ourselves, properly this time.
This letter’s gotten long, so I’ll end it with just one last paragraph.
Mother, I’ve finally made a friend. I’m not lonely like I used to be. So please, don’t worry about me.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
I’m sorry there was no letter yesterday. I fell asleep in the library from exhaustion. Don’t worry, my back’s fine, despite the rather unceremonious nap beside a bookshelf.
Do you remember my friend? I’ve finally learned how to spell his name properly. It seems like my fourth attempt at spelling his name in one of my earlier letters was right.
Phainon. Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
Aedes Elysiae. I tried finding some books in the library, but no such place seems to be recorded. Maybe I haven’t looked hard enough? He once mentioned it was a remote village, one easy to miss. Could it be that even the cartographers overlooked it? That search is what led me to fall asleep in the library last night.
Once everything is over, I might ask him to bring me there someday. Aedes Elysiae, sounds like a lovely place. If someone as lovely and enigmatic as him could come from there, I can only imagine the rest of the village must be just as lovely. It’s a shame there are no records of it anywhere I’ve looked. I would love the chance to learn more.
I’ve thought about asking him again. But each time whenever I bring up his hometown, he seems to retreat inward, so I feel bad for asking more from him. Could it be that he carries a painful memory of that place? Or is it simply homesickness? I can’t quite tell.
For now, I won’t pester him any further. I’ll keep these questions to myself and quietly continue searching through the library bookshelves. When he’s comfortable enough, I hope he’ll share more with me.
Though sometimes I couldn’t help myself and think, is he actually comfortable around me? I’ve seen moments where if he feels his behavior or antics have stepped beyond a line whenever he’s with me, he withdraws so suddenly. Was it because of my status as a crown prince? If it’s true, is it bad that I really hate this status difference between us?
I don’t know.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
It’s been a long while since I last wrote, and I apologize. Life has gotten busier than usual, and by the end of each day, especially after sparring with Phainon, I’m too exhausted to even lift up the quill.
Yeah, we’ve been sparring frequently. It’s become our shared pastime. I must admit, his technique has been improving steadily, though he still hasn’t quite caught up to my level. Though I’ll also admit, after that last incident where I accidentally smacked him with the pole, I’ve been cautious with using my true strength around him. I hope he won’t be too upset if he finds out. He always insists that I should “give it your all” at the start of each match. But still, I’d rather not risk hurting him again. Maybe with more training, he’ll grow strong enough to withstand my true strength. I’m looking forward to that day.
Otherwise, Phainon is still very much himself. He is still his usual self with his usual antics. Just last year, he ran laps around the entire castle looking for something. I asked one of the maids and they told me he was looking for the tallest tower in this castle? A rather peculiar way to pass time, but it’s Phainon, so what was I expecting? Though I did feel kind of disheartened when I found out, because I wasn’t his first choice in asking these because he could’ve just asked me in the first place instead of running around the castle like a fool.
And there are his usual odd mutterings about “Mem” and the threats of “cooking you into rabbit stew”. At one point, I accepted the fact that Phainon is just Phainon and he had an imaginary rabbit friend. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like that’s not the case?
What if “Mem” isn’t just some random muttering and is actually something that originated from Aedes Elysiae? Could it be that he misses his home so dearly that he’s conjured a memory of this creature as a form of comfort?
Or maybe it’s not his home that he misses, but rather a dish from his homeland? A stew made from the creature called “Mem”. Do you think an ordinary rabbit stew might satisfy him for now? I’ve considered making one for him myself, but I’m still far from confident of my skills in the kitchen. I might need to secretly sneak into the kitchen to learn someday. Would you like to try my cooking too once I’ve gotten better at it, Mother?
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
I visited the kitchen last night. The day before, I came across an intriguing cookbook on stews and thought I’d try my hand at one. But before I could even begin, I found Phainon there lurking in the kitchen as well.
It was quite late, so seeing him sneaking around the kitchen did raise a few questions. Then again, this is Phainon we’re talking about, nothing he does is ever truly surprising to me anymore.
What did catch me off guard was the reason for his late-night wandering. He told me, a bit adorably sheepishly, that he was simply hungry after the grueling training the coach had put him through. Hearing that, I rummaged through the drawers and handed him whatever bread I could find in the meantime. He just stood there awkwardly and tried to decline it, but I digress.
Despite that, a part of me a part of me felt frustrated. Frustrated that I still couldn’t do anything for now. But I swear in the future, under my rule nobody should ever suffer through such brutal and senseless training. Pushing someone past their limits isn’t how great soldiers are forged. It’s cruelty masked as training.
