Excalibur's Seven | ✓ [LGBT]

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MUSIC RANG THROUGH THE air as the village rejoiced in celebration. Today was the one-hundred and fiftieth Mage Trials. Every leap year, the most powerful Gifteds from all over the kingdom would come to the castle of Avalon to test their skills and find who is worthy to serve in the Circle of Mages, the highest office a magic-wielding citizen could dream of. It was a reason to celebrate, a beacon in the ever-growing darkness of the kingdom.

But Prince Kristofer was not one for frivolous celebrations.

"Faster, Kit," Lord Herwerde demanded, jabbing his sword in Kit's direction.

"I'm going as fast as I can, but we've been at this all day. My arms are tired."

Lord Herwarde paused and lowered his sword, stepping closer with that squint Kit knew so well. "Who are you and what have you done to the Prince?"

Kit rolled his eyes and sat down on a nearby bench. "I'm sorry," he started. "I think I'm just having an off day."

"I can see that." Herwerde sat beside him and offered him a jug of water. Kit took it happily. "Well, I'm just glad you're giving yourself a break for once. You're not gonna get any better if you keep going far beyond your body's limits. You're just gonna—"

"'Hurt myself and set myself back,' yeah, I know," he interjected. "Hey, don't turn this into a lecture or it won't happen again."

His tone was serious, but Lord Herwerde must've seen right through his stone face as he cracked open a smile, pulling one from Kit's own golden cheeks.

"I think you'd better get ready for the trials anyways, they're expecting to see you there."

Kit stood up and  shed his chestplate. "No one ever expects to see me anywhere."

"That's not true."

The prince fixed him with a stare.

"I expect to see you. Now go clean yourself up, you don't want to be smelling like swine in front of the entire Gifted population." He gave the prince a playful shove with the butt of his jug and sent him on his way.

The last thing Kit wanted was to be seen in front of such an important crowd. The king never hesitated to criticize him in front of crowds, it was like his way of proving to his citizens that he knew how to keep his 'troublesome' second prince in line.

"Your bath is ready," said the gentle maid who had escorted him to the washroom. He stepped inside and slid off his clothes, sinking into the warm water.

"Leave me," he bellowed, and all the maids dropped their chores and scurried away.

Sometimes he felt he was too harsh on the servants. But if there was anyone who saw any sort of authority with him, it was them. No one else thought him anything more than a rich civilian that, unfortunately, shared a title with their beloved Connor. So perhaps he did indulge himself a bit in ordering the poor workers around.

He couldn't spend long soaking in the warm water and oils like he wanted to, because the trials would begin shortly and he needed to look ready. He let the manservant dress him, let the maids fix up his hair, and in no time, he looked like a real prince. It would feel a lot better if that was true.

By the time the mages started filing into the ballroom, Kit was slumped in his chair, which had to be brought into the room from another so he'd have a spot to be. The others had their thrones readily available.

It made Kit's stomach churn whenever he saw his brother sitting so comfortably in their mother's throne. She only died two years ago and he was already past it, like he was just waiting for her to be gone.