Chapter One ● Rumors

                                    

                                              
Alastor shut his lids together tightly, seeing red due to the sunlight seeping into his room. The boy groaned softly, not having the strength to open his eyes from the sun's bright rays. He shifted to let his arm pull out from beneath him, limbs a little numb from sleep. His arm rested over his eyes, shielding them and allowing him to open them. His lashes tickled his arm as he did, sighing heavily and slowly turning over so his back facing the window. He huffed softly as he snuggled into his soft bed, his hooded out staring at the wall. He had been awake for a good few minutes and yet he already felt he was forgetting something. His chocolate brown bangs fell into his face, brows furrowed in thought.
   He felt the thought hit him like a steel arrow, gasping as he jumped up, his long hair frizzy from the silk sheets and suffering from bed head. “My meeting!” He gasped, throwing off his comforter and sheets to hop from his bed. He squeaked when he slipped, falling to the floor in his rush and whining when he heard his borzoi give an annoyed ‘ruff’ from being awoken so suddenly on the bed. “Sorry, Ambrosia!” He quickly said as he rushed to his feet. He bounded for his closet, slipping off his robe with each stride. He was bare of clothes by the time he got to it, muttering curses as he pulled out his casual outfit. In reality, not of his outfits seemed casual with him being the prince. He quickly slipped into the clothes, hopping around as he pulled his jeans up to his waist, sucking in his gut for an easier fit.
   He barely brushed his long hair, a sin for someone with hair that went past their rump, and rushed out the door while putting on a boot. As he stepped into it finally he used his other foot to hook onto the door handle. He pulled it, shutting his room door and racing down the hallway. He didn’t have the time nor patience to have ‘proper hall manners’ and walk calmly, beyond late for the meeting he was supposed to be hosting. His thoughts raced as he sped towards the meeting place. In his haste, he accidentally ran right into someone turning from a corner. He gave a startled squeak as he stumbled back a bit, the person giving an angry shout from the encounter. He didn’t even notice the sound of some cups shattering on the floor from impact, in a haze and needing to leave. “I'm so sorry!” He gasped before dashing around the person, guilt quickly passing through him in the stress to be there before the meeting ended.
                          
