𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟓

Dameon

♡

I really need a vacation.

We silently observe as the portal closes again, the back of Aiden shivering slightly at the cold introduction to Hilas weather being the last thing I take notice of before turning towards Liam. The man in question scolding poor Candice for the uncountable time, wanting her to stay away from Princess Pandora. He's always been on the rougher side, so with yet another danger walking within the halls of the Palace, it's understandable that he's on the edge. We all are, when it comes to him. It's the first time he finally found someone to cherish after her death. I couldn't imagine the memories that the Princess arrival triggered. I, myself, am ashamed to admit that her presence has affected in more ways than it should've.

"Brother." I announce my presence hereby interrupting their daily bickering, his stance visibly relaxing under my trusted hand on his shoulder.

"Do you have any idea where the King is?" I ask, the last half of the sentence purposely a tad lower than the first. By now, I'm well used to Candice's almost overly dramatic reaction every time I mention His Highness. Sure, the rumours circulating about him aren't exactly bright and joyful, but he never imposed a threat on her and even wears his Concealing Spell every time she's around to make her feel more at ease. Even though her emotions are the least of his concerns, what matters is that, by the end of the day, he's never hurt or threatened her. That thought makes it more and more difficult to remain impassive towards her constant shivering whenever we mention him. He's our King, not some plague we still fear with our own death for Gods' sake.

I've known Candice all her life, yet at times it feels as if I don't know her at all.

"I haven't seen him since this morning. Check his chambers, he probably stayed there since the halls were packed with servants this noon."

With a last tap on the shoulder, I leave the throne hall at fast pace, wanting to get out of the room that's been unrightfully called mine for the last century. A King should feel at home whenever he catches sight of his throne, yet all I dare to feel is the taunting guilt of sitting on a Kingdom that doesn't belong to me, and never will. It never would've been, wasn't it for Ciaran using my Holy name to force me to wear the crown.

"You're the one my people want as their ruler, how could I possibly let such grand opportunity to rest pass by?" Is what he said with that same creepy smile he always carries. The darkening corridors, and accumulating dust particles tell me that I'm nearing the only habitable room of the South Wing. The frightened glances of servants thrown my way is something I'll never get used to, so I do what I always have when they scurry away as soon as I open the doors to the secluded wing. I ignore them - wholeheartedly.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I curse, knowing full well that he can hear me perfectly fine, yet at the same time not giving enough to care for it. It's been at least five times this week that the halls are misty with the heavy smoke of Bronze Leaf.

Unlike Silver Root, the drug isn't fatal, but instead causes for serious hallucinations and a hazy state of mind. It isn't meant for leisurely use, yet he always steals some from the catacombs, where we use it as truth potion for political captives, or spies caught in the act.

With a hand over my mouth, I open his bedroom door and let out a series of deep coughs instead of doubling over in sheer dizziness. The large window giving me a blurry overall look of his current position. As always, he lays passively on his black lounging chair. One hand supporting the weigh of his head, while the other holds the long drug pipe against his lips. It's been over two hundred years since I serve him, and I got used to most of his odd sides and habits.