The workspace was tranquil and silent to the average passerby—dimly lit by a few candles hanging from the ceiling by an intricate yet flimsy chain and pulley system. Nested at the desk were a series of items: a thick and dusty manuscript, a fountain pen, and some half-dried ink. Some of it was spilled across the table with a towel on top of it in an attempt to soak up the remnants.
Near the extravagant four post bed were a few bookshelves lined with dusty volumes and unflipped pages. Some of the books described agriculture, war, and politics. While others dove more into myth and fable, telling tales of valiant heroes fighting arcane forces, damsels in distress, and existential cosmic horror.
The door suddenly opened, and a string of light from the hallway permeated the room, illuminating the desk and papers on top of it. In walked a figure, his hair was tangled—forest green in color. Much like his own daughter, he donned freckles that lightly peppered his cheeks. His eyes were the same emerald green, but his armor sharply contrasted the homey—almost ambient atmosphere of the room.
With a heavy sigh, Emperor, or Designate Izuku, slowly trotted in, his hands moving slowly as he removed his crown adorned with green jewels, placing it on the bedside table. Shortly after, he began to remove his armor piece by piece. Soon enough, he was almost bare, clad in loose pants and slippers.
In the dim lighting of his room, Izuku gazed into the mirror, silently admiring his own physique. He was never one to gloat or flaunt his own appearance, but he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment and solemnity with an aligning personality—an emperor of an entire kingdom—looking broad and undefeatable in combat.
Though, what lay beneath the intimidating build was something softer—a love for his own daughter and friends. Yes, he was an emperor, but he didn't want his political role to overstep familial, more human aspects of his own self.
"Father?" Hazel stepped into the doorway, watching the man who was now entirely topless, exposing his toned skin and defining features.
"Yes, dear?" Emperor Izuku approached the closet, opening it wide to reveal a space one could walk into. The racks were lined with countless linen shirts, sleepwear, and formal attire.
With an indistinct mumble, he picked up the mass of his armor, teleporting it onto the wooden mannequin positioned in the back. The wooden figure's frame groaned as the hulking armor abruptly engulfed its frame, threatening to break it to pieces. Noticing this, Izuku's brows furrowed as he shook his head.
As Izuku worked to improve the durability of the mannequin, Hazel stepped into the walk-in closet, her mouth gaping slightly at the sheer quantity of clothing her father possessed. She ran her hands along the fabrics, feeling the countless textures and surfaces under her fingertips. Some were soft and silky like water—cold to the touch.
Others were thick and stuffy like wool, and some garments possessed an eerie stiffness, like they too were armor.
"I have a feeling you'll send me off on a mission of some sort." Hazel finally spoke up, looking towards her busy father.
Emperor Izuku finally let go of the mannequin, turning back to face her. With a small smile, he walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Well, I'd like to say you're wrong. I was going to take a quick rest, maybe my subconscious will tell me something—maybe something we can both do."
His grip tightened around her coat, wrinkling the fabric a little. A stepped back a little to minimize the uncomfortable proximity.
"I have it that you and Kael are getting along?"
The words Hazel just heard made her scoff, her cheeks turning a light pink. "He's troublesome to be the least rash. But he loves to grab my chin."
"Grab you?" At this moment, Izuku's voice lowered, and something in the room seemed to change—becoming darker and foreboding.
"Don't worry, father. It's nothing of much concern. If that prick were to hit me I'd tell you right away."
The aura in the room quickly dissipated, and Izuku's smile returned. "Good to hear."
His gloved hands let go of Hazel's jacket, and he turned around to face the closet once again. "You're a lot like your mother. She'd never hide her own problems or think she can handle the whole world on her shoulders."
Izuku slowly reached his hand out, running it along the cheek of the wooden mannequin. His eyes softened slightly as he gazed into the broad, wooden features of the carved, featureless face. Upon looking at it up and down, he finally began to register the pose it silently struck at all times. Graceful—resemblent of a solemn, refined dancer finishing an act in front of a roaring, amorous crowd.
"I'd be flattered if I knew what she was like." Hazel's voice cut the atmosphere like a thick blade, permeating the illusory fantasy conjured within Izuku's own mind.
He turned around to face Hazel, something in his expression shimmering in the dim light given by the candles. Without saying a word, he stepped out of the closet and approached the bedside table, reaching into a drawer. After rummaging through the countless miscellaneous items, his gloved hands clasped around a tiny object.
