Everything was hazy and painful like he was caught up in a dream he couldn't wake up from.

No, not a dream. A nightmare. A hellish nightmare.

Claude thrashed around.

No matter how much he struggled, his body felt like it was submerged under cold water, refusing to surface as his lungs tightened from lack of air.

His consciousness was trapped in the flesh that resembled him but was starkly different.

He felt every emotion keenly like it was his own yet he wasn't in control of any actions done by the body he was entrapped into.

Only his consciousness resided in it, forcing him to see it all in complete helplessness, unable to divert his eyes from the horror. Unable to protest, unable to do anything.

He simply went through the motion like taking a stroll down his mind where all his memories were tucked away, hidden deep within. Some were familiar but a large part of it was foreign to him.

Scornful stares. Disgusted countenance. Betrayal of closed ones. Castaway. Complete rejection.

It was familiar yet...

Where is she?

There was no sweet memory of a girl he remembered. No relief from constant torment at her gentle tiny hands that soothed his wounds and offered him unconditional kindness.

As time followed trapped within the body, she never appeared. Not once.

He felt more jaded and cold. Apathetic to everything and everyone. More detached.

It wasn't until he betrothed Penelope, that he met her.

Joy and anticipation rushed through his veins. Finally, his eyes followed her in mild intrigue and discomfort, finally, he could meet her. If he could, he would've sighed in relief. Reduced to merely a passive bystander watching everything, he could only relish in emotion that was fully his.

...Something was wrong.

His feets carried him in the dark hallway, stopping in front of a lone trembling figure hunched over he caught from tumbling.

Instead of a brazen reckless girl who danced at her beat, eyes twinkling with mischief and never unwavering grin, he met with a sight that painfully twisted his heart.

She was you. At least looked like you.

She had an air of fragility, of loneliness. Delicate as glass-like she would break at mere caress. Dull eyes lined up with tears that stared at him in surprise and wariness.

But no disgust or scorn like he was used to by everyone.

Her flinch didn't go unnoticed by him. It only served to make the twisted pain in his heart worse, now laced with fury.

What happened to you?

He wanted to ask but couldn't.

Just then images violently invaded his mind. And he was plunged into a storm of memories that dragged him into a spiral of unknown.

And another subconscious took over.

Who are you? Why ...am I feeling this way?

He thought he'd forget her. Like every other person, he chose to.

And yet, his eyes sought hers in the crowd, his heart always yearning for something he couldn't understand.

Was it because he saw a kindred spirit in her?

Or was it because she reminded him so much of the person he was before? Of the person, he had become. The pain, the sadness, the rejection, the bitterness, everything so deeply resonates in him, he wants to protect her so he could provide little solace to himself and his stolen childhood.

That feeling continued despite the fact he was holding the sword to her neck with dripping blood. Foolish girl. She should run. She should escape far away from him and here she was looking pained like she want to take away his pain.

Indeed, a foolish girl.

So why was he hesitating?

Just one slash it'd be all over. The last thread of his humanity will be severed. So why... why was his hand shaking, refusing to move an inch.

He cursed the day she stepped into his life. He has never been the same again. It's all her fault.

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to severe it; the intangible thread binding him to her.

If he could not bring himself to cut his ties with her, he'd make sure she would hate him. Hate him so much that the love he sees in her eyes would fade away.

Because he wasn't capable of reciprocating those feelings. Couldn't reciprocate it, in truth.

He was afraid to touch her. Afraid to stain the light she carried in her soulful eyes. Because he didn't recognize the person he had become and in the depths of his heart only lay darkness. His hands were only capable of destroying.

He didn't want to destroy her light. Never want to be the reason for it to extinguish.

At least that way he could gaze at it from afar. Pretend he could feel its warmth.

But he wasn't expecting the twist that came knocking on uninvited.

Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to Diana. To her pure joy, to her soulful eyes unstained by suffering. She shone brightly like the sun and he was like the shadow created by it.

And just like moths burn to ashes for daring to touch the light, he too was burnt. In the most painful way.

