"Some time later, the general of the army
the brothers were a part of
was mysteriously assassinated."
・ ・ ・
The kerosene lamps lining the walls of the dungeons glowed dimly in the dark.
Footsteps echoed through the hollow, chilly air, heels clacking on the ground sharply. Slayen raised his head the slightest bit from where he sat huddled, his arms around his knees, at the shadowiest corner of his cell.
Crimson glinted as the faint dungeon light filtered through the cell bars, casting shadows over his face.
There was a creaking sound, armour clanking, and then a voice drifted over from the distance. "Your Highness, what are you—?" There was the sound of rustling paper, and the voice was abruptly cut off.
"I expect you to keep your mouth shut." A new voice. Slayen had heard it before, though. He just couldn't remember where.
There was a soft, responding murmur. The clatter of metal, and tinkling.
The footsteps continued, growing ever louder.
Slayen frowned, shifting, and eyed the cell bars. A figure came into view, dressed in night robes made of the finest silks and fabric. His frown grew deeper.
What was a royal, of all people, doing outside of his cell?
His face was shadowed in the dim light, brilliant green eyes staring hauntingly down at him. Imperious. Dignified.
King.
No, no. Slayen chewed on his bottom lip, unnerved by the sudden appearance of the royal. This is not the king.
The king had blue eyes. Blue the colour of marine, the colour of the morning skies and the colour of the seas under the light of the moon.
The royal before him had green eyes. Bright lime, the colour of the forest.
Slayen finally remembered. A certain prince, back when the king was giving him his sentence, had the exact same eyes. A certain prince who had shown obvious interest in him.
A certain prince who had tried to defend him, even though he was a stranger.
"Xenor," he uttered, narrowing his eyes at his visitor. How lucky he was, to be visited by the prince infamously known for his sharp tongue and overwhelmingly harsh critiques.
"Prince Xenor," the royal before him corrected, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. "And I expect you to call me that from now on. Even a simple 'sir' is acceptable." A gesture, a finger pointed at him. "I'm surprised you know who I am."
A condescending smirk.
Slayen gritted his teeth. "I have no fucking obligations to listen to you." He glared at the prince. "Leave me the hell alone."
"Charming." Xenor glanced down at his fingernails, running his thumb over them. "While I do appreciate your irreverent behaviour, I have no time to humour your garrulous chatter."
"The fuck does that even mean?" Slayen scrutinised the green-eyed prince, befuddled.
"You are an Eltros, are you not?" Xenor's green orbs stabbed into Slayen's soul, as though trying to pry into his darkest thoughts. His secrets. "Murderers of innocents. Killers of authority. The heinous, opprobrious Eltros of old."
YOU ARE READING
Stormbringer: King
Adventure"Family is an eternal treasure--" Xenor Avalon was the firstborn of the king of Argon. Storm Avalon was the second. They were brothers--constantly bickering and fighting, yet they still loved each other. They shared a special bond together, a bond...
