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𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑚 || 𝑳𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒆’𝒔 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒐

Hello, and welcome to the arboretum! This is where I keep and tend to my darling flowers. Please, I ask you be wary when touching or smelling my exquisite specimens if caution is directed. Some of them are…toxic, poisonous to your senses. Keep an eye open, and call the gardener, yours truly, if you have any issues. 💐

Come, come, right this way! The flowers are divine when they’re in bloom. (Heavily inspired by @fushigurro — got this idea from them! :3)

(Banner by @anitalenia)

Also tagging @glitchtricks94 — I think you’d like this :3

tagging everyone I think would appreciate this knowledge

@mikasa-imadebiscults @bunny-n3zuk0 @kakushino @v4mp-wife @muvaginger @knightcoree @peachdues @wifeyana @nrc-ramshackle-prefect @night-raven-miscellany @flametrashira @sweet-honey-fruit @thatonegenshinsimp @moraxsthrone

there are so many more I need to tag/contact but these are all I remember rn (can you tell i'm crying)

Hey y'all!! So, uhm...a lil snag with my other acc, @mydarlingdahlia ... and now I can't log back in. Possibly forever. So...yeah. I'm here now!!

It might take a while for me to get everything back in order, but don't worry!! It's still me :)

oh boy this is gonna be a pain in the mf ass

Maybe so things don’t get confusing around here; if any of yall follow any of these blogs :

@mydarlingdahlia @bubble-n-trouble

I’d recommend you unfollow them — so things don’t accidentally get mixed up 😭

Reblogs would be appreciated! I want anyone who was my mootie/follower on any of those other blogs to know that those blogs won’t be active anymore.

some days i just

Had to join to this trend cus it's literally them..

𝙼𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚜 — 𝚃𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝙳𝚘 𝚆𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎…?

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ : Prince!Veritas Ratio x Lady!Charlotte

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs + ɴᴏᴛᴇs : unrequited love, mentions of blood and death, basically incurable disease, brief mention of spiraling (into guilt/panic), Veritas denying his feelings, Hanahaki Disease, ghost winks (see explanation here), physical apparitions, major guilt, might be a little ooc, did I say guilt?, and fluff at the end

Also! In this story, for the plot, Hanahaki isn’t known or classified as a disease, but we all (probably) know what it is, obviously. Another thing, this story doesn’t have 18+ or NSFW content, but it does deal with heavy elements.

And it’s a royalty AU ting 🌚

ᴀ/ɴ — I like being allergic to happiness sometimes, so here we are. :) Also this is a self ship thing so just a heads up!

word count : 7.1k words

“My most sincere apologies, My Lady…. I’m afraid I do not feel the same way,” Was all that he could say.

Veritas was looking at Charlotte, standing by his side, but soon drifted his gaze towards the horizon. Dusk was rising, coloring the sky with beautiful warm colors of the crescendo of the day. In the morning, he had agreed for a rendezvous proposed by Lady Charlotte, well, to tell the truth, only having a stroll was asked. But the prince knew what kind of conversation would be brought up during that stroll. He wasn't wrong, he received a confession from her, he didn't know what to think of that situation, that got him fairly puzzled. After all, that was the first time someone ever admitted their love to him in person, and not by a letter or by indirect tellings.

What had he done to make him earn this love he couldn't even return? Or, for lack of better words, wasn’t sure how to return? Veritas didn't know, he didn't understand. That was what frustrated him.  They were merely in the same court, even if he was the prince and she was but a lady, sometimes having pleasant conversations when time allowed... Was it really enough for love to be born within one's heart? He didn't understand, but he was curious. 

“I hope I am not…intruding on any personal boundaries when I ask this,” Veritas began, breaking the heavy silence that had settled in between them. “But, why do you love me? I am curious to know of your perspective.”

“W-Why do I love you?” Charlotte repeated, her voice cracking slightly as she looked at Veritas. "I wish I could explain it better, but it's not a 'why' or 'how' question, really.... Love is just a...natural thing, for some people. It's human nature, I suppose." she replied, trying to keep a smile on her face, but the pain was evident.

"Human nature, I see,” Veritas echoed, repeating the last words. The prince had never paid attention to such matters, and now he was realizing how much he didn't know about things like this. 

"Is it painful when one can't return that love?" He asked solemnly, glancing at her worried features with a hint of concern. He couldn't find a better way to ease the probable pain she might suffer. He was a man of few words, but at least, he wanted to be gentle. After all, she was simply doing what she felt she had to do, and he respected that. Charlotte, after all, was just a lady of the court, while he was trapped in a delicate situation because of his true identity being that of the prince.