"You cannot kill her. She's your child, your majesty!"

A child. She chose that thing over him. They both did.

It dawns on him. He was nothing more than an afterthought to discard.

"Let me take care of her, your majesty. I beg of you. This child, I'll treat her as my own."

'It's not your child so why do you care so much for it?'

He was tired. So tired.

, his broken mind whispered while his heart cried as he watched her care for that thing, love it as her own. Erase it.

So he did.

He cursed his fate, his destiny—his soul that seems bound to her in a way he couldn't untangle. Even after he erased his memories, and destroys his emotions he could still remember her, could still feel the accursed feelings.

Why? Why won't you leave him alone?

Why does she keep crossing his path when all he wanted was for her to stay away?

Still looking at him, looking after him. The same eyes; those damn same naive eyes that held no disgust, no scorn but love.

He hated those eyes on him. Hated the feelings it held for him. For someone like him undeserving of it. Unworthy of it.

"Please your majesty, spare her! She's innocent!"

Despair and desperation laced her face. Along with a glimmer of hope.

It annoyed him. His resolve shook and wavered like a candle amidst of storm.

'Again why do you care if she died or lived so much so you are willing to risk your life..'

It wouldn't take much to grant her wish. Her first desire she ever voiced to him. It wouldn't take much. But something in him stopped him.

He didn't want it. That girl was an annoyance who constantly brought him inexplicable headaches, and flashbacks of the past he buried into the deep abyss of his heart. He wanted to get rid of it, any remnants of the past. If it meant getting rid of her so be it.

“She will die if I say so. Your words aren't going to change my mind.“

So he declared it coldly, harshly, and with enough disdain and cruelty to break her, and erase any faith she had in him. To kill any love she had for him.

He was tired. Extremely tired. His mind and body were drained, exhausted to the point of not feeling anything but weariness. The weight of someone's love, trust, faith— he didn't want to carry it. His heart wasn't strong enough for it anymore.

He wanted to be left alone.

Despite his motive of wanting her to hate him, these words came out half-heartedly, hollowly with no firm resolve.

He wasn't expecting a reply as he turned away but a strangled laugh halted his retreat.

"I've always been in love with you, your Majesty. You were a light to me. My will to live on.“

The choked-up words were spoken like it was a curse forced upon her. Maybe it was, he mused, just like it was for him.

He listened as her words slowly turned from love to hatred. From gratitude to condemnation. From salvation to damnation.

"The thought of ever loving a monster like you sickens me to my core!"

Something shattered inside him. Was it his heart? Or his mind? Or maybe the fleeting hope he held on pathetically? Each sharp piece stabbed into his flesh in excruciating agony.

This is what he wanted. The outcome he desired.

...So why was his heart hurting so badly?

The dark whispers in his mind silenced any doubts, smothered any wavering feeling he had, and filled it with complete apathy.

He watched his daughter take her last gasping breath. And felt nothing. No remorse. No guilt. A thick layer of indifference was attached to his skin, making him detached and uncaring of everything.

There was someone else whose entire world crumbled to nothing while he remained in the same cold, jaded place.

He was responsible for it. Responsible for the broken, dull gaze filled with hatred and disgust. Towards him. For him.

He didn't feel relieved. Only empty and hollow.

"Are you happy now, your Majesty? You finally got rid of her. My Athanasia is dead... She's gone forever. How could you... she was only a child ...your child! She was innocent. So why did you--"

When the twisted whispers died down and he came back to his senses, everything was gone. He destroyed everything. He destroyed you just like he feared.

'This is why I said to stay away from me. These hands are only capable of destroying.'

He heard about her attempts to take her life with a numb heart. Each day those attempts became more frequent. More desperate.

He couldn't change your mind. Her will to keep going was gone and he was the reason for it.

In the end, he became the reason for it.

“You wish for death?“

Fingers dug into her delicate neck, eyes narrowed menacingly. Even so, she remained unafraid, glaring at him with hateful eyes.

