The Imperials

Prologue

22nd century

Deep within the palace walls of great opulence, Prince Dawud sat on his extensive metal desk with his school books and technological devices spread out. His chamber echoed with stillness, and his bodyguards and assistants guarded him from the outer halls from his room. With each passing second, the tense silence had the prince's heart fiercly palpitating. His shoulders stayed stiffly still, and his hands made an outstretched crown of frustration on his forehead.

Hundreds of troublesome notions sprinted across the prince's head, and school work was the last of tasks he cared about. The king was ill--very ill--his illness getting dire with the beat of second leaving him dreadfully bedridden. His agonic cries and breathless groans echoed through the East Wing of the palace worrying every mankind of his kingdom. Only professional nurses and doctors were permitted in the sanctuary of his royal chamber, and of course her majesty, the Queen.

With rage scorching his head, Prince Dawud threw one of his books aggressively across his room at the wall in front of him. The gleaming golden walls that shone due to the chandeliers illuminance utterly outraged him. Everything was cheery, even the wall in front of him glossed with jovial glamour. Why was everything mocking his defeat, his sorrow, his downfall?

A sudden rap on his chamber alerted his attention. "Come in!" He shrieked loudly.

One of the Queen's black suited guards entered his chamber and nodded at him with respect, his hands professionally clasped behind his back. "Her majesty, Queen Inayah sends the message of the king's position in the hospital. She also urgently requests your highness's and Prince Daniel's immediate attendance--"

 Prince Dawud wanted to scream and throttle this man to quicken his speech that he so direly needed. Was his professionality also a means of mocking his terror of losing his father?

"You must come with me now!" The man bowed his head in respect, before jogging ahead of the prince gesturing for him to tread on the heels of his lead to reach his father's destination. 

Prince Dawud immediately began jogging behind his mother's men with his heart beating wildly and his chest tightening due to the terrified strain in his heart. "Is Prince Daniel aware?"

"He is quite aware."

He gritted his teeth with rage. "Where is he--?"

"Akhi, what's going on?" Prince Daniel, Prince Dawud's ten year old brother interrupted breathlessly appearing beside him with one of his personal men at his side. His hair that was always slicked back was a tousled mess, although he still held his head high with his hands nervously jammed inside his pockets. "Is Abi alright... I mean how's the king?" He corrected instantly. 

"I have no idea." Prince Dawud answered curtly, his voice tensed and troubled.

"Where's Princess Dilara?"

"I don't know, Daniel." Prince Dawud snapped, seething with annoyance and Prince Daniel fell quiet abruptly sensing the abhor tension.

The taut atmosphere accompanied them through their dreadful expedition to the hospital. Upon arrival, both Princes hastily sprinted through the halls of the hospital, leaving their men chasing after them calling them to soften their pace. They paid no heed. They ran, their feet pounding against the white tiled floor as they dodged beds and wheelchairs, their guards barking orders to the nurses and doctors to shift aside out of the royal princes route. 

"It's this room!" Prince Dawud panted breathlessly, eyeing the door number before bursting in with his younger brother at his side.

The room was secluded with only the imperial family surrounding the adverse bedridden king. The king gave a hearty cough sputtering a gout of blood, his eyes rolled back and wearily he slumbed back on his pillow. The Queen and nurses jumped up to assist to his needs with panic.