He felt deficient for not making her understand how it was impossible for him to return her love. Or, as he believed he couldn’t return it. It wasn't a lie nor a desire, but a simple fact since he couldn't even process those kinds of feelings, let alone return them. He just hoped Charlotte would find someone who could give her what she wanted, love, affection, and care. Someone humane could truly provide her what he couldn't.

"W-Well, yes, sometimes it's painful when love isn't reciprocated..." Charlotte replied, her voice starting to strain. "I don't want you to worry about it, though! I understand your feelings as well, Your Highness." she said. If she was trying to mask her sadness, it wasn't working very well, as he could practically see her heart cracking into pieces in her eyes, despite the smile she put on.

"I will not do anything that would make you suffer more,” Veritas stated, his voice barely audible as he looked into her sad eyes. He didn't want to see her in such pain, and if there was anything he could do to help, he would do it.

“Perhaps...we should continue our stroll. The sunset is quite a spectacle,” he suggested, turning around, facing the horizon with its breathtaking sunset. The sky, bathed by the warm tones, was painting their final strokes on the canvas before the night claimed its place. He hoped the sight would lift up her spirits a bit. It certainly helped him to unwind. There was something calming about the end of the day, watching the sun setting down, yielding to the darkness that would soon embrace the kingdom before a new morning was born.

"We can continue talking then, and I promise not to intrude on your feelings anymore." While he didn't understand the feelings of love entirely, he respected them and wanted to protect Charlotte from further sadness, even if it meant leaving his questions unanswered. Veritas, even in this lack of understanding of human nature and emotions, knew what it meant to hurt and didn't want to contribute to it in any way. 

"N-No, that's quite alright, Your Highness. I better be getting back, anyway," Charlotte said, her smile beginning to falter slightly. She gave him a slight bow before turning and briskly walking away. Her last facial expression that he saw made it clear that she was about to burst into tears, had she not turned away.

Veritas watched as Charlotte headed back home, unable to offer her more comfort. He was aware of his limitations, and he couldn't stand seeing her heartbroken. It pained him to witness that even if he didn't understand the reason behind it. He sighed and resumed his walk, contemplating the beauty of the sunset before him. He would have to dig deeper into this subject known as 'love'—that was the least he could do for Charlotte. Perhaps, in time, he could understand more about this emotion and the intricate feelings that came with it.

On the side, he wished that somehow, someone could return Charlotte's feelings, giving her the love and affection that she deserved, and that he couldn't render.

Then, the next day seemed to roll around without a hitch. Charlotte had shown up to the court, as per usual, but something seemed a bit...off. She seemed mostly like herself, but she didn't have as much energy or pep in her step like she always did. Not to mention the slightly dark circles under her eyes. Had his rejection of her feelings hurt her that severely? No, maybe she just had a regular sleepless night, everyone gets those once in a while…

But Veritas couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in Charlotte's demeanor when he saw her the next day. The loss of her usual energy and the noticeable dark circles were clear indications that she had a restless night. However, he chose not to inquire. This was a delicate situation, and he wanted to be cautious. He didn't want to aggravate her unintentionally. His inability to fully grasp her feelings frustrated him, but he promised himself to look into this love-matter thoroughly.

Yet, he also vowed to make sure Charlotte could maintain her position in court in the best possible conditions. He was her superior, and while he couldn't give her the emotions she desired in a private way, he could offer her a helping hand professionally. He wanted her to feel comfortable and supported under his care, especially now that her personal life was going through a rough patch.

The day went by, and Veritas focused on doing his part as the prince of his land to the best of his abilities. He hoped that in time, Charlotte could recover and perhaps even forget the disappointment she faced yesterday. It was, after all, not her fault that her love was not reciprocated.

But, Veritas couldn't shake off that nagging feeling inside of him. A feeling of responsibility, and a faint desire to make her happy. He was an enigma, a mind that very few could comprehend, yet he felt a kinship with the modern world, especially with its inhabitants. And the thought of her sadness caused him to take another step forward in his quest to understand love, hoping it could lead him to help her in some way. Perhaps not with his feelings, but with his knowledge and actions as her superior, her ruler.

By chance, Charlotte began to pass by him in the hallway as the day went on. Upon closer inspection, she did look fairly tired, and even a little sick. He'd caught glimpses of her throughout the day, and he had seen her coughing a few times.

Veritas paused, raising a finger for her to stay for a moment, waiving the cohort passing by, then he tilted his head a little, frowning. He scanned her features, searching for answers, but her condition was not able to be decided just by a mere look. Maybe it was just a common cold? After all, winter was starting to come about.