   “I’m here! I’m here, I’m sorry.” The teen gasped as he burst into the room, his hair a bit of a mess, bangs attached to his face from sprinting there. ‘Gods, I need to get in better shape.’ He thought to himself, swallowing before a soft pant escaped him. Councilmen's heads turned to see him, most looking unimpressed and some simply amused.
   “Your highness..” Sulivan sighed as he clasped his hands together, looking so strained to feign his kindness “How wonderful of you to join… Let’s see, 30 minutes late?” He snided, rolling his shoulders as he eyed the messy prince. He felt his face flush with heat, embarrassed. “I'm sorry, I slept in…” He murmured sheepishly as he sat at his seat. “We couldn’t tell…” Sulivan grumbled under his breath. Alastor put on a nervous smile, somehow still holding that young prince charm, “I’m still not used to my schedule.” He giggled breathlessly, only earning an eye roll from Sulivan. “Even after a week?” He scoffed to the boy, Ali’s frown quickly returning. One of the councilmen cleared their throats, “Your majesty-” “Alastor… Please.” He interrupted softly. The man stared at him before sighing, “Before you walked in we were discussing Morrier.” The name made him frown.
 Throughout his childhood, he always heard murmurs of Morrier by castle staff and his mother but it was only recently he was being forced to discuss and learn the true nature of Morrier and what was happening. He, of course, knew that there were three kingdoms, Inverino, Morrier, and his own, Ena. Inverino was strange, he never could form an opinion on it. They were so strict and strange yet unhostile so he found he had no reason to. His only thought he had was a memory he held onto. He had found a book on the kingdoms when he was but a child, amazed by the beautiful drawings of Inverinos buildings and people. He thought it was a utopia until learning how segregated and cruel they were… Morrier on the other hand always had such a negative title, but it seemed for good reason. Morriers were hunters and ever since the beginning of the kingdoms always seemed to want to be the only one standing. He learned that when he read about Alstainia, the abandoned fourth kingdom, attacked and taken down by Morrier, their people enslaved or killed. But Morrier made sure it was made only a rumor.
Alastor frowned as he removed himself from his thoughts, looking back at the senior member who had engaged with him about Morrier. “Why? What’s wrong? ‘Other than the constant threat of violence…’ He thought to himself. “Morrieran knights continue to pick fights and engage in scuffles with our trade carriers.” Alastor frowned at the information, biting on his nail without thought, the act automatic. “What would you want us to do?” Another councilman chimed in, leaning forward in his seat. “I…” Alastor frowned as he thought, his unnaturally red eyes scanning the table and landing on Sulivan. He paused, always feeling so vulnerable when the man-made direct eye contact with him. He felt like he was being eyed by a predator. He remembered he was supposed to be answering a question and turned his attention back to his council as best as he could. “...I believe we should…” He lost his train of thought and in a second his mind went completely blank. He swallowed nervously, looking up at the men at the table, locking eyes once more with Sulivan. The greying man narrowed his pale blue gaze and Ali grew more timorous. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing with it. “I’m going to think over my decision…” “Sire, if we act too late-” “It will be fine, sir…” Alastor breathed as he stood, brushing some of his bangs from his face. “I apologize for wasting all your time… Have a good day.” He nodded to them, Sulivan the first to walk out, being sure his much broader figure pushed past him, practically trampling him. The boy inhaled and looked at him, brows furrowed, ‘Must be the fifth silent tantrum of the week..’ He gave a heavy breath and walked out of the room, his exhaustion hitting him from the stress of being so late and all the adrenaline leaving him.
He was sluggish as he entered the hall, frowning as all the councilmen talked amongst another, a few glancing at him. He couldn’t read the glances but it didn’t feel good. He turned to avoid them directly and walked down the hall, hoping to make it to his room or maybe even visit his mother. He smiled sadly at the thought. His mother. It made him so sad to see her how she was. He’s had illnesses before, so has his mother! In the times he’d get sick his mother would always coo and coddle him. He had this strange fear of the nurses when he was young but his mother would always manage to calm him down. When he was feeling very sick and miserable she’d always go down to the kitchen despite the cooks' protest and make food herself for him. Every time she’d make her special recipe of kimchi rice, always saying it was made from love and he’d reply by promising to make it for her one day when she was feeling bad.
That one memory made him frown immediately. She was ill… So ill she couldn’t stand, she coughed up blood, a rumor was spreading fast that she might even… He swallowed shakily, his eyes watering fast before his thought even finished. It felt like he had swallowed a pill and it was caught in his throat, stomach-churning. He gasped as he gently bumped into someones back, by the feel of it they seemed tall, lean, built like a dancer. “Oh-!” He inhaled as he pulled away, brushing his bangs away again as the person turned around. “I'm awful today, I'm so so-....-rry…” He paled a bit when the man stared him down and quickly wore a scowl, brows furrowed so tight his skin wrinkled with his anger. “The same brat from earlier-” The man growled sharply, “You’re the reason I’ll be lashed again!” He snapped hard, his accent thick. Alastor stared at him, honestly completely startled and surprised, already on the brink of tears. He remembered earlier, how he was in a rush and bumped into someone… Oh, stars.
“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” He gasped, connecting the dots. The man sighed heavily as he tapped his foot impatiently on the ground, dressed in a usual servant attire. He wore a baggy white tunic that looked like it was tied up in a rush, showing a bit below his collarbone. Most of the white cover was tucked into tight pants, some edges poking out. Alastor swallowed and quickly wiped his eyes, “I-I was late for a meeting,” He stammered, “I didn’t mean to.” He breathed out, the guilt crawling up his spin to make him shiver, begging for forgiveness. The servant sighed heavily and looked down at him, eyes narrowed like the wheels were turning. He eyed him and paused, “What are you? Certainly aren’t dressed like a slave..” He scoffed, making Alastor paused. “A slave..?” He echoed softly, his eyes sad. “There are no slaves here…” And that seemed to be all the servant needed to hear, his eyes widening a touch before they narrowed greatly. “I see… The prince.” He grunted, his fingers tapping an onyx bracelet he wore, seemingly mindlessly, almost like a reminder. Alastor frowned and nodded, “I'm Alastor.” “Gee, thank you, your highness, I never would’ve guessed.” The man growled a bit, gaze sharp. Ali frowned as he looked at him, getting time to study his features. As he looked over his sharp structured face, nearly black eyes, scars lining his skin (the most obvious being an ‘M’ carved in his cheek), greying slicked back hair and beard with a hooked nose he realized he had… Never seen this servant before. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you new?” “I was just uprooted from Morrier yesterday and placed to waste my life serving here.” He grumbled lowly, the sound straight from the back of his throat.
Alastor’s tongue pushed against the wall of his mouth, thinking as he looked up at him, having to crane his neck. “What’s your name?” “What?” He scoffed back, raising a thick black brow. “What’s your-” “I heard you.” The servant growled, eyes like daggers before he leaned back, huffing like an angry bull staring down a red flag. “...Monte.” The servant grunted finally, hesitant to give it away. “Monte?” Alastor blinked, his lashes soft on his skin as he did, earning a nod from Monte. “Monte…” He hummed softly, lips puckered up in thought. “I love it! It’s pretty…” By the look on Monte’s face that was certainly something, he didn’t expect to hear. Monte scoffed and shook his head, “I need to do my chores by dinner.” He huffed quietly, “Or else I’ll get a ‘good beating’.” By the way, he added the next part it sounded like a direct quote off of someone. Alastor frowned deeply, now hearing him mention a violent punishment twice in just under 10 minutes. “Beat?” He repeated, his voice sad and worried. ‘Who's telling the servants that?’ He thought.
 Monte looked at him, once again raising a brow, something Alastor was growing painfully used to. “Did I stutter, your highness?” He looked like it was a chore for him to say the term. “No! I just…” He paused, stammering a bit and trying to find his words, looking down and earning a strange look from Monte. He once again was tapping his bracelet. “...I'm sorry for distracting you, Monte.” He finally said, his tone soft, genuinely guilty. That seemed to only anger the man, his brows narrowing tightly again, a thin space between them. Monte finally let a scoff leave him and walked down the hallway. Alastor frowned as he watched, his eyes full of so much worry for the servant. What was happening behind the scenes?
Alastor found his feet dragging him towards Sulivans' quarters. He couldn’t place it but he felt like he could get his answers there. He knew his mother wouldn’t be involved in something like that. He knew her too well. He took in a deep breath as he saw his door approaching, getting closer to his destination. He had no idea how this conversation would go. ‘Hey Sulivan, I heard someone's beating servants! Care to explain?’ He shook his head at the exchange. As much as Sulivan seemed bad he didn’t want to accuse him of such a thing… He couldn’t be that bad of a guy. He was still his mother's previous right-hand man, now his for now. Even if they were at each other's heads nearly constantly. He swallowed when he finally made it to the door, his hand moving to the handle, an automatic movement, not thinking much as he turned the handle. He knocked last minute, the door already half-open. ‘Whoops’. “What the hell do-” Sullivan's voice was quick to sound, followed by the sound of him slamming a book shut. He paused the two locking eyes. ‘Here we go…’ Alastor swallowed as Sullivan seemed to take a deep breath.