A Gorgeous White

The doors shut close, echoing throughout the hallways. There were a few people passing, seeing three men standing silently before the dark wood, looking as though swallowed by misery. The people passed, glancing hesitantly. Not a word was muttered to disturb these high figures. 

Moulin's expression is sorrowful as he leaned his forehead on the wood. Pitiful silver eyes peeked sullenly between his lashes, gazing on the carved surface as though he could see through the wooden door and decipher his father's thoughts. The weight in his heart tempted to bury him into the ground and he found himself weak against the unseen strength. A hand reached out and drew him away to lean against a strong chest. Maxille Fraunces sighed deeply, taking Moulin into his arms, stroking the youth's back. 

"Give him time." He said softly and glanced at his other younger brother, standing beside him with a distressed expression. 

Emlen looked away from them with thoughts unknown, trying to shift the atmosphere. Moulin was especially weak when it comes to their father or mother. And seeing him so distraught crushed him.

Moulin's eyes squeezed shut. When his father heard of the artifact he was thrilled, he smiled so brightly. His expression stung Moulin's heart bit by bit as he struggled to say the catch of his father's hope. Word after word, he spoke the direful risks and he watched as his father's eyes, gleaming and hopeful, wallowed in grief and disbelief. Misery was evident in his face. He's caught between losing his wife forever or bringing her back to their family. With a broken voice, he sent them away to think and Moulin had never seen him so desolate, processing the burnt of Moulin's words. 

"Give him time..." 

Emlen echoed his elder brother's words. hoping Moulin would feel a bit better. Slightly opening his eyes, Moulin released a stuttering breath and nodded. 'Calm down', he secretly says to himself. 

'Father is strong...'

...

Second Tower, Helios.

At noon, Moulin felt a little better. His brothers were a bit reluctant to let them go. However, Moulin knew they were needed elsewhere. Their responsibilities cannot be denied. Alone, Moulin appeared on one of the highest floors of Helios. Very few wandered these corridors and hallways for no one wanted to disrupt a certain Lord. Sentinels nodded at him as they passed, respectful and silent. 

In here, walking felt light. The silence and calm was intriguing. It wasn't his first time visiting but he couldn't get used to this kind of calm within the Towers. Many floors below, many were rushing and mingling. All emotions released and it was vibrant and lively. Up here, it felt as though the silence was meant to calm a slumbering beast. 

Soon enough, Moulin found himself before a double-door entrance. The area was isolated and especially calm. He passed though with ease, walked down the last hallway, and entered the final door. A fresh scent greeted him. It smelled like the ocean. 

Hadrian's Study. Moulin crossed the fine carpet as he gazed around. Hadrian wasn't here. Sullen, he lowered his head and ran his fingers on one of the shelves of a bookcase. The room was spacious and breathtaking, connected to multiple rooms. After a few minutes of looking around, Moulin settled on a chair beside a tall glass window. His eyes gazed down, ignoring the terrible height. 

From here, one could see the marvelous beauty of the city. But it wasn't its splendor that attracts survivors from all over Corahn. Although Moulin was not here to witness its birth, he knew this city had overcome countless battles to secure its people. Helios bears unrelenting strength as a whole. Its unity is what keeps it strong. 

Similar to one particular person. 

The corners of Moulin's lips lifted slightly. Shifting his attention, his gaze lands on something peculiar. A tiny white flower pot sitting on the wide desk. A glass barrier protected its tiny form and it didn't quite complement the strict organization of the desk. Moulin sensed a seed underneath its moistened soil. A faint thrum of mana flowed within it. Although it was odd, Moulin didn't thought too much about it and settled his gaze on the tiny wolf figurine on the bookcase. 

It aroused a memory in his mind and it brought a smile on his face. Opening his palm, the youth's fingers glowed faintly. Cold wind brushed his skin, circulating around him. Then it was gone and a little wolf ice sculpture sat on his hand. Silver eyes softened. He remembered creating one like this a long time ago. 

As usual, it looked... sloppy and childish. 

"Another one?"

Moulin jumped and turned his head.

Hadrian is leaning on the doorway, wearing an amused smirk. His eyes are glowing and soft, embracing Moulin with attention.  He had already removed his sword belt and the rest of his outer clothes, leaving them on the sofa in the far side of the room. The pale shirt stretched to accommodate his strong arms and the muscles of his torso. Why was he wearing such thin clothes? Moulin eagerly drank the sight of his body shamelessly. 

The smile on the man's face widened. He approached the youth and Moulin blinked, trying hard not to stare too much. 

"How long were you here?"

"I just came back," Hadrian replied, leaning down on Moulin's chair. Golden eyes gleamed as they settled on the small ice sculpture on Moulin's hands. Something about it warmed his heart. "It looks better..."

Moulin rolled his eyes, "I'll try harder, My Lord."

"Beloved, your skills are already impeccable."

