His Little Heir

Quarter Life Crisis

     "You wanted to see me?" Quill loomed in front of Leon's throne.

      He looked as if he had flushed his beloved gold fish down the toilet and discovered too late that his pet was still alive. His eyes drooped from exhaustion, a mellow comparison to the wild redness in Leon's

     The king massaged his face and took note of the sweat that resided there, resolving that a shower to calm his nerves was in order. He stretched, pausing midway to examine Quill's demeanor.

     Nothing new came to his attention. Of course, the art of the body and the language of the soul had always evaded his understanding; Leon knew numbers, not people, and that's why he needed her.

     Daya's energy had enveloped him like warm sunshine. Even with her ivy ridden walls ever so high, the whimsical light she brought to his heart took him off gaurd. Other women over the years had made him feel happy, but never this.. warmth.

     The drug had already entered his system. His father would call it weakness, but he, watching it manifest in a sliver of gold, called it home.

     And Leon's home was his alone.

    "I bet you're wondering why I called you here, Quill." He propped an elbow against the armrest.

    "Oh, was it the lounge area, s-sir- I mean your majesty! I'm uh, I'm sorry.. for my negligence there. I-If it didn't meet your standards-"

     "No, Quill, the lounge area was perfect. You, however, were not."

     He watched as Quill searched himself. Leon couldn't discern what emerged in the servant's features next as recognition, or panic, but his eyes grew wide.

    "I-Is there, is there something wrong?" he chewed his lip, "I'd be glad to... to fix whatever it is tonight! I promise you-"

    Leon jumped to his feet, "Promises won't be necessary; you're fired."

    His jaw dropped as he struggled to catch his breath. He attempted to address his superior, but his nerves intercepted the message, freezing him.

     In a gust of air, Quill produced one word, "Why?"

     "Because, I have assigned you to the greeting committee to 'greet' people who come to visit Fashad, not fraternize with them!"

     "A-Are you talking about Daya?"

     "PRINCESS DAYA!" Leon lunged for Quill, pressing his face to his servant so close that droplets of spit seared his skin, "Do you see why now? Or do you need a lesson in ettiquite, boy?"

    "N-No offense your majesty, but" He took a step back, "I'm no... boy as you say that I am! Daya, I-I mean Princess Daya, asked me to drop her title when referring to her, so I-I did what she asked. I don't see why abiding by her request is, well, a reason to fire me."

     Leon narrowed his eyes. What Quill had told him echoed what the guards enclosed in their report, that Daya had asked him to refer to her as just that. Why, then, did it take him constant prodding to get one titleless remark out of her? Why did she say the name 'Leon' with a cold, desperate, air bustling its enunciation, while the name 'Quill' was honeyed with gratitude and warmth.

     His warmth.

     "Quill, as long as I've known you, do you really think you can lie to me without me knowing?" Leon smirked, "Really, I applaud your efforts, but until you're ready to admit the truth, I'm afraid that you aren't welcome back here."

     "And I don't.. I don't need to be in order to see that you're the one lying to me! Why don't you ask her, see what she says?" Quill about faced and folded his arms.