After expressing her eagerness to go to Witching Flours to Tiarnan in the day and night time, they've finally found a moment in a day when they're the least busy and decided to visit the bakery together. On one of the night times they anticipated going to witching Flours, they reminisced on the things their parents baked or in Delyth's case didn't bake. Naelundians didn't have the luxury of ovens, so the adults would tell the stories of the goodies they used to bake in whichever nation they were born in before dumped in Naelund and the children would fantasize what they think the pastries tasted like based on the adults' stories. In Tiarnan's household, his mother wasn't much of a baker, their father was and whenever he baked, he would whip up something magnificent that had the magic of making everyone's days brighter.

Upon arrival, just like Delyth, the aroma of baked goods drew Tiarnan in and he found himself pulling Delyth inside. The couple smile brightly when they see a black woman with afro hair and streaks of grey in it. She didn't look a day over forty and is healthy as a horse while she glides around the store doing multiple things at once. They wonder why she doesn't have someone helping her out.

"Hi, Missus Farshind?" The woman spins around with wide eyes, not expecting anyone nor had she heard them enter. "My name is Delyth Aiken and this is my intended, Tiarnan Dinan."

Mrs Farshind beams at the pair and saunters over to them with a kind smile and a twinkle in her eyes. "Oh dearest, no need for introductions. There isn't a person in this nation that doesn't know your name. However, I must say there is little being said about you, Mr Dinan. How may I help the lovely couple?"

Tiarnan and Delyth gaze into each other's eyes before focusing on the delectable pastries. "Well, King Silas Casteron recommended your bakery to me and he sends his greetings and heartfelt apologies for not coming sooner. Though, I am sure, you will see him very soon."

Mrs. Farshind lets out a heavy sigh and tilts her head to the ceiling feeling the tears prick at her eyes at the mention of Silas, the boy she still loved as her own despite his shortcomings. The young man she prayed for every night.

"And to think that boy had forgotten about little old me. Very well, I hope soon isn't another few decades. How is he? Rumors say that you might be the one to change him yet." Delyth hears the hope of a mother in her voice and wishes she could assure her but finds herself not finding the words. Mrs. Farshind's shoulders drop in understanding when she takes note of Delyth's silence.

"I still believe in him like any mother would." She gives a slice of cheese pie to Tiarnan who has been eyeing the pastry near drooling since he laid eyes on it. "He has had a very hard childhood like no other would understand. I would tend to his wounds that the late Queen Atarrah refused to care for and give him the motherly love and tenderness any boy should have at a tender age. And I was happy to, still am. It would bring me the utmost joy to see him walk through that door one day."

Not wanting to, Delyth's heart pains for the type of childhood that Silas could've had to make him the way he is. Guilt swells in her chest as she stands in front of the woman who is a mother figure to the man she vows to kill.

Delyth takes Mrs. Farshind's hand in hers, looks her in the eyes and wipes the tear streaming down her cheek with her other hand. "He will come. Don't lose hope."

Mrs. Farshind smiles and nods. "In the meantime, can you bring these to him and these are for you and your beloved Tiarnan. I wish for a happy, loving and long-lasting life for you both. Thank you for stopping by." The rosy cheek woman baked pastries of different baskets: one for Silas and another for Delyth and Tiarnan.

Before leaving, Tiarnan made sure to plant a kiss on Mrs. Farshind's cheek, thanking her for the cheese pie to which she patted him on the head and wiped the crumbs around his lips with a laugh.

Silas stares at the bag of pastries Delyth had given him from Mrs. Farshind. The smell from inside the bag infiltrated the room, causing flashbacks from his childhood. The few fleeting happy memories he had.

A tremor in his hand, he takes a doughnut from the bag, looks at it with a sad smile on his face and takes a bite. He sinks back in his chair feeling a rush of nostalgia when the warmness fills his stomach. He makes a mental reminder to visit Mrs. Farshind during the week. A thought to call Delyth to eat in his office with him crossed his mind but knowing she will refuse him made him vanquish the idea. Instead, he had another idea and so he went in search of her.

Silas walked to the gates of Lardel Castle, taking many of the guards and knights by surprise because it wasn't a common occurrence for Silas to take a stroll to the Castle gates.

They watch in silence as he confidently strides to where Dame Delyth stands at her post. She didn't even spare him a glance, preparing herself for whatever he was going to say to disturb her peaceful temperament.

"Pulchra, would you take a walk with me?"