In the end, I didn’t make the stew because I was too angry. Though watching him eat with such a ridiculous look of contentment did quench my anger a little bit.
Maybe I’ll attempt to cook the stew next time then.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
Miss Hyacine happened to stumble upon me in the kitchen last night and asked what I was up to. I explained my intentions of learning how to make stew to her, and she simply smiled. She also told me that you too, once had a love for cooking. “Just like mother and son” she said. I’ve never truly met you, but I felt strangely comforted by those words.
While we were speaking of you, she also mentioned that you had some secret recipes written down in a book. The one she remembered most vividly was a dessert called “Golden Honeycakes”. She also described them as looking all round and flat, tasting sweet with the honey syrup that was poured onto it and the texture feeling soft and fluffy when eating.
It piqued my interest, and so I wanted to ask you for permission. Mother, would you permit me to enter your private chambers once more to look for that book Miss Hyacine mentioned? I would like to try making them someday myself.
I wonder what his expression would be like when he takes a bite. Would it be as endearing as when he ate that piece of bread? So unaware of the joy plastered on his own face?
That is all for now. If you do visit me in my dreams like you used to, I hope to hear from you soon. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
Thank you for permitting me to enter your private chambers. I found the book tucked away in one of your drawers. It seems that what Miss Hyacine said was indeed true, you really do like to cook, because the book was filled with many recipes that I’ve never heard of or even seen before.
Perhaps if I have the skill and time, I will try to make all of it. But for now, I’d like to continue practicing with something simpler, the stew.
I forgot to mention it in my last letter but Miss Hyacine kindly tasted my very first attempt. It was just a basic vegetable stew from that cookbook I mentioned to you in one of my earlier letters.
She told me it was savory and pleasant. I couldn’t tell if she genuinely meant it or was just trying to be kind, because when I tasted it myself, it was just passable at best. I clearly still have a long way from reaching your level, but I’ll keep trying.
Though even after mastering the art of cooking stew, there’s still the matter of learning how to prepare a rabbit properly. I know how to hunt one down, but I don’t know how the defurring and deboning process works. I certainly don’t want to accidentally make Phainon choke to his death now. I’ll need to find someone who can teach me eventually.
That’s all for now. Thank you again, and rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
It’s been a while again. Honestly, I’m not quite sure how to begin this letter. Phainon is Phainon. That is the simplest way to explain what happened today.
To summarize, he somehow wanted to plant some flowers in the abandoned training grounds today? He said it was to make the place feel “less lifeless”, whatever that means. I still can’t fully grasp how his mind works, but I’ve come to accept it as it’s part of his charm personality.
Somehow, he even managed to get his hands on a packet of flower seeds from the garden shed. I didn’t ask how but knowing him, the method he used was probably unconventional.
We planted the seeds together along one side of the place, watered them, then sat in silence for a while, just watching the soil. I did notice him glance at the ground while looking sort of apprehensive.
“Was he worried the flowers wouldn’t bloom?” Those were my thoughts when I saw his expression. So, I may have quietly cast a little mana over the soil. Please don’t tell him that though, I just don’t want to see him sad don’t like the idea of him feeling dejected over some flowers. It doesn’t suit his style. I will tell him myself once he gets suspicious of it.
Afterward, we sparred like usual. It’s honestly impressive how quickly he’s improving. His movements are more fluent and less rigid than before. His grip on weapons was way firmer as well. He also has a much more determined spark in his eyes than before.
Perhaps I may be able to use my full strength against him sooner than expected? I can’t wait. It will be fun when the time does come. Who would win when the time does come? Would you be watching, Mother? And if so, whose side would you be on?
Sorry, I got sidetracked.
Once the flowers bloom, would you like to come see them, Mother? I think they’d be to your liking. I hope they’ll make you smile.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
It’s only been a day since we planted the seeds, and they’ve already begun to sprout. I suspect the mana I used may have been a majour factor in their sudden growth spurt, but I still have yet to tell Phainon the truth.
When he saw them this morning, he looked utterly awestruck, eyes gleaming wide, his words tumbling over one another in a stream of praise and flattery as he patted the buds with such care.
He looked so precious at that time. Though for some reason, my heart beat a little faster just watching him. Is this normal, Mother?
The sprouts themselves look so tiny yet so fragile. I never truly realized how something so tiny could become alive, simply by being given a bit of care and a bit of time. They breathe. They exist. And their roots now press into the earth as though to say, “I was here too.”
