The words left his lips with the sound the arrow makes when being shot from the bow.
He could even feel the pointy heads of them in his throat, slicing from the inside out.The woman smiled so, so tenderly. Her skin brightened with joy, illuminating the palace's inner walls the way a chandelier would. The effect bathed the throne room in a warm light, like that of the sun's rays, making the cold, silver palace golden.
That shine did not reach him.
His eyes met hers.
Having changed his looks, he now towered over her, the way he used to do many, many centuries ago. There was no trace of the child he had been minutes ago.
But in front of his mother, he was nothing but an infant.
She reached the place where he stood and gently caressed his cheek.
Of course, as a mother, what else could she wish for if not for her child to do well?
To know that her son was happy?
The look in her eyes reflected the sentiment of an elderly parent who had just witnessed their child graduate, marry, and conceive a baby. A feeling of fulfillment and pride.There weren't enough words in any language invented by man to describe the complicated feelings duelling inside a mom's heart, especially one whose son had left her side eons ago. A son who had lived on his own for longer than that, one she was seeing for the first time in a very, very long time.
What would a loving parent wish to express in these situations?
"You shouldn't be," she said.
What would a caring parent do for their most beloved child to show their love?
-Bam!
She slapped him with an open hand.
How could this moment be translated and emotions be transmitted to one another? Only the warm embrace of a family member could reach the depths of a loved one's soul.
-Slap!Slap!Slap!
Contrary to what could be observed in normal human relationships, none of these happened.
Neither the mother nor the man was human to begin with.
The man, for example, was no longer a man. With each strike, his factions sharpened and his eyes elongated, like an animal of olden tales.
Neither human nor a beast.
The man didn't stop changing his appearance until his mother's fury paused, and he looked down at her- no, he looked up to meet her eyes.
The moment the child looked back and faced his mother's gaze, there was no warmth, love or tenderness a normal kid would have. Neither did she give them.
The murderous gaze he held moments before, when contemplating whether or not to kill, back when his mother pretended to sleep, came back to his eyes.
A sinful child, one who dreamed of committing the worst of acts. A monster who would end his own parents' lives in a heartbeat.
How would such a child- no, such a demon react after being treated that way?
He slowly got on his knees, and his lips parted as he spoke, "Forgive me, mother."
His mother was not forgiving. Another hit turned his face sideways.
-Slap!
"I was wrong."
And then another.
"I'm sorry."
And another.
-Slap!Slap!Slap!
The scene continued for quite some time, but the golden light kept shining on his mother, never fully warm, but also not reaching him.
To an outsider, the saddened look on the woman's eyes would make it seem as if her heart broke in a thousand pieces at the mere thought of disciplining her kid, but her slight frown of determination made it clear: she had no other choice.
'It's not like she's doing it because she wants to, ' the stranger would think, 'Her son has done something irreparable and has to be corrected.'
Whatever it was, the woman's eyes didn't curve out of enjoyment. The corners of her lips didn't arch due to amusement. And the quiet sounds leaving her mouth every now and then could very easily be taken for wails and not laughter.
And the kid's eyes did not flare up with contained fury as he moderately bowed.
"I apologize."
He pleaded.
"You know what you've done?" She asked, her trembling voice making it sound like she was on the brink of tears.
The child tasted the blood on his lips and swallowed.
"I enjoyed myself instead of repenting."
The woman paused to think. That was not the answer she wanted, so she pressed further.
"And what are you?"
'Your son,' he wanted to say.
"A prisoner," he replied.
Not totally convinced, the woman almost raised her hand again. The movement would have been almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but the child caught it. His now blue eyes followed every movement the woman made as she sat back on the throne that had once been his. Even when looking down, he could still gauge her position thanks to the shadows shifting and the rustling sound her gown made against the armrest.
"And?"
Her voice was still as clear as water.
"I should repent."
"For what?"
"Defying you."
She was savoring the moment, and he wouldn't ruin it.
One moment passed, then another.
He didn't dare raise his head, not out of fear, nor out of respect, but rather because he knew her games pretty well by this point: She was the kind of being that felt an enormous amount of insecurity and vulnerability that could only be satisfied by crushing others.
Even now, the woman kept changing her appearance throughout all of their encounter. Her eyes, in particular, seemed to be trying to get the perfect shade of purple to no avail.
She was a very self-centred being. And that was her weakness, so he had to be careful as not to press too much on the wound. It would be meaningless for his plans.
As such, he waited with his head down.It was routine.
"..haha..ha"
He heard her chuckle.
The voice had the same ring as bells. To him, however, each sound felt the same as lashes.
"Good boy."
The tightened pressure around his fists reminded him to control his strength.
'One day.' His inner thoughts burned, 'I will make you pay.'
No matter what, he had to hold on until the day he found the final piece he was looking for. The last thing he needed to finally break free from this prison that was holding back his power: An opportunity. Something that could allow his mother to lower her guard and give him room to strike.
He kept telling himself to play the long game when she spoke up again.
"I should give you a reward."
Back in her seat, the woman finally remembered what she was doing before he interrupted her. She observed the semi-transparent floating game-like window in front of her, a scowl of disgust painted on her face.
He barely observed her without raising his eyes too much, wondering when she would leave. As always, his mother's purpose for visiting was to kick him while he was down. And since she had nothing left to do here, he really didn't care about meaningless talk.
But he had to reconsider once again.
"I noticed you were interested in this before."
Of course, she did.
He didn't say anything or react. The man had to stop himself from clicking his tongue.
She continued.
"I will allow you to look at it."
-Freeze.
The man hesitated, and he very, very slowly raised his eyes to look in her direction.
The window very faintly glowed blue, as if reckoning him to approach.
Curiosity must have slipped in between his facade. The woman's velvet voice rang once again, amused by his reaction.
"Just once."
She insisted.
Nothing good ever came out of that.
Unstrusting, he very carefully questioned, dampening his lips with his tongue, "... What is it?"
Before, the window merely hung beside her. Aside from the quick threat of white and silver hair, he couldn't really distinguish anything else. He had no idea what it was or why she had it, but nothing was significant about it.If it were another one of her games, he wanted nothing to do with it. And it didn't seem like it was part of her powers, a skill, or a weakness if she was displaying it so openly.In short, it wouldn't be useful for his plans.
But now, it was different.
Through its transparency, he could barely discern what he believed was a fight. That much wasn't of concern, but there was something else.
The window shook so very lightly with every turn of the figure, each tremor faintly making it disappear and appear once again, and with every switch, her pupils would contract almost imperceptibly.
Even before, when she so clearly showed disgust, there was also a hidden crease between her eyebrows. Something only he, who had spent many years memorizing every single one of her faces and expressions, could have noticed.
Anxiousness.
An emotion she merely reserved for him.
Or so he thought.
"What are you waiting for?"
But that alone wasn't enough.
Whatever it was, she wanted him to see it, and he couldn't allow himself to fall right in the palm of her hand.
And yet.
"Come closer."
The window flashed once again. He could see two men. One bigger than the other. One bed. A prison cell.
A silver threat of hair…
And purple eyes.
It was almost as if he couldn't control himself as soon as he caught a glimpse of them.
He took a step forward.