"You're here to deliver it?“ She smiled, a pitiful, broken smile with no ounce of warmth. “It wouldn't be hard for you since you killed your flesh— your daughter in cold blood. I'm merely a maid."

'If only you were just a mere maid and nothing more. If only..'

"Stop talking.“ He spat out, cold eyes flashing threateningly. “She wasn't your child, to begin with, so why do you care so much?!"

Another broken smile along with a condescending snort. "You won't understand, your Majesty. You'd never understand. All you know is hate, violence, and killing people with no remorse...There's no point in talking. Just kill me already."

He clenched his teeth. "You...do you want to die?"

Just once, tell me you'd live. He desperately prayed in his mind. Tell me you want to live. I'll make everything okay. Just once look at me and say you want to live. Just once.

His face painfully contorted in a disdainful sneer when she dropped her gaze in resignation, a somber expression falling over as she openly waited for the embrace of death.

Fingers tightened on her neck but refused to put any fatal pressure. After a few seconds of deafening silence and searching gaze, he pushed her away, making her stumble against the wall weakly. Glaring at her one last time, he turned away as if to run away from the horror he couldn't withstand. Couldn't confront. Didn't want to confront them.

So he ran away. Like he always did. Like the coward he always was.

Within the cold walls of his room, he drank and drank, emptying dozens of bottles. Days turned into weeks, he remained a prisoner in the empty room with nothing but the echoes of regrets and loathing.

Bitterly he hoped it would end already. This life, this suffering, this longing. Everything.

He asked for a befitting end for him; a sinner, a monster like him. Not her

Not you.

You didn't deserve it.

His dry laugh echoed in the hallway, his broken stare fixated on her cold body sprawled on the tiles painted red by her blood.

He wobbled towards her, his leg giving out as he shakily reached for her. He crawled till his fingers touched her cheek— a touch he forbid himself from— and recoiled.

So cold.

Again a broken laugh cut through his choking throat as he brought her limp body closer. He sat there cradling her body close to his chest, her blood seeping through the fibre and touching his skin. Cold. The feel of it was cold.

He never wanted this.

A single silent tear trailed down his cheek as he clenched his teeth.

He never wanted things to end up like this.

More soon followed. He curled over her, bringing her closer as his breathing came out in short spasms, his heart denying everything.

No matter how desperately he tried to hate her. No matter how hard he tried, it was futile.

He couldn't hate her.

He couldn't get her out of his head.

He couldn't get her out of his heart.

It was because...

He laughed at the miserable realization.

He loved her. Dammit.

I love you.

His love for her was stronger than his want for hate.

Even if he had long realized that he didn't want to act on it. For his sake. For her sake.

Still, it ended up like this.

“Please wake up…“

She didn't.

Frozen over, he stared blankly into nothing like a marionette with its strings cut.

Hollow. He felt hollow as he went on with his days, locked away from the world. So when death came knocking he welcomed it.

“You lost, little brother.“

The taunt grated on his ears with sickening familiarity. He clutched his forehead exploding in pain and tried to pinpoint the source. Failing miserably as the pain in his head intensified.

“Don't worry. You'll soon join her.“

As death closed on with its cold claw, he wasn't afraid. No, there was underlying relief as he stopped his struggle and accepted the end.

Ah, finally. He almost whimpered in relief, his eyes fluttering close.

A smiling face flashed before his closed eyes and his lips relaxed to a small serene smile. It was absurd how even in his last breath he was thinking of her.

His breath slipped away with a whisper of her name on his lips.

Claude shot up with a start, chest heaving with short convulsive gasps. His mind was reeling. Confusion and delirium clouded his thoughts.

What was that?

His chest continued to rise and fall rapidly as chills ran down his body. The feeling of suffocation continued to linger as slowly haziness of sleep disappeared.

The moment he gained some sense of composure through his muddled thoughts, he overcame a sense of fear he never felt before.

His gaze darted around the room— his bedroom. The moon rays shining through the curtains provided him with a much-needed sense of time. Trapped in the horrendous memory bubble, he had lost his sense of reality.

