Emperor Sigmund pauses, his excitement fluttering like a loose leaf in the wind, unsure and on the precipice of tumbling into confusion.
"Aspen...?"
Aspen's jaw clenches tightly, and he struggles to maintain his composure as he feels a familiar anger bubbling up to the surface inside him.
"I said, I don't want it." he manages to bite out the words. He chews on his tongue after that, willing himself not to lose his temper.
Revulsion stirs in the very pit of his stomach, amplified by the emperor's shamelessly incredulous frown, like he doesn't understand why Aspen would reject his offer.
Has he no shame? Does he really think that a gift as undesirable as a random marriage proposal - one that wasn't even his to give to begin with - will sway the hatred that a son harbours for a father?
What the hell does he think I am? A f*cking pushover?
If flowery words and grand gestures of repentance were enough to cover up all the horrid things the emperor has done to keep him by his side, he would be disgracing not only himself but the memory of his dead family.
Emperor Sigmund retracts his hand when it becomes evident that Aspen wants nothing to do with the letter he's brandishing. However, far from giving up, his furrowed eyebrows give way to reveal a hardened, determined look.
For once, the emperor doesn't cave immediately in the face of Aspen's refusal. Instead, he tries to persuade him to change his mind.
"Son, think carefully about your decision. This is a wonderful opportunity for you to solidify your position. Why don't you give it a chance? It would be rude to reject the duchess' invitation for an introduction, considering their standing in the country. Perhaps you can find it in yourself to simply have a conversation with their son-"
"I don't want to." Aspen repeats stubbornly, the sharp glint in his golden eyes making the emperor flinch noticeably. "I don't need a mate to become the crown prince."
Emperor Sigmund's shoulders seem to deflate as he slouches in his chair, evidently discouraged by the resolute tone in Aspen's words.
"Your Highness, His Majesty is simply worried about your well-being. Would it not be wise to follow his advice and entertain the duchess for the time being? You would have nothing to lose from an introduction with their son."
Duke Sieren's voice cuts through the thick tension between them, thankfully, before Aspen's patience is blown through the roof into the abyss.
But even so, he isn't about to let anyone walk all over his decision to remain out of the marriage market. No duke or duchess in the country will sway his opinion on the matter. It is but a futile effort, and anyone's proposal will be met with disappointment if it isn't from the one he desires.
Aspen's gaze flicks upwards, and he narrows his eyes at Duke Sieren.
"Why should I? The Arwans have been living in reclusion for nearly as long as I have been alive. What is their purpose for extending an engagement proposal to me?" he sneers, the pretense of being polite vanishing in an instant.
Emperor Sigmund hurries to answer him, a tiny bit of hope seeping into his voice as he speaks.
"The Arwans went into reclusion after the death of Duke Arwan. Duchess Arwan has spent the last two decades taking over the position of family head, and she has finally secured enough power over House Arwan's vassals to step back out into the limelight of high society. I believe she wrote about her intentions in the letter she sent, but it would take too much time for me to read it all out to you."
With that, the emperor extends his hand once more, gesturing for Aspen to take the letter held between his fingers.
Aspen glares down at the offending item, slowly but gradually descending into a familiar madness that hasn't had to emerge for a long time.
With a barely-contained growl, he snatches the letter out of the emperor's hand, ripping it apart to get to the contents of it. He unfolds the single piece of paper in the envelope, scanning the words written on it with quick, darting eyes as he crumples the flimsy material with the grip of his fingers.
All he registers from the long-winded paragraphs is that the duchess' omega son has been unable to find a compatible suitor for years, and that she wishes to introduce him to an alpha from the royal family with the hope that they are finally the one.
But therein the problem lies.
Only the last few lines in the entire letter indicate which alpha, out of the currently single and unattached royal children, House Arwan intends to match with their son.
