The trinket box seemed to sit just out of reach, a cherished treasure veiled in the mist of memory.
Elric often found himself lost in thought, reflecting on the warm moments shared with Arson when those precious items were gifted to him.
Each trinket carried a story, a fragment of their friendship, igniting a gentle ache in his heart as he recalled the laughter and joy they had experienced together.
The box was more than just an object; it was a vessel of nostalgia, holding the echoes of their time together.
As Fawther observed the prolonged and intense gaze of his highness, he felt a sense of curiosity wash over him. He followed the direction in which the royal eyes were fixed, his heart quickening as he realized what had captured the prince's attention.
A faint smile crept onto his lips, recognizing the significance of the moment. With a graceful step, he moved forward, carefully retrieving the coveted item that had so enamored the prince.
Elric locks his gaze with Fawther. "Your Highness, I do understand how you miss it."
Elric felt a rush of warmth flood his cheeks, causing his ears to turn a deep shade of pink. His eyes darted down to the soft, patterned duvet, avoiding the gaze of those around him as he tried to mask his embarrassment.
Fawther smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling with tenderness as he carefully set the delicate trinket down beside Elric.
With a gentle yet supportive touch, Fawther encouraged Elric to raise his body, guiding him with practiced ease until he was sitting upright, feeling a surge of strength and comfort from his companion's assistance.
"Give me a few minutes. I shall get the concoction for you." Fawther explained, turning to leave before Elric could object.
The boy sighed, taking the box and opening it tenderly.
Arson's kerchief is meticulously arranged beside the delicate earrings, its fabric slightly crumpled as if it carries secrets of its own. His eyes drift to under the jewel, where dry flower petals, once vibrant and full of life, now lie scattered, mingling with the weathered letters that tell untold stories of the past.
This is Elric's treasure. All the things given by his friend shall forever be precious and important to him.
Elric heard a knock, freezing him momentarily.
"Your Highness, this is Aaron." The gentle voice of his friend brought panic in full force, urging Elric to hide the box.
His eyes move around frantically, searching for a spot. He hides it under the duvet. However, the shape looks prominent and suspicious. Turning around to reach the table. However, his legs did not allow him to move anywhere.
"Your Highness, shall I open the door?" Elric's eyes widened, swiftly pushing the box under the bed, and he closed his eyes, falling limp.
"Your Highness, I am here for some scrolls."
Aron furrows his brow in deep concern, his thoughts racing as he scans the dimly lit hallway around him.
A thick silence hangs in the air, and an uneasy feeling settles in his stomach.
Why is nobody responding to him?
How could Fawther just leave him here, abandoned in this quiet state of uncertainty?
Doesn't Fawther have a responsibility to look after Elric, to ensure that he is safe and cared for? The weight of that duty seems heavy on Aron's shoulders as he wrestles with his frustration and worry, wondering how long it will take for someone to notice and respond.
"Your Highness, are you alright?" Arson's voice echoed in the silent room, where Elric was pretending to be asleep.
Fawther holding a tray with a cup of concoction and walking carefully towards Elric's room, frowns. Someone is standing there. He squints his eyes and walks faster.
Fawther smiles with a whisper, "Ah, merchant?"
Arson glanced at Fawther with furrowed eyebrows. "If you are here, who is taking care of Elric?"
Fawther blinks. "His highness is feeling better now. I went to get the concoction." Fawther tilts the tray up. "You could have gone inside; his highness was requesting to meet you."
Arson frowns, "His highness must be asleep. I called for a long time. However, there was no response."
Fawther tilts his head in confusion. "His Highness is awake." Fawther opens the door while balancing the tray in one hand. "His Highness is—" Fawther stops speaking when his eyes fall on the sleeping figure.
Arson steps inside, "Fawther, he is asleep."
Fawther keeps the tray on the table. "Perhaps I was wrong." He noticed the eye movement behind the eyelids of Elric.
Why is His Highness pretending to be asleep?
"Can I get a few scrolls?" Arson whispered tenderly, not to disturb Elric's sleep.
Fawther nodded and pointed at the other side of the bed. "You can take it from the table; it is inside the second drawer."
Arson advanced through the dimly lit room, his movements smooth and deliberate, each step resembling the graceful flow of water. He was lost in thought, absorbing the atmosphere, when suddenly, his little toe collided with a hard, unyielding object on the floor.