It was a pink crystal about the size of a finger, glistening and iridescent hues of red and orange.
"This crystal—"
Izuku's explanation was cut short by Hazel's long, exasperated groan. Her fingers rubbed her glabella as she looked at the crystal.
"You've told me this story more times than I can recall."
Even amidst the troublesome statement, she couldn't help but smile. "But I love to see you still care about her, and me."
The green-haired emperor turned back to Hazel, his lips twitching up again. He plopped down onto his four-post bed—the frame squeaking under his weight. He still held the pink crystal in his hands, rolling it in between his fingertips. His small smile soon faded, becoming more lifeless as he let out an almost inaudible, trembling sigh.
"I understand how much she meant to you, really," Hazel said, walking up to her father. She sat down beside, him taking his much larger, bulkier hand. Her hand wrapped around the iron-black fabric of his textured glove, feeling the palm of his hand with her finger. Hazel remained like this for a moment, recalling past events.
I'm just glad you're not shutting me out." At this moment, Izuku looked down at Hazel, cupping her chin and raising her head to look at him.
Izuku's gaze drifted back down to the crystal as he continued to roll it in his palm. "I've heard horror stories from friends about their own children. They shout, bicker, and disobey. You, on the other hand..."
Izuku's hand lowered, giving her a gentle squeeze. A series of emotions flickered in his eyes—unreadable to most—as he looked at the freckles on his daughters cheeks, the only thing that could have anyone guess the two were related in any way.
"...I'm glad to have raised you the way that I did."
Hearing his words, Hazel looked back up at her father, smiling softly. She suddenly leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace.
"Though, I'm still disappointed I never got a little sibling." She chuckled breathlessly, burying her head into the crevices of her fathers toned chest.
"What? Do you want me to go into the streets and pluck someone out? I'd love to do that for you ...I'd do anything for you."
"N-no! Of course not!" Hazel playfully shoved her father away, chuckling lightly.
"I mean ...there's really another way I can have another child." Emperor Izuku's gaze turned solemn as he turned his attention to a painting hanging over his bed. A woman with round brown eyes and short brown hair tied into a bun lay in a field, clad in a regal dress that expanded a meter in every direction—pink in color and adorned with countless beautiful flowers.
She smiled softly as she admired a flower in between her fingertips—a yellow chrysanthemum. "She always liked those flowers, thinking they brought good luck."
"Well..." Hazel let go of her fathers hand and closed her eyes. At this moment, numerous spheres of energy descended from seemingly nowhere, condensing and converging to form an illusory yellow flower, the same flower in the painting.
"Consider yourself lucky to have such a strong daughter." Hazel said with a smile as she placed the flower on the silk mattress, pushing it towards Izuku.
The door, previously left open, creaked silently as more light filtered in. A figure came into view, a woman with crimson hair that ran down to her feet, and iron-black eyes. Her jawline was sharp and sufficient, and her clothing was all black in color.
"My Lord, the emperor awaits your presence in the private chambers."
"Thank you, Crylla." Izuku smiled and bowed at the esoteric woman.
As she turned around and left, Hazel reached out and grabbed her father by the arm. "I've never seen her around; you two seem to know each other well."
Izuku's brows furrowed in confusion as he gazed at his daughter. "I don't know what you mean, the Cavendish family has been our longest supporting family, dating back long before even I was born."
Hazel's brows furrowed as she stood up, her expression turning slightly contemplative as she analyzed her fathers words. Kael had never previously mentioned anyone aside from him as a member within the palace. After a moment of deliberation, she made a choice to inquire with him either during or after dinner.
"Aren't you getting engaged with one to begin with?" Izuku looked towards her, feeling a small wave of waryness.
"I just haven't familiarized myself with much history, that's all. It's not that I don't care about my partners."
Hazel turned towards the door, sighing as she left without saying a word.
Izuku watched, his expression gradually softening as he moved back into the closet. After gathering an outfit that looked more presentable, he quickly changed and made his way down the hallway. For the most part, the castle always seemed dark and empty, aside from the ambient dimness of the candles. The constant dark tones and monstrous statues of creatures from myth always sent a shiver coursing down his spine.
"One day, perhaps I should have Hazel properly attire this place," Izuku thought to himself, chuckling under his breath.