A Tortured Past

**TRIGGER WARNING**

—Twenty Years Earlier—

Lucian arrived at his father’s bedchamber, carrying a tray of food in his hands. Annoyed at being assigned such a menial task, he couldn't help but feel like a mere slave. However, his father had insisted that he personally deliver his mother's breakfast that day. While passing by, he overheard his father mentioning that his mother was not well, leading Lucian to assume that she had fallen ill with a cold or some other strange disease that often afflicted fragile humans.

As he entered the room, he could hear his mother sobbing, which only reinforced his desire to leave. But upon spotting him, she quickly wiped away her tear-streaked cheeks and straightened herself up, a warm smile lighting up her sad eyes.

"Hello there," she greeted him with genuine endearment.

Despite her sorrowful expression, her face brightened at the sight of him. Lucian, who rarely responded to her, remained silent as he placed the tray on the table beside her and uncovered the dishes.

"That smells absolutely delicious," she beamed.

Lucian took the utensils, wrapped inside a cloth napkin, and began cutting into the ham - just another order from his father. He couldn't understand why his mother couldn't do it herself. She certainly appeared well enough to him.

"You're such a good boy," she praised, her voice filled with warmth. "And you're growing so big... and so handsome too. How old are you now? Thirteen?"

Lucian rolled his eyes, irritated by the mistake. "I'm eight," he replied curtly.

She chuckled heartily, her laughter echoing in the room. "I know, silly... I was only joking."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, leaning in closer to him. Her eyes sparkled with longing. "I haven't seen your brother in four days. Maybe you could ask your father to let me see him, hmm? I think he might listen to you."

Lucian shook his head, firm in his decision. "Aunt Natalie is taking care of Mason. Father says you're not well and shouldn’t be around him right now."

“Not well? No... it’s not like that,” she replied softly, her voice filled with a hint of sadness. “I just want to see my baby. He isn’t even a week old yet. He should be with his mother.”

"You don't have to worry about him; he seems perfectly fine to me," Lucian replied, hoping she would let the matter rest.

Her bright smile, which usually hid the emptiness in her eyes, quickly faltered. Lucian, still young and naïve, couldn't fully grasp his mother's unusual behavior. He simply attributed it to her not feeling well.

"I can finish doing that?" She sniffled, holding her hand out. Her fingers trembled slightly as she requested the knife.

Although she appeared fully capable of handling the task herself, there was an unsettling vibe emanating from her that made Lucian uneasy.

“It’s okay…” She assured, noticing his hesitation. “I can cut a piece of meat. I've cut yours countless times before... haven't I?”

He glanced back and forth between the knife and her cryptic stare, unsure of what to do. After a few moments of contemplation, he slowly placed the knife into her outstretched hand.

As she looked at the knife, a strange mixture of fascination and sadness flickered in her sparkling green eyes. It was as if those eyes were trying to convey a story, a tale of both despair and liberation. Only, this story wouldn't have a happy ending... not for her... not for anyone.

She lifted her gaze to meet his, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "Thank you for visiting me this morning and bringing my breakfast," she said softly. "You're a sweet boy, you know that? I know that you may feel the need to be this tough guy all the time, but it's the strongest men who lead with their hearts. Never forget that... alright?"

Her hand reached out, aiming to caress his cheek. However, he instinctively pulled back, sidestepping her touch. He would never forget the look in her eyes, as if his recoil had shattered the last remnants of her hopeful heart. She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and vulnerability, her lower lip trembling as she fought back tears.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to flinch away from her, but he would soon live to regret it. Emotions were not his strong suit, and he had never been taught how to understand or express them in a healthy manner. They simply made him incredibly uncomfortable. In that particular moment, instinct guided him to do the only thing that felt right: he swiftly left the room, never once glancing back at the woman who loved him with all of her heart... unconditionally.

Later that morning, the sound of commotion reverberated through the halls. Intrigued, he ventured out of his room and discovered a flurry of slaves frantically scurrying near his father's chambers. His curiosity piqued, he approached the scene, only to find a woman standing between him and the door.

"Please, My Prince, don't go in there," she pleaded. "Wait for your father."

Telling a privileged child not to do something only made them want to do it all the more. With a rebellious spirit, he pushed past the old woman and walked right on in, brushing off her warning as if it were mere background noise. Little did he know, the consequences of his curiosity would forever haunt him.

His father burst into the room in a frenzy, clutching his chest as if it were being gripped by an invisible force. He fell to his knees beside his mate, her lifeless body sprawled across the floor in a chilling display of tragedy. As his trembling hands reached for her, he noticed the blood-soaked knife lying nearby, the very instrument she had used to bring about her own demise.

Lucian stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat, his mind unable to comprehend the surreal scene before him. Was this real life or a horrifying nightmare? Time seemed to stand still as his father held his mother's lifeless form, tenderly brushing aside strands of hair with a delicate touch. It was in that moment that Lucian realized he was witnessing a side of his father he had never seen before, a vulnerability that pierced his heart.

"You can bring her back," Lucian mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Get out," his father's voice trembled, filled with unrecognizable emotions.

"You can bring her back!" Lucian's scream echoed through the room, his plea desperate and agonizing.

"I said get out!" His father wailed, his voice filled with anguish. "Every one of you!"

Caden gently cradled her lifeless body in his arms, regret consuming him. He wished he had held her like this when she was alive. "Just leave me be," his voice trailed off, disappearing into a silent abyss of remorseful grief.
———

—Present Day—

Lucian woke with a start, gasping for air, and drenched in sweat. That same relentless nightmare had once again disrupted his sleep, leaving him longing for the days when he was heavily sedated and buried in the ground. At least in that deep slumber, his mind was at peace.

Beside him, a comforting warmth enveloped him, serving as a reminder that he had invited Visenya into his bed. In her sleep, she had unconsciously shifted closer to him, her soft body pressing against his as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He briefly considered moving her back to her side of the bed, not because he didn't want her near him. On the contrary, her touch, her scent, her mere existence had a calming effect on him. It was as if she possessed the power to instantly soothe his racing heart and banish all traces of the anguish brought on by that god-awful nightmare.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, silently watching her sleep. But he'd certainly never admit that he enjoyed looking at her in secret, with no one there to notice... not even her. His gaze fell upon her collar, realizing that it had been rather bothersome to look at as of late. However, the mere thought of removing it filled him with unease and apprehension.

There was a deeper significance behind that collar, one that went hand in hand with her freedom. And granting her that freedom was something he couldn't bring himself to do. Deep down, he feared that the moment he set her free, she would leave him without a second thought, just as his mother had done.

Perhaps, deep down, he believed that she didn't need him, and that's what truly unsettled him. After all, she had spent the past ten years reigning over her world with undaunted autonomy. And from what he had witnessed that very night, he understood that it was not her impeccable manners and compassionate heart alone that had propelled her to such heights.

She was a savage in her own right, ready to take on the world without a hint of timidity in her step, and though he'd never admit that he felt a sense of pride watching her rip those leeches to shreds, there were other feelings that awakened within him. Feelings of stress, panic, and maybe... just maybe... a strong desire to protect her.