“Lady Charlotte, would you happen to be unwell?" His concern was evident in his tone, as well as how he stepped closer to her. His internal alarm rang when he saw her tired stature, dark circles, and coughing episodes, clearly an indication of her being unwell. His priority was now to make sure that she was alright, regardless of their previous conversation.

"Do not worry about your tasks today, I will assist in your duties. Rest at your place, and if possible, do not come to work for a couple of days. Recovering your health is more important." he advised firmly but gently, his voice laced with sincere concern.

Assuring her safety and well-being was something that he was willing to prioritize, no matter the situation. It was, after all, an obligation he held as her superior. Veritas may not understand love, but he was a responsible man in his public and private life. He couldn't allow his subjects to work while unwell, especially when he had the means to remedy the situation. Charlotte's welfare was important to him, and he wished to honor it in the best way he could.

"I-I think I'm fine, Sir.... It's just a small, cough, that's all," Charlotte said, offering him a weak smile. Her argument wasn't very convincing, however.

"You are not fine, miss. Trust in my judgment, please," Veritas insisted on sending her home, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. Even if he couldn't empathize with the feelings of love, he hoped that his care for her health would enhance his bond with her. "The doctor of the Palace will be informed, and he'll come to check on you at your place. Don't worry; we'll get to your condition, and you'll be back to work in no time. Now, kindly head to your office, gather your things, and leave. You earned it."

Despite her hesitation, he gently nudged her towards the opposite direction with a hint of a smile. Veritas was usually a stern man, but in moments like this, his care and kindness shone through.

"I will handle everything until you are ready to rejoin us." hee assured her, pivoting, and striding away, his mind already focusing on how to arrange the missing tasks due to her leave.

"Are you sure? I don't mind working," Charlotte said meekly, still trying to put up a bit of an argument.

"Madam, trust me on this. It's not wise to work while in poor health, and I refuse to let you do so," Veritas said firmly, ensuring there was no room for further discussion. He already had a duty to be a good leader and superior. And now, he saw Charlotte's welfare as something personal as well.

With a nod, he conveyed that it was time for her to leave, and he'd complete her tasks while she was out. He had a reputation to uphold, after all, and a palace to run. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a genuine one, as he let his eyes linger on her for a brief moment. Veritas may not be able to make Charlotte happy in the way she desired, but he could be a good ruler, a reliable comrade, and, perhaps, a friend in need.

"Now, go. Rest. Recover. We'll see each other when you're ready." With those words, Veritas relinquished any further argument, watching from afar as she reluctantly complied.

And so, he left to attend to the affairs of the day, keeping Charlotte in his thoughts, silently wishing her a swift recovery. In the background, something shifted within the sovereign. He had gained a new perspective on, not love, but caring for a human.

But, a week had passed since that day, and Charlotte still had not returned back to court. A few servants had come in now and then to alert Veritas of her condition, but each time he was informed, she just seemed to be getting worse for wear. Apparently, no medicines were working, no amount of rest or herbs were helping at all, and the doctors that visited her couldn't even provide a diagnosis.

Veritas tried to focus on his work, but his thoughts kept darting to Charlotte's health. A week was a long time to be away from court, and he had grown worried. He had made it his job to ensure her well-being, and he was failing as he couldn't reverse her predicament. Veritas cleared his thoughts, his composure returning. He would not let his worries show at the palace. It wouldn't be fair to his duties and the people who depended on him. He needed to remain his resolute self. Only after locking the doors of his study, did he relent and pick up a quill and parchment. He needed to check on her, despite their awkward previous encounter.

With a pen stroke, he wrote to the chief physician of the kingdom an order to gather all details possible about the Lady’s condition. He inquired about her specific symptoms and the medicines prescribed. If a regular doctor couldn't cure her, perhaps he could. Then, with a second letter, he requested the presence of a herbalist, another scholarly in botanical science, that could assist in formulating a new concoction with both the medicinal herbs from the royal land and the ancient knowledge he possessed.

After he had sent out the letters, Veritas went to his library, pouring over old records of herbs and cures from ancient and modern times. He feared he was too late, but he wouldn't accept defeat so easily. As a prince, he had witnessed and survived the test of time, refused to let Charlotte's life fade before his eyes. Fueled by a sense of responsibility and, he dared not admit, care for her, Veritas looked for answers. He vowed a solution would be found, he wouldn't rest nor stop until he secured Charlotte's health. Whether or not she loved him didn't matter anymore; she was a subject in his care, and he would revert to his resources to help her recover.

