Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

There was a light, airy laugh that floated delicately through the air. The woman's pale blue eyes curved, carrying hopes and dreams of the entire universe within them, tumbling snowy hair falling down her slender shoulders.

Kindness seeped from her gentle laughter, elegant and sweet as frays of soft cloth hung loosely on her body in a modest dress. Her stomach was rounded as the fabric fell around the shape.

In contrast, the room was dark and moody, decorated in careful golden hues of royalty, but unsuited to her demure. Despite this, she sat in the chair with a smile as the young boy in front of her laughed.

"My child will be born soon." said the woman softly, warmth dripping from her tone. "It is uncertain as to how it will turn out... I've broken several laws in doing this. But nevertheless, I will not regret it."

The boy stared at her through his pale mint eyes and smiled. "I will protect him, I promise."

"Yes, I am reassured. Thank you, Deimos."

Deimos' smile widened, delighted by the compliment, as his large eyes gleamed with excitement. Even at this age, he carried a knowing elegance that had yet to bloom.

"I wanted to save that child whose roots are plagued with deep darkness. I fear, no matter what life he lives, it is destined for failure. Despite that, for the life that I have selfishly created for that very reason, I wish he too will live a life worth living. Free and lovely, as he deserves."

The flicker of frightening night that crept up those roots, a terrifying contrast to the bright, snowy hues of the trees that surrounded. She'd seen a never ending fate, and a single sacrifice, that night.

No person should be forced to live that fate.

And anyway, she was somewhat tired of living. Years and years, watching the world develop as she remained a single age. Death was a frightening thing, but something she craved for many decades.

It would be her sweet solace.

Her gaze moved to the window, at the swirls of white spread across the blue canvas of the sky. It was beautiful. It always was. But eternity was too long, and everything had to come to an eventual end.

"I'll tell you the truth, my dear. The weight of death is scary, and I find myself wondering if I really want it. But it's too late to turn back, and this is a choice that may save many others." She lifted her head, tilting it with a melancholic smile. "Perhaps this child will become somebody's salvation one day. But rather than a hero, I wish for him to find his happiness in this cruel world I must abandon him in."

Deimos' lips quivered at her words. "I'm certain he will, Miss."

There was a faraway look in her eyes. "Deimos, my sweet child, what I leave with in a great burden. There is more to this than you know, and I cannot tell you about it. The world won't allow me to. You'll have to discover everything on your own."

"What will I have to find?"

"The truth of this world. Of my child. Of everything. Because one day, this world will collapse, and the only way to save it will lie within the secrets of reality."

Worlds and secrets that were beyond normality.

Deimos nodded eagerly, eyes bright and his pale pink lips smiling with a certain determination. "I'll search the world. I can do that. No matter how long it takes."

"...thank you." Tears trickled down her pale cheeks, and he placed his small hands over hers with promise.

"I promise. To accomplish everything you cannot."

As the woman's lips curved once more, a gushing wind blew through the mirage and Deimos watched as she disappeared, far beyond his grasp. When his eyes snapped open again, he was staring at the familiar scene of his empty bedroom.

He blinked away the memories as he smiled sadly, dressing himself in formal attire, black covering him head to toe. A simple design, except for the sole pale blue flower that sat in his chest pocket.

The carriage ride was short as he stepped off, wandering through a forest he had walked through far too many times, always to the same location. Before long, he stopped in front of a slab of stone decorated with twisting vines and small, pretty flowers.

The trees swayed around him, the soft music of birds dancing in his ears. A place that was subtle in its beauty, but remarkable all the same. It suited her, he thought, as he placed a bouquet of delicate flowers softly on the grave.

"I managed to find some of the secrets you've mentioned to me," laughed Deimos softly with his head lowered, mint eyes warm. "It took longer than I thought."

No reply came, but he continued to speak, anyway.

"But in doing so, I abandoned my other promise to you. I'm sorry, Miss."

"Without me, without any of us, he's found his own happiness in the journey he found with his own two hands. Even so, I made a mistake."

"I'll continue to look after him from the side. Forgive me, Miss."

His eyes slowly closed in prayer, the feel of the lapping wind almost like an embrace in his solitude. Then, the quiet creaks of wood sounded behind him and he snapped his head up.

A man walked out with tired eyes and a regal coldness lining his jawline. A similar simple attire was worn, and a bouquet of flowers that had been carefully picked and pruned, carefully held in his hand.

Deimos straightened, and the warmth left his eyes.