It’s… beautiful and fascinating. Wouldn’t you agree, Mother?
I believe they’ll grow into full blooms within a few days. I’ll write again when they do. Please look forward to it.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
The sprouts did indeed bloom in just two days.
Even Phainon looked stunned by how quickly they blossomed. Thankfully, he didn’t ask too many questions about the unusually rapid growth of these flowers. He seemed so genuinely pleased, and perhaps it's for the best that the secret of me using my mana on them stays buried.
Among the flowers, a few stood out to me.
The first was a vibrant orange flower. Its stem was sturdier than the others, and its colour was rich and full of life. It reminded me of you, Mother. Strong and fierce.
The second was a red flower. It had a deep crimson shade to its petals. It reminded me of the self-portrait Phainon once drew of me. It really brings me back to that unforgettable day when Phainon and I were officially friends.
Then there was the white flower. Unassuming, really. No deep shade like the red flower, no bold stem like the orange flower. Just a simple ordinary white flower. And yet, it was the one I couldn’t stop looking at. It had a beauty all its own, and it felt special. It reminded me of him, of my friend, of Phainon.
I don’t know what came over me, but before I realized it, I plucked it off from it’s soil.
Phainon looked like he was ready to wrangle me for it, until I placed the flower in his hands. He stilled. His whole expression shifted. It was both hilarious and cute adorable endearing sweet pleasant.
I don’t think I can get tired of seeing his amusing facial expressions any time soon. He’s as lovely as the flowers. The flowers are lovely and pretty. I wish you could’ve seen them, Mother.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
I had an argument with Phainon today.
We disagreed on how to resolve a situation.
I won’t get into the full details to bore you, but to summarize, he favours a peaceful approach while I believe in resolving things swiftly, only resorting to violence if necessary.
Apparently, my way didn’t sit right with him. We argued, and it dragged on longer than it should have, until we both gave up and walked away, each in our own direction.
I don’t know where he went afterwards. As for me, I found myself alone in the abandoned training ground all by myself. The library where we fought felt suffocating, and I didn’t like it. I could’ve returned to my private chambers, but I didn’t. For some reason, my mind wandered back to that small patch of flowers we planted together.
The flowers still looked the same. And yet, they don’t look the same either. They feel lifeless. I tried watering them. I even spoke to them, played with their petals, and sat in silence beside them.
But nothing changed. They still looked dead to me.
… … …
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry █████ I’m sorry █████ I’m sorry I’m sorry █████ I’m sorry █████ I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry █████
I’ll make amends with him tomorrow. I’ll think up a proper apology soon. For now, I just need to rest.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, ████ Mother.
Regards,
Mydiemos. Mydeimos.
This parchment bears faint smudges of ink over a few words. A few dried tear stains lingered on it and along with visible creases as if they’ve been tightly crumpled. Yet the finished letter remains whole.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
I spent the entire morning practicing my apology in front of the mirror.
“I’m sorry, Phainon. What I said yesterday was wrong of me. I should’ve calmly listened to your side of the argument as well before responding so harshly. Looking back, I realized it was very disrespectful of me to do that. There are no excuses for my words, but I hope you can forgive me.”
I memorized every word, every tone, every line. I’m the crown prince after all. If I can’t deliver a simple heartfelt apology, then perhaps I’m not fit to become the next ruler.
I was ready to spend the whole day searching for him. But as always, he found me first. Phainon was already waiting in front of the library, looking utterly dejected. When he heard my footsteps, I could’ve sworn I saw there were actual dog ears on him as he perked up. It was cute.
His words came out in a jumbled heap as he tried to explain himself, stammering through a messy apology of his own. When I finally shared my side, he seemed to be at ease, and then he hugged me.
It’s not the first time we’ve ever hugged, but this one felt different than the rest. It felt comforting. All I could think about at that moment was how great the hug felt. His cold body against my warm body feels relaxing. You could even say I melted into his embrace in a literal sense.
That… unintentionally came out of me. I can’t believe I just wrote that. His influence has rubbed off on me, and I’m starting to pick up some of his odd behaviours. This is embarrassing.
We talked. We reasoned with each other. We made amends. It all worked out in the end. I’m glad.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
My mind is not in a clear state right now, so I’ll keep it brief.
The prophet is back at it again, spewing nonsense to His Majesty. This time, he's claiming that a stab to the front may mark his demise. Utterly absurd. When will His Majesty ever learn?