Surprisingly, when the physician wrote him back about her symptoms, they were most unusual, like no other disease or malady before. It mainly seemed to be affecting Charlotte's lungs, hence the various coughing fits. But, the strange part was that she had begun to cough up blood, and petals. Like that of a flower. But, no herbalist had ever provided her with anything with flora in its ingredients, which proved her case to be even more difficult and an even more puzzling enigma.

Veritas read through the scroll, narrowing his eyes as he observed the unique symptoms. Coughing up blood was a severe issue, but flowers? It was an entirely unprecedented case. However, as perplexing as it was, it didn't deter the royal. His resolve to help Charlotte remained unwavering. Flowers, a somewhat celestial association, brought an idea to mind. He wondered if the godly domain had an influence on this illness. Veritas knew of several ancient afflictions that correlated with the gods' interferences. He scribed a brief note to an advisor, asking them to consult their knowledge and retrieve any information related to melding divine essence maladies with mortal symptoms.

Thus, a plan began to form, blurred lines between the divine and mortal, an ancient illness mixing with his kingdom. Veritas, with sheer determination, set on a path towards discovering a cure for Charlotte's baffling condition. He would not fail her. This was, perhaps, the first emotion-driven quest the prince had undertaken, and he was bound to succeed or die trying. 

But, even as more weeks and months ticked by, her condition never seemed to lighten or get better. What was worse, was that now instead of coughing up just petals, Charlotte was now regurgitating floral buds and even flowers in full bloom. The coughing was almost constant, another report told him.

Veritas’ heart clenched, a burning sensation surging through his chest as the reports of Charlotte's condition deteriorated. He was failing to save her, and as the days, weeks, and months continued to pass, she continued to fall victim to the unknown malady. He couldn't bring himself to give up hope, however, and instead, he sought solace through intense research and the summoning of various medical experts—even those outside of his kingdom’s domain. In his long days and nights, he pored over ancient scrolls and texts, seeking answers as to why she was afflicted in such a manner. With every new report, he felt his desperation grow. He would spare no resources, no sacrifice, to save her. If he needed to dive into the deepest seas, he would. If he needed to tread upon the moonlit paths of dreams, he'd do that too.

Veritas’ resolve to save Charlotte grew into a fire that burned within him. He ordered boats, ships, and his men to be sent in search of the rarest herbs, gathering all the information regarding floral bloom maladies, and bringing specialists to his court to seek answers. No single avenue remained unexplored. In his study, he was almost a shadow of his former self. Gone was the composed, almost detached, magistrate. He had become consumed by Charlotte's condition, often not sleeping, and barely eating, since he took a personal stake in saving her. He systematically checked and re-checked the data in search of patterns, inconsistencies, or something that others had missed.

The once-unyielding sovereign was showing cracks. Each passing day that Charlotte didn't recover weighed heavily on his scarred heart. As the leader of his realm, Veritas knew better than anyone that sometimes things sank beneath the surface, never to be recovered. But he could not let that happen to Charlotte, his heart refused to allow it. 

Then, one day, a particularly frightening piece of data surfaced. Charlotte was now seemingly suffocating with each breath, and the flowers she coughed up were no longer dry, but drenched in blood. This was the worst that her condition had presented thus far.

Veritas’ eyes scanned the parchment, his heartbeat racing as he absorbed the latest update. It was beyond dire, verging on the edge of nightmarish, Charlotte's condition worsening in unimaginable ways. He'd never seen or heard of anything like this. The sovereign felt a weight on his chest, threatening to suffocate him, just as Charlotte was, metaphorically speaking. He crushed the document, still not willing to admit his defeat. The chronicler gasped as the prince glared furiously, fury burning within his eyes. Veritas grabbed his attendant, who'd waited by the door, "Take me to her. Now."

Silently, the attendant obeyed, leading him to the place Charlotte was held. It took little time before they arrived, and his heart clenched seeing the once-robust woman, now barely holding onto life. His throat constricted as he took in her ashen skin, pallid lips, and hollowed eyes. If there was any man unfit to express his emotion, Veritas had been that man, but as he stood over the sick bed, a well of sorrow and regret swelled inside him.

Approaching the bed, he reached out a hand but hesitated, unsure of what to do. All he'd managed to do was watch her slowly fade away. The blame of her condition rested on him, he'd failed to protect her, even as she'd shown him vulnerability.

