Young Love

In the intricate web of fate, Glaciem's ambitions seemed to intertwine with a glimmer of hope. Through his friendship with Marcella, he orchestrated a game of destiny.

His son, a young and promising soul, became a pawn in his father's quest for power. Bound by their noble bloodlines and an arranged betrothal, the son was thrust into a world of uncertainty.

Glaciem's wife, a beacon of compassion and love, could not bear to witness her husband's manipulations. She recognized the violation inflicted upon their innocent child and implored Glaciem to reconsider his wicked plans. But his heart had grown cold and callous, consumed by his insatiable hunger for the throne.

"You must not use our son for your wicked cause," she implored, her voice tinged with concern and desperation. The words carried the weight of a mother's fear for her child's well-being.

But Glaciem, blinded by his unwavering determination to seize the throne, remained adamant, brushing off his wife's worries with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"You speak of wickedness, yet you refuse to see the greatness that awaits our family. Just take a side and watch as I ascend the throne." he retorted, his voice dripping with arrogance. In his mind, his wife's resistance was inconsequential compared to the grandeur of his ambitions.

"If you do not stop, I shall expose you to the King and to the whole of the Fae Kingdom," she declared, her voice trembling with both determination and fear. She believed her words would serve as a wake-up call, a chance for Glaciem to redeem himself before it was too late.

But fate had a different plan in store. Unbeknownst to Glaciem's wife, her husband possessed a darkness that surpassed her wildest nightmares. In a moment of unthinkable betrayal, he silenced her plea with his own hands, casting her into an eternal slumber.

The poor wife, now forever lost in the realm of dreams, had fallen victim to the very cruelty she had sought to protect her son from. Little did Glaciem know, his actions had not gone unnoticed.

Unseen by his father, the young boy of merely five years old had watched the horrifying scene unfold before his innocent eyes. The weight of his father's heinous act settled upon his tiny shoulders, searing into his young mind an indomitable spirit and an unyielding thirst for justice.

...

"Why do you look so sad?" inquired Madonia, the compassionate princess, her curiosity piqued by the sight of the young Ambrose's melancholy gaze.

His tender heart and innocent mind could only lay blame upon the young faerie and her family for the tragedy that befell his mother. However, fear gripped him tightly, for he knew the consequences of defying his father, just as his dear mother had.

Ambrose remained silent, his gaze fixed upon Madonia, unable to find the words to express his sorrow and apprehension. Though he refrained from uttering any unkind words, his silence spoke volumes. Little Madonia, unaccustomed to being ignored, tilted her head ever so slightly, her curiosity burning brighter.

Accustomed to adoration and attention, Madonia felt an unfamiliar pang of empathy for the desolate boy. With a flick of her small delicate fingers, she summoned a swarm of birds crafted from shimmering violet energy.

The avian spectacles danced and twirled around Ambrose, casting a vibrant display of beauty and wonder. "Look, are they not beautiful?" Madonia asked, her smile stretching wide across her lips, her eyes gleaming with hope. She yearned to bring even a glimmer of joy to Ambrose's heavy heart and to subside the desolation she could feel in his aura.

Ambrose, though initially hesitant, allowed himself a brief moment to be captivated by the mesmerizing display. His eyes widened in astonishment as the birds weaved intricate patterns in the air, their vibrant hues reflecting in his own eyes.

He couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth, a respite from the overwhelming sadness that had consumed him upon his arrival at the Fae Palace, and Madonia could see that in his aura.

But still, Ambrose's guarded nature persisted. He glanced at Madonia for a fleeting moment, a mixture of longing and caution in his gaze, before huffing and looking away once again. The wounds inflicted upon him ran deep, and trust did not come easily.

"I do not like your father as well," little Madonia boldly declared, her words hanging in the air like a secret waiting to be unraveled. Ambrose's eyes widened, his surprise evident on his face. The audacity of such a statement from the princess left him both startled and intrigued.

Madonia couldn't help but chuckle at the astonishment that played across Ambrose's features. She recognized the weight of her confession and the significance it held between them. With a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, she lowered herself onto the lush grass in the royal garden, motioning for Ambrose to join her.

"I will tell you a secret," she said, her tone tinged with anticipation, "but for that, you shall promise to be my friend."

Ambrose hesitated for a moment, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. He couldn't help but feel drawn to the princess, to the possibility of having a friend who saw through the facade of his father's false kindness. With a nod, he sat down beside the little princess.

Satisfied with his response, Madonia leaned back, a playful smile gracing her lips. "You must promise not to disclose this to anyone," Madonia emphasized, her voice carrying a sense of gravity. "For this is my secret."

Ambrose's curiosity deepened as he fixated his gaze on Madonia, his heart yearning for answers.

With an arched eyebrow, Madonia continued, her voice filled with both solemnity and intrigue. "I can feel what others are feeling," she confessed. "When I look at your father, I sense a storm of anger and unyielding rage that consumes him, especially when his gaze falls upon my father. No matter how wide he smiles or how eloquently he praises, his true emotions burn with an intense hatred."

Madonia's revelation shook Ambrose to his core. Albeit young, Madonia had her unique abilities, and that had made her much more observant than a faerie of her age was supposed to be.

In that moment, Ambrose realized that he was not alone in recognizing his father's malevolence. Madonia's keen perception forged a bond of shared knowledge and empathy.

From that point forward, their friendship blossomed, nurtured by their shared experiences and unspoken understanding.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Ambrose found solace in his blossoming friendship with Madonia. Their meetings became more frequent, their laughter echoing through the corridors of the Fae Palace.

While Ambrose reveled in the joy and freedom of their friendship, unbeknownst to him, his father, Glaciem, was ceaselessly plotting his ascent to the throne. Over the passing years, Glaciem had cunningly gathered a loyal following, individuals enticed by the promises of power and prosperity once he claimed the crown.

Glaciem, consumed by his insatiable ambition, sought to exploit any small window of opportunity that would allow him to abdicate Nimbosus from his rightful place as king.

Four years passed in a whirlwind of joy and companionship, with Ambrose finding solace in Madonia's company.