Chapter 12: Behind The Villain
Gabriel leaned against his desk, staring at Lirian with eyes that were equal parts frustration and amusement.
Her disheveled hair clung to her face; her gown was streaked with dirt from the climb, and yet she glared at him like a feral cat ready to strike again.
He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.
"I'll give you this, Lirian. You've got guts. Not many would climb a sheer wall with a knife in their teeth just to... what was your plan, exactly? Stab me in my chambers?"
"I wasn't thinking about plans," Lirian snapped. "I was thinking about freedom."
"Hmm." He nodded, pretending to consider her words.
"Points for effort, but no points for execution. Also..."
He glanced at her wrists. "How exactly did you manage to break the chains? Those were solid iron. Reinforced."
Lirian hesitated.
She looked at her wrist, the faint marks where the chain had been.
Her lips pressed together in a thin line, then she muttered, "Butterflies."
Gabriel blinked, certain he hadn't heard her correctly. "What?"
"Butterflies," she repeated louder, as if daring him to mock her.
"Butterflies?" he repeated.
His golden eyes widened as he stared at her.
"You're telling me that butterflies—the little insects that flutter around flowers—ate through solid iron chains?"
"Yes," Lirian said, her chin lifted. "Golden butterflies."
For a moment, Gabriel simply stared at her.
Then, without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed her arm, and marched her to the door of his chambers.
"What are you doing?" Lirian demanded, struggling against his hand.
"I've officially heard enough madness for one night," he said, opening the door and shoving her out.
"Go. Sleep. Climb another wall if you must, but leave me out of it."
"Gabriel!" Lirian banged on the door as it slammed shut in her face.
"You can't just throw me out! Open this door!"
He leaned against the door from the inside, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Her fists thudded against the wood, accompanied by curses and insults.
"You're a coward!" she shouted. "You think locking me out will solve your problems? Open the door, Gabriel!"
He didn't move, letting her rage burn itself out.
After a few more minutes of banging and shouting, her voice faded.
He waited until her steps vanished down the hallway, then let out a long breath.
Sliding down to sit on the floor, Gabriel rested his head in his hands.
His temples throbbed, but he couldn't get her words out of his mind.
"Butterflies..."
His fingers tightened in his hair as pain started haunting his head, memories he had buried so deeply he thought they might never return.
He was a boy again, standing in the garden of the palace.
Rain fell in soft sheets, soaking the green grass and the marble statues around them.
"Gabriel, stop playing in the rain and come inside!" his mother, who was the queen at that time, called from the terrace.
She was standing with a shawl draped over her shoulders, her silver hair tied in a ponytail.
"Just five more minutes, Mother!" Gabriel had shouted back, laughing as he splashed through the puddles with Raphael... his closest cousin at that time.
Raphael was grinning, his hair plastered to his forehead.
"She'll make us come in soon anyway. Let's do something fun before we get scolded!"
Gabriel smirked. "Like what?"
Raphael's eyes lit up from his idea. "Let's practice fire magic in the basement. No one will see us there!"
Gabriel hesitated. "In the basement? Mother doesn't like us using fire magic unsupervised."
"Oh, come on! You're the prince! What's the worst that could happen?" Raphael nudged him. "Don't tell me you're scared."
Gabriel's pride tickled his stomach. "Fine. But only for a little while."
They ran inside, dripping wet, and snuck down to the basement.
The damp, dark room was filled with crates and barrels; the smell of old wood in the air almost made them vomit.
"Watch this," Raphael said, holding out his hand.
A small flame sparked to life in his palm, flickering like a candle.
Gabriel copied him. The warmth of the fire spread through his fingertips.
"That's easy," he said. "Let's try something bigger."
Neither of them noticed Princess Callista in the corner, crouched over a tiny squirrel.
The young girl, no older than eight, had wandered down to the basement to help the animal find its way back outside.
"Careful!" Raphael said, laughing. "Don't burn your hand off, cousin!"
"I won't!" Gabriel replied as his fire grew larger.
But the flames quickly spiraled out of control.
The dry crates caught fire first, then the walls, then the ceiling.
"Gabriel!" Callista's voice rang out, panicked and small.
They turned, their eyes going wide as they saw her for the first time.
"Callista?" Gabriel stammered, his fire fading out as his mana drained.
"Help me!" she cried, trying to shield the squirrel with her body.
But they couldn't.
Their magic was spent, and the flames raged higher.
"Run!" Raphael shouted, pulling Gabriel toward the door.
"But Callista—"
"She's fine! She'll get out!"
The two boys fled, coughing as the smoke filled their lungs.
The queen was the first to realise Callista was missing.
She rushed into the flames without hesitation, calling for her daughter.
But she never came back.
By the time the fire was extinguished, both the queen and Callista were gone.
And at that moment, beautiful and shining golden butterflies filled the clouds, creating a magical scene.
But they quickly turned to dust and fell down, as if the sky was crying.
Gabriel stared at the ruins of the basement covered in gold.
He was too numb from shock.
Gabriel barely registered the shouting and the mess around him.
When the king demanded answers, Raphael spoke first.
"It was Gabriel's idea. He wanted to practice fire magic."
Gabriel couldn't deny it. He could barely speak.
"It was my fault," he whispered in a shaking voice. The child was blaming himself.
Soon enough, the king's grief turned to rage.
Friedrich, who was once a strong and just ruler, lost himself to despair.
The crown passed to another, and Gabriel, stripped of his title, was sent away to the northern territories, where his name would be forgotten.
Gabriel dragged himself back to the present, breathing unevenly.
The past moments of that night had never left him, no matter how far he tried to run.
He clenched his fists, his jaw set.
"Butterflies..."
"Golden butterflies...".
For the first time in years, a chill ran down his spine.