Drakon

fatherly love

[⚔k i a d r a k e⚔]

As I followed Alistair to the castle gates, my mind was abuzz with questions. Dragons were real? I had always believed that they were a myth, purely to keep citizens from being too nosy about the world out there, as Ashton called it. However, the question that bothered me the most was- how did he find me? Sure, I had a reputation among thieves, but not royalty. Narrowing my eyes, I followed him through the doors. Right after the crown prince opened the doors, we were stopped by guards. He growled under his breath. "I'm going to kill Cecil." However, the guards missed Alistair completely, going straight for innocent old me. I, on the other hand, was going to kill Alistair.

I ducked to the side, narrowly missing the guards' outstretched hands. "What the hell?" Grabbing Alistair by the shoulders, I strategically placed him in between the guards and I, effectively making sure that they couldn't get to me without hitting him first. "I thought you said the castle was safe." I hissed sarcastically.

He shrugged. "I did not expect the guards." He whirled around to face me, a frown on his lips. "Even though I'm the prince, I don't know everything that goes on in the palace." I glared at him, and he glared right back.

One of the guards jabbed me in the back with his spear. "Watch your words, mutt," he snapped, "he is your prince."

I clenched my fists, eyes narrowed. "Watch who you're speaking to." I snapped. "I'm here by invitation from your beloved prince." The guard turned puce, muttering something about insolent wenches. I smiled sweetly at the rest of them. "Anybody else have a word to say?"

Alistair nudged me in the ribs. Somehow, he had moved to standing next to me. "I don't like them that much myself, but do try and stay polite." He snorted. "I have to cope with them every day. Feel sorry for me." He frowned childishly, and I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh.

I felt a presence looming behind Alistair and I, a tall shadow covering mine.  I froze.  "Who's behind us?" I hissed out of the side of my mouth.

Alistair winced before replying.  "My father.  Help me, I'm so dead." He turned around slowly, and I followed suit.  He bobbed his head in greeting.  "Father."

"What do I do? Do I bow, or do I curtsey or what?" I tried to remain calm, but my mind was panicking.

"Curtsey."

"I'm wearing pants, your Highness Prince Idiot."

Alistair glanced at my attire before nodding understandingly.  "Oh yeah.  I forgot about that." Stupid.

There was a chuckle from Alistair's old man, the king.  "Relax, Miss.  You are fine- my son, however, is not." I breathed a sigh of relief as I was spared from the old king's wrath.  He turned to his son.  "Who is she? Why did you bring her to the palace?" I'm right here, you know.

The king frowned, peering at his son curiously.  Alistair blushed furiously, bright red spreading across his cheeks.  "You look a bit like a tomato." I couldn't help blurting out.  "A crimson tomato prince, ruling over his kingdom with a squishy iron fist."

King Felix chuckled, a booming laugh that echoed across the hallways.  "I've never heard anyone compare my son to a tomato." He clapped his hands as Alistair grunted in annoyance.  He pointed at the guard who had insulted me, then looked at Alistair helplessly.  "I forgot what his name is."

"Parsnip." Alistair smiled coolly.  Obviously, both of them had a thing against each other.  "His name is Parsnip, or possibly Turnip."

The old king nodded.  "Parsnip! Or Turnip! Go find Poppy, and tell her to bring our visitor here to her room."

Parsnip held in a scowl.  "My name is Torship, your Majesty." He muttered under his breath.  Alistair raised a delicate eyebrow, and Parsnip- sorry, Torship gritted his teeth.  He left, stomping away.

Alistair turned to his father, peony lips still turned up in a smirk.  "On second thought, I think I should bring her myself.  We still have things to discuss."

The king nodded absentmindedly.  "Yes, of course." He turned to me, a curious gleam in his mahogany eyes.  Alistair must've gotten his eyes from his mother.  "What did you say your name was?"

I stopped, turning around.  "I didn't tell you what my name was." Alistair pulled on my hand, and I followed him to the East Wing of the castle. 

His gaze lingered on a painting, one of three children.  One was a boy, with dark brown hair and emerald green eyes, a serious expression on his face.  He couldn't have been older than ten. "That was me when I was a child.  I was nine when this was painted." His expression turned sour.  He pointed at the older boy, with dusty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes.  He looked older than nine-year old Alistair, but had a mischievous glint in his eyes.  "That's my older brother, Colt.  He ran away when I was twelve.  At the time, he was only seventeen." His fingers brushed over the only girl in the painting.  He swallowed, looking troubled.  "Since Colt ran away, that makes me crown prince." I had a feeling he didn't like being crown prince or his brother, so I changed the topic.

I frowned, glancing at the girl.  "Who's the girl?" She was probably less than five summers.  She, like Prince Colt had messy dirt brown hair, but she had bright emerald eyes like the brunette Alistair.  "She has your eyes."

"That's my little sister.  We share our mother's eyes." I froze.  I never knew there was a princess in the royal family.  But again, I knew little about them.  In the alleys, everybody kept to themselves; a single word spilled could mean the difference between life or death.  "Colt takes after father, and I've been told I look more like mother.  Berniss takes after both mother and father." He swallowed, standing stiffly.  He let go of my wrist, and I noticed that he had been holding on tightly as the spot went red.  "Come on, let's go." I nodded, obediently following him.  He opened a door to my left.  "Here's your room." I stepped in, mumbling my thanks.  He turned around as the door slammed shut behind him.  I heard his footsteps fade, the sound of boots clopping away.

"Excuse me, miss, I was told to help you prepare your bath.  It's getting cold, miss." I whirled around, dagger out.  I thought I was the only one inside! She cowered against the wall, her hands in front of her face.  "I'm so sorry for scaring you, miss, please don't hit me..." I frowned, forehead creasing.  Why on earth would I hit her?

Slipping the knife back in the folds of my cloak, I step closer to her, crouching down to her level.  Assuming she was Poppy, the maid Turnip sent, I spoke to her softly, lowering my voice.  "Poppy," I whispered, "I'm not going to hurt you.  Nobody's going to hurt you."

Her lip quivered.  "But... Sir Torship said you were an evil witch who liked to hit people..."

I laughed.  "If I was an evil witch who hit people, I would've kicked him down on his arse first." Poppy giggled, relaxing.  I winked at her.  "Turnip's an idiot."

She laughed, standing up.  "Come on, miss, you need to bathe.  The bath is getting cold."

As I slipped into the blissfully warm bathtub, I couldn't help but think- what happened to Princess Berniss?

image: gary oldman as king felix selwyn