While Aspen is no stranger to being hounded by proposals from noble families who want to improve their standing, those few lines at the very end carry a strange weight to them:
With regards to whom House Arwan's proposal is intended for, it would please me greatly if Your Majesty could afford my son, Aruna, an opportunity to have an audience with His Esteemed Highness, First Prince Aspen Myllena. Rest assured, it was my son's suggestion to extend this marriage proposal to His Highness in the first place. I do not claim to understand his reasons for choosing His Highness, but in light of the difficulty he has had in finding a suitable mate, I implore you, Your Majesty, to grant this one wish of his. Should His Highness accept House Arwan's request for a formal introduction, I shall see to it personally that His Highness' benevolence is not misplaced.
Sincerely, Duchess Celetalle Arwan.
It is beyond unexpected.
Not only does the duchess claim not to harbour any ulterior motives, it would seem that it is not House Arwan, but one of its heirs, that got the idea to extend this marriage proposal to him.
Aspen's informants planted all over the country have always brought him and his party news of nobility's scandals, important decisions and public and underground movements.
House Arwan, of course, was no exception, and have never been spared from the watchful eyes of Aspen's allies and men. However, nothing much has been reported about them due to their reclusiveness so far.
He would never have anticipated the duchess' first move as she prepares to bring House Arwan out of the shadows to be a marriage proposal to him, least of all the decision being made at her second son's behest.
Above all, he finds it hard to believe the duchess' words.
Her sentiment about her son being unable to find a mate is an emotional plea at best. Whether or not she speaks the truth is another thing altogether.
Aspen click his tongue in annoyance, feeling his frustration at the situation climb higher.
He is no closer to the truth than the emperor is. Reading this letter only tells him so much.
Then so be it.
Aspen tosses the letter onto the table, his scowl growing bigger and wider as he addresses the emperor, this time with unbounded distaste.
"Such an obvious ploy this is. Do not tell me you believe this garbage?"
"G-Garbage?!" Duke Sieren repeats weakly, looking between the emperor and Aspen, aghast.
Emperor Sigmund's face falls once again, his hopes shattering onto the ground the moment Aspen finishes speaking.
"What displeases you so, my son? Do you truly intend to remain without a mate your whole life? You know as well as I that becoming my heir comes with certain expectations. Why do you insist on rejecting my gift?"
"Why?" Aspen scoffs, his hands finding their way into the pockets of his slacks.
"Do you take me for a fool? Surely, you didn't think I would jump for joy? We hardly have an amicable relationship, if you haven't already noticed. You know as well as I that I have no interest in whatever you gift me. I'm far better off without you poking your nose into my personal business, Your Majesty."
"Your Highness, that is no way to speak to His Majesty! His Majesty is merely a parent worrying about their child's health. An imperial child should know better than to be ungrateful!" Duke Sieren chastises, his face tight with tension and lined with what seems to be disappointment.
But it only serves to fuel Aspen's anger.
Ungrateful? Me? Towards him?
What an absolute joke.
"Ungrateful? I hope you're not referring to me, Your Grace."
There is a dangerous edge to Aspen's voice, one that is cold and sharp and ready to hurt. And this isn't the first time he's used it in the presence of the emperor and his aide.
Duke Sieren must feel it, for there is a slight tremble in his hands as he folds them behind his back. However, he remains steadfast in his scoldings, standing straight even in the face of potential danger.
"I am, Your Highness. There was no reason for you to speak so insolently to His Majesty. Not even the empress has the right to do so. I had thought that you learnt from your lessons years ago, but it appears to me that you have forgotten them momentarily."
Oh this is getting even better.
"Empress? Lessons? Momentarily?"
Aspen can feel his emotions struggling to escape the well-crafted box he's kept them in for so long.
There is liquid fire circulating his body in this very moment, growing hotter and hotter with each nonsensical sentence the pair before him sees fit to blabber out.
His scent, usually carefully controlled with expert precision, begins to leak out in small waves, although it is not noticeable just yet to either of the other alphas opposite him.
"Ha!" Aspen lets out a small, incredulous laugh.
To have the cheek to bring up the past at a time like this is both a stupid and ironic move on the duke's part.
"You have some nerve." he growls, the deep, guttural sound echoing slightly in the area around them. It bounces off the walls surrounding the Magenta Garden, threatening to unearth a lifetime's worth of hate and malice.