"...Father."

The King narrowed his eyes. "Deimos. You are here again."

"Am I not allowed to be?"

"I have made it clear where you should and should not be." was the cold reply, piercing and emotionless as it always was.

"And I," said Deimos calmly through clenched fists. "Have made it clear that there are some things I simply cannot comply with, Father."

"....." There was no response as the man strode forward, placing the bouquet on the grave neatly as he stared for moments, blankly. Deimos looked away. There had been a time, once, when this man was filled with emotion. And when she had died, those glimpses of feeling had died along with her.

The King turned his head slightly. "Do you still despise me, Deimos?"

"For what reason would I despise you?"

"I was unable to save her."

"That was not something you could've prevented." said Deimos slowly, curling and uncurling his fists as he breathed calmly. "But in trying to kill her child, you destroyed what she was."

The King's eyes immediately turned chilling as his voice came out in a low, guttered growl. "What killed her was not me. It was that child of hers that did."

He turned his gaze back to the grave coldly. "I will never forgive those who harmed her."

Deimos' mint eyes turned stormy and cautious. "Do not cross the line, Father. There is a limit to what I can tolerate, whether you are my own blood or not."

There was no reply from the King, and Deimos too turned away.

If one day, enemies were all they could become, then enemies they would be.

— — — xxx — — —

"Woah~ is she dead?"

Several people surrounded the sleeping woman on the bed, her golden hair spread out in delicate strands wove from the sun itself. There was no rise of her chest, no flush against her pale cheeks. There was no life to her.

Alvara shook her head. "I think I can sense death, and this isn't it. She's not breathing or living, but she's not dead either."

Damien nodded, hands shoved in his pockets as his tail curled behind him. "Uriel is alive. The only question is, how should we wake her up?"

Celine, crouched down by the woman's side as trembling hands held onto the limp fingers, looked rather desperate. Her eyes were surrounded by red, evidence of her many tears shed upon seeing Uriel. The saint had fallen to her knees in wretched, shaking sobs while Vendra had quickly soothed her.

The two remained alone in the room with Uriel before Vendra had opened the door later to allow them in. She smiled softly as she did, immediately returning to Celine's side when they entered.

Settled on the floor, a delicate, pale hand rested over a curled up fist, tanned and rugged but trembling lightly.

Vendra softly reassured Celine, who'd closed their eyes to calm themselves down. The startling sight of finding somebody you loved more than life itself, and the knowledge that they may never wake up. It was a painful thing, but less so with somebody you trusted at your side.

A friendship reunited.

However, it was as if they'd never parted.

"Hmm..." Brioc thought about it seriously, despite his airy tone. "I haven't seen anything like this in my travels, though you, fox boy, probably have seen much more. So if you don't know, maybe it's hopeless."

"...hey, Brioc, at least try to be positive?" said Alvara as she glanced down sympathetically at Celine, who had zoned Brioc out long ago. A good choice, really.

The magician shrugged. "I'm being honest."

"Honesty isn't always a policy."

"Obviously~ I'm just choosing to be honest now."

"....."

Raphael's eyes raked over the sleeping woman in deep thought. "If she's not dead, there is likely a method of waking her. Little prince," The man turned to stare at Soren, who lifted his head to stare back. "The answers you're looking for, could they help us in this situation?"

Soren faltered. Lydia had also urged him to search for the missing pages in the book, most likely related to the answers he sought. It was possible that a cure for Uriel, or some sort of clue, may exist. "I don't know. But it's possible."

"Then we'll go there immediately." said Raphael calmly, gazing at the others with a fierce determination in his eyes. "It's pointless to sit here and wait if we have no idea what to do."

Celine's lashes fluttered gloomily. "She might wake up."

Raphael watched her for a moment before walking forward, kneeling on the ground with one knee as he sighed. "Wake up, Celine. If you want to save her, you're going to have to leave her here and look for a solution. Just as you did before."

Soren had unknowingly followed, standing nearby as he watched the scene. "We'll save her." said the prince, who had little regard for other lives.

Celine snapped her head up, bewildered. Several other pairs of eyes stared at Soren with the same surprise. It was a strange thing to hear, coming from Soren's mouth, but also surprisingly reassuring.

This prince wasn't one to say things he didn't mean, make promises he couldn't keep.

Soren, blatantly unaware of the gazes on him, continued. "In the thing I'm looking for, it's highly likely we'll find a clue."

"...really?"