Once a being defined by his resolve and unwavering poise, Veritas was at his wit's end, and his composure began to crack. He cursed the heavens, why had he accepted to be one of the god’s instruments, why had he agreed to be the prince, if this was the price he had to pay? His heart began to ache, his grief slowly reaching to the very core of his being. If he couldn't even save Charlotte, how could he save others? His failures as Veritas Ratio, prince, and the sovereign of his realm began to haunt him. Tears streaked his face, hot and scalding as he reached out and grabbed her now fragile hand, kneeling beside the bed.

"My Lady...?" he asked in a soft tone, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Your...Highness...?" Charlotte said, turning her face to look at him, nearly gasping for each shaking breath. Her hazel eyes, once bright and full of life, were now dull and drained. And to think, she was barely into her twenties. "You...came..."

Veritas nodded, his voice barely audible as he replied, "I am here, My Lady," A tender, forlorn smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a small sign that despite his cold nature, this woman had carved a space in his heart.

"I should have done more," he whispered as he brushed his fingertips across her forehead, trying to smooth her hair—an action only those close perform. "Do not fear, Charlotte. I will find a cure, I promise. You will not die in vain." he said, his normally firm tone wavering but not breaking. Veritas might not be able to express love, but in that moment, he'd move heaven and earth to save her, to make amends.

"You gave me a chance to give, Charlotte, something I never thought I'd experience. I won't let that end here, not on my watch. I'll save you, I swear to you." His grip tightened around her hand, a silent plea for her to fight, to hold on just a little bit longer, for him. The fierce, unbridled will that so many feared in him now boiled within, fueled by a fierce need to save this woman, who dared to love him.

"Oh, Your Highness..." Charlotte continued, her own eyes brimming with tears. "You don't know how much this means to me but–" her sentence was cut off by another one of her described coughing fits, except now he got to see it in person. The flower that emerged from her throat was indeed drenched in blood, as the physician had described.

But, yet something so simple seemed so morbid and gory all the same. The flower even had a crown of thorns around it.

Veritas’ heart plummeted at the sight, a fresh torrent of despair and anguish surging through him. He'd failed her, and he could not find it within himself to look away from the gruesome display, the thorned flower a stark symbol of her suffering and pain. When the convulsion subsided, Veritas leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes meeting hers as he whispered.

"Forgive me, Charlotte. I'll find your cure, I'll end your suffering. You have my word," The sovereign's eyes shimmered with tears yet again, a display of emotion he'd never shown, even in decades past. Most would think he was hopeless, but Veritas was a creature of stubborn will and determination. He would not falter, not without trying everything within his power first. His tears moistened her forehead, a poignant trail of silent apologies, as he resolved to save her. He wouldn't let her down.

Charlotte's own tears began to fall as well, the scene of it all like a Renaissance painting of two doomed lovers, embracing death together. But that wasn't what they were, it was something they could never be. Not forbidden lovers, but lovers never meant to love each other in the first place.

"I know I don't have much time left," Charlotte managed to gasp out, her voice strained.

"You'll have all the time you need," Veritas spoke fervently, unwavering in his resolve. "I'm not going to let you go, Charlotte." The prince understood nothing of love, but what he now felt was powerful enough to confront the very gods themselves. For Charlotte, he'd wage war. With trembling hands, he cradled her face, his touch gentle, a contrast to his harsh demeanor. "You have given me a gift, a feeling I never thought I'd have. I'm going to fight for it. For you." He held her gaze, eyes ablaze with a newfound conviction, a bond between them forming in spite of the circumstances.

"You are worth every fight, Charlotte. You will survive. I promise you." Veritas pulled away slightly, a hint of determination etched in the lines of his face, a steeliness that hinted he wouldn't stop until he brought her back. It was a fight of epic proportions, a David vs. Goliath, yet he wouldn't relent. This was his purpose, and he'd see it through to the end.

A small smile graced her lips as Veritas cradled her head, and her eyes began to droop as her movements became more relaxed. "You lit up my days, Your Highness. You filled my dreams at night, made my every waking moment something to live for," she whispered, more tears streaming down her face, despite the weak smile she wore. Like the day when he had rejected her love for him, all of those months before. It seemed so long ago, like an eternity. Now, there was nowhere to go.

Charlotte slowly leaned up, pressing her lips against Veritas’, the sickeningly sweet taste of her blood on his lips. As he reciprocated her kiss, his heart was torn in two. He felt a warmth he never knew he craved, an affirmation he never expected to receive. Charlotte had loved him and confessed it with her final breath. A sorrowful warmth enveloped the sovereign, a flood of emotions that threatened to drown him in grief.

