Bride To His Darkness
Chapter 250: Melody Of The Withered Rose

Chapter 250: Melody Of The Withered Rose

Back in the Chevalier Palace, Duncan traversed through the highest quarters with an ethereal grace, his crimson eyes scanning the opulent surroundings as he strolled by. His tranquil presence casted a shadow that danced along the tapestries adorning the wall, and the place was brightly lit by sconces, whilst making his presence more alluring to those who managed to steal a peek at him when it wasn’t night time.

The servants he ran into immediately lowered their heads in fear, keeping a good distance from him as they politely bowed, but their actions were nothing new to him. They can shamelessly go the whole day fucking him in their dreams, but in front of him, they cower at the mere sight of his presence, some even felt pity for him, and that only made him detest being in the presence of crowds– or anyone for that matter, but today, he chose to ignore everything.

He was on his way to visit the upper garden where the herbs Ivan usually brought for him were planted, and in Ivan’s absence, he wanted to get them himself. He could have easily sent a servant to gather them for him, but as someone who possessed a secretive interest in herbs and plants, he decided to go by himself– not to mention but, it was tiring staying indoors 24/7 hrs of the day.

As he wandered deeper into the heart of the Palace, Duncan’s footsteps, though nearly soundless, echoed with each stride on the marble floor. He passed Chambers of nobles, ornate and empty. His gaze was seemingly focused on the direction he was heading to, but when he passed a particular ornate door, he subconsciously stopped in his gait.

"Hmm?"

Turning his head to gaze at what had unprecedentedly drawn his attention, before him stood the door to the room that had remained sealed, since the day the Queen’s life– Ivan’s Mother, had come to a tragic end. Rumors whispered through the decades claimed that she had committed suicide after her husband, the late King, had met his untimely demise. For a moment, Duncan gazed at it, his fingers hovering over the gilded doorknob, and as silly as it may sound, he picked up a faint, peculiar energy coming from inside the chamber.

This Chamber had been locked since the moment she died, he knew this much because he was here when the court declared her actions as abominable, and due to that, she never got buried with her death rites performed. That was the same day Ivan lost his temper, and that was the same day he admired him too.

When he touched the doorknob, waves of memories shared within this very spot invaded his head, and none of those memories bore happy moments, whilst he took his hands away, returning his mind to the present. He had heard stories– the stories of despair that clung to this room, like ivy to a stone wall. From what he had seen, he now understood why Ivan refused to move up here after being crowned King. With all the terrible memories tied to these quarters, it wouldn’t be healthy for him to stay here.

"Should I?" He thought out loud.

Thinking twice about what he wanted to do, Duncan looked around to make sure there was no one at sight. When that had been confirmed, he quietly pushed the door open, and as it creaked, he stepped inside. A heavy, musky scent filled the air, as if the memories of the past were locked in every corner. The room was frozen in time, as if the Queen’s spirit had preserved it just as she had left it, and he stopped walking when he stood at the center of the room.

Unlike humans whom he needed to seek permission first before tapping into their past memories, that wasn’t the same with objects they may have held or touched by chance. Most of the items that were sealed in here still possessed the Queen’s touch, this was her chamber after all, and due to that, her past memories were easy for him to tap into. As expected, the room seemed to come alive with memories, the air thick with the whispers of a lost love, and a despair too deep for bear.

When she fell sick, her lovely Interaction with the late Queen Mother, Carina’s rude barging, and most of all, the times Ivan had visited his Mother, all the memories associated with what she had touched flooded his head, and then, he saw the plight of her, hanging on the ceiling, with Ivan frozen to his spot at the entrance.

Like a breeze sweeping away the dust of memories from his vision, it all disappeared. Ivan was as lonely as him during their childhood, they had no one to talk to back then, maybe that was why they bonded easily, to feel that void even though they hardly saw everyday, because for Duncan, he was never one to associate with people– he was still the same isolated vampire, one could say it grew worse after his illness, but Ivan... Ivan has changed– positively.

"I wish I was as strong as you. Maybe then I would have been able to fight this pain." He murmured, his voice laden with his internal suffering whereas he wore a faint smile on his lips.

Wiping away his sad life from his mind, his crimson eyes darted about, taking in the sumptuous furnishing and the fading elegance that clung to the chamber. However, he came here to inspect where that faint energy was coming from, not to disrespect someone’s memories, and eventually, his attention was drawn to the ornate vanity that stood beside the grand window. It was adorned with silver and ebony, and upon it, he saw a single withered rose, its petals crumbling.

Knowing how his mind plays tricks between the present and past, he had to look carefully to confirm it wasn’t just his hallucination. As he approached, a soft, haunting melody, almost too faint to be real, touched his ears. It was a gentle hum, a melancholic lullaby that seemed to resonate from the rose itself. He couldn’t help but reach out and touch it, and like everything else, the rose had sad memories to share....

It’s been so long, even before GreenHollow returned to the way it was but strangely, the rose hadn’t withered completely. Taking hold of the withered rose, a shiver coursed through his spine.

Raising his head slowly, he found himself standing before the grand mirror, a mirror that had witnessed the Queen’s heartache and silent cries. As he gazed into the surface, still holding on to the withered rose, he saw her reflection.

It was a spectral image of a forlorn dark-haired woman who had been trapped in a world of tragedy. Duncan’s eyes immediately snapped wide upon realizing he wasn’t alone. In her eyes, he saw a plea for something long denied, and in her hand, she was holding the...crystal.

"The crystal?"

"What are you doing here?" The sudden voice behind him made Duncan spun around to see a confused Alistair gazing at him.