Dawn of The New Lord

15| Zyron

TW: Mentions of alcohol, brief mentions of fire and blood, mentions of deaths, hints towards eating disorders

Zyron's POV

    I groaned at the ridiculously blinding sun beaming through the glass panes. I swear I'd closed the curtains last night. I rolled over to try and get more rest, only to be interrupted by a chain of knocks on the door.

    "Prince Zyron, it's time to wake up," chimed a castle maid.

    "I'm up, thank you," I croaked, my voice still raspy considering I had just woken up. The irksome clacking of the maid's shoes echoed through the door, finally fading slowly. Finally opening my probably bloodshot eyes, I instantly shut them closed again since the sun was shining straight into my eyes. I'll be blind one of these days. I sat up before scanning around the room. It's an immense mess.

    Empty bottles of whiskey scattered all over the floor, an empty glass on the desk with just a couple drops of whiskey left inside. Normally Kieran would be drinking with me and we'd be having the time of our lives together, but of course that was out of picture. My head started pounding. I groaned, rubbing my forehead.

    Hangovers. My new best pal.

    I trudged out of bed and headed to the bathroom and slumped by the sink. Goodness, I feel like I'm about to vomit. I shrugged it off and just went on with my day, starting with a shower. I reeked.

➵➵➵

    I poured myself more fine whiskey as I glared at the picture sat on the desk in my room. Me and Kieran were laughing whilst on horses. The nerve of that moron, leaving me in this dreary old castle.

    "Cheers." I sighed, clinking the cup with the glass frame protecting the picture, downing the cup of whiskey in one huge gulp. Slamming the cup down to the table, I pushed myself up and headed to the door. As a royal, you are expected to be near to emotionless.

    You get your arse up, prepare for the drab day, do whatever it is that's thrown your way- without protest, might I add- and be expected to act perfectly fine through all of it.

    I've been doing excellent if I do say so myself.

    "Good morning, Your Highness," chorused the staff of the castle, maids, guards, butlers and all.

    "Good morning everyone," I responded half-heartedly, the stoic expression remaining in its place, not wavering one bit.

    I sternly headed to my study, not sparing anyone another glance.

    Shutting the heavy black door behind me, I glanced at my wooden table, noticing files and papers on top of it. Work. Sauntering towards the table, my eyes darted around the room, searching for more liquor.

    Ah, there was a glass and whiskey on the round table next to the fireplace. The maids were getting more clever.

    I sat down on the armchair before pouring whiskey into my glass, ready to be intoxicated again. My daily life now.

    I took a huge gulp, staring at the fire roaring across me in its place, heating up the cold room. My thoughts began to drift back towards the atrocious murderer- Lady Wyetta.

    Some lady she was. I scoffed out loud in irritation, before I started seeing the vision of Kieran's lifeless body in front of me. Dead. He was dead. Mother, dead. Althea and grandma, dead.

   "Argh!" I hurled my glass of whiskey, watching it forcefully collide with the brick walls above the fireplace. With tightly clenched fists, I looked down to see the remaining broken pieces near my black dress shoe.