𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐃 | tcf x wmmap

five

In the sun-drenched drawing room of their estate, Cale was deeply engrossed in his latest endeavour: constructing a fortress of colourful wooden blocks.

Felix, ensconced in an armchair with a book precariously balanced on his lap, watched with a barely suppressed grin. Each time Cale placed another block, Felix made a theatrical show of it.

“Ah, such precision!” Felix declared with an exaggerated flourish. “A veritable prodigy at work!”

Cale resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Felix was just playing along, but the theatrics were a bit much. It was clear that Felix was enjoying himself a bit too much.

“Oh no, it’s wobbling!” Felix gasped with mock terror, clutching his chest as if he were witnessing an impending catastrophe. “Steady yourself, valiant architect!”

Just as the tower wobbled precariously, Cale’s small hands, with an almost comically intense focus, steadied it. Felix erupted into applause, his clapping a cacophony of overly enthusiastic approval.

“Bravo!” Felix cheered. “A triumph of engineering!”

Cale spared Felix a sidelong glance, his lips pressing into a thin line. The display was wearisome, but he refused to let it distract him. He simply turned his attention back to his construction, ignoring Felix’s antics.

Felix's playful demeanour shifted as he glanced toward the door with a thoughtful expression. “Ah, reality’s about to make its grand entrance.”

Cale looked up, curiosity piqued by Felix’s sudden shift in tone. Felix’s change in mood suggested something noteworthy was imminent, but Cale remained silent, waiting for the explanation.

Leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin, Felix whispered, “Brace yourself, Cale. The Prince is about to make his grand entrance.”

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"Cale, this is His Royal Highness, Claude de Alger Obelia. You might be seeing him quite often."

Claude’s gaze fell on Cale with the sort of expression one might reserve for a scuffed shoe on a polished floor. His pristine blue-and-gold attire seemed almost to shimmer with disdain.

'Ah, another prince decked out in the standard royal colours. Is there a strict dress code, or do they all just prefer the same bland palette?' Cale mused silently, rolling his eyes inwardly.

"So, this is the infant you’ve been prattling on about, Felix?" Claude’s voice dripped with a scornful edge.

'Perfect, a royal with a superiority complex. Just what I needed.' Cale thought, attempting to bat at Claude’s towering figure with all the energy his tiny limbs could muster. Felix found the gesture more adorable than confrontational, but Cale was clearly giving it his all.

"Watch your mouth." Felix said sharply, his eyes narrowing at Claude.

'Felix, thanks for the backup, but let’s not escalate this into an international incident just yet.'

Claude raised an eyebrow, adopting his signature “I’m too good for this” smirk.

"Felix, are you implying I need to temper my words? Such audacity could very well cost you your head."

Felix arched an eyebrow in return. "Oh, Claude, spare me the melodrama. We both know you’re too fond of me to act on such threats."

Claude’s face contorted into a look of sheer disgust. If there were an award for the most insufferable royal, he’d be the front-runner.

“Felix, your manner is shockingly crude." Claude said, wrinkling his nose like he was enduring an olfactory assault.

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, Claude. It’s refreshing to take a break from your ‘I’m superior and your issues are beneath me’ routine."

Claude's eyes narrowed dangerously, his regal features hardening into a mask of haughty disdain. "I assure you, my concerns are of far greater importance than your petty grievances."

"Right, because the universe clearly revolves around you." Felix shot back.

Claude’s face reddened, his irritation bubbling dangerously close to an explosive outburst. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Cale let out a triumphant squeal and clapped his tiny hands together—don’t die on me yet, Felix—seemingly in agreement with Felix’s sentiments.

"See, Claude? Even Cale gets it. You’re full of hot air." Felix said with a grin, lifting the baby in his arms as if to emphasize his point.

Claude's face hardened into a look of pure disdain. "Felix, remove yourself and this infant from my sight. Your insolence has reached its limit."

"But Claude, this is my house..."

Claude’s eyes flared with anger. "I don’t care, Felix. Get out. Now."

Felix sighed deeply, but he knew better than to push further. "Alright, Claude. We’ll go. But don’t think this is the end."

Claude smirked, savouring his apparent victory. "Good. Now leave."

Felix turned, cradling Cale as they made their exit.

“Well, at least someone around here has a sense of humour.” Felix murmured to Cale as they left the room.

Cale sighed inwardly.

He couldn't wait to grow up.

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