The thin jute of his shoes provided no cushion, and a sharp jolt of pain radiated through his foot, coursing through his veins like a sudden burst of electricity. Wincing, he glanced down to confront the culprit of his discomfort. There, stark against the worn floorboards, lay a trinket.
Fawther turning his attention from Elric's hand gestures to the merchant. "Merchant, how did you fall?"
But that question fell on deaf ears. Elric wished to wake up and see what had happened to his friend. But he is sleeping; how can he wake up?
"This box," Arson whispered, noticing a familiar cloth peeking at the edge of it.
Arson carefully places the ornate box on the neatly made bed, its surface adorned with a soft comforter.
Taking a deep breath, he unsnaps the delicate latch and lifts the lid, revealing an assortment of letters nestled within.
With cautious fingers, he selects one letter, the paper inviting curiosity, and sets it aside intentionally on the bedside table. He then reaches for another letter, feeling the weight of anticipation as he unfolds it, eager to uncover the secrets it holds.
Fawther bites his lip, stepping back. He peeked at his highness. "Your Highness, you should wake up before everything falls apart." He nudged Elric's hand.
Elric fakes a yawn and rubs his eyes. He turns his head to the left, locking eyes with Arson.
"Your Highness," Elric noticed the bitter tone of Arson. "Could you kindly explain these?" Arson showed the letters and the trinket.
Elric closed his eyes tightly, regretting pushing the box harshly beneath the bed.
Elric tries to sit upright, and he notices Arson is not helping him. The boy sat at the fire near his feet with little to no movement.
"A-aron, I..." Elric felt a loss for words.
When Arson's eyes did not hold anger, or his forehead throbbed with temper, or the grip on the letters showed how upset he was.
It appears that his emotions toward Elric don't stem from anger. Instead, there seems to be a deeper, more complex feeling at play, perhaps a mix of confusion and disappointment, or even concern; rather, it's something else.
"Why?" Arson whispered, looking at the letters. "No wonder I felt your handwriting was familiar at the festival." His lips held a bitter smile.
Elric felt a deep, persistent ache in his chest, a heavy throb that seemed to settle toward the left side, as if a weight were pressing down.
His heart raced, yet his mind remained eerily silent, failing to offer any explanation or reassurance.
It was a disconcerting sensation, an undercurrent of fear that wrapped around him like a shadow, leaving him to wonder what unseen dread lurked just out of reach.
Why did he feel so apprehensive, paralyzed by uncertainty, unable to confront the source of his unease?
"Did you enjoy it, your highness?" Arson keeps all the items back in the box. "It must have been, your highness." He pushed the box towards Elric.
Arson stood up, inhaling deeply, trying to blink the mist from his eyes. "Your Highness," he bows, "I would like to leave Elysia."
Was it the earth shifting treacherously beneath his feet, or was it the icy tendrils of fear creeping through his veins? Elric found himself unable to discern the source of his growing unease, caught in a tumult of confusion and dread.
Elric widens his eyes. "Wh-what do you mean?"
Arson sighs, "There was one string that did not allow me to leave." He looks at the box. "Now, it is torn, and I am left with nothing—"
"It's not torn." Elric cuts his words. "It is not torn," more like reassurance to himself.
Arson glanced at Fawther. "Even you knew about this, right?"
Fawther felt the floor looked beautiful rather than the reply.
"Your Highness, all this while," inhaling deeply, Arson looks away and continues. "You were fooling me?" He crossed his arms. "And I trusted everything you said, believing I found a right and good friend."
Elric shook his head slowly, a furrow of confusion etched across his brow.
A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in his mind, each one more tangled than the last, leaving him at a loss for words.
Despite the urgency of the moment, he felt as if an invisible barrier was silencing him, rendering him unable to articulate the thoughts that were clamored for expression. It baffled him, and he couldn't quite grasp why he felt so strangely muted in that critical instant.
Tears fill his eyes. "I apologize—" He attempts to bow.
Arson raised his palm. "Your Highness, please refrain from such actions. You're a prince, and I am a lowly merchant." He took a step back. "You have the right to do anything with anybody, even playing with their emotions."
"No, Aaron. You are mistaken. I did—"
Arson smiles with bitterness. "I was mistaken. However, everything is as clear as the sky now."
