Hoist the Colors

One - Koen

    "You know, as fun as it sounds, I don't think throwing a birthday party that will simultaneously be a memorial service is exactly the right message we want to send to the country."

    Their footsteps raced against the marble floors as they left the conference room and headed towards the living quarters. The synchronous click of their heels was the only sound that reached Koen's ears as he tried to keep his increasingly resentful feelings at bay.

    He tried to relax his hands at his sides, as they were subconsciously balled into fists. He tried to settle his breathing, as he realized his face was growing hot and most likely red with anger. Finally, he tried to slow his steps, but try as he might, he just couldn't slow down. He had to get back to his room. Had to find another way, make another plan.

    The guard to his right, struggling to keep up with the young boy's pace, hummed in thought, "and may I ask, your Highness, what message is that sending, exactly?"

    "That we've stopped searching! We've given up!" Koen threw his hands in front of him before slamming them back at his sides again, "I've been leading this search party for five years! Dedicated the last five years worth of any free time I've had to this, and we're just going to stop? And, nonetheless, tell me happy birthday on the same day we announce this news to the rest of the country?" He lowered his voice to slightly above a whisper as he spoke, as he realized how loud he'd been speaking. The passing staff was starting to stare.

    He exhaled with a shake of his head, "No. No, we're not done. I'm not done."

    "With all due respect, Koen, we have already called back the search team. They will receive new orders from your father, and there's not much you can do after that."

The man glanced sideways at the prince as they rounded the corner and slowed to a stop at his bedroom door. Koen did not meet the guard's eyes, furious that he did not offer to help or even agree with what he was saying. Instead, he insisted that this was the right thing to do. That it was completely understandable to go back on anything they've ever done to try and find his brother. All these years of putting his trust in Alden to lead his men and find his brother. Years worth of progress destroyed, and he didn't seem to mind. His childhood guard and most trusted confidant was turning against him.

It's time to let this go, his father had said, and Alden had nodded.

"Fine. I'll do it myself," he realized his fists had been clenched again. A sign of weakness and fear, his father had always told him. He relaxed his shoulders, hands, and jaw, finally setting his gaze into the eyes of the man before him, "and if you're not going to assist me, I suggest you get ready for your men to return and await your next act of duty." His voice was stern and spotted with anger, but rang with clarity as it bounced off the stone walls of the palace.

He pushed open the doors to his bedroom and let them slam shut behind him. The guard had begun to say something before they shut, but he didn't care to listen. It was clear whose side Alden was on now, and it was clear he was now doing this alone.

He let out a groan of frustration. Taking off his coat and throwing it onto the bed, his eyes closed tightly for just a moment, fighting off any emotions storming and crowding his thoughts. Opening them once more, he started across his room toward his desk. Instead of heels clicking against marble, they hastily glided upon emerald green carpet.

Leaning over the mahogany table, he pressed his finger tips on the edge, allowing the cool surface to work through the heat of his anger. He scanned over the papers sprawled across his desk. These were documents of possible sightings of him, new leads, dead ends that he never threw out, just in case, and old suspect interrogations. The stack of papers that presented possible leads had grown in the past few weeks, telling of the recent progress they had made. The progress that would soon mean nothing.