She leaned back after a moment, her eyes unfocused, seemingly dimming by the second as she looked up at him. "I love you, Veritas Ratio.” she whispered with a soft smile, before she went still. Her chest had stopped rising and falling, and her eyes had finally closed. But, that smile was still there, like she was still with him. But she wasn't. Not anymore.

When she fell still, Veritas’’ world crumbled in an instant. He didn't feel heartbreak; he felt numb, and yet, he screamed inside. Time seemed to freeze, as though the universe itself had halted, leaving him a witness to the fleeting beauty of life. Charlotte lay before him, lifeless—an inhuman act perpetrated by the divine seemed to have snuffed out the flicker of humanity that once danced in her eyes.

“No…no…no, no, no, no no no no!” 

Veritas held her close, stroking her hair with a tenderness that would have been unimaginable just months earlier. He could do nothing but hold her, tears pouring from his eyes in a river of mourning for his failure, blame, regret, and loss. The prince had committed one fatal error, he'd let someone in. His heart, once a barren desert, had now sprouted roots, only to watch them wither in the space of a breath.

His composure shattered, he wept as he'd never wept before, silent tears finally giving expression to the myriad of thoughts and emotions turbulently coursing through his breached defenses. He'd failed Charlotte, and he knew he'd carry that guilt forever, forever knowing he'd failed at something he wanted more than anything to succeed in. Then, he realized it. He loved her. Now, it was too late. He couldn’t save her. And it was his fault.

“I love you…” Veritas gasped between strangled sobs, holding her close, the heat of her body still present. “I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry…”

Veritas stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, trying to hold onto her for just a bit longer. This was what love was like. But why did it hurt him so? This was the price he paid for being such an insolent fool before. He felt like a king, stripped of his title and crown, and left a hollow shell of the man he once was. But, Charlotte still somehow found a way to comfort him, even after death. A birdsong could be heard from the window, and as Veritas turned to look, he saw a Violet-Backed Starling. Her favorite bird.

When the birdsong reached his ears, Veritas' heart constricted. Charlotte's beloved bird, a Violet-Backed Starling, perched on the windowsill, beak agape, singing. He didn't know if it was a mere coincidence or if the universe was conspiring to remind him one final time of the woman who'd left an indelible mark on him. With trembling fingers, he wiped the tears off his cheeks. He'd lost Charlotte, but he wouldn't let her sacrifice be in vain. As much as his heart ached, beat a lament for the love he'd never find again, he'd honor her memory. Charlotte had given him her love, sacrificed herself for it, and Veritas would do the same. He'd carry her love as a badge, an unyielding reminder of the power of love, an emotion he now understood, however late it was.

Slowly, with painstaking effort, the sovereign rose, clutching the hand of the woman he'd loved but couldn't save. Even in defeat, he'd continue the fight. Vowing to keep her love alive, he'd wage a solitary war against fate. Through cruel irony, he'd finally found an emotion, one he didn't know how to handle or express, and he'd honor it by doing the only thing he knew. Fight. He’d fight to find the malady that had caused her demise, even if it took his dying breath to do so.

In death, she lived in his heart, and in life, he'd keep her safe. In defeat, he found a purpose, and it would fuel him until his time came to join her. 

Charlotte's funeral procession was held just a week after her death. Family, friends, and others were in attendance, and so was Veritas himself. The rain was pouring that day, just like the silent tears that rolled down his cheeks. He stood beside the graveside, a single hazel ribbon slipped into Charlotte's hand. A symbol of the bond he'd never forged before, a color to mirror the eyes he'd grown to love. He'd failed her, but he'd honor her final moments, a simple gesture that held more meaning than he'd ever had to express.

As the coffin lowered, Veritas watched, a heavy weight in his chest, a wound he'd carry to his dying day. He'd pledged his allegiance to her memory, but he'd failed as a man and as a prince. He'd failed in the one piece of humanity he'd finally discovered in a mundane existence. Yet, despite the ache, a newfound purpose bloomed in him. He'd feel her absence every day, with every heartbeat, with every breath he took. But from her love, he would find a way to interpret the emotions he'd never understood, fueling him to become the protector Charlotte had wanted him to be.

With a final tear rolling down his cheek, he bowed his head, sliding a hand through his hair, a ritual he'd never performed, expressive, unguarded. For one last time, he whispered her name, a benediction to mark the end of her earthly journey, promising to follow soon.

But, somehow, in a means of grace, the universe let him know that Charlotte was still very much with him. Whether it would be her Violet-Backed Starling, her favorite song suddenly appearing on the radio, it was like she was there with him, even in the cold grasp of death. He visited her grave every day. Every dawn, every dusk, it was a sort of comforting ritual. 