She turns her head further away from him. "Is it of importance?"

Not taken aback by her lack of acknowledgement nor enthusiasm to go with him, Silas doesn't blink. The guards in hearing range become stiff in body and their hands move to their swords awaiting their King's kill order. Everyone, even Delyth knows that her defiance was a form of treason. Their fingers twitch, hoping to finally get the chance to happily run their blades through her body.

Silas holds his hand out to them as a signal to stand down—which they obeyed in discontent.

"It is important to me, yes." There is a pause and he bites the inside of his cheek before speaking again. "Please."

Everyone's eyes widened. It was the second time he had to use that word for her to comply with him but it's the first time the others have heard him say it. Silas could care less how they view him from this moment on, all that mattered was getting Delyth to follow him.

She finally faces him and he takes a deep breath at the anger and frustration portrayed so beautifully on her face. He could never get used to how divine her physical features are but most importantly, the bravery she has in comparison to his other guards and knights. None of them would dare look nor speak to him with pique but she has—continuously even. Making her even more celestial.

She raises an eyebrow at him and he finds himself bowing his head with a smirk threatening to pull up at the corner of his mouth. He leads her to Munjour Rock and over to Kalodor who walks over to Delyth and bows his head to her.

She smiles at him and mouths, "Hi."

"I would like it if you would ride on Kalodor's back through Varusa," Silas proposes, which snaps Delyth's head in his direction.

"Why?" She narrows her suspiciously at him, looking for the underlying ruse.

"This is my apology to you for my behavior on your birthday. I hadn't meant for it to ruin your day and mood on the day I thank the gods for bringing you to the world and to me. I am proving my trust to you." He removes the shackles from Kalodor's neck which causes him to shake his body and wiggle his neck, feeling a taste of freedom.

This is it.

This is the day where Silas Casteron, King of the Udriles Kingdom, the Devil King puts his trust in her hands.

The day the plan for her entire purpose of coming here has been put in motion.

The day he made his biggest mistake.

Silas went for the riding armor and strapped it on Kalodor's back even so far as to give it a good shake to ensure it was secure. He calls for her and she stands beside him. He offers his hand to assist her which she takes, climbing to sit behind her afterward. She ignores how comfortably callous his hands are, even fighting the urge to run her fingers across every line and rough ridge in his hands while rubbing an ointment over them to rid them. It was different from the roughness in Tiarnan's hands. She loved the feel of his hands on her, it was easy to sink into his touch.

Kalodor shakes his body a bit too strongly, forcing Delyth to grab onto the rails on the armor. Silas' uncharacteristically slow reflexes make him fall to the ground. He falls on his side without bruising any part of his body. Without wasting a second, Kalodor stands to his feet, lets out a roar and soars in the air with Delyth safely on his back.

Silas shakes his head, amused by his dragon's reaction. He activates the link between him and Kalodor and shares the control. He needed to ensure she was safe and know where she was going. Kal flew her through the safe parts of Varusa, knowing full well that if the people in Oakenfell, Walsriden and Carlelan see Kalodor flying without Silas aboard, they will shoot him down with whatever machines he suspects they have built and stored in secret.

Instead he flies her to Pitou and Bofait, filled with some of the nicest people, also the most deserted part of Varusa because the generous people are few in numbers.

They look to the skies and see Delyth riding Kalodor and they point, smile, wave and cheer.

Cheers. Multitudes of cheers.

Silas has never received cheers from his people before. That results in his body shaking in envy as well as pride. They all see Delyth the way he does.

A Queen.

Seeing someone other than Silas, especially Dame Delyth, ride Kalodor for the first time gave Varusans hope for a bigger, better and brighter future ahead. The sooner he was reveling in her acceptance by the masses, the sooner it was vanquished. He wanted to burn the city for it and throw her body in the mix as well to demonstrate how much his envy burned.

As if the cheers aren't enough, they begin to create songs singing her praises.

How dare they!

He was their King, not her. The only songs he got dedicated to him were those of fear, anger and wishes for his death.

Something about his mannerism gave it away to Delyth that he was sharing control with Kalodor. Maybe it was the constant growling or the when she looked in his eyes and saw more bitterness that usually resonates in Silas's eyes than the delight that would've shown in Kalodor's.

She rubs the side of his face with a grin on her face. Her touch affecting him in a way that he's too proud and jealous-filled to admit. "I accept your apology."

22/03/23

Au revoir...

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