Little author's note: I was listening to Wildflower by Billie Eilish while editing this chapter, and was nearly brought to tears since the song fit the mood so well ㅠㅠ
I've done chapter songs in my previous work, so if you're reading this chapter, I highly recommend listening to the song while reading this. It really puts you in that "sad" and "melancholic" mood which is perfect for the themes that will be broached in this chapter. I also want to give a quick trigger warning; alcoholism, and substance abuse will be mentioned here so reader's discretion is strongly advised if these kinds of topics make you uncomfortable. That's all from me, happy reading.
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Aria shook her head. "No Ceremus. This isn't a simple cold. He suffers from a rare, incurable disease. Your father only has a few months to live."
Ceremus' smile faltered. He blinked, once, twice, as if trying to make sense of the words. "What?" The word barely left his lips, hoarse and uncertain
He believed she was joking for a second, but when he saw the serious expression on her face, he knew it was far from it.
"…I-I don't understand…how can this be?!" He exclaimed.
As far as he could tell, his father was one of the healthiest men he knew. Just the other day, he saw him training in the courtyard, so how could he be sick?
"Are you certain you are not mistaken?"
Aria shook her head. "No child. Your father actually checked with a physician first before telling me." She said.
Ceremus' eyes grew wide. His father never used the royal physician in the palace since he would also go straight to this mother if he needed healing. She was the goddess of healing and protection, after all. So the fact he had hidden this from her meant it was true, but Ceremus refused to believe it.
"I must see father!" He shouted as he got up abruptly.
"Ceremus!" His mother called, but he could no longer hear her.
"Break the connection at once!" He ordered a maidservant who glanced at the goddess in a panic.
Aria nodded silently. Then the connection ended.
The young Prince raced to the palace, not bothering to give his usual greetings to the guards.
He breezed past the servants and officials and made his way straight to his father's study. Zazel stood at the door. His eyes widened when he saw Ceremus running towards him.
"Your Highness!" He exclaimed, "you mustn't go in. "His Majesty is in a meeting—" the attendant started, but the angry prince interrupted him, pushing him aside and bursting into the room with unprecedented force.
The two men in the room looked up in surprise. "Ceremus?" His father called, worry flashing in his grey eyes.
The Prince faltered in his steps as he took in his father's appearance. He noticed that although he looked to be in good shape, his brown complexion looked paler than usual, and his under eyes looked dark. It looked as if he had gotten little sleep. Not only that, but he looked thinner than usual.
The longer he looked, the more frail and lifeless his father seemed. How had he not noticed it before?
His face crumbled as his breath hitched, a deep sinking feeling erupted in his chest.
"…Father," he said, his lips quivering with emotion.
Peleus got up from his chair, his brows furrowed as he looked at his son.
"What's wrong?" He asked as he made his way towards him.
The man he was having a meeting with—his attendant took one look at the situation and left—leaving the father and son alone.
It was only until he heard the door close he placed a hand on Ceremus' shoulder, bringing him closer. "What is it son?" He asked again.
Ceremus said nothing for a moment, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat. It was as if he had swallowed a large metal ball, enabling him to speak. His father was a patient man and waited until Ceremus was ready.
"….I…I heard from mother…" he said, but couldn't bring himself to finish.
Peleus took in a breath, and without his son having to finish those words, he knew what he was talking about. A sigh escaped from his lips, and he pulled away from the young Prince.
"I see. So she's finally told you." He said in a soft voice.
Ceremus' head snapped up when he heard this. "Finally? What… do you mean this is something the both of you have known about already? For how long?!"
"…."
"For how long, father?!"
"Three months." He finally said.
Ceremus took in a breath. "Three months? You've been sick for that long?! How…why didn't you tell me?"
Peleus sighed as he wore a sad smile. "I didn't want to burden you with this news. You've been preparing for your ascension all this time. I wanted you to be focused." He said.
"H-How could you say that, father?! Is my ascension more important than your own health?!" Ceremus exclaimed.
