wild roses
The silence after the sharp metallic hiss of the guillotine dropping was almost nonexistent; it was part of the people’s daily lives. The lives of the Roseans went back on track, just as scheduled by her Royal Highness, Regina Rosehearts, Reigning Queen of the Queendom of Roses. Riddle Rosehearts stood up from his throne on the vast balcony of the palace and turned towards the glass doors to continue his studies on Statescraft. Keeping track of things was a Roseheart's core, especially for those destined to be the family’s heir, such as Riddle after his mother, and his mother’s father before her. After all, rules exist to preserve peace, and routine creates discipline. The rulers themself must enforce this lifestyle on themselves.
“Rules exist to preserve peace,” is the kingdom’s motto. And all of its monarchs must hold onto this slogan.
Riddle began to work on his papers as soon as the door to his office closed with one soft click. His office was smaller than his mother’s but had much higher stacks of papers on his worktable. Work never ends. The way to discipline is to push yourself until your fingers bleed. His mother’s voice rang in his mind. The only reminder of time was the ringing of the bells of the tower every hour.
When the bells struck six, Riddle stood up and began his walk to the dining room.
As he walked through the hallway, he saw a servant being dragged by his mother’s Trump Card Soldiers. With one glance, he concluded that the servant was wearing the wrong shade of red uniform. A bright Crimson for Mondays, Burgundy for special occasions, Maroon for Tuesdays, etc. It was a Thursday, which means the servants shall wear a carmine shade. But the maid had chosen to wear her maroon uniform instead. The other maids in the hallways had pale expressions, though they kept doing their jobs and responsibilities as they watched a colleague who was being dragged away, screaming for mercy from their Crown Prince.
“Your royal highness! Please have mercy on this poor, miserable woman– I couldn’t differentiate the colors because of my deteriorating eyesight! Please have mercy!”
The guards halted their actions as the Crown Prince walked towards them. They pushed the woman to kneel, as per protocol. Riddle looked at the old lady, up and down. It was a pitiful sight. And a heavy burden on his shoulders that he has to make a verdict. He could feel himself sweating, but hid it under a composed guise. A ruler who bends rules invites collapse. His eyes roamed to anything but the woman in front of him. “Take her away,” he orders, the old lady’s soul shattered in her eyes right before him. And the guards dragged the lady away from his view. Riddle turned his head; it was nothing new. Rulebreakers are brought under the guillotine after all. It was their fault for daring to go against the law of Riddle’s predecessors. The rules are there for a reason. And the consequence of going against the grain is a quick slice– Almost a bitter mercy.
The servants moved in synchronized silence. The only sound that could be heard echoing through the palace was the Queen’s ice-cold laughter from the dining room. If Riddle weren’t her son, he would be unnerved. Well, he is a bit unnerved, but a ruler should have composure. And so he took a deep breath and reached for the cold iron knob to twist it. And the door opened with a soft creak. The dining room was a contrast to the rest of the palace rooms. It was bright, with most of the members of the court sitting down on the long table. Riddle began his descent to his seat next to the head of the table, his mother, her highness.
Riddle’s eyes lingered upon his mother for a moment as he took his seat. He feels the pressure of her gaze, akin to a wildfire that suffocates you with its intensity, and a thick wall of smoke. But that is how a ruler should be, a presence that can not be undermined. Regina Roshearts is a woman of few words, but endless power at the tip of her fingers, like her predecessors. After all, how would the Rosehearts family have been able to keep the kingdom’s people under lock and key if they had been soft? A spineless crown invites demise to a kingdom, to their legacy.
The queen raised her hand in a quick motion, the servants and nobles around the table freezing up, as if waiting for a silent demand. Her retainer poured her a glass of blood-red wine, and she sipped from her glass. Riddle felt a chill down his spine, but forced himself to keep his composure, though he could feel shards of glass cracking under his own skin. He turned his gaze to the court members whose eyes were flickering towards the door. Waiting for something— or might be someone’s arrival.
