Butterfly Reign

4. What You Think You Are Doing?

Prince Theseus hates him.

That is the conclusion Ranboo comes to a few days into his life at the Imperial palace.

Phil – His Imperial Majesty, as Theseus insists – told him a lot about his sons during the week they spent on their way back to the capital. From the heartwarming tales of a nostalgic parent, Ranboo’s imagination painted a sunny picture of a happy family. He was especially thrilled to meet Theseus, who was said to be the youngest of the three, and thus the closest to Ranboo’s age – theoretically, at least, since he still can’t remember his own birth date.  

“Theseus is a bit on the hardworking side,” Phil had warned him. “And might be... let’s say, quite a handful at times.”

Ranboo was too optimistic at the time to pay proper attention to the Emperor’s words. Even the sour expression on the face of a knight who accidentally overheard their conversation couldn’t discourage him enough. Ranboo likes Phil, and if Theseus was anything like his father, he was sure that they would get along great.

Here’s the deal, however – Theseus is nothing like Phil. When the Emperor smiles, his eyes are a warm summer sky, but the crown-prince’s stare is always a cold northern ocean. Ranboo tries to get on Theseus’ good side, he really does. But no matter how much effort he puts, the crown-prince doesn’t see him as anything more than dirt stuck under his nails.

In the end, Ranboo drops all his attempts to get Theseus to like him. In his Memory book, he writes down the crown-prince’s name, along with the words like ‘emotionless’ and ‘cruel’. Ranboo is sure that he’s not going to forget Theseus’ treatment either way, so it’s more of an act of resentment than anything else.

There is one good deed that the crown-prince had done for him, however, even if it wasn’t entirely purposeful. Ever since Theseus had shown him the way to the library, Ranboo couldn't stop thinking about the endless rows of books in thick leather covers. He comes here often, to pick a random folio, take in the smell of old ink, tinted with vanilla and underlying tones of mustiness. Rustling with the old, yellowish pages, and running a finger down the unfamiliar words, Ranboo patiently practices his reading skills.

He puts Phil’s writing lessons to use as well. At nights, instead of shaking and gasping after waking up from another nightmare, Ranboo reaches for his Memory book and sloppily writes down every detail that he can recall. Smell of salt and sweat. Suffocating dark space. Monotonous sway of the world around him as he struggles to swallow down the lump in his throat. This and many other things don’t make sense in retrospect, like pieces of a puzzle yet to be solved.

During their week’s long carriage trip, Phil used to comfort him after the worst of his nightmares. Apologies spilling from Ranboo’s mouth faster than they register in his mind and the thundering beat of his own heart both slow down with the Emperor’s reassuring words and careful touch. Even when the wakefulness comes, and the nightmares fade away, Ranboo doesn't want to leave Phil’s side.

The palace has its own rules, unfortunately. Here, Phil is almost always busy and can’t free more than a few hours of his time for him. 

“But you are the Emperor,” Ranboo blinks. “You can do anything you want, can you not?”

Phil looks at him with amusement and just a slightest tone of sadness. “That’s not exactly how it works, mate. As a ruler, my priority is, above anything else, to take care of the Empire and its citizens.”

Ranboo knows very little about how royalty works, but from what he has seen so far, what they mostly do is participate in long, boring meetings, and read through tons and tons of paperwork. “Prince Theseus seems to be doing just fine on his own,” he says, crossing his arms and looking away. He then mumbles, mostly to himself, “Besides, he doesn’t appreciate your company as much as I do.”