Blooming season

Chapter One:

A child's memory

The sky bled above, as the reddish shade gradually broke through the indigo canvas, warming it up slowly. The tiny pieces of dust flew weakly around, unable to fight against the cold morning breeze. The smell of burnt wood and ashes filled the air, giving off an evidence of the war that had just occurred a few hours ago.

The village was brought to its brutal fate as bodies of bloody casualties lifelessly laid on the muddy ground. A sight that would make a stomach swirl in disgust but also sadness. Small balls of fire stubbornly ate away at the woods of the houses, not wanting to die down before taking everything along with it.

A boy, barely six of age, holding a small ribbon in his delicate plump hands. His body scattered with bruises and dirt as his clothes were all cut and ripped. His eyes stared at a particular crumpled house, the fire had long gone now but at what price. His eyes wide in disbelief as the recent events still replayed in his brown pupils. His soulless eyes gave the impression of a broken soul, and a permanent damage that will never leave his mind.

"Seems as if you're lucky,"

A croaky voice stated. The voice belonged to a young man. He was clothed in black attire, stoking to his body yet the armor of silver and red was visibly clear even in the slightly dark moment. He seemed to have a sore throat, probably because of screaming in the battle. The child wondered who that man was.

His dark black pupils had bits of crimson swimming in it, almost as if the blood of those who died were captured inside his eyes as a constant reminder of how he easily killed those of innocence.

The child didn't reply, he only clinched his hands harder on the pink ribbon. He wasn't scared anymore. He rather wished for that strange man to take his life as well, so that he'd join his family. He had nothing but the remains of their bodies that would soon disappear if it wasn't caught on fire already.

"Such a shame," the man continued, seemingly unfazed by the one-sided conversation. "I failed to wipe off this village completely." His bored eyes stared at the child in both coldness and emptiness. He walked until he stood beside the child, glancing at the wooded mess that was once called a house. He crossed his arms against his chest and took a long breath of the filthy air. The smell of the metallic blood went awfully well with the sounds of the crackled fires. They brought a feeling of satisfaction to the cold-hearted man.

The child broke the painful silence with a whimper. His eyes suddenly stung with tears as the truth hit him. His parents were dead. His siblings were dead. The whole village was dead and so would he if it wasn't for his father, hiding him in the forest.

The man stared at the child emotionlessly before sighing. Multiple poundings of footsteps were soon audible as a group of men—wearing similar clothes to that evil man's— came into a halt. They bowed at the man before one of them noticed the child. The soldier slowly reached the boy before he raised his long sword. No sympathy to be held in that man's eyes as he almost cut the child into two. A clang was soon heard as another blade came in contact with this one. The first man himself stood in front of the other, easily pushing the man into the ground before giving him a cut on his chest. Gasps were heard from behind him but he didn't give them any reaction.

"You only act upon my orders. Do not do as you please." He wiped his swords before putting back into its sheath. "I didn't give orders to take the life of this kid." He smirked before lifting the child into his arms. He stared at the boy before glaring at his men.

"B-but milord-!"

"I did ask to kill those who defy my orders and show this pathetic village who's in charge but they had it coming simply for not being cooperative enough with me. This child, though, seems to be valuable enough for me not to kill. Not yet at least."

His smirk froze the kid in his arms, holding many emotions suddenly and none of them seemed good. He had an ill-intention to keep the boy but what this intention was remained a mystery.

"You shall live to be an example to those who disobey me. Make sure to engrave this into your mind, though I'm sure you won't forget it."

He spoke venomous words clearly before walking towards his horse.

A king. A royal member of such a respected bloodline was the one to order the end of his village. He spoke so freely and showed no reaction at all, as if he was used to do such a monstrous thing.

It only took them minutes to reach the castle, though it felt like deathly slow hours. "This shall be your room. Please, do enjoy your stay here." The king placed the child gently on his feet. He kneeled down before him and took a look at him; His light brown eyes were fascinating, even though red vines surrounded them after hours of crying. His pale skin complexion gave away the fact that he was not well nourished, probably because of poverty. His long hazelnut brown locks were greasy and matte, filth sticking on it. In his small hands the ribbon hid. Though the king acknowledged it and decided to ignore it for now.

"A woman will come here to take good care of you, if you need anything then ask her for it. Don't hold back if you desire something."

The child didn't know why he was treated kindly after what happened. Just what was that manipulative king thinking of doing..

"So, what is your name?"

The boy opened his mouth but no words came out. Shock had finally made its effect on the boy. His lips quivered uncontrollably before he shivered in fear. The king took notice of how his bare feet were turning cold as his face became paler than before. He raised a brow. "Do you not have a name?" He seemed to not care about the fact that the child before him was both scared and sick. He stared irritatedly at him before sighing. "Well then, I shall give you a name."

"..ur .." A mumble interrupted.

"What was that?"

"H-hayur .." a small brittle voice introduced, breaking slightly as he swallowed his sob.

The king smiled mockingly at the boy before nodding. "So you do speak! I though you were a boy without a voice. That would've been so boring to live with." He rudely replied.

A knock was heard from the other side of the door. "Excuse me, milord. I came as you requested." A female gently expressed as the king stood slowly. "Ah, finally. Come in." The woman walked in before bowing in respect. She then gave the boy a small smile as she welcomed him. "Hello there, young one." The king only pushed the child towards her and walked outside. The woman gracefully caught him in her warm arms and rubbed his arms. "You needn't worry, young one. I will be more than happy to assist you from now on." Her cheerful voice brought warmth to his heart. It almost reminded him of his mother. Almost. Her red hair was tied into a tight bun, with a bang framing her face perfectly. A maid with a golden heart she was. Holding an angelic aura that seemed very necessary at the moment, healing his aching heart in the slightest.

