What is mine, I take for it is mine,
What is yours, I take it as mine.
Your choice does not matter.
For I crave what is not mine,
And I will do anything to possess it.
Even your heart.
~Cian~
In the kingdom of Invidia, Cian, Lord of envy sat upon his throne of obsidian, his silver hair glowing in the shadows of his chamber. His eyes were like emerald fire, reflecting the deep void in his heart - a void that would never be filled, no matter how much he possessed or destroyed. A flicker of surprise danced across Cian's emerald eyes when he remembered Lir's departure.
Despite the satisfaction of having riled up his brother. Lir's abrupt departure had been a lingering sting, unexpected in its duration. Nevertheless, Cian shrugged off the discomfort, his focus shifting to the throbbing void within him, a cavernous ache only filled by the glint of others' possessions.
'So empty I feel,' He thought with a sigh
Moving forward to pick up more berries into his mouth, he called out, "Silas."
Materializing like a wisp of smoke, Silas, Cian's faithful servant, bowed before him. The shadows seemed to peel away from his lithe form, revealing the elf-like man whose presence was as quiet as the night air. 'Your majesty,' he intoned with a deferential nod, his voice like the rustle of autumn leaves."
"Prepare the car, we're going out."
"Where are we going, Cian?" Silas asked, as they entered the black limousine.
"To the marketplace, my dear Silas. I'm in need of a distraction," Cian replied, his voice dripping with ennui.
Cian sits in the back seat, the limo's tinted windows obscuring his brooding expression from the world outside. As the car speeds towards the city center, Cian's mind races with possibilities, wondering what treasures the bustling streets might hold.
As the limo approaches the marketplace, Cian's eyes flick from side to side, surveying the streets for anything that might catch his eye.
Cian's gaze, like a hawk spotting its prey, sharpens as he sets his eyes upon the diminutive little one in the distance. His expression, usually charming but predatory, shifts into a mask of intrigue and calculation. With a voice as cold as the depths of winter, he commands, "Silas, halt the car. Now."
As the vehicle comes to a halt, Cian steps out, his silver hair like a shimmering river. With the grace of a viper, he slithers his way towards the little one, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. "Hello there, little one." Cian lowers himself to meet her gaze, his silver hair glinting in the light as his piercing, wintery eyes bore into her with a magnetic intensity. His voice, smooth and rich as velvet, caresses the syllables of his question, "And what's your name, little one?"
Ivy, captivated by Cian's mesmerizing presence, tilts her head, her wide eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Ivy," she replies.
Cian's lips curl into a bewitching smile. "Ivy...where are your parents?"
"Mister, you're really handsome," Ivy says, her eyes wide with admiration.
Cian, taken aback by her innocent charm, softens slightly, a rare smile playing on his lips. "Why, thank you, my dear. What a lovely thing to say." His tone is still smooth, but there's a hint of warmth in his voice that's unusual for the Lord of Envy.
With Ivy's compliment hanging in the air, Cian leans in a bit closer, as if to better hear her response about her parents. His gaze, though seemingly warm and caring, is like a predator sizing up its prey.
Cian's face inches closer to Ivy, and she blurts out, "My heart is fluttering." A chuckle escapes Cian's lips, "Are you flirting with me, child? You're a bit young for that, don't you think?" He flicks her head lightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Now, where are your parents?"
Ivy explains, her words simple and childlike, "I ran away to find a place that's nicer and has more good stuff. I'm tired of being hungry all the time," She continues, "I teleported here by mistake. My kingdom is very far. But..."
A spark of an idea ignites in Ivy's eyes as she looks past Cian at his limousine. "Is that your car?" she asks excitedly.
Cian's smile widens, "Why, yes. It is."
"Can you take me with you?" Ivy pleads, her eyes shining with hope. "I can wash plates. I promise!"
Cian laughs at her enthusiasm, "Can you even reach the sink, little one?"
Ivy's face breaks into a smile, "You'll take me?" She beams at Cian, relieved that he's agreed to her request.
Cian raises an eyebrow, "When did I say that I would take you?" But he can't help but be amused by her persistence.
Before he can respond further, Ivy jumps up and plants a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Mister!" She giggles, her childish innocence infectious.
As Cian watches her skip towards his limousine, he can't help but chuckle. "I haven't agreed to anything," he mutters under his breath.
But Ivy, unaware of Cian's reservations, has already reached the limousine and is fiddling with the handle, her face scrunched in concentration. Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing the luxurious interior of the car.
Cian watches in stunned silence as Ivy opens the limousine's door with a flick of her wrist. He realizes that she must be a witch, one with impressive powers for such a young age.
"How can you use your magic at age three?" he asks, intrigued.
Ivy, still blissfully unaware of Cian's astute observation, simply grins at him and pats the seat next to her, waiting for him to join her.
Settled in the backseat of the limousine, Silas opens his mouth to speak, but Cian, with a swift, cutting gesture, silences him. "She's coming with us," he declares, his tone brooking no argument.
Turning to Ivy, who sits innocently swinging her legs and sucking on her milk bottle, he asks, "Weren't you taught not to follow strangers?"
Ivy stops sucking on her milk bottle, her big, innocent eyes meeting Cian's intense gaze. "I don't follow strangers," she says matter-of-factly, "but you're not a stranger. You're handsome." She tilts her head, her cherubic face breaking into a wide grin. "Handsome people deserve special treatment!"
Cian chuckles, unable to resist the charm of this young girl. He reaches out to pinch her cheek playfully, but Ivy, with surprising poise, bats his hand away.
"Hey! Don't touch me!" Ivy protests, her childish voice brimming with indignation. "Men and women aren't supposed to touch, you know. It's not appropriate."
Cian's laughter grows louder as he withdraws his hand. "Is that so? And where did you learn that?"
"My aunt told me," Ivy replies solemnly. "She said if you touch me again, I won't be able to get married when I grow up."
"Who is this aunt that taught this bizarre wisdom to a child?" Cian wondered, his amusement giving way to intrigue as he considered the child before him.