That is all for now. Forgive me for the short letter. I’ll return to my usual writing once my mind is clearer. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
It seems that the prophet's prophecy ruined His Majesty’s logical sense by a lot.
I was minding my own business, heading down the hall towards the kitchen, and then he spotted me. I wanted to walk past him and pretend he didn’t exist, but he caught my wrist before I could slip away.
His Majesty, as always, turned to me for his twisted idea of solace. Basically the same old routine as before.
Though I suppose there was one good thing that came out, maybe it’s the frequent spars I had with Phainon or maybe I’ve gotten a better grasp of His Majesty’s movements, but I managed to dodge nearly every strike.
A crowd had gathered nearby, though no one dared to intervene. But I can’t possibly blame them, it’s natural for them to feel fear when met with this kind of situation.
That’s not all, one face however stood out to me. It was a girl, her name is Castorice I believe? She’s one of Phainon’s friends. The look on her face was pure horror. And for some reason, that unsettled me more than my fight with his Majesty itself.
It wasn’t her fault. Please don’t misunderstand. I held no grudge against her. It’s just seeing her look at me like that made my thoughts run in certain directions.
Phainon often tells me stories about his friends. What they did that day, what he had helped them with, what sort of things he learnt from them, all sorts of stuff. And sometimes, I wonder to myself, does he do the same with them? Does he talk about me? About what we do together? Letting them know we are actually close friends? If they do know, wouldn’t my attempts in hiding all my past wounds and bruises from him will result in naught because one of them saw me fighting His Majesty?
I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to know.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble. I just needed someone to hear me out, even if it’s only through paper and ink. I’m sure this must’ve worried you, Mother. But for now, I’ll just lie down and let time pass. If fate wishes to unravel things, it will.
That’s all for now. Sorry, and rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
It has been a month since the incident of Phainon’s friend seeing me fight His Majesty. Strangely enough, everything remains unchanged. The days carry on as if nothing happened. I’m not sure whether that’s fortunate or unfortunate.
Fortunate because Phainon didn’t seem to know what was going on. Unfortunate because Phainon still didn’t seem to know what was going on.
Is it wrong that a part of me wants to tell him everything? To want him to worry for me, even just a little? To want him to care enough for me to be concerned?
But I can’t do that to him. He already has so much on his plate. Adding my burden to him would only weigh him down.
…
I don’t know what I’m writing anymore. This isn’t like me. Spending so much time with him is really a bad influence on me. I’m beginning to desire things I didn’t even know I had in me. This is bad.
Should I keep my distance, Mother? Take a step back and clear my head? Maybe then I can make sense of these strange heartbeats and queasy feelings I feel whenever I’m near him.
…
It’s going to be a long night.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
I know I wrote that I would keep my distance from him last week. But I still subconsciously find myself back in the library waiting for him, even when my mind was shouting for me to go back.
Yet… a part of me was reluctant to do so. Because I want to see him. Because I enjoy his company more than I would like to admit. Because I like being around him. Because there’s something about him that draws me to him. Because I have more fun with him. Because his presence brings comfort to me. Because he…
…
I’m seriously pathetic. Forgive me, Mother. I don’t think I can finish this letter.
Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
This parchment has been crumpled nearly beyond recognition. However, the words written were still legible in this finished letter despite the creases it carried.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
If you were still here, I imagine you’d have scolded me more times than I could count by now.
Yesterday, I reread all the old letters I’ve written to you. All of them. At first, I only went through it as a form of comfort, but after reading for a while it made me realize something.
I hate to admit it, but I think there’s a part of His Majesty that lives in me too.
I’ve been a coward.
Not in battle or duty, but rather my own feelings.
I’ve been running away from them, burying them, denying them. It even began as early as my childhood years, but I like to think those early years don’t count. I was young and naive after all.
Seriously, instead of comforting, all I felt was misery when reading what I’ve written throughout the years. But there was one thing that was made very clear to me.
I will not be crossing out the words of my true feelings. I will not lie to myself anymore. I will be honest with you in this letter.
Mother, I think I like him. I think I like Phainon.
Even writing that feels unbearably awkward. But it would certainly explain why I’ve been feeling this way whenever I’m near him. Though there is still a part of me that thinks that it’s just me simply infatuated with him because of my years of being alone.
Actually, I don’t know anymore. Feelings, it’s a complicated matter. Maybe I should question this longer myself and decide in the future.
But for now, this is how I feel.
Though, please don’t tell him any of this. I don’t want him to look at me differently because of something so foolish like this.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
─── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ───
Dear Mother,
It’s been a while since I last wrote a letter to you, hasn’t it? Is the West Wind still as pleasant to stay in? I hope it does.