Peleus smiled. "The world doesn't stop simply because I'm ill, son. As the royal family, we have a duty to our people, and we have passed that duty down to you. You mustn't worry about this old man too much. Life is a cycle, and just like all cycles, they must end." He said.
"But father, you are still young. You can't die now, not when I haven't even taken the throne yet." He said, as his voice trembled. "How could I possibly do this without you?"
Peleus felt his eyes sting from the tears he was trying to hold back and brought his son into his arms. Ceremus was right, he was too young to die. He was only forty years old, with a long life ahead of him. Of course, he didn't want to leave his son just yet, not when there was still so much he wanted to do for him. It was the reason he felt so pained and couldn't bring himself to tell Ceremus. He knew how much his son loved and valued him, but unfortunately, life had other plans for him. It was his time to go.
The young Prince felt like his world was crumbling down. He tried hard not to let the tears that were threatening to fall down his face out, choosing to harden his face and let his emotions in. He knew just how hard it was for his father having to go through all of this. Having him cry in his arms would do him more harm than good.
He needed to be strong, but that was easier said than done. With each passing day after that, his father's health kept deteriorating. It just went to show how much of a strong front he had put up in order not to alert Ceremus that something was wrong.
No matter how much medicinal herbs he made his father ingest, no matter how much he begged and pleaded to his mother to save his father, nothing could be done.
His father would pass, leaving him all alone in this world. Yes, he had his mother, but because she was a goddess, she wasn't an active part in Ceremus' life. The one who had truly raised him was his father. And the thought of his better half, his best friend leaving, made a small part of Ceremus die inside.
As the scent of burning incense, medicinal herbs and candlelight embraced the room, Ceremus knelt by his father's bed, his trembling hands hovering above Peleus' frail body.
His health had deteriorated over the span of a few weeks, and Ceremus watched with a broken heart as his father started to succumb to the disease.
The young Prince has been deathly afraid of using his powers out of fear of failing. But seeing the way his strong and powerful father had become, the young man gritted his teeth as he closed his eyes, preparing to summon his powers.
A soft glow radiated from his palms, the divine energy crackling from his fingertips with intensity. Despite his doubts, he had been working hard over the past few weeks to grow his powers. Even if he was only a half blooded god, he still had his mother's healing abilities coursing through his veins—if there was any time to use them, it was now.
Peleus' chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his skin waxen and cold. Ceremus clenched his jaw. He could still save him. It wasn't too late.
He pressed his hands against his father's chest, forcing his power into him. The golden light surged, enveloping the king in warmth. Ceremus felt it flow from him, pouring into his father's failing body, silently begging him to heal.
Heal, please, heal.
For a moment, hope flickered in his chest as he saw the glow pulse. Some colour seemed to be coming back to Peleus' now white face ….
But then, it dimmed.
The light flickered weakly before vanishing without a single trance.
Ceremus' breath caught in his throat. He tried again, forcing more power into his father this time, using every last bit of energy he had. Sweat started to form on his forehead, dripping down the sides of his face, yet he persisted.
The golden energy erupted again before dissipating once more.
No. no, no, no—
Peleus groaned softly, shifting under the blankets. The sudden movement made Ceremus stop as he looked down at his father. His tired eyes fluttered open, meeting his son's gaze.
"Ceremus…" his voice was barely above a whisper, rasping like sandpaper. "Enough, son."
Ceremus shook his head. "No, I can still—"
A weak smile tugged at Peleus' lips as he reached up, his cold fingers brushing against his son's cheek, nearly sending a shiver down his spine.
"It's alright," he murmured. "You can't fight the will of the gods. My fate has already been sealed. It's time for you to accept it."
Ceremus felt his heart sink deep into his chest. He watched as his father opened his mouth for what would be the last time. "…Death is not the end. We shall see each other…once…again…"
His father's hands fell limply at his sides, his eyelids lowering once more.
The young Prince sat frozen in place. His eyes were now vacant, devoid of any feeling or emotion. He slowly got up, his hands curled into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. Yet the stinging sensation he felt didn't come close to the pain he was enduring inside.
