Salvation of The Scum Fifth Prince

[50 - request; to trust you]

"Let's get started, alright?"

Soren sat on the bed, shoulders slumped lazily as his eyes glazed in thought. Raphael's words hung in the air, unanswered.

The others had already left, unable to postpone it any longer, though Deimos had flashed a concerned look at Soren and almost stayed — if not for Atlas reminding him of his tasks.

At present, Soren seemed to be stuck in a dream-like state, where words rolled over him like gentle, lapping waves. He could not hear them.

It was strange.

The prince could not understand why he had such a reaction to the news — the possibility of truth. The dragging knowledge that mixed with excitement and fear, knowing that everything may come to light.

Damien's message had been clear, somebody who knew the truth would be in the Haze Kingdom, and most likely, Soren would encounter them.

But why was it that a part of him didn't want to know the truth?

It was a sinking feeling, tugging at him stomach and wrapping around his throat. Soren felt as if he may cry, but he had no tears to shed. And cry for what?

He didn't know.

Nor did he understand.

In truth, the mood swings were not uncommon in Soren's previous life. There were frequent moments when he'd feel his body become heavy as steel, painful and unmoving. When his emotions spiralled -- but what emotions, he did not know.

As if he were a broken machine malfunctioning, destined to remain that way. Until he was replaced, that is.

It came suddenly, unexpectedly.

Soren was certain about everything. In what he wanted, in the descisions he chose. He would act as he pleased, and move as he wanted. That was a fact.

Hesitation was foreign, but ever so present.

His head hurt.

There was a soft sigh, though it didn't carry any traces of tiredness or impatience. A set of footsteps sounded, moving closer to the sitting prince. Then it stopped.

"What's the matter, little prince?"

Soren didn't answer.

"All of a sudden, you've become like this. What a troublesome fellow you are." Yet, his tone was soothing and calm, like the twinkling night sky. "You promised me, Ren. That this plan would lead to success. And for that to happen, I need you present. Here, with me."

Soren still didn't answer.

"Tell me, what happened? It was after the letter -- did you not wish to learn of the truth, or find whatever it was you were looking for?"

At some point, Raphael had knelt in front of Soren, a knee resting on the ground while his dark gaze peered up at the lowered blue eyes, patiently. Not too close, but not too far.

"Raphael," said Soren suddenly, slowly. "What if a truth you wanted to learn was a tragedy?"

Perhaps, in his memories, the very reason they disappeared made him fear remembering again.

Raphael blinked in surprise, and breathed steadily. "I'd learn about it anyway. Is there any benefit in being oblivious to the truth?"

"No."

"And there you have it, little prince. Don't you know the answer yourself?"

"Raphael."

"Yes?"