Over time, Veritas’ wound started to mend, a scar on his heart where Charlotte once lived. It remained a constant reminder, a testament to love and loss, but with each visit to her graveside, the light of her memory lingered a little brighter. Charlotte wasn't just a gravestone in a cemetery; she was forever intertwined with his identity. As he sustained his visits, a small cluster of Violet-Backed Starlings began to follow him, congregating near Charlotte's tombstone, as though they too grieved for her. The sight did little to assuage his pain, but it brought with it a sense of solace, of companionship in his sorrow. Like her, they'd become a sort of anchor, a semblance of her presence in the world.

Music too provided comfort. Her favorite songs, played on the radio, on the streets, filled the void she had left, reminding Veritas that they'd shared something pure and wonderful. Through the anguish, he wove an intricate tapestry of remembrance, surrounding himself with her presence. Mystical happenings and coincidences became commonplace, and he'd come to understand that her spirit, as much as her life, would weave through his days to come. Losing her had been a tragedy, but her love had furnished his soul with the capacity to endure.

He had failed Charlotte, yet she'd given him something he'd never sought—purpose, love, and a wounded heart to remind him to fight for others, to protect the innocent. For all his power as a royal, Charlotte's love proved one of the greatest forces he'd faced, an unseen hand guiding him toward a more compassionate, loving self. 

Then, one night, it was like the unthinkable happened. He heard her voice singing in the halls of his palace, even through the pouring rain outside. He knew Charlotte's voice anywhere, since it was a habit that she used to sing occasionally as she resided in court, a quirk which Veritas had grown fond of. He stood still, a startling jolt of disbelief mingling with overwhelming hope. The sound of her voice, as clear as day in his palace, brought him to his feet. It was Charlotte's gentle, sweet melody, ringing through the halls, evoking memories of their time together.

Veritas’ long strides carried him through the halls, toward the sound of her voice. His heart raced, a palpable beat in the air as he went in search of the ethereal shadow of the woman he'd loved. Steps echoed as he explored—the chambers, the walls, the gentle swoosh of water that seemed to amplify the song's notes. Then, he found her. Well, merely an apparition of her. She was dancing alone in his ballroom, wearing a magnificent violet gown. She no longer looked sick, but as alive and well as the day they first met. Her gaze turned to look at him, as he entered the ballroom, and that same warm smile spread across her face.

He rushed over to her, the unyielding grief of the past days splintering into a million cracks. Veritas spun her around, holding her close, his laughter echoing throughout the room, feeling the warmth of her apparition. It was a physical impossibility, yet, his brain could no longer discern the difference between reality and illusion. All he knew was that he'd found her in a way that he'd never thought was possible.

In the swirl of dance, there was laughter, a resonant crescendo that echoed through the grand ballroom. Tears streamed down the prince’s face, mingling with his laughter. Charlotte, even as a breath of memory, had stirred an unrestrained joie de vivre in Veritas; it was a moment, ephemeral as the wind, yet ageless as the tides. 

"I missed you, mon amour..." Charlotte's spirit whispered, her form surprisingly warm for a ghost.

"And I have missed you more than I could ever articulate," Veritas whispered back, in tandem with the sway of their dance. The room, bathed in moonlight, seemed to pulsate with every beat, the rhythm of their hearts, the infinitesimal quakes their passage left in the very sands of time. It was a transcendent moment, one where reality, the law, and logic dissolved into a singular point of divine affection.

Veritas held her closer, savoring the sensation like a man dying of thirst in a barren desert. He couldn't taste her lips, couldn't feel her heartbeat, but it mattered little; he'd found her again. For a minute, a moment brief as a feather on the wind, he tasted love, happiness, and the bliss of reunion. Charlotte's whispered words, her form, and her expression, embedded themselves in his heart. This would remain his eternal balm of peace, his solace amongst the ashes of woe.

"I'll be back, my dear," Charlotte whispered to him, looking up at his face. "For every full moon, I shall wait for you here. Then, when dawn arrives, I must return to my rightful realm, until our next meeting."

Veritas’ heart leaped at Charlotte's promise, as he stopped their dance, gazing down at her, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He knew that Charlotte's visits would be once a month, as brief as they were. It wasn't fair, hardly enough for a man who'd lost his heart completely. But, for him, it was enough. It was the flame that illuminated his darkness, the beacon in his storm. He cupped her face gently, his thumb tracing her cheek, a silent pledge of the oath he'd made—to honor her memory, to love as she'd taught him. He'd never forget the promise of their monthly dances, a pact sealed in moonlight, and memory.