The door swung open, revealing a tall man with lighter skin in a cheerful yellow jester suit. A contrast to the tense and dreary atmosphere of the room, like a lightning strike on a stormy day. The jester did backflips as he approached the head of the table with a mischievous grin; his arrival met with a mix of apprehension and curiosity from the onlookers. His easy-going nature almost dissipated all of the tension in the room as he bowed exaggeratedly to the head of the table, the bells sewn on his suit ringing comically.
Yuuken Enma is a man who has learned the art of surviving in a suffocating kingdom. Using his natural charm to turn his displeasure into jokes, even the most fuddy-duddy nobility will laugh at him. His eyes were sharp, observant. Being able to discern the restless gaze of the servants, the trembling of a guard's hand as he stood guard by the door, the way the court’s faces were carefully crafted to be neutral, and the way Regina’s mere breath is enough to make people shiver as it commanded perfection, even her own son.
“Your majesty,” Yuuken greeted with an exaggerated bow, his voice dripping with theatrical admiration. “I do hope that I haven’t been letting you wait for too long. After all, time is the one thing we can not waste, isn't it?”
Regina’s lips curled ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth betraying no emotions, but the slightest glimmer of amusement. “Indeed, Yuuken,” she agreed, her voice still as cold as the marble floors of her palace. “We cannot let the luxury of time escape our grasp.”
Riddle could feel the tension in the air, and the joke, as mild as it was, hung in the space between them like a brittle thread. Yuuken was one of the very few people who would dare talk to the queen with such a casual demeanor, and his humor was always cloaked in the safety of something that could only be explained as an innocent jest. If anything, it only entertained her majesty more.
Yuuken straightened his posture, and his gaze roamed around the room before it landed on Riddle. With a wink, Yuuken greeted him with the same theatricality as he did with Regina.
“Ah– Prince Riddle! The future of our esteemed Queendom. You know, I’ve always wondered what it’s like to have the weight of the future of the kingdom upon your shoulders.” Yuuken tapped his temple, as if he were pondering the question. “It must be like pushing a boulder on top of a great mountain. Say, can you even lift your arms anymore? Or do they hang like this?”
Yuuken raised his arms dramatically and let them fall limply, acting like a scarecrow, which earned a few stifled chuckles from the courtiers. Riddle’s lips twitched, but he forced himself to maintain a composed demeanor, clearing his throat. He could feel his mother’s gaze on him, a warning not to exhibit any weakness.
“Indeed,” Riddle answered dryly, “One grows used to carrying the weight.”
Yuuken smiled, but it wasn’t out of sympathy; it was almost– too knowing, “Ah, I see! ‘Grows used’—like a bird in a cage whose wings are clipped, blissfully unaware it’s just flapping around inside. It thinks it's soaring, but really, it's just practicing for the role of 'world’s most dedicated fluttering champion!'”
The room went still, and even Regina paused on sipping her wine as her gaze landed on Yuuken; the tiniest furrow appeared between her brows.
Yuuken’s smile deepened as he quickly shifted the topic, “But of course! A bird that lives within a cage knows its place, and the cage is a perfect fit for it. Much better than the wild, dangerous outdoors, where its life is always in jeopardy. Don’t you think?”
Regina’s laughter rang through the room, amused and melodic, “Indeed, Yuuken. Your wit is as sharp as ever.”
Riddle could feel something building in his stomach. He had just been mocked, but his mother took it for a jest. But it is something he’d grown used to. Regina’s approval is the only thing important to the kingdom. It is the right of passage. It is what mattered– her power, right to govern, belief in the laws upheld centuries before her, and the way they kept everything together.
“Let us eat,” Regina dismissed the moment with a flick of her wrist. Riddle turned his gaze to Yuuken and felt a sense of unease. He had seen it, even under the jesting guise. The sharpness of his eyes as he observed the servants, the courtiers, and the queen. Riddle couldn’t help but feel like there was something more underneath.
Yuuken Enma, the replacement for a sinner, was hiding something. And Riddle wasn’t just anyone who would let him get away with it.
