The Duke's Passion

815  What a simpleton

[ COLOSSEUM ]

"Ugh!" Claude crashed into the concrete wall of the coliseum, sending him out of the establishment to the space before the raised platform. His palm was propped on the ground, wiping the blood on the corner of his lips with the back of his fist. For two months, Claude had battled in this stadium where all the seats were always occupied by countless audiences all across the kingdom. Cheers of approval would always resonate in this place while blood would splutter on that raised platform. But tonight, it was just utter silence. Strange how the noises inside the coliseum didn't reach this area, but it wasn't surprising. It would take at least several thousand people cheering to penetrate that building where the warriors were held captive. "What a troublesome lad," he mumbled, catching a silhouette in the thick smoke advancing in his direction. "I can't believe I am being held up by him."

Claude spat out blood to the side, pushing himself up. He stretched his neck and shoulders, producing satisfying cracks. When the stiffness in his muscles eased up, he set his eyes back on the person who came out of the smoke. Tristan Willow. Zero's bastard son. It was still a mystery why Zero kept his son alive when he slaughtered everyone in the Moriarty Clan. Even Lilou wasn't able to unravel that mystery. All they knew was that Zero kept his son close for his own reason. "I told myself, it doesn't matter the reason Quentin kept you alive and even kept you close by his side," mused Claude, offering Tristan Willow a thin smile. "But I'm really curious, Tristan Willow. You know your king, who is also your father, couldn't have this so-called familial affection."

"He might've kept you by his side, but I'm certain you know there was a different reason," he continued with a tinge of mockery in his tone. "Don't tell me you're allowing him to use you to his heart's content just because he claimed to be your father?"

"Are you the one to talk?"

"Huh?"

Tristan's eyelids drooped, scrutinizing his opponent from head to toe. "A once child locked in the towers of the cold palace. Your royal parents were executed by the man who adopted you as his son," he reminded Claude. "You once called your parent's murderer your father, isn't it? And you lived your life as his neglected son. If not for the Duke and Duchess of Grimsbanne, I can imagine you playing the role of a royal prince."

10:16

"That is why I was curious." Despite the irritating remarks Tristan spewed, Claude maintained his calm. What Tristan said was nothing but the fact, and getting riled up over it wouldn't change it. "You are correct, Tristan Willow. There was a period when I once addressed the person who killed my beloved parents' father, and I will never forget how I had to grit my teeth every time he act immaculately in front of me."

"It's repulsing even to listen to a man preach when you know they were no better than you," he continued, smirking. "That is why I can't understand you, Tristan Willow. If it's me, there was no way in hell I would obey him. Especially, the current me won't allow that. The young Claude is too vulnerable and barely survived that hell under the protection of my uncle, but now, I don't need such protection anymore."

"I can decide for myself, risk my life, prepare myself for the regrets I might face later on, and shoulder the consequences of my actions." Claude cocked his head to the side, blinking ever so tenderly. "And one of those decisions was to not allow that man to have control over me ever again."

"We might've worked on the same goal now, but whether he dies in his battle or emerge victorious is none of my concerns," he added with confidence. "All that matters is that we get done with this situation and part ways with no personal emotions involved."

"So you have forgiven him?" Claude's brows rose before furrowing them. "Forgiveness?"

"From all that blabbering, all that is clear is that you have forgiven him. Won't your late parents feel wrong for that?" Tristan flashed him a short smile. "They had died in the hands of Stefan La Crox just because he was initially threatened that their existence would put his position as the king in peril. How come their child, who should've avenged them, wasn't even considering it?" n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The wind howled silently, blowing away the words that left Tristan Willow's lips. The silence that followed sounded way louder than the occasional shrill from afar. Both of them stared at each other without saying a word before Claude let out a shallow breath.

"Poor thing." Claude shook his head mildly. "I don't know why you took my nonchalance as forgiveness, but sure. Let's say I had forgiven him, and what is it to my birth parents has anything to do with that? I'm sure they'd rather wish that I live a far better and more peaceful life than take the course of revenge."

"Even if that isn't what they truly wanted, what I am certain of is that they were the type of people who would wish for me to do what will make me feel alive," he continued, eyes softening at the thought of his birth parents. Claude might've had limited memories of Lucia and Dyrroth (his mother and father), but he was certain they were both good people. Holding a grudge and taking the revenge route was something they wouldn't approve of; especially if this revenge was for their deaths.

"The last thing they want was for their child to lead a lonely life," Claude whispered, raising his gaze back to Tristan. "That I am certain of."

The corner of Tristan's lips curled up into an amused smirk, chuckling with his lips closed. Claude's expression sharpened at the ridiculing chuckles caressing his ears. "How amusing," mused Tristan, and in a heartbeat, he suddenly appeared right behind Claude. The latter's breath hitched, taken aback at how fast Tristan was. Tristan was faster than he was a second ago. "Lucia and Dyrroth surely raised their kid with love," were the words Claude heard from behind him, but somehow, Tristan's voice sounded like Zero's. "I too raised my son with all the love he could ask from a father. That is why he will offer his body to me if I asked nicely. What a simpleton."