the blue flame

Felix sat alone on the cold garden bench, the bruises on his back aching beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. The world was quieter here—no shouts, no slamming doors, just the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. For a moment, he could almost pretend he wasn’t the son of Mr. Commanded.

A sleek black car slowed as it passed by the garden’s edge. The driver glanced toward Elias, then stopped. After a pause, the door opened, and a man stepped out.

“Felix?” the man called gently.

Felix flinched. He turned slightly, ready to bolt, but then recognized the face—sharp suit, kind eyes. David. He’d seen him once before at one of his father’s political gatherings, where Elias had been forced to attend and remain silent.

David approached slowly, hands raised as if trying not to spook a stray animal. “It’s okay. I’m not here to take you back.”

Felix stared at him, unsure.

“I know who you are,” David said quietly. “And I know what kind of man your father is.”

Felix looked away, ashamed. “I just wanted to breathe.”

David nodded. “That’s why I’m here too. Gardens are safe like that. Quiet places help you think.”

They stood in silence for a while, the tension gently melting.

David sat beside him. “Listen. I know things are hard. But graduation is coming soon, right? Once you're out of school, you’ll have more power than you think. Just hold on a little longer.”

Felix blinked. “You think I can really get away from him?”

“I know you can,” David said. “And when you’re ready, I can help.”

Felix didn’t say anything, but for the first time in a long while, his heartbeat slowed. Someone knew. Someone believed him. And someone was offering a way out.

Would you like to continue with Elias’s escape plan, or explore his relationship with David next? I can help with either Felix's escape or developing David's role.

Felix returned home that evening with a strange new calmness in his chest. David’s words echoed in his head: “Be patient. Wait until you're of age. Then you can choose your life.”

The bruises still throbbed, but he felt lighter somehow—as if the future was no longer just a dark tunnel. When he stepped into the house, however, his father was waiting in the parlor, smiling. That alone made Felix uneasy.

“There’s a proposal,” his father said, swirling his whiskey glass. “You’ve been chosen.”

Felix's heart skipped. “Chosen?”

“For marriage,” his father said flatly. “Mr. David sent the request. He wants you.”

he froze. David? The man who comforted him in the garden? Who gave him hope?

Before he could speak, his father added, “I accepted it. The ceremony will be held in two weeks.”

It happened fast—preparations filled the days. Tailors came. The house bustled with guests and arrangements. Felix didn’t even get a chance to speak with David privately. But in the whirlwind of it all, a small, desperate part of him believed: maybe David meant it. Maybe this was his way of saving him early.

The wedding was quiet, but elegant. David looked as kind as ever. And for a few days after, he was gentle. Respectful. The same calm man from the garden.

But then, something changed.

It started subtly. David grew cold. He avoided Felix’s gaze. He didn’t speak much anymore. Then came the first outburst. Felix had dropped a teacup by accident. David grabbed his wrist—tight. Too tight. His voice, low and sharp, was nothing like before.

“I didn’t marry a child,” he growled. “Don’t act like one.”

What he didn’t know—what he would later discover—was that his father had visited David days before the proposal. He had twisted the story, saying Felix was manipulative, shameful, a burden on the family name. He offered land, power, and favors if David would "set him straight" through marriage.

David, under the illusion of justice and ambition, agreed.

Now the kindness was gone. And every day, Elias had to face the wrath of a man who once promised to protect him.

And still, his birthday—his coming of age—was months away.

Would you like to continue with Felix's emotional struggle, or how he begins to uncover the truth and plans his next move? I can help expand on Elias's suffering or his plan for freedom.

The walls of David’s estate were taller than Elias remembered them being. They didn’t just separate him from the world; they swallowed his identity whole.

At first, Felix tried to be the perfect spouse. He cleaned, listened, served tea the way David liked it. He stayed quiet when David came home late, smelling of whiskey and other people’s perfume. But perfection didn’t soften David—it only seemed to harden him further.

“You look like your father when you’re quiet like that,” David said one evening, his tone bitter. “So smug. So calculated.”

Felix flinched. “I’m not him.”

David scoffed and turned away.

The months passed in a cold blur. Sometimes, David disappeared for days. Other times, he was there too much—hovering, controlling, sharp-tongued. He never raised a hand, but his anger was a cage made of words and silence.

Then one morning, while gathering laundry, Felix found a torn letter in David’s study drawer. Half of it was missing, but what remained made his blood run cold.

“...Felix will destroy everything if he thinks he has a choice. You must make sure he stays dependent. I trust your discretion. Once he’s under control, we’ll move to the second phase of the agreement.”

It was signed with his father’s wax seal.

Felix sat there for hours, clutching the torn paper. Everything he feared was true—his father didn’t just give him away. He sold him. And David... wasn’t just tricked. He was complicit.

But in the quiet hours of the night, something inside Felix  began to shift. He was no longer the frightened boy hiding in gardens. He was a young man with knowledge. He had endured too much. And he had waited long enough.

His birthday was in three months. The coming-of-age ceremony would mark his legal freedom. His father couldn’t hold him anymore. David would have no say. He just needed to survive.

So Felix began to observe. He listened to David’s calls. Noted the names. The meetings. The files. He learned how the house operated. Who the staff answered to. What doors stayed locked and why.

Then he started writing again—secretly—letters to Mr. Han, the only adult who had ever tried to protect him. He never signed them. He used a symbol only Mr. Han would recognize: a small ink sketch of a silver ring—David’s gift to him from the garden day.

Weeks passed.

Then, one evening just after dinner, a note arrived for FELIX under his bedroom door. No sender. Just six words:

“When the candle burns blue—run.”

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