He staggered to his feet, movements stiff and mechanical. At the same moment, the healers rushed in, doing their best to appease the king's pain. Ceremus couldn't bear to watch. He knew that if his powers were useless, then these healers were no better.
He turned sharply on his heel and walked out.
When he finally took the throne, he couldn't bring himself to celebrate or be happy. Everything felt pointless to the king at that point, but he pushed through, for his father's sake. He held on for as long as he could until one day he realized there was no point in fighting anymore.
"Why should I keep trying? Why should I work so hard when the person I was doing all of this for is no longer here?" He said to himself.
And that thought was all it took for Ceremus to spiral.
Ceremus found himself in the palace wine cellar before he even realized where his feet had taken him.
The air was cool, and the scent of aged oak and fermented fruit tingled his nose. Shelves of golden chalices and goblets lined the walls, but his eyes barely saw them. His gaze was fixed on the barrels stacked neatly in the corner.
He had never indulged in alcohol before. His father had always warned him against the dangers of excess, of letting his mind and judgment be clouded by it. He never understood his warnings before, but now…
He needed the numbness. The ability to forget and erase his pain.
With shaking hands, he grabbed a goblet and poured himself a drink. The liquid was dark, thick, and potent. He hesitated for only a moment before bringing it to his lips.
For the first time in his life, he took a sip of wine, savoring its bittersweet taste. He felt the burning sensation of the alcohol in his chest and winced at the foreign feeling. He regretted ingesting the fermented drink for a moment until he felt a light buzz clouding his mind. He momentarily forgot the pain he was feeling and a strange calmness entered his spirit.
He furrowed his brows, grimacing at the sensation as he glanced down at his golden cup; the drink sloshing around as he shook it.
He hesitated before bringing the cup to his mouth once more. The entire contents were ingested, and Ceremus felt a warmth settle into his stomach. That momentary memory loss brought him over the edge, temporarily allowing him to numb his pain and dull his thoughts. For the first time since his father's death, he felt nothing.
A vicious cycle then began. The people in the palace watched as their king crumbled into madness, his attitude changing with each passing day.
"Bring me more wine!" He would shout every night. He drank and drank until he completely consumed all the wine they had stored inside the palace.
That night, as he was finally of sound mind for the first time in months, Ceremus felt all the emotions he had buried with the alcohol crashing down on him.
Tears fell from his eyes as he thought of his father. And at that moment he made a vow, "I will never give my heart to another. It hurts too much to love. The pain isn't worth it. Why love when you will only lose in the end?" He said to himself.
And yet, he had broken his own vow, though he hadn't given his heart to Hael just yet. He was on the verge of doing so.
But just like everything else in his life, his love was about to be taken away from him once more.
The minute Hael closed his eyes, the barrier crumbled, and the citizens of Trojas saw a sight they never thought they would see before. Their King, proud as he was, was on his knees, holding his fallen guard in his arms as a pool of tears dripped down his face.
Anthanasia let out a choked sob, and Loki, unable to believe what he was seeing, flew towards the pair, his body frantic as he saw the pool of blood near Hael's body.
"W-What is the meaning of this?!" He exclaimed.
Emotions overcame Ceremus, and he couldn't hear Loki's words. It was as if he was stuck in a daze, unable to move, unable to speak. Everything was a blur, and his grip on Hael's body only got stronger.
Even as Anemone approached him, assuring him that a doctor was on his way, he didn't move; he didn't react.
Even as the doctor checked his vitals and told the king Hael was unconscious, and was not dead yet, he didn't give a reply. As his guards tried to pry Hael's body away from him, he never let go.
Only when his body gave way under the shock and exhaustion, nearly collapsing on Hael, did he finally release his grip. As he closed his eyes, he prayed that all of this was but a dream, a hellish nightmare— that he would wake up and everything would be back to normal.
That Hael would welcome him with an enormous smile, that he would get to go on his midnight strolls with the guard by his side like usual, that he would get to hunt with him like usual. For he could no longer live in a world without him.