Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

"There is no forgiveness for what my eldest son did to you." Her voice broke, "No matter what you have done, the family should have stayed by your side."

"I'm ashamed that my both sons had failed you, my child," Vivianne cried. Ever since she learned the truth about him, she had been devastated and knew how Jaegar grew, far away from his family and without his father and mother. That was also one of the reasons she paid special attention towards Jaegar.

And her son, a complex character yet to be understood by anyone. If not for him, Jaegar would have grown up in the palace, among his family.

"It's okay, grandmother," Jaegar held her hands, feeling that he may have been wrong about them.

Jacqueline moved to her grandmother's other side, her own eyes bright with tears.

Jaegar caught her trembling hands in his own, pressing them gently to his chest where she could feel his heartbeat – steady, strong, surviving. "Grandmother," he said softly, "you can stop feeling sorry for me. Please don't cry, not anymore. You can take care of me from now on. I will visit you more often."

The night grew deeper around them, but none of them moved to light more lamps.

Some truths were easier spoken in shadows, and some pain was easier shared in the gentle darkness of understanding.

Finally, Vivianne straightened, years of imperial training helping her gather her composure even as her eyes remained bright with tears. She touched Jaegar's face one more time – too late for the past, but a promise for the future. "My brave boy," she whispered. "My precious, precious child."

"I will not let you be alone again," she said, looking in his eyes.

Jaegar's emotions wall cracked. Remembering his departure from his home, his aunt, tears welled in his eyes as he kept his head in her lap, holding back his tears. He didn't want to be crybaby about it, but every time he remembered that day, he couldn't stop himself.

Vivianne ran her fingers through his hair, calming him.

***

A little away from the palace, the pleasure district blazed with magical lights, a stark contrast to the refined soirée that had concluded hours before.

Lanterns cast their glow in various hues—red for passion, gold for luxury, and purple for discretion – marking the different establishments that catered to every taste and purse.

The infamous district housed everything from penny brothels to exclusive mansions where the wealthy could indulge their desires away from society's judging eyes.

The Crimson Rose Mansion stood as one of the most prestigious establishments, its windows gleaming with expensive privacy wards that cost more than most citizens earned in a year.

Inside, the air was heavy with exotic incense and enchanted aromatics, designed to lower inhibitions and heighten sensations. Crystal orbs floated near the ceiling, casting intimate pools of light across the main hall where various entertainments were taking place.

In the centre of the opulent space, surrounded by plush divans and silk cushions, sat two men who seemed determined to drink their way through the mansion's extensive wine cellar.

Lorcan, third son of the Emperor, had shed his formal robes from the soirée, his imperial markings now partially hidden by his dishevelled hair. Beside him, Ethan lounged with the easy confidence of a man well-acquainted with such establishments.

"To hell with him," Lorcan slurred, raising his crystal goblet. "Coming back here like he owns the place. The whole palace is talking about him." The wine in his glass sloshed dangerously.

Ethan signalled for another bottle, his eyes following the dancing women who moved to the music produced by instruments. "Forget about Jaegar," he advised, his voice carrying the false wisdom of the deeply intoxicated. "Look around you – plenty of distractions here."

"Why can't he just stay dead?" Lorcan continued, ignoring the entertainment. "He warned me…" He drained his glass instead of finishing the thought.

The dancers moved like smoke in the air, their gauzy costumes enhanced by subtle magic that made them appear to float. But Lorcan barely saw them, his mind trapped in a loop of Jaegar's images.

***

Meanwhile, in the imperial palace's residential east wing, Jaegar moved through the shadows like he'd been born to them. His boots made no sound on the marble floors.

The guards bowed as he walked past them; no one dared enough to stop him at night.

He reached a certain door, and the medium-sized door before him bore a type of vine design. It was locked, but nothing he couldn't handle.

Sometimes the best way past a ward was not to break it but to convince it you belonged. A subtle flick of his wrist and the lock yielded with a soft click.

Inside, the room was bathed in soft moonlight filtering through gauzy curtains. The air held the delicate scent of night-blooming jasmine, and a single enchanted candle cast a warm glow near the vanity.

Princess Kyra sat before the mirror, her hair falling loose over a chemise of fine cotton so sheer it seemed to capture and hold the candlelight. Her fingers absently traced patterns on the vanity's surface – protection runes, Jaegar noted, though whether consciously drawn or not, he couldn't tell.

He moved behind her with the silent grace that had been drilled into him during those dark years of "training."

In the mirror, their reflections created a striking tableau – the rebel prince in his formal attire, standing behind the ethereal princess in her nightclothes. The contrast was almost poetic.

Kyra's hands stilled on the vanity as she caught sight of him in the mirror. Her eyes widened, a small gasp escaping her lips as she spun to face him.

Fear, surprise, and something else – something darker and more dangerous – flashed across her features.

"Hello, Princess Kyra," Jaegar said softly, his voice carrying just enough warmth to be improper.

The space between them crackled with unspoken tension, with all the things they'd never dared say at court.

The candle flickered, casting shadows that danced across their faces, hiding and revealing in equal measure.

Outside, the moon continued its journey across the sky, indifferent to the drama unfolding in the princess's chambers, while elsewhere in the city, her betrothed drowned his suspicions in wine and false comfort.