He couldn't help but let it all out as tears of pain crept out of his eyes, his sobs became breathless as he relived the moment of departure. He could still hear the screams of villagers, the cries of children and the yells of soldiers that took the lives of the people.

The woman felt broken to witness such a reaction from the boy but she only hugged him tighter. It was only then that she noticed that his feet were icy cold when they made contact with her feet. Her eyes widened as she saw his fingers turn blueish gray from the low temperature and the traumatize that will probably haunt him as he lives.

"Let me prepare you a warm bath, alright?"

And so the kind lady helped him unclothe and discharged his dirty clothes before helping him clean up his small body in the most gentle way she could. She noticed now that his skin was becoming cleaner, the old and fresh bruises that stuck to his precious body. His hair soon became unknotted after she brushed it with care. He appeared even more smaller than he truly was, hiding in the steaming water with his long hair sticking to his cheeks. She genuinely felt sympathetic towards the child for he didn't deserve any of what he was pulled into.

"Are you hungry, young one?"

"Mm hmm.." he nodded slightly trying not to appear too impolite. She brightly smiled and pulled him out of the water. After being dried off, silky clothes covered his bare skin. The material seemed so foreign against his touch but it was so smooth that he secretly loved it. His hair was cut shortly after, still remaining long enough to reach his ears.

He was soon warmed up by the covers of the unfamiliar bed covers, the mattress so soft that it surrounded him as he was buried inside the clouds of cotton. A tray of steaming food was soon placed before him on the bed, multiple plates of well cut meat laid beside a plate of pale white rice, vegetables professionally sliced into tiny pieces as they swam in a golden soup and he couldn't help but take a spoon out of it. He let the wonderful taste warm his insides but as he was about to take another spoonful, he wondered if he's parents would've liked to live such an elite life, to eat this fancy food, to get warm in such a bed. He then lost appetite, tears falling into the tray with a click. He felt his mouth become bitter with the taste of regret. How could he act so normal when his parents weren't here to join him. He scolded himself for finding this good in a way and he covered his mouth. Even if his stomach was growling with hunger, hurting him as the unpleasant pain became unbearable, he forbade himself to put another spoon into his mouth.

The lady stared at him with tears shimmering in her eyes. "You have to eat something. You are nothing but skin on bones, my dear."

"I can't."

That night he couldn't sleep. Every time his eyelids would meet even for a second, his mind would display that sickening moment. He wished he was killed as well, for his life was much more painful than death itself.

As a new day began. it's been a few days since the dreaded day. The child was sitting on the king's lap as he stared at the garden plainly. The king began playing with hayur's soft hair as he sat boringly on the ground. "A little bird told me that you didn't eat last night." His gentle caresses turned into a painful tug on the child's head. "I won't allow you to end your life without my permission." He stated coldly as he earned a cry form the child. "Do not make me angry, hayur. You won't like it." As if he hadn't threatened the boy, his hands softly tousled his fluffy hair. "You seem like a good boy, so prove it to me." Was all he said before he placed him on the grass before walking away.

The king confused hayur. Why did he want him to live so badly. Everyone knew of the massacre, even if it hadn't been a long time yet. The words spread faster than tears gathered in the boy's eyes. He soon became the king's adoptive son. Showing to the world that the heartless king did had a heart after all. Though he kept hayur alive only for his sufferings to continue, he did take care of him occasionally. The king was married but how manipulative fate was, the queen couldn't produce an heir. King Zenros didn't mind though, he had a replacement, a successor already waiting in line for the throne.

Hayur wasn't that old to understand just what was waiting for him in the future but he knew that king zenros had much in store for him.

He stood up slowly before walking into the colorful wide garden. Each flower with a story of its own as it whispered soft nothings to the boy walking beside it, giving him slight hope that the world still had hope. It sure gave him hope to see such precious flowers of all sorts grow even in the presence of the demon king. His fingers touched them ever so lightly before a small smile appeared on his lips. "Mama loved these flowers.." he mumbled as he took a sniff of the beautiful lilies.

He felt a presence behind him. He didn't have time to turn before a delicate soft hand touched his cheek. "Good morning, hayur." The Queen, Rovia gave him her best smile as her golden eyes made contact with his coffee brown ones. "I've been looking for you." She only continued when she received a small nod of acknowledgement from the five years old.

"You have?" He inquired in a sweet yet confused tone. His plump lips pouted slightly as he stared at her with interest, intrigued by her words.

"Yes, I wanted you to accompany me to the library, as we usually do before dinner." Her motherly tone embraced his heart in a welcoming way, making up for the coldness of her husband. She appeared to be a gentle queen. Her eyes dropped in a sweet smile as her actions only portrayed kindness. Her blonde hair took the form silky feathers on her shoulders. She was a beauty and it was no wonder why she was the queen of Yanteeir.

It became a habit for the both of them to visit the castle's library from the late morning's till just before dinner. She felt the need to teach the boy and fill his brain with knowledge for he will represent this kingdom someday. Some would assume that the queen would be mad or furious with having a child of such a background becoming her son but she couldn't bring herself to hate him even if she tried. She already found him too likable and he simply made her feel bad for what happened in his past. She didn't understand how could her blunt— and somewhat irrational — husband could kill a whole village with cold blood, as if it was natural to do so whenever he pleased. But she couldn't oppose to him or else she'd be missing her head, making her unable to complain furthermore about anything else.

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I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

Just to point out, all the relationships will be platonic unless stated otherwise. I don't support nor tolerate pedophilia nor encourage it in any way. This is a pure relationship So please don't get it mixed up!

Thank you for reading <3