"Yes." Soren stared at her for a moment longer. This woman was one that he had read about, the strong, volatile death saint. Her love for her sister, the tears that stained her cheeks, all of it made her more humane. More real.

But it did not make her any weaker.

"I will help you, Celine." said Soren in that chilling tone, which made one want to believe him. "Uriel will wake up."

His confidence existed in the missing pages, and the strange connections he had in the world. But to Celine, he had promised her something beyond his reach, sacrificing for her sake.

Soren frowned slightly when he felt a weird look in her eyes, but he didn't make much of it.

"Hahaha... thanks, prince."

Damien glanced to the side. "What is it you're searching for, master?"

Lazily Soren said, "Answers. And some pages from a book that is missing." He figured, at least he could be honest about certain things.

The contents of said book would remain a secret, however.

The fox's green eyes were piercing, driving a hole through his mind as if searching for all the answers he desired. "May I ask, what book is it?"

"...I've left it behind. But if you find it, you'll know."

Although he preferred to find it on his own to avoid others knowing the existence of the book, there was a possibility that the others might find it first. If that were the case, then there was nothing he could do but give a subtle warning in advance.

Damien looked at him quietly. "Then I will keep an eye out for it, master."

"Thank you."

"Okay!" said Alvara suddenly, standing up. "Let's get moving as soon as possible then, yeah?"

Raphael laughed but calmed her down. "As tempting as that is, let's make a plan first."

"Oh. Right."

"Hey kid, you probably know the most of the forest, right?" said Raphael to Damien, who lifted his tired emerald eyes carelessly. 

Damien's tail settled into a gentle rhythm from where it hung as he leaned against the wall. "What if not knowing would be better?"

"I'd rather know."

"Hmm." The knowing forest eyes flickered to each person carefully. "You may have to face your greatest fears, memories that you don't wish to remember. Memories that you've forgotten."

"What?"

A tickle of a smile played at the corner of those crimson lips. "Do you have memories that plague you even in your sleep, so bloody, so suffocating that you'd rather die than remember? The forest judges you for what you did and who you are. Are you prepared to have your past taken apart and laid before your eyes?"

Damien closed his eyes quietly as all eyes watched him. "That is what the forest is. A forest of judgement, of truth and of memory. It is not for the mentally weak."

"What if we don't go?" wondered Alvara as Damien's eyes opened again. 

"It's not if you don't go, but if you go. Perhaps, you'll find something you've wanted to understand for a long time. A lost memory, a failed understanding. What do you think?"

"I'll go." said Alvara immediately. 

Celine nodded, and Vendra smiled in agreement. Brioc laughed freely and said, "Hm~ sounds pretty interesting, doesn't it? I'm in~"

Raphael said, "I'll be going as well. If anything goes wrong, then we'll deal with it then."

Damien stared at him. "Very well."

The protagonist moved to where Soren had sat on the ground sleepily, legs curled up as he listened quietly. Like this, he seemed like an obedient prince — though he was anything but. 

"After we go to the Forest of the Good and Evil, what will you do?"

The hazy blue eyes lifted to meet his. "I need to return to the Forest of Beginnings and Endings."

Soren waited to be questioned, as this troublesome, paranoid person always did, but no question came. Raphael simply nodded and said, "Alright."

"...alright?"

"What? Is there an issue, little prince?"

Soren stared for moments longer before looking down. "...no."

It was really a startling thing. Confusing and strange, being trusted was. Even so, as Soren looked at the broad back that had turned away, he absentmindedly decided, 'I can see why I let him stay by my side, back then.'

Several memories had slowly filtered into his mind, piecing together and fitting where they belonged. As if the gaps in his mind were being filled, recreated, and whole.

The memories were random. 

Soren remembered simple bickering along the crumbling streets, under the dim sun that no longer shone as it once did. He remembered the random assortment of items Raphael would bring back after leaving, carefully observing which ones Ren liked or disliked. Gradually, the items brought back became only things Ren liked.

He remembered the minor battles throughout the time, and how perfectly Raphael fought at his back. He remembered how peacefully he could sleep with the lapping warmth at his side, free of nightmares.

Originally, Soren had decided that if the truth became too troublesome to uncover, he would let it go.  

What he sought were the secrets behind his life, not of the history between Raphael and him. 

Yet now Soren felt something else. As if that history, long lost in time, was more important than the curse that plagued his soul.

And perhaps, thought Soren as his eyes fixated on that single person, it was.