Little thing I wrote from Hyacinth’s perspective to get a read in his inner dialogue and personality and such.
Content warnings: grief and mourning. Talk of death and murder. Poisoning. And Hyacinth generally being miserable.
Someone was trying to kill him, Hyacinth was sure of it.
His parents called him paranoid when he brought the topic up on one rare occasion where he joined them for evening tea. The large balcony covered in flowering wisteria vines and jasmine was a beautiful backdrop to the young prince explaining his fears to the king and queen.
The longing cry of an owl in the distance accompanied his mother’s quiet snort and father’s deep frown.
“Son, nobody wants to kill you. And if they did, you are protected at all times. You live in a castle for the Sun’s sake.”
He never brought the topic up again after that dismissal. But the feeling in his gut never left.
Sometimes he would eat his food and something strange would run across his taste buds. He didn’t eat a lot after that happened too many times. Occasionally the goblets of water delivered to his room tasted sickeningly sweet, he would dump the contents over his balcony ledge and accept the headache that taunted him.
Once the man had to dodge a falling stone while walking wistfully through the expansive gardens at the center of the palace. When he told the nearest few guards they had all told him they hadn’t seen such a thing. When he showed them the large rock now embedded in the ground they told him it had always been there.
He thought about leaving often. Running away from all he had ever known and trying to find somewhere where no one knew his face. It would be hard to find such a place though, everyone knew the face of his long dead sister. After her death their parents had sent out paintings and lifelike ink drawings to every temple and shrine in a mass mourning. And unfortunately for him in this situation, Hyacinth and his dead twin had almost the same face.
Running was useless, and he was too scared to try even if he wouldn’t be recognized. He had only left the grounds once in his life, and the shrine to Heather in the castle's temple told him everything he needed to know about what happened when one left the stone walls.
He would die out there, just as she had. Or, he assumed she had. Things weren’t quite that simple.
But surely if his twin was alive she would let him know that fact? Right? She wouldn’t just leave him here to rot while she got to experience the freedom they had been chasing that dark night in the forest?
She was dead, every other explanation hurt too much to consider. And since she was dead, it was his fault. He had gotten her killed after all.
Hyacinth had stared into the bright eyes of the beast that had attacked his dear sister, he had a sword in his trembling hands, and instead of charging forward bravely, or even just throwing the sword at the massive wolf, he had cowered like a coward.
And Heather had died the next day, she couldn’t stay after what had happened. And she had left and never returned. Dead somewhere in the wilderness and Hyacinth was to blame.
He had accepted the guilt a long long time ago, and he had no plans of letting go of it. Without the regret tearing at his insides he wasn’t sure who he would be anymore.
Sometimes, on his worst days, he wondered if the rumors were right, maybe he had killed her on purpose, eager to take her future throne. It had been ten years since her death, he might've forgotten his true intentions. Maybe his intentions didn’t matter at all, the result was the same. She was gone, and she wasn’t going to save him this time.
Which for many reasons was incredibly unfortunate, the most prominent at the moment being the fact that someone was trying to kill him, and the girl who had always been his protector, wasn’t there.
Hyacinth stared down at his too-sweet smelling wine and chucked darkly. The whole situation felt a bit ironic.
He dipped a pale finger into the poisoned liquid and watched the ripples hit the edge of the golden goblet. It looked a bit like blood, he wondered if he preferred this slow death by poison and self starvation over a knife to the gut. Bleeding out seemed more poetic to him, and for that reason alone he would’ve chosen it over this quiet rotting away. But he understood why his murderer had chosen this method, it was much less obvious. They must know the castle well to know that no one would believe him if he claimed his life was in danger. Whether it was true disbelief or just retribution for his sister’s death Hyacinth could never tell, but most of the castle staff seemed completely uninterested in his suspicions.
Heather had always been the more likable one after all.
For a moment the prince considered drinking the cup dry and choosing to confront his fate sooner, but he as always, eventually decided against it. He didn’t want to die, not truly. He just didn’t want to live here anymore.
He stood from his music sheet strewn desk and carried the goblet with him out to his second balcony, his favorite one. He liked it for a simple reason, it faced outwards. If he tried hard enough he could pretend he was somewhere else. Somewhere far from his fate in life; a weight of gold being set upon his head and the responsibility of a kingdom thrust into his shaking hands, or being the victim of a political murder. Whichever came first.
He poured the liquid off of the balcony and looked down at the grass far below. Or, there had been grass there once. Now it was just a patch of brown.
Hyacinth wondered when his murderer would get tired of waiting. It would be a lovely evening to die. The sun was in the hills and the songbirds were singing out their last choruses before they slept. With the scent of sickly sweet poison still in his nose Hyacinth decided to sit on his carved marble bench and watch the sunset.
It felt a bit sad to have a bench that could sit two and have no one to share it with. He would probably have someone to watch the sky with if he didn't keep turning away all eligiable suitors. And he didn't want to be alone forever, but he knew none of the lords and ladies who came to court hoping to woo him actually wanted to get to know him. They wanted his power, he could see it in their eyes, always flicking to the tiara on his head that siginfed him as first in line.
Sometimes he considered taking a chance, even if they just wanted his power, they would still be someone to talk to. The only people in the castle who bothered to listen to anything he had to say where his cousins Azalea and Ander, and they had little appreciation for songs or poetry, so there wasn't much to talk to them about.
But he wasn't completely alone, not long after he sat down to watch the clouds turn a blazing orange and pink a quiet squeaking inturupted his brooding. The scratching of small claws came nearer and Hyacinth mindlessly bent down to lay a hand on the ground so he could pick up the little grey rat and bring her up to his shoulder. Zinnia rubbed her soft forehead against his neck and settled down.
At least he had her, he hoped she would be able to move on quickly and live a good life once he was dead. She wasn't a normal rat, she would likely find some mage in need of a familiar and finally be able to help someone worthwhile. But for now she refused to leave his side and he was glad of it, he needed her.
The sun quickly gave away to the bright moon and Hyacinth felt the ever encompassing melancholy and guilt start to choke him. He'd forgotten it was a full moon that night. He went inside and closed his gauzy curtains to block out the haunting light, moving to take a seat at the golden harp in one of the large room's corners. He doubted he would sleep much that night, so instead he would work on his newest song. A slow and lonely dirge if he'd ever heard one but dear to his heart all the same, and that was all that mattered truly, as no other soul would ever hear it.
On moonlit road you ran and fled,
From soft dungeon and cruel words said.
To forest dark and dank you go,
Away from love and hate you grow.
And here I sit awaiting news,
Of death or hope or bright new views.
The days they are all dark and dim,
For I was too afraid of him.
I failed you dear but still I wait,
Hoping you come through that gate.
You gave your crown and left with sword,
I pray that you will hear my word.
For danger dwells within these halls.
And oh the voice of sleep she calls.
But I have no want to sleep,
No dreams of falling down so deep.
So lost one if you hear my plea,
Protector please come set me free!
When his fingers finally stilled on the taught strings and his voice quieted, Hyacinth laughed shakily to himself. The song held much more hope than he usually let himself hold onto, but he couldn't bear to throw it out. It made something fragile hum deep in his chest and he wasn't ready to let that last bit of light go. Not just yet.