Today was supposed to be like any other day. Supposed to be.
Phainon had come to ask me for advice on how to cast magic. It caught me completely off guard, but a part of me felt elated because he actually came looking for me instead of running around aimlessly in the castle, unlike before.
We started by pulling out every book on magic in the library and tried recreating their steps. I demonstrated the steps as best I could, but Phainon seemed to be struggling.
So, we tried other books and other methods. Despite that, he still somehow can’t cast magic like I can. I could tell he was frustrated, so I tried to cheer him up by I giving him a random fiction book. I think it got the job done, as he was chuckling quietly by the end.
I thought a change of scenery might help, so we moved to the abandoned training grounds and gave it another try. Even after hours had passed, Phainon still couldn’t cast magic. He even quoted a line from the fiction book I gave him earlier. The expression on his face was so absurd that I couldn’t stifle my laughter and laughed out loud. You would’ve laughed too, Mother, I think.
I started considering more serious possibilities. I first suspected there might be a blockage in his nervous system that prevented him from casting magic, but that’s not entirely the case? It was flowing normally when I examined him.
I also don’t think he has any chronic conditions, nor does he have any mental instability. Does his imaginary rabbit friend count as a chronic condition or mental instability? But I’m choosing to let that slide for now.
So my last guess was that he’s cursed.
I tried transferring a bit of my mana into him to test his reaction. It didn’t seem to react to it? If someone’s cursed, even a small dose should’ve triggered pain or fatigue. Unless this is another type of curse I’m unaware of? Would you know more about these, Mother? I wish I could ask you in person. For now, I might need to dig deeper into this when I have the time.
But before I could even ponder deeper, something happened.
…
Phainon’s coach and the commander of the royal guard were talking. About plans to send their trainees into battle against the Furiaes instead of our soldiers.
I was not happy at the slightest.
“We’re short on men” they say.
“It was His Majesty’s idea” they also say.
Has His Majesty stooped so low that he needed to resort to sacrificing children to save himself from his own cowardice?
At that moment, I wanted to fight His Majesty so bad. Cutting his head off as a trophy if possible. I don’t care. I just want him dead.
But those thoughts of mine halted soon after when Phainon looked at me worriedly, so I guess His majesty should be thanking him for me sparring his life, for now.
In a clearer state, I suddenly remembered, Phainon will also be involved in this deadly scheme too. He told me he’s fine before slumping down immediately and getting all depressed. The way he said it was like he’d already accepted death made my heart ache.
And for years, the same opinion still stood with me. Phainon doesn’t look good with a frown, it just doesn’t suit his style.
I tried cracking a joke to lift the mood, but that didn’t seem to land. Though he did seem less depressive than before, so that’s all that mattered.
And that’s also when I made up my mind. I’m going to interfere. I’ll find a way to keep them safe. All of them. Especially him. No one is dying under my watch. Nobody.
My initial plan was to beat His Majesty into reason. Unfortunately, Phainon wouldn’t let me do that, so I’m only left with operating things behind the scenes. Phainon kept pressing to know what I was planning. I couldn’t admit that I had no real plan yet, so I just told him I have my ways.
Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to trust me. So he forced me into making a promise with him. He made me swear to stay safe. An odd promise considering he is the one marching into danger soon and not me. But knowing he is worried for me despite that made me feel… happy.
I only agreed once he promised to stay safe as well. Though deep down I know, knowing him for years and how his brain functions, he isn’t going to keep his part of the promise, so I’ll just have to keep it for him.
As for what I plan to do, I’ll think it through tonight. I’ll write again once everything is over. Please don’t worry about me.
That’s all for now. Rest peacefully, Mother.
Regards,
Mydeimos.
The adolescent boy placed the final dot next to his name. He then carefully folded the parchment neatly into a small square and placed it into a box filled with all the unsent letters he had written throughout the years. And with a small pulse of his mana, the lock sealed shut instantly.
The boy then tucked the locked box back into its hiding place behind a large portrait that was worn with a few wrinkles and tears. The portrait depicts a strikingly beautiful woman with a long golden mane with scarlet red fading on the ends, her gaze fierce and prideful like a lioness as she watches over the room. She sat upon a throne with a dignified look, her presence ever commanding even through the canvas. The person was none other than the recipient of the many letters within the box, his mother.
The boy stood still, admiring the painting for a moment before sighing deeply as he murmured to himself.
“Haa… I need to start planning things soon.”