Still, the fear and desperation continued to persist, gaining stronger momentum the more he felt the absence of certain someone.

And just as quickly it all vanished when he found you sleeping peacefully beside him, chest rising and falling with each breath you took.

Palpable relief washed over him as he shifted closer, elbows supporting his weight, his hands reaching out — all he need was one touch. Just one touch to soothe his anxious heart.

Feel the warmth of your skin to prove you were there with him. Alive. Alive and breathing.

Just a small caress to ward off the cold feel of death he felt in his memories.

Just a soft touch to watch you blink awake and smile softly at him and pull him into a kiss, let all his needles worries melt away with your touch.

“…What?“

His fingers had stopped midway, fingers trembling faintly.

Claude stared at his quivering fingers. He attempted to stop the trembling, to get it to move but it refused to move an inch and the trembling only amplified as if to mock him.

Swallowing hard, he attempted again.

Same outcome. His arm rejected his command every single time. It was stuck midway like a dead log.

Claude shuddered, looking wide-eyed at his hands.

He realized it wasn't just his right arm shaking, his entire body was trembling like a feeble leaf.

Claude closed his eyes tightly and clenched his quivering jaw.

He was not sure where the fear came from. But it was travelling through his vein like poison, tainting every memory he held dear along with the emotions that composed them.

He opened his dull eyes slowly and looked at you. You never told him anything. Never revealed anything. Why? Why did you keep it to yourself?

A painful lump lodged in his throat and he could hardly breathe. You never confided him with your troubles, your struggle, all the pain you felt but kept it hidden away. You bottled it up for the sake of others, for the sake of him, and kept smiling.

Kept smiling like everything was okay and you weren't suffering in silence.

A tear dropped on his shaking fist. Only then did he realize he was crying, shedding silent tears. For the pain, you had to endure. For the pain, he inflicted on you.

What he did can never be forgiven. The atrocities he committed cannot be acquitted.

All the pain he caused to everyone knowingly, he cannot be pardoned.

After all that he has done, it was a miracle you could still love him.

You had every right to hate him for the rest of your life yet you didn't. Claude couldn't understand how; how could you forgive him when at the moment self-loathing was crawling under his skin like thousands of maggots and he wanted to peel it away, cut his very existence and separate it from himself to get away from the sins etched on his hands, on his body.

Claude's body folded in half as he bend forward, his forehead inches away from yours—an insurmountable distance he couldn't close even if he wanted to, golden strands brushing your forehead as he breathed heavily, his fists clamped tightly, desperately on the blanket beside your head and he cried. Quiet whimpers escaped his trembling lips, tears tumbling down his cheeks onto yours.

In the silence of his room, even with you by his side, he never felt colder, so lost and pathetic as he cried.

———

The door opened with a creak and Felix walked in with a tired yawn. After his guard duty spent outside all night, his forehead was throbbing. It took him a while to notice the figure sitting on the bed. He froze, eyes blown wide in shock.

“Your majesty!“

He ran and skidded on his knees in front of him. Tears of relief and joy dripped down his cheeks.

Though the joy was cut short when he saw you sleeping motionlessly on the first day he put you there. Ball of white curled on your chest just as before. He was asleep just like you as if your condition was affecting him.

Claude shifted his gaze, his vacant and tired expression unchanging. “How long have I been asleep?“

Felix sighed painfully as he pulled away his sad, disappointed gaze away from you. Felix furrowed his brows at the strange feeling he was getting from Claude and replied quietly with a concerned voice. “Fifty-six days. Since the mana explosion, you've both been in a comatose state. We did everything to pull you both back from sleep but the effect of magic was strong and irreversible, even with the help of the powerful Magician of the Black Tower we couldn't do anything. All we could do was wait and hope you both,” Felix trailed off with a helpless smile, “I…It's relief to see you awake, your Majesty.“

Eight weeks, huh? Claude briefly closed his eyes. “How is Athanasia?“