"Shut it." Moulin hands glows and a the little wolf grows a pair of wings and a unicorn horn. Moulin rises and puts them on the desk. A naughty smile adorns his face."There, perfect."

...

Hadrian shakes his head and went to give a rewarding kiss on his lover's lips. "Great work..."

Moulin chuckles and silently watched as Hadrian turned to read a few documents on his desk. When the man settles, Moulin spoke. "I didn't see you this morning."

Hadrian paused, "Forgive me. I called the council early."

Moulin shook his head with a faint smile, "There is nothing to apologize for."

"..."

Moulin didn't expect Hadrian to rise from his seat and approach him. His arms were suddenly around him. "Hadrian-"

"You've talked to your father..."

"..." Moulin stared at him. The words came out in a stutter that was unlike him. "Yes... He didn't... The result... It... It was..." 

The High lord raises his hand and takes Moulin's cheek, stopping Moulin. He caressed the skin gently. It was in this soft moment that had Moulin breaking. In the next minute, Hadrian takes him into his arms and listens. Moulin spoke of his father, his worries, and the aching desperation inside him. There were no tears shed but Moulin felt like the dam in his heart was at the brink of breaking. Hadrian listened and it comforted Moulin. Word after word, it felt as though the weight in his heart gradually lifted. Walls came breaking and the flow of his emotions slowly calmed. Until relief bloomed in his chest, light as a feather. 

Then Moulin was silent. He exhales burrowing into Hadrian's embrace. A few snowflakes fluttered on the High Lord's desk. 

"Thank you..."

Hadrian calmly tucked the strands of stray hair behind Moulin's ear, "Come to me and release everything."

"Mn..." Moulin nodded, sighing in content. The silence afterwards was comforting. 

...

While hugging Moulin, Hadrian glanced at the snowflakes on his once clean desk and stretched out a hand to brush them of the wood. Aware of the sudden movements, Moulin chuckled. Smilingly, he raised his head and met Hadrian's eyes.

"Do you have more work to do?"

"I do, young master."

"Hm... Pray tell. What significant matter occupies your time, My Lord?"

Hadrian sighs, "The lords are unappeasable. Many of them wish to study the White Forest. They've been quite an annoyance lately."

"Oh, Why do you not agree?" Moulin's eyes widened. "If they could utilize the crystals for a great cause, that would be wonderful."

Hadrian slowly raised his brows and stared at him. His deep gaze aroused Moulin's curiousity even more. "Even if I grant it, they cannot touch the White Forest even if they want to."

"What? Why?"

"They need the permission of the Forest's creator." Hadrian answered. 

Moulin's eyes widened, surprised. "Me?... but I don't even mind it. The forest was created in an accident. I don't even remember why it was created anymore."

"You may find it trifling but the lords care. And they won't begin unless you speak to them."

"Ah... This matter..." Moulin frowned, "You should've told me sooner."

"Your father and brothers were quite adamant. They don't want me bothering you with work." Hadrian spoke, looking faultless. "What do you want to do?"

"Consider it and work." For the first time today, Moulin's eyes were shining. No more boring days. 

"However..." Hadrian smiled slightly, "You mustn't involve yourself with work until the matters of your family are solved. I doubt, your brothers and your father would agree with you in the following days. I will consult the lords of the study in your stead."

"... Ah, yes." Moulin paused, nodding thoughtfully with a concerned expression. "Then, I will leave it to you."

"Mn, how obedient..."

"..."

Moulin squints his eyes at him, annoyed, and a flurry of snow filled the room. Hadrian glanced at the accumulating snow on his desk and sighs, apologizing softly.

..........

White Forest, Outskirts of Helios

Clink!

With a crack, the icicle fell into the jar.  A man garbed in thick winter clothes was pale-faced from the freezing temperature surrounding him. The sentinel sighs in relief and pumps his fist. Collecting the delicate icicle without disturbing the rest of the ice structure of the tree was no easy task. He was one of the first to do it correctly. Ha!

Behind him, a few others were gently cutting out frozen branches, cursing under breath and hoping they wouldn't fail. 

"The scouts will be here soon. Hurry it up! I don't want to deal with another bunch of useless men." Ghana snapped as she collected her equipment, finishing up. The moment her words ended, the men around her hastened to finish up and go home. 

She furrowed her brows and scanned the area, looking past the white-coated trees. Where is Jagra again?

Farther from the site, a young man stood a distance before the edge of the White Forest, finishing up. Jagra lowered his head and collected his things slowly. The ice sang around him, twinkling exquisitely. Expressionlessly, he stood up from the snow, rubbing his hands together and patting his cheeks to warm his face. 

He must hurry back...

Clink!

Jagra frowned. He raised his gaze and froze. 

Blood-red stared down at him. A small bird perched on one of the glistening branches. Its feathers were as red as blood. Its claws and beak gleamed like sharpened obsidian. Silently, it tilted its head as though curioused at the man below him.