Both Duke Sieren and Emperor Sigmund stiffen in their places, no doubt feeling the spine-chilling aura of an enraged alpha.
To Aspen, never has this wretched place felt more detestable. It is as though he's back in the past.
He can feel them - the stuffy, high-collared clothing the servants forced him to don before tugging him into the garden, the sensation of multiple hands pressing down on his back and dragging him to the ground as he screamed and struggled with all his might, and even the visceral, nearly tangible enmity opening up a chasm in his gut and clawing its way out.
Everything is coming back to him again, in a flurry of nauseating memories, scents and sensations.
The suffocating weight of being in this infernal place starts to close in on him from all sides, leaving him dizzy from the lack of air and in disbelief at the audacity he's being subjected to.
Vaguely, he hears a distantly hasty voice interrupting his gradual spiral, and he realises after much effort that it is the emperor.
"I think that is enough, Duke Sieren. I do not mind Aspen's behaviour. It is only right that he is upset with me. I have not been the greatest parent."
"But, Your Majesty-"
"Enough. Do not make me repeat myself."
The firmness and finality in Emperor Sigmund's tone must convince him, because Duke Sieren reluctantly backs out of the mess their conversation has turned out to be.
The emperor faces Aspen with a weak, brittle smile. He looks almost guilty, pleading for a chance he will never get.
Aspen doesn't return his smile. In fact, his face twists into a snarl as he bears his fangs at them.
"I will not be meeting with the duchess' son, and that is my final decision. You can tell them to shove their hermit asses back where they came from, and I won't be entertaining any other marriage proposals either. Not even if they're from another royal family."
Emperor Sigmund swallows visibly, clearly nervous about provoking his ire any further.
It is evident that the emperor is afraid of him, because unlike his helpless omega mother who could only be pushed around with minimal freedom to retaliate, Aspen was born with a gift - one that gave him exceptional senses, strength and sensitivity.
It is the reason he is able to sense the presence of others, and it is also the reason the emperor hesitates to anger him beyond his limit.
From the beginning, Aspen has known that the emperor is nothing but a coward. He preys on the weak but bows his head when confronted by the strong. And his fear is only amplified by Aspen's likeness to the late empress, a fact that no doubt disrupts his memory of her, whom he tormented in the name of love.
Perhaps he is afraid of what Aspen will do if pushed to his limits. After all, if the late empress was capable of faking her death just to get away from him, who knows what Aspen, the son she conceived and passed her spirit onto, can do.
Seemingly resigned, Emperor Sigmund sighs in defeat.
"Alright. I shall do as you wish and reject the marriage proposal on your behalf, including any other that might arrive in the future."
Aspen rearranges his face into an expression that is more composed, despite having the urge to just get one good punch in. His fist shakes as he resumes the position of a subordinate, with his hands clasped behind his back.
"If that is all, I will be taking my leave now." he says, his words still carrying just a smidgen of a growl.
He whips around, intending to exit the garden as quickly as possible, but then stops at the edge of the pavilion.
It feels utterly unsatisfying to leave without getting to release the wriggling ball of spun anger inside him. So he decides, right then and there, that now is as good a time to remind the emperor and Duke Sieren that he hasn't forgotten the past.
Aspen turns his head just enough to glimpse the looks that the emperor and his aide are sending him.
"This may be no more than conjecture on my part, but it seems that Your Majesty has decided the past matters no more in current times."
His shoes squeak against the marble floor as he turns back to the front and gazes at the stretch of nerines spread out before his eyes, dazzling but depressing.
"But remember this. I have not forgotten the past. Not for one moment. If you were under the impression that I have already absolved you of the sins you committed against me, Your Majesty, your naivety knows no bounds."
Aspen lets his hands hang by his sides, and tears his eyes away from the sorry sight in front of him. He turns his head back to the emperor, the bright gold of his single, visibly glaring eye glowing against a backdrop of fading, orange sunlight.
His voice dips, the warning on his tongue a thinly veiled threat.
"Do not mistake my courtesy for forgiveness."
With that, he climbs down the stairs to the path leading out of the garden, desperate to leave the phantom pain in his memories behind where they can no longer haunt him.