The Mystical Seer

Athan's heart pounded aloud, almost banging his ears. He glanced at the porcelain flooring before his eyes closed.

'To hell with this quiet yet suffocating place.' He clasped his hands, trembling from the sudden urge to do crazy things at this point.

The rest of the words left unspoken as he tried to muster his courage to bring it up to her. When he thought it wasn't enough, he looked at her in the eyes. Even with his throat got hoarse and dry, he went for it.

"I'm sorry."

Meanwhile, his sincere words had almost Mystique slipped off the grimoire between her hands.

"...Is all I wanted to say, I don't mean to antagonize you or whatever you thought."

In that brief moment, Mystique's mask fell off—eyes glistened, and lips parted, somewhat trembling.

"I realized that, possibly, your ideas could work," Athan trailed off his voice with a gaze carefully sizing every reaction she had. "You could mean well, but it doesn't mean we couldn't change the way it is, no?"

It was that point.

The crown prince saw the vulnerability in her eyes.

Athan, as much as he wanted to admit, he was that narrow-minded—the disaster that awaited them. Although even if he saw the good outcome out of her hysterical and nefarious act, he wanted none of it as he knew there must be another solution to address the problem.

A lot of it, he found out more than halfway through the war until the era of peace; in the end, what he believed so was right.

Somewhere in him believed that maybe if he would be supportive and redirect Mystique's course of action, they would be on the same page.

However, as he let out the myriad of emotions along with his impulsive actions, it got the best of him. Thinking back, he rubbed his forehead.

Before he could drown in regret, a cold breeze brushed his head—almost like a pat; he arched his neck only to see her smile.

He got stumped from such smiles. It was a breath of fresh air to see the kind of smile she had.

Not out of vengeance and pain from others, but the genuine happiness for the validation she deserved.

Her aura shifted in subtlety, almost letting her guard down in front of him.

After all that he did to her, never did he imagine it would turn out like this.

'Was it sorry for all she wanted to hear?'

He knew he had to strike while the iron was hot, so he readied himself when, unexpectedly, Mystique spoke out of turn.

"I feel the same way."

Her voice slipped out again; there was an allure to it.

Fascinated from what Athan heard, he found himself unable to speak the right words and just left him gaping his mouth and eyes. Aside from that, she also had to put affront with the same sentiments.

"I'm sorry as well," she muttered again.

It made his heart skip a beat again. Someone his thought process got thrown out of the window as he couldn't pick up the words he ought to convey.

As much as he tried to wrack his brain from the sudden mental block, it brought him to the last time he heard her voice.

However inaudible, he got enchanted and drawn into her whims.

From the moment they spent on the bed.

He knew he had to avoid such a dangerous stratagem the first time around, causing his downfall. The second life he had forced him to do so, with the help of Sylvester, as it was the only way to bring her to eternal slumber.

Now that she woke up, trying to live well for as long as she could. Athan train of thoughts led him to pluck out the heavy burden out of his chest unknowingly.

Withal, Athan beamed and noticed that the atmosphere that lingered between them became better than it was before.

"I want to start afresh with you—"

[Not so fast, Your Highness.]

Mystique interjected, raising her palm for him to halt his advances. The moment she scribbled on her grimoire had him all giddy up, avoiding further gesturing from what she wanted to tell him this time.

[I don't want to cause more burden in your plan for the future. If that would make you successful, then so be it.]

Wrinkles on Athan's forehead formed, for such a statement she delivered was too vague for his objectives.

On the other hand, Mystique pressed her red matte lips—which he couldn't let go of his stare from the kind of lips she had that was as red as his eyes and made him gulp so hard.

[I hereby swear by my name and title, Lady Mystique Violette Blackwell, not to disturb you from this moment onwards.]

For a while, his body tensed—even worse enough to notice the twists and all from her vows, of which he concluded.

'So, she doesn't want to live her life as a villain? Did that push her for what awaited her?' He gazed down again, pondering the series of questions that popped into mind. 'So, she's just like me then!'

Athan knew how bleak the future holds.

Not just once.

But twice, and even after all he did, a lot of lives were lost—in no way would he accept they were all for naught.

Thinking about how Mystique was the worst villain in his life, it was simply laughable and bound to take it to the grave.

He barked at the wrong tree.

For he didn't look too far ahead and considered all sides; Right now, he would do whatever it takes to achieve that, even if it meant sacrificing a part of himself.

Although, it got him curious about what made her do so, an impetus for change. To what extent it was then.

'But no! This can't be! Just when I needed her the most on my side!'

Later in his lifetime, he found out that she had a special ability that only a few witches and wizards inherited: Precognition.

'The Mystical Seer...'

Compared to him, her powers were the real deal, proclaimed and gossiped by the people for his ordeals.

The moment he jolted his head up, upon seeing her amicable face, her hands already scribbled with the words that sent sparks of electrocution deep into his skin.

[... For I have several conditions: I will leave you alone if you do the same way.]

Thus, her further words began to shook him down the core.