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Letters of Compunction

IN THE COVER IK THEY LOOK TWELVE THEY ARE 16 HELP Easter, a prince trapped inside his room, his mother's lapdog, has many faces. He doesn't need to close his eyes when plunging a knife in somebody's chest, or ripping off someone's fingers, one by one. But, as secrets pile up like pebbles in a jar, they are bound to spill at some point. And, those pebbles slowly spill, suffocating him and tearing at his identity and morality. (Easter's not the only mc but eh) Prequal: The Study Room

Rosewater15 · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
56 Chs

A Second Letter from the Butler

Good evening, Easter,

Is your side of the castle always that cold? I find it quite refreshing to be with you, since you seem so carefree. I wonder if Mother seemed to notice, since recently it feels like she strapped her loyal dog in chains, as if paranoid that it would run away. Perhaps she found out about your trips out of the castle. (I wonder who told her)

Indeed I have met Elizabeth Marion, her father is a rather distinguished duke. The way you described her is true, although to me you sound smitten in love. She is engaged, is she not? It would be unfortunate if you love an already taken woman. Yet, the royal family's greed shows no end, and if mother allowed it, you could pluck any pretty flowers too easily.

The ball Mother hosted will be in three days. Will you be able to master her by then? I'll give you some tips: She covers her mouth in shock, and raises her left hand to defend herself first. I wish you well, so well I cannot recognize you.

Recently, have you been sad? I sometimes see you roam the main castle with a distant look in your eyes, and you pass me quite coldly. Of course, it's a custom now that we ignore each other, yet I still feel rather hurt. If only you could glance my way, it would make me feel better.

And, about the children. Perhaps one day we were like them, but when they grow up, they must work and take care of their duties, and will reminisce about their childhoods too. Maybe you are just missing my company, dear brother. If only I had less work to do.

You should be the crowned prince, Easter. I feel you would do better than me. My life is more suited outside, brandishing my sword, while you fight better with a pen and your tongue. And, you seem much brighter than I am. Isn't this so cliche? The crowned prince doesn't wish to be the crowned prince.

Well, I guess I'm learning. And these chimerical thoughts I have won't change our positions. I was born a few seconds before you, so I must bear the weight of the kingdom on my shoulders. Oh, how woeful I feel. Please come comfort your poor brother.

Mother is calling,

Osiris.