1一 and his soul was made of molten gold

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YE-JUN FELT LOST IN DARKNESS, as if swimming through ink without a goal in mind. Aimless, mindless, soulless.

He couldn't remember the last time he saw light. Was Ju-hee alright? He hoped so. His beloved little sister better be safe or else一

Or else what?

Ah... That's right一

'I'm dead.'

Like a tidal wave in a storm, everything came crashing down, dowsing him in a shower of cold reality. There was a numbness creeping in, taking hold of his heart, threatening to turn him into a statue of marble.

'I... died... didn't I?' Ye-jun felt lost, and yet he couldn't panic. He had no body through which he could project his emotional state, so he was left alone with his thoughts.

He felt as though, should this have been an everyday occurrence, he would have felt his breathing shortening and his body having a panic attack. Or at least the cold embrace of distress overwhelming him.

But now... He felt nothing. It's not like he wanted to be oblivious to his own emotions, he just couldn't for the life of him get them out.

They were bottling up and Ye-jun came to the startling realisation that they would soon explode.

And the wailing of a baby came from the distance.

'Aish, could someone make it shut up, I want to be depressed in peace.'

Wait...

... a baby?

'What the一?!'

And he opened his eyes.

And he was met with jeweled blue.

Two orbs of intensity of such a bright blue, and those sparkles in them, glowing like a shattered sky, how一

'一beautiful...'

What is this? The wailing of the baby stopped? And whose eyes are these?

Ye-jun could only see the eyes and not the face of their owner. They glowed in the dark like brilliant torches of blue fire and he felt lost in their depths of sadness and melancholy.

'Why are you sad?' He felt like crying once again. 'Such pretty eyes shouldn't look so sad.'

And out of nowhere, light began to pour in the room, and the jeweled blue eyes took their place upon a face.

Golden, sun-kissed locks atop a face seemingly sculpted by Michelangelo and dressed in a regal military uniform with a fur trimmed coat falling behind him akin to a cape, Ye-jun felt as if he'd come face to face with a god.

"What am I going to do with you... "

'My god, what a deep voice.' The young musician swooned, unprepared for the bombshell that was to follow.

"... my son?"

...

...

'...Say that last one again?'

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CLAUDE DE ALGER OBELIA was the new ruler of the Obelia Empire. After the rebellion led by him, he usurped the throne from his older brother Anastacius, he had received the support of the people, the ones most desperate to get rid of the tyrant king's rule.

That is not to say he did not have opposition.

Most nobles were not on board with his changes and, too fearful to attack the man who killed all of his remaining relatives, they seemed to make a target out of the empress, Lucille di Saint. She, the sole remaining member of House Saint was a beautiful woman both inside and outside. With her light magic that held healing properties, she was nicknamed the Saintness of Obelia.

Claude could still remember the day he met her, the day when he found out that a girl as gentle and kind as her had a snake like tongue and an attitude to boot. He'd learned that she could be vicious when the mood hit her.

("Eh? You want to court me? Not that I oppose, but aren't you a bit too self-assured?" She giggled. "Well, shoot your shot, pretty boy.")

He could not deny her beauty. Porcelain white skin, doll like green eyes akin to the freshly bloomed spring leaves and long, silvery blond hair.

While she was indeed a looker, that wasn't what kept him coming after her. No, the reasons lie within the fact that House Saint had the support of the people, as they often helped and housed those in need.

That, and she was the only one that had the spine to make jabs at his person all day long, unafraid that he might retaliate in a way unbefitting of his station. She was amusing.

(What wasn't amusing was the current situation.)

With a glare that could freeze hell ten times over, Claude walked in long strides to his wife's quarters, Felix一his ever trustworthy knight一a few paces behind, rather desperately trying to keep up with his rythm.

He has been unable to see his empress since the day she has given birth to their child. (When the baby was presented to him, he honestly did not know what do with it一 Lucille simply laughed at his misery.) That was three weeks ago, and when he heard of a commotion happening within the Silver Palace, a deep pit of dread settled in his stomach.

(He did not like what he saw.)

Surrounded by a barrier of light and pressed closely to his beloved's bossom was their child, yet the hands that held him where dripping with blood and Lucille was still too still why wasn't she breathing why are her eyes closed please open them Lucille一

His hands shook as he fell to his knees and parted the hair from her face, taking in her beautiful features, frozen in time and marred by her own blood. And she was beautiful still, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, left to fall from grace like a wounded dove. He held her face between his hands, trembling and refusing to believe, but his eyes could not stray way from the blood of his beloved which stained the couch on which she lay motionless.

He faintly registered Felix gasping in shock behind him, finally reaching the rooms after his liege's frantic march, but his attention was drawn to the crying bundle nestled in his wife's dress. Hidden behind folds of silky sheets and grasped tight in his empress' clamped hands, was all that remained of her.

Unsure hands reached down to hold the three week old baby, for the second time since his birth, hesitant to even breathe as his eyes welled with tears.

The moment his magic dispersed the barrier of light, the child stilled his wailing and, as if seeking comfort from this traumatic event, reached towards his much larger hands. Identical jeweled blue eyes opened to stare at him in awe.

(Was it awe? Were babies able to comprehend such emotions this early on? He didn't know.)

"What am I going to do with you, my son?" He asked, voice choked with so many emotions he didn't even know when despair began and grief ended. He really needed to know. He wasn't his wife, he wasn't good with children, how on earth was he supposed to take care of his own heir, of this precious treasure his beloved had left him?

His eyes glanced back down towards Lucille's still body and he frowned, anger quickly taking the place of misery. In his mind, one though prevailed, 'Whoever was behind his wife's death, they shall pay with interest.'

"Felix." Said knight snapped out of his internal musings and rushed forward, kneeling before his lord. His form was tense, that much Claude could discern from behind the veil of all-consuming rage which had overtook him.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Turning around and shakily getting to his feet, baby still tucked away securely in his arms, Claude proceeded to walk away from the scene, his footfalls bringing a cruel finality to the moment. "Find the one responsible for this indiscretion and lock them up in the deepest cell of the prison. Make them regret they had ever dared to live. Give them a death as slow and painfully possible."

And just as he was about to pass through the door, he gave one final order, heart heavy and lips pursed as he gazed down at the treasure pressed against his chest. "Bring Lucille's body to the main palace. We shall prepare for the ceremony."

The burial ceremony.

"...Yes, Your Majesty."

If Felix' anger was barely strained under steel-like control, pulled taut like a string ready to snap, Claude's was a cold blizzard of ice and snow, consuming and all encompassing, ready to give any who dared to speak the harsh cuts of a snowstorm's winds.

And that night, everyone in the palace felt it.