3 am.

The cursed hour of the day, the hour in which supernatural things happened, the hour for witches to go out and for spirits to torment and haunt who deserve it. Few people dared leave their chambers, the royal family’s counselor had made sure to convince the entire kingdom of that. And added a couple of sleeping pills to the soup. The only child of the union didn’t eat soup that night, though.

Which explained why you heard him when he passed by your room and why you stepped out of it to find him tiptoeing in the middle the hall. He deeply lamented how je forgot children had the knack of being far too curious.

With boney hands behind him and perplexed, wide eyes fixed on you, Ryabin stared, trying to mumble out an excuse as to why he was up so late. Definitely not scheming and dramatically cackling with an entire monologue of how he’d kill the king and take power over the crown, haha, nope. And neither going to the graveyard to strip some poor plant of its blooming and poisonous flowers for a potion.

“Your… Your Highness, why are you up so late?" Ryabin offered a crooked smile, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His hands hid the flowers he’d gathered using his frame to cover them, crossing his arms behind him. "It’s past your bedtime.”