shackled

chapter one - kaian's perspective

Decades. Generations. Centuries. My family has ruled over the kingdom of Vetiti for as long as I can remember. Royalty occupies more parts of my blood than iron does. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

My curtains were pulled open gently, light flooding the room like a dam just broke.
"Good morning Kaian," I was greeted softly. I rubbed fists to my crusted eyes and brushed the honey coloured locks from my forehead. Despite having been woken up by someone else every morning, I  still despise anyone seeing me at my most vulnerable - a state of disarray, the sleep not yet fallen from my eyes.
"Morning Faye," Grinning sleepily, I stretched my arms skyward. The plump, grey haired woman waddled out of my room, flashing me a warm smile and shutting the giant oak doors behind her with a subtle thud. Faye, whom I've known my whole life, was the kindest, most pure person I've ever met - a sweet old lady who had not a bad bone in her body. She was of a squat build, short and full of heart. Her slate grey hair was snipped delicately into a bob that somehow maintained stability despite how frazzled she could get, and her creased eyes were an earthy brown. If I could describe Faye in a single word - which I often like to do to people - it would be homely. She was the human equivalent of coming home to a lovely pot of steaming stew and an open fireplace with the people you love.

After freshening myself up, I made my way down the stairs two at a time to the kitchen.
"Morning Pete!" the bald man standing at the frying pan gives a little wave without averting his gaze,
"Morning Kaian! Toad in the hole for this fine Sunday morn sound good?" My head bobs up and down ecstatically, and I shout
"Of course!" with an emphatic tone that is saved specifically for 2 occasions: my favourite breakfast and when my lacrosse team wins an event.  The complementary oak chair squeals objectively as I draw it outwards and take my seat, right side of the table (when front on) and second from the end. I was joined by my Mother and Father shortly after, right on schedule.
"Goodmorning Mother, Father," I nodded deftly and they returned the greeting. Shortly after, Pete made his jolly old way over to the long table, his tray laden with various, delectable dishes. The scent of freshly cooked eggs wafted through me and - no matter how  many times Pete cooks for us (every goddamn day) - I cheesily grin at the smell. "Thanks Pete, you're the best," He winks at me fondly and places a plate of my favourite dish on the table. Despite my all consuming bliss for the food, I can't help but feel the icy gaze of my Father penetrating the side of my head. He's sitting to my left and digging into a bland breakfast of poached eggs on toast, garnished with a piece of rocket that was quickly exiled to the corner of the plate. I look up and precariously throw a quick smile to the side, getting a weary upturn of the mouth in return. I can't argue, running an entire fucking kingdom isn't the easiest thing, but it would be nice to sometimes be treated like a son, rather than a prince.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abruptly, I awoke to the starling sound of police sirens. 'Another criminal getting locked up in my house,' I thought with a mental sigh. The great thing about my house is that it's super high security... but the terrible thing about my house is that it's super fucking high security. Roughly thrice a year (I know that's not often, but it's thrice a year I go without sleep!) There are prisoners locked up in our kingdom's safest, high tech prison - which also happens to be my 'basement'. The facility is beneath the palace and has been, in one form or another, since before I was born. What started out as a bit of barbed wire and some iron doors, has progressed into the nation's #1 security space that houses Vetiti's most notorious criminals. Criminals like Ethora.

Knowing I won't be able to fall back into my slumber, I slip away from the silk sheets and place my feet softly on the floor. The planks of wood creaks in opposition as I make my way to the other side of the expansive room. I take a seat on the plush, teal ottoman and pick up my pencil from where I left off last. Deftly, my right hand darts across the pristine white sheet of paper branded with 'KoV' as I let myself go and follow where my fingers take me. The thin mechanical pencil glides smoothly, lead on paper, creating a masterpiece. No one knows of my secret hobby, and I pray no one will anytime soon: I need a piece of myself saved from the public, no matter how small.

Before I know it, the clock's hands have flown past and it's 6am on the dot. Closing the sketchbook with a proud smile, I yank the tassel protruding from my cream coloured lamp and walk over to open the curtains. The view from my window is magnificent, especially at this point of spring. Crisp green hedges line the pathway and blooming roses in a million shades of pink, red and orange smile towards the rising sun. Perfectly pruned trees sit dotted strategically throughout the front lawn, periodically interrupted with jacaranda trees, their purple flowers more so occupying the ground rather than the branches. These have always been my favourite part of our home, the uncleanupable spray of lilac across the lawn.

Skipping down the stairs two at a time, I detour past the laundry, subsequently Faye, and see her folding clothes.
"Good morning love, you're up early!" she smiles her lovely smile at me and I fondly return the gesture,
"Nope, just didn't sleep," My eyes crinkled and I picked up the full basket of folded clothes, shouldering the door and stumbling down the stairs wearily. After plonking the basket down and sorting the clothes, I snuck into the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine. Despite both Pete and Faye's protests against me drinking caffeine, I have a feeling I'll need it today. Boy was I right.

It was 11am and neither of my parents were awake yet. The last time this happened was when my Father's Father passed away. I'm worried. As though my mind was read, I heard the quick, unmistakable footsteps of the Queen's secretary behind me - I turned, chewing on my bottom lip in worry. The woman, whose name was Lia, bore her brown eyes into mine and I saw the sorrow swimming behind her pupils. Her thick dark lashes fluttered wistfully and I watched a tear slip down her slender nose.
"Lia?" Her thin hand flies up and brushes her cheek, "What's wrong," I say tentatively."Your Mother... the Queen," She shook her head before clearing her throat. Trillions of possibilities raced through my head: 'Pete has been fired? Faye?' "I grimaced at the thought. The lady opposite let out a hefty sigh, "Your mother was murdered last night, Kaian. The sirens last night were the sound of the perpetrator being constrained." A wave. No, not a wave. A fucking ocean. I was under, I was drowning in sorrow, in misery, in pain. A world of pain. The woman said it so matter of factly - just another hole in the ground. Another statistic. My whole body was under water. I can't breathe. I can't see. My brain is drowning, I can't think. I don't know what I'm doing. I felt a weight on my shoulder come as quickly as it went and I assume my feet took me to my bedroom, because that's where I woke up the next morning.

I rolled over to look in the mirror and swiped the locks from my face. I see the tracks left from tears, but they're not tracks. It's a mess of crusties and redness all over my face. 'My mother didn't die.' I tell myself over and over. 'Even if she did, what did she do for me? She wasn't the mother I needed. I won't miss her.' I felt the softness of fabric flush against my face and fell back into a slumber, wishing it could be eternal.