Elric's nostrils flared as he fought to suppress the welling tears that threatened to spill over. His eyes, glossy and brimming with sorrow, reflected a heart in turmoil. His lips quivered, caught in the struggle to articulate the swirling emotions within him, the words lost and trapped in a throat constricted by grief.
Who was he to try to stop someone who no longer wished to remain?
This was a person he had hurt so profoundly that he must surely feel suffocated by the weight of his pain.
The calmness that dripped from Arson's voice contrasted sharply with the tempest of emotions stirring inside him, creating an almost unbearable distance between them.
His tone bore a chilling detachment that sent shivers coursing through the prince, while the coldness in the merchant's eyes felt like daggers, piercing through to his very soul, leaving him to confront the stark reality of his actions and the irrevocable hurt he had caused.
"Aaron, please do not leave me," Elric whispered, wiping his eyes.
Arson sighed, "Your Highness, we must not attach ourselves to anything or anybody so that their departure hurts us. We must let go when we should instead of holding it tight in our embrace."
Arson bows one final time and turns on his heels to leave.
Fawther blocks Arson's path. "You cannot leave His Highness alone. You have not taught him everything yet." Fawther tries to come up with something.
Elric glanced at the duo and whispered. "We are nobody to stop him. On whose authority are you requesting him?"
Fawther watches Elric's tears behind the eyelashes. He steps back, "Please pardon me."
With a heavy heart and a whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind, Arson took a deep breath before stepping out of the room.
He avoided making eye contact with anyone, feeling the weight of unspoken words and emotions pressing down on him.
The door creaked softly as he exited, leaving behind the intense atmosphere that seemed to swirl around him like a storm.
Outside, the silence enveloped him, a stark contrast to the turmoil within, as he tried to navigate his feelings, searching for clarity in the chaos.
Elric's lips wobbled while his gaze trembled; he wished to run behind the boy and stop him. But why would he stop him?
Aaron has a life ahead of him. He may become a renowned or well-known merchant in the upcoming days. If he stayed back for the prince, he would not have any future at all.
Elric knew that the merchant's path was fraught with uncertainty, overshadowed by the weight of expectation and duty. Yet, the thought of losing Aaron felt like a dagger to his heart, leaving him torn between his desires and the boy's bright future.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
The crown prince of Elysia was unable to contain his happiness with the information. The merchant is at last leaving the kingdom for real. The king could not miss his beaming smile. Yet, the king does not have the power to stop the merchant.
He nodded, giving the permission and gifts from his side for all the things the merchant had done.
"Perhaps I would be unable to forget you, young merchant. I pray for your journey to be successful and for you to achieve many things in your life." The king said, giving gifts that contain some fabrics, rare herbs found in Elysia, and a few incense.
Arson bowed, accepting the gifts. "This kingdom shall always be a fond memory for me, your majesty."
The first ray of the sun would be the start of Arson's journey.
The remaining time, he did not exit his room and stayed there, packing things and cleaning his sword.
The commander watched the loss and unusual calmness, which did not feel serene. It felt the grime under the curtains of calm faces.
Elric is leaning against the headboard, watching the sky. His head resting on the pillow and fingers gently caressing the sparrow's head, which is sitting quietly on Elric's palm.
The sparrow's wing has healed, and perhaps it's time for it to fly.
As Elric contemplated the little bird's fate, he felt a pang of longing for freedom himself.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
The morning light brought a fresh day for every living thing. A new way to solve problems. A new way to lead a life, or mostly feel drained regardless of the bright, sunny day.
Elric pretends to continue sleeping. He imagined he was drowsy because of the concoction. He showed as though the bed felt more comfortable than usual.
Fawther, standing at the edge of the bed, whispered, "Your Highness, the merchant is leaving today."
The prince continued to sleep without a care. He heard a knock on the door.
"I wish to meet his highness." The voice felt it did not belong to Arson. Yet, close your eyes tight and pretend.
Fawther glanced at Elric, contemplating, and sighed, replying, "His Highness is resting. Perhaps you could visit later."
The commander nodded, "I shall leave this box in your care, Fawther." The commander replied and left the place.
