Of Fire and Gold - A Selection Fanfiction

- P r o l o g u e -

Alpheus Schreave sat at his desk, blonde hair toussled and dissheveled from a stressful day of shadowing his father in meetings. Well, less shadowing than it was taking his place, for the drunken king had failed to show up to two of the three meetings, and the one he did bother to show at, he was drunk, stumbling about and muttering nonsense that his cabinet merely ignored.

The boy was merely thirteen– he was short for his age, only five foot five, and awfully scrawny for a prince who ate nearly his weight in chocolate cake every day. Not quite a princely thing to do, though who was the stop the Heir to the Illéan throne?

The sun had long ago sunk beneath the horizon, all palace life fading away with it. Alphie stayed awake, though, filing papers and signing off on business plans and the like. Though he was small, he held the world on his shoulders, and it often caused them to fall forwards in a hunched demeanor not like that of royalty.

From the door of the grand Prince suite came a voice, one like the song of the birds that would soon flap their wings and be raised into the sky, for surely dawn would break in due time.

"Don't slouch, sweetheart."

Looking up, his curious blue eyes met those quite alike in color and shape, though ones that held something much different than that of the young prince. They held darkness, not bright and shining, as were Alphie's. She was a wicked woman, one full of plans and schemes, though, to the Prince, she was merely a loving mother, one who always knew what was best for him.

"Sorry mother." He replied, offering a short sigh as he leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes rise to the bland white ceiling. He hated looking his mother in the eye.

"Thank you for attending your father's meetings today– we needed a king there." She muttered, crossing the room to take a seat on her son's bed, lavish and rising above the rest of the room on a stage of sorts, as if to present Illéa's prized possession while he slept.

"But mother, I'm no king– I'm just a boy, a prince. I've a long way to go, yet." He mused, his voice low as it flowed from his pursed lips.

She offered a small chuckle, shaking her head. Blonde curls spun around her head, before pouncing back to their position aside her ears. "You're more of a King than your father– more of a King than he'll ever be."

It was at that the boy turned his chair, gaze coming to meet his mother's, an occasion that happened only once in a blue moon.

"Don't say that– father is a noble man. He's a good king." He insisted, voice becoming a bit shaky as he tried to defend his father.

"Darling, please– I mean no harm by saying this. I only speak the truth– he is a drunk, a raging maniac–"

"Say no more!" Alpheus cried, eyes burning a hole through his mother. "He is a good man, and I will hear nothing less."

At that, Ellis Schreave stood, eyes wide as the moon whose light spilled through the open windows around them.

"If you insist, darling."

She moved across the room towards the boy, placing a gentle kiss on his head.

"But one day, you will be the best King this country has ever seen. Now, get some rest– you've yet another long day ahead of you."

With that, she exited the room. Little did she know that her young son would not sleep a lick that night, taking care of his father's responsibilities until the sun broke and the birds began to sing.