Wrought From Shadows

Chapter Two - Blood and Water

There are few things Alexei Viktor Synovia despised, but within that list, possibly near the top, was visiting his uncle. When he was a child he adored his time at the majestic palace adjacent to his own, vibrant fern gardens and intricate pillars ideal for conducting silly games and wasting away his days. But now, with his shoulders broad and heavy, he'd rather spend his precious hours accustoming himself to the affairs of the kingdom he was set to inherent, not play false diplomacy with a man he loathed.

"Pass the mulberry jam, Alexei," commanded a soft voice. One that belonged to his mother, the woman who had insisted on this vexing agreement. Perhaps the gaze he granted her was harsh because her dark brows drew together, hazel eyes shifting chary.

"Don't force the Prince to do that," his uncle interjected, beckoning a maid forward with a sharp gesture of his goblet. "Menial tasks aren't meant for–"

"He can pass me the jam jar, Jaromir." Her response was final, hard as it hit the suddenly tense air. The maid shrunk back into herself, head bowed, an image that cut through Alexei. He passed the jar without further word, lips drawn thin. Jaromir was silent too, staring at his sister with an unsettling gaze. This strung movement lingered as Marissa spread the mauve toned jam across her toast, unaware of her look stuck on her brothers features, only to be broken by Alias releasing a hacking cough.

"Alias! Manners. Were you not taught how to use a handkerchief? Or have a you forgotten that?"

His sister muffled a meek apology, avoiding the brazen look their mother shoot in her direction. Alexei couldn't help but graze his foot against her's beneath the table, the sympathetic smile pulling at his lips quick. Alias did not return it.

"Leave the girl alone, Marissa," Jaromir commented, toying with the array of cold cuts on his plate.

"I'd appreciated it if you withheld your comments on how I govern my children, brother." She didn't give him time to respond, delicately setting the bread between her lips, but she bit down on it hard. The exhale that drifted from his uncle's lips was felt through all of them, weighted and weary.

"Isn't breakfast supposed to be a joyous event?" Alexei didn't intend to say it out loud, but the words are already gone, plucked from his throat like the autumn breeze sweeps leaves off trees.

"Is this not a joyous event?" Jaromir returned, examining the wine in his cup. An attentive maid refills it before a demand erupts from his mouth.

"I wouldn't call bickering over tedious matters joyous." Alexei's response was levelled, measured now to abate his previous carelessness. "Perhaps we should cut breakfast short."

"You'll finish your food before you leave this table, Alexei," his mother returned, her stare cold. "And your Uncle is going hunting today, I suggest you join him."

Ah, there is the reason for this forced arrangement; a supposed natural opportunity for Alexei and his uncle to bond. Except Alexei spurns hunting and he'd prefer be in the castle today – various books to read, meetings to attend, tunnels to roam. His aversions must have been evident on his face because he received a pleading glare from Alias, one he returned with a raised brow.

"I was meant to invite him myself, Marissa." Jaromir's irritation coloured the sentence, the words slicing through the air to reach the Queen.

"You were taking too long. I decided to do it myself." Of course, she did. That was how his mother operated after all.

"Well," Jaromir countered, cocking his thick neck. He looked rather like a bursting sausage at times, rolls of skin spilling from the pressed pristine folds of his collar. "It makes it rather difficult for Alexei to agree."