Royal Heirs

|7| THE MADE PRINCE (bonus chapter)

THE OBSIDIAN BLACK EYES of the young boy peered at the woman in front of him.

Seated on a steel chair identical to his, the woman wore a strange white coat over her scrubs, glasses propped on the bridge of her nose while her slender hands held onto a notepad.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Mila." She passed the boy a sickeningly calm smile, "I would like to ask you some questions, is that fine?"

The urge to break her fragile neck gripped the boy. From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the woman and man standing outside the glass observation panel and decided against the thought.

Taking in a subtle breath, he nodded to doctor Mila's question, rapping his knuckles on the edge of the table between them.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Let's start with your name?" Dr. Mila's voice was soothing.

He hated it. Hated her. Hated each of them watching over him as though he were an art-piece in a museum.

He knew they were aware of his name, yet they insisted on asking.

Regardless, he answered just so he could get done with this charade and return to his isolated shadows.

"Drystan." The icy chill in his tone wasn't lost on the doctor, who caught herself in the last moment from letting her smile drop and holding back a shudder.

He knew his voice reminded people of their worst nightmares. He revelled in the feel of it. He is their worst nightmare.

Dr. Mila maintained an uneasy smile, "That's a beautiful name."

He didn't tell her it meant sorrow.

"So Drystan, how old are you?"

Drystan's eyes were cold and lifeless, "Ten."

"For how long?"

"A century."

Dr. Mila nodded, "Do you happen to know why your aging stopped after ten while you were in your. . .condition?"

"They freezed my age to stop me from being destructive when I started showing symptoms."

"What symptoms?"

Drystan drummed his fingers against the chair again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His void pools of black orbs stared at Dr. Mila in answer and he saw her gulp as if suddenly realizing the kind of monster she was talking to.

"Can you narrate the incident that made them realize you'd gained the. . .symptoms?" Dr. Mila prodded.

Drystan tilted his head, "The first time I showed the symptoms, an entire faculty of hundred people burst open into blood and tissues, their innards melted completely while I lay there immovable. No one could recognize who was who, there was only blood and liquid remains scattered all over."

"Alright...." Dr. Mila looked nervous, a bead of sweat running down her temple, "What did they do afterwards when others found the dead faculty?"

Drystan didn't answer. He was done with her questions. He'd entertained her so long only in the thought of being able to return to solidarity in his confinement room.

If they weren't giving him that, he wasn't going to speak a cent more. If the doctor spoke another word, he'd show her exactly what happened on his first birth of symptoms.

As if his thoughts were an alarm, the woman and man who'd been watching over him from the other side of the glass entered through the observation room's door.

Dr. Mila bowed her head in respect, "Your Majesties."

Queen Mellisa passed Mila a smile before her gaze slid to her husband, Ciaran, who stared intently at the boy seated on the chair. Eyes softening, she took his hand and entwined their fingers.

Averting her attention on the doctor, "What do you think? Is there enough progress that we could. . ." Mellisa let her sentence hang.

Dr. Mila slowly nodded her head, her eyes focused on her notepad then shifting to Drystan, "He's been showing improvements in the last few months compared to the first six months he was here. He answers the question instead of utter silence unlike before. He's also aging normally now that he isn't in the state of partial coma. And he hadn't particularly shown any destructive trait yet. . ."

"But?" It was Ciaran who asked, his brow raised. Mellisa gave him a look to which he shrugged, "There's always a but."

Dr. Mila let out a nervous laugh, "His powers are growing stronger with each day and from my observation, I've figured he isn't particularly fond of human company. And if you take him with you to the castle. . ."

Mellisa sighed, "I'll keep an eye on him at all times, in case he loses his control around people. He's almost the same age as my eldest son Lysander. Drystan needs to have some normalcy too. He needs to get educated, have friends, mingle like the others. The more we keep him in this isolation ward, the more he'll grow detached from the outer world. In order to care for the outer world, he needs to be a part of it. Does your medical report deem him adaptable?"

Dr. Mila nodded, "As per the current reports, he's considered adaptable, though there'd be reservations from him. You can take him, but I'd tell you to be careful. Really careful."

Mellisa smiled at that, her eyes shifting to Drystan then to Ciaran, "We will be."

Drystan stared at the lot of them blankly. He didn't like where the conversation was headed. He had no desire to be among people.

He hated people.

They made him want to erupt, to destroy, to stop their beating heart.

Perhaps because he never felt like he had a heart himself.

Tap tap tap

Knuckles drumming, Drystan caught sight of Dr. Mila watching him with her medical gaze.

"Why do you always do that thrice?" Dr. Mila pointed at his rapping knuckles, as Mellisa and Ciaran shifted their attention to him as well.

Drystan stared down at his knuckles with a tilt of his head, "They always knocked thrice."

"Who?"

A chilly smile pulled at his lips, "The people who made me."

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What do you think of Drystan's character? Any theories?

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You people be confusion right now about who Drystan is👀
But don't worry, you'll know that in Mellisa's book.

(Someone tell me to write that book tho. I swear I know what's going to happen ahead but I just can't write😭 And I don't want to force myself to write in risk of losing interest completely💀😭)

So for now, let's keep our fingers crossed and y'all pray Miss. Inspiration soon pays me a visit!

Tata, until next time!