Fawther glanced at Elric and stepped towards the door. He saw a box lying on the doorstep. He wished to open it, but he should not. He carefully kept it on the table, which Elric could reach easily. He steps towards the exit and closes the door. Peeking behind the long curtains, he noticed Elric opening his eyes.
Elric shifted his gaze toward the door side, straining to confirm whether Fawther had genuinely departed.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he pondered the situation. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, he slowly lifted the intricately designed wooden box that rested before him.
The lid creaked softly as he opened it, revealing a delicate cloth nestled inside. Carefully, he peeled back the fabric to unveil his jade hairpin—the very one he had worn with pride during the festival. The smooth surface of the jade gleamed in the dim light, and memories of laughter and celebration flooded back to him, intertwining with his current sense of uncertainty.
With a breath caught in his throat, Elric hesitantly reaches for the delicate hairpin, his fingers curling tightly around its cool body as memories flood his mind. He recalls the moment he had handed it to the shop owner, an act fueled by a mix of hoped and desire to help. Could it be that Aaron purchased it back?
Elric inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as a tremor coursed through him. The hairpin, gripped tightly in his fist, pressed against his chest like a relentless weight, amplifying the dull ache that throbbed beneath the surface of his skin.
Is this how it truly feels to lose a friend? A heavy ache gnawed at his chest, each throb as if a cruel hand was gripping his heart, constricting it until it struggled to maintain its rhythm.
A wave of sadness washed over him, and tears cascaded down his cheeks, shimmering like fragile glass beads, as the stark and painful realization settled in: he had lost his beloved companion forever.
Arson brushes his horse's hair while glancing at the open window of the young prince's room.
The commander, sitting over his horse, sighed. For quite some time, Arson has been preening his horse while his mind and heart wait for someone.
"Your Highness," the commander whispered, "it is time for our departure. It is a two-day-long journey, your highness."
Arson stops his action and speaks to his horse. "We are going back home."
The horse neighs.
Arson cast a wary eye toward the window, searching for any sign of movement or the faintest hint of a figure outside. Yet, the space remained eerily empty, devoid of even a shadow or silhouette to suggest a presence nearby.
What am I wishing for?
"Your Highness," the commander calls again and gestures for Arson to sit on the horse.
Arson sighed, holding the reins, glanced at the window one last time, and kicked his foot to start his journey to Amorite.
Elric felt a feathery touch on his cheek. He parts his eyelashes, noticing his tiny friend.
"I am not crying." He opened his fist, asking the bird to sit on his palm, and the bird sat with a chirp.
"You can fly now," Elric exclaimed. "A few days ago, you were bedridden, unable to move your wing. From this day, I am bedridden, unable to move from the bed without help." He caressed its head. "Why would Aaron stay back?" More tears brimmed in his eyes.
The small bird let out a chirp before flapping its wings vigorously and launching itself into the air.
With grace and agility, it began to weave elegant circles above Elric's head, its vibrant feathers catching the sunlight. As it soared, the bird filled the air with its chirping, a melody that echoed through the clear afternoon.
Elric watched with a mix of fascination and delight, captivated by the spectacle unfolding above him.
Fawther steps out of his hiding spot. "You are playing with his highness?" There was gentle playfulness in his tone. He wishes for the sparrow to distract his highness and feel better.
Elric looks at Fawther. "Fawther. Let him enjoy it. He is flying after a long time."
The sparrow slips from the balcony. Elric smiles at the enthusiastic bird.
"Fawther, I need your help," Elric whispered, without looking at him.
Father swiftly steps forward. "Please, Your Highness."
Eric fisted his hairpin and whispered, "I-I need to freshen up." His ears turned pink, and he felt helpless.
Fawther could not grasp the message at first. Later, he understood as he spoke, cutting Elric's embarrassment.
"There's no need to be shy, Your Highness. Just take your time; I'll ensure everything is for you," Fawther replied with a reassuring smile, hoping to ease Elric's discomfort. Elric nodded, grateful for his friend's understanding, the warm flush still lingering on his cheeks. "I am always here to help and take care of you, your highness."
He pulls a chair from the side and helps Elric to sit on it. He pushed all the carpets and the curtains aside. He pushed the chair with all his might towards the bathroom.
As they reached the bathroom, Fawther gently set the chair down and positioned it near the sink. "Just a moment, your highness," he said softly, turning to gather the necessary supplies to make the prince feel more comfortable.
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