"Until then, my love, I'll await your return, my strength renewed by your visit," Veritas whispered back, a wistful smile tugging at the edge of his lips, an expression only felt by a man nurturing an insurmountable love. Charlotte then leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. Was this what it was like, to feel the kiss of a ghost, like old poems had said?

As Charlotte leaned in, her spirit pressing a kiss to Veritas’ lips, there was a sense of déjà vu, an echo of the first kiss they shared. It was like stolen memories, a wisp of something that shouldn't exist. Veritas’s lips tingled, the sensation akin to petals gently brushing against them, numbing and exhilarating. For an instant, as their lips parted, his love had materialized, felt in that kiss. As the apparition of Charlotte faded from view, leaving him alone, the kiss remained, imprinted on his lips, a memento of their love. It would be his solace amid grief, his compass in a sea of sorrow. Every month, on the full moon, he would remember the sensation, and it would keep him sane.

Lingering in the ballroom, Veritas’ eyes met the empty space where Charlotte had danced, the memory of her kindness, sincerity, and love reflected in their depths. He would keep their dance alive in his heart, returning to it every full moon, as Charlotte promised. It would be his ritual of remembrance, a sacred vow to protect her legacy. And, as she promised, every full moon, she returned, her apparition's voice calling him through the halls, right back to the ballroom once more.

The full moon, a celestial symbol of everlasting affection, marked the return of Charlotte's spirit, her malachite eyes alight in the moon's pale radiance. With the rhythm of the dance, of their whirling embrace, Veritas was given respite, a sanctuary from the monotony of earthly duties and responsibilities. Here, in the transcendent expanse of starlight, love, and song, he became a mere man, lost in the dream of romance, mirroring the primitive pull of humanity.

Each dance was an echo of the last, punctuated with Charlotte's warm smile, her cheeks flushed as they twirled. She'd whisper into his ear, and he'd respond, their shared secret, a pact that bound them together in a state of enchantment. The whispers of love, the fragile touch of her spirit, would leave an indelible impression on Veritas’ heart. Sunrise, a fiery benediction, would dissolve Charlotte's apparition, sending her back to her realm, leaving Veritas alone, pining for the next full moon. As days turned into weeks, and months passed, the ritual remained unbroken, a constant in his quest to honor and memorialize Charlotte's memory.

As the years slipped by, the people came and went, the world and the kingdom evolved, but the gossamer thread of Charlotte's love remained unbroken, untarnished. The full moon, the call of her violet-backed starling, the sweet fragrance of lavender—all these served as silent whispers of her enduring presence.

In the presence of Charlotte's ethereal spirit, he became human, feeling the raw, unflinching emotion that love imbues, the very emotion he thought he'd never understand. Charlotte's visits, a whispered prayer of love, created ripples, transforming not just the heart of Veritas but the very heart of his realm.

These nocturnal dances, these stolen moments, borne in the gentle embrace of moonlit nights, laid the cornerstone of Veritas’ devotion, a mixture of justice, passion, and protection. Charlotte's spirit bred a symbiotic love, a reciprocity, where he protected the innocent and upheld justice as a testament to her life, a balm to his soul. As the years marched on, so too did the ballroom dance. The stars shifted, the world turned, yet the rhythm of their footsteps, the caress of her spirit upon his, remained.

And yet, even as Veritas’ hairs began to turn gray, and he wasn’t as graceful like his youthful days, his beloved was still there, waiting for him. She would always welcome him back with her melodic voice and open arms, and danced with him until the dawn reared its head.

Even on his deathbed, Veritas wasn’t afraid. While he never found love on the mortal plane, or started a family of his own, he had found all of the solace and love he needed in his beloved Lady, who was waiting for him in the realm beyond. And even as he passed on, they still danced in that ballroom. But now, it was every night. Every night, if one would listen closely, they could hear the faint music while the two danced in the celestial moonlight. Every night, if you stayed quiet enough, you could hear their voices, reminiscing about their mortal lives. And, every night, if you were lucky enough to get a glimpse, you could see the two of them, spinning and waltzing around the palace’s ballroom.

Like they never even left in the first place. They looked so happy, gazing into one another’s eyes as their ghosts danced around the opulent chamber, like they were the only two in the world that mattered. But, to them, that was true. Even in death, the only company they needed was one another. In death, for eternity, they waltzed and danced from sunset to rise.

 And that was enough.

@glitchtricks94 @